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lovieku · 5 months ago

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TRUE LOVE ⋆ 정국

when you and jeon jeongguk's paths cross again, you question if having a crush on the school's emo and alternative boy was really just a phase, or if it was true love after all.

⋆⁺₊❅. 5/6 from christmas & chill

pairing tattoo artist!jk x fem reader

genre fluff, smut, grumpy & sunshine, somewhat f2l

warnings jk 24 | oc 24, jk thinks he’s too cool for love, oc suffers from a chronic case of “i can fix him”, she eventually does, oc simps HARDDD and jk only pretends to be unaffected, yea he’s a bit of a dick sometimes but he’s also Very funny, brief description of panic attacks, male masturbation, kissing, idk what else to add i just rly rly love them and will think of them for the entirety of xmas season

word count 10.2k

author’s note hi lovies 🩷 it’s my last time with c&c 🙁 i’m kinda emotional omg… it’s been such a fun, warm and lovely week, and i love each one of you for showing endless support to this project <33 i’ll keep trying to not disappoint… please tell me if you like this!!! thank u always and always 🩷 luv u <3

banner by the gorgeous @awrkive ⊹₊⟡⋆

On the first day of December, your path crosses with thee Jeon Jeongguk’s after enough years for your brain to trip slightly before recognising him. But it would have been impossible not to—there’s likely a whole, well-preserved section of your thinking organ dedicated to that mortifying phase of high school, when your hormones turned life into an endless internal tug-of-war.

The moment your eyes widen at having him stand in front of you, you’re yanked unceremoniously into the past, brought back to buried, locked and left to gather dust feelings that have your teenage self’s screams echoing within you in a chorus of delight and cringe.

Jeongguk, on the other hand, is simply following his duties as a tattoo artist. When he catches sight of you next to his appointed client on such a breezy day, the cold December air starting to find its space even in the confines of his studio, he only nods his chin upward at you in slow recognition.

It’s awkward, at first. Only because you make it.

You’d volunteered to accompany Eunbi, your best friend, to get her first tattoo as an early Christmas self-gift. Your mission was clear: support her, hold her hand if the pain became unbearable (though you’re probably the least dependable person when it comes to making clarity in situations of panic, as seen right now), and be the first to bask in her excitement as she finally sees what she’s always pictured to be inked on the skin of her forearm. A blue whale tattoo, large enough to make you wince just thinking about the needlework.

You’d never go through something like that. Never.

And that’s exactly what’s showing on your face when you’re met with Jeongguk’s full sleeve of tattoos, leaving you rooted to the spot.

You’d always known him to be the different kid, the quiet one with forced sharp eyes that canonically listened to alternative rock and glared at anyone who dared approach, whether to tease him or befriend him. He’d convinced himself that no one could ever understand him.

See, you’d instead fooled yourself into thinking you were the exception. That you did understand him.

Fourteen-year-old you had gone through some weird phases, and the one that resurfaces now at the vision of his adult self is the one centered entirely around him. You unashamedly had the biggest crush on Jeongguk. To you, he was mysterious and edgy—in an effortlessly cool way.

You’d tried everything. Offered him your lunch more times than you were left with any for yourself. Even cut your bangs to have them fall over your eyes to mimic his fringe, dyed a strand in blue, overhauled your wardrobe to align with his back-and-grey one. None of it worked. He never noticed.

But, thinking of it now, there’s no way he didn't. He definitely did. How could any boy turn a blind eye to a lovesick girl’s heartfelt Valentine’s letter, a hopeless romantic girl who almost cried on the spot when she got rejected? Jeongguk just chose to willingly ignore it.

These are all valid reasons as to why your functions seem to slow down in his unexpected presence. And you’re not going to deny nor fake that his calm, almost detached demeanor doesn’t flow through your body and right to your left eye, making it twitch with a slight tremor.

Yet, you must also admit that your teenage self was onto something. Jeongguk has changed drastically but he’s also stayed the same. You think fourteen-year-old him would be proud of where he is right now. Two piercings on his lower lip and one on his eyebrow, intricate ink tracing up his muscled arm, his… muscled arms. Wow. And then, his studio. His own studio, a place for him and his passion, one that he made into his job. That’s undeniably cool.

Maybe just not cool enough for you to be gaping like an idiot as he moves with purpose, adjusting your friend’s arm to position the stencil he had prepared, perfectly fitting in the space she had chosen. His muscles flex with every shift, and it’s impossible for you to go past that with the way the black beater he’s wearing is loose on his torso, but still clinging on his chest.

Eunbi notices, of course. You don’t have time to feel embarrassed and in return she doesn’t even try to hide her amusement when your usual chatter dries up entirely, only gulping obnoxiously noisily and alternating that with nervous silences. Jeongguk, too, catches on.

He’d always known you as obnoxious and noisy. In, huh, a good way. Or whatever.

Jeongguk just agrees that you were (and probably still are, if the pastel yellow skirt softly flowing down your legs paired with a cozy cream sweater and the full toothed grin you shoot at your friend are any indicators) the pinpoint embodiment of his opposite. You’ve always been talkative, smiley, and friendly, eager to help and to receive help, not in the slightest ever turning down the opportunity to blabber on, and on, and on.

Honestly, Jeongguk doesn’t think he ever truly listened to a single word of your rambling back in the day, especially during those times when you’d bounce up to him and launch into enthusiastic rants about obscure alternative bands he himself hadn’t even heard of. He respected the hustle, though. He’d always wondered where you found the time and energy to immerse yourself in music like that.

He much preferred when you were less trying so hard to be him and mirror his tastes, more when you gave up on impressing him and simply stayed true to yourself, the girl whose heart belonged to Justin Bieber and One Direction. Truthfully, he fucked with them. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course. His quiet, brooding image wouldn’t survive that revelation.

What he respected the most was your resilience. After all the times he rejected you and your awkward blurts of confessions, you still didn’t think it was enough of a reason for your villain origin story to take off, and instead remained the same frustratingly positive ray of sunshine you’d always been.

Now, as Jeongguk works on the tattoo in front of him, the very design that caused all these long-buried memories to rise back, his dark eyes flick toward you sitting on a stool in a near corner every now and then, a hint of confusion in his expression each time you take more than five seconds to reply to his small talk.

It’s just, you’re a bit taken aback. Since when does he do small talk? The foreign smoothness with which Jeongguk handles interactions is so far removed from the sullen boy you used to know. You’re not prepared for this version of him. It’s disarming, to say the least.

Enough time has passed for you to settle into the odd scenario, your current best friend and your long-standing high school crush in the same room. Slowly but surely, your curiosity sparkles again, and the signature tendency to let thoughts tumble out of your mouth unchecked returns to you naturally.

“Ouch, that looks painful.”

Jeongguk snorts, eyes trained on Eunbi’s arm as he glides the tattoo needle with precise strokes that have his brows pinching and the tip of his tongue peeking out from the corner of his lips, a habit you remember from the past but one you’ve never found quite so distracting before.

Still, he multitasks and responds without missing a beat, “Wanna try?”

Wow. This is, like, the longest conversation you’ve ever had with him. It spurs you on to do anything it takes to hear more of his voice, the sound of it definitely deeper than the shy tones you struggled to coax out of him ten years ago.

That is probably why you literally lie, “Hm. Maybe. I was thinking of getting one actually. In the future.”

Eunbi chokes on her spit, her chest coughing with the sudden, blatantly fake revelation, and Jeongguk promptly pauses, lifting the needle from her skin as his tattooist reflexes kick in. While your friend apologizes between a clearing of her throat and sinks back into the chair, she doesn’t keep from glaring at you, her expression screaming What the hell are you doing?

You deadpan. You’ll explain everything later and it’ll all make sense. And you know this will inevitably end up being added to the list of the many embarrassing facts she knows about you and threatens you with when she wants to go clubbing and you don’t.

Jeongguk uses the brief interruption to glance up at where you’re perched in the corner of his peripheral vision, just to square you up and down with a skeptical arch of his brow, “Really?”

You scoff, smoothing out the creases on your skirt as if the fabric is somehow responsible for the lie you just told, “Is that shocking?”

He hums, returning to his work with the buzz of the needle filling the studio again, his voice padded the more he gets closer to Eunbi’s forearm, “I just find it hard to believe such a princess like you could handle any pain.”

You gulp.

What you’re getting from this conversation is that Jeongguk has always had an idea of who you are in his mind all along. That he’s always perceived you in some way. As much as your inner fourteen-year-old is swooning at the attention, gobbling up each of the tiny crumbles he’s giving you, it doesn’t sit right with you. What exactly does he think of you?

“Test me.”

He shrugs, eyes fixated on the shade he’s perfectioning with black ink, “Busy now.”

“I’ll go pay for mine. I saw you have one last free spot today,” you announce, the words tumbling out with more confidence than you feel. You’re already on your feet before the sentence is fully formed, betraying the fact that your nosy tendencies had gotten the better of you earlier. You’d discreetly glanced at his appointment book when Jeongguk and Eunbi were finalizing her tattoo details and negotiating the final price at the desk.

He hums, head tilting slightly, “And I wanted to spend it bumming around.”

“Too bad. You’ll have to postpone that.”

You walked into this studio swearing you’d never let a needle even brush you.

Now you’re stretched out on a leather bench, Jeongguk leaning over you with a stencil in hand, gloved fingers moving with careful precision.

The design you’d chosen came from his portfolio—a delicate illustration of two butterflies in motion, their soft threads intertwining. You’d flipped through countless pages of bold skulls and intricate linework before settling on this.

The spot you’d chosen for the tattoo was the flat, firm plane between your breasts. It wasn’t a conscious decision, just a place you’d always liked. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that nature hadn’t exactly blessed you in the cleavage department. Subconsciously, perhaps, you thought that adding something there might give the illusion of more.

“Tehe,” you can’t stop the breathy giggle that escapes as the cool paper brushes against your skin. Your hand is pressed to your bra, holding it in place as best you can, though the situation feels so surreal it’s hard to focus on anything but the ridiculousness of it all.

Jeongguk glances up at you with a glare that’s more exasperated than angry before returning to the delicate task at hand, “What’s funny?”

Your voice wobbles, “I just— I tend to laugh during serious moments.”

“Oh. Weird.”

“Sorry.”

With a small sigh, he smooths the stencil, and once it’s transferred he hands you a square mirror, waiting for your approval. You nod, the butterflies now perfectly poised in their eternal dance, and Jeongguk doesn’t waste a moment.

The buzz of the needle fills the room as he leans closer, one gloved hand resting on the upper part of your chest to steady himself. He’s mere seconds from beginning the inking process when another laugh bubbles out of you.

Jeongguk sits back abruptly, dropping his pen onto the metal tray with an audible clink. Tilting his head, he levels you with a look of thinly veiled irritation. “I really can’t work if your chest keeps moving.”

“Sorry,” you blurt again, turning your head to face the wall. You clamp your lips together tightly, mentally scrolling through every sad memory you can conjure. Think of something awful. Your childhood dog dying. Okay, maybe not that sad—

“You haven’t changed a bit since high school. Always smiling like you live surrounded by flowers and rainbows,” Jeongguk’s mutter vibrates against your chest, warm breath fanning over the cold skin, distracting you from your no-giggling mission.

The unexpected observation has your brows furrowing in a mildly offended frown, and banter is ready on your tongue. “You’re just the same too, Gguk. The emo boy who thinks he’s too cool for a smile.”

“I’m not an emo boy. The fuck,” he scoffs, kissing his teeth and murmuring more of his indignation under his breath.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. I can teach you.”

The whirring needle glides across your skin with a slightly firmer touch, making you hiss softly under your breath. He seems unbothered by the reaction, and instead bothered by your words, “Teach me what.”

“How to smile a bit more,” you reply, your voice laced with mockery as you keep your gaze firmly fixed on the wall. The smirk playing on your lips is triumphant; he walked right into your little jab, hehe.

Your mind is already racing, piecing together the beginning of a sarcastic rant about how his perpetual scowl probably contributed to his mysterious high school persona. For the sake of his ego, you won’t add how it worked in his favor, how more than one girl (your own self) found his untouchable vibe completely irresistible.

Even though, thinking back, he looked ridiculous. His big, round, slightly scared-of-the-world eyes truly didn’t belong with the heavy black eyeliner.

But before you can get a single word out, Jeongguk straightens his posture, pulling away from your chest. With a practiced motion, he tosses one of his gloves onto the counter behind him, his expression cool and indifferent. “It’s done.”

“Done?!” you exclaim, tilting your chin down to look at your chest. You go slightly cross-eyed trying to catch a glimpse of the design now inked onto your skin. Forever.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t even feel it.”

Jeongguk seems equally done with small talk, transitioning into a professional explanation of the tattoo’s aftercare step. His tone is calm but clipped, and you can’t tell if it’s his usual demeanor or just reserved for you. He also hands you a small tube of cream of which you’re not sure the use of, too enthralled by the vision of his colored sleeve this up close.

And still laying on the leather bed, you almost reach to trace one of the many lines with your finger before he interrupts, “You can pay with Yoongi at the entrance.”

Clearing your throat, you sit up, brushing imaginary dust off your skirt as Jeongguk turns his back to you, his focus already back on cleaning his tools. You still are not over, “Thank you, Jeongguk. Can I— huh. Can I get your number?”

He pauses mid-motion, just long enough for the silence to stretch thin and taut. Turning around to study your features, he stares you up and down with knitted brows and a hostile kind of confusion painting his expression. “… For what exactly?”

“In case anything happens with the tattoo.”

Jeongguk stills for a second, eyes narrowing slightly, then turns back to what’s keeping him so occupied with a noncommittal grunt, “Huh. Sure. Yoongi has my business cards at the desk. You can ask him. Have a good day.”

With Eunbi practically dragging you out of the room, you don’t have the chance to say anything more, though your chest burns with indignation. It’s not that you expect him to fall over himself at the chance to catch up, but the sheer indifference is maddening.

Should you pretend you don’t care either? You could. But really, who are you fooling? You still have those old diaries buried somewhere in your closet, their pages crammed with his name written in looping, lovesick cursive. That little girl in you never truly died.

On the fourth day of December, you finally text him. It’s about your tattoo, of course. There’s not much else to say to him, but when his only reply to your picture of the healing process is a yellow thumbs up, you find your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Words start forming before you’ve fully processed them, and before you know it, you hit send.

You [3:39 p.m]: btw u still friends with kim tae?

jeongguk [3:42 p.m.]: Yes

jeongguk [3:42 p.m.]: He’s my best friend

You [3:43 p.m.]: ohhh, cool

jeongguk [3:45 p.m.]: You want his number?

You [3:46 p.m.]: no… i’m good with yours ☺️

You can’t help but giggle at how his typing bubbles appear and then fade for a whole minute, biting your lower lip with a sheepish grin, savoring the silent victory. You’re doing this for your fourteen-year-old self, who would’ve squealed at the thought of making Jeon Jeongguk flustered. But you’re a different girl now. You’ve changed. No man could ever reject—

jeongguk [3:48 p.m.]: If there’s nothing else about the tattoo then 👋

“Hmph,” your frown is so pronounced that you feel your chin aching and your wrinkles prematurely deepening. Well, this is not the first time you come face first with his sour antics. Only now, you’re prepared.

You [3:48 p.m.]: yall hanging out soon? let me join

jeongguk [3:49 p.m.]: Why lol

jeongguk [3:49 p.m.]: He barely even remembers you probs

You [3:50 p.m.]: who would not remember me

jeongguk [3:50 p.m.]: The only thing i’m now remembering about you is how I couldn’t stand your ass

You gasp, hand coming up to brush against your parted lips. With a huff, you hastily click at your keyboard, “Mean. Sent. Ugh.”

On the sixth day of December, your persistence pays off, and you find yourself at a random bar you’d never been to before, seated with both Jeongguk and Taehyung.

Between Jeongguk’s cigarette breaks—forcing the three of you to brave the cold outside—and brief moments in corners of the cramped place where the music feels muffled against the walls, you manage to catch up with Taehyung. The rest of the time though, the noise inside is so deafening that it makes any kind of meaningful conversation impossible.

Even more when a random girl slides into the booth next to him, capturing his attention entirely, leaving you and Jeongguk in paradoxical silence.

The tattoo artist has been glued to his phone with his head down for the last 20 minutes, and now you alternate between observing his side profile, roughened by the piercings and a more defined jawline, and analysing the weird dynamic that is beginning to form between Taehyung and the girl, sitting in front of you.

Alone with your thoughts and, well, the pulsating music, you feel yourself getting unreasonably closer to symptoms you know all too well, that threaten to have you spiraling. You shake your head, forcing it to stop. There’s no reason for anxiety to visit you at such an inconvenient time.

But of course, the little voice in your head starts listing all the totally valid motives why this is indeed the perfect time for it to visit you.

The bar feels suffocating on your skin.

Your dress clings too tightly.

The couple facing you is shamelessly close to making out.

Jeongguk sighs in visible boredom.

You shouldn’t have come. Hell, you shouldn't have suggested it in the first place. A smarter version of yourself would have brought Eunbi for balance, for comfort. But in your foolishness, you thought this could be an opportunity for you and Jeongguk to catch up. Instead, you feel foreign to him, foreign to this pub booth, and the air begins to feel foreign to your lungs. You’ve never liked bars, clubs, or places with loud music.

You sniffle, looking down at your lap. Then up at the ceiling. Then around the room. It keeps spinning and booming with volume that only adds to the feeling of helplessness. Quick, quick, quick.

What are five things that you can see?

Five. Your gaze falls on Taehyung and the girl, their lips and tongues clumsily entangled as they laugh between sloppy kisses. No help there. The air catches harder in your throat.

Four. Your empty glass, its smudged rim a reminder of the single drink you had, now sitting uncomfortably in your stomach.

Three. Your scuffed heels, their tips worn to the nub despite your best efforts to hide it with a marker.

Two. The swirling lights above the bar, dizzying as they flash brighter and brighter.

One. Jeongguk’s tattooed hand on your thigh.

His fingers dig into the skin, shaking you alarmedly, with a force you’ve never known from him, not even when it came to stopping your shaking stomach as you were laying on the studio’s leather bed.

Head snapping up to face him, you’re met with a perfect resemblance of how you must look right now. Wide eyes, knitted brows, nose flaring and exhaling, and you try to follow the movements of his mouth, but they jumble together annoyingly in your brain. You lean closer, narrowed orbs still fixated on his lips to try and read them. Are… you… ok—

“___, you’re scaring me. Hey, hello? Are you okay?”

Jeongguk moves from your thigh to your shoulders, jolting you gently but firmly from the fog that is threatening to cloud up your brain. The sudden clarity hits you, but you still stumble forward, your weight toppling over his chest. With it, your head dips rapidly, hurtling toward the sharp edge of the table, and before Jeongguk knows it his instinct snaps and he catches you promptly.

The next steps blur together. You vaguely register the boy next to you standing up and pulling you along with him, his broad shoulders supporting one of your arms while his inked one secures around the small of your waist, holding you firmly against him.

Then, it’s nothing but brief flashes. Jeongguk pressing a water bottle to your lips. Sitting you down on the stairs outside the pub. Holding your hair back as you double over, emptying the contents of your stomach onto the pavement. Cracking a smile to make you laugh, showing off his tattoos in exaggerated detail like it’s the grandest tour of your life. Opening the door to his car and gently easing you into the passenger seat, ensuring the seatbelt clicks into place.

Inside his car, you slowly feel your senses come back to you.

At a redlight that you recognise as the one near your apartment complex, you muster a small and hoarse thank you. Jeongguk only hums low, eyes fixated on the road and fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel.

Before a sheepish smile can make its way on your lips and spread across your face, your head twitches back as your brows furrow. Your thoughts suddenly catch up with you, “Hey, how do you know the way to my flat?”

His gaze briefly flicks toward you in annoyance, then back to the road. “You literally just told me.”

“Oh.” A beat passes before you giggle softly. “Don’t remember.”

Jeongguk mutters something intelligible under his breath, and next thing you know he’s turning down your street and slowing in front of the building that matches the number you gave him. Given your current state, he begins to question if that is even the right one.

“This one!” You point at the tall front gate with an almost childlike excitement, back shifting slightly from the seat as your grin stretches wide. Jeongguk grimaces. Why the fuck do you look like you’ve been reuinted with your home after years apart, as if you weren’t there just a couple hours ago?

“Right. Huh, you good with going back on your own?”

“Yes. I’d hate to bother you further. I’m sorry for this, I… was getting better, I guess.”

The sad confession doesn’t land with the weight it should, softened by the smile painted on your lips and the chuckle you let out as if it were nothing. Jeongguk’s eyelid twitches, unsettled by the unnecessary happiness that always seems to drip from you, even when it doesn’t belong.

“‘S okay. Have a good night,” he awkwardly bows his head, waiting for you to exit the car. When you stay still, he clears his throat, adding just to fill the silence, and perhaps because he means it, “Huh, and make sure to rest a lot.”

You take a moment, maybe longer than you should, to study his features up this close. You particularly fixate on the way his eyes dart everywhere but never land on yours. Then, with your signature toothy grin, you bow back and open the car door, leaving with a string of thank yous, and get home safe, and I’ll text you, and please, reply to me, and bye.

Jeongguk has to fight a smile of his own.

On the tenth day of December, you realise you want him. Even more badly than your fourteen-year-old self ever did. Which is frankly insane.

You don’t know if it was the natural way he looked after you during your episode, or his dry sarcasm as he actually started replying to your random updates throughout the day.

But no, it was definitely the selfie he sent you after what he said was a long day. Messy hair, tired eyes, a hint of a smile. You’d struggled to even gulp down your saliva when the picture popped up in your chat, and maniacally stared at it with eyes glued to the bright screen before sending one of your own. He had replied with Cute. followed by Your hair pin is cute.

That is why you find yourself facing… Yoongi? If you remember correctly. The guy at the front desk of Jeongguk’s studio.

You beam at him, and what you’re met with instead is a confused stare. You inhale, “Hi. Is Jeongguk in?”

Yoongi scratches his head, muttering, “He’s busy with a client.”

“Oh. It’s okay,” you wave off his concern. “Can I wait here?”

The boy hesitates, looks unsure the more your interaction develops, and he glances between you and the empty waiting area. He relents with furrowed brows, “Sure… Huh, It’s a back tattoo, so it’ll take him a while.”

You shrug and plop yourself onto the leather sofa, seemingly unfazed, “I like waiting.”

Crossing your legs, you take in the studio’s atmosphere, eyes drifting to the dark walls lined with framed artwork and certificates. You spot Jeongguk’s name on many of those.

For the next fifteen minutes, you try distracting yourself by flipping through the stack of tattoo magazines on the coffee table. You wince at inked heads, faces, butts, and even… more private parts. Deciding this world is definitely not for you, you slam the book shut.

By the time an hour passes, you’re fighting a battle with your lack of sleep. The third yawn you manage to stifle, but the fourth escapes before you can stop it. Yoongi, seated at the desk, doesn’t bother hiding his unimpressed stare. Still, he’s polite enough to offer you a glass of water, a coffee, or even a chance to join him for a cigarette break.

You decline all of it, though your throat does feel dry.

Maybe you should have planned this with a bit of rationality. Or at least gotten more sleep. Now, your every blink is slower, eyelids batting to shut and taking longer to flutter open again. Hm, this feels nice. You’ll just let them rest for a bit longer. And longer. And a bit more.

The next time you open your eyes, Jeongguk’s face is inches away, his warm hand resting firmly on your arm. You jolt upright with a startled yelp.

“Jeongguk.”

He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in an unmistakably mocking smirk. “Hey. You don’t have a bed?”

You sit up, forcing Jeongguk to step back and straighten to his full height. Your neck cranes upward to glare at him, brows furrowed in what you hope is an intimidating glare, though you sport a pout that is all but menacing, “Shut up.”

He clicks his tongue, turning back to round the desk and fiddle with the appointment book, clearly unbothered. You take the moment to rub your eyes—only to remember, too late, that you’d worn makeup. A quick glance around reveals how much has changed since you last let your eyelids flutter open. The lights in the studio are dim, the hallway is dark, and every door is shut. Yoongi is nowhere in sight. It’s just the two of you in the deathly quiet space.

You gasp, pressing a hand to your parted lips, “Did I fall asleep? I'm so sorry. I was probably really tired from yesterday.”

Jeongguk hums, focus still locked on the book in front of him, eyes narrowed. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t ask why you came here in the first place, and doesn’t acknowledge your apology. Ugh. This is humiliating.

Before you can stand, you feel something heavy draped over your body. It’s a jacket. Definitely not yours, since you never took it off. At least not consciously. No, this is a worn black leather one on which his scent lingers. You tug it closer, puzzled, and then look up at him, holding it out. “Did I steal this in my sleep?”

Jeongguk scrunches his nose, “Ew, are you a sleepwalker?” Locking the till, he strolls over to you and plucks the jacket from you, casually slipping it on. “No, I put it on you. Wanted to see how long someone could feel safe enough to pass out in my studio. Thinking of turning this place into a daycare. I’ll have you play in the morning, get some lunch, nap time...”

There’s a beat of silence in which his sarcasm lingers in the air, and you stare at him, unamused. He shrugs, smirk unwavering.

You huff, “I regret coming here.”

“Yeah, why did you come here?”

Smoothing down your pink wool sweater, you stand up to stretch with zero shame. Then, fluttering your lashes at him, you assert with a smile, “You’re coming with me to the Christmas markets. This Sunday.”

Jeongguk groans like the idea physically pains him, “Oh, I would fucking hate that.”

Ignoring him, you zip up your puffer jacket and rock on your toes, “Pick me up at seven, okay?”

He glares, unimpressed at your excitement, before heading toward the entrance and pulling a hefty set of keys from his pocket, “I don’t even remember where you live.”

You hurry after him, following him outside and shuffling closer in your coat at the cold air hitting you. Watching as he locks the door and pulls down the rolling shutter with its red-and-black skull graffiti, you chirp, “You’ll have to text me for that.”

Jeongguk rises up again, giving you a slow once-over. He seems distracted by your hair before snorting, “You’re talking like I’m the one who spent their afternoon napping in my studio just to drop this bomb and leave. Couldn’t you just text me this?”

You shrug innocently. He sighs, reaching out for you, “Do you need a ride hom—”

“Bye!”

You spin on your heel and skip off in the opposite direction before he can let his own greeting out, waving a gloved hand behind you. Jeongguk stays where he is, arm still held out.

Do you even have a car? He hopes so—it’s freezing out.

With another sigh, he shakes his head and tugs his jacket tighter around himself. Why are you so fucking weird?

On the fourteenth day of December, your arm is looped tightly through Jeongguk’s as you stroll through the Christmas markets, burying your face further in your scarf to shield against the icy air, and with each few step you gasp at things that the boy next to you finds utterly unimpressive.

You stop at nearly every stand, eyes glowing with the warm Christmas fairy lights strung all around, effortlessly picking up conversations with the vendors and melting even the most stoic faces with the scrunching of your nose at every grin and the exaggerated nods following descriptions of their crafts.

Through all of it, Jeongguk remains put at your side, his arm linked with yours and a subtle pout on his lips. When you tease him about it, he simply shrugs, and you figure it’s just his natural expression. You find that oddly endearing.

He still humors your enthusiasm, offering low hums or murmured praise whenever you exclaim you’ve finally found what you’ve been searching for everywhere, and he offers to pay every time, the gesture so casual that he doesn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest.

When you bow to the nth seller, clutching yet another bag of sweet treats tightly to your chest, Jeongguk exhales and resumes slow walking beside you, “I don't like these places.”

You glance up at him, fluffy hat almost slipping off before he promptly secures it back on your head with a gesture so smooth you hardly notice it. You instead wonder, “Then why are we here now?”

He slips his hand into his pocket, “Because you threatened me.”

“With a really good time.”

“If this is your version of a good time, you might as well kick me in the balls. That probably feels better.”

You gasp, halting in your tracks to glare at him. When he lets a small chuckle topple out of him, you think you might forgive him. No, you’re more than sure with the way his smile lingers. You sheepishly look away, muttering, “Don’t tempt me, emo boy.”

“I’m not—”

“Oh yes, you are,” you interrupt, snapping your face back to his. Clearing your throat, you prepare your best imitation of him, exaggerating a frown and lowering your voice, “I’m so different, I hate Christmas.”

Jeongguk scoffs, pulling you tighter to him when a scooter unexpectedly zips past you. You yelp, instinctively shuffling closer to his arm. He continues the conversation casually, unaffected, “That’s the worst impression of me I’ve ever heard. And also, I never said that.”

Releasing the breath you held for a moment too long, you uncertainly keep your slow stroll going, only narrowing your orbs at him, “It’s written all over your face.”

“I love Christmas.”

The admission is small, his voice soft and almost reluctant, like it pains him to reveal something so simple and obvious as loving Christmas. When you lean your chin on the puffed arm of his jacket, he doesn’t look down at you, his gaze fixed ahead, guiding the two of you through the chaos of the busy street.

You chirp, your steps stumbling, “Really?

Only then he shifts his attention to you, steadying you with his other arm wrapping around your figure in what seems like a hug, before he lifts you up by the neck of your coat and retreats just enough to face you. His lips press into a straight line as he nods, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes the more he stares in yours, “Yeah, really. I just don’t like… crowded spaces.”

You can’t help but think back to what happened just a week ago. The exact reason why the spirals in your brain wouldn’t stop twisting and tangling is now slipping from his lips in a voice that quietens as he seems to grasp the delicacy of his own confession.

He doesn’t like the way you’re looking at him. Drawn-up brows over wide and sparkling eyes—the only part of your face visible beneath your scarf—stare at him with something too tender, too focused, that makes him uneasy. He turns his head to the side, the tips of his ears red not only from the cold, and pulls you along toward another stand, an almost nervous distraction.

It’s your turn to frown. Maybe the one that’s permanently plastered on his face tonight isn’t just a reflection of his usual sullen demeanor. With a knot tightening in your chest, you can’t help but feel like you dragged him into something he truly hated, and that he wasn’t just pretending to.

What if this isn’t just your evil inner voice talking? What if this isn’t just overthinking, but the factual truth of your current reality? He’s hating every second of this but still enduring it because— you catch your breath with a long and strained inhale, because—

“Hey, dimples. You okay?”

Jeongguk moves to stand in front of you, his hands settling gently on your shoulders, a stance eerily reminiscent of that night you were just thinking back to. He nods at you, “Breathe with me, hm?”

You find yourself quickly adjusting to his comforting aura, drawn in by the reassurance in his eyes trained on you, never wavering, watching closely as you begin to mirror the measured rise and fall of his chest, your breathing gradually syncing with his until the tightness in your chest starts to ease.

When you feel your feet touching the ground again, you offer a small, apologetic smile. “I’m okay. Sorry. Just…” You quickly scan your surroundings, eyes landing on a colorful stand, “Wait here a second, okay?”

Jeongguk lets you slip away, fingers twitching slightly at his sides. He takes a few hesitant steps closer, careful not to crowd you but unable to tear his eyes away from your next actions, how your grin comes back on your lips with unpracticed ease, lighting up your face as easy talk flows between you and the seller. A few coins trade hands, and soon you’re holding two churros, their chocolate-dipped ends threatening to drip onto the ground.

You don’t hesitate, biting into one of them before it has the chance to make a mess, and with a quick nod of your head you motion for Jeongguk to follow. He does so, only after taking the churros from your hands, and letting you seek his warmth again with an arm snaking under his. He’s only letting you do this because it’s fucking cold, no other reason.

You walk, and walk, guiding him along until you find a quieter corner, away from the bustle, where you two stand isolated from the rest. The dim lighting casts a softer glow, and the distant hum of chatter and music fades into a gentle background noise.

Glancing up at him, you flash a playful smile before leaning in to bite another chunk of the churro he’s holding, your laughter spilling out as he grimaces in exaggerated disgust and pulls the sweet out of your reach. You settle onto a nearby bench, patting the empty spot beside you invitingly.

Jeongguk is unsure of what this means. He takes slow steps towards you, handing you your churro—which you take eagerly, already chewing on it—before tilting his head back in mild confusion, “But… you wanted to visit the markets.”

You shake your head, your bug eyes meeting his as you speak around a mouthful of sugar and chocolate, “There’s no point if you’re not going to enjoy it.”

The look you’re giving him is one he’s seen countless times before—familiar, and annoyingly reminiscent of ten years ago. It’s the same look that, he’s convinced, is solely responsible for making his knees weak and his fingers jittery, no longer something he can blame on the cold. You’re unbelievably frustrating.

He clicks his tongue, looking away, “You’re fucking weird.”

You giggle, humming, “If weird is a synonym for whipped, then sure.”

He has to fight the twitch of his lips. Fakes a gag instead. You chuckle louder. Only then, he hints at a smile, “C’mon. Let’s go check out some other stuff.”

“But—”

He interrupts, pulling you up by your forearm, “I’m hungry.”

The next hour you spend wandering around is made of Jeongguk’s small, imperceptible ways of cracking: his pout less prominent, more replaced by lips pulled into a tight line or in a mildly pursued scowl as you ask him which beanie looks better—the pink or purple one; his so evident sarcasm as he comments on how the old vendor was totally flirting with you, or when he mockingly adds to your over-the-top excitement every time you spot a dog. All in all, he’s more relaxed. More himself.

You then find yourself standing in front of the churros stall from earlier, the warm scent tugging you closer. Without hesitation, you ask the lady behind the counter for another four churros—this time with extra sugar. You add two thank yous.

To fill the waiting, you pick up casual conversation with the woman, until she pauses mid-sentence, wrinkled hand coming to rest over her heart as her gaze flits between you and Jeongguk, her crinkled eyes lighting with a sudden fondness and a quiet, content smile finds its space on her chapped lips, “You two look perfect together.”

Jeongguk snorts, “Oh, we’re not—”

“Thank you, auntie!” You chirp, and your grin is so wide it squeezes your eyes into crescents. You accept the first churro she hands over, biting into it and talking through it, “These are delicious. Is the recipe a secret or can you share it with me?”

The woman laughs, clearly flustered by your energy, and leans in with a conspiratorial expression, though she gives in pretty soon, “It is a secret, but… Oh, c’mon. A pretty lady like you deserves to know.”

You burst into chuckles, joined by auntie’s own rolling and carrying a contrasting warmth to the cold air. Jeongguk, for his part, stands slightly to the side, observing. You still cling to his arm, even as the vendor reaches over to gently smooth her fingers through your curls, complimenting the way they frame your face. You roll your eyes, feigning exasperation, but there’s a dimpled smile stretching on your cheeks that gives you away.

Before you leave, the lady points to Jeongguk, voice growing earnest, “You, handsome. I can see you’re a good guy, so you probably don’t need my advice. But treat her right, yes?”

Jeongguk stills for a second and stumbles over an awkward nod, managing to force a smile that has you stifling a laugh under your scarf. You tug him away with a cheerful wave to your new friend, promising her you’ll come visit again before Christmas.

Once you’re at a safe distance, he mutters, “Why did you not tell her that we’re not together?”

You tilt your head considering his question, “It’s not like she knows us. She looked like she adored you. I didn’t want to ruin that for her. Maybe seeing a young couple like us really means a lot to her.”

Jeongguk observes how the more you explain, the more you’re convincing yourself as much as him, eventually solidifying your reasoning as you nod, muttering some more under your breath. He scoffs, looking away to hide his lips twitching.

When he turns back he’s frowning, though it doesn’t quite match the way he lets you hook arms again, your pastel pink bag hanging from his shoulders. Still, he sulks as though the mere thought of your observation has him shivering, and not with the cold, “We’re not a couple.”

Jeongguk barely gets to let his unnecessarily petty comment out before you drag him with an unusual strength over to another stand, his voice not even touching your ears, “Oh, let’s go over there, Gguk!”

On the twenty-first day or December, you send him a picture of your tattoo.

You had been talking non-stop ever since your… date? Or was it just a hangout? Whatever it was, it’s been a week, and Jeongguk finds himself smiling at a fucking screen too many times a day for his linking. It’s irritating. Even brings his phone with him to the bathroom in case you text him. Not because he cares. No, it’s practical. What if you ever had an emergency and he was the only one who could help?

Most of the time it’s just you sending TikToks, but he clicks on the links with the same urgency he’d reply to a genuine plea for help. He doesn’t really want to think of the reason why.

Now, this picture—it catches Jeongguk off guard.

It doesn’t even look like it’s about the tattoo. Not really. It feels like an excuse, a flimsy pretext for you to show yourself to him. The tattoo—the one he himself inked—is there, yes. But it’s not at all the main focus of the photo that tightens his grip on his phone.

You’re wearing a thin, pink tank top with delicate lace trim, the straps barely clinging to your shoulders. Your fingers hook under the neckline, tugging it down just enough to expose the tattoo nestled between the soft curve of your breasts. The angle of the shot is deliberate, he can tell. Your back arches slightly off what he assumes is your bed, and your face is cropped out, save for your glossed lips, full and slightly parted, catching the dim light.

Jeongguk blinks, hard. Then again. His throat bobs as he swallows thickly, the low light of his phone screen doing little to soften the image burning itself into his mind. His eyes dart upward, scanning his surroundings, just to make sure everything is in place. The shop is empty, the door is closed, the hum of quiet settles over the space.

Looking down, the picture still stares back at him paired with a single message.

Annoying [11:39 p.m.]: do you think it’s healed? idk about this stuff, need your help 🥺

He’s not stupid. He knows exactly what this is. He alternates between the photo and your words, jaw ticking and tightening more with the seconds flowing.

It’s almost cruel, the way you’re testing him like this. He tries to push the feeling down, to reject the buzz of heat pooling low in his stomach. You know him well enough to be aware that he won’t reply to something like this. A stupid, unnecessary message. The tattoo is healed—he told you that a week ago, clear as day. There’s no reason for you to ask again.

What’s the purpose of this?

He gets a distorted idea when he shifts uncomfortably in place, the dull ache tightening his pants almost unbearable now.

Jeongguk groans and locks his phone, tossing it onto the counter as if that will put an end to this. He tries to refocus on his tasks, the last ones before he clocks off. Cleaning needles, tossing used stencils.

But his heavy balls keep sending desperate, silent prayers to his brain, to please let them have this. Just this once.

It’s been a bad day. Two of his appointments canceled last minute, leaving him to sit around bored. The last client showed up drunk and wouldn’t stop trying to flirt with him. His coworkers were loud and distracting, and to top it all off, the heater broke, leaving the studio freezing cold.

It’s been such a bad day.

So, would there be any harm? It’s not like anyone will know. Not you, not his friends. He’s the only one that will. And he’s far more willing to live with this dirty secret rather than with his hard dick straining achingly in its confines.

Jeongguk abruptly snatches up his phone again, unlocking it to the same picture that caused him to brush the device aside just minutes ago. He lets out a shaky breath, thumb hovering over the screen. You won’t get no reply to him. But if you knew what he was up to right now, you would probably geek. Tease him, with your warm smile that digs dimples in your cheek, hopping on your toes to poke at his chest playfully, with those perfectly manicured hands of yours.

“Shit,” his free hand is already pushing the jeans down along with his boxers, and he drops his weight onto the nearest stool as he grips at the base of his thick cock, eyes devouring the image of you in the empty chat.

He doesn’t zoom in. That would feel too shameless. But he finds it oddly better like this. Is it weird that your text, so innocently worded, is turning him on? That the simple idea of you needing his help is enough to have his hips jerking?

What could you possibly need his help for? Fuck. The different ideas that pool his mind have him squeezing harder at his stinging tip.

Jeongguk focuses on your dainty hand, slim pointer finger snaking under the collar of your flimsy shirt to show yourself to him, and your small boobs spill from the sides with a delicious, soft swell. He hisses when he pictures that same hand working on him instead, his warm mouth stuffed with your stiff nipples, visible through the sheer material.

He can’t help the loud groan leaving his lips, wrist flickering up and down in a motion that feels sloppy way too soon, hips jutting up to fuck into his tight fist. Throwing his head back, he sees you even behind closed eyelids.

He pictures your delicate figure sprawled on his bed, long lashes batting up at him as you sheepishly hide with your cheek to your shoulder. Can clearly make out how you’d sit on his lap instead, unsteady breath fanning over his lips, using his long shaft to make yourself cum. The whole time, he sees the tattoo on your chest, the one that is forever on you, eternally a reminder of him.

When he lets his head topple forward again, his bright screen still stares at him, only because a new message pops up in the chat. He startles, and his cock throbs in his hand.

Annoying [11:52 p.m.]: oh, and i miss you.

“Oh, fuck,” the curse is strained through a loud whine, and only followed by more of his full moans filling the room. His brows knit as his hand moves rapidly, palm collecting the precum spreading embarrassingly fast on his tip and rolling it down his length.

He focuses on your parted lips, the soft curve of your breast, your hard nipples begging to be sucked and spit on. Your last text has flashes of your bug-like eyes staring up at him seizing his mind.

That’s what undoes him. He’s delirious as he lets out his every sound, freely, unchecked, not caring about how loud he is, whimpering as he gets closer to his climax. When he thinks of those eyes locking with his, kneeling before him, eager and willing to swallow his every drop, he cums. Hard.

Jeongguk pumps everything he can out of him, and it’s messy—spilling over his hand, staining his clothes, pooling on the floor. His chest heaves with the effort, and the sensation of abandon he feels is so pleasurable, energy drained but leaving him with a lightness that threatens to make his cock hard again.

Fuck. He can’t afford that happening if you’re not the one attending his needs. This won’t be enough, not until it’s you. He’s insatiable.

Jeongguk needs to hear your voice.

It’s an instinct, and he bends to it. He’s careful, making sure not to tap on the FaceTime option, because if you were to see him right now it’d be glaringly obvious.

When he looks to the side, he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the long mirror, and he visibly grimaces at the way his cheeks are flushed, the pearls of sweat coating his forehead causing his bangs to stick uncomfortably to the skin.

Guilty doesn’t even begin to cover it.

With the phone to his ear beeping to eternity, he hesitates, contemplates ending the call before you can answer. But just then, you do.

“Jeongguk! Is everything okay?”

Your voice is familiarly soft, but there’s a trace of concern. Blinking, he brings the device closer again and gulps thickly when he can make out your panting breaths. He clears his throat and puts on his best nonchalant act, “Huh— Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know… You just never call. Or text first. This is weird. You sure you’re okay?”

Oh. Is that really what it is like?

Jeongguk never realized this was how he came across—so detached that a simple phone call feels out of character. Your naive honesty hits him square in the chest. God, he needs to get better at this. The irony stings: he just fucking jerked off to your picture and the simple thought of you, while you’re on the other side thinking he’s just a careless piece of shit who doesn’t even know how to call.

The long stretch of silence registers in his brain, and he coughs to buy time, “Yes, I’m sure. I— huh,” he thinks of stuff you usually ask to keep the conversation flowing. Not out of courtesy, but out of genuine interest, the curiosity that makes people want to open up. He’s still not used to that. Still finds it weird.

“How… How was your day?”

It must be equally weird for you because it takes you a longer beat to reply. In that quiet moment, he clenches his eyes shut and feels his jaw tick with shame. And embarrassment. And this icky feeling that makes him feel too mushy for his liking. Hell, what is he doing? He’s never been like this, he’s not supposed to be like this.

But you recover quickly, as you always do, and you smooth over the moment. Fix it all for him like you were born to be just that. Make him feel like he fits in ways that have him exhaling shakily.

Jeongguk senses a foreign drumming in his stomach, and it’s warm but odd, and he loves it but he doesn’t want to.

On the twenty-fifth day of December, cheekily under a mistletoe, Jeongguk realizes he wants you. There’s parts of him that probably knew way sooner. But the parts of him that didn’t, fighting tooth and nail to suppress the mere thought, are just now finally surrendering.

Jeongguk has always found you admirable, back in high school. You had this determination to you. Not only when it came to him. It shone particularly when you catered to others, always finding ways to help, to mend, to offer yourself with nothing less than a fully toothed smile.

But he’s also always thought you two were—and still are—too different to work. He can’t be what you want, let alone what you deserve: someone who can match your enthusiasm and unwavering smiles, your frustrating positivity; someone who sees the world the way you do. No black, no grey, no shades in between. Just bright, hopeful white. Blinding white.

It’s the white making him dizzy, shifting his perspective, having him believing the opposite of what he’s always known. Pushing to be a little more egoistical, deceiving himself that he’s right for you. Because he wants to be. He oh, so selfishly wants people to know he’s the one who finally gets to have you, the one gifted with such a light, unfairly deserving of all the love you carry into every room you walk into.

Just a few days ago, during another one of your increasingly frequent phone calls, you asked him what he was doing for Christmas. He could have lied, come up with something on the spot.

But with how you so easily, and always coax the truth out of him, he let it slip. He told you he’d be alone, words subtly heavy. But they didn’t have the chance to even drop their weight before you were already inviting him to your friend’s party, insisting that he would be the most welcome.

And he’s here, and he sits beside you, and every time you laugh you lean your weight over him, and the room vibrates with the energy you fill it with, and each one of your friends is so enamoured with you, and for reasons he can’t fully understand it fills him with a sense of pride that shouldn’t belong to him. But it does, and it comes with so many other feelings.

You don’t push him to talk. You never force him into the spotlight when he takes a step back, quietly observing, choosing to stay in the background. Because you read him like it’s in your nature to do so, your soul seems to intuitively melt with his, and it intertwines in such a tight knot that he feels it constrict his throat. He knows he’s still alive because his heart is beating, just a little faster with each time you flash your dimples at him.

“Dimples. What are you doing, hm?”

Now, he’s in front of you, a small smile on his lips as you stand on your tiptoes, trying to dangle the mistletoe over both your heads. You’re struggling just a little, your hand unable to reach high enough, and the fake plant awkwardly brushes his hair, the tickling sensation causing his nose to scrunch. You laugh.

Looking up at your swinging movements, you lose your balance for the slightest second. Jeongguk’s hands move instinctively, catching you promptly by the waist to steady your body. But even after that, he doesn’t shift, his warm palms stilling. And when you face him, he’s closer and his chest brushes against yours. From this proximity, he witnesses the Christmas lights painting a galaxy of their own in your orbs.

You beam, “What does it look like? We have to kiss now.”

Jeongguk stares in your expectant eyes, brows wiggling and all. The more his mouth keeps in a straight line, the more the wiggling slows. You eventually come down from your tiptoes, letting the mistletoe fall to the side, tilting your head.

He snorts, looking away briefly to hide an embarrassingly wide grin behind his hand. When he turns back to you, your pout is enough to have him scrambling to meet your gaze.

“On one condition, though.”

You chirp, “Yeah?”

He licks his teeth, reserving you with a smug look, “Admit that you were scared to get your tattoo.”

Your smile vanishes in an instant, your expression falling into mock offense. With a dramatic roll of your eyes, you turn on your heel, pretending to walk away from him. Pretending, only because you know he won’t let you. And you’re proven right when his fingers wrap around your arm, tugging you back with enough force to spin you into him. Suddenly, you’re pressed so close you can feel the heat radiating from him. Your chin nearly touches his chest as you glare up at him, narrowed eyes meeting the mischievous glint in his.

He bites a smile, lips twitching, “C’mon, princess. You wanted to act all tough and shit, but I could feel you shaking.”

Your scoff is loud and incredulous, “You’re such a bitch.”

He only shrugs, “You want my kiss, no?”

“Oh my god,” groaning, it’s your turn to face the side to hide a grin, “Are you always this cocky?”

His chin tilts upward slightly, and you can tell he’s enjoying this, “Say it.”

You whip back around to meet him with a seriousness he hardly ever sees on you, and you even clear your throat, channeling every ounce of the determination he knows you for, every drop of resolve that makes you you. “Yes. I was scared shitless, Jeongguk.”

Foreign excitement brims out of him, not before his eyes widen just a fraction, and his nose scrunches the more he leans closer to you, inches from you, swinging side to side with exaggerated mockery and a grin splitting his face, “See! I knew—hmph.”

There’s no other second to waste.

The condition has been met, and now all the requirements for you to claim what you were promised, your reward, are there. Even more when kissing him means catching him mid-taunt and silencing whatever teasing remark he had ready.

Your lips touch his in effortless ease, breaking the air as they press together. It’s tentative at first, almost uncertain as you feel Jeongguk remain still.

But it doesn’t take him longer to move, mouth molding against yours in a sickeningly sweet hug, tasting each other with quiet curiosity, taking your time to adjust and melt, instructing your bodies to imitate the dance.

Your arms lock around his neck, his stronger and tattooed ones circle your waist, and the way you click together feels so right, almost too perfect, so perfect it scares you. When you arch yourself further into him, even the non-existent space between you unbearable, he accompanies the motion with his wide palms gliding along your back, squeezing you into him, feeling the curve of your hips.

The soft whine that scratches your throat and vibrates against his lips betrays you, along with the useless effort to contain the intensity of what you’re feeling. The emotion disarms you, the sound gasping in your chest, but in Jeongguk’s arms it feels safe to let go.

On Christmas day, you crown a youthful fantasy, the kind you’ll look back to even when you’re older. Jeongguk feels like he’d be the right person to stand by you to do so.

When he reluctantly detaches from you, his face keeps at a safe distance that’d allow him to go back and taste you, not before resting his forehead on yours and whispering, “Merry Christmas.”

You giggle. “Merry Christmas, Gguk.”

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pitlanepeach · 1 month ago

Text

From Eden | Chapter Seven pt.1 (7/8)

Oscar Piastri x Francesca Gold (OFC)

Summary — Francesca Gold is an introvert with a quiet life and a Youtube channel where she talks about books, drinks too much tea, and rarely ever shows her face. She prefers it that way - tucked into her London flat with her cat, Henry, and safely hidden behind a screen.

Oscar Piastri is a Formula 1 driver. Fast-paced, high-stakes, always on the move. He hasn't read a book in years, but he's watched every single one of Francesca's videos. Just for the sound of her voice.

Following her on Instagram was a moment of weakness. He didn't think she'd notice.

She did.

Chapter Warnings — Agoraphobia, severe social anxiety, references to a skin-picking relapse, antidepressants, therapy sessions, bad family situations, panic attacks, sexual content.

Notes — Yes, Ch7 will be split into two halves, because I’m good to you guys like that, and have so much of their story left to tell. No social media posts in this one (hope u don’t mind). Enjoy — Peach x

iMessage — Oscar & Mark

Mark

How’s things mate?

Oscar

Really good.

Really, really good.

Mark

You’re all in for this girl then?

Oscar

All in.

Mark

Let me know when you want her in the paddock. I’ll make it work for her.

Oscar

Thanks. Means a lot

Mark

Anytime kid.

—

Francesca felt like everything was moving in slow motion.

The revolving doors of the Harper Collins offices loomed. She chewed on the inside of her cheek. God, why was everything was so clean? And bright. There were too many reflective surfaces. She caught a glimpse of herself in one of the chrome panels — pasty skinned, wide-eyed, white knuckling the strap of her handbag.

“You’re doing great,” Katie said beside her, breezing along in a bright yellow pantsuit, the epitome of an actual boss-babe. “You didn’t even throw up on the tube.”

“I’m sweating through my bra,” Francesca muttered back, voice tight. “I’m going to get… patches. Sweat patches.”

Katie rolled her eyes. “No, you won’t. This building is definitely air conditioned.”

They stepped into the marble-floored lobby. Francesca tried not to visibly recoil at the echoing sound of high-heels and the very serious man behind the reception desk. Her heart was thudding.

Over the past week, she’d done a lot of hard things. More walks to the cafe. More talking about her feelings. Upping the frequency of her therapy sessions to twice a week instead of once.

She could survive a publisher meeting.

The receptionist, not as intimidating once Katie had introduced them and he’d beamed at them (teeth and all), led them up in a mirrored elevator to the 14th floor. Francesca tried not to think about how long the fall would be if she had to resort to throwing herself out a window. Katie, probably reading the expression on her face, reached over and squeezed her hand.

When they stepped into the meeting room, everything smelled like coffee and expensive paper.

Two editors, a publicity manager, and a junior marketing exec were seated around the polished table, smiling like this was completely normal and not the most terrifying thing Francesca had ever done in her entire life.

“Francesca,” said the older of the editors — Laura, the woman they’d had a handful of zoom meetings with over the past few weeks. She stood and offered her hand. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you in person.”

Francesca smiled and hoped that it didn’t look to wobbly around the edges. “You too.”

She sat down. Katie followed without hesitation, plopping beside her like she belonged there; she did. None of this would be happening if it wasn’t for her. She was as big of a part of this deal as Francesca was.

There were questions about tone and voice and back cover copy. Francesca nodded along, offering thoughts when she had could actually manage to form them into words, Katie chiming in like a practiced publicist even though she technically wasn’t one.

When Laura mentioned the projected release date — June 2024 — Francesca blinked.

“That’s so soon,” she said softly. It was already November.

“That’s exciting,” Katie corrected her, nudging her under the table. “Right?”

Francesca nodded slowly. “Yeah. Exciting.”

She let the word sit there in her mouth, tasting it.

Laura smiled. “We think your audience will be more than ready. We’re already seeing a lot of positive engagement following your announcement, and that established platform that you have really does give us a great foundation to build on.”

Francesca swallowed. “That’s… amazing. I just— I want it all to go well.”

“It will,” the marketing exec said, with a nod that was full of certainty. “Your draft — what you’ve created — it’s vulnerable and funny and deeply human. People are going to see themselves in it. That’s rare in fiction, even rarer in contemporary romance. It’s impressive.”

She blinked hard. Looked at the table. Pushed through the hitch in her breath.

Katie covered her hand under the desk, her thumb brushing reassuring circles against Francesca’s knuckles. It was small, almost imperceptible, but it anchored her more than she could explain.

The meeting stretched well into the afternoon. Coffee and biscuits appeared partway through. When Francesca shyly asked if they happened to have oat milk, one of the assistants dashed off without hesitation, returning five minutes later with two cartons and an apologetic smile like it had been some kind of emergency.

Francesca didn’t know what to do with that level of accommodation. She sipped slowly, kept her shoulders down, and tried to answer every question directed her way with a level of professionalism that didn’t come naturally.

By the time they wrapped, her brain felt like soup. There were quick hugs goodbye, promises to follow up by email, someone scribbling a phone number onto a scrap of paper and handing it to Katie with an instruction to “get in touch” with any urgent follow-ups.

She let herself be ushered into the lift, then out through the revolving doors, and only when the cold November air hit her face did she let out a breath that had been building in her lungs for hours.

“I didn’t cry,” she murmured, almost in disbelief. Her eyes lifted to the slate-grey sky, where the clouds had settled low and heavy. London in November — foggy and damp.

Katie bumped their hips together gently, her tone somewhere between teasing and proud. “They loved you.”

Francesca laughed, shaky and a little stunned. “I guess. Maybe.”

“They did. You’re talented and lovely and weirdly charming when you’re nervous.”

“I’m always nervous.” Francesca deadpanned.

Katie grinned. “Exactly. It’s kind of your brand.”

Francesca let out a breathy laugh and tipped her head against her friend's shoulder for a moment.

“My brain’s doing that thing where I can’t remember anything I said,” she admitted.

Katie hummed. “You were great. You only said the word ‘vibes’ twice, and one of those times it actually worked in your favour.”

“Generous of them to let me get away with that,” Francesca said, the words half-laugh, half-relief.

Katie snorted. “They’re publishing your book and expecting it to make them millions, babe. You could’ve walked in there and recited the alphabet backwards and they still probably would’ve given you a round of applause. You had all of the power.”

Francesca glanced sideways, skeptical. “I was, like, shaking half the time. I spilt the oat milk.”

“You were adorable. And powerful.”

Francesca huffed a laugh, but didn’t argue. Instead, she looked up, gaze drifting over the familiar skyline — grey, fog-drenched.

She exhaled slowly. “I’m glad you were there with me.”

Katie, walking beside her with that usual casual grace, bumped her shoulder gently. “Always.”

The entrance to the tube station came into view at the end of the street, bustling and loud, people pouring in and out like water.

“You realise you’re in the acknowledgements, right?” Francesca said after a beat.

Katie arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “I’d better be. I want at least two full paragraphs.”

Francesca snorted. “Greedy.”

“Supportive,” Katie corrected primly, nose tilted in the air like she expected applause.

Francesca rolled her eyes, biting back a grin.

They reached the steps leading down to the underground platform, and Francesca’s pace faltered. Her hand landed on the rail, knuckles whitening as she gripped it. Her chest fluttered with that too-familiar tremor — the one that liked to remind her it could show up anywhere, anytime.

Katie noticed immediately. Of course she did.

She slowed too, watching her with gentle eyes. “We can get an uber,” she said quickly.

Francesca didn’t answer right away. Instead, she closed her eyes, grounding herself like Dr. Kapoor had taught her.

Three breaths, slow and deliberate. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Again.

Your fears are valid, she reminded herself, but they don’t get to dictate your day. They don’t have the power to actually hurt you.

She squeezed the railing, not out of panic this time, but as an anchor. Then she looked over at Katie and nodded, barely, but firmly. “No, it’s okay. I want to take the tube.”

Katie’s expression softened with something like pride — quiet and unspoken, but unmistakable. “Alright then,” she said. “Let’s go.”

—

She woke up sweating. Disoriented. Nausea clinging to her.

The dream was still sticky around the edges, too vivid to shake.

Oscar — in a glittering white tuxedo. An Elvis impersonator officiating. A woman Francesca didn’t recognise, tall and stunning, in a rhinestoned mini-dress and platform heels, blowing kisses to a fake crowd of cardboard cutouts.

There were fog machines. Lando Norris was playing “Viva Las Vegas” on a kazoo. Oscar looked confused. Then resigned. Then he said “I do.”

—

iMessage — Francesca & Oscar

Francesca

i had a dream

and by dream i mean horrifying nightmare

and i am blaming my new sertraline dose ok

but i need you to be honest with me

Oscar

You okay baby?

Ask me anything. I’m always honest with you

Francesca

does lando know how to play the kazoo

Oscar

Right. Literally would never have guessed that was where this was going

One sec. I’ll ask.

He does not.

He’s also deeply confused and a little afraid.

Francesca

okay phew

because in my dream you got VEGAS MARRIED

like i turned on the tv and there was a LIVE BROADCAST

of you wearing a glitter tux and holding hands with a woman named Brandi (with an i?????????)

and lando was your kazoo player slash ring bearer

and there were sparklers

Oscar

…I don’t even know where to start

First of all: never been near a kazoo

Second: you think I’d name someone named Brandi?

Francesca

idk. you looked so smug though

like “oh sorry babe i had no choice, she had great bone structure and her dad owns a boat dealership”

and THEN the wedding cake was shaped like your helmet.

i feel violent. i’ll kill her.

Oscar

Lando is finding this very funny.

Really? A helmet cake?

Francesca

okay but the crocs were the worst part

she was wearing white crocs with rhinestones that spelled out “WIFEY 4 LYFE”

i woke up sweating

Oscar

I would rather eat a kazoo than be legally bound to someone who wears crocs

Francesca

thank you.

i needed to hear that.

Oscar

Are you having any other side effects?

From your medication, not the dream

Francesca

um some nausea and headaches ig

nothing too bad

can u remind me what time i need to wake up to watch fp1

Oscar

6:30 baby

I’ll text u at 6 before I get my phone taken

Love you

Francesca

love you. don’t get married pls.

Oscar

I promise you that I won’t.

Get some sleep baby

—

The Zoom window opened with a quiet pop and a small ping. Francesca sat cross-legged on the sofa, laptop balanced on a cushion in her lap, a cup of chamomile tea going cold on the coffee table. The Las Vegas GP coverage was playing on mute on the TV — just FP3.

Dr. Kapoor smiled at her, framed by warm-toned bookshelves and a tall potted plant.

“Good morning, Francesca," she said, with that steady, velvet voice that had become an anchor of emotion. "How are you today?"

Francesca gave a half-shrug. “Floating. Not in a bad way, though. Like… a little bit light-headed. Like someone took my brain out, dipped it in disinfectant, and then put it back in. Upside down.”

Dr. Kapoor chuckled. “Ah. You increased your sertraline dose this week.” She recalled.

“Yup,” Francesca said, popping the ‘p’. “Per your suggestion. I know you warned me about the side effects, but the dreams have been, uh, pretty vivid.”

Dr. Kapoor’s brow lifted, amused. “That’s not unusual. Dosage changes can be a little problematic until they settle. Have you had any other symptoms?”

Francesca hesitated. “Some nausea. I’m drinking a lot more ginger tea than usual, but it’s manageable. Also headaches.”

“All very normal, and if I’m remembering correctly, exactly what you experienced when you started taking your very first dose.” Dr. Kapoor leaned in a little, eyes kind. “Are you doing well otherwise?”

“I— I think so,” Francesca said, then fiddled with the hem of her sleeve. “But I feel like there’s a limit on how far I can, like, push myself. You know how crazy these past few weeks have been; I feel like it might be too much, too soon.”

Dr. Kapoor’s expression softened, but her voice turned firm. “Francesca, I want to challenge something you just said.”

Francesca blinked. “Okay?”

“There is no ceiling on what you’re capable of,” Dr. Kapoor said. “You’ve internalised this idea that there’s a glass wall between you and the life you want — and sure, right now, some things might feel hard, maybe even impossible. But that wall? It’s not real. It’s just fear. And fear doesn't have control over you, not unless you want it to.”

Francesca swallowed, feeling off-centre. “I just don’t want to mess it all up. Especially when things feel… good. I don’t trust it.”

“That’s okay. Trust, even in ourselves, has to be earned over time,” Dr. Kapoor said, her voice steady. “But don’t mistake the discomfort of growth for danger. You’ve outgrown certain patterns, Francesca. Your world is expanding very quickly. It’s only natural to feel unsure.”

Francesca looked away from the screen for a second, blinking fast. “Sometimes I don’t even recognise myself lately,” she admitted.

“A million versions of you can exist all at once, in perfect tandem,” Dr. Kapoor said gently. “The scared version, the brave one, the writer, the woman in love, the one still healing — they’re all you. You don’t have to pick just one. You’re not a contradiction, Francesca. You’re human.”

Francesca let out a shaky breath, the tension in her shoulders loosening just a fraction. “So I’m allowed to be both terrified and… really, really happy?”

Dr. Kapoor smiled. “Absolutely. In fact, that’s usually how we know we’re moving forward — when both can exist at the same time.”

—

The living room was dim, lit only by the flicker of the race on her TV. It was still dark outside despite it technically being morning. Francesca sat cross-legged on the sofa, a blanket half-pulled around her shoulders, her phone resting nearby, screen dark.

She was trying not to be anxious. Really trying.

She knew Oscar was good — not just talented, but smart. Careful. Strategic in the way he drove.

Still, like they did during every race, her fingers had curled into the blanket without her noticing. Her knuckles had gone white.

It was an eventful first three laps. Chaos on every corner. Francesca kept her eyes locked on the timing sheets in the corner of the screen, watching Oscar’s number creep forward, her heart lifting every time he overtook someone cleanly.

He was going to get himself into the points if he kept driving that way for the rest of the race. Pulling something brilliant out of a back-of-the-grid start.

And then—

And then the crash happened.

It was sudden — jarring. One moment, the cars were slicing through the neon chaos of the Vegas strip, all controlled precision and searing light. The next, a blur of motion went sideways, smoke billowed, sparks flew. A car snapped against the barrier like a toy, wheels skidding, debris scattering. The camera cut wide. The commentators shot up in pitch, sharp and immediate, overlapping in alarm.

Francesca’s blood turned to ice.

“—McLaren in the wall—heavy impact—”

She couldn’t breathe.

Oh my god.

Oscar.

Her heart thundered against her ribs as she scrambled for the remote, nearly dropping it, fingers numb. She turned the volume up so fast the speakers on the TV crackled. The image on screen was too far away, the impact too quick — she couldn’t tell who it was. Couldn’t see the number, or the helmet.

The camera stayed wide. No confirmation. No replay. No name.

She felt sick. Her pulse roared in her ears.

Please not him. Please not him.

“And that’s the McLaren of Lando Norris—”

The relief hit so fast she almost keeled over. Her whole body folded forward, shoulders shaking, hand covering her mouth like it might hold her together.

It wasn’t Oscar. He was still driving. Still safe.

The rush of it — the overwhelming, selfish relief — made her dizzy. She wasn’t crying, not exactly, but her eyes burned, throat tight, breath coming in shallow gasps.

And then… slowly… it shifted.

The camera zoomed in on the wreckage.

She sat upright again, eyes narrowing as she took in the sight. The smoke was clearing, marshals were running. No movement from the cockpit yet.

Her relief soured into guilt.

It wasn’t Oscar… but it was still Lando.

Lando.

Her chest ached again, but for a different reason now.

“Come on,” she whispered to the screen. “Come on, get out. Be okay.”

The replays started. She flinched. The way the car had hit. The angle. The bounce.

She imagined Oscar watching it from the cockpit of his car. She imagined the silence in his radio. The breath that must’ve caught in his throat.

The guilt doubled.

It wasn't Oscar — but it could’ve been.

And now Lando was somewhere in that shattered car, and she didn’t know if he was okay.

They deployed the safety car.

The McLaren — what was left of it — sat limp in the runoff, sparks still flickering beneath it. The halo was intact. The front wing was gone. Smoke rose in gentle, mocking spirals.

Then, finally, movement.

The camera zoomed just slightly, shaky and grainy in the low light of the Vegas circuit — but there he was. Lando. Climbing out. Slowly, stiffly, but moving under his own power.

Francesca let out a sound she hadn’t meant to make — a breathy, gasping laugh that cracked down the middle. She leaned forward, hand gripping the edge of the coffee table like an anchor, eyes locked on the screen.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. She covered her face with both hands, sucked in a lungful of air, and let it go with a shaky exhale. “Thank god.”

The screen showed him walking, slowly, toward the medical car. A marshal steadying him. He was probably bruised to hell. Maybe concussed. But he was alive.

She watched the rest of the race with her heart in her throat.

—

Incoming FaceTime from Oscar

Her phone lit up just as she started pacing the kitchen for the third time since Oscar had passed the chequered flag.

Francesca answered instantly.

Oscar’s face filled the screen — a little sweaty, a little flushed, hair damp and stuck to his forehead, still in his race suit, half-unzipped to the waist. His fireproofs clung to his body like a second skin. The familiar chaos of a post-race backdrop buzzed behind him.

But his eyes were calm. Warm. Focused entirely on her.

“Hey, baby,” he said softly.

She didn’t return the greeting — not yet. “Is Lando okay?”

Oscar nodded immediately. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s alright. Bit winded. They’ve taken him to the hospital for checks, but he was up, talking, walking. Properly okay.”

Francesca let out a long breath and closed her eyes for a second. “I— I saw it happen. Thought it was you for a second. My heart stopped.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I figured you would’ve. You okay?”

Her hand trembled just slightly as she pushed her hair behind her ear. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay now. Just— needed to hear that he was okay from you, not the Sky Sports people, you know?”

He smiled gently, and even with the grainy front camera and the low lighting, it made her feel steadier. “He really is. Pretty sure he’s already on his way back to the paddock.”

“Good,” she said, her voice softer now. “And— hey. Points finish. P10. You did really well, Osc. I’m so proud of you.”

Oscar’s mouth twitched, like he was trying to bite down a grin and failing. His ears turned red. “Thanks, beautiful.”

—

iMessage — Lando & Francesca

Francesca

hey its francesca, oscar gave me ur number

rly glad ur ok, that looked scary

Lando

haha yeah im all good!

thanks for checking, means a lot

Francesca

u scared the shit out of me lol

Lando

😭😭😭

yeah sorry about that

wasn’t my best work

Francesca

do me a favour and try not to do that again

Lando

noted

Francesca

anyway, genuinely glad you're okay

Lando

cheers mate :) u ever need anything just lmk

Francesca

ty!

—

The call connected before Francesca could brace herself.

“Francesca,” her mum said immediately, like she’d been waiting by the phone for hours. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Hi, Mum.” Francesca tucked her legs beneath her, one hand already curled into the sleeve of her jumper. “Just wanted to call and check in. See how you and Dad are doing.”

“We’re managing,” her mother said with a pointed sigh, already shifting the tone. “Your father’s been having more trouble with his back again, of course. And I’ve had no help getting the decorations down from the loft — your sister promised she would, but you know how she is…”

Francesca nodded, even though her mum couldn’t see it. “That’s rough. I’m sorry.”

“Well.” A pause. “That’s why I hope you’ll be here for Christmas. It’s been too long, Francesca. We haven’t seen you in a year. You didn’t come in the summer, even though I practically begged—”

“I know, Mum, but I had work committments—”

“We all have work,” her mother said, voice wobbling. “But you make time for family. Especially now that we’re… not getting any younger.”

That particular line landed like a weight to the chest. Francesca rubbed at her temple. “Mum…”

“I just—” And then came the softest sniff, just audible enough. “I miss you, darling. I know you have your… your own little life. But I thought maybe Christmas, at least —you could make the effort for Christmas.”

Francesca swallowed against the lump in her throat. She thought about how tired she’d been lately, how much she’d wanted to spend Christmas quietly, maybe even with Oscar, maybe even happy. But instead, the image of her mum alone in the kitchen, crying over tinsel, took root in her mind.

“Okay,” she said, staring blankly at the wall. “Yeah. I’ll come.”

Her mother’s relief was immediate, audible in the way her breath rushed out. “Oh, thank you, sweetheart. Your dad will be so pleased. We’ll do all your favourites —those potatoes you like, and the pudding—”

Francesca closed her eyes, nodding again. She hated potatoes, didn’t like them in any form other than deep-fried, and the only pudding she was interested in were pastries that Oscar brought for her, still warm and fresh from the bakery down the road. “Yeah. That sounds good.” She lied.

“Maybe this time, you can stay longer than just two nights.” She said, slightly snippily.

“Mmhmm,” Francesca murmured, already feeling the edges of herself shrink back into something smaller.

—

Her living room was a riot of snacks and empty kebab containers.

Katie sat cross-legged on the floor, a blanket draped around her shoulders like a cape, holding a bright orange drink garnished with a paper umbrella and a gummy tyre. Francesca was curled sideways in the armchair, an 81 McLaren cap pulled low over her eyes, the brim doing little to hide her hyper-focus on the screen.

“Okay, these are actually good,” Katie said, gesturing to her mocktail. “Did you invent these?”

“I adapted the recipe,” Francesca said, smug. “Google gave me a Red Bull themed one and I nearly threw my phone in the bin.”

Katie cackled. “Aw. You’re so loyal.”

“Not hard when they’ve got best driver on the grid,” Francesca mumbled, eyes glued to the formation lap.

“So… You’re really going to your parents for Christmas?” Katie asked, plucking a popcorn kernel from the bowl between them.

Francesca nodded slowly. “Yeah. I still need to book my flights and talk to Osc about it, but… yeah. Mum’s already sent me a list of things that she needs me to do when I get there.”

Katie winced. “You okay with that?”

“I think so.” Francesca ran her thumb along the side of her cup. “I mean, no. Not really. But I said yes anyway, didn’t argue too much. And I do want to see my dad.”

“What do you think he’ll say about it? Oscar?” She asked, head tilted.

Francesca shrugged. “I don’t know,” then her expression softened. “But his family are coming to London next week, actually. Staying for a couple nights.”

“Wait, they’re coming to you?” Katie asked, her eyes wide.

“Mmhmm,” Francesca said, tucking her knees up under her oversized hoodie — Oscar’s hoodie, technically, soft from wear and printed with his number across the back. “I said I felt bad about it, so he just made up some elaborate lie about Hattie wanting to go to the Christmas markets and try the churros in Hyde Park.”

She tugged at the hem of the sleeve, twisting it between her fingers, a small smile pulling at her mouth despite herself.

Katie snorted into her glass. “Well. Nobody can ever accuse him of being a good liar.”

“No, he’s terrible,” Francesca agreed, fondly exasperated. “He tried to look serious while saying it, but I could hear the smirk through the phone.”

“He’s such a simp for you,” Katie grinned. “It’s kind of biblical.”

Francesca didn’t disagree. She tilted her head back against the armchair, eyes flicking back to the screen. The pre-race build-up was rolling on — sweeping drone shots, pit crew scrambling, the overhead buzz of helicopters blending into the hum of nerves in her chest.

“He’s travelling back here in two days,” she said, voice soft. “Straight from Abu Dhabi. No press. No detours. Just… me.”

Katie raised her glass like a toast. “To the final race of the 2023 season.”

“To Oscar officially winning Rookie of the Year,” Francesca corrected, her eyes shining as she clinked their glasses together.

In truth, she was only half watching the screen now — the rest of her mind was already spinning ahead, past the chequered flag, past the interviews and flights and time zones. To the moment the front door would creak open and Oscar would be standing there, backpack slung over one shoulder, exhausted but smiling. Hers.

She imagined his hands on her waist. Nipping at his neck and watching his nose scrunch in response. How his voice would go soft when he finally whispered hi, beautiful.

The lights on the grid went out — five reds blinking out in sequence — and both girls leaned forward like clockwork, all anticipation.

Snacks forgotten. Breath held.

“Lights out and away we go!”

—

The bathroom was full of steam and lavender, the soft fizz of a half-melted bath bomb curling lazy tendrils through the air. Her candle flickered on the windowsill, casting golden light across the bubbles piled high around her shoulders.

Francesca sank a little deeper into the heat, her phone held above the water in one hand, thumb scrolling absently through her Pinterest board labeled ‘Monaco Apartment’.

There were photos of sun-drenched balconies with striped umbrellas, airy cream interiors, lemon trees in terra cotta pots. Shelves lined with books and trinkets. Kitchens too pretty to ever cook in. One picture had a view that looked suspiciously like it came straight from Oscar’s daydreams — a narrow window framing a sliver of glittering sea. One of the pictures had a framed photo of a Formula One car hanging above a desk — a desk that could be hers. Used to edit on, write on, and film behind.

Henry, perched regally on the closed toilet seat, gave a soft, chirping meow.

Francesca tilted the phone to show him a pin she’d just saved — a sunny corner nook with a hammock slung just below a wide-open window, a ginger cat lounging in a patch of light.

“Well?” she asked. “Would you want that to be you?”

Henry blinked slowly, then meowed again, louder this time, tail flicking once.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She smiled, heart doing that soft little skip it always did when she let herself imagine it — not just Monaco, but the after. The life that came with it. The one she was slowly starting to believe she might actually get to have.

Somewhere between fantasy and possibility, she saved the pin and let herself drift a little deeper into the bubbles.

—

iMessage — Francesca & Oscar

Francesca

currently having a crisis

Oscar

You okay??

What kind of crisis are we talking

Francesca

i don’t know what to get your dad for christmas

Oscar

What??

You’re getting my dad a Christmas present?

Francesca

babe i’m getting your entire family presents lol

anyway do you think he’d like some fancy wine? or is that too boring. socks? books? a bonsai tree?

Oscar

You really don’t have to do that

They will love you, presents or not

Francesca

everyone else was easy to buy for but your dad has very specific vibes

he’s difficult. mysterious. i must impress him…

Oscar

He’s literally just a chill guy who watches cricket and makes too many dad jokes

You’re overthinking

Francesca

okay but hear me out

what if i knit him a scarf

and then he wears it

and i become his favourite

think of the long-term benefits osc

Oscar

If you knit my dad a scarf he will cry. Actually cry.

Do it. I wanna see it

Francesca

say less

pulling out the yarn as we speak

it will be mclaren themed so he can wear it on race weekends

Oscar

You’re crazy

I miss you so much it’s painful

See you in less than 48 hours baby

Francesca

i’m gonna jump you at the door

just so you know

Oscar

I’ll catch you

—

The flat smelled like cinnamon and pine — Francesca had gone a little overboard with festive candles and a preemptive fake Christmas tree (still undecorated, but proudly up and not at all lopsided). The heating was on full blast, and Henry was perched by the door, waiting.

She’d made a banner. Like, a very large banner — with gold lettering and orange glitter and those little sticky foam stars you get in craft kits.

WELCOME HOME, ROOKIE OF THE YEAR

It hung wonkily across the living room wall. She stood underneath it in an oversized McLaren hoodie, leggings, and socks with snowmen on them. She had half a mind to be embarrassed — but she was too excited.

The door, unlocked in preparation for his arrival, swung open.

And there he was.

Flushed from travel, hair rumpled, that stupid duffle bag slung over one shoulder. His eyes found hers instantly, lighting up like they always did, and for a second, he just stood there — stunned, smile blooming slow and warm across his face.

“Rookie of the year,” she announced, spreading her arms, presenting him with the banner and all her pent-up affection. “I’m so proud of you!”

He dropped the bag. “You’re insane,” he said, already laughing. “Baby. You made a banner?”

She was across the room and in his arms a second later. He caught her with a soft, surprised breath, holding her tight, lifting her slightly off the ground.

“I missed you so much,” she whispered, burying her face in his neck.

“I thought about you every second,” he said. “Couldn’t wait to come back to you.”

“You’re here now,” she murmured, kissing his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth.

He grinned — and then she kissed him fully, properly, like she'd been waiting all month. Because she had.

His hands slid up under her hoodie as they stumbled toward the sofa, laughing between kisses, clumsy with how much they wanted — wanted to be close, wanted to feel like themselves again, all skin and heartbeats and soft sighs.

The banner fluttered slightly above them. Henry meowed disapprovingly at being ignored, and promptly turned tail and stomped into the kitchen.

Francesca’s back hit the sofa cushions, a quiet gasp leaving her as Oscar followed her down, his thumbs brushing the warm skin just beneath her ribs.

“I like this hoodie on you,” he said into her neck. “But I need it gone.”

She laughed softly, breath hitching as he kissed a slow line along her collarbone. “I stole it fair and square.”

“I’ll let you have it back,” he said, pulling it up, over her head — his fingers a little clumsy, caught in her hair. “Later.”

He kissed her like he meant it — deep and slow, like he had nowhere else in the world to be, like he’d missed her every single second they’d been apart. His hands found her waist, curved over her hips like muscle memory, tugging her closer until she could feel how much he wanted her.

“You’re warm,” she whispered, letting her legs fall open just enough to pull him between them.

“I ran up the stairs,” he murmured against her lips. “I couldn’t wait for the lift.”

Clothes came off in messy layers, half-laughed, half-torn, with the urgency of two people who’d waited too long and weren’t even trying to be patient anymore.

Francesca traced her fingers down the line of his spine, kissed the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, then lower. Oscar groaned softly, eyes fluttering shut, already breathless.

When he finally sank into her, their bodies fitting together like they always had — like they were made for this — Francesca clutched at his shoulders, pulled him in even closer.

“Hi,” she whispered, dazed and dizzy.

Oscar laughed, kissed her with a grin. “Hi, beautiful.”

They moved slow at first — hands roaming, mouths exploring, like they were relearning each other from scratch — then faster, more desperate, tangled up in each other and the couch cushions and the soft creak of the old wooden floorboards beneath them.

Oscar murmured her name, forehead pressed to hers, eyes so full of awe it made her chest ache.

She came first, clinging to him, breath caught on a gasp, heart wide open.

He followed with a low, wrecked moan, collapsing against her with a weight that felt more like surrender than anything else. Safe. Home.

—

ONE WEEK LATER

Francesca checked the oven clock for the third time in as many minutes.

“They land in half an hour,” Oscar said behind her, slipping his arms around her waist and leaning his chin on her shoulder. “We’ve got ages, babe.”

“I just—what if your mum doesn’t like me?” she asked, turning slightly in his hold, nerves edging her voice. “What if your dad thinks I’m weird? What if your sister thinks I’m… boring?”

Oscar gave her a flat look. “Hattie has your book pre-ordered. A signed copy. She talks about you all the damn time.”

Francesca blinked up at him. “She does not.”

“She does,” he said with a grin, pressing a soft kiss to the shell of her ear. “My mum is trying to fake being cool, but she’s so excited to meet you. And my dad’s probably going to try and convince us both to go back to Australia with them and then never let us leave.”

She breathed in deeply, but her shoulders didn’t fully settle. “Should I have made a roast? Should I have baked something?” she asked, after a beat, wringing her fingers in the hem of her jumper.

Oscar leaned back slightly so he could see her face better, resting his hands lightly on her hips. “Baby. No one’s expecting anything from you. They just want to meet you. That’s it.”

Francesca gave him a sceptical look, but he just smiled, warm and fond and utterly sure.

“We’re going to order that really good takeaway Thai that you love, and we’ve got Henry on emotional support duty, and you look��” he paused, letting his eyes sweep her slowly, head to toe, “—ridiculously beautiful. I would kiss you right now, except that I’m afraid if I start, I won’t be able to stop.”

She gave him a small, reluctant smile, and he caught her chin gently between his fingers to tip her gaze up.

“You don’t have to perform for them,” he said softly. “Just be you. That’s the person I fell for. That’s the person they’re about to fall for too.”

Francesca blinked, throat suddenly thick. “God, you’re good at this.”

Oscar grinned. “What, being your boyfriend? Yeah. Been practising.”

She sniffed in amusement, leaning into him. “Love you.”

He lifted her onto the kitchen counter. She automatically wrapped her legs around his waist and draped her arms over his shoulders.

“Love you more.” He said against her lips.

—

Three hours later, they were at the door.

Francesca stood just behind Oscar, her palms slightly damp where they pressed to the hem of her t-shirt.

Oscar glanced back at her with a soft smile, one hand already on the door handle. “You’re gonna be fine. Promise.”

She nodded, even though her stomach was somersaulting.

Then, the door swung open.

“Oscar!”

Nicole barely gave her son a second to breathe before she launched into a hug — arms wound tightly around his shoulders, her face pressed against his cheek. She was radiant, glamorous in that naturally chic way, with a warm Australian accent that rolled off her tongue like sunlight.

“Oh my god, my boy,” she said, pulling back to hold him at arm’s length like she needed to take stock of him in real time. “You look so good. Older!”

Oscar laughed, ducking his head. “Mum, you literally saw me two months ago.”

Nicole turned — and her expression immediately softened into something even warmer. Her eyes found Francesca. “And you must be Francesca.”

Before Francesca could say a word, she was swept into a firm, no-nonsense hug that smelled faintly of sandalwood and rose. Nicole’s grip was all-in — no hesitation, no formality. Just pure unbridled warmth.

“You are so beautiful,” she said, cupping Francesca’s cheek in both hands once she stepped back. “He’s completely obsessed with you, you know.”

Francesca blinked, and then her face flamed red. “Um — likewise.” She whispered, glancing over at Oscar, who winked at her, and then blushed himself when he realised his mum had probably seen him do it.

Then came Chris, who stepped up behind Nicole with an easy, gentlemanly smile. He was tall and quietly charismatic, with the kind of calming energy that could neutralise a room.

“Lovely to finally meet you,” he said, extending a hand.

When Francesca shook it, he gave a small nod and gently patted her other hand, like she was someone to be trusted with something precious. “Thank you for looking after our boy.”

She smiled, unsure what to say, but touched by how genuine he sounded.

And then—

A thud and a grunt came from behind them, and Oscar rolled his eyes fondly. “And that’s Hattie.”

Hattie stumbled in with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and sunglasses still perched on her head. She was all chaotic charm — jeans with paint on them, an oversized denim jacket, and about six mismatched rings.

“Finally,” she said, dropping the bag like it had personally offended her and striding over to Francesca. “You’re real! And you’re so pretty!”

Francesca laughed, startled by the sheer energy. “I— Thank you. So are you.”

“I can’t believe I’m actually in your apartment.” Hattie threw her arms around Francesca like they were already best friends, and it filled Francesca with ease. “I’m sorry in advance for how much I’m gonna annoy you this weekend, but I literally feel like I’m meeting my favourite internet celebrity right now.”

Oscar mouthed, told you so from behind her.

Nicole was cooing at Henry, who was perched high on the windowsill, blinking slowly .“And you must be Henry,” she said, voice pitched like she was meeting royalty. “Gosh, he’s even cuter than he is in the pictures.”

“This is his palace,” Oscar added, dropping his bag by the door. “He just lets us stay because we feed him.”

Us. We.

Francesca felt the words settle somewhere soft in her chest, warm and unfamiliar. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to it — the ease with which he spoke like this place belonged to both of them.

Chris chuckled and stepped further in. “Right then — do we get to sit down, or is this a standing-room-only sort of welcome?”

Francesca laughed, finally exhaling a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

“Come in,” she said, stepping aside, warmth blooming slowly in her chest. “We ordered enough Thai food to feed a small village.”

Nicole beamed. “Perfect.”

Oscar caught her eye, brushing her hand with his as everyone made to settle into the small space. “See? Told you they’d love you.”

She gave him a look, but couldn’t help smiling. “They’re not so bad,” she murmured, grinning as she watched Hattie try to pick a nervous Henry up.

Chris grunted as he sank into the couch, only to immediately shift and reach behind him with a puzzled look. He pulled out a small ball of tangled yarn and a pair of knitting needles. “Oh. Do you knit, Francesca?”

Francesca froze, blinking at him like a deer caught in headlights. “Um—”

Oscar, stood beside her, folded over with a wheeze of laughter, practically choking on it.

She glared at him.

Chris looked confused.

Nicole just watched them, a serene smile on her face.

And Hattie… Hattie was still trying to convince Henry to let her hold him.

—

The kitchen was warm, golden-lit and quiet. The distant hum of laughter and murmured conversation came from the living room, where Oscar and Hattie were still squabbling over who got the last of the noodles.

Francesca stood in-front the sink, rinsing mugs and lining them up on the counter. She liked the rhythm of it — slow and grounding. She didn’t hear Nicole come in until the older woman leaned gently against the counter beside her.

“Can I help with anything, sweetheart?” Nicole asked softly, already reaching for a tea towel.

Francesca smiled and shook her head. “I’m good, I promise. Nearly done.”

Nicole didn’t move. Instead, she watched her for a moment, and then said, “Thank you again, for having us. I know it’s a lot — letting all of us into your space like this.”

Francesca shrugged, a little shyly. “I— Oscar’s always here, it only makes sense that you guys get to spend some time here too.”

Nicole’s eyes warmed. “Still. It’s a big thing, meeting everyone. You’ve been great.”

Francesca dried her hands and leaned back against the counter, suddenly a little fidgety under the praise. “I was very nervous,” she admitted. “I still kind of am.”

Nicole’s brow furrowed, gently. “Why?”

Francesca gave a half-laugh, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I don’t know. I guess I just… wanted to impress you.”

Nicole reached over, placing a hand over Francesca’s. “Oh, darling,” she said softly. “From the first time Oscar told me about you, I could hear it in his voice — how much you mean to him. You don’t ever have to be anything other than yourself to impress anyone, but especially us.”

Francesca blinked, throat tightening unexpectedly. “Really?”

“Of course,” Nicole said.

Francesca looked down, her cheeks pink, unsure what to say.

Nicole gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you. From what Oscar shared with me in those early weeks, and then seeing you now? You’ve come so far, honey.”

Francesca’s voice was barely more than a breath. “Thank you.”

Nicole smiled, warm and full of something steady. “Just make sure he’s eating enough vegetables and not leaving dirty socks everywhere, alright?”

Francesca let out a soft laugh, the lump in her throat loosening. “I can definitely try. The sock thing’s a losing battle though.”

Nicole nudged her shoulder with a conspiratorial grin. “That’s alright. He’s always been a bit hopeless. But he’s got a good heart. Always has.”

Francesca’s gaze dropped, her cheeks warm. “Yeah. I know.”

Nicole reached for a dish towel and tossed it over her shoulder with practiced ease. “Now come on. If we leave those three alone for too long, they might start to miss us.”

Oscar appeared in the doorway just as Nicole finished speaking, shoulder propped lazily against the frame, his hair a little mussed and his cheeks pink from laughing. He looked so at ease, so completely at home in this little corner of her world, that Francesca felt her heart catch in her chest.

“Too late,” he said, grinning. “I was about to launch a search party.”

Nicole rolled her eyes. “Always so dramatic.”

Francesca stared at him, utterly endeared by the chaos, by his easy warmth — by how he made this space, this life, feel so full. So safe. She didn’t move, even as he crossed the kitchen in a few strides and wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her into his chest like it was instinct. Like she belonged there.

“You good?” he murmured against her hair, his voice low, meant just for her.

She nodded. Pressed into him. Let herself just… exist in his orbit.

She leaned up a little as Nicole walked back through to the living room, whispering just under her breath, “I’m really glad they’re here.”

Oscar’s lips pressed against the top of her head with a lingering kiss. “Me too, baby.”

—

Chris didn’t cry when he unwrapped his scarf, embroidered with Oscar’s race number and their surname, but his eyes did get suspiciously shiny, and he hugged her for a solid two minutes afterwards.

—

A WEEK LATER

iMessage — Oscar & Francesca

Oscar

Okay I may or may not have gone a bit rogue

Francesca

?? explain pls

Oscar

I got us cinnamon buns the size of our heads

Also two kinds of cake because I couldn’t decide which one I wanted more

And the coffee place had your weird vanilla oat thing so I got two just in case you want one for later too

Francesca

aw baby ur the best bf ever

but like every time i roll over and you’re not there i lose a year off my life. i’m down to like. five.

hurry up and come back

Oscar

Back in 5

Don’t move

Or do move if Henry gets hungry

But otherwise stay cosy

I have carbs and caffeine and I love you.

Francesca

i wanna thank you with my mouth. not the talking kind.

Oscar

Aw. You’re so romantic baby.

—

They were in bed, a few days later, when she finally gathered enough nerve to bring it up.

The duvet was pulled up to her chin, her socked feet tucked beneath Oscar’s legs for warmth. The bedside lamp cast a soft, golden glow over the room, and outside the window, the sky was navy. It was quiet — Henry was snoring from his new tee-pee bed in the corner of the room. Oscar had bought it for him as an early Christmas present.

Francesca had been quiet for a while, absently scrolling on her phone, her fingers lingering too long on the same screen. Oscar had noticed — of course he had — but he didn’t press. Just waited.

Then, eventually, she said, “I told my mum I’d go home for Christmas.”

Oscar turned his head on the pillow, looking at her. “Yeah?”

She nodded, small and hesitant. “Yeah.”

There was a beat of silence, before he asked, in that same soft voice that made her stomach warm, “How do you feel about it?”

She looked down at her hands, thumbs pressing into each other. “I don’t know. Not good.”

He shifted beside her, the duvet rustling. “Talk to me, baby…”

“I’m scared,” she admitted, quietly, ashamed of the words. “The last time I was there, I was the worst version of myself. Hurting, hiding, constantly ashamed of myself.” She sniffled.

Oscar sat up and then reached beneath the duvet to grab her by the hips. With ease, he pulled her up and out of the sheets and onto his lap, letting her curl into his chest and holding her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

Her voice wobbled. “I’ve been trying not to think about it. I haven’t even booked flights yet. Every time I try, I feel like I can’t breathe.”

Oscar gave her hand a squeeze. “Then I’ll do it.”

She blinked over at him. “What?”

“I’ll book everything,” he said gently. “I’ll figure it out. We’ll fly out of Gatwick.”

Her brows furrowed, eyes going wide. “Osc, you don’t have to—”

“I’ll figure it out,” he repeated, more firm that time. “I know I don’t have to,” he said, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. “But why wouldn’t I, if it makes things easier for you? I know you can do it alone. That’s not why I’m offering. I just… want to be there to take care of you. That’s all.”

Francesca’s chest gave a quiet, aching sort of flutter. There was so much love packed into his words, steady and certain. And when she looked at him — really looked — she realised: this wasn’t just kindness. It was commitment. He’d said we’ll, without hesitation. Like it wasn’t even an option to let her go alone.

A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.

Oscar caught it with the pad of his thumb. “Hey.” He whispered.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, her voice catching. “I’m just… relieved. And so lucky to have you.”

“I’m the lucky one,” he said simply, kissing her forehead. “Always.”

Francesca let herself melt into him, burrowing into his chest as his arms came around her.

After a moment, he mumbled into her hair, “Now I just have to figure out which airline we should fly with. Because I’m not squeezing into a stupid EasyJet seat for five hours.”

She laughed into his shirt. “God, I love you.”

He hummed against her temple. “I know.”

—

The morning of the trip started early, still silent and black outside when Oscar’s phone alarm buzzed. Francesca had barely slept, despite Oscar’s arms wrapped around her all night, steady and grounding. Her stomach was tight twisted with anxiety, the familiar anticipation of pure fear already blooming in her chest.

But from the moment she opened her eyes, Oscar was calm. Unhurried. Kind.

He kissed her forehead. “Everything’s sorted, baby. All you have to do is get dressed and get in the car.”

And it was true — he’d done everything. Their bags were packed and ready by the door. Their passports tucked safely in the front pocket of his backpack. The car service was on its way. At the airport, he had everything already checked in. He handed her the boarding pass with her name on it like it was a love letter rather than a potential death sentence.

But it didn’t hit her fully until they were going through security — the long queue, the low hum of fluorescent lights, the crowd pressing too close, her backpack feeling too heavy and her hands too empty at the same time.

She felt the shift — the surge of static under her skin, the way the air suddenly felt too thin.

Oscar noticed immediately.

“Hey.” His voice was low, soft. Just for her. “You’re okay.”

She was shaking her head before he’d even finished the sentence.

Oscar stepped in front of her, shielding her slightly from the crowd. “Alright. Look at me.”

She did — barely.

“Remember what Dr. Kapoor said?” he murmured. “In for four.”

He held up his fingers, counting silently. She matched his breath, though it came shuddering at first.

“That’s it,” he said, nodding. “Hold for four.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. He counted again.

“And out for six.”

It took a few rounds. But eventually the tremble eased. Her hands relaxed where they’d clenched around the strap of her bag.

When she opened her eyes again, his were waiting for hers. Steady. Gentle. Proud.

“I’ve got you,” he said.

He always did.

When she blinked up at him in surprise as they stopped at the business class gate, he added gently, “There’s also a hotel booked for us near your parents’ place, so you can have space if you need it. I got a room with a giant bathtub.” Then he smirked, trying to cut through the tension winding tight around her shoulders. “Also, I hired a car. It’ll be at the airport when we land. Figured you’d be more comfortable with me driving than, you know, someone else.”

She stared at him, then narrowed her eyes, suspicion creeping in beneath the nerves. “What kind of car?”

“A nice one,” he said, bumping his shoulder gently into hers, like he wasn’t trying to soothe her — but he was. He always was. “Fast. Pretty. Might be orange.”

She chuckled in response and leaned into him fully, her entire weight settling against his side. It was early — painfully early — and despite the bustle of the airport, with the overhead lights too bright and the tannoy voice too loud and clipped, Oscar was like a shield between her and the world.

No one had recognised him yet, which felt almost miraculous. But it was before dawn, and he had his hood up, and Francesca was practically plastered to his side. He’d angled himself between her and everyone else as they queued, one hand low on her back. Steady.

Every echo bounced around her skull, every sharp noise chipped away at her carefully built calm. Her chest was tight, like her ribs were drawn in with string, and she hadn’t taken a deep breath since they left the flat.

She hated this part — the waiting. The shuffling forward. The lack of exits. Her fingers had long since curled into fists inside the pocket of her coat, nails digging crescents into her palms, and she didn’t even notice until Oscar gently untucked one hand and threaded his fingers through hers.

“Breathe,” he said softly, his thumb brushing hers. “You’re doing so good, ‘Cesca. Just hold on a bit longer.”

Her throat ached with how much she loved him for that — the complete lack of frustration when she was like this. When she was small and quiet and too overwhelmed to mask it in any sort of way.

“I hate this,” she whispered, her voice raw with shame she couldn’t fully hide.

“I know,” he said, like it wasn’t a problem. Like it was just a fact.

She blinked hard, swallowing the lump forming thick in her throat.

“You really got an orange car?” She asked, with a hint of disgust in her wobbly voice.

Oscar smiled down at her, soft and utterly besotted. “Yep. It’s so flashy. Your mum will absolutely hate it.”

A breath of laughter slipped out of her, shaky but real. It loosened something in her chest.

And Oscar kissed the top of her head. “That’s my girl.”

—

iMessage — Katie & Francesca

Katie

Your son misses you but he is being spoiled rotten by his godmother

*insert picture of Henry asleep in Katie’s bathtub*

Francesca

stop. i miss him so much already

my shaylaaaaaaaa

Katie

He’s a big fan of my new curtains

They’re very climbable apparently 😃

Franceca

omg

if he tears them down i’ll pms

Katie

They cost me a lot of money Francesca

Francesca

henry has no morals, money doesn’t matter to him

he chewed up oscar’s 5k sunglasses the other day

it was hilarious

Katie

Why does your bf own 5k sunglasses?

Francesca

he doesn’t anymore lmaooooo

—

The engine purred beneath them like it was alive — a low, silky rumble that vibrated through the soles of her shoes. Francesca sat in the passenger seat, her fingers curled around the edge of the leather seat, the window cracked open just enough to let in the Spanish air. It cut through the lingering hum of adrenaline in her chest.

The sports car — bright, loud, and so orange — gleamed obnoxiously in the afternoon light. It had turned every head in the car park.

Oscar glanced at her from the driver’s seat as they idled at a stop light, his hand resting palm-up on the console between them, waiting for hers. “You did so good today,” he said, sincere and soft.

Francesca looked at him. He had his sunglasses on, the ones he’d bought at the airport out of necessity, thanks to Henry. The way his mouth tilted was all affection — proud, reassuring. Safe.

She exhaled, the sound shaky. “Thanks,” she said. Then, after a beat, she added, “I feel like I might need to completely shut down. Like, physically curl into a ball and not speak again until tomorrow.”

Oscar nodded like that made perfect sense. “Then that’s what we do,” he said simply. “Shut down protocol activated. We’ll go straight to the hotel now, yeah? I’ll run you a bath, order room service, give you your big headphones, and we won’t even think about the outside world until tomorrow.”

The words wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She didn’t have to pretend. Didn’t have to force a smile or hold a conversation when all she wanted was to disappear for a bit and let her nervous system recalibrate.

“You sure you don’t mind?” she asked, voice small.

He glanced at her again, reaching over to squeeze her thigh. “Baby. You’ve been holding yourself together since we left the flat. You don’t have to prove anything to me. You’ve already done the hard part — you got on the plane. You landed. You’re here.”

She let out a laugh that was more breath than sound. “I’m not sure how I managed to do it.”

“You just did,” Oscar said.

The light turned green. He eased them forward, smooth and unbothered, like they had all the time in the world. The car glided, fast and controlled — a strange, soothing contrast to the chaos inside her.

Francesca let herself sag back into the seat, exhaustion settling in like fog. Her fingers brushed over Oscar’s where they rested beside the gear shift, warm and steady. “I’ll text my mum,” she murmured. “Tell her I’ll see her tomorrow instead.”

Oscar glanced at her, eyes soft beneath the shadow of his lashes. “She still doesn’t know I’m coming, does she?”

“I told her I was bringing my boyfriend,” she said with a wry smile. “She thought I was joking.”

He laughed lowly, giving her hand a squeeze. “I’ll be a surprise then.”

“A big one.” She hummed.

—

The hotel room was dim and quiet, lit only by the pinkish glow of the evening light and the television flickering on the wall. Francesca was curled up on the bed in one of Oscar’s shirts, her legs stretched across his lap as he absentmindedly rubbed her calf beneath the blanket.

Her phone buzzed against the duvet.

She ignored it once. Twice. But the third time, she sighed and grabbed it.

—

iMessage — Izzy & Francesca

Izzy

Seriously? A hotel? You’re literally ten minutes away from the house.

You’re so ridiculous.

Mum thinks so too, btw

—

Francesca’s stomach twisted. She swallowed hard and set the phone face-down, trying to push the sudden weight in her chest back down.

Oscar felt the shift in her immediately. He tapped her leg gently. “Hey. What was that?”

“Nothing,” she said too quickly. “Just Izzy being... Izzy.”

He reached across and plucked the phone from the duvet before she could protest, flipping it over and reading the messages. His jaw tightened slightly.

“She texted you that?” he asked, tone flat.

Francesca didn’t answer — just looked at him, unsure what to say.

Oscar exhaled slowly. “I’m not sure whether I’m going to like her.”

Her lips twitched in a smile. “Yeah, well. She’s not exactly an easy sell.”

He tossed the phone back down and refocused on her. “You don’t have to defend any of this, okay? Wanting space. Setting boundaries. You’re an adult.”

She nodded, but her throat was too tight to speak.

Oscar leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her knee.

Francesca blinked at him, then crawled into his lap fully, curling into the warmth of him like he was the only place on earth she felt safe.

“You’re kind of perfect, you know that?” she whispered into his shoulder.

He smiled against her hair. “Only for you.”

—

The hotel bathroom was steamy, dimly lit, quiet but for the gentle hum of running water and the soft slosh as Francesca shifted back against Oscar’s chest.

He had his arms around her, legs bracketing hers beneath the bubbles, and she was half-asleep with how warm and safe she felt. Her damp hair clung to the curve of her neck and his lips followed it there, pressing lazy kisses into her skin like he had nowhere else to be — like he’d never want to be anywhere else.

“You good?” he murmured against her shoulder, voice low and sleepy.

She nodded, hand finding his beneath the water. “Mhm. This helps.”

He smiled against her skin, tightening his arm a little. “Good. You did so well today.”

Francesca sighed, the kind that came from somewhere deep in her chest. “I don’t feel like I did.”

Oscar nudged his nose into her hair. “Doesn’t change the fact that you did.”

She turned just slightly, enough to see him, cheeks pink from the heat and eyes heavy-lidded with the same tenderness she felt blooming in her chest.

“You always say that.”

“That’s because I always mean it,” he said simply. “And also because you’re naked and wet and sitting in my lap and it’s extremely… nice.”

A laugh broke out of her before she could stop it — breathless and disbelieving and adoring. “I knew this was a trap.”

“Hey,” he protested softly, grinning now, “I’m being very respectful. For now.”

She shifted again, slow and languid, and tilted her head just enough to kiss him — long and sleepy and close. His hand slid up her arm, water dripping down her shoulder, and when he kissed her back, it was with a kind of quiet worship that said more than words ever could.

She let herself sink against him again, head tucked into the space beneath his jaw, their hearts beating steady and warm beneath the surface of the water.

Slowly, his hand skimmed down her side, slow and deliberate, fingers trailing like he was savouring every inch of her. When he reached the inside of her thigh, he paused, thumb brushing lazy circles on soft skin, peering down at her with hooded, burning eyes.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, his lips ghosting against her collarbone. “Baby.”

“You,” she breathed. “Always you.”

That made something flicker in him — something reverent. He kissed her then, deeper, more possessive, like he couldn’t help himself. His hand moved again, higher this time, between her legs, gentle but assured.

She gasped into his mouth as his fingers slipped against her — teasing, exploring, learning. Her hips jerked, but he held her steady, murmuring soft praise against her cheek as he worked her open.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he said, coaxing. “Just let go for me.”

And she did.

So beautifully.

—

The house hadn’t changed.

Same red bricks, same Christmas wreaths hung on the windows, same too-tight smile on her mother’s face when she answered the door. Francesca stood half behind Oscar, already regretting everything, but it was too late now — her sister was storming into the hallway behind their mum, eyes widening when they landed on him.

“Oh my god,” she said, and it wasn’t subtle. “You’re Oscar Piastri.”

Her mum blinked. “I’m sorry, who?”

Oscar smiled, polite and calm. “Hi, I’m Oscar. Francesca’s boyfriend.”

That made her dad glance up from where he was reading something at the dining table, just inside the house. “Boyfriend?”

“I told you I was bringing someone,” Francesca said, her voice smaller than she meant it to be.

Her sister gave a bark of laughter. “You didn’t say you were bringing him. Like, fucking Oscar Piastri. Jesus.”

“Mum thought I was joking,” Francesca said, attempting levity, but it didn’t quite land.

Her mother’s eyes swept over Oscar like she didn’t believe he was real. “Well. You’ve never brought a boyfriend home before.”

Oscar laced his fingers with hers, thumb brushing along the side of her hand.

Her sister rolled her eyes, sharp and narrowed as she looked between Francesca and Oscar. “How did you two even happen?” she asked, the words coated in a thin, scoffing laugh.

Francesca didn’t answer.

She didn’t even flinch.

Instead, she felt herself start to slip — quiet and practiced — into that small, familiar corner of her mind she’d built a long time ago. A place made for moments like this, when it was safer to fold in on herself than push back. When it was easier to go quiet than let the words catch in her throat.

“Bloody hell,” her dad muttered, eyes fixed just over their shoulders. “That’s a lovely car.”

Francesca didn’t need to turn around to know he meant the Ferrari parked at the curb, sleek and ridiculous in its McLaren-orange glory.

Her mum glanced at it and immediately wrinkled her nose. “Gaudy,” she said, as if the word had a bad taste.

—

Later, at lunch, the table was crowded with mismatched dishes and clattering silverware. Francesca picked at a slice of bread, her appetite dulled by the tension sitting heavy in her chest.

“I mean,” her mum said, cutting her food, “it’s lovely to see you like this. Smiling. You must be doing so much better now, with the boyfriend and everything.”

Oscar paused mid-chew. Francesca didn’t move at all.

Her mum went on, cutting into her salad with a little too much force. “It’s almost like magic, really. A famous boyfriend and poof — all that silly anxiety, just gone.”

The words hung heavy in the air, clinking harder than cutlery.

Francesca’s stomach tightened, but she didn’t look up.

Her sister laughed — sharp, high-pitched, and cruel. “Mum, I’ve been trying to tell you for years. It’s all for show. Attention. It’s the only reason people care about her online, too — they think she’s fragile. It’s ridiculous. She’s clearly doing just fine.”

Francesca swallowed hard. Her vision prickled at the edges.

Oscar set his fork down slowly. “‘Cesca,” he said, his voice gentle but direct, “do you want to leave?”

Her hands had curled into her lap. They were sore. She hadn’t even realised that she’d started doing it, pinching and twisting at her own skin. She didn’t look at him, but she nodded.

He pushed his chair back, scraping against the floor. “Okay,” he said, standing. “Let’s go.”

There was stunned silence.

Oscar didn’t let it hang in the air. He turned to her parents, calm but firm, his voice low and unwavering. “You have no idea how hard this is for her.”

“Oh, Oscar, darling—” Francesca’s mum started, her tone already turning frantic.

Her dad stared at his plate, suddenly very interested in his untouched food.

Her mum pressed her lips together, eyes flicking from Francesca to Oscar and back again, something uncertain flickering behind her defensiveness.

Her sister, however, didn’t flinch. She stared at Oscar like she was trying to figure out how best to wound him — something cold and mean curling behind her narrowed eyes.

Francesca blinked quickly, fighting back the sting behind her eyes as Oscar stood, helping her into her coat with practiced care. He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t make a scene — he just… said exactly what needed to be said.

There were no more words spoken.

Just the soft scrape of the front door opening and then clicking shut.

And then they were gone.

—

The car was silent for a while, save for the low hum of the engine and the distant rush of the road beneath them. Francesca stared out the window, the world blurring past.

“I probably made it worse. By leaving like that,” she whispered eventually.

“You didn’t,” Oscar said, eyes steady on the road.

She let her head fall back against the seat. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere quiet,” he said. “You need to breathe.”

When the coastline came into view, she nearly cried again — salt air and the sound of gulls overhead, a long stretch of sand just beyond the dunes.

Oscar parked, turned to her, and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Let’s just sit for a while,” he said. “Yeah?”

Francesca didn’t say anything. She just nodded, already climbing into his lap the moment the engine turned off, curling into his chest like it was where she belonged.

The safest place in the world.

—

Back at the hotel, the door had barely shut behind them when Francesca pressed her face into Oscar’s chest. She was quiet for a long time, just letting herself feel him — solid, warm, here. His arms came around her without hesitation.

“Your family made me feel more loved in a few days,” she murmured, voice muffled against his hoodie, “than mine ever have. Isn’t that so messed up?”

Oscar exhaled slowly, resting his chin on the top of her head. “It’s just… their loss.”

She tilted her head back to look at him. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you today.”

“You’ll never have to find out.” His voice was soft, but the promise in it was solid.

Her eyes shimmered. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

Oscar’s thumb brushed gently across her cheek. “One day,” he said, tone suddenly light, teasing at the edges, “you’ll be a Piastri, and you won’t just have my family — you’ll be my family.”

She blinked, startled, then laughed, even as her throat caught. “Are you proposing right now?”

“Absolutely not.” He shook his head. “Not while you’re wearing socks with cats on them.”

“They’re Henry socks,” she protested. “You were the one who got them for me.”

“I know. I still think they’re hideous.” His grin tugged at one side, but then softened into something gentler, more sincere. “Just saying… you’ve got me. And my family. For good.”

She leaned in, brushing her lips against his jaw, the affection in her chest rising up like a tide.

Then she nipped at his skin, not hard, but firm enough to make him flinch.

He winced with a half-laugh. “Babe…”

“Sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. “Thinking about being your wife made me feel a bit feral.”

—

iMessage — Oscar & Mark

Oscar

I’m going to marry her one day

Mark

You are both 22 years old

You’re fucking babies

Oscar

I said one day, not tomorrow

Maybe next week

Mark

Crikey.

—

Oscar leans against the counter, phone pressed to his ear. Through the open door, he can still hear Francesca’s soft, steady breathing from the bed — dead to the world after the long, emotionally exhausting day she’d just endured.

His mum picks up on the second ring. “Hey, sweetheart. Everything okay?”

Oscar exhales, scrubbing a hand through his curls. “Not really.”

There’s a pause, a shift in her tone. “What’s happened?”

“Francesca’s asleep,” he says quietly. “Finally. But… God, Mum. Her family. It was worse than I thought.”

Nicole is silent for a beat, letting him talk.

“They made all these little comments. Acted like— like they don’t know her at all.” He paces a little. “They talk over her. Around her. Like she’s not even in the bloody room. And she just— she shuts down. I watched it happen; right in front of me.”

Nicole sighs, low and full of something maternal and knowing. “Our poor girl.”

Oscar leans back against the sink, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She deserves so much better. They make her feel like she’s small. Like she’s in the way. I want to—” He breaks off, jaw clenched. “I want to protect her from all of it. I just don’t know where the line has to be, you know? They’re still her family, whether I like it or not.”

Nicole doesn’t speak immediately. When she does, her voice is gentle, firm. “You’re already doing it, Oscar. Protecting her.”

He swallows hard. “It doesn’t feel like I’m doing enough.”

“Well, she’s not alone now, is she?”

He shakes his head, more to himself than to her. “No. She’s not.”

There’s a soft pause. “Book some flights,” Nicole says simply.

Oscar stills. “What?”

“To come home,” she says. “Both of you. Bring her here. Let her rest. Let her breathe. You said she felt loved when she was with us — so let’s give her some more of that at a time of the year when everyone deserves to be surrounded by it. Show her what home is supposed to feel like.”

His heart aches with warmth for his mum, even as he hesitates, thinking about the logistics, wondering if Francesca would even be ready for that kind of leap. “You don’t mind?”

Nicole scoffs, like the question itself is absurd. “Darling, I bought her a beach cover-up for Christmas. It’s wrapped and under the tree. I was counting on you bringing her here.”

Oscar grins, the weight in his chest easing just slightly. “You’re the best.”

“I know,” she teases. “Now go get some sleep. And tell her we can’t wait to see her again.”

Oscar hangs up a minute later, slipping quietly back into bed. Francesca stirs, curling instinctively into him as he slides under the covers. He kisses the top of her head, breathes in her raspberry scent, and lets himself drift.

CHAPTER SEVEN PT.2

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hattiewritesalot · 1 year ago

Text

Awake

Azriel x fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel is undeniably furious, especially considering the fact that Y/N has yet to wake up. But, when she does, what will become of their relationship?

Warnings: Vomiting, mentions of Az wanting to kill people for his bbg, very fluffy. Bit of hurt/comfort for both Azriel and Y/N

A/N: Here is part two of Poison (which, btw, thank u for all the support I've been getting on it 😭). feel free to send in requests for acotar bc I'm bored<3

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

Azriel doesn’t think he’s ever been angrier in his entire life.

He’s supposed to stay calm and collected, every inch the mysterious spymaster, but not even the strongest sedative could settle the rage brewing in his chest. His shadows curl menacingly around his limbs, the black essence seeming to share his fury.

Rhysand sighs, rubbing his temples. Feyre stands behind him, probably to offer some form of comfort. They both adore Y/N. They’ve practically adopted her with how much they coddle and coo at her, despite her loud laughter and complaints whenever they do.

Cauldron, what Azriel wouldn't do to hear that laugh right now.

It’s been three days. Y/N is not awake. His mate is not awake.

Rhysand finally looks up at Azriel. “We’ve got answers, at least.” Before Azriel can interrupt, he keeps talking. “Beron has admitted to poisoning Y/N. He figured that if he targeted her, we’d crumble. Not because she’s the strongest, but because she’s the most… beloved, daresay. He didn’t think we’d hit back, and he thought he’d be able to crush us with this crack in our defences.”

Azriel’s scarred knuckles are alabaster from how hard he’s gripping the arms of his chair. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would he just admit it?” The High Lord of Night takes a deep breath.

“He found it funny.” The noise that tears from Azriel’s throat is completely inhumane, and completely unlike him. He storms to the door, but Cassian’s strong arms hold him back, urging him to stay calm, urging him to breathe. He can’t. He’s gone past being angry, and he’s gone past blaming it on the new mating bond.

Y/N is his best friend. He’d die and kill for her, he’d steal the moon and stars if it meant she’d be happy. The Mother’s bond can go and fuck itself, because the one he’s already got with Y/N will always be stronger.

“I’ve arranged a meeting with Eris Vanserra.” Rhys’ firm voice cuts through the haze of rage. “He says he has plans, and that this event has solidified his desires. I may be unable to tell you what comes of the meeting, but I guarantee that Beron will suffer for what he did to Y/N.”

Mate. Awake. He almost doesn’t realise what his shadows are whispering to him. Awake. Eyes open. Vomit. GO. He chokes, and desperately tries to break free of Cassian's grip. He needs to see her. He needs her to be okay. “Az, Rhys just said-”

“I know what he just said!” Azriel hates the way his voice is more of a sob. “She’s awake- she’s- please, let me go to her!”

A shadowsinger shouldn’t beg. He shouldn’t grovel. He should attack.

But he doesn’t, because he knows that Y/N is far more important than any conflict he could have with Cassian right now.

And, besides, Cassian lets him go. He’s never run so fast in his life. His feet are barely on the ground, legs and shadows and wings working in tandem to get him there as soon as possible. He thinks he might be the one vomiting in a minute.

Rhys groans. “I know they’re close, but he’s going to drive me insane before I even have this meeting.”

But Feyre, ever the observant High Lady, stares at his retreating form, hand squeezing Rhys’ shoulder. “Give him time. I’m sure he’ll cool off, when he knows she’s safe.” A small smile quirks up at the corners of her lips, knowing exactly why Azriel is so worked up.

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

His chest heaves as he pushes the door open, but then it’s filled with warmth. Alive. She’s alive, and upright, and very visibly pissed off but it’s okay because she’s alive.

“The one time I drink something that isn’t champagne-” she croaks out. “-and it turns out to be fucking poisoned. If that’s not my luck I don’t know what is.”

Azriel can’t control the desperate sob that bursts from his lips as he clambers onto the bed, pulling her into his chest. She’s sweaty, and feverish, and she’s just puked into the bucket next to the bed, but he’ll be damned if he cares. She’s alive. He buries his face in her hair, arms and wings squeezing her so tightly it makes her squeak.

“Alright big guy, I’ve just been sick, let’s not try and go for round two.” Her tone is teasing, joking, but the moment he pulls away, her face falls. “Az…” she murmurs, moving her fingers up to wipe his tears. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” he spits, sobbing again. “What’s wrong!? You were fucking poisoned! You’ve been puking and coughing and writhing and screaming ever since you got here, and you’ve been out for three days. Three whole days- where- I didn’t know if you were dead, I didn’t know if you-”

“Az.” her tone is a bit firmer now, thumbs pressing against his lips. “I’m okay. I’m gonna be okay. I’m here, I’m breathing, and I’m going to be fine. Breathe.”

He heaves a deep breath, clutching her so tightly his fingers make indents on her skin. If she notices, she doesn’t care. “You’re… okay.”

“I’m okay.” She smiles. Her lips are cracked and slightly discoloured, but he’s missed her little smile so fucking much. “Come on, Az, you know me. Tough as nails.” She flexes her arms, and Azriel snorts.

“There’s nothing there. You should really stop skipping training.” “No! You’re always a dick to me in training!”

“Yes, because Cassian’s about as mean as a wet sponge, and it isn’t potty training, it’s battle tactics.” She scoffs. “Whatever, whatever.” And he grins, and hugs her again, trying to engrave the memory of her wrapped up in his arms into his brain, just to keep there forever. “Azriel?” He hums in response. “I- so, you know a couple days back? When... this... happened, and I was just about to fall asleep?” She swallows. “I think I felt something… snap.”

His heart pounds in his chest. “The bond? You felt it too?”

“Uh- yeah.” She looks up at him, big eyes blinking up at him like a doe, her face so sweet he wants to coo. “Are you disappointed? That it’s me?”

That makes Azriel frown. How could he be disappointed? She’s everything and more, anyone can see that. Even if he pushes aside the fact that she’s drop-dead gorgeous, she’s got a brain to match it. She’s quick and clever and sassy in a way that rivals even his own spunk. If anything, she should be the disappointed one.

“No.” he says, brows furrowing. “Y/N, sweetheart, you mean the world to me. How could I be disappointed?” He wants to catch all of the butterflies in his stomach and lock them away forever, because they're making him woozy. “Are- are you?”

“Am I?” her tone is confused, almost shocked. “Az- Az, I’ve been into you for, like, forever. I’m not disappointed. I could never be disappointed, not with you.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, blinking, suddenly coming to terms with the fact that this bond has, for lack of better wording, startled them. They’ve always prioritised everyone else over them, always considered others' needs and benefits above their own, but they’ve never had the chance to fully acknowledge themselves. Maybe that’s what made them so alike. Maybe that’s why the Mother paired them together, knowing that amidst the sarcastic comments and teasing touches, the sturdy roots of their relationship came from their unwavering trust and care for one another.

Azriel’s hand moves to Y/N’s clammy forehead, softly pushing the hair away from her face. Despite everything that’s happened in the last few days, she’s still her, and he’s still him. Nothing is ever going to change that.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispers. She rolls her eyes. “I’ve got a raging fever, I’m drenched in my own sweat, I just threw up and you’re calling me beautiful?”

He laughs, oh, by the Cauldron, he laughs. “You could be a corpse and you’d still be the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“That’s necrophilia, Az. Pretty sure that’s illegal.”

“You’re hilarious, sweetheart.”

“Is that why you fell in love with me?”

“Okay, who’s saying I’m in love with you?”

“Me.” and she grins, nudging her nose against his. “Because I am not only hilarious, but also very observant.” He lets out a little hum in response, scarred fingers still twisting in her hair. Everything’s perfect, because they’re not. Their imperfections are intertwined, just like their souls, and the knowledge the other will always be there to love them is all they've ever wanted.

Azriel’s eyes flit down to her lips, and then he’s leaning in, and she’s doing the same, and-

She pulls away, wincing. “I puked about five minutes ago. I don’t think you want to kiss me right now.”

He rolls his eyes, tipping her chin up. “Y/N L/N, I have waited at least two centuries for the opportunity to kiss you. Don’t stop me now.” And he presses his lips to hers. It’s gentle, soft, sweet. Everything he feels around this girl.

“You’re gross.” She mumbles.

“That’s what love does to you.”

“And you’re a sap.” She grins. “I suppose you’re lucky I love you, even if you are going soft for me.”

“Shut up, sweetheart.”

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

@topaz125 @starryhiraeth @nahminae @quiettuba @thecraziestcrayon @honeywithemoney @marvelsmylife @sunny1616 @lilah-asteria @emryb @i-am-infinite @st4r-girl-official

my loves ty for ur support! :)

#fluffy az does something to me #but angry az willing to murder for r is even better #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #acotar

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badly-drawn-doflamingo · 6 months ago

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Brook’s Past, Military and Everything Between [ An Essay kinda ]

Brook’s past is not a thing many people seem to mention or think about, at least in full, however it’s something that's plagued me. Not only as a Brook fan, but simply out of the odd implications it has towards the future, if any. Oda’s planted too many seeds for it to utterly be nothing; there’s so much odd and seemingly out of place comments and facts stated by Brook and others towards this missing history. However, knowing that the show is beginning to near it’s end, due to time, I am unsure of what exactly will be done.

I believe however, for folks' interest and so we can have everything in one place, that compiling everything found so far can be beneficial, so, I have.

Starting with what we know for sure, Brook is from the West Blue, born 90 years ago to a certain kingdom, the same kingdom he was a military convoy leader from. We know this due to a few factors, however it’s still open to debate if it *is* the same kingdom, however seeing as he was shown as a child to already know what fencing is, practicing moves with his bow, I am just going to say he probably was. In any case, other things worth noting, on the topic of childhood, is that Brook seems to have had money. At least, stability.

Compared to a lot of the other strawhats, Brook is shown dressing very nice. No tatters, no tears, shined shoes and a full violin and bow. He also, as already stated, seemed to be exposed to fencing enough to mirror the moves. If this comes from his kingdom, it means he was exposed to it at a young age. Knowing that he was a military convoy leader, this could be taken that perhaps there were military demonstrations, perhaps the kid saw castle guard or other displays; it’s really up in the air.

We know Brook, again as stated before, became a military convoy leader. Now, the definition of what exactly that means can differ.

Wikipedia states; A convoy is a group of vehicles, typically motor vehicles or ships, traveling together for mutual support and protection. Often, a convoy is organized with armed defensive support and can help maintain cohesion within a unit. It may also be used in a non-military sense, for example when driving through remote areas.

This could mean Brook’s job could’ve been accompanying ships for protection, being a knight for his King, mediating information and goods that come in and out of the kingdom. This would make sense on why his speed was needed, a 9.2 ft man being a great choice for a leader.

His weapon also would make sense for this kind of mission, perhaps secrecy being important or at least the ability to be discreet. His cane sword, a ‘Shikomizue’, is not unique however to just him in the show, one other man using one that has been confirmed so far, that being Fujitora. The pair also share a sea, the west, and both utilize iaijutsu (quick draw techniques.) Fujitora blinded himself with said sword because of something apparently so cruel and inhumane that he rather not see anguish. This may be related to Brook’s departure from his kingdom, which is addressed later in this essay. (Fig 3-5.)

Another thing that’s worth mentioning here is Brook’s attack patterns, being unique even for his kingdom apparently. Once again, during the Ryuma fight, Brook states, and I quote;

“Ryuma: “Now tell me, what part of that wretched excuse for a body would you like me to severe with my special ‘Arrow Notch Slash?’ Brook: You don’t know a thing about that move, so do not use it’s name. I use to serve in my kingdom’s raider squad. The quick draw attack that I was most skilled at was ‘Requiem Lebanderole’. My comrades-in-arms renamed it in regards to my fighting technique.”

(Fig. 1, Brook explains his raider squad and move names. A banderole mind you is a long flag for BATTLE crusades. )

This sets up a few interesting facts. 1. Brook was in a raider squad, a kingdom’s group of marauders, as well as if not the same job as convoy leader.

2. His techniques were unique to him, or at least specialized to a degree of having a nickname. 3. As expected, he seems to have been close to these men he commanded, adding another layer over Brook loosing the Rumbars.

Being in both a raider squad and being a convoy leader at one point, if not the same point, implies either Brook was simply versatile, acting in both in separate years or periods. Or, the most likely, that he was higher ranking than expected, making him a CO, or commanding officer. (Lieutenant Colonel is another equal rank for scale, making Brook just below a Major.) This makes him quite the important figure, especially for a kingdom that seems to value its military so much, so much so that a child of Brook’s age would already know about their style of fencing, as expressed already. Brook’s devil fruit is worth mentioning here, the revive-revive fruit not likely to be found by a crew like the Rumbars. It is spoken about as if he has always had it amongst the crew, being a fact of life. However, when did he get that fruit and why? I propose where it would be useful; in combat. If your military convoy leader, your best swordsman could be shot and come right back to protect the king, would he not be utterly invaluable? You would never let him leave… But he DID leave. It’s not said why, however we have some extra tidbits of information that may tell us why, and that ALSO may tell us the answer to what kingdom he means.

( Fig. 2. Brook states his leaving of the military for unknown reasoning, the word certain being used in an odd way, establishing his bounty.) This bounty mind you all is in fact, using inflation method, 297,000,000 berries. That is a MASSIVE bounty for just a pirate. Perhaps a certain blond stole a treasure a kingdom could not replace; their convoy leader. Lets rewind for a moment and cover something that may be seen as off topic however I will come right back to the subject at hand; Calico Yorki. Yorki is an odd bird, pirate wise. He makes his crew read his bounties and information, is never shown to play an instrument/sing but makes his crew preform/they all do, and makes Brook make him dinner. (Steak, and Brook continues to be able to make it as confirmed by an SBS.) What is oddest yet, other than his large crew and shirtless habits, is his nature. A man that set to sea to play music for “orphans and crying children” as stated by himself; a crew made for “any men who love music.” Now, I could be reading into this too hard, however from his speech patterns, to this apparent need for a large family, it seems that singing to orphans may be a very personal goal. An orphan turned pirate perhaps, with lofty dreams and a heart of gold, it reads to me that Yorki may have been just that. Knowing this, orphan or not, we now can compare these facts to Brook’s life up until their meeting. A child who probably grew up being taught to fight, being around access to education, expenses and the kingdom’s training. Why would a man like Brook ever join a man like Yorki, and if it’s only music, would that not make Brook a deserter? I do not think that is the case. I will now bring forward some interesting evidence regarding Brook’s kingdom and WHY he would leave. Germa 66. During Zou to Whole Cake, a few mentions of Germa are made with Brook around, garnering interesting reactions indeed.

( Fig. 3. Brook listens but chooses not to add anything utter than silence, his music pausing as well.) This silence could be take as simple ignorance, however Brook later admits he knows of the kingdom, in fact, he knows a lot. A lot more than anyone else did, Reiju admitting interest in his knowledge and once again, Brook brushes it off.

(Fig 4, 5, Brook speaks about Germa 66.) He seems to underplay or simply not elaborate a LOT on his kingdom, as if something happened. Perhaps joining Yorki was not out of simple cowardice or need to be free, (which again if he did would both reflect poorly upon his entire character and not be in character for him what so ever,) but in fact, out of necessity. It could have been Germa 66, it could have been some other grouping, however I believe this will come to be something important. The kingdom possibilities are interesting as well, and I will list the following LIKELY possibilities. (Other options are known to not be military, like Ohara, or literally places like Thriller Bark itself.) - Toroa - God Valley - Illsia Kingdom - Soja Kingdom The most likely candidates, because again, it is labeled as certain kingdom (Fig 2.) is Toroa or Soja, however I will personally lean into Toroa. This is because of a man by the named of Byron.

(Fig 6. Byron and his information.) His nose and face shape vaguely resemble Brook, however honestly that is a stretch. What is NOT however is his familiar attire, family line and the placement of his kingdom. This could easily be Brook’s home, however again, this is just speculation. Brook very well could belong to God’s Valley, or the same kingdom as Issoh, fleeing because of something he did not agree with or literally could not stand any longer. But, that falls under possibility, not fact. This concludes the facts section, now comes the final question; What does it mean for the story? And, honestly, that can be debated. What Oda has done is plant odd seeds of information about the man, similar to Sanji and his ties to Vinsmoke, that have not been addressed nor talked about in full, or so I’ve found sufficiently. These seeds MAY bloom into what I hope will be a tie into some huge reveal, perhaps aid from a past member of his convoy or kingdom, or perhaps this will only spark conflict. Perhaps it will be minute, Brook being able to aid due to his knowledge, the man already in Thriller Bark showing his prowess by being able to command the strawhats into defeating zombies via salt and tactic. In any case, we can only hope these things mean anything, tied into some huge story that could explain why a man like him would quit for a redneck like Yorki, other than perhaps love, and what kingdom would let a man like him go willingly.

Updates:

- Confirmation that he’s educated! Perhaps in military or just as a whole, but confirmation nonetheless!

- I realize the reason he’s so confident with Big Mom isn’t just guts; he’s fought for royalty before. He’s just back in the fucking building again /j

- Sabaody behaviors, a convoy leader

CHECK REBLOG FOR PART TWO!!

[ PLEASE ^^ It contains the rest of his information! ]

#essay writing #brook one piece #Brook #thriller bark #One piece #one piece writing #one piece thoughts #one piece discussion #scene analysis #character analysis

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the-flaneur · 6 months ago

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the enemy of my friend is my enemy, but he's also his own worst enemy? so he's my friend? (nr6) | pt3

pairing: nico rosberg x hamilton!reader [smau]

summary: in an attempt to plan a surprise birthday party for your brother's 39th birthday, you enlist the help of his ex-??? to get into his apartment

warnings: none (i think)

[prev] [masterlist] [requests]

-> twitter

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lewishamilton

liked by fencer, charles_leclerc, roscoelovescoco and others

lewishamilton Excited to be back home for New Year's. Here's to an amazing 2024!

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user1 LOOKING GOOD SIRRRRRR 😩😩😩

user2 i usually hate manspreading, but the way this man does it is sooooooo sexy user3 literalllyyyyy it's the see through shirt that does it for me though user4 can't wait to see him without his braids, they're the only thing that get me through the winter break 😭😭😭

user5 UGH HOW DOES MONACO HAVE SUCH GOOD WEATHER IN LIKE THE MIDDLE OF WINTER, BRO'S IN A SHORT SLEEVE SHIRT

fencer can't wait to see you brother 💪

user6 yooooo birthday bash hints??? user7 i mean his birthday is pretty soon....maybe we'll see another bro pic hahahaha

user8 happy new years eve from london ❤️

charles_leclerc when are you going to finally invite me out on a yacht trip ☹️

user9 LOL CHARLES ARENT U LITERALLY MONEGASQUE AND RICH - GET UR OWN YACHT 🤣🤣🤣 user10 bro just wants to hang out with the goat

user11 ya'll anyone else catch on y/n's absent comment??? girlie is usually on top with responding to her brother's posts...

user12 yk she doesn't always have to respond right, like she could just be with lewis, or you know...being her own person user13 lmfaooo so real @/user12 user14 but like she's not even given it a like? i wonder where she is... LIKED BY lewishamilton

user15 hopefully mercedes have their car back on track this year, we NEED to see this man win a race 🙌🙌🙌

user16 CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT INSTA POST!!! BIRTHDAY TIMEEEEEE

f1gossipofficial

liked by user17, user18, user19 and others

f1gossipofficial well well well it looks like an old romance may have been rekindled just before new years!

y/n hamilton and nico rosberg have been seen arguing in y/n's ferrari daytona sp3 in monaco, before engaging in a heated makeout session. are we going to see our first new (honorary) wag of 2024?

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user20 OH MY FUCKING GODDDDD 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

user20 WE ARE SO BACK GUYS

user21 HOLY SHIT MOTHER AND FATHER ARE BACK TOGETHER TRULY MY ROMAN EMPIRE

user22 someone gotta call the ambulance for lewis, he's about to get the biggest heart attack of his life

user23 cant believe their relationship has literally been strangers -> friends -> secret lovers -> enemies -> friends? -> lovers????

user24 that's why they're ICONS 💪💪💪 user25 istg if they go back to being enemies after all this crapshow they've put us through... user26 i think max would rather just shove them in a hotlap with him around spa and then lock them together in a room then face them being enemies again

user27 YA'LL ARE MISSING THE POINT AGAIN, THEY'VE PROBABLY BEEN TOGETHER SINCE BEFORE THE END OF THE YEAR

user28 RIGHTTTT 🤨 like are people seriously think they havent contacted each other before this lol user29 nah i think this is legit their first interaction in like eight years - welp didn't take them that long to get BACK together

user30 do you guys need a third??? asking for a friend

user31 bros are not subtle at all 😭 making out in such a recognisable car and city where everyone knows who tf they are 😭😭😭

user32 i forgot how good they look together 😍

user33 watch their kids be pretty as f too

user34 well looks like both hamiltons like rosberg, wonder if thats definitely not at all caused any arguments 😒

user35 well you defs werent around for the great hamilton twitter discourse of 2014... user36 oh yeah forgot about that user37 🤨 someone wanna tell me what that is?

user38 CANT WAIT FOR THEM TO ACTUALLY FINALLY POST EACH OTHER AFTER EIGHT YEARS

user39 i missed the anniversary posts so bad 😍 user40 their cute little dates healed something in me

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nubsdolls · 6 months ago

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SYPNOSIS ; g/n reader x sparring partner! bakugou, fluff, not proofread .. matching bracelets , enjoy ! xoxo, jord .ᐟ

A/N; this was supposed to be a lil drabble but this came out longer than i intended .. anywaayss. I PROOOMISEEE im gonna start posting more i’ve disappeared for sosososso long.. in the meanwhile take this, luv u guys !!!!!

sparring partner! bakugou that swears he only bugs you 24/7 to “get your ass to training grounds” because you need to improve. no other reason because of course, he cant stand you.. or anything about you, for that matter.

so no, it doesnt “mean” anything when sparring partner! bakugou comes up from behind you to, “fix” your form. adjusting you by signaling you to rotate to the side by giving your hips a little push, nudging your elbows up so your face is protected by your hands.

sparring partner! bakugou who always insists to be near you, discreetly, if he can. because he obviously doesnt want it to seem like he cares, because he doesnt. even during training or maybe even an attack on the school? near you. covering you and making sure warn you of the sneak attacks from behind you.

and even though you practically hate sparring with him, because hes so damn ruthless, ensuring a trip to recovery girl by the end of it, its weirdly the highlight of your days. hearing the ding! of your phone, followed by the usual message from him.

: training grounds. 5 mins

even when its five in the goddamn morning. you never fail to meet him there.

and after a small while of this cycle, you make the (probably) safe assumption you guys are, friends? acquaintances?..hell, maybe you were even on kirishima’s level of ‘friend’. toleratable? at the least.

so while on one of your free days afterschool, youre shopping with the bakusquad. mina, jirou, denki, sero, kirishima, and obviously, bakugou. god knows how they convinced him to tag along.. you get lost in a cute little merch store, spotting matching all might bracelets. ew, corny. who would even get those?

ca—ching! “aaand heres your change, have a nice day!”

you would.

though, you probably shouldve thought this out.. who were you gonna match with? ofcourse, it could always be mina, but she also didnt absolutely fixate on all might. but, there was, one person you had in mind..

and sometime in the week after the hangout, at the end of your—no less than brutal, training session, you tiredly brought it up.

“the other day—while we were at the mall, i saw these matching all might bracelets—“ pant, “i kinda just bought on it on sight, annnd i didnt really think of who to give the other half to before i did.. but i know you like him, so..”

you trail off, simply suggesting it as you move over to sit down on a bench, taking a drink of water, while also, pulling out the bracelets from your pockets and reaching your free hand up to show him.

sparring partner! bakugou scoffs upon seeing the bracelets in your hand. golden age and bronze age all might bracelets.

“thats stupid. im not wearing that shit.” he growls, crossing his arms. his voice a little panted from training. you were getting better. not that he would tell you that directly, of course.

“chill, dynamight.” you roll your eyes playfully, emphasizing his hero name on your tongue. “i was just suggesting it, if you dont want it its fine.” you explain casually. even if, the sentence did hurt your feelings a little.

“ill just give it to izuku.” you shrug, you guys were friends, pretty close if you did say so.

and you almost swear you saw bakugou’s eye twitch. a glint of, jealousy? in his eyes as you bring up the green haired boy’s name.

he lets out an amused huff, rolling his eyes. “tch. whatever, give it to that nerd. not like i care.” before he reaches down next to you for your water bottle, taking a swing, airsip.

setting the bottle back down next to your thigh, he speaks up again. “‘aight, hurry, we arent done. round two.” he adds harshly, motioning with his hand for you to get back up.

“come on. please? one more minute. its so eaarlyyy.” you whine, almost pouty as you throw your head back. still exhausted from the sparring just a few minutes ago. 6am and hes annoyingly productive.

“hurry or i can blast your ass right here.” he glares down at you, grumbling through gritted teeth.

“im getting uupp, geeez.” you groan, lazily getting up from the bench and almost coming up to meet his full height.

later in the day, during class training, you figure you should probably find izuku to give him the other matching half, one already on your wrist.

you couldve sworn you remembered putting it back onto your other wrist so you wouldnt lose it. maybe it was in your dorm instead? whatever, youd just have to give it to him tomorrow.

today, you were working in partners, testing out new possible moves, strengths, weaknesses, and overall just trying to improve on any weak spots.

and like always, sparring partner! bakugou was next to you. basically having claimed you as his designated partner for anything by now, glaring at anyone who even suggested you work with them and not him.

and as your throwing hits at him, trying to catch him off base with your quirk, you notice a glint coming from under his gauntlet, you pause a moment.

its the matching half of your bracelet, all might’s golden age bracelet.

he notices this. feeling his ears dust the slightest pink from, embarrassment? and he uses this moment of weakness to gain the upper hand, pinning you down on the floor.

and youre completely shocked by the sudden move. somehow flipped on your chest to the ground, arms tucked behind your back with his knee holding you down.

“stay focused.” he hisses, reprimanding you for your bad habit.

“thought you said it was stupid?” you mutter. tilting your head to the side ever so slightly to look at him. a sly, cheeky smirk on your face.

“it is.”

maybe it wasnt so stupid after all.

#bakugou katsuki #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #my hero academia #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha #fluff #bnha x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki fluff #gender neutral reader #boku no hero academia #mha drabbles

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cryptidmickle · 4 months ago

Note

hi your amnesiac au has me in SHAMBLES plsplspls im crying sobbing stabbing the floor

im so glad i discovered your blog 😭 your art is so lovely and nice and just. Yes. eats everythibg snd leaves no crumbs /silly

PLEASE i require more info about amnesiac au.

could this happen to the other Beasts? if it can happen to Shadow Milk, it might be possible with the others, should their Ancient counterparts get lucky with their attacks

does Shadow Milk gradually become less of an ass? does he seek answers as to Why he was so awful? does he care at all?

how horrified is he at the revelation that he was such a huge issue for the faeries + PV, if at all? he already doesn't know much about himself, so would not knowing he was such a problem, such an awful person, terrify him, considering he doesn't remember any of this?

idk. i personally would be so so incredibly horrified and terrified that i was so terrible and..well, monstrous, if i may. i kinda project onto Shadow Milk im ngl so that's probably why im saying any of this

IM SORRY THIS IS SO LONG im just so,,, AAAUAGTHYBHLRHTLBFLTTKG /POS abt this entire au. hoenstly it inspires me; both your art and your ideas and concepts

hope you have a good day!! stay safe /gen

SOBS IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE THIS AU!!! i read all the tags on my posts btw so if any of u went crazy in there i saw it and went crazy w u. im deranged and mentally ill if u cant tell.

i would say the cracking of the souljam and loss of power is very possible for the other beasts! the amnesia however is a Very special case of pure vanilla fucking up the spell he cast

the other beasts would be depowered and much weaker, but retain their memories...... actually, would their corruption break as well since the souljam disconnected entirely from them? hm, i think redemption would be more possible if an ancient got a lucky shot, in that case

shadow milk does in fact become less of a jerk! what with no longer being secluded in a spire losing his mind and sense of identity all by himself, his personality is forced to become. eh. LESS THORNY.

pure vanilla is socializing him like a dog and he is NOT enjoying it. but i am. put that guy in situations.

shadow milk does in fact seek answers to why he did so many terrible things! he knows his... current personality isn't the greatest, but he can't imagine doing some of the things described

he feels a certain disconnect to the him others describe terrorizing them to the him of present, while he feels bad for what happened to them he doesn't really feel apologetic because was it really him? how's he supposed to know?

should he feel sorry because it technically was him, just.. evil? would that excuse it if he doesn't feel sorry at all?

this is where shadow milk and white lily have similar dilemmas because they both have previously done terrible things to others, especially pure vanilla. they feel bad about it, they dont wanna hurt him or others like that ever again

but then this is where they separate because shadow milk doesn't feel at fault, he doesn't remember doing all those things, he doesn't even know who that was! you want me to grovel forever about it? pathetic, what's done is done anyways, why not try to do something now?

white lily absolutely despises that mindset as she's competing with pv over who can hate themselves more, and she is winning. she thinks they both deserve to repent forever for their crimes but is constantly reminded of the fact that she remembers but shadow milk doesn't! she knows what she did, why she did it, it was bad and terrible, but she understands and that's what's important and she must repent for it

shadow milk doesn't know, he doesn't know anything at all and theres even more that they can't tell him as he's apparently been evil for centuries. it's hard to argue that he needs to feel bad when the personalities are truly separated.

......i went on a ramble again.

he doesn't feel bad about what he did but he is in fact, very unnerved that he may be capable of those actions again, and with pure vanilla trying to teach him to be good and kind its...... panic inducing sometimes, that maybe he can do something terrible again, that the evil is possibly just lurking under the surface and hes fooling himself and everyone around him

#milkyflock #amnesiac au #shadow milk cookie #im not tagging all the cookies mentioned thats too much dear lord #i went offfff oh im so crazy guys u dont get ut #im so inactive artwise but i swear im thinking hard abt this au at any given moment #words are also difficult. and im scared of people. and i forget.#oh no #okay anyone in my tags reading this gets to know my super secret answer to milkyflocks q in the tags of another post #PURE VANILLAS MOTIVATIONS HEH #he helped smilk out of guilt ofc. he attacked him and as the jesus cookie he must make up for it with his savior complex #but in a little thing i wrote hehe...... theres something under the surface of that want to help #to see smilk so vulnerable. eyes so clear of his usual mischief and plotting and Distance...#wasnt that fount of knowledge so much like him? wasnt the holder of knowledge just like him before everything?#he wanted to know shadow milk so badly...#is it so wrong to keep him?#ask

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jojosbingsu · 8 months ago

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When &Team Members Are Your Boyfriend

Admin: Ellie

Genre: Fluff, Wholesome | NO Smut, NSFW. | Minors can interact.

Pairing: gn!reader x Teamies (OT9)

Word Count: 3.04K

Notes: If you would like to request something, please find your way onto the blog to make your request~! Feedback is always welcomed. ^u^

EJ 🍊

He's terrible at flirting because he always gets flustered when you flirt back, but he tries his best. His intentions are always good but he usually flirts through saying something you'd hear in a cliche rom-com film.

He's always a giggly mess whenever you're complimenting him. Teasing him is an incredibly easy thing to do and he will fall into it every single time. He becomes a blushy, giggly mess that tries to hide his bright red face away from you.

He buys you expensive gifts as his way to show love and admiration for you. Jewelry seems to be his favorite gift form and he always circles back around to it whenever he feels like you deserve a nice little treat from him. Whenever you wear a necklace or pair of earrings he's bought for you, he will just grin lovingly and say something like "I knew it would look stunning on you!"

LOOOOOVES kiss attacks. If you don't want your face smooched to the end of time, you've better get to hiding it! Euijoo loves to place pecks all over your cheeks and forehead when you're laying in bed together or whenever you're trying to help him cook something. It's probably his favorite thing to do because he knows you'll rarely complain about it. Bonus: Do it to him and watch him absolutely beam with joy and affection. He is the actual embodiment of the word "happiness."

Probably the most comforting boyfriend someone could ever ask for. He's very communicative about his feelings and always open to hearing your feelings as well. He would do anything within his power to make you feel better when he's done something that upset or hurt you. - If someone else has hurt you, he always knows exactly what to say to make everything feel better. He is the master of solving emotional issues and bringing comfortability into the relationship.

Fuma 🦸‍♂️

Wearing matching Pokémon pajamas is a requirement if you're going to be in a relationship with Fuma. If you expect snuggles before bed, you'd better hope to god that you're wearing whatever ridiculous pajama set or onesie he pulled out of his closet for you.

Cuddling up in bed on the weekends to watch movies is his ideal type of 'date.' He would lay with his arms wrapped loosely around you, a content smile always resting on his face, a light blush probably creeping onto his cheeks if you lay your head on his chest or snuggle your face close to his while enjoying the movie.

Cooking together is an activity he would absolutely NEVER say no to. He thinks it's so much fun to stand in the kitchen and try to match recipes you found on Google or TikTok together. He loves to give you backhugs whenever you're chopping vegetables or standing to wash your hands. One thing you should know though, he likes to get the first taste of everything just so it's perfect before you bite into anything.

He loves to tell you about his dreams as soon as he wakes up in the morning. His sleepy grumbles, mumbles, and chuckles seem to be the best thing to help start your day. He always asks what you dreamed of the night before as well and will somehow try to find a way to make the dream-talk a breakfast date.

Play any kind of Switch game with him and he's absolutely becoming a mushy, soft mess, especially if you need his help learning the controls. His favorite game to play with you would probably be Animal Crossing, as he could shower you with cute gifts he crafted or traded away on his island.

K 👑

This man absolutely adores you. There's nothing more important to Kei than you. He looks at you like you're the one who cast all of the stars into the sky above his head. If God created anyone perfectly by hand, it's you.

He's an attentive listener. He loves to lounge lazily on the couch and listen to you talk about your day. He asks a lot of questions just so the conversation doesn't have to end so soon. He's almost like your personal diary at some point. He's just an easy and comfortable person to talk to.

Protective and slightly possessive boyfriend. He is not controlling by any means but he does get obviously possessive over you if he feels that someone is coming onto you in front of him. He mostly reaches to hold you close or stands in between you and whoever is making him feel antsy in his spot. Protective boyfriend is a given. Yudai, though not a violent guy, would absolutely put a smackdown on someone if he felt it was necessary to keep you safe.

He's almost like your not-house-husband. This man doesn't let you do anything to pick up around your own house. If he's there, you're going to sit down and relax and he will take care of whatever has been bothering you. Laundry pile bugging you? No problem, it's folded while you're watching a movie together and put away before he goes home. Got some dishes needing to be done after eating dinner? Don't even think about it, he's on top of the issue and the dishes are drying before you can even reach for a sponge. Sometimes you have wonder if you accidentally hired a maid instead of getting a boyfriend.

He waits up for you if you've been out. He's a natural-born worrier who will keep a close eye on his phone in case you need to give him a text or call. He's always telling you to text him when you've gotten to your destination(s) safely and he will stay up all night waiting for the text message or waiting to see you. Even if you insist that he gets rest, he will stay up and wait patiently to make sure you don't need him to come get you.

Nicholas 🍓

Annoying in such an endearing way. He teases you nonstop because he loves to hear your gentle giggles and watch as your cheeks heat up a nice red color because of his antics

Romantic as all get out. He looooves to buy you small gifts like flowers or candies and he's all about the lifestyle of taking you shopping as a date. Going shopping with you is one of his favorite ways to spend time with you and he will call it a "date" every time.

Taking photos of you is his number one hobby. On a date? Fifteen photos. Sleeping comfortably in his bed? About sixty photos. -- No matter the occasion, you can be certain his entire camera roll is nothing but photos of you.

He sleeps most comfortably if you guys are cuddled up close to one another. He almost cocoons the two of you in his blankets whenever you stay the night at his place. He likes you hug you tightly and rest with his head lightly pressed against yours. He sometimes plays soft music when he's falling asleep but if he knows it bothers you, he will just mumble soft stories to you (mostly to himself) until he's fallen asleep.

Financially irresponsible but only because he loves to spoil his lover. He will buy you anything you say you want or hint at liking. If you guys are shopping together and see a pair of shoes you barely hint at liking, they're already tucked up under his arm and he's probably grabbing a second pair just in case the first ones get ruined. You like a design on a shirt? It's yours and he's not taking arguments. You often contemplate hiding his wallet from him or wearing a pair of sunglasses whenever you're shopping with him so he stops purchasing everything you look at. Anytime you fuss at him for spending so much money on you, he will get sulky and tell you "but I just like to see you happy, you wouldn't take that away from me, right?" -- And then you're left in a dilemma of either watching the dude drain his bank account or letting him sulk and drag his feet all day because you told him NO for once.

Yuma 🐱

Yuma would be such a cute boyfriend. He would be kind of shy whenever he tries to flirt with you and he always bursts into a fit of soft, nervous giggles whenever you lean in to give him kisses.

He always sends you the cutest selfies whenever you're not together. He loves to send you pouty photos with "it's less fun without you here" attached, or he will send a photo of something cute and silly with "I thought of you" sent right after.

Plushies are how he shows his love for you. Everywhere he goes, he buys you a new stuffed animal to toss onto your bed. It's getting to the point where there's not enough space for you in the bed because the stuffed animals are starting to take over but he cares not one bit. He would buy an entire house just for stuffed animal storage if he had the funds to do so.

Sharing clothes is something Yuma likes to do. If you have a cute shirt he knows will fit him, it's not your shirt anymore. If you want to steal a jacket or pair of jeans of his out of his closet, he'd never complain. He'd tell you that you look better than he does in whatever article of clothing it is.

He loves to share earbuds with you. Listening to music together is something simple that makes him feel more connected to you. He likes when you guys take turns picking the next song in the queue to listen to together. He always makes sure he brings a back up pair of earbuds in case the first pair ever dies in the middle of a small jam session.

Jo 🍚

Holding hands is his favorite form of intimacy. To Jo, there's nothing sweeter and more endearing than offering your hand to him and just allowing him to hold it tightly within his own. His thumb is always caressing the side of your hand lovingly, especially if he's listening to you talk. It's his way of showing he cares and is listening to you.

Secretly a jealous boyfriend. Though he's shy in nature and would never outright tell you he's jealous when you're giving someone else more attention, it's obvious that he feels a little bit left out whenever your attention is on another friend over him. He gets a little bit pouty and always reaches to place gentle touches on your hand or thigh to remind you that he's there and would like attention, too.

Going out to a nice restaurant for dinner is his favorite form of date night. He loves to see you get dressed up really cute just for him! He will probably compliment you four hundred times before you even reach the restaurant and you keep catching him staring so lovingly at you while he's eating.

Jo is always trying to improve his drawing skills so he can gift you his art or impress you with what he produces. You've seen his sketchbook and have found that he's tried to sketch you a few times already but decided to restart because he didn't like how he'd made you look. He would become incredibly shy and embarrassed if he knew you saw those drawings, so you always pretend not to notice when he's admiring your face a bit more closely than usual, especially when the sketchbook is sitting comfortably in his lap.

Sleepy hammock cuddles when it's raining. Every time Jo knows it will rain, he finds his way to the hammock he's gotten set up on the balcony of his apartment to curl up with a nice book. Of course, once it starts to actually rain, Jo finds himself becoming sleepy and clingy! He almost always calls for you to come climb into the hammock with him so you guys can cuddle and listen to the rain together. Bonus points if you bring a blanket you guys can snuggle up under together. Extra bonus points if you tell him fun stories about your childhood or ask about when he was little and would play in the rain.

Harua 🐰

Surprising you with your favorite dessert is Harua's absolute favorite thing to do. Seeing you get excited because he showed up with your favorite ice cream or yogurt is something that brings him incredible joy.

He calls you pet names more often than calling you by your real name. Sometimes you wonder if he knows your name isn't "sunshine" or "sweetie" because he's so allergic to calling your name.

Flirting isn't a thing with Harua. He's completely oblivious whenever you try to flirt with him and his attempts... Are bad. He thinks telling you he likes your shoes is flirting and he gets a little flustered when it doesn't work out so well. He can occasionally flirt to the point of making you blush but this happens rarely. More often than not, you just have to chuckle at him and give him a kiss on the cheek.

He loves to get his nails done with you. Even if all you get is your nails trimmed or a clear overcoat to make your nails shine, Harua loves to drag you out to a salon for special one on one time. Matching nails are his favorite thing, so if you decide to get a nail design, he will find a way to incorporate it on his own nail as well.

He insists on walking you home. It doesn't matter the time of day, where you live, or how far he will have to travel to get himself home, he wants to accompany you back to your home so he knows you got there safely. He always gives a gentle kiss on the nose before you part ways for the night and he stands patiently outside until he watches you get beyond the door. He never lets you walk alone, especially at night or during a storm and you can count on him to linger outside for a few minutes just to make sure you're safe, able to get inside easily, and weren't followed by anyone else.

Taki 🐣

Taki is a clingy boyfriend. He wants your attention almost all the time and feels lonely whenever you're not around. He's not overwhelmingly clingy, but he is the type who wants to touch you almost nonstop (hugging, holding your hand, playing with your hair, etc.) when you're together and he basically begs for your attention.

Karaoke dates almost every Friday night. He loves to hang out with you and eat yummy snacks while singing your favorite songs together. Duets are a favorite of his so you can also have a small dance together.

He is infatuated with you and thinks you're genuinely the coolest human being that's ever walked this planet. Whatever your favorite hobby is, he's in love with it simply because you are. He is forever going on about how cool he thinks you are to his friends and he loves to brag about the things you get up to. If you're an artist, he's showing off all of your art no matter what. If you make cute little bracelets, you better believe he will wear 5 at a time and talk endlessly about how you made them custom just for him. He's your #1 cheerleader always.

He would wear matching outfits with you. He thinks it's cute to wear matching colors or matching styles whenever you go out on a date together. If you're wearing blue, he will too. If you've got pink somewhere on your outfit, he will try to find a way to make something of his pink (or as close to it as possible) so you can have a cute "couple's outfit."

Taki's favorite thing about cuddling with you is the fact that he gets to be the little spoon. He loves to feel small when you guys cuddle up to watch movies or just to talk about your busy day. -- You always find that he puts his head right over your heart so he can listen to your heartbeat while you cuddle. If he's ever feeling particularly stressed out or upset, you know letting him listen to your heartbeat will soothe him and make everything feel better for a little while.

Maki 🐶

Maki loves to flirt with you. He is a master at flirting and making you blush. He always just grins and winks at you whenever your face is hot and red from his flirting and teasing. Even through text message, he finds a way to flirt and tease you until you're a blushing mess.

He talks about you all the time. Nonstop, he talks about you to his friends and family. He finds a way to bring you up in every conversation, even if it has little relevance to anything that's going on. The conversation could be about what his friends want for dinner and he'll but in with "well you know, y/n likes...." for no reason at all.

He brings you things that remind him of you at random times so you know he's always thinking about you. He mostly shows up with random candles or small throw blankets that had cute designs all over them.

Water gun battles are something that always take place when you're dating Maki. He will randomly pop up from behind the couch and just start shooting water at you before he scurries off to a different room before you can retaliate. Whenever you guys have been moody towards one another, he will offer you a water gun and tell you the first person to tap out has to apologize first. -- Of course, he ends up apologizing first, but the water gun fight is just a way he tries to bring the mood up and make things more lighthearted when you've both been a little grouchy towards one another.

Let's get one thing clear. If there's a bug, he's not getting it out of the house / room / area. He will scream like he's being ripped apart from the inside out and will in fact run to hide behind you if he sees anything resembling a bug or insect. Congratulations, reader, you're the exterminator of the relationship!

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princessmaeee · 4 months ago

Text

Bisexual Lights

This is all about S M U T Thanos x Reader x Nam Gyu It's more about Nam Gyu than about the reader. I Imagine him being touch straved. He need you and He need Thanos. He play the big guy but when you're alone, he's the submissive one. You can't say I'm wrong and he's not like that.

Also, it's only my second Smut In english, and since a Long time, so it's probably not perfect, but I still hope you will like it ! I was really inspired! Even if it was hard for characters placement, but hey, I figured it out :) Should I plan a Part 2 ?

TW : Threesome - Sub.Nam Gyu - Switch Reader - Dom Thanos - Smoking - Fingering - Oral ( Both gender receiving ) No Squid Game

You should read it while listening this playlist

Taglist : @arzias @space-girl-16

You were at Thanos' small apartment, smoking him and Nam Gyu. It was a rainy night and none of you wanted to go Out, so you just decided to crash on the couch at Su-Bong place and smoke some weed and try some new stuff your two friends got. You put a Movie to not let the apartment in complete silence, even if it wasn’t really silent. Thanos was at his desk, working on some new music. You could hear him mumble some rap words or play some notes with his guitar. Legs against the couch back and head upside down, you gave a Look to Nam Gyu. He was just there, vibing on the sound made by Thanos Guitar, or maybe sound in his head, who knows. Your eyes go to your purple hair friends, next.

«-How was your last Hook up ? You asked Thanos, you didn’t mention her after you left Last Friday. -Boring, he answered. She was too loud. »

You frown your brows and sit correctly, ready to hear what your friend has to tell.

«-I taught you guys like when a Girl moans. -Yeah, but sometimes it’s just too much. Just like girls in those Porn movies. That sounds fake. -Anyway Girls are always like that, Nam Gyu said, some weird loudly moaning Mess.»

You didn’t feel attacked by what your friend told you, but somehow you felt like he would be no better and it made you laugh, making your dark-haired friend look at you, confused.

«-Shut Up Nam-Gyu, I’m sure you will be a Loud moaning mess too. You look like that kind of guy. »

Thanos softly laughs, shaking his head in agreement. Nam Gyu cheeks became red as he tried to defend himself.

«-I don’t know what makes you think that, but that’s absolutely not true. Anyway, girls a easier to make moan than boys, so the biggest moaning mess here will probably be You Y/N »

Still smiling, you get up from the couch and take the stick of weed you friend is still holding in his hand to put it between your lips. Inhaling a deep puff of it.

«-Alright, let’s see that.»

As the smoke comes out of your mouth, you sit on Nam Gyu’s lap, putting your tights on each side of him. Your arms pass around his neck as your free hand gently pulls his hair, giving you a good access to his neck. You start kissing his skin, feeling him shiver. His lips were forced close and you smiled. He was high and probably more sensitive. Nam Gyu is the kind of guy who likes physical touch, he is almost needy for it. Especially with you and Thanos. He’s always there, trying to hold a piece of fabric you wear, touch you or Thanos when you get mad, falling asleep on your shoulders or laps. He never told you but you noticed when you helped him to cut his hair, he loved when people played in it. This guy is just needy and touchstaving. You continue to kiss his neck, going up to his ear, gently biting his lobe before you continue your trail of kisses on his jawline. You could feel Nam-Gyu’s body trembling under yours and you loved it. His hands grab your back as he pull you closer to him.

«-Come on, Nam Gyu, Let it go, you whisper as you get closer to his lips.»

You felt the stick of weed leaving your hand and looked up to see Thanos who have left his desk to come closer. He took a puff before grabbing Nam Gyu’s jaw, getting closer to him. You were now pressed between both of them, your head going back to your friend’s neck as Thanos Lips pressed against his. You noticed some smoke escaping from their kiss. You could feel yourself blushing from the view. It was kinda hot and unexpected. Thanos’s tongue slips into Nam gyu’s mouth, still holding his jaw, pressing a little bite more on it. Yours continue their way on your needy friends, bitting here and there until you finally hear a little moan from him. It was a light sound,muffled by the kiss, but Thanos heard it too and that’s the moment he chose to pull away from Nam Gyu’s lips, letting between them a thin line of saliva. Poor Nam Gyu, he was there, gripping your T-shirt, cheeks red, heavy breath. His body was still shaking as you could feel his boner through his jeans. A devilish smile appears in the corner of your eyes and you give a slight trust, making him moan again.

«-F-fuck … What are playing at… »

You didn’t answer. Instead you let your hands slip under Nam Gyu's Shirt as your lips make their way back to his face to meet theirs. He was still breathless from Thanos' kiss but he still answered yours. You removed his Top, pulling away from his lips a brief moment before coming back. Your hips move, giving another trust against him. This started to turn you on too. Nam Gyu’s hand’s find their place on your hips, making you move again against him. You could feel his tongue slip between your lips and a second pair of hands slid themself under your Top, finding their way to your breast, it was Thanos, who decided to continue this little thing. You could feel his lips on your neck, kissing and sucking your skin until you let a moan be heard. Nam Gyu smiled and broke the kiss.

«-That was a pretty sound you did there -Fuck You.»

You felt your hair be grip and pulled back before your lips met Thanos’s ones. You were kinda confused, that wasn’t the plan. You just wanted to make Nam Gyu moan and you ended up between those two guys. You weren't sure for a second but you felt good between them, so you just closed your eyes and answered your friend's hot kiss, letting you go. Your purple haired friend unties the clip of your bra, letting Nam Gyu pull up your shirt and your F/C bra , releasing your breast. His eyes rooming over it like if it was the first time He saw a pair of boobs in his life. Staring at your erect nipples before he leaned closer, taking one in his mouth. The hot and wet feeling of his tongue twirling around your sensitive tip of skin gives you shivers all over your body, making you moan againt’s Thanos Lips. When he lets go of your lips and hair, you take a moment to breathe as you try to control every sound that could slip out cause of nam gyu’s mouth still around your nips. You just slide your fingers in his hair. With a cocky smile your other hand finds her way through his jeans and unbutton it before putting your hands in his boxer, gripping his dick before you start to pump it. He let go of your breast, pressing his forehead against it.

«-Fuck Y/N…»

Nam Gyu’s whimpers were shaky and adorable. His hips move on their own, silently asking for more. Thanos hands come around you as he puts his chin on your shoulder, whispering to your ear in a lust tone.

«-I’m gonna start to be jealous. -Give me two minutes and I’m all yours »

You could feel Nam Gyu’s dick twitching in your hand as you continue to move it up and down at a quicker pace, making him grunt and moan more and more as he gets closer to his release. His voice was soft but sounded desperate.

«-Please… Y/N… please. »

You smiled more when you heard him beg. Your pace goes slower as your thumb gently slides on his tip full of pre cum.

«-No, please, more…»

His grip on your Hips got more insistent. You could feel his nail digging in your skin, his lips started to kiss your neck, sucking it to let you red marks just like Thanos did on the other side. His hips moving again on their own at a desperate pace.

«-Please, let me cum, I'm so close.»

You could hear Thanos Laugh in your ear.

«-Poor little thing, give him what he wants. He sounds so desperate. -Yeah, I love it. That’s adorable, you reply.»

You finally answered Nam Gyu's request and continued to pump his dick at a faster pace until you could feel something hot in your hand. Removing it from your friend's pants you lick the liquid in the palm of your hand. Thanos takes it and puts one of your fingers in his mouth, cleaning it from Nam Gyu’s cum, right under his eyes. Even if he just came, he could feel his dick still hard caused by the view their friend gave to him. Turning you around, but still keeping you on Nam gyu’s laps, Thanos unbuckled his jeans and dropped it down, freeing his cock in front of you. You quickly get it and open your mouth to take him between your lips. Thanos Sight and slide his fingers in your hair, pressing on your head for you to take all of him until it touches the deepest part of your throat. He moved his hips, fucking your mouth as he wanted. Tears flowed from your eyes as saliva from your mouth.

«-Fuck, you’re such a good girl. Your mouth feel good as hell. »

As Thanos fucked your throat, you felt Nam Gyu’s hand slide in your pants to find their way to your wet core. His finger slips inside you, making you moan againt’s Thanos dick. He removed it from your mouth when he felt like you needed a break to breathe. Nam Gyu didn’t stop his fingers, moving them a little bit faster inside you as you became the moaning mess.

«-Both of you, pants down, he ordered. »

You both listened to him and took your place back on Nam Gyu Lap’s feeling his hard dick in your back. Thanos smiled and pushed the tip of his manhood in your mouth as you took him all again. He present two of his fingers to Nam Gyu

«-Suck it. »

At first, Nam Gyu was unsure but obeyed his friend and opened his mouth to take his fingers in, sucking it like it was Thanos dick. His Tongue moved around it, making it as wet as he could. Close of his orgasm, Thanos started to move his hips faster, fucking your throat again until he let go of his cum in your mouth. You pulled away and caught, putting your hand in front of your mouth to keep it all, swallowing as much as you could. As Thanos removes his finger from Nam Gyu’ mouth, this one pulls your hair to bring you closer and kisses you, making you share the taste of Thano’s cum with him. Your tongues danced together, fighting even, trying to dominate each other, but you were the one to lose when you pulled away when you felt Thanos' Tongue between your legs, licking the wetness of your core and his lips around your swollen Clit.

«-Nam Gyu, spread your Legs, said Thanos, it's gonna spread her better. »

With a Smile, Nam Gyu obey and spreads his legs, making yours spread wilder, making you blush. While Thanos was eating you out, one of his wet fingers slipped into Nam Gyu’s ass, making him let out a soft growl of surprise, he wanted to protest, but Thanos added his second finger, making him moan. Between his tongue around your Clit and his finger moving in and out of Nam Gym, touching his soft spot, you were both some desperate moaning mess as you quickly cum undone.

«-Fuck, you said, exosted, I think I need to take a Shower. -Yeah, good Idea, reply Nam Gyu, I sort of…made a disaster on your back. -Ah, gross, dude… -Said the one who swallowed.»

You felt your cheeks becoming red as you quickly get up from him, still half naked.

«-Get Fuck Nam Gyu ! »

As you quickly lock yourself in the bathroom for a shower, Thanos pulls up his pants before sitting next to Nam Gyu.

«-You were less tight than I thought. Already took it in the ass ? Asked Thanos with a Cocky Smile»

This Time it was Nam Gyu’s turn to blush as he pulled up his pants.

«-Ah Shut Up dude ! »

Pulling his friends by gripping his shirt, Thanos pressed his lips against his to shut him up. Nam Gyu was surprised, but answered his kiss. Both of them make out until you get out of the Bathroom, all clean, wearing Thanos Sweater who just looks like an oversized T-shirt on you. When You came back in the living room, they stopped their making out session and you noticed another bulge in both of their pants. You sight and just go lay on the Bed, too tired to deal with their level of testosterone. Why do mens alway have so much energy when it comes to sex ?

#namgyu smut #smut #thanos smut #x reader #squid game #nam gyu squid game #thanos x reader #nam gyu x thanos #nam gyu x reader #threes0me

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misshugs · 1 year ago

Text

The elevator game || Colby Brock x Reader

[req by anon] You knew you were sensitive to the other side, but you didn't expect a silly little game from the internet to give you this much of an impact.

warnings: cursing, paranormal activity, reader getting (slightly) attacked by ghosts, sensitive/medium!reader, degrading, angst? still not sure what the meaning of it is tbh

a/n: this is my first request ever, i hope i didn't let you down dear anon. Concept based on this video

word count: 2.5k (not proofread)

[u n e d i t e d]

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

"What's up guys, it's Sam and Colby!" Colby screamed towards the camera, as always.

"Today we are here at the Driskill Hotel, also known as the most haunted hotel here in Texas." Sam continues.

"We're here to figure out why this place is so haunted and what message the ghosts here wanna tell the people. And for this video guys, we have a very special someone!" Colby says, moving to the side so that you're visible to the camera.

Waving at it and smiling, you were greeted by Colby's hands wrapped around your shoulders. "Thank you, thank you. Hello, dear people. It is I." They laugh.

"How are you feeling about this? Are you excited?" Sam asks, putting the camera on the both of you.

"I am! The place is HUGE and honestly, just looks so good!"

"Right?? When we got in it was just like a burst of shock at how gorgeous this place is." Sam said and Colby nodded.

"If it weren't haunted I'd probably come here more often, but I can already feel all of these... energies walking around, I wouldn't last too long."

"Oh, right. For anybody that doesn't know, Y/n is actually a bit of medium?" Colby asks while looking at you, making you nod. "Yeah, so she's sensitive to like the energy of shadow figures and things like that, so maybe we'll get to experience something interesting tonight!"

"I'd say hopefully not but that wouldn't make it fun I guess." You laugh and so do they while you explain it is a pain in the ass to feel those things constantly. "It is almost as if you're constantly paranoid about someone looking at you, y'know what I mean?"

"Oh yeah, for sure." Colby noded.

"Yeah so that, but those stares are more physical than anything, there are times where I can feel people walking behind me and when I look back, there's no one."

"I can just imagine how creepy that must feel." Sam said and you chuckled.

"Oh yeah. You have no idea." You smiled.

"Well then, shall we begin the investigation?" Colby asked you, smiling. You quickly smiled back.

"Of course." You kissed him softly before Sam could even turn off the camera.

"Oh, gross man. I'll have to edit that out." He said jokingly and you laughed, rolling your eyes.

"But seriously though, let's keep it moving." You said and they agreed.

Walking around, there were a few pieces of lore they had to explain to you beforehand. About the one and only Driskill who created the hotel, about the little girl that broke her neck, so on and so forth.

There were times when you had this eerie feeling of constantly being followed, so you kept your arms interlocked with Colby's.

"You're doing okay so far?" He asked, cautiously caressing your hand. You nodded.

"Yeah, just feel like we're being followed." You replied, looking back where there was no one there.

"Really??" Sam asked, looking back as well but seeing nothing. "Do you think we caught a ghost's interest?"

"I mean, probably. There is a difference in between someone that's coming just for the hotel part and us, that are investigating and directly needing their intervention. We're making them curious."

"Well, for whatever spirit that might be following us, you're welcome to answer our questions later on tonight." Colby said loud enough for anything around to listen to it.

Honestly, even those small gestures made you so madly in love with him. The way he touches you softly just for you to make sure you're not alone and he's here for you is such a warming feeling.

Wilst looking around the current room, Colby walked up to a random closed door and tried to walk through.

"She said no closed doors!" Sam exclaimed, probably talking about the tour guide's rules of the place.

"Unless it's... unlocked." Colby responded, making Sam roll his eyes.

"Oop, it's Jim Hogg's room." You said, looking up.

"Who's that?" Sam asked.

"I dunno, it says its name on the top." You point up and they just laughed at the comment. I mean, what were they expecting? You had no idea about whatever story roams around these halls asides from the two main ones they've explained.

"Also I don't think you should be trying even more, like if it's hard to go in it's probably because you're not supposed to."

"We have a bad reputation of breaking into places." Sam admitted and you smiled.

"Yeah, I know. I remember that." You chuckle and hold Colby's hand to pull away from the door.

As they kept on chatting and making interesting comments here and there, you found the elevator and pointed it out. "Oh, is this the one?" Colby asked Sam and he just gave him a stare.

"This is the one what?" You ask and they look at eachother.

Sam sighed. "We were going to keep it until the time came, but we may have a little challenge for tonight that has to do with the elevator."

"Ooooh sounds fun. I wanna do it." You smile.

"You sure?? You have to be by yourself." Colby asked, worried but amused.

"Do you think I can't do this, Mr. Brock? That's offensive." You spat, crossing your hands around your chest.

"No! I meant-" He tried to explain, but you quickly interrupted.

"Cancelled, I tell you. Cancelled!" You look away with your eyes closed, trying not to laugh at the stupid situation unfolding.

"Great." You heard him sigh in defeat as Sam started laughing at the both of you. Looking back with a smile on your face, you hugged him.

"Alright, let's get going already." You giggled, gaining a kiss on the top of your head from your boyfriend.

Walking inside the elevator, it almost felt as if it quickly went down in an unnatural way.

"Did you guys feel like... the elevator dropping three inches?"

"Yeah, kinda of." Sam said.

"Three inches is a lot." Colby replied.

"Three inches is huge." Sam continued.

"I can vouch." You said.

"Mass..." Colby began talking but couldn't hold in the laugh after you said that.

Going back to the main lobby, you all reached out to a girl that was apparently the tourguide. She quickly explained the story of the place, how it ended up being the renouned hotel it came to be.

When she explained that the smell of cigar was one of the main ways Driskill manifested, your eyes went wide. "You're kidding."

"No, did you smell it before?" She asked.

"I did! But it was like, close to the entrance so I thought that maybe someone was smoking. I did find it rare because it was just a glimpse of it for like a solid second and then gone." You explained, making the girl smile.

"Well, that was him."

"No way." Colby said, smiling at you.

"Yup." She nodded, continuing to explain as you all started walking back to the elevator. Going inside, the door closed only to be opened again. "Oh?"

"Did we just pressed five and went to one? It's haunted!" Sam exclaimed.

"That was weird." Colby said, looking at the door.

"It was, that was so weird." The guide said, trying to close the door once again, only for it to open again.

"Does it do that often?" You asked and she shook her head.

"No! It doesn't." She walked back out and talked to someone from out side. "Are you fucking with us?"

"That's so strange- oh, I hit it." You whispered. The guide came back in.

"But you see it, right? I'm pressing five and it like start to go up but then it stops." The door closes once again, only for them to open.

"Oh my god." Sam said, whispering.

"And we're doing a challenge here?" You asked confused, making them laugh.

"Not here exactly." Colby smiled.

"Lemme- I'll go out." You said, walking out of the elevator, watching as the doors began to close, only for them to open once again. "Oh no, that's- that's a malfunction alright."

"And you said it, these malfuction all the time." Colby said to the guide as they walked out of the elevator.

When Sam did it by himself, it started working all over again.

"What the fuck??" Colby yelled.

"Are we like fat? Is it fat shaming us?" You whined, making everyone laugh.

And so, even though your night barely started, you were already having some activity to say the least.

And it kept being that way all night. Constant responses from spirits, intelligent ones at that. The little girl, the woman from the vortex room... all the way down to the challenge you've been anticipating the whole night round.

The elevator challenge.

"I think it might be just me but every single time we pass through this side of the hotel I feel like actually throwing up."

"Wait, really?" Colby asked, worried.

"Like an eerie feeling more than anything, almost like I'm kinda feeling a bit dizzy whenever we pass through here."

"Are you sure you want to do this? You can still back out, or I could go in with you." Colby tried to make you change your mind, but you were settled in it.

"No, I have to do it alone. What if it doesn't work because we're together? You're not gonna let me do this right?"

"I do! I'm just worried." Colby admitted, making you smile.

"You cutie. I love you so much." You said, smiling at him and cupping his face before giving him a quick peck on the lips.

"Y'all are gonna make me puke, another part I'm gonna have to cut out." Sam joked, making you giggle.

"Alright, alright. So, how does this work?" You ask, hugging yourself as you wait for instructions.

It was a simple game. Supposedly, you had to hit the buttons of the elevator in a specific order. In the last one, you had to invite in a lady. If the ritual worked, you were supposed to start going up into another world. If it didn't, well, nothing happened and it failed.

"So... I'm about to get isekai'd? We're going to an anime, brothers." You laughed at your own joke while they handed you your camera.

"I send you the order, just in case." Sam continued, and you nodded.

"Thank you, 'cause I already forgot." You turned on your phone as well as the camera and walked in.

"Any last words?" Colby asked cheekishly, making you smile.

"See you in the other side." You answered, before the door closed. You sighed, putting the camera up to your face. "Alright, so... I'm supposed to hit this one first." Switching the camera back to the buttons, you hit the number four.

It began moving. "Oh, good. It would've been a mess if it already fucked up. Alright..." You sighed. "I didn't told them this, but I do find the thought of getting stuck in an elevator horrifying. I just agreed because maybe it might help me out, but it doesn't work the fact that I can feel so many spirits around this area specifically every time we walk past it." You explain before getting on the next floor, touching the next button.

Back down on the lobby, Sam and Colby were talking.

"I didn't want her to do it, honestly. I was gonna do it myself." Sam said.

"Right? She's our guest too, what if something happens to her? That would be the death of me."

"Don't jinx it, brother. She'll be alright."

Boy they were wrong.

Halfway through, your vision started to get blurry, your legs were shaky and you couldn't brush off the feeling of pressure on your chest. It was starting to make you nervous, even more so the fact you were alone.

You started thinking to yourself. What if something really did happen? What if you summon something your body couldn't handle? What if it really did send you to another world?

It happened so quickly, that you have already reached the last floor before you knew it. Gulping down your dry throat, you began to speak. "Alright, if there's something... out... oh fuck." Your vision got blurry and you could feel an inmense ammout of power flushing through the elevator doors even before it opened up.

You couldn't hold it together, it was too much for you to handle as you were suspecting before. Although you tried to stay up, your legs couldn't hold your weight up anymore and you passed out, falling down to the floor, hitting your head strongly onto the hard floor of the elevator.

Luckily, the ritual didn't work. It began going down and the guys, mainly Colby, were anxiously waiting for the doors to open. When they did, their faces fell.

Colby screamed out your name, quickly rushing in and holding your head. "Love?? Sweetheart, what happened? Wake up, please. Oh God." He began shaking, carrying you outside of the elevator so that it was slightly more comfortable.

"What happened? Oh my fucking God." Sam whispered, grabbing your camera from the elevator's floor and walking out.

"She's not responding, Sam." Colby nervously said, making sure you were at least still alive.

You were.

"Should I call an ambulance or something?" Sam asked. "Oh, no. I have the keys with me."

"Let's take her to the hospital, quickly." He lifted you up from the floor and hurriedly got out of the building and to the hospital.

You were alright, luckily. It seemes you have just fainted, but you falling down to the floor and hitting your head so hard made it a bit more complicated than what it had to be.

Colby felt bad, horrible even to think that this could've happened to you.

He should've been more careful, he should've known you were too sensitive to all of these energies so that you would go alone and out to make something so nerve racking. He should've been more insisting, rather than going with the flow merely because of a video.

He let his love have that type of experience because of a mere video.

It devastared him. Made him feel absolutely awful about it. While waiting for you to wake up, he kept on downgrading himself thinking about how he's the worst possible boyfriend.

It all stops when you finally wake up. Looking around the white room, confused.

"What happened?"

"It looks like you fainted... I'm so sorry for letting you do that all by yourself, I should've stopped you, I should've at least gone with you, I'm so sorry that you had to go through that because-"

"Love. Love!" You held his cheeks softly, making him quietly stop ranting, you smiled. "You know I wanted to do it, I was the stupid one for forgetting that big energy rafts can affect me a lot, I'm so sorry baby." You kissed his nose, reassuring him everything was alright.

And honestly, he needed to hear it. From you, specifically. Sam was trying to make him calm down but it didn't really work. It had to be you, your voice, your smile.

The one thing that made him whole all over again.

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I MAY HAVE DONE TOO MUCH FILLER FOR NO GODDAMN REASON- also hoping that dear anon liked it-

thank you for reading, loves~! likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

~nikkõ

#colby brock #colby x reader #sam golbach #colby brock x reader #colby brock x you #colby brock x y/n #fanfic #fic #angst #colby brock one shot #colby brock fanfic #one shot #sam and colby #sam and colby one shot #sam and colby fanfiction #sam and colby fluff #colby brock imagine #paranormal activity #ghost hunting

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winxanity-ii · 8 months ago

Text

READY SET?... YOU BET!!

ship: soccer player!yuji x cheerleader!fem!reader x soccer player!megumi (aged up: reader, yuji and megumi are in early 20s) warnings: non-explicit; suggestive themes word count: 4.5k A/N: Hey guys, just wanted to let you know that i'm reposting this from my alt account, lulu-4-u in case you've seen this posted before...

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

Friday afternoons weren't supposed to be like this.

You should've been back at Inkan College, practicing on your home turf, but no—the soccer team had to take over the field from Tuesday to Friday, leaving your cheer squad scrambling for a place to practice.

And now, thanks to the gym renovations at Inkan, you were all stuck at Kaisen College, borrowing their gym every Friday until further notice.

The situation wasn't ideal, but you'd take anything at this point.

As soon as you stepped into the massive space, the scent of sweat and faint cologne filled your nose.

The echo of shoes squeaking against the polished floor cut through the low hum of conversation, and you spotted Kaisen's soccer team scattered across the court.

They were warming up—stretching, chatting, completely unaware of the growing crowd of cheerleaders filtering in.

A part of you wondered if they even cared as they continued with their warm-ups and drills, seemingly unbothered by your presence.

Except for a few.

A couple of the soccer players couldn't help but glance over at your team, their eyes lingering far too long.

You caught one or two making catcalls under their breath, which only fueled the simmering annoyance you and your teammates felt.

They quickly got back to stretching when one of their coaches barked out an order, but the damage was done.

It wasn't exactly the warmest welcome.

Your manager, Momo, stood by the entrance, tapping her clipboard nervously.

You could tell she was calculating something—probably how to split the gym time without causing too much friction. She was a stickler for schedules, which, given the current chaotic situation, had saved you all a few times.

Without a word, she darted forward, straight toward two figures standing near the side of the court.

At first glance, they were just two guys, probably seniors by the look of them, but the moment Momo reached them, you realized how tiny she looked next to their towering frames.

One of them—short pink hair, a carefree smile plastered across his face—didn't seem to notice Momo's intimidation. His broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his soccer jersey, and his eyes lit up as he listened to whatever joke the other guy, standing just as tall but with dark hair that fell messily over his face, was muttering under his breath.

Momo, clipboard clutched tightly to her chest, cleared her throat.

The dark-haired guy glanced down at her, his expression a mix of boredom and curiosity, while the pink-haired one grinned wider, clearly amused by the situation.

You couldn't help but notice how Momo's usual confidence seemed to shrink as she faced them, her skittish posture a dead giveaway that she was more than a little intimidated.

Not that you could blame her—these two looked like they could flatten anyone who stood in their way if they wanted to.

As Momo continued her strained conversation with the two towering guys, one of your squadmates, Maki, spoke up softly from beside you. "Should someone go over there?" she asked, her voice hesitant but filled with concern.

Her twin sister, Mei, however, had no such reservations, cackling under her breath as she nudged Maki. "Why? Just look at her! She's about to have a full-blown panic attack," she whispered, her voice dripping with amusement. You could almost feel the smirk pulling at her lips.

The rest of the team exchanged confused glances, a mix of frustration and unease settling in.

Your cheer captain, Nobara, wasn't the type to let something like this slide, though. She crossed her arms, scowling as she muttered, "We shouldn't even have to go through this. All the coaches signed off on us using the gym today. This is such a waste of time."

You opened your mouth to agree, but before you could say anything, Nobara had already started moving.

With a huff, she stomped across the gym, grabbing you by the wrist in the process. "C'mon, ____," she grumbled, dragging you along with her.

"W-Wait!" you stammered, barely keeping up with her hurried pace.

You shot a glance over at the rest of your squad, all of them staring wide-eyed as Nobara dragged you straight into the fray.

It didn't take long before you were standing face to face with Momo and the two guys, their attention shifting from your flustered manager to Nobara's fiery glare.

Nobara wasted no time. "What's the holdup?" she snapped, her voice cutting through the awkward tension like a knife. "We have the gym reserved today, so scram."

The pink-haired guy blinked, clearly surprised by her bluntness. His grin faltered for a second before returning with full force, as if he found the entire situation amusing.

The dark-haired one, on the other hand, remained as still and impassive as ever, but Nobara held her ground. "And where the hell are all your cars?" she barked, her voice echoing in the vast gym. “There's barely anyone in the parking lot, yet here are all you idiots, taking up the entire gym like it's your own private space! We had this reserved! Our coaches agreed! But no, you're still here, screwing around like you own the place."

She wasn't holding back, her frustration pouring out with every word. And while Nobara kept tearing into them, you could feel a shift in the air.

The two guys—who had seemed so relaxed moments ago—were now focused on you. It started subtly, but soon, you felt their gazes burning into your skin.

You tried to ignore it, tried to stay focused on Nobara's rant, but the sensation was overwhelming. Heat crept up along the side of your face, crawling down your neck and across your chest as their eyes raked over you, slow and deliberate.

You shifted your weight, suddenly hyper-aware of how exposed you felt in your practice attire—short spandex shorts hugging your thighs, a cropped top barely covering the sports bra beneath it.

Normally, it wasn't an issue, just the usual cheer practice gear. But under their scrutiny, it felt like you were standing there completely bare, vulnerable.

The pink-haired guy's grin faded slightly, his gaze lingering a moment too long, while the raven-haired one's expression remained unreadable, his eyes scanning you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

They didn't say anything at first, just watching. But then, the dark-haired one moved.

"Enough," he said, cutting Nobara off mid-rant, his voice calm but commanding.

Nobara's mouth snapped shut, eyes narrowing at the interruption, but the guy didn't seem fazed. His gaze briefly flickered to you before returning to her. "The soccer team's staying on campus for a training retreat," he explained smoothly. "We were informed that we'd be sharing the facilities with the sister school, but no one mentioned the cheerleading squad had the gym booked today."

His tone wasn't exactly apologetic, but there was something almost diplomatic about the way he spoke, like he knew how to diffuse tension. "We can move our practice outside to the field. The gym's all yours."

Nobara crossed her arms, still irritated, but before she could argue, the pink-haired one chimed in. "Yeah, no problem! We didn’t mean to cause any issues," he added, flashing that grin again, though this time it felt less cocky and more… friendly. "We'll clear out."

Their quick surrender caught you off guard.

It wasn't what you expected, especially after the way they'd been eyeing you. Nobara looked ready to press further, but the raven-haired guy's unwavering stare and unexpected cooperation seemed to keep her from pushing the issue any longer.

The fire in her eyes flickered for a moment, and then she huffed, crossing her arms tighter across her chest. "Uh, fine," she muttered, clearly irritated by how easily they folded. It was like all the energy she’d built up for a full-blown argument had nowhere to go.

Without waiting for another word, she turned on her heel, clapping her hands loudly as she headed back toward the squad.

"Let's go, people!" she shouted over her shoulder. "Stretch! Stretch! Stretch! We've got nationals to prepare for!" Her voice boomed across the gym as she led the charge, her hands clapping rhythmically to emphasize her point.

The cheer team sprang into action at her command, following her lead without question, some of them already shifting into warm-up positions.

You and Momo, however, remained behind for a moment longer, standing awkwardly between the two guys who had been the focus of Nobara's wrath just seconds ago.

Momo, always the one to follow protocol, quickly thanked them once again, her voice barely above a whisper. "Uh, thanks again! We appreciate it!" she squeaked before practically darting after Nobara, clipboard still pressed tightly to her chest as if it were some kind of shield.

Then, it was just you and them.

You scratched awkwardly at the side of your face, feeling the tension of the moment settle around you like an itchy sweater. "Uh, thank you," you muttered, giving the two men a small, polite bow.

When you rose, you caught them both looking at you again, their eyes sweeping over your frame with the same intensity as before. The pink-haired one, who you now realized was taller up close, stepped forward, breaking the silence.

"Hey, no problem," he said with a bright, almost boyish grin. "I'm Itadori Yuji, by the way—team captain. This is my co-captain, Fushiguro Megumi." He gestured toward the dark-haired guy, who gave a small nod in acknowledgment, his expression unreadable as usual.

You offered a polite smile, trying to shake off the lingering awkwardness. "I'm ____," you introduced yourself. "Co-captain of our cheerleading squad... and, uh, sorry about my captain. She can get a bit fired up."

Yuji laughed, the sound warm and infectious. "Nah, it's all good! Passionate captains are the best kind." His eyes brightened with genuine interest as he tilted his head. "So, what's your position? Flyer? Base?"

"Varsity flyer."

Yuji's grin widened, and he tilted his head even further, like a curious puppy. "Oh, so you're pretty flexible, huh?" he said, his tone casual but his words heavy with innuendo.

For a second, your brain short-circuited.

You blinked, feeling heat rise to your face as your mind went straight to the gutter.

But then, you glanced at Yuji's innocent, beaming smile—and Megumi’s total lack of reaction.

Maybe it was just you?

"Y-Yeah, I guess so," you stuttered, trying to keep your voice steady.

Before you could say more, Nobara's voice pierced the air from behind you. "____! Quit messing around and help me stretch already!"

You flinched, turning back to Yuji and Megumi with an embarrassed giggle. "I, uh, I gotta go. Duty calls." You gave them a quick, nervous smile and turned to leave, feeling their eyes on you the whole way back to the squad.

You wiped sweat from your forehead, your body sore and aching as you stretched your arms overhead.

Practice had been brutal, and your muscles were screaming in protest.

With a tired sigh, you walked to the sidelines, pulling on your hoodie as the chill of the evening crept in.

It was nearing 7 p.m., the gym lights casting long shadows across the floor as practice finally came to an end.

Nobara had practically worked everyone to the bone. The longer practice went on, the fewer soccer players you noticed on the field outside.

You'd catch glimpses of them through the windows, their figures becoming less and less frequent whenever you were tossed into the air during routines.

By the time the sun had started to dip below the horizon, the field was nearly empty.

Your squadmates were just as exhausted, pulling on their jackets and finishing the last drops of water from their bottles. You could hear their quiet groans and heavy breathing as they packed up their gear, the sound of sneakers shuffling against the polished floor.

Nobara clapped her hands sharply, rounding everyone up for one last pep talk before you could all head home.

"Alright, listen up!" she barked, her tone still sharp despite the weariness in her own voice. "I know today was rough, but we've got nationals coming up, and there’s no room for slacking off!" She paused for a moment, wrinkling her nose as she glanced around the gym. "And honestly, can you believe the state of this place? Kaisen's gym is a joke. The equipment's ancient, and don't get me started on the smell."

A few of the girls chuckled tiredly, but Nobara didn't linger on the complaints for long. She quickly shifted gears, her expression hardening with determination. "That being said, we need to tighten up! That routine wasn't perfect, and we can't afford any screw-ups. We've got one shot, and we're gonna give it everything we’ve got. Understood?"

The sound of tired but enthusiastic "whoops" filled the gym, everyone too exhausted to muster anything more. Nobara clapped her hands again, signaling the end of practice. "Alright, that’s it! Get your stuff, go home, and rest up. We'll hit it harder next week."

You grabbed your things, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over you like a blanket.

Your teammates were already filing out, chatting quietly among themselves, their bags slung over their shoulders as they made their way to the doors.

The sound of sneakers against the floor faded into the background, and soon, it was just you, your aching muscles, and the quiet hum of the empty gym.

You were shuffling your bag onto your arm when you heard footsteps behind you. Turning, you saw Momo and Nobara making their way over, both looking just as tired as you but clearly still running through their mental checklists.

"Kasumi's been solid lately," Nobara said, crossing her arms as she stopped in front of you. "I'm thinking about promoting her to backup flyer."

You nodded, adjusting the strap of your bag. "Yeah, totally agree. Kasumi's been killing it in the stunts, and she’s got the energy. She's a good choice,for sure."

Momo nodded quickly, scribbling on the clipboard before tucking it under her arm as she chimed in. "I'll make a note to talk to her next session."

A chilly breeze swept through the gym as the three of you walked toward the exit, the cool air a stark contrast to the warmth and sweat of practice.

The doors creaked as you pushed them open, stepping out into the dimly lit parking lot.

The gym behind you had become quiet, almost eerily so, with the earlier sounds of practice and drills fading into the distance.

The lot, which had been full of cars and people earlier, was now nearly empty. All that remained were the scattered vehicles of you, Nobara, and Momo, the only signs of life left after a long, grueling practice.

You could see the condensation forming on the windows of your car as the temperature dropped, the once bustling energy of the gymnasium now a distant memory.

"Well, at least the next few practices should be a little smoother," Nobara muttered, glancing over her shoulder at the now-darkened gym. "If Kaisen can get their act together, maybe we can actually get some work done."

Momo laughed softly, pulling her jacket tighter around her. "One can only hope."

You gave Nobara and Momo one final wave as you unlocked your car door, watching them head toward their own vehicles. The cool metal of your car's handle felt like a relief after the long day, and you were more than ready to head home.

Settling into your seat, you pulled the seatbelt over your chest and clicked it into place. With a tired sigh, you were just about to turn the ignition when your phone buzzed from the passenger seat.

Glancing at the screen, you saw a message from Fujinuma, one of your spotters:

Hey! I left my arm compression sleeve in the locker room. Could you grab it for me? It’s my last pair—should be near the lower lockers by the sinks.

You groaned, letting your head drop back against the seat. "Of course," you muttered to yourself, pulling your seatbelt back off with a click. "Things that come with having responsibilities..."

Shoving your phone into your pocket, you reluctantly pushed the car door open and stepped back into the brisk night air. The wind had picked up a little, sending a chill through your hoodie as you trudged back toward the gym.

The silence of the empty parking lot felt heavier now, with only your footsteps breaking the stillness as you made your way back inside.

The gym's door creaked as you pushed it open, the faint echo of your steps bouncing off the empty walls. In the short amount of time since your group had left, the gym lights had already been turned off.

The sudden darkness sent a small shiver down your spine. "Creepy," you muttered under your breath, hugging your arms close as you quickly retraced your steps to the locker room.

You'd only used the locker room once before, during the last practice, so you weren't exactly familiar with its layout.

The long, narrow hallway that led to it felt even more unnerving now, the dim emergency lights casting strange shadows on the walls. The sound of your footsteps echoed slightly, the quiet hum of the building adding to the eerie atmosphere.

As you pushed open the door to the locker room, you expected to find complete silence—just an empty space waiting for you to grab Fujinuma's sleeve. But instead, as you stepped further into the room, the sound of rushing water hit your ears.

You froze for a second, your heart skipping a beat, eyes widening as you squinted toward the steam creeping from the lit showers around the corner. Shit, you thought, panic prickling your skin. Who the hell is still here?

Your heart raced, but you shook your head, trying to focus. Get the sleeve, get out, you told yourself, forcing your mind back to the task at hand.

Pulling out your phone, you quickly skimmed over Fujinuma's message again. "Lower locker, near the sink," you mumbled under your breath, shoving your phone back into your jacket pocket.

The faint glow of the shower lights barely reached your side of the locker room, but you did your best to navigate the dark space. You crouched down next to the row of sinks, your fingers fumbling with the cold metal locker.

You tugged it open with a slight creak, your breath catching as you spotted Fujinuma's compression sleeve sitting just where she said it would be.

You grabbed it quickly, stuffing it into your pocket. Relief washed over you as you pulled your phone out again, ready to let Fujinuma know you had it and you were getting the hell out of there.

Just as your fingers hovered over the send button, a voice cut through the eerie silence.

"Hey, stranger, what brings you here?"

Your breath hitched in your throat, and before you could even process the words, the locker room flooded with bright light, illuminating the entire space.

Your pulse quickened, and you whiped around to face whoever had just spoken.

Your head snapped over, eyes wide, and your mouth dropped open at the sight in front of you.

Standing by the entrance to the shower area, his hand casually resting on the light switch, was none other than Yuji—the captain of Kaisen's soccer team.

His pink hair was plastered to his forehead, dripping with water from his recent shower.

The steam rising around him only added to the surreal atmosphere. His lean yet muscular frame glistened in the bright lights, every defined muscle on full display, water sliding down his toned chest and abs.

A towel hung loosely around his waist, dangerously low on his hips, barely covering what it needed to.

You couldn't help but stare, feeling your brain short-circuit for a second as the reality of the situation sunk in.

The heat from your earlier practice was nothing compared to the heat now rising to your face as you tried to comprehend what you were looking at.

Yuji's lips curled into a wicked smirk, amusement dancing in his eyes as he tilted his head to the side, the same playful gesture you'd seen earlier. His voice was smooth, laced with something suggestive, but his tone remained infuriatingly innocent.

"So," he drawled, his eyes flicking over you briefly, "gonna tell me what brings you here? Looking for a midnight snack... or something else?"

The words hit you like a punch.

You choked on your spit, eyes widening as Yuji's words sank in, feeling your face flush even more.

A series of coughs followed, and you quickly clasped a hand over your mouth, your face hot as fire.

You struggled to pull yourself up onto your feet, eyes darting everywhere but him—focused on the ceiling, the lockers, literally anywhere that wasn't the sight of his wet, muscular frame standing there, towel barely hanging on.

"Uh… well…" you started, fumbling over your words as you desperately tried to navigate your way out of the locker room. "One of my squadmates left her compression sleeve, and… well, I came to get it." Your voice wavered as you bumped into a locker, making your way toward the exit, not even noticing when the sound of the shower behind you turned off.

"So, yeah…" you continued, trying to fill the awkward silence. "What can I do, say no? I'm the co-captain, haha…" You gave a nervous laugh, your mind scrambling to come up with something to say, anything to escape this weirdly intimate moment.

Just as the words left your mouth, you suddenly gasped, your breath catching in your throat. Without warning, you bumped into something—someone—solid.

Before you could react, a strong, wet arm wrapped around your midsection, pulling you gently but firmly against a warm, muscular chest.

The heat radiating off the figure seeped through your hoodie, and you could feel droplets of water from their skin soaking into the fabric, sending a shiver down your spine.

You froze, the feeling of firm, veiny muscles around you making your heart race even faster.

The warmth of his body pressed so close to yours made your mind go blank. Tilting your head back just a little, you came face to face with a pair of piercing, dark blue eyes.

Megumi—the co-captain.

His expression was unreadable, but his grip on you remained steady, his arm still snug around your waist, and for a moment, you couldn't breathe, your words completely stolen by the intensity of his gaze.

"S-Sorry!" You squeaked out an apology, feeling the heat rising in your face again as you quickly stepped forward, trying to put some distance between yourself and Megumi.

But just as you freed yourself from his grasp, you bumped into something else—something solid. You froze, your body going stiff as you realized what, or rather who, you had just walked into.

Yuji.

You kept your eyes fixed straight ahead, staring at his honey-tanned chest and desperately trying not to ogle his still-dripping frame.

Every muscle in your body felt locked in place, trapped between the two of them.

When you finally managed to tilt your head up, you were met with Yuji's face—except he wasn't smirking this time. He was pouting.

"Really, Megumi?" Yuji whined dramatically, his voice filled with playful irritation. "You always get the cool, sexy entrances. It's not fair! I was just gonna offer to help, but you had to swoop in like that and steal my moment."

Megumi, still standing behind you, rolled his eyes, clearly unbothered by Yuji's theatrics. "It's not a competition," he muttered dryly, his voice low and calm, completely unfazed by Yuji's over-the-top complaint.

You blinked, completely caught off guard, your mind struggling to process what was happening.

Here you were, sandwiched between the captain and co-captain of Kaisen's soccer team, listening to them banter as if this was all totally normal.

You could only stare up at them in complete wonderment, your brain short-circuiting from the surrealness of the situation.

Gulping, you made the mistake of trying to move. Your body shifted slightly, but it only caused you to stumble forward, right into Yuji’s chest. His firm, warm body pressed against yours, and before you could react, you felt his strong arms wrap around you, keeping you in place.

"Whoa, where d'ya think you're going, babe?" Yuji teased, his voice low and playful. He tilted his head to the side, licking his lips as he looked down at you with that same mischievous glint in his eyes.

The nickname sent a shiver through you, and you felt heat rising to your face again as you tried to wiggle free, but his hold on you only tightened.

Your mind raced as you attempted to come up with a reasonable excuse, anything to escape this increasingly compromising situation. "I-I need to get back," you stammered, not quite believing the words yourself as you glanced over your shoulder at Megumi, who was watching you intently. His gaze was sharp, focused, and completely unreadable.

"Oh? But we're just getting started~" Yuji cooed, his voice dripping with amusement as one of his hands moved gently along your back, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine.

You wanted to move, wanted to push them both away, but every time you tried to pull yourself free, it felt like you were sinking deeper into their grasp, prey to their every suggestion.

Your breath hitched as Megumi finally stepped closer, his tall, imposing figure now looming behind you again. His hand brushed lightly against your arm, a subtle, almost teasing touch that sent your thoughts spiraling.

His dark blue eyes locked onto yours, and you could feel the tension building between the three of you, thick and palpable in the air.

"You're not really in a rush, are you?" Megumi asked softly, his tone smooth and laced with a hint of seduction. His gaze dropped to your lips for just a second, and before you could protest, he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a steamy kiss.

Your mind went blank as his lips moved against yours, slow and deliberate.

You hadn't expected it, but the heat and intensity of his kiss sent your heart racing.

For a moment, you forgot everything else—the locker room, the late hour, the surrealness of it all—lost in the sensation of his lips claiming yours.

Your resistance melted away as you gave in, your body leaning into his touch.

And just as you found yourself surrendering to Megumi, Yuji's soft chuckle broke through the haze. His arms were still around you, holding you close, and as Megumi pulled back slightly, Yuji tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

"Don't forget about me," Yuji murmured, his voice a playful rumble before he pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was different from Megumi's—softer, but no less electrifying.

You felt a jolt of desire shoot through you as Yuji's lips moved against yours, his playful nature evident in the way he kissed you, teasing and tasting like he had all the time in the world.

Megumi's lips left yours only to trail down the side of your neck, his kisses slow and deliberate, sending shivers across your skin. At the same time, Yuji deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing yours with a mix of intensity and playfulness that left you breathless.

Your mind struggled to keep up as you felt a pair of hands slip under your hoodie, splaying across your abdomen, fingers caressing the soft skin of your stomach before they slid to your hips, holding you firmly in place.

You gasped softly against Yuji's lips, pulling back to catch your breath, but the moment you did, he moved to kiss and suckle along the other side of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

The sensation of both men kissing you, touching you, made your knees weak.

Yuji hiked up one of your legs, pulling it around his waist to bring you closer, his grip firm as he held you in place.

Your mind was growing hazy with desire, your body caught between the two of them, every nerve alight with sensation. Megumi's lips continued to work against your neck, his hands slipping under your hoodie to hold you steady, while Yuji’s lips and tongue sent waves of heat through you.

Suddenly, Megumi's hand reached up to tilt your head back onto his shoulder, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, his voice low and filled with temptation. "Do you wanna play with us?"

Your breath hitched, heart pounding in your chest as his words sunk in. You blinked, your heavy-lidded eyes glancing through your lashes to find Yuji's face in front of you.

The pinkette's usual bright and playful expression was now flushed with desire, his eyes dark and heavy as he looked down at you. His grip on your hips tightened, a soft groan escaping his lips as he rocked his hips forward, grinding gently against you.

"Please," Yuji's voice was almost pleading, his tone husky with need. "Can we play with you?"

A/N: lololo ignore me just tryingn my hand at college aus...

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kotoku · 10 months ago

Note

Hi, can I request an Aventurine with an Inmortal! s/o who's also non-binary plz 👀

You're free to reject it if u want, just giving u an idea... 😅

ᴀᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀɪɴᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴ ɪᴍᴍᴏʀᴛᴀʟ! ꜱ/ᴏ

pairings - aventurine x immortal! reader

content - reader is non-binary/ gender-neutral terms/ established relationship/ aventurine is in for a shock/ reincarnation themes

warnings - teeny angst towards the end

⋘ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ... ⋙

↻ You probably wouldn’t have told him about your immortality, figuring that you could tell him when the time is right

↻ Turns out, that time is when you’ve been brutally wounded by an enemy, Aventurine nearly having a heart attack when you show up with multiple wounds and cuts that seemed life-threatening

“How are you..alive??”

“..Surprise..?”

↻ When you break the news to Aventurine, he doesn’t react at first, seemingly taking in everything you had explain

↻ A part of him feels devastated, is he just a fleeting chapter in your book? A memory that would slowly be forgotten over time? But he also feels relieved, you couldn’t die so he didn’t have to worry about your death anytime soon

↻ Aventurine slowly comes to terms with your immortality, always inquiring about your past and what it’s like

↺ He’s probably curious about the healing process and the damage you take, asking about any experiences you had during battles where it took you a while to heal (the morbid curiosity this guy has…)

↻ If you’re in a battle with Aventurine, you’d probably throw yourself in front of him to defend him from any attacks if his shields aren’t up

↺ He hates your recklessness but also appreciates it

↻ You, as expected, stay the same as Aventurine continues to age, watching him slowly gain wrinkles and his hair fade away (if he doesn’t die to something else, of course)

↺ You’d be pretty devastated about him, mourning his death for a long, long time before suddenly, you see a familiar head of blond and magenta-cyan eyes

“..How– How can this be..?”

↻ If Aventurine were to be reincarnated, you’d be thrilled but also a bit sad, all the memories you shared together, reduced to nothing, as you stand before him as a stranger

“Do I..know you?”

↻ You could feel yourself breaking down all over again, mourning a person who was dead but alive before your eyes

↺ You’d probably avoid interfering with his reincarnation, wanting fate to run its course

↺ And run its course it did

↻ The reincarnation of your past lover falls for you yet again, and it is only now that every person you have ever loved in the past, resembled Aventurine in some way (whether it was his blond hair, unique eyes, or personality, they all had something in common)

↻ In every life time of his, you were there

↻ You were eternally tied to his soul; soulmates

⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ⋙

#writing➠#hsr #honkai star rail #hsr aventurine x reader #aventurine x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #fluff #teeny angst #immortal reader #reincarnation themes

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madridfangirl · 7 months ago

Text

I'm taking you home NOW!

(Part 2 of the one-shot. On popular demand. Part one here. This is SMUT.)

Summary: Jude sees his girlfriend at a club, tries to control himself as he watches her have the time of her life, but ultimately decides to take the matter in his own hands. What happens when he finally gets his hands on her?

Inspired from an anon request.

She hung up. Jude couldn’t believe she hung up on him.

He stared at his phone, then at her through the glass, then back at his phone.

Boy, was he going to make her pay.

Ananya realised that wasn’t a very smart move but he had completely thrown her off-guard. Between fight or flight, her instincts went with the latter. She could feel his gaze on her as she walked back to her table, the intensity burning her skin even through the distance and glass divider. She didn’t dare to look in that direction and sat down with her back to him.

Jude stayed there for a few seconds, half-inclined to walk down there right now and make good on his threat. But if he did that, sex would be off the table tonight. His parents / team would get a heart attack from the scandal he would have caused. And Ananya - oh she would strangulate him with her bare tiny hands.

Grudgingly, he dragged himself back to his teammates. Brahim elbowed him as soon as he sat down, telling him he was being too plain. Just that, the rest of the guys were pissed drunk already and hadn’t noticed. Jude couldn’t get himself to care. His thoughts were elsewhere.

Ananya knew he wouldn’t just let it go. And she was proven right 5 mins later when her phone buzzed.

It was a picture with him, Cama, Vini and three waitresses. Two of them were on either side of Jude, their arms around his back and his around theirs. Both leaning against him, a little too close, looking all giddy and infatuated. The typical reaction he invoked in girls.

She started at her screen, open-mouthed, at his obvious attempt to rile her up. No, she won’t give him the satisfaction. She watched her tone carefully before texting him back.

Ananya: ??

Jude: Sent by mistake. Was sending to one of the girls.

Please, like she was born yesterday.

Jude: They didn’t have their phone on them so I took from mine & sending over. To the one on my right.

So, Jude had her number and she had Jude’s.

Ananya: How sweet.

The girl was pretty. A classic petite, sexy Spanish brunette. A high-end waitress for the VIP section of one of the most posh clubs in Madrid. In her tight-fitted top & mini-skirt. Ananya knew from first-hand experience how Jude had a fetish for such uniforms.

Jude: Yeah she’s over the moon. Thanking me non-stop.

She groaned. The boy was smart, talking in insinuations so she couldn’t hold anything over his head. So he doesn’t lose the moral high-ground he had right now. So he could always say later ‘oh it was just a nice thing I did for my fans.’

The fucker. The absolute shrewd twat.

It had taken him all of 5 mins to swing this. The girl was probably touching his arm right now, trying to get his attention in her barely there attire. Batting her lashes, smiling extra hard. Reserving special service for him. Ready to drop her knickers at his one look.

Her friend probably wanted to join in too. Both in a frenzy over how sweet he was being. Trying to score with the hottest property in football right now (literally & figuratively), who was drunk (ergo unreserved) and looked like an absolute meal tonight.

This happened all too often with him. Offers for quickies in washrooms / hook-ups / one-night stands tended to pour in for him freely. Jude would tell her every time someone hit on him so explicitly or proposition him so openly. It was an unspoken understanding between them, something that gave her comfort.

Usually, he would nip these things in the bud, not providing any encouragement. But tonight, would he indulge a bit? To get back at her for her supposed flirting?

She hadn’t flirted, she hadn’t. She just smiled a bit cheesily at the bartender and chatted him up so she could get her drinks faster. That’s it. That wasn’t flirting, right?

Jude would vehemently disagree. But fuck him.

And fuck the fact that he knew her so well. He knew what this photo would do to her. The exact things running through her mind. How she would notice that his hands were on their waist, not their shoulders which was his usual with other girls. How she’d be able to tell that the girls were trying to throw themselves at him.

And it had taken him less than 5 mins to orchestrate this. Such was his charm.

The bastard. She hated his guts right now.

He wanted every single one of these 30 mins to be a torture for her. Not letting her have the win. And he was succeeding. In her heart, she knew he wouldn’t cross the line, she trusted him. But there was a grey area that existed between nonchalance and crossing the line. And Jude being Jude was obviously well aware of that grey area of ‘humouring someone’ or ‘harmless flirting.’

If she was making him wait, then he wanted to make sure she feels the pinch of it too. To the point where SHE suggests to call it a night sooner. How sweet a win that would be for him, he’d forever throw that in her face.

No. Whatever happens, she won’t succumb to such lows. Even the great, most desirable Jude Bellingham would have to wait once in a while. Even if it was killing her from the inside.

Ananya: Careful, unless you wanna sleep on the couch tonight.

Jude: Neither of us are sleeping tonight.

She hated the shiver that ran down her spine. She hated the power he had over her, making her tremble just with his words.

In need of some liquid courage, Ananya downed three more shots of tequila quickly. That, and the lack of food during the night, hit her straight in the head. She went to the washroom to fix her look, re-applying the makeup.

It was almost time. To walk into the lion’s den. A pissed-off predator on edge. At least that’s what it felt like as she somehow found the way to the back-door of the VIP section.

When she saw his car, she froze. Not knowing what to expect tonight. He’d always been possessive & dominant, but tonight he felt unhinged. Like some switch had flipped in his head.

When she didn’t move for a few more seconds, her phone started ringing. She didn’t bother looking, she knew it was him. Growing impatient. Wanting her to move her butt. As if he was the king of the world.

Cocky, entitled prick.

Half-pissed and full drunk, she marched to the car. As soon as she got into the back-seat, she turned towards him.

‘Just you? Thought your admirers would join you.’

Jude scoffed, looking at her like she had let his childhood pup run to the road and get hit by a car.

‘Look who’s talking.’

Their eyes locked in a fiery staring contest.

‘YOU SENT ME A FUCKING PHOTO YOU JERK.’

‘You started it.’

The fact that he was able to keep his head and speak with an even tone pissed her off further.

‘I started it? I STARTED IT? OH YOU LITTLE…’

A timid uncomfortable clearing of throat from the front seat broke her out of her rage. Poor Agnes wanted to be invisible in that moment.

‘Ummm, sorry but shall we get going? The security is signalling us to clear the lane.’

Jude recovered quickly while Ananya sat numb. Having completely forgotten about the sweet chauffeur’s existence. Someone she had grown fond of. Someone her uncle’s age maybe. Someone she respected. And she just made a scene in front of him. Horrified, she sunk into her seat.

‘Yes please. Take us home.’

‘Sure thing.’

His place was a short 15 min away. Especially at this hour of the night.

She was determined to let these minutes pass without any other incident. But Jude had other plans.

He took off his jacket and threw it over her, covering her waist and legs. Before she could tell him she wasn’t cold or anything, his hand found its way under the jacket to her thigh, lifting her dress up, grabbing her bare skin.

She gaped at him in shock, but he looked straight ahead, completely nonchalant.

The pressure of his hand increased. She bit her lip to muffle her gasp, trying to push his hand away but Jude stayed firm. She tried again but he gripped her harder, showing her how it will play out if she struggles more.

She couldn’t push him away with more force. She couldn’t call him out verbally. She couldn’t throw the jacket away while his hand was there. With Agnes sitting ahead, all these would create such a scandal in her head that it would take forever to recover from the embarrassment.

And Jude knew that. He knew she didn’t have an escape, and he pounced on the opportunity.

His hand travelled further up, brushing against her core. Her shocked whimper didn’t go unnoticed this time, and Ananya tried to cover it up by pretend cough.

‘Would you like some water?’

Agnes passed over a bottle to her, which she took gratefully. While Jude suppressed a smirk building at the corner of his lips. How she wanted to slap that pretty face right now.

While she sipped the water, his fingers brushed against her again, and some water spilled out. A trail of droplets went down her lips, via her long neck, soaking her cleavage, disappearing into her strapless dress. Drawing Jude’s attention. He stared at her wet, smooth, glistening skin and cursed inwardly when she wiped off the spilled water with her hand, missing his thirsty look altogether.

His hand assaulted her sensitive skin with more intent, alternating between her thigh and her core. Feeling how wetness started to pool between her legs.

Helpless, she looked out of the window. Hoping for the universe to swallow her whole. Biting her hand / wrist to mask her whimpers. Feeling a strange mix of anger, frustration & arousal. All feelings accentuated due to her drunken state. He was stroking the fight away from her, one touch at a time. Every move calculated to turn her into a whiny hot mess. Needy, pliant and ready for him.

She hated him for putting her in this vulnerable position. But her body was responding to the thrill of it. Jude was the king of spontaneity and adventure, never a dull moment with him.

Finally, they reached home. The ride felt like 3 hours to her, but it had only been 12 mins.

‘Thanks Agnes. You can leave the car here.’

The middle-aged man turned towards his boss, confused. The car was in the open driveway, not in the covered garage where he usually parked.

‘It might rain tonight. And the dust…’

‘It’s alright. See you tomorrow. Good night.’

‘Good night to you too.’

A very confused Agnes got out of the car, as his passengers remained in the back seat.

Ananya knew where this was going. Doing it in the car was one of Jude’s fetishes too. He would have preferred an open road if he wasn’t who he was. She was just thankful he waited for Agnes to be out of hearing distance.

As soon as Jude saw the compound gate click shut, he grabbed her waist and pulled her into his lap, making her straddle him. Her dress inched further up by the position, pooling at her waist, revealing her matching red lace panties. Jude traced the border of the flimsy garment with his index finger, losing his focus for a few seconds, while she tried to gauge his mood by studying his face.

She was still mad at him but darn it she also needed him now. His expert fingers had worked their magic as usual. And her drunken state was making her needy. She liked to be taken softly & slowly after being buzzed. While that wasn’t gonna happen tonight, given the mood he was in, but maybe she could find a middle ground.

Ananya leaned forward, trying to kiss his lips, but he grabbed the back of her head, keeping her in place. Staring at her with a ferocious intensity. Like he wanted to eat her alive.

‘You had your fun tonight.’

Being the sole object of his undivided, obsessive attention was also intoxicating in its own way. There were surely worse things in the world than Jude Bellingham wanting to fuck you anytime he wanted.

And she needed him to get on with it, preferably not too roughly.

‘Yes, with my friends.’

Her tone was soft and assuaging. She moved in his lap, trying to rub herself against his crotch, but he grabbed her hips too, not letting her dictate the terms.

‘Not JUST with your friends.’

The image of the bartender and those ugly, sweaty guys trying to dance with her was still fresh in his mind.

Arguing that point would be useless, so she changed tact, keeping her tone sensuous.

‘Does it matter? I was always going to come home to you.’

He scoffed, incredulously.

‘YOU REFUSED ME. I NEEDED you and you REFUSED ME.’

He was painfully half-hard most of the night, all because of her. And she had refused to take care of his need.

‘Didn’t refuse you baby, just asked for a bit more time with my friends.’

‘Yeah right.'

Despite her horniness, his petulant tone was starting to set her off. Here she was trying to be the adult, to let bygones be bygones, but he was stuck on being petty.

‘What are you implying exactly?’

‘That you FLIRTED with that asshole, you KNEW what you were doing. And then you picked your friends OVER ME.’

He was probably right about the flirting bit. In a rational state she may have conceded this. But rationality had gone out of the window at his entitled cribbing.

‘Yeah, and what about what you did, huh?’

She grabbed the collar of his shirt, both to shake him and to steady herself.

‘I got one night in weeks, WEEKS, to get out of work early and have fun with my friends. But you wanted me to drop EVERYTHING and run to you at your first command? To be at your beck and call all the time? I don’t deserve one night off?’

‘All the time? ALL THE TIME? We have barely….’

‘SHUT UP.’

She yelled like she meant it, shushing him up for good.

‘And you had the audacity to send me THAT photo? Fuck that, you had the audacity to TAKE THAT PHOTO? What did you do to make them so giddy, huh? Smiled at them? Paid some compliments? Let your gaze linger? Brushed your fingers against their hand? What did you fucking do in those 5 mins that they were FALLING ALL OVER YOU?’

Jude leaned back against the seat. Smug, proud, making no effort to hide the sentiment.

That egotistical dickhead.

‘Who says I did anything?’

‘I’ll fucking slap you I swear. TELL ME.’

Jude eyed her, calculating his next move, choosing his words carefully.

‘Just said I liked what they were wearing.’

She shook him by his collar. Hard.

Jude loved it when she was all pliant and needy. But he loved it even more when she was this feisty & lippy with him.

The image of him complimenting them and them turning into mush on the spot made her want to puke.

Enraged, Ananya moved to smack him on his chest but he grabbed her wrists, hard enough so she feels the sting.

Another defiant staring contest ensued, as she struggled to get off his lap, failing miserably, her movement making his blood rush south.

Defeated and pissed off, she reverted to a verbal retort.

‘Maybe I should call that bartender and say that to him too, yeah? He did give me his number after all.’

He hadn’t. Well, he was about to do that but she cut him off at the right time. To hell with facts though.

Jude stilled, then turned the full force of his glare at her, face heating up with ire at her words.

She tried to meet his eyes head on, but it was like staring into the sun. It burned her, and she flinched, looking away to shield herself.

He locked her arms behind her back, tightening his grip on her wrists, his hot & heavy breath causing goosebumps on her face.

She thanked her stars for not mentioning Arjun instead of the bartender, an option she had considered briefly. God knows how nuclear he would have gone then. Would have probably kept her locked in his room, tied to his bed for weeks on end.

‘He did what?’

His voice was low & threatening, somehow a lot more sinister than when it was raised. She felt its effect straight between her legs.

‘Answer me, sweetness.’

Oh, the bite in that suppose endearment. She shuddered involuntarily. But she was too far in to back out now.

‘I…I wasn’t gonna do anything about it.’

‘Immaterial, darling. You let him think he had a shot, yeah? That he could take you home tonight, or to his car, or a quickie in the loo. Correct?’

She shook her head from side to side in a no, unable to find the right words to respond.

‘No? So when you were bending over the counter, giving him a view of this…’

He grabbed a breast harshly, making her gasp.

‘….was it to tell him that you were taken?’

She whined loudly under his touch.

‘Jude c’monnn I….’

‘Quiet.’

She hated herself for complying immediately. Like an obedient pet.

The temperature around them was both burning hot and ice cold at the same time. Silence hung heavy in the air, only the sound of heavy breaths breaking through.

And then, she heard the unlocking of his belt buckle.

Her eyes went to his waist, as he slowly took off his belt. What he did next made her throat go dry.

Jude tied her hands behind her back with his belt, in a tight grip, while she was still straddling him. His eyes boring a hole through her shaking body.

‘Someone needs to learn how to behave. And a reminder of who she belongs to.’

She wished he would go back to his frenzied ire. Because whatever it is he was doing right now with his chilly even tone was a thousand times more unnerving. She had never seen him like that before.

‘This dress……was to be worn for me. But now, you’ve ruined it.’

She guessed his next move, but before she could utter a word in protest, strong hands ripped through her dress. Forcefully and mercilessly. Like that garment had personally offended him somehow.

Ananya saw the remnants fall over the floor of the car in a pile, swiftly followed by her lace panties. It was a shame; she really liked both of those. He had bought them both for her.

Jude looked at her now naked form, while she still hid from his gaze.

He tapped on her lips with two fingers, gently. Then shoved them inside. Spreading her legs with his other hand, he shoved two fingers inside her wet, tight, leaking heat. Then latched on to a nipple with his teeth. Her resulting cries were muffled with his fingers in her mouth.

She was helpless, unable to do anything but to let him have his way. Whining & moaning through it all.

Jude’s hands worked at fast pace, sending her into an overdrive. Then, he switched both hands, making her taste herself on his fingers. As his mouth paid equal attention to both nipples.

She shuddered violently when his thumb found her clit, as his fingers scissored her mercilessly. And she came on his fingers while screaming his name, falling over his chest, as he made her suck the fingers clean.

Jude gave her precisely 10 seconds to catch her breath, while he unzipped his trousers.

Immediately after, she found herself being brought down over his rock-hard dick, whimpering all the way through. As always, she struggled to take him all in, especially with this angle, and he revelled in the sight, getting extra hard by it, finally nudging his way in.

She had never been rendered this helpless before. Her legs were cramping and her arms were immobile as he bounced her up and down relentlessly, like a maniac. The overstimulation making her eyes water.

His mouth travelled through her torso, leaving angry marks on her sensitive skin. It was pointless asking him to go easy so she didn’t even try.

But when his thumb found her clit again, forcing her towards another orgasm while he was still nowhere near his, she begged him to slow it down. He went just a tad slower, just to humour her but the pressure made her head spin. He was playing her body like a pro, applying just the right pressure at all her sensitive spots together, wrecking her completely. While she was just a helpless doll in his lap.

Jude looked at her bouncing body, swollen & sweaty with his attention, just how it should be. Instead of slowing it down, he increased his pace. And the pressure of his fingers and teeth.

Ananya cried out in painful pleasure.

She knew what he wanted. She had been fighting hard not to give him the satisfaction. But she was close to shattering again. And he would keep going like a madman till he extracted what he wanted from her. He’d somehow push out his own release and she was nearing the brink of passing out from overstimulation.

After a long time, she looked straight into his eyes.

‘I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry?’

‘Yeah, what for?’

‘FOR EVERYTHING.’

She cried out with an extra hard thrust.

‘More specific.’

He wouldn’t let go, not even now, not when he had her completely at his mercy, not when she was meeting him 80% of the way.

‘For….the bartender…the waiting…the dancing…the fighting…..the dress…..the bra…just…..please Jude.’

Her helpless moaning of his name and the sheer submission of her body did the trick.

Jude undid her wrists, and brought them around his neck, stroking the bruised areas softly.

She sought out his lips for comfort and he kissed her back slowly, while still bouncing her rhythmically on top of him. Sweaty limbs intertwined.

Their lips found their familiar motions as her nails dug into his shoulders. He sighed at the sensation. Both nearing their peaks.

‘Dove?’

Her heart swelled at the fondness in his tone and the use of her nickname.

‘Yeah baby?’

Their eyes met. How she could just drown in those honeyed orbs and never come back for air. What a sweet demise that would be.

‘Nothing happened with those girls. I didn’t want them.’

Her heart threatened to leap out of her chest now. And her tears spilled for a different reason. He kissed them away, peppering her face with kisses.

‘I know baby. I know.’

She hugged him tightly, as he rocked them both to their pleasures, coming down from their highs while still clinging to each other.

A few minutes later, he unwrapped her from around himself, covered her in his jacket, and carefully picked her up to carry her to bed, tucking her in.

As he slid under the covers and came to hold her, she stopped him with a hand to his chest.

Confused, he searched her face but came up with nothing.

‘What?’

‘You need to go back to the car now.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I don’t want Agnes to find my torn clothes tomorrow.’

‘I’ll do it in the morning.’

‘We might end up sleeping late and he comes in early.’

‘You want me to go down right now?’

‘Won’t you? For me?’

‘Fine. Whatever.’

She smiled as he stomped his feet all the way down to the car, making his displeasure known, but still keeping her wish.

..........................................................

There you go.

I had no plans for Part 2 but your enthusiasm made it happen.

Let me know your thoughts / comments :)

#jude bellingham #real madrid #bellingham #jude #jb5 #jb #jude bellingham smut #jude fanfic #bellingham x reader #star crossed lovers #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham blurb #desi girl #jude bellingham angst #jude fic

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sturnioloskyline · 1 year ago

Note

HEYYY QUEEEEEN could you do a story where y/n is a the triplets little sister and is dating Nate and they don’t know and he wanted her to do the deed in his jersey and forgot to take it home and the triplets see it and they get mad

“what are you wearing?”

pairing: nathan doe x fem!reader

warnings: secret relationship, language, smut, p in v, unprotected(ur on the pill), aftercare, confession, lowk long

summary: nate won his hockey game, and celebrates by paying you a visit in the middle of the night. but what happens when he leaves a souvenir behind for your big brothers to find?

thank u for the request, anon! 🪷

"nate!" chris cheered, running to his best friend to engulf him in a hug. nathan had just walked through the front door of your house, making his way to the kitchen with his arms open. chris practically tackled him to the floor.

"chris! hug him, don't fuckin' attack him," nick scolded, making his own way over to embrace nate.

nate had just come over from his hockey game, one of the most tense matches yet. the scores were close, but nate led his team to victory by scoring a last-minute goal. he was the star of the night; no one could stop talking about him.

you couldn't be more proud of nate. you knew how hard he had been training for this season, and your heart was full knowing that he was getting the appreciation he deserved.

being only a year younger than the triplets, your relationship with them was very close. most of the time, all of you hung out together and shared the same friends, so nate had become one of your best friends too. what your older brothers weren't aware of, though, was the fact that you and nate had been dating for the past few months.

keeping your relationship a secret from your brothers was more convenient for the both of you. you and nate were probably their best friends aside from each other, so they were very protective over you both. nick, matt, and chris had numerous conversations with you about dating boys, constantly lecturing you about being careful with who you choose to date. you'd also overheard the conversations they had with nate, reminding him to never settle for a girl who didn't meet his expectations.

it was safe to say that both of you were way too scared to tell the triplets about your relationship, so you just snuck around them. nate would sneak into your room late at night for movie dates, lie about extra hockey practices to take you on dates, and sit across from you at group dinners so he could playfully kick you under the table.

nick hugged nate tight, patting him on his back. he pulled back, and matt emerged from the kitchen to greet nate as well.

"wow, it's like i gotta whole entourage," nate chuckled, pulling matt in for a hug.

"well, you killed it out there tonight," matt smiled into his friends shoulder, squeezing him tightly. "you deserve it, dude."

nate peered over his friends shoulder to look at you, smiling when he saw your figure leaning against the counter. he pulled back from matt, reopening his arms and appraoching you. you broke into a grin, running up to him and wrapping your arms around his torso. nate gave you a quick affectionate squeeze, pulling away to not raise suspicion.

"good job nate," you smiled up at him, stepping back and clearing your throat slightly. just being in close proximity of nate made your cheeks flush pink and your heart swell. something about nate's presence just brought the giddiness out of you, making it ten times more difficult to hide your feelings for him around your brothers.

"thanks, y/n," nate smiled back, a glint of mischief in his eye. you could practically feel the butterflies swarming in your stomach, quickly looking at the floor before you could start blushing profusely.

"here, come to the kitchen," nick said, putting a hand on nate's shoulder and leading him inside. you, matt, and chris followed closely behind.

"what's that?" nate said, noticing a plate covered by a large bowl in the middle of the counter.

"oh, mom and dad aren't here but they wanted to say congratulations, so they got you a cake." matt explained, walking behind the counter and carefully lifting the bowl.

at the mention of the absence of your parents, nate and you made eye contact, a slight tension building in between you two. you quickly tore your eyes off of him, not wanting to get worked up in front of your brothers. nate smirked at your reaction, shaking his head softly and turning back to his friends.

"looks great," nate mumbled, barely glancing at the chocolate cake marylou had made. it wasn't that he wasn't appreciative of the gesture, his mind was just way too preoccupied. you and nate hadn't had the opportunity to hang out one-on-one for a while, and it was painful to be so close without the ability to show your affection for one another.

the five of you decided to split the cake and watch a movie in the living room. chris sat in between you and nate, causing the two of you to share longing glances with each other all night. you grew more and more annoyed by the minute, wanting nothing but to melt into nate's arms and stay there for the rest of the night. nate had his own attitude, showing no interest in the movie.

"dude, you good? you've been sighing the whole time." chris nudged nate, who seemingly snapped out of a trance.

"what? oh, yeah, sorry. just tired," nate said, rubbing his eyes. you saw right through him though, knowing that there was no way he was sleepy this early in the night. "might go home soon, actually."

"oh, okay," chris nodded, reaching for the remote and exiting from the movie. you stood up, smoothing out your pants and turning to your brothers.

"yeah, i'm tired too. i'm gonna go to bed," you said, bending down to give chris a quick hug and giving the rest of them a quick wave. "goodnight guys!"

"night y/n," the four of them replied. you smiled and turned away, rushing to your room. as soon as you shut the door you pulled your phone out of your pocket, opening your texts with nate.

y/n

pls tell me ur gonna come over tn

i miss u

nate 💕

ofc baby

be there in like an hour?

y/n

perfect :)

you smiled, feeling a weight lifted off of your shoulders. you flopped onto your bed with a sigh, scrolling through tiktok while you waited. you stayed alert, listening for your brothers footsteps as they headed into their own bedrooms for the night.

you grew more and more antsy as you waited for nate, dying to embrace him. you decided to get up and change to pass the time. you put on a sports bra and some pyjama pants, knowing that it was one of nate's favorite outfits on you. you went back to the bed, shutting your ceiling light off and turning on a lamp instead.

soon enough, you heard three rapid knocks on the glass of your window, indicating that nate was there. you practically jumped up, rushing to the window and pushing your curtains back, grinning when you saw nate standing outside, still in his hockey uniform. you pushed the window open, reaching out to pull nate into your room.

"woah! someone's impatient," nate teased, hopping over the window ledge and into your room.

"shut up," you rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around nate's neck. he places his hands on your hips, leaning down to press his lips against yours. you hummed, smiling and melting into him.

"missed ya so much," nate mumbled against your lips. you blushed at his sweetness, hugging him tighter.

"you didn't change?" you pulled back, looking nate up and down, noticing he was still in his hockey clothes. nate shrugged, peeling his jersey off of his body. you watched, mesmerized. nate took his jersey and brought it up to your head, sliding the shirt onto you. you quickly stuck your arms though the holes. the jersey completely englufed you, reaching your upper thigh. nate giggled at the sight.

"you look so cute," nate said, bringing his hand up to your cheek and pushing hair out of your face. you felt heat rush to your cheeks, and nate immediately noticed. "what? why're you blushin'?"

"i dunno, you just have that effect on me i guess," you mumbled. nate grinned, pulling you back up into a kiss. he parted his lips. slipping his tongue into your mouth. you eagerly accepted, sliding your own tongue against his. nate let his other hand trail down your ass, giving it a squeeze.

you moaned into nate's mouth, reaching your hand up to the back of his neck, tugging on his hair. nate groaned, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

"nate," you whined, feeling a warmth grow in between in between your legs. you grinded your hips forward into nate's, causing him to moan softly.

"you don't know what you're doin’ to me, baby," nate whispered, pushing your hips into his so you could feel his hard dick pressing against you. you whimpered, reaching down to the hem of of his shirt. nate pulled back, allowing you to pull the shirt up and off of him. you watched in awe, admiring his toned body. you reached out and ran your hands down his bare torso. you stopped at his pants, hooking your fingers into the band of his boxers and pulling him closer. nate slid his own hands under his jersey on your body, rubbing your waist just above your pants.

nate walked you over to the end of your bed, lightly pushing you back. you fell against the mattress with a soft giggle, causing nate to smile down at you. he reached for the waistband of your pjs, leaning down to kiss you as he slid your pants off of your legs. you shuddered at the cold air against your bare skin, pressing nate's body closer to yours to absorb his heat.

nate spread your legs apart, standing in between them. he reached down and fumbled with the tie of his sweatpants, frantically tugging them off along with his boxers. you watched as his dick sprung out and slapped against his stomach, his tip pink and oozing with precum. you squirmed, growing more desperate for nate.

nate bent down to place soft kisses on the plush skin of your thigh, gently hooking his fingers in your panties. he slowly slid your underwear down, pulling them off and discarding them somewhere around the room. you bucked your hips up in desire, but nate’s hand came down to your hip, pinning you down.

“i know, baby,” nate mumbled, standing up and climbing on top of you. nate propped himself up with his hands on either side of your head, his cock resting against your stomach. you whined desperately, wanting nothing but to feel nate inside of you.

“please, nate,” was all you had to whimper out for nate to line himself up with your entrance. nate moaned at the feeling of your wet folds, biting his lip as he slowly pushed himself inside of you. you reached up to the back of his neck, pulling him down so you could kiss him. nate sloppily moved his mouth with yours, your tongues messily moving together as nate thrusted deeper inside of you.

you winced at the feeling of nate stretching you out, not used to the size of his dick even after having sex with him countless times. nate let out a strangled groan as he sunk deeper into you, feeling your plush tight walls hug his cock so perfectly. you reached down to nate’s back, raking your fingernails up his smooth skin.

nate's tip grazed past your g-spot, causing your back to arch in pleasure. nate grunted, moving to kiss your neck. nate stilled when he bottomed out inside of you, waiting for your signal. he pulled back to look at you. you peered back up at nate, bringing your hand to his cheek and stroking his skin, gently nodding to give him the go ahead. he reconnected his lips with yours, slowly beginning to thrust into you.

you let out a sigh of pleasure as you felt nate rock into you, gaining speed with every thrust. a pressure began build in your stomach, your own hips grinding up to meet nate's. nate let out a shaky breath, tucking his head into your neck. you let your head fall back onto the mattress so that your neck was more exposed nate took his opportunity, latching his lips onto the skin just above your collarbone and sucking harshly enough to leave a mark.

"fuck, nate," you whimpered, bringing a hand to the back of his head and tugging on his hair. nate kissed the bruise on your neck, moving to rest his head on your shoulder. he brought his hands down to your hips, pushing his jersey slightly up and pinning your hips down.

you gasped as nate suddenly shifted his pace, now fucking you faster and deeper than before. you dug your nails into his back, leaving long scratch marks. you couldn't help yourself, throwing your head back and letting out a moan.

"nate! oh my g—" nate clapped a hand over your mouth to quiet you. you continued to moan into his hand, causing blood to rush to nate's cock.

"don't want your—fuck—brothers to hear, do ya?" nate breathed out. you let out a muffled whine as nate bit his lip to suppress his own noises.

"nate, fuck, please don't stop," you spoke into his hand, squirming as you felt your orgasm approach. nate's thrusting grew sloppier, soft grunts escaping from his throat. he removed his hand from your mouth, leaning down to kiss you again. he brought his hand to yours, interlocking your fingers and giving your hand a gentle reassuring squeeze.

just seconds after, you felt your orgasm wash over you. you kept your lips on nate's, allowing him to swallow your noises of pleasure. nate's hips stuttered and stilled as he came inside of you, breathing shakily against your lips. he stayed there for a few moments, cherishing the feeling of your body so close to his.

nate pulled out slowly, peppering your face with kisses. you sighed with exhaustion but still smiled sweetly up at nate. he moved off of you, turning around, grabbing his sweats and boxers from the floor and heading to the bathroom. he returned with his bottoms on and a damp washcloth in hand. nate stood in between your legs, gently cleaning you up as you caught your breath. nate placed a quick kiss on your inner thigh, before grabbing your own underwear and pants sliding them back up your legs. once he redressed you, nate climbed back over you and kissed your cheek.

"you okay, baby?" nate asked, turning onto his back and pulling you onto his chest.

"mmhm," you hummed, shutting your eyes. nate smiled down at you, kissing the top of your head.

"tired?" nate wrapped his arms around you. he ran his knuckles up and down your back soothingly.

"yeah," you mumbled, burying your face into his chest. nate absentmindedly played with the hem of the jersey your were still wearing.

"y'know, you pull this off better than me," nate chuckled. you smiled into his chest, pulling him closer.

"do you have to go?" you whined, not wanting to let him go.

"you know i do," nate mumbled. you lifted your head from his chest and frowned at him. nate shook his head and placed a quick peck to your lips. "hey, we’re all gonna go out for breakfast tomorrow, so i'll see you then!"

"i know, but i just want to be able to hang out with you like this." you pouted. nate frowned back.

"i know, baby, me too," nate sighed. the two of you laid their in each other's arms for a few minutes before nate had to get up to leave. you pouted as you watched nate put his shirt back on. once he was ready to go, he went up to you, placing a few soft, sweet kisses on your lips. "good night, y/n."

"good night, nate," you replied, a light blush dusting your cheeks still.

...

“y/n, hurry up! we’re leaving soon!” nick yelled through your bedroom door, waking you from you deep sleep. you let out an annoyed groan, rubbing your eyes to adjust to the morning sunlight streaming through your window.

“did you just wake up?” now matt’s voice was at the door. you reached for your phone on the nightstand, unlocking it to see that it said 10:30 am. you had to leave any minute now.

“shit,” you rasped, moving to roll out of bed before you heard the doorknob turn. your head snapped to the door, watching as nick entered the room, followed by matt and then chris.

“y/n, get up! nate’s gonna be here to pick us up soon,” matt scolded. at the mention of nate’s name, you suddenly remembered the night before.

“dude, what are you wearing?” chris asked, noticing an unusually large blue shirt on you that he had never seen before.

“uh, nothing!” you grabbed your comforter and pulled it close to your chest, shielding nate’s jersey from your brothers’ prying eyes.

“is that a jersey?” nick chuckled, assuming that you were just embarrassed to be caught in your sleep clothes. matt however, snapped his head towards you, trying to get a glimpse of what you were wearing.

“blue and red? is that our team’s jersey?” matt asked, stepping closer towards you. you hugged the blanket tighter around yourself.

“no! i don’t know what your talking about,” you said frantically. now all three of your brothers were looking at you, seeing right through your lies.

“y/n, whose jersey is that?” chris asked, his eyebrows furrowing and his face turning into a frown.

“no one’s!” you pleaded, but your brothers didn’t believe you for a second. with that, chris walked up to the side of your bed and yanked the comforter down before scooping his arms under your body and lifting you out of bed.

“chris, put me down!” you yelped, trying to squirm away.

“number 5, isn’t that nate’s number?” nick’s words left the room silent. you froze, not knowing what to say or how to explain yourself. chris silently placed you down on the bed, looking at his brothers in shock.

fortunately, you didn’t have to deal with the awkwardness for long, as the doorbell rung and matt left to answer the door. unfortunately, the person at the door was nate, who matt dragged right back to your room.

nate stumbled in with a confused expression before his eyes landed on you in his jersey. he gulped, looking around to see matt, chris, and nick glaring at him.

“…hey gu—“

“nate, are you fucking y/n?” matt asked bluntly. nate’s eyes widened, glancing over at yours.

“what? no, of course not,” nate defended. your heart was racing. you knew that your brothers weren’t stupid. but you had promised nate that you wouldn’t let them find out, and now this was all your fault.

nate seemed to notice the anxious expression growing on your face, guilt washing over him. he remembered your words from last night, when you told him that you wanted to be able to be with him openly. he sighed, deciding to bite the bullet for both of you.

“y/n and i are dating.” all three of your brothers’ jaws dropped to the floor. you widened your eyes at the confession, making eye contact with nate. he smiled softly at you before looking back at the boys around him.

"WHAT.” matt was the first of them to speak.

“how long has this been going on?” nick interrogated, crossing his arms over his chest.

“um, a few months?” you admitted sheepishly. nick’s jaw dropped once again.

“dude, you can’t date our little sister!” chris said to nate, who scratched the back of his neck.

“well it’s a little late for that talk now,” you rolled your eyes. "can you guys just get out so i can get ready? we can talk about this later."

matt and chris opened their mouth in protest, but nick cut them off before they could say anything.

"yeah, get dressed. nate, let's talk." nick glared at his friend, making his way out of the room and dragging nate out by his arm. as he was being pulled out or your room, nate flashed you a quick grin, and you smiled softly in response. matt and chris followed them out, shutting the door behind them.

you let out a sigh. honestly, you were more relieved now than worried. finally, you and nate could be around your brothers without the burden of keeping your relationship a secret, there had been so many times you just wanted to tell your brothers about how happy you were with nate, but you couldn't. even if your brothers didn't approve of your relationship, there was nothing they could really do about it now.

you quickly brushed your teeth, washed your face, and changed into a nice outfit(composed of your own clothes). you grabbed your phone and slowly opened your bedroom door, peeking out to see nick leaning against the wall, waiting for you.

"ready?" nick asked when he saw you. you nodded. "c'mon, let's go."

you were grateful for nick's calm energy as the two of you walked side by side to the front door. you crossed the lawn to the driveway, where matt's minivan stood, engine running. through the windshield you saw matt in the drivers seat, seemingly scolding nate, who was in the passenger seat. chris was leaning forwards so he could be in between them, butting in to give his own opinions. when nate saw you walk towards the car, he smiled in relief. matt looked up as well, rolling his eyes when he saw you wave at nate.

nick opened the backseat door for you, and chris scooted down to the seat behind matt. you went to the middle seat, nick sitting on your other side and shutting the door. matt began reversing out of the driveway, the car falling into silence.

"sooo guys," you spoke, hoping to ease some of the tension. "where are we getting breakfast?"

"waffle house," chris mumbled, pulling out his phone to connect to aux.

"i love waffle house!" you and nate said in unison. matt groaned, and chris faked a gagging sound. you looked at nick, who bit his lip to keep from smiling. nate giggled, causing you to laugh back.

chris started playing music, and you grew more comfortable, knowing that your brothers weren't super mad. when you got to waffle house, the six of you chose to sit in a booth. matt, chris, and nick sat on one side, leaving you and nate to sit next to each other on the other side. a waitress came by with menus, faltering when she saw the triplets.

"are you guys triplets?" she asked.

"no?" nick feigned confusion, looking at the waitress. the rest of you looked at her with a confused look too.

"o-oh," she stammered, hastily setting your menus in front of you with embarrassment. "um, can i get you guys anything to drink?"

the waitress glanced to you first, pulling out her notepad.

"chocolate milk."

she nodded, looking to nate.

"uh, i'll have chocolate milk too, please." nate glanced at the triplets, whose eyes flicked between you and nate. the rest of them ordered their drinks and the waitress hastily left. you kicked nick from under the table.

"ow!" nick winced, leaning down to rub his shin.

"guys, c'mon, she was so embarrassed," you scolded your brothers for their prank on the waitress.

"it's funny, she'll be fine," chris shrugged, looking over his menu. you rolled your eyes, picking up your own menu and scanning over it. nate leaned over to look at your menu, not bothering to pick up his own.

"what're you gonna get?" nate whispered to you. you pointed to an option, nate nodding in approval. you set the menu down and looked up to see your brothers staring at you, once again.

"what?"

"okay, c'mon guys, they're kind of cute," nick told his brothers, who returned his words with a look of disgust.

"this is gross," chris scowled.

"y'know, for once, i agree with you chris," matt said. you shook your head, looking at nate who had a grin plastered on his face.

"you love us," nate teased his friends.

"dude, shut up," chris scoffed, leaning back into his seat.

"so is this just how it's gonna be from now on?" you asked, looking around at your brothers and boyfriend.

"yup," matt sighed. you looked at him with a smile, and he bit his cheek to resist smiling back, but you could see that deep down he approved.

nate placed a reassuring hand on your thigh, rubbing small circles with his thumb. you smiled up at him your hand sneaking under the table to grab his. nate interlocked his fingers with yours and brought your hand to his lap, keeping it there until the waitress came back with your drinks.

the five of you enjoyed your breakfast together, you and nate occasionally rolling your eyes as your brothers made snide comments about your relationship. you couldn't keep from smiling though, knowing that this was just their way of saying that they were happy for you both.

...

author's note: this is me coming out as a nate girl, through and through. if nate has a million fangirls, i'm one of them. if he has one fangirl, it's me. if he has no fangirls, i'm dead. love u guys, happy spring 🌻 !

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo imagine #nathan doe #nate doe #nathan doe smut #nathan doe x reader #the sturniolo triplets #nate doe x reader

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