#don’t even get me started on when someone starts dating someone

[runariya]

Beyond Probability JJK (m.)

summary: Matching with an idol? Unlikely. But with a 99% compatibility? Beyond probability. pairing: idol!Jungkook x f!reader genre: idolvers, S2L, fluff, smut rating: 18+, MDNI! warnings: fluff, fluff, a bit of self doubt, fluff, fluff, explicit sexual content, shower sex, unprotected sex, pls lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 4k

a/n: It’s a rly cute and short oneshot, light and mainly fluff, nothing too deep, no big words etc this time. Just had to get it out of my system since the idea’s been on my mind for months now (unedited bc I fell ill halfway through writing it 🤒)

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

Your biological clock’s ticking—has been for some years now—and even though you’re only now nearing 30, you’re painfully aware that the life you pictured as a kid might never come true.

It’s not like you’re unstable in who you are or what you’re doing. You’re fairly successful at your job, you’ve got your own place, and you’re more social than most people these days. Still, you’re only what most would call average-looking, and even though you’ve got a good career, you’re too soft to keep it up forever. You picture yourself more as a loving wife and mother than a corporate boss bitch climbing the ladder of success.

That’s also why your dating life has been rocky all along. Men see what you put out there, but they don’t like who you really are or what you want from life, which has left you single for most of it.

So, when a new project starts—after the K-pop industry finally acknowledges that idols need partnerships and a life of their own, and fans finally understand that these people are human too, that they deserve to experience love and happiness like everyone else—you decide to take your chances too.

Funnily enough, all the labels have teamed up, hiring not only the best scientists and psychologists from Korea but from around the world to create a program that can find ideal matches for their idols. Sure, science shouldn’t determine who you fall in love with, but… what if it could?

After being pre-selected—just to confirm you’re not some crazed fan—you’ve spent over two weeks going through tests. Recorded interviews, personality assessments, even physical evaluations… now you’re staring at your company’s computer screen, listening to Dr. Song explain the results through the phone. 

“Ninety-nine percent?”

“Yes. The chances of such a high compatibility score are next to impossible. We see it as a perfect match and would like to introduce you to your match.”

“Sure, of course.” Even though your voice is steady, you can feel your nerves flaring up like never before.

“Is tomorrow at 8 p.m. alright for you?”

“Yes, that works for me.”

“Perfect, we’ll see you then.”

Well, joke’s on you, you didn’t expect this outcome. 

Meeting an idol feels surreal, and the closer you get to 8 p.m. the next day, the more you can feel the anxiety and doubts inside you rising. Every last detail in Dr. Song’s calm, clinical rundown replays in your mind, the ninety-nine percent match, the endless rounds of testing, the surreal realisation that, somehow, all those numbers and algorithms miraculously spat out a name next to yours. 

You want to trust that there’s a reason for this, that somehow science isn’t just working with chance, but the tension of actually meeting someone this special is so overwhelming you barely notice yourself entering the lab building until you’re standing outside Dr. Song’s office.

“Right on time,” she chirps, giving you an approving nod. She seems to sense your nerves, and as she leads you down a hallway you’ve never been before, she gives you a reassuring smile. “I know this is all a lot. But he’s likely feeling the same way. The tests told us that he’s, well, quite like you.”

Her words would make you laugh in any other situation, though disbelief and a strange kind of comfort floods through you still. Like you. An idol, standing here in a lab somewhere to meet some random stranger, feeling just as out of place as you. You’re not sure of that but still like to think it must be true. 

You don’t have time to process it fully before you’re led into a quiet room with yellowish walls so plain they almost blur in the corners of your vision, a low, comfortable couch and a couple of chairs standing there and none of the lab equipment that surrounded you in the testing rooms all those weeks ago. 

And then you spot him, sitting on the couch, alone. He stands the second you walk in, hands half in his pockets, a slight, almost unsure smile grazing his lips as he glances down at you. He’s got that casual look about him, the same dark eyes you’ve seen a hundred times on a screen that somehow feel warmer and more human here. 

He looks not quite better than he does on screen, but not worse either. Somehow, he’s realer, if that’s a word—close enough that you can see the little flecks of colour in his irises, the slight tension in his posture, the faintest trace of nerves hiding under his composure.

“Hi.” Jungkook’s voice is lower, softer than you expect from an idol. “Nice to meet you, I’m Jungkook.”

“Nice to meet you too. I’m ___.” There’s a pause, and you can tell he’s just as unsure what to do with the space between you two as you are. The click of the door makes you turn around briefly, only to realise Dr. Song has left you both alone. “This is, um, weird, right?”

He nods, a quick, breathy laugh breaking through. “Very. I mean, this isn’t exactly a ‘normal’ kind of meeting, right?”

His words are awkward but disarming, and suddenly, you’re aware of all the tiny, meticulous details of him that somehow make him feel more relatable than his polished, on-screen persona. The way his hand keeps moving to rub against his thigh or abs, his tongue playing with his lips and piercing ever so slightly—everything about him is familiar but also somehow close enough to feel completely new.

“I don’t think I was ready for this,” you admit. You aren’t really talking to him but more like letting your own thoughts slip out in the safest way possible, like saying it makes it feel less absurd.

“Honestly, same.” He laughs, and you think there’s a light flutter in your chest now. “I kept thinking about this whole ninety-nine percent thing. Like… how does that even work? Isn’t it supposed to feel, I don’t know, obvious? Like you know the moment you see someone?”

You nod, understanding exactly what he means, and somehow you move on autopilot, walking towards him and sitting down on that couch with him beside you. It feels like you should both somehow know, like there’s a sign or an instant connection, something that would make all of this feel simple, easy. But it’s just the two of you in a quiet room, barely knowing each other, held together by nothing but a number on a report.

“Yeah, that’s so wild. I didn’t think I’d have a match, this close to a hundred even less. Might be a glitch if our score is this high.”

Jungkook nods with sparkling eyes, seemingly relieved by your honesty and humour. “Yeah, I get that. I kept thinking about it too. Wondering if maybe the tests were wrong, or maybe I was just…thinking too much.” He lets out a sigh, his gaze meeting yours for a long, meaningful second. “But I think maybe this is about finding out, right? Not having it all make sense right away.”

“Hm, makes sense.” You giggle, because what else can you do in the presence of him.

The two of you sit there in a momentary silence, as if testing each other, feeling out the small boundaries that keep you both distant.

“So, what did the report tell you about me?” You ask the question half-jokingly, trying to break the quiet, but also curious. You want to know what he knows, how much of this supposed ninety-nine percent compatibility is actually something that either of you feel. 

He lets out a silent breath, looking down as if slightly embarrassed. “Honestly, not as much as you’d think. They told me you were kind of… soft-spoken but resilient? And that you have a job that’s, uh, stable and…” He trails off, the tips of his ears slightly pink, like he’s embarrassed to keep going.

“And?” You can’t help but push further—not maliciously, just way too curious and playful for your own good. Jungkook’s expression shifts from embarrassed to surprised, and then to a look that’s just as playful.

“And that we’re, apparently, very much sexually compatible.”

Really, you should be the one feeling embarrassed or shy now, but you can’t help the laugh that slips out. You know exactly what he’s hinting at—your report clearly showed the same.

“Well, it might be not wrong. And they told me…” You pause, realising that you barely remember the details in the face of the reality in front of you but alas. “They said you’d be a good match because, I think, there was something about humour?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Humour? Never heard of it.” And it makes you laugh all over again. “I feel like they just told us things we’d want to hear, to make it seem easier and normal.”

His words hit close to home, but they’re strangely comforting in the way he says them. You reckon, he’s just as bewildered by this as you are, maybe even more so. And somehow, in the middle of all the awkwardness, you find yourself genuinely smiling at him, naturally gravitating towards him, finding that there’s a softness and reassurance in his gaze, a gentleness that cuts through your nerves like a knife through melted butter in the sun. 

You start talking more freely after that, exchanging stories that are too mundane to make sense in any real context but feel right here. You tell him about your last trip to the beach, how you got sunburned and spent the whole evening sitting on your balcony, nursing it with iced water and aloe, wishing for a helping hand that you didn’t have. He laughs, nodding along as if he can picture it exactly and tells you about how he tried to make pasta he ate in Italy for the first time a few months back and ended up burning the whole batch, because no one was by his side, so badly his kitchen smelled like smoke for days.

The more you talk, the more you notice the little things about him that aren’t so polished, aren’t so perfect, and make him feel more human and real than anyone you ever met. He has a way of listening, eyes intent on yours, like he’s trying to pick apart every word to understand it better. When he laughs, it’s with his whole face, even body, not the careful, composed look of an idol but a natural, carefree laugh that makes you feel like maybe he’s as relieved as you are to be here, to have someone he doesn’t have to impress. 

At some point, you both lapse into a comfortable silence, each lost in your own thoughts but somehow still connected. The tension from earlier has faded away, replaced by a soothing aura you know you don’t want to miss for a day in your life.

Eventually, Jungkook glances over at you, his eyes sucking you in without much resistance. “I kept thinking this would feel forced, you know? Like we’d be sitting here, struggling to find anything in common.” He leans back, drapes his arm around the back of where you’re sitting, glancing up at the ceiling as if searching for the right words. “But�� it doesn’t feel that way. You feel… I don’t know, right?”

The slight flutter in your chest has now swelled into a full-blown hurricane, and you’re not sure if it’s that ninety-nine percent compatibility causing it. But you don’t let yourself think too much—not when you’ve both been inching closer with each word, not when you take a chance and lean in, resting your head against his side. Especially not when his arm settles directly over your shoulder, pulling you a little closer, his other hand finding yours, fingers intertwining just to see how it feels.

“Yeah, it feels right. I really like this.”

As you absently play with his fingers, breathing in his scent for the first time and deciding it’s like heaven, you let yourself trust science. Because this feels like exactly where you’re meant to be.

While the first meeting with Jungkook went better than you’d ever hoped, you’re painfully aware of your overthinking nature. Overthinking in a way that makes it painfully clear there are countless women out there who, on the surface, would seem a better visual match for him than you.

Overthinking to the point where you wonder why Jungkook would even need matchmaking when he could so easily choose a partner on his own. It’s also why staying focused at work isn’t exactly easy today, knowing that soon his label will be sending a car to pick you up for your next meeting with him.

You understand the precautions they’ve taken and completely agree it’s better to meet in a private, safe space rather than making headlines this early on. That’s why, as the tinted car arrives, you feel a bit more at ease than you have all day.

Soon enough, you’re driving down the path to the label’s underground garage, and while you fix your makeup real quick, the car comes to a stop. The driver nods and guides you towards the lift, where the lights are dim and everything has this quiet, professional atmosphere you’ve only seen on screen.

You try to take it all in, letting your thoughts settle just a bit more as you follow through to the hallways upstairs, past doors labelled with room numbers and studios, and then finally, you’re outside the door to Jungkook’s studio, right where you’re supposed to meet.

Your heart beats a little faster as you hear Jungkook’s familiar voice call out, “Come in,” and when you open the door, you find him leaning casually against the chair before his equipment with an easy smile that somehow manages to be both happy and slightly flirty. 

Again, Jungkook’s dressed just like uniquely him, with a few silver rings glinting on his fingers. And while you didn’t think he’d even get up to greet you, he steps forward and embraces you in hug so tight, it leaves you drowning in him. 

“Hey,” he greets with that disarming grin, eyes boring into you, taking in your formal work attire, as he gestures to the coffee set up besides his laptop. “Hope you don’t mind the casual vibe.”

You laugh a little, settling onto the free chair beside him, feeling a bit strange but somehow not. “I think it’s perfect. And to be honest, I don’t think I’d cope well with the whole five-star dining treatment and whatnot.”

He laughs, nodding in agreement, taking your purse from your hands and draping it casually over the back of his chair. The fact that he’s still so attentive, even though he’s clearly in his element here but completely relaxed, is rather fascinating and pulls you in even more.

Like the day before, talking with him comes easy, and while there’s nothing groundbreaking in your conversations, every word feels meaningful in the bigger picture.

Eventually, you feel yourself relaxing like you were at home by your own, getting comfortable enough to let out the thoughts that have been swimming in your head since last night. “I’ve thought a lot about how all of this could play out,” you admit, taking a sip of your coffee, trying to find the right words, though knowing there won’t be any wrong words when talking with Jungkook. “And honestly, I’m not really interested in taking things public if they did work out. I know that’s probably strange to say, but I’m not cut out for the spotlight.”

He tilts his head, watching you thoughtfully. “No, it’s not strange at all. I get it.”

A small smile tugs at your lips as you go on, “I just want something real. A partner who’s loyal, someone who’s there because we get each other, not because we’re some public ‘it’ couple, parading around every chance we get. Does that sound crazy?”

He shakes his head, while he swings from one side to the other.  “Not at all. That actually sounds perfect to me.” There’s a sincerity in his tone that makes you feel, for the first time, like there’s some truth to your report. “The whole ‘idol’ thing is just a job. It’s not who I am, not at the core. And having someone who sees it that way, is what I want too.”

It elates you to know that you could have something like this, with him,  someone you could genuinely share your life with.

Then, in a thoughtful voice, he asks, “What do you want for the future? I mean, outside all of this.” 

You take a breath, feeling a little nervous but wanting to be honest. It’s not like it’s news to him, seeing that this information’s written in the report he was handed. “I want something traditional. A home, a family, maybe staying home with kids, having that steady, grounded life. It sounds simple, I know, but it’s what I’ve always pictured.” You look up at him, expecting maybe a hint of judgement, but instead, you find him nodding, his eyes lighting up like a candle in the night.

“I don’t think that sounds simple at all, but meaningful.”

A shy smile forms on your lips as you add, “Sometimes I feel like people don’t see that side of things anymore, you know? Like everyone’s so focused on careers and success and everything else… and I get that, I do, but I’ve always just wanted something steady. Something I can hold on to.”

His hand finds yours, his fingers like second nature intertwine with yours, and the gesture is so simple yet so heartwarming that you feel like squealing out of happiness. “That’s exactly what I want too.” It’s nothing new to you too, but him saying that, seeing the honesty in his eyes, is better than any data shown to you. “I want that sense of home.”

You feel yourself falling a little harder, a little faster, and maybe that scares you a bit. You’ve seen the kind of attention he gets, the kind of girls that throw themselves at him, and it’s hard not to let those doubts creep in. Especially now. “I know this probably sounds insecure,” you start awkwardly, glancing away, “I think, I don’t know, maybe I’m not the kind of person someone like you would go for. I mean, you could have anyone, and not just because you’re an idol.”

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb tracing soothing circles against your skin. And while his mouth opens to say something, the pull against your hand surprises you as much as him settling you in his lab. “Hey, don’t think like that. I’m here because I want to be. And trust me, I’m not looking for ‘anyone’. I’m looking for someone who gets me. And that someone is you, no?”

The look in his eyes is so genuine, so unguarded, that it’s hard to keep your heart from doing all sorts of stunts. He’s not the polished idol right now; he’s just Jungkook, being flirty, being compassionate, being so him, sitting in a cosy studio with his tattoos, his piercings, his moles, his beautiful smile, his whole presence more comfortable and inviting than you could have imagined.

And as he sits there, looking at you like you’re the only person in the world, you realise that you definitely don’t have to doubt this. Maybe it’s okay to let yourself believe that he’s here because he wants to be, that he’s falling for you irrevocably just as you’re falling for him. 

“Sooo… that means?” You know you need to be brave now, because if this isn’t a dream, you’d never forgive yourself for not taking the leap.

“That means, if you want to, I’d love to have you as my girlfriend.”

“Isn’t it a bit rushed?” You don’t actually think so, but you still need to be sure.

“I’m all in if you are. I don’t want to waste any more time, and even though it’s just a report, I can feel there’s real truth behind it.”

Fast forward seven months, and you find yourself pressed against the shower wall like you do every night. But this time, it’s different—just hours ago, you made your first public appearance on a music show with Jungkook, just because you both felt ready, where he was not only nominated for Best Singer of the Year but won as well.

“Koo, right there, right there.”

It still amazes you how his cock seems to find your g-spot as soon as he enters you, though you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Yeah? Right there, hm? Or is it…” he trails off, shifting his hips ever so slightly, making you realise he’s actually hit the centre point of your g-spot now, his hard, unrelenting thrusts pushing you over the edge without warning.

“Oh my goooddd,” your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open against the cool shower wall, as your cunt keeps gripping him even though it’s already creaming around his cock.

“Good girl, keep going, love. Show me how many you can take tonight.”

There’s nothing you can do, not that you’d want to do anything other than let him rearrange your insides. Especially not when his tattooed hand finds its way from the back of your hair to your jaw, tilting your head to the side, giving you the perfect view of his upper body—rivulets of water cascading down his chiselled form, lips parted, eyebrows furrowed. 

He’s the epitome of perfection. Not just a ninety-nine percent but a hundred. 

His eyes, though hooded, bore into your soul as his hips pick up the pace. It’s this connection you share with him make being with him feel so special.

“Koo…”

“I know, love, just a bit more. Can you be a good girl?”

“Yes,” you moan, because hell, you can. “Yes, for you…ah, winning the trophy.”

Even though you shouldn’t feel his cock twitch with the pace he’s set, you do, realising instantly what he needs tonight.

“Best singer, Koo…fuck…best boyfriend, only fucking me when, hmm, the whole world wants a piece of you.”

“Only you. Always you, ___, love.” You think you catch him licking a drop of saliva from his lips as he stares down at where your bodies connect, sending another wave of arousal from your stretched-out hole.

“You’re so big.”

“Just for you, fuck, squeeze a bit more.”

It’s not that you did it on purpose, but when his hand shoots down to your clit, circling it just right, your body responds as though it’s never felt this good, soaking him even more and gripping him tight as a vice.

“Like that, love, like that.” Jungkook grunts and pants, holding you harder, tighter as his cock seems to swell even more, pumping frantically in sync with your impending second orgasm.

When Jungkook can’t hold back any longer, it’s all you need to let go too, the rush flowing through your veins just as fiercely as the love you feel for this man.

After some time, Jungkook pulls out, helping you straighten up and lean against his chest under the stream. His veiny hands trail down your body, washing away his release dripping out of you, as he plants kisses along the side of your face.

When he’s had enough, he, like always, turns you, brushing the wet strands of hair from your face. And as you do the same to him, captivated by how content and in love he looks, you can’t help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world when, for the first time, Jungkook declares his feelings.

“I love you, till the day I die, ___.”

“I love you too, and beyond.”

Because this, because having Jungkook calling you his, is beyond probability.

a/n 3: lmk what you think in any way you like! ��� If you liked what you read, pls consider buying me a ☕️ Ko-fi.com/runariya 💕

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[thealbatrovss]

waiting // logan howlett x reader

summary: scott and jean get engaged. logan seems happy for them. but old insecurities start bubbling to the surface.

one shot: angstyyyyyy, insecure reader, happy ending of course, not proofread

word count: 1k+

authors note: getting back into writing so here’s a quick one for ya’ll. Enjoy!!!

masterlist

When he made his way towards her, with a big grin on his face, you had to get out of there.

You bumped past friends and colleagues, weaving through the bodies like a hedge maze. The room closed in. Your stomach was raging with alcohol and fire.

It was so childish. Running away from your friend's own engagement party. This night was about them, not you.

But, Logan wouldn't stop talking about how happy he was for them since they made the announcement. You were happy too. Of course you were. They were like family to you. But, was he really content with everything? Sometimes, thoughts that he was settling would cloud your mind.

You’d only been dating for little over a year now, and well, Jean was still Jean. The Jean he loves. Or loved. It was becoming too hard to tell, your head starting spinning.

The night air hit your face. It was cold, too cold to be out at a time like this. But at least there was space. Space to hold yourself on the mansion's steps and think about everything swirling in your mind.

You knew holding her up on this pedestal wasn’t fair to her, to Logan and especially yourself. But sometimes, wounds that were once sealed up and packed away, came around visiting again.

He spent years harboring feelings for her. You just stood there and watched it. Until one day, you were grabbing a late night snack from the kitchen and saw Logan sitting at the table.

And he was no longer sulking. No longer chasing after someone who was always going to pick someone else. He smiled, and told you to sit and have a beer with him.

It wasn’t an odd request. You too were friends after all. But, you ended up spending the entire night talking. You asked him about his past and he was completely honest. He asked you about yours, barely ever looking away from you as you rambled on. Logan had a soft smile on his face the entire time you talked.

The two of you moved closer together as the night progressed into the early morning. By the time students began pouring in for breakfast, your chairs and shoulders were touching. He walked you to your room that day, asked you out to dinner. You had your first date at a bar. Jalapeno poppers and chicken sandwiches. The waiter accidentally spilt his tray of drinks on Logan trying to squeeze through the aisle.

When Logan kissed you for the first time in his car, you could feel the sticky drinks stuck to his leather jacket and skin.

The door creaked open behind you. Footsteps stopped at the steps above. You could smell that familiar wood and cigar smoke. It has stuck to you ever since that night in his car. “Its fucking freezing out here.”

You brushed away a fresh well of tears, hoping they’d dry quickly so he couldn’t tell. “You’re right about that.” You sniffed. But it was your voice that gave it away.

“Whats going on?” He sat down next to you. “Could you look at me?” He moved your hair away from your face, fingers grazing the wet skin. He paused. “Can you please talk to me? Why are you crying?”

You tried brushing his hand away, making yourself smaller against the stone wall. You pushed the side of your face into the rock, like it would magically make you disappear.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know whats going on.”

“I’m just drunk.” You tried to play it off. Not good enough.

Logan shook his head. “No. That's bullshit. You’ve been acting weird all day.”

The air kept getting colder. You started shivering. Logan cursed underneath his breath, taking his jacket off and draped it over your shaking shoulders. The simple gesture made you feel even smaller. “Do you ever wish things could be different?”

Logan looked at you confused. “What kinds of things?”

You sat up, knees facing away from your boyfriend. “The people you let into your life.”

“No.” He answered quickly. “I only let in people who let in me. Like you.” He smiled at the memory of spilt beer and messy kisses in the parking lot. “So no. Why? Do you?”

You huffed. “I find that hard to believe and I hate myself for it.”

Logan sat there bewildered. You’d always been open and honest with him about everything. You even opened up to him about your insecurities surrounding his relationship with Jean the first few months into dating. The realization washed over him as he watched the party goers mingle inside. “You still think I have feelings for Jean.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

The wind picked up, sending its sharp claws against your wet cheeks. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“No. I just don’t understand.” He sighed. “Why would you think that? I’m with you. I wouldn’t be if I didn’t want to be.”

The drinks settling in your stomach did the talking for you. “Well, if she wasn't with him things would be a lot different, wouldn’t they?” Your tone was as cold as the wind. You didn’t mean it to be.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You gripped his jacket tight around you. Holding onto it like you did when you first kissed. “Sometimes, it’s hard to accept your love.”

He didn’t respond, just let you continue. His hand started rubbing circles on your back.

“I feel like I’m taking something that isn’t mine.” Maybe if you were sober you could explain it better, but you carried on. “Or, I’m just holding my breath. Waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

You’d feel more embarrassed without the alcohol running through your veins. But you sat there as tall as you could. Letting the insecurities bubble out in circles of angry shades of red. It wasn’t pretty, but it was real. It was what you’ve been bottling up for years now. “Waiting for it to go to its true destination.”

Logan looked up at the night sky. The wind ruffled his short hair. He looked so handsome in that all black suit he wore. One that you picked out just for him. He chuckled to himself, his eyes finding yours with a piercing gaze. He faced those words, seeing past the surface.

“I loved Jean once. That's the truth. But I’ve loved people before her. I’ve been alive for a long time.” He moved strains of hair from your face, resting his hand on your cheek. “But here’s another truth. I love you. Can’t you see that? Right here and now?”

You could see the genuine look in his eyes. You could always see it.

“And that’s not something I just give away. It’s also taken from me. You’ve taken it from me. And I’ve never been happier for you to have it, like I have yours.”

You nodded, sniffling. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, pulling you against his chest. “Don’t be. Just maybe next time, talk to me about this instead of holding it all in.”

You buried your head into his chest. Voice muffled against the dark fabric. “Says Mr. Wall builder himself.”

Logan kissed your head, fighting back the wind and a fit of laughter. “You got me there.”

[maybefae]

Blessings Coming In!

Pile 1 - Pile 2 - Pile 3

Remember, this is a general reading and it may not resonate for everyone or completely. Tarot is a tool to help guide but you are responsible for your actions and life, you choose your path.

Tips!

Pile 1

Tarot: The Empress, Ten of Wands, Nine of Pentacles, Three of Swords, Knight of Pentacles, Page of Pentacles, Four of Swords, Queen of Pentacles, Five of Cups, Knight of Swords, The Hanged Man and Three of Wands

Oracle: Seeds (New Ideas, hope, open-mindedness), Oak Tree (power, courage, strength)

You’re getting your mojo back! You could be getting over some heartbreak, probably losing a couple of friends or a relationship. Or you had finally cut off people that weren’t healthy for you. I see this heartbreak happening before this reading and you come to this reading in the process of figuring things out. That’s not to say that you don’t go through moments of grief though. I see you working your abundance, things that fill up your cup. This takes many forms. But I do see you also taking small steps in getting a business or project started and out into the public and I do see this growing faster than you expected! The love and work you put into it will pay off and your doubts will be soothed over from the response you get. 

For the people who are trying to get back out there to find friendships/a partner, I see you taking a very lighthearted approach. You aren’t putting your full heart into them just yet but you are being open, friendly, and slow-burning the progression. You’re feeling very sure of yourself, trusting yourself, and finding the courage (even if it’s a little nerve-wracking) to open up your heart again to new connections. These people could be completely different from who you’re used to connecting with, types of people that you could’ve always wanted to connect with.

For those dating around, I see two different people. One is very grounded, maybe even slow-moving, and you are probably not sure if they even have feelings for you or if they are emotionally available. But I think they have high standards and are as cautious (albeit open-minded) as you are. The other likes what they see, and they are probably very cheeky and knows how to talk to you. Very cunning. May have really intense eyes, “bedroom eyes.” I don’t see these two getting far with you since you’re being selective but I think you will have fun talking to them. You are keeping your options open. And since you’re the Empress, you could be looking for someone to fit the Emperor role (any gender). 

Pile 2

Tarot: Nine of Cups, King of Cups, The Sun, Four of Cups, Page of Wands, The Devil, Three of Pentacles, Four of Swords (Reversed), The Tower, The Star, Queen of Swords, Six of Wands

Oracle: Bee (Community, cooperation, sweetness), Autumn (Bounty, balance), Snow (Rest, contemplation)

Before I even pull cards, The Artist card that solely belongs to this deck was shown to me and I head “As an artist myself, I know they can be a little flighty. Head in the clouds.” But I also thought of David Bowie? Some of you could be really successful when it comes to selling your art. And I’m talking gallery level prices in the thousands of dollars. But I suppose this can be applied to any career field. “Six months time.”

Now that I’ve pulled your cards, I can confirm the previous message of money and/or success when it comes to your career coming in. I think this is coming after some burnout, which could be a bad habit of yours that reoccurs. This burnout probably left you uninspired and you could get inspiration back. Easier said than done, but please rest. You can’t do the things you love without rest. There could’ve been a big setback before that left you hopeless and burnt out. But you could be having a moment where it reignites the spark for you and that could feel like the biggest blessing since nothing seems as dull anymore.

I feel like your blessing has everything to do with abundance. Happiness, a resurgence of hope (maybe you get validation that you’re on the right track), and money from something you created from all your love and hard work. 

So, for those wanting a connection (platonic or romantic), I do see that someone could be coming in very out of the blue. I had to pull an extra card and it came out while I was looking away while shuffling. You won’t see this person coming. This could be platonic (friend or work partner) or romantic.

Pile 3

Tarot: Queen of Cups, Nine of Cups, The Sun, The World, King of Cups, The Hermit, Three of Wands, Queen of Pentacles, Nine of Wands, Page of Wands, Five of Cups, The Moon

Oracle: Rain (cleansing, purification, hydration), Sickle (focus, regrowth, letting go), Mushroom (recycling, breaking down problems)

I haven’t pulled cards yet but I am using a deck I haven’t used in a while. As soon as I pulled the cards, I got a whiff of glue.

And now that I pulled the cards, the glue is about uniting. This pile is for the people in long-distance friendships/relationships. After so many tries to finally see them, something always went wrong and you had to cancel plans. This could also be an issue about not having enough money at the time. 

The stars had to align, the moon had to be at a certain lunation…You finally get the chance to see your loved one that’s at a distance! Your wish for that is coming true. In a way, you had to kinda “give up” on the plans and now you are being gifted the opportunities since you weren’t focusing on it heavy. It’s like you had to take care of other things before you could make it happen. 

I’m being advised to tell you not to control it too much! Don’t have a tight grip on plans. Continue to go with the flow and enjoy the present with this person. You will have an amazing time together!

Decks Used: Ophida Rosa Tarot by Leila and Olive, Ethereal Visions Illuminated Tarot Deck by Matt Hughes, Modern Witch Tarot Deck by Lisa Sterle, The Green Witch Oracle by Arin Murphy-Hiscock and Sara Richard

Dividers: @inklore

[starryjake]

all yours | p.j

in which you make jay feel better after he gets into a fight.

pairing: jay x fem!reader

includes: m and f receiving oral sex, mention of fighting, big dick jay, unprotected sex, cumming inside (lmk if i missed anything).

“i can’t believe you, jay,” you said in dismay, pulling out your first aid kid from the closet.

“he was such a fucking asshole,” jay ranted. “douchebag had the audacity to say the shit he was saying and didn’t expect me to beat the shit out of him.”

you huffed, forcing him to sit on your bathroom countertop. you stood between his legs and started wiping the blood from his face while he continued talking.

“he was such a pussy,” jay scoffed. “could hardly fight for shit. needed his friends to back him up since he couldn’t throw a punch for the life of him. and i still beat him in a three versus one fight. embarrassing. honestly, i feel bad fo—”

“jay,” you interrupted, finally getting him to stop talking. “what did the guy even say?”

jay’s jaw clenched as the words repeated in his mind again, the words that made him angry enough to punch the guy right across the face in front of everyone at the party he was at.

“it doesn’t matter,” he grumbled.

“yes, it does,” you argued. “if it was bad enough for you to get in a fight then it does matter.”

jay sighed, speaking quickly when he said, “he was talking about you. disrespecting you. making comments about your body and how since you put out for me, then you’d put out for anyone. i couldn’t just stand there and not do anything, y/n.”

your eyebrows raised. you hadn’t realized that it even had anything to do with you.

“oh,” you said.

you rubbed some ointment over the spots on jay’s face where he was bleeding. he looked up at you in awe, still in dismay over how someone could say such nasty things about you when he knew that all you were was just a sweet, perfect girl.

“no one talks about my girl like that,” he said softly, reaching out to plant his hands on your hips and pull you in a little closer.

you laughed softly through your nose, placing a bandaid on his cheek.

“i’m not your girl,” you reminded.

sure, you weren’t officially dating, but it sure felt like it at times like this. you and jay were…something. not dating, but definitely not just friends.

in a perfect world, you would be dating, but it didn’t seem possible right now.

“i don’t care if you aren’t my girlfriend,” jay said. “you are my girl. you’re mine.”

“okay,” you whispered, your breath fanning his face.

“say it,” he demanded.

“i’m yours,” you said shyly. “all yours.”

jay pulled you in even closer and connected his lips to yours, completely melting at the feeling. he considered himself a strong, tough man, but if there was anything in the world that made him weak, it was you.

he entangled his fingers in your hair, lips moving slowly and carefully against yours, feeling you and tasting you.

you brought your hands down to his firm thighs, resting them there and slowly feeling the fabric of his jeans grow tighter and tighter.

he wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing you against him. he disconnected his lips from yours, moving down to your chin and to your neck. he sucked on the sensitive skin there, leaving bruises right for everyone to see without a care. he needed everyone to know who you belonged to.

you gripped the fabric from the back of his t-shirt and started pulling it up until he pulled away from you in order to take it off all together, leaving him shirtless on your bathroom counter.

unashamed, you took a good look. you shouldn’t have thought he looked good like this. he’d just gotten in a fight but fuck, he looked hot. his lip was split and there was a cut on his upper cheek. he looked all around bruised and it was turning you on more than you would like to admit.

he suddenly stood up from the counter and picked you up like you weighed nothing, easily scooping you into his arms. you buried your head in his neck and inhaled his musky scent as he started walking to your bedroom.

once there, he laid you down on your bed carefully and pressed his half naked body down against yours. you slithered your arms around his neck, pulling him back down to your lips.

he was warm pressed against you, but you needed more. you needed to be even closer to him.

you trailed your hand down his bare torso before landing at his bulge, palming him over his covered erection.

jay sighed into your mouth, pushing his cock into your hand to get more pressure. you squeezed it, feeling the outline clearly from how hard he was.

it didn’t take long for that to not be enough, so jay sat up on his knees in order to unbutton his jeans and pull them down his legs, leaving him in just his black boxers.

you tugged down the waistband enough to release his cock, so hard that it stood straight up. it was long and absolutely the perfect fit for your mouth and hole, like you and jay were truly meant to be.

just looking at his cock and feeling it pulsate in your grip, you craved it in your mouth. plus the way he was looking at you starting to jerk it off made you want to suck him off even more.

you leaned down, holding the shaft as you brought the enlarged tip in your mouth, pressing it against your tongue.

“fuck,” jay grunted, immediately bringing his hand down to your hair to pull it back into a ponytail, keeping it out of your face so considerately for you.

you pushed him further down your throat, squeezing your thighs together at the comforting feeling of having him in your mouth. this was exactly you wanted, to be this close to him.

as you hollowed your cheeks and began gliding your mouth up and down his shaft, he started sliding your sweater up your torso until it was bunched around your neck. you were wearing a thin little lacy bra that barely covered your tits.

jay squeezed your breasts as he stared down at your sucking him off like it was your job. never in his life has he gotten a blowjob even close to the way you gave blowjobs. you seemed like you actually enjoyed it, sucking his cock. you put your all into it while the other girls he’d been with barely sucked it for five minutes, desperate to just get fucked by him.

but you were everything. you enjoyed having the tip of his cock nudge against the back of your throat. you enjoyed the taste of his salty precum dripping down your throat.

you looked up at him through your lashes, moaning around his length like it was pleasuring you to suck him off. this is why you were his favorite.

“shit, baby,” he moaned.

he pulled you by your hair off his dick, caressing your face with his thumb while you caught your breath. he looked down at you in awe, feeling so undeserving to have you treat him so good.

he laid you down on your back and tugged you pants and underwear down in one go. he spread your legs, staring at your pussy which was already wet just from giving him head. he couldn’t resist it, he just had to have a taste.

leaning forward, he licked a stripe up from the bottom of your pussy to your clit, gathering all your wetness on his tongue as he went.

“fuck, jay,” you moaned so prettily.

he lapped at your cunt, his tongue making a wet sound every time he flicked your folds. your body felt like it was engulfed in flames from the sensation of him eating your pussy.

jay gripped your thighs, keeping them from closing in and squeezing around his head. he looked so fucking good between your legs, you couldn’t believe it. his sharp jawline was accentuated as he used the muscles to lick your folds up and down.

he brought his clit into your mouth, sucking on the pretty little nub before releasing it with a pop and going back to licking up and down your soaked slit.

the bruises on his face were more evident now with the time that had passed and you felt bad, partly feeling like it was your fault. you tugged on his hair, pulling him away from your pussy and forcing him to look at you. you traced your fingers over one of the bruises.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, noticing the way your demeanor changed.

“does it hurt?” you wondered.

“no,” he lied.

his face was pulsating. you knew he was lying too.

he sat up on his knees and you joined him at his level, leaning in to his face to plant a soft kiss on each one of his bruises. he absolutely melted, leaning into your touch like you were healing his wounds with just a kiss.

“my sweet girl,” he whispered in utter dismay.

how you could go from getting head from him to kissing his bruises in less than a minute was beyond him.

“please fuck me now,” you whispered back.

and now you were back to being dirty.

jay smirked, pushing you back down onto your mattress. you two rid yourselves out of your remaining clothes until you were both entirely naked.

jay slid his hand up and down his cock a few times before deeming it ready to be inside you. he lined his dripping tip up with your eager hole and slowly pushed inside, feeling your warm walls envelope him.

your eyes were clenched shut from the same pain you always endured when jay first slid inside. he was just too big, but it was one of your favorite things about him. by that point, you two had been fucking each other long enough that you were used to the pain. it didn’t last long anymore.

once he was bottomed out inside of you, he rubbed your stomach, feeling the tip of his cock bulge against your pelvis.

“please,” you whimpered, raising your hips up in desperation.

“i know, sweetheart,” he cooed, caressing your soft skin.

he pulled out slightly before pushing back in, starting his thrusts slow. you threw your head back as he fucked you deeply. you could feel it so much, every time he pushed his cock in and pulled it out, the friction against your walls.

as his thrusts sped up, he brought his fingers down in between your bodies and started rubbing your clit, adding to your pleasure. you clenched around him already.

“feels so fucking good,” you cried, looking up at him above you.

“i know, angel,” he replied deeply. “you’re always so tight for me. so tight and so warm for me, yeah?”

“yeah,” you nodded pathetically, clenching around him again just from the way he was talking to you.

his pace was much swifter then, fast enough that the sound of his legs hitting the back of your thighs echoed in your bedroom. plus, you were moaning like it was your first time getting fucked by him, but it just felt too good every single time. his dick was too good, good enough that you wished you could be his girlfriend.

“you’re so fuckin’ wet,” he grunted. “i can barely keep my fingers on your clit.”

your arousal was literally spilling out around his cock, making your puffy clit almost too slippery to keep his fingers on. you wrapped your hand around his wrist and kept it against your pussy so they wouldn’t slip. jay groaned out at that, at how effortlessly fucking sexy you were.

jay started fucking you as hard as he could then, needing to make a complete mess out of you because you made a complete mess out of him without even trying.

he pounded into your pussy, drilling you into your mattress and all you could do was take it and whine like a cock slut. you did feel like at times, you were a slut for his cock.

“fuck yes!” you cried, nails clawing into his abs. “fuck me! harder, jay!”

he gripped the top of your headboard and fucked you impossibly harder, your entire body jolting with the effort he was giving. your tits bounced right in front of him and his cock twitched, warning that he could cum soon.

“fuuuuck, baby,” he growled, grabbing one of your tits in his hands and squeezing harshly. “love this dick, don’t you? tell me you love it.”

“yes, jay!” you yelled. “shit, i love your dick. oh my god, i need you to fuck me for the rest of my life.”

jay felt like he could black out. you were so perfect.

his abs clenched and he felt it coming fast.

“i’m gonna fucking cum,” he warned, his hips still slamming into you. “where do you want me, baby?”

“inside me!”

jay thought he actually did black out then.

he felt you clench around him suddenly, reaching your orgasm without even telling him. your eyes filled with tears from the mere pleasure of it.

“that’s it, baby,” he cooed, still furiously chasing his own orgasm.

“i love you,” you moaned out as you came around his cock.

jay let out a deep moan, felt his cock twitch one more time inside you, and then he was dumping his big load right inside your pussy.

“i love you,” he replied, holding you close to him as he released everything he had into you.

he came for what felt like a lifetime, intense and exhausting. as soon as he finished, he felt like he couldn’t even keep himself upright anymore.

he pulled out of you, watching the cum spill from your pussy and onto your sheets. he then laid down beside you, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head.

“you’re perfect,” he told you, squeezing you tight and keeping you close. “i love you so much.”

“i love you more,” you mumbled tiredly against his chest.

a few minutes passed without either of you saying anything. he wasn’t sure if you fell asleep or not but he spoke up again anyway.

“i wish you really could be mine.”

-

wait the lore tho?? like why can’t they date!!! idk lowkey thinking of making this a series IDK GUYS!!!

thank you for reading <33

[citrinae]

forgive me, for i love being bad for you.

sanji x reader (ft. platonic!zoro)

summary; everyone agrees that you and roronoa zoro are like two peas in a pod: cool, unbothered, hitting pubs on the regular. everyone, except your boyfriend sanji—who’d try anything to distract you from your visibly chaotic lifestyle. even visiting a potion shop. or: sanji needs to get out of his head in four acts. 

contents; angsty vibes, lowkey love triangle, miscommunication™, abandonment issues, drinking, sex pollen, a little dubcon tbh, piv, oral sex (both receiving), facesitting, multiple orgasms, creampie, college/modern!AU, witch!sanji, jealous!sanji, afab!reader, wc: 7.3k (wheezes), mdni. spooky carnival is still in town, go catch it if you’re in for a bad time.

masterlist.

i. 

Zoro sets his glass back on the table with a forceful clink. There’s liquor rolling to the corner of his lips. 

“I still don’t get it,” annoyance hangs from his voice as he speaks. “How the fuck you put up with him?”

Your reflection looks back at you from the amber in your glass. 

“He’s sweet and he cooks for me,” you mean it. Despite Zoro’s lack of trust in your newfound romance, slightly taking to repulse, Sanji has been nothing but a dream to you. Resting his cheek on yours as you were watching some movie you borrowed for the night, swinging hands as he took you grocery shopping. Everything about him buzzes with the type of comfortable affection one meets in magazines, or in Christmas commercials, and you’re sure to fall harder for him by the day. “Have you taken the time to cook for someone you dated?”

“Yeah?” Zoro washes the accusation away with another sip. “You into cooks?”

“Apparently.”

“‘s he a good cook?”

A smile, prideful. “Nothing but a wizard in the kitchen.”

“Christ, you’re even starting to sound like him,” he teases further. “Putting random words together and expecting to make sense.”

“He’s a good cook, Zoro,” you tell him again. 

There’s a pause. 

“No kidding.”

At a loss of what to say, you clumsily try to fill the silence.

“Yeah.” 

“As long as you like him or whatever,” defeated, waving his hand. “Just keep him outta my sight, will you?”

“Deal,” you say, downing your drink as you do. Bitterness lingers on the roof of your mouth, throat burned and numbed out. Suddenly your mind wanders somewhere else. “Care for another round?”

Zoro’s smirk is sly, devilish. “Now that’s more like my language.”

So you get yourselves a second refill that turns into a third, and a forth, until there’s no more use to bother about keeping count. Your surroundings seem to start whirling for a second. You close your eyes, then open them. And everything gets back into place.

On the day you met him, somewhere around campus, basking in the sun like a stray cat on trim lawn, you and Zoro hit off immediately. Scruffy hair, bomber jackets, eyes looking like he’s about to fall asleep any minute, Zoro is the type to never dwell on things for longer they’re worth. Always a guy of instinct, speaking truths others might opt to stay away from. On the other hand you have a knack for chaos he easily complements, so for over a year now he’s been a good and loyal friend to you, your time together something neither of you would regret or give up on.

He’s the one who introduced you to Sanji. Now it’s clearer to you that Sanji had most probably asked him to. Neither of them expected it when you agreed to go out with him, “It’s just a fucking date, chill out. Free meal you know?”; and to your own surprise, your heart skipped a good beat when you saw him that night.

Sanji. Annoying, perverted, absolutely fucking delusional Sanji, lighting up a cigarette in front of his car. Light fell nicely on his rings as he kept a hand around a flower bouquet—the pretentious kind, with a wrapper and ribbon and all. Red button-up, black jeans, coat. Heart-warming smile. 

Everything about the scene felt like something taken from those really sugary rom-coms you and Zoro make fun of when drunk. Yet somehow you admired Sanji for putting in the effort. His hand quivered on the door handle, “You look sensational, my dear.” Adjusting your seat belt, you told him that he didn’t look so bad himself, and by the pink crossing his face as you did, you deduced he might not be used to having flattery thrown his way. 

At dinner he told you he was raised in a small restaurant down east, and that they sold soy wax candles and herbs right next door. Wiping up your mouth with a handkerchief, you tried to come up with a quip around it, “And you stocked healing crystals and runes as well, right?” But then he just propped his hand in a palm, a wide smile blooming on his face that made you unsure whether he was playing along with the narrative or simply felt happy to talk about his past. “Sometimes we did, yeah. But we were more into the culinary side of things.”

When, a couple days later, you told Zoro that you and Sanji had spent the night together, he didn’t hesitate to let you know that he thought it a bad idea. He warned that Sanji was weird—not in the sense that he had a wandering eye or spent a rent-worth on cigarettes. He was simply weird. Fingers drumming on wood, “Caught him mustering some nonsense crap to a jar once. Like he was enchanting it or something.” Soon you were reliving the conversation you had on your first date. “You mean he’s, like, Sabrina the Teenage Witch?” Zoro didn’t catch it. “Who?” he said, and you waved him off. “Nevermind.”

The sneer he wore back then was similar to the one he makes now, seeing the blue light of your phone fill the room with a notification. 

“It’s him,” you say, fingers instinctively hovering to your lock screen. Neither can you help looking at the hour displayed in blinding white: 01:51 A.M. 

Zoro keeps himself from rolling his eyes. “Tell him I’m bringing you to your dorm.”

You text; the reply comes in a beat. 

“He asks if you even know where my dorm is.”

“Of course I—” Zoro clicks his tongue. Then he snatches the phone from your hands and presses ‘record’. “Of course I know where to go you jackass,” he snarls, throat pulsing. 

Taking your phone back, you check the message popping in not long after. “He says he’s coming over.”

“Fine then. Whatever.” It’s low. He sounds irritated. “Let’s pay and we’ll wait for your princess outside.”

And that’s exactly what you do; take care of the bill, grab your jackets and throw yourselves out. Feeling the crisp air on your cheeks, you realise you’re so much drunker than you’ve felt inside. You’re light, feathery, persistently on the verge of being blown out. Concrete flounders around you and you have to put in some additional effort to maintain your balance. Time becomes harder for you to register or something Zoro has just said made you cackle for too long because here is Sanji, your sweet boyfriend Sanji, parking his car not too far away from your forms. You can tell he put on himself the first things he saw in the wardrobe. His hair is slightly disordered, his step heavy as he rushes to your direction. 

“Evening Angel,” Sanji chirps, pulling you into a hug, and you cannot help but dig your nose into the soft fabric of his hoodie, closing your eyes, glad to finally have something to lean your weight onto. His tone drops when he looks at Zoro. “Mosshead.”

Zoro’s hands are sunk into his pockets. “Told you I got everything under control.”

“Pardon me if I didn’t believe you.” Sanji is sardonic. “Looking at the state of this slump, seems like I was right not to.”

“Not my idea to come here, bitch,” Zoro drones. His breath fogs the air as he speaks. “Next time get your head outta your ass and listen to people before running your mouth.”

Some of Sanji’s cologne still hangs from the soft fabric. “This was the only place that allowed us to play cards,” you say against his chest.

“Aha,” he flattens his hand across your back. “At least tell me you played for money and bled this loser dry. Tomorrow will get yourself something pretty with stupid mosshead pocket change.”

“You done talking?” Zoro says through gritted teeth. 

“Yeah,” Sanji’s lips press into a thin line. He’s slowly urging you towards the car. “We’ll be off in a beat.”

“We didn’t play for money,” you tilt your head to look at him, trying to match his steps as you distance yourselves from the pub. 

“What a pity.” Between wry and affectionate. 

You raise a loose fist in the air. “Till the next one, Zoro!”

“See ya daredevil,” Zoro shifts his weight from one leg to another. “Tuck your princess in and give him a sweet goodnight’s kiss, yeah?”

“Fuck you,” Sanji heaves, closes the door behind you. 

On the way to your dorm, he doesn’t ask about how many you had or lecture about being alone—with Zoro—late at night. Why would he? He’s aware this is a part of you, and he’d lie if he said he doesn’t melt watching the glimmer in your eye and your lips curling into a wicked smirk each time you tell him how much fun you had. Though he does worry about you, sometimes, when you willingly throw yourself in all kinds of dangerous shenanigans. Seeing your head slipping down the backrest, silently Sanji casts a spell on your eyelids to make sure you sleep unbothered until tomorrow morning. Tucks some strands of hair behind your ear, yet his eyes are still fixed on the road, and his hands are both rested on the steering wheel. 

Normally, he wouldn’t have been so exhibited with his magic had you been awake. But for now he takes the liberty to carry himself as if he were alone or in the company of the shitty bunch at the Baratie that taught him the craft to begin with. Foliage and plains and cottages move remotely in his wingspan while he continues to think of you. Your smile, your laughter, the nonchalant way you coil your arms around his own to show you around the places that you have so many stories to tell about. To him you are a bundle of new experiences and joy, something pleasant and airy he wishes to emanate himself someday. Always honest, always so easy to approach. Dandelion seeds whirling loosely in the wind. 

But the one thing he cannot seem to take his mind from is that having a bent for partying also means having a bent for Zoro. 

Lazy, shabby, perpetually absent-minded Zoro. 

His hands tighten on the steering wheel. 

Sanji has never really liked the guy, for reasons he doesn’t have the time or energy to list. Tolerance is perhaps too much to describe the compromise he’s willing to take; but he attempts it, for your sake. Because no matter how he tries looking at things Zoro adds something to this life of yours he certainly doesn’t have, or doesn’t know how to make up for. No matter how well you fit in his arms, early in the morning with sleep still heavy on your lashes, throaty voice narrating a dream so bizarre it plucks a laughter from his lips, the nights will always be reserved to someone he wouldn’t even bother to understand. Because he doesn’t want to. 

Window rolls down; he lights up a cigarette. 

Moments pass. His car stops by a pair of victorian-esque gates he doesn’t take long to recognise. He carries you on his back all the way to your dorm room, putting to sleep everyone he stumbles upon as he does; he isn’t supposed to be here, and certainly you aren’t supposed to return this late at night. He’s thankful you chose to sleep in the bottom bed. With this thought in mind he arranges your pillow and places you under the covers, slowly, gently almost like you were made of glass. From his tote bag he picks out a flask and a piece of paper he scribbles on: “for your hangover—sanji <3” 

ii.

The sun bleeds through stained glass in dazzling shades of pink and blue and yellow. Wind chimes, cluttered shelves. Dusted books. The air is thick with the smell of wood and incense. Sanji picks at the fingers that he keeps tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. He isn’t allowed to smoke in here, but fuck does he need a drag. Light catches across the variety of bottles and jars lined up in front of him, all displayed in eye-catching colours and labelled in alphabetical order. 

Would I? He tries his best not to pick up the light blue piece lingering a little too at hand not to be a work of fate. Should I? Sanji kisses his teeth; he takes the thing into his palm. 

There’s a piece of paper attached by lace ribbon. Writing is dainty, yet small and hardly intelligible.

Truth shows itself in wicked colours;

betrayal, freedom, promise.

For they who shall drink this wicked brew

take a night in their beloved’s embrace.

Is their bond seen pure and true,

the Garden sees no place for others.

Like the first lovers on Earth— 

runaways from Eden, they shall be.

Sanji takes a deep breath. Flips the flask on all sides, reading and rereading, biting his inner cheek. It’s not like he doesn’t trust you. He does, with all his heart. And yet he cannot help but shamelessly wonder: if Zoro hadn’t introduced you, would you and him have ended up together? Does he stand in the way of something which is meant to be? “I’m pathetic, fuck.”

He tastes blood. 

Talking to you about this is out of the question, since that would mean admitting Zoro is a better match for you. Plus, honesty is one of the things he admires about you. He’s sure you wouldn’t cheat. To bring this up would only lead to conflict and the sort of disappointment he’d rather choke to death than see reflected in your eyes. 

“This shit is ridiculous.”

The flask makes a frail sound as Sanji throws it in the basket. Stomping the floor with his foot, a cold sweat bobbing at his nape, at checkout he’s greeted by a gorgeous woman dressed in a velvet dress and speaking with a faint voice he doesn’t care enough to pay attention to. There’s a black cat sleeping on a shelf behind her. 

“Is this everything you needed?” she asks, carefully placing the goods in a paper pag. 

Sanji drops some cash on the counter and leaves without saying a thing to her. 

iii. 

“What do you think, my dear?” Sanji asks you on the other side of the table. The potion he bought a week ago forms a bump inside the pocket of his dress pants. 

You want to be sure of your answer, so you take another forkful of your food, still steaming hot and methodically arranged on the plate. It’s good. No, it’s tremendously good, better than you imagined it to be. 

“Sanji, this is incredible,” you say, not allowing yourself the time to fully swallow. “And I’m not only saying this because I like complimenting you.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” His face brightens, a mix of pride and the unpretentious joy he takes from cooking to other people. However he still looks to be preoccupied by something else you never find the right timing to ask about. 

Embarrassment hitching up your throat, you drag your fork across ceramic. Sanji stays silent for a moment; his plate is barely touched. In hopes to escape the tension, your eyes wander to look at his curtains, his shelves, an enframed picture with a gruff old man and a much younger Sanji cheerily holding out a slice of lemon cheesecake. The apartment is small, but tasteful, with decent flooring and a rent anyone your age can afford. White walls, light blue cushioning. A closed balcony where he grows basil and rosemary. 

You are going to sleep over tonight. It’s not that you've never done this before; have dinner together before deciding on a movie you’ll never get to watch because his hand grips on your thigh a little too tightly and your knee presses itself somewhere too bold to go unnoticed. But something feels different now, you cannot quite tell why. He feels different. With his avoidant eyes and stuttering words and index finger that frequently climbs to scratch an eyebrow. 

“If you wanted to break up with me you could’ve chosen a café, you know?” you hear yourself saying, arms folded. 

“What?” His chair scrapes the floor; he tries not to cringe from the sound.  “No, no.” It's ferm. It's rushed. “Why would you think that?” goes unsaid. 

Fingertips digging into the table, Sanji doesn't know how he ended up on his feet. He takes the opportunity to take the seat next to yours, plate and cutlery clanking along as he does. “No one's breaking up with anyone, sweetheart,” words fight their way through the knot in Sanji's throat. 

Sanji shoves his fork in his food which now looks less parmigiana and more like something a primary school kid would make for their art class assignment. Fuck, adding wasted food to his trainwreck fog of thoughts is the last thing he wants for tonight. After he swallows it down, his tone finally relaxes. 

“I was actually thinking of proposing something, now that we’re soon to move up to dessert. Something I'd like us to try,” he says. 

It registers quickly. “Like in bed?”

“It might sound a little weird, though.” Sanji avoids meeting your eyes. His chest rises and falls in a disjointed rhythm as he tries his best to empty his plate. 

“I like weird,” you say, propping your head on a fist, curiosity pushing your mouth a little higher. 

He cannot help but mimic your smile. “Well I bought us something.”

“You did.”

“Yeah, I did.” Not wasting any more time, he pulls the flask out of his pocket, displays it on the dinner table—clear liquid bottled in cerulean crystal, ribbon unfastened and label removed. Your eyes widen. “I was doing some grocery shopping, and stumbled upon this,” Sanji explains. 

You take it in your hands, blinking, carefully not to damage the contents. “Is this an aphrodisiac?” 

“You can call it that,” he says. “It stimulates the senses, so everything should feel a little more intense than usual. I know I haven’t been necessarily adventurous with you, dear,” looking into his plate, then at you. Inevitably he starts thinking of Zoro. “Thought maybe I can start from somewhere.”

Your hand reaches his. “You don’t have to go out of your way for me. You’re perfect for me, yeah? And I have fun with you. Lots of it, actually.”

“I know—” heat rising in throat, he reaches to loosen his shirt collar. “I mean, you’re perfect for me, too, hell I cherish each and every moment we spend together. Kind of felt intrigued to experience this with you, is all. However it’s definitely ok and understandable if you don’t feel comfortable doing it.”

Inspecting the flask in your hands, you give it a second of thought. You know the kind of shops Sanji frequents: equipped with dust and smoke and mysteries. The between-buildings types you have asked about before, and received a response either too vague or too straightforward to be taken seriously. Even still, trust has never been an obstacle. You trust Sanji; he has trustworthy eyes and a soothing voice that feels like a kiss on one’s eyelids. He’s good to you, always has been, when he cradles your face in his palms and calls you his sun and moon and stars, stardust dripping from his eyes as he assures you’re the best he’s had. 

“Does this have any side effect or some sort?” you look up to search for his gaze, and like pulled by a magnet Sanji returns it. 

“No,” he says. “Wears off in the morning. Like nothing happened.”

If you don’t end up running to Zoro, that is. There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach as the thought snipes through his mind. He’s not sure how to feel about lying to you, either. But maybe it’s for the best; if it turns out he isn’t your meant-to-be after all.  

Decisive, “Fuck it. Let’s do it, then.”

Sanji’s smirk fades out the anxiety. “In this case our next course will consist of one more secret ingredient.”

Feet swinging, tapping against the floor. Walls drifting apart and closing in. Moments have passed through you like sequences from a dream, and you fiddle with the sleeves of your sweater as Sanji sets the dessert on the table—two delicate things, like they were long intended to play the highlight of your night, light pink and beautifully decorated with dried rose petals and pomegranate seeds. For a minute you marvel at Sanji’s attention to detail, the love he puts into any dish as he turns them into something special and palatable. 

“Baby,” your laugh is a casual play at fragrancy Sanji takes in with a one-sided smile. “There’s no way I can run my teaspoon into this.”

He takes the seat to your right. “The real deal happens when you taste it, sweetheart,” he says, reaching for a teaspoon of his own, strands of blonde hair brushing one cheek as he does. 

And when you eventually do it, run tableware through moulded cream, you relish the sweetness that melts on the roof of your mouth. Sanji asks if you can tell the other thing apart from the dish. You say no, I don’t, do you? I think it’s the pomegranate, he acts like he’s uncertain even though you’re sure it shouldn’t take more than a few seconds. I only used some as decor. But here it’s rather pungent, not that I’m complaining. Child’s play. Halfway through your tasting, a second question comes. 

Do you feel anything? 

I don’t. 

Do you?

No.

Sanji’s heart clutches in his chest. He’s impatient, laughable even, he knows he is, since spells like this should take longer to surface. Three times he mouthed the chant and the potion gracefully vanished into steam as it poured down the servings, no drops left. By the look of that, Sanji might at least expect something to happen. Either bad or reassuring. 

Yet you stay your familiar comfortable selves even after you’ve eaten the whole thing, carrying on as such when you help him—at least attempting to, he never lets you lift a finger—clean the table and watch him washing the dishes from one of his counters. Sleeves pushed to elbows, fingers sunk into the sponge, hair pushed into concentrated, concentrating eyes. Water rolls off his wrists—drip, drop. He tells you something, but you cannot hear him. It hovers towards the ceiling and in the back of your head, a muffled sound engulfing you not less like the numbing feeling of being underwater. Shamelessly you ask him to repeat. 

Okay, maybe you do start feeling some way. 

Sanji turns off the tap. A crushing silence. 

“I was wondering if you thought of something to watch tonight,” he turns to look at you, and stops. 

He cannot tell if it’s your eyes, suddenly looking bigger, or your collarbones, stretching in and out in anticipation, wet lips looking wetter, slightly parted as you breathe, but he feels helplessly drawn to you, like you’ve been tied up by some invisible rope that keeps rolling up, more and more, thinning the space between your bodies. Air catches in his lungs as he lets himself be torn apart by his awe and not knowing what to do with it. 

Just as indiscreetly you wrap your eyes around his shoulders, his chest, his biceps, looking so much more strained under his shirt. Watching him make a step towards you, it seems like his eyes have gotten brighter, cheeks catching a faint tinge of pink, and you have to fight the impulse to dip a hand under your sweater and see how those long fingers of his would feel on you. 

Your fingertips bite into the front edges of the counter. “Not yet, no,” you say, a little disconnected from yourself. Sanji’s scent is an intoxicating mix of rosemary and sandalwood. “Guess we’ll have to browse and see what comes our way.”

“Sure. We’ll look.” Stepping forward, Sanji is the most relaxed he’s felt in days, his limbs and shoulders so much lighter as he moves, comfortably numb in the absence of a thought which has weighted on his back like a fiend draining him of his life force. He knows he has been waiting for something tonight, an answer, you calling a name he cannot bring himself to remember, and yet his mind is blank with nothing but the image of his lips crashing on yours. 

His presence radiates need, and it sends an electric shiver down your spine as he comes closer to you, fingers running over your knuckles. When your eyes align with his, you find it impossible to look anywhere else. So you sink into the blue and drown. Sanji leans further in, and his breath is sultry against your earshell as he speaks. 

“Fuck knows what’s happening to me, dear,” he says, a hoarse sound that makes your thighs squeeze together. “But please tell me you’ll ride my face before anything else.”

But he sure knows what’s going on. He put a spell on you; or something along these lines. 

Your body moves by its own as you push forward, biting your bottom lip, pressing your chest against his. “Want me to fuck your mouth, pretty?” your tone echoes the urgency of his request. 

His lips trail down your ear and across your neck. Suddenly your legs are wrapped around his torso. “Oh, and even more,” he tells you. “I want you to cream on my mouth so much that you’ll never find any other to please you just as good.”

“Then why am I not in your bed yet?” It comes out more desperate than it should. Without realising your fingers have unfastened at least two of his shirt buttons, and now they seem to cling onto his collar for dear life. 

Something flares in him; powerful, primal, which he hasn’t been aware he’s had before, sliding a hand under your hips and picking you up before slamming his lips against yours. The kiss is deep, all tongue. You return it with closed eyes and a breathy moan that pulls Sanji in a frenzied daze. Hands curled at his nape, you lose yourself in the taste of nicotine and pomegranates as you let him carry you past dim lit walls and into the bedroom. He doesn’t bother to turn on the lights. When he hurls you in bed, it’s with a deliberate movement, careful not to bruise you in any way but not the less forceful altogether. 

Then you take care of the rest of his buttons and belt, and he moves his focus to your pants, tugging them off while your mouths can’t gather the resolve to leave each other. Your fingers rake themselves through his hair. Smoothing the skin under your sweater, his hands stop to flatten around your breast. As Sanji presses his weight on you, it becomes impossible not to notice how fucking hard he is, greedy and throbbing against your soaked panties. He’s at his most unbridled tonight, and yet he touches you with the ritualistic devotion of a priest, mouthing syrup into your ear like lighting candles on an altar. The full moon spills in her light through the window, blue and delicate, and for a moment there you are sure Sanji’s contours have caught a prismatic glow, colourful flashes whirling in your vision, wavering around him like some sort of aura. 

After he breaks away, you are still tied together by a thin thread of saliva. He pushes your panties aside, and your back arches when he slides a digit, and then a second one, into your slit. There’s lust in his eyes, the kind you’ve never seen on him before, drinking in the sweet faces you make while his fingers press in and out of you in circling motions, rubbing your clit just so sweetly as he does. 

“Look how wet you are, dearest,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “Always such a lovely mess for me.”

“I want you, Sanji,” you say, aware that you cannot hide the way he makes you feel by looking at him alone. 

It’s you, Sanji.

Your voice echoes in his heart like water dripping in a cave, let it melt inside him with something close to relief. He wants to thank you; and yet he cannot tell exactly what for. What he does instead is pull you into another kiss, less vicious and more affectionate, keeping you close with a hand flattened on your nape. 

The more you kiss him the brighter the room looks. Spectral rainbow fading behind his form. 

“Could you shift your hips for me?” Sanji eventually suggests. “Let me taste you, honey.”

It doesn’t take long to figure out what he means by that. Like a thing of habit, you let Sanji take your spot on the bed, then climb your way onto his face. You take yourself a moment before starting to move, but all wariness disappears the moment he drags a flat tongue across your slit. His voice vibrates into your core as your taste has him mumbling seared praises against your folds. Further you drop yourself on his mouth, and more he laps at your pussy, wet and desperate, coaxing you those sounds that fill the room and blend in with the moonlight. 

Sanji’s tongue has always managed to make you shiver. But this time is different, because you can feel everything; nose and beard and lips, drenched in your slick, white-hot as they rub themselves against your favourite spots. You can feel it when his eyes close and open, taking his time to savour the moment, and when he lets out a pleasured sigh to let you know how grateful he is to be allowed the luxury of tasting you, there is a delirious sensation rushing from your heat and climbing to your back like an electrical shock. It makes you thrust your hips harder against his mouth, call out his name with the urgent solemnity you didn’t know your voice could be able to reproduce. 

Looking at the way Sanji’s lower body tries to helplessly grind against nothing, cock straining in the confines of his boxers, bulging and stained with precum, you come to realise he must be feeling the same as you do. Oh, but Sanji revels in seeing how sweet you can be for him, and how good he can make you feel when he eats you out. He doesn’t mind the pain as long as he gets to lick you off his chin after he’s done. Never someone to dismiss your pleasure over his own. And yet. 

As his mouth diligently works on the heat that is now building in your stomach, and your movements pick up in pace to reach the high, you cannot help not to stare at his cock, thrusting the air to catch up with your rhythm. Hands running a touch across his stomach, you lick your lips. Sanji moans into you when you lean down to tug at his boxers. 

“Angel, what—” you hear him saying. 

Not allowing him the time to protest, you press yourself onto his face. “I’m so close, please,” you inform him, in a voice you don’t recognise. “Please don’t stop.”

So he doesn’t, running his tongue around your clit, not letting a single drop go to waste. You’re almost there. 

“Good goddess, fuck,” he huffs, feeling your hands on his balls, and shortly after your mouth kissing him at the tip. 

He comes that instant; let heat shoot in your mouth and down your throat as you wrap your lips around him, swallowing and licking off everything you can. There is something wrecked in his voice as he’s taken through his crescendo, something like a prayer sent to an all-mighty, and even then he continues to kiss your folds and drag his tongue across you until you come to climb a peak of your own. With Sanji’s taste lingering on the roof of your mouth, tears begin to well up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you call for him, over and over again, enveloped in pleasures you never thought that existed. 

Only when you’re brought back, a panting mess, you realise Sanji remained just as hard as you left him—something only that weird sex drink could’ve made it happen. You take the opportunity to lift your hips from his mouth and better adjust yourself at his crotch; he starts shifting awkwardly the moment you do. 

“There’s no need to, really.” Sanji is hesitant as he looks down at you, lips red and goatee still soaked with your slick. 

“But I want my meal,” you say, already licking at the tip. “It’s only fair you let me have one too.”

He’s having a hard time saying no to you; but how can he, when you talk with that voice, and when you look at him with those pleading eyes that reflect the gates to Heaven and more? Your mouth takes a little more of him, hot tongue trailing up and down his cock, and his eyes roll back into his head in visible defeat. 

Sanji runs his fingers through your hair. His tone takes to yearning, “So my precious darling is hungry, huh? Cute and silly for my cock?”

“Mhm,” bottom lip rolling up, wetly.

Half smug, half dazed. “Then it’d be cruel of me not to keep you fed.” 

Deeper you push your mouth around him, until he’s twitching in your throat and you start to gag. Sanji’s thumb finds your cheek—please don’t do anything you don’t want to. But you wouldn’t stop. You cannot stop. Not when you get to hear the whimpers he makes as your lips press around the skin ever so slightly, when you look up at his heaving chest, his parted lips, pushing out a broken exhale, the eyes that now flood with wavering reflections of the moonlight and tears threatening to wet his lashes. 

“Oh, my angel.” It’s coarse, struggling for air. His eyes shut close. “My sun, my everything. Yeah, like that. So fucking good.”

Hands coated in spit, you reach to give his balls a gentle squeeze, continue to fill your throat. Once praises have started to spill from Sanji’s mouth, they don’t stop, and they touch a point at which the words feel like no more than babbling, trashed and incoherent, with his hair blown in both of his eyes. His hand sometimes runs to his forehead, other times he uses it to caress your face and pet your hair, but no matter what Sanji stays loud in letting you know how good whatever you’re doing to him feels.

The moment he sets both of his hands on your head, you know it’s because he’s getting close. With a fearful thrust of his cock into your mouth a growl leaves him, and soon after his second release spills down your throat, warm, somehow sweet. You swallow; his chest expands and contracts in attempt to catch his breath. 

Specks of light dash off Sanji’s lips. Pulling you at his level, he clashes them against yours into yet another kiss, sloppy and greedy as he runs his hand down your curves, sinks his fingers into your skin. The touch sears everywhere it reaches; and you cannot do anything but melt in his arms, let yourself be moulded by this growing need that somehow can never quite satiate you. 

“Hope you don’t think you won’t be rewarded for that,” Sanji breathes into your mouth. 

Your lips rolling to his jaw, you say, “Hope you don’t think I’ve had enough of you.”

“I’m here for you to take,” with a quivering hand Sanji squeezes your pussy. “Will always be.”

His fingers send a delightful shock throughout your body. Something close to a moan tears from your throat. “You're such a whore for me, Sanji.” 

“Can you blame me?” Sanji rubs his tip against your inner thigh. “Darling, please look at yourself.”

“For the love of god—” wet and breathless against his ear. “Don’t make me wait any longer.” 

Your impatience endears him, has his heart beating so much faster than it already does. Still he starts slowly, pushing you onto the pillows, taking his time to relish your expression as he lifts your legs and lovingly sets them atop his shoulders. Sanji almost laughs at himself, because even under the influence of this potion that brings out anything wild and viscerally troublesome he has in him, nothing delights him more than getting to unravel you with the same care one deseeds a pomegranate in the kitchen. 

Placing a kiss on your calf, he croons, “Say, sweetheart, what about you? Who do you crave for just so?” 

Not wasting a beat, “You, Sanji.” It’s you. 

He could get off by these words alone. 

“And what do you want from me?” he starts to coat himself in your slick, pressing the tip on your clit every now and then. “Do you want me to fuck you, maybe? Fill you up and call you beautiful?”

You can only nod, legs coiling around his neck in anticipation. “Yeah, yeah. Please fuck me.”

Then you can feel him burying himself into you, and it rips a sound from your mouth as soon as he does. Your hips lift to increase the friction. You accommodate him easily, trembling under him and through the persistent knot in your stomach that has you wanting for more. 

When he bottoms out, his voice is low, hypnotic. “Like this?”

“Like this,” you echo, drowning yourself in the wild glimmer flaring in his eyes.

Fingers dug into your legs, his temples sweaty, Sanji pulls out, then drops himself back in, each motion steadier than the other. Wet sounds fill the sheets as your bodies coil and flatten together like nothing matters in this world but you and this moment and the moon capturing your contours in ethereal glow. Nothing, no one. Sanji speeds his hips, chest flushed and sweltering. Usually you’re not as permissive with your sounds as he is, but tonight they seem to just pour themselves out of your mouth, every sigh and moan and whimper, sugar waterfalls thickening the air as Sanji moves you into each thrust. 

“Ah,” you hear him say, a man aflame. “Refresh my memory, would you, angel? Who did you want to fuck again?”

Through an exhale, “You—” a pause. “Only you.”

“You feel so good,” he whines, collapses with a slapping sound. “So sweet, so perfect for me.”

Blue and pink and yellow; just as vivid when you close your eyes. He goes in deep, deeper, and your thighs are shivering against his torso. 

“Yeah? You like that?” legs tightening their grip around him. “Like it when I take you good and confess?”

“More than that,” Sanji is breathless. “Makes me insane. You’re making me go insane.”

You wouldn’t admit it, but you know how it feels. To have your sanity run scarce by a voice telling you how faultless you are, that no matter how you see yourself you will always be a cosmos in someone else’s eyes. If anything, you should know this better than anyone else, the maddening feeling of being fed honey and sugar glaze as your thoughts are pressed against body heat. Lost in his trance Sanji picks up the pace, and there’s a wet, debauched mewl that overrides even the careless crash of your skins. 

Lip caught under your teeth, “Want to, mh—wanna hear another confession, baby?” 

“What’s on your mind, my sweet?” Sanji’s lips ghost over your calf. 

“Think I—” with a thrust your eyes are hurled to the ceiling. “Fuck, I think I love you.”

Vulnerable. 

Suddenly his chest drops against yours, a chance for your legs to flatten across his back, pulling him the closest you can. His fingers interlace with yours as he sinks into the crook of your neck. 

Reckless. 

The pace doesn’t slow down, but you can very well tell it’s become sloppier than before. A lost rhythm. When you look at him again, you are quick to notice the dampness pushing at the corners of his eyes. 

“I love you too,” glad to finally word it this way. “I love you so much.” 

Then he continues to rut into you, shaky voice fogging your neck the moment your nails pierce into his back. Your hips thrust themselves up, desperate for tandem. Heat erupts inside you. Another peak you’re yearning to chase. 

“‘m gonna come, ‘m gonna come,” you tell him, cheek brushing over his hair. 

“Let go, my dear,” in a frail tone. “Let me hear you.”

With a squeeze of your hand Sanji fucks you the way you need him to—viciously. 

He could try. He could at least try to make you fall so hard for him that you will keep your words even after the spell wears off. 

You pull at his hair, mean and senseless as a sudden burst of pleasure tears through you. Your lips move without being able to hear the words. There must’ve been something you said, though, you’re sure there was, because Sanji’s soon chasing after, hung on a mournful vowel, flooding you through his end. 

The moon soaks into your bodies.

iv. 

Sanji wakes up with tinnitus. He blinks, once, twice, waiting for the specks of colour before his eyes to rearrange into furniture. The next thing he recognises is your breathing, small and lukewarm on his chest. Instinctively his arms wrap themselves around you, and there’s a long exhale when they do. You’re naked, both of you. His head becomes heavy with flashes of last night, lips pressed together, bending sternum, and soon they are replaced with the sound of a name he thought he couldn’t remember. Sentiments he thought he discarded. 

He thought he would lose you. 

But you are still here. 

Before knowing it, his arms are shaking, and like he’s done many times when he finds it impossible to contain himself, he covers his eyes with an elbow. 

He starts crying. 

Muffled, subtle, more worried about waking you up than about having to figure out an excuse for his tears. Droplets roll off his cheeks and onto his collarbone. His chest jerks up and down in a pathetic staccato. He wishes he were someone with more control over his emotions, sometimes, during moments like this. But he isn’t, and he cannot change, just like he cannot be many other things. 

A soft rustle beneath the sheets. Arms squeezing his torso. 

“Sanji, hey.” The words come out rasp, still filled with sleep. When he doesn’t answer, there’s a thumb wiping across his cheek. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I’m sorry,” is all he can manage. 

Warmly, concerned. “Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry,” he hiccups again. “I’m so sorry.”

Because he doubted you. Because he cannot fucking stop doubting himself. Heaven knows he’d tell you all these things, were he a braver man. Instead there’s only one thing that seems to be coming out of him, a broken record.

“I’m sorry.”

You wouldn’t want to pressure him. Without saying anything else you keep Sanji in your arms, squeeze him tighter as his tears blend with your hair and your fingers move to soothe his frantic shoulders. Salt pours on his bottom lip. Sanji accepts the comfort despite his better judgement, burying his face into your neck, trying to focus on the sound of your breathing. You stay like this for a while. 

There are so many things he’d want to tell you; the kind of things that eat through his guts and tear him apart. Silly images of him taking you to the Baratie, teaching you the way around potions, topping your hand as you sign your name in blood and knowledge, are you to feel rebellious enough. 

And he will, one day; talk to you about everything he’s ever seen and touched. Now, however, he closes his eyes and hopes you will somehow catch a flicker of all the love he has in him; everything that makes him foolish. 

by far the longest thing i've written in years & it's a boring au. now excuse me but i need to go lie down for a while.

[lunaritex]

𓏲࣪ ִֶָ ︎ִֶָ LOVE HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHT 𖤐. — yang jungwon.

pairing: idol! jungwon x fem! reader. content: idol au, childhood friends to lovers, reader is female, reader is not an idol here, reader got stood up (not by jungwon), confession, fluff. wc: 1.7k

FROM HYE: childhood friends to lovers troupe will always hit idc!!! idk why this became kinda long though, whoops... ALSO NO DOUBT AND DAYDREAM IS SO GOOD IM ASCENDING

This cannot be happening. 

You sighed for the unknown time, leaning back in your seat as you tapped your phone. The screen lit up upon your brief contact but as always, there was no new notification from your boyfriend. Nearly an hour had passed and you were sure your current state was gathering unwanted pitiful glances thrown your way. You knew what they were thinking. In their eyes, they saw a dressed-up young adult, excited for her date with her boyfriend, only to get stood up and had been hopelessly waiting there, like a complete fool. 

You finished the drink and decided to leave, having waited long enough. You stepped out of the cafe, the door gently closing behind you as you pulled out your phone to call the first person you thought of. It only took two rings before the intended receiver picked up. 

“Hello? (Name), aren’t you supposed to be on a date with Sungjin?” Jungwon asked, concern evident in his voice. His questions put a smile on your face, probably at the fact that he knows your schedule for the day, despite how he was in the midst of practice when you heard music coming from his background on the other line. 

Your prolonged silence was starting to scare the idol, who had stepped out of the practice room after signaling to his members that he was on a call. Jungwon frowns when his ears register the poorly stifled sounds of you sobbing. Hearing you breaking down is similar to getting shot in the heart. 

“(Name), what’s wrong? You know you can talk to me,” he continued in a soft and assuring tone. 

“I… I got stood up. I waited there for an hour and Sungjin didn’t turned up, making me look like a fucking idiot,” you replied through your tears, letting out a bitter chuckle. 

Jungwon's grip on his phone tightened as he listened to you, his jaw clenching when he realized the pain in your voice. The news hit him like a blow: once again, you have been left standing alone, waiting for someone who clearly did not deserve you. His eyes darkened, a storm of anger brewing in them.

“Wait,” he interrupted, his voice low but seething. “He… stood you up? Again?”

You let out a sigh on the other end, trying to laugh it off, but Jungwon could hear the hurt behind it. That was all it took. He took the stairs instead of the lift, stepping out of the company. His sudden disappearance will surely cause his manager to be worried and how he had forgotten his mask would make the situation even worse. But none of that matters when it comes to you. 

“Where are you?” he demanded, his tone softening just a bit when he spoke to you. But there was an undeniable edge to his words, a mix of frustration and protectiveness that seeped through.

"Jungwon, you don’t have to—"

“Just tell me,” he insisted, his voice firm but reassuring. “I need to know where you are. I’m coming to you.”

“...I’m at the park we played at when we were kids,” you replied, knowing your childhood friend is very persistent when the times required him to be. 

Somehow, your feet had led you to the place where you had created countless memories with Jungwon. You took a seat on one of the nearest benches, watching as people of all ages minded their business. Some were having fun with their children or partners. There were children running around the playground area, screaming at the top of their lungs as they chased one another. The sight made your heart soften, as you remembered how you and Jungwon were just like them; having the time of your lives before the harsh reality of life combined with responsibilities had taken over you. 

“(Name)!” 

You turned at the shout of your name, eyes widening in pure disbelief at the sight of Jungwon rushing towards you without a care in the world. What rendered you speechless was how he had forgotten to hide his identity, resulting in the public stopping to openly gape at him. Some had even pulled out their phones to record him, ready to post it on the Internet. Flustered, you stood up, grabbed his hand and dragged him to your home. 

When the both of you are in the privacy of your home, you turned and smacked him on his head. 

“Ow! What was that for!?” He yelped, rubbing the spot with his hand. 

“You idiot! Why did you run out in the midst of practice, and without a hat or a mask too!? What’s going to happen if your manager hears you ditch practice!” You scolded him, resembling a mother scolding her child. 

“Alright, I’m sorry! The thought might have slipped my mind when I heard you were crying,” he admits with a sheepish grin on his face, lowering his hand. 

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Look, it’s fine. You didn’t have to come all the way here. I’m sure Sungjin’s probably busy with work and he had forgotten to text me.” 

Jungwon gave you an unreadable look. “You’re always making excuses for him.” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he tried to rein in his emotions. 

“Tell me, has he done anything good for you in this relationship? Has he ever gone out of his way to make you feel loved, or even just… appreciated?”

You were silent, and he took this as a chance to continue. 

“But what about you? You deserve someone who’d show up without a second thought, someone who’d want to be with you, not leave you hanging like this,” Jungwon continued. 

You opened and closed your mouth. “I—” 

He exhaled sharply. “You don’t get it, do you?” He said, his voice softer but laced with pure honesty that made your heart race. “I’ve been here, right by your side, through all of it. I’ve watched you get your heart broken over and over… and every time, I keep hoping you’ll see what’s right in front of you.” 

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. 

“I can’t stand seeing you hurt anymore,” he whispered, his eyes glistening as he held your gaze. “Because I love you. And I would never leave you waiting, not even for a second.”

“Jungwon, I…” You struggled to find the words, feeling a mix of shock and confusion. “You’ve… always been there. I just—”

“You didn’t know,” he finished softly, looking down for a moment, a faint sadness in his eyes. “I know. I never wanted to push you or complicate things. I just wanted you to be happy.” He paused, swallowing hard, his voice lowering. 

“But seeing you go through this again, seeing someone else treat you like you’re disposable, when I know you’re anything but… I can’t keep quiet anymore.”

Your chest tightened, a wave of emotions you had not expected crashing over you. All those times he had offered a shoulder to cry on, the countless moments had picked you up when you were at your lowest—had they all been laced with feelings you’d missed? Slowly, you reached out, placing your hand over his. His fingers were tense beneath yours, but at your touch, he glanced up, searching your face with an expression that was both hopeful and terrified.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He looked at you, his eyes raw with vulnerability. “Because I didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want to risk our friendship over something I could never take back.” His hand turned under yours, holding it gently as he continued. “But now… I can’t pretend anymore. You deserve someone who’s there, through every high and low, someone who sees you for who you are.”

The words touched something deep within you, warming your heart in a way you hadn’t expected. As you looked into his eyes, the realization hit you like a flood—Jungwon had been that someone all along.

With a breath, you leaned closer, feeling a sense of clarity for the first time. “Maybe I’ve been blind,” you murmured, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But now… I see you.”

A spark of hope flickered in his eyes, and without another word, he closed the distance, his forehead resting gently against yours. You saw how his eyes flickered to your lips for a brief moment. He was about to lean in when the moment was rudely interrupted by your phone ringing, causing you to pull away. Your face felt when you recognized the number. You were about to reject the call when Jungwon snatched the device out of your hand, accepted the call and put it on speaker mode. 

“What are you doing!?” You hissed, but he merely shushed you. 

“Hello, (Name)? Oh my god, I’m so sorry I missed out on our date. Are you still there? If you want, I’m free now and we can have dinner together if you want,” Sungjin’s frantic voice echoed throughout your apartment. 

“Sungjin, is it? Sorry but your relationship with her is officially over. I’ll greatly appreciate it if you could leave her alone,” Jungwon nonchalantly replied, his thumb drawing circles on your knuckles. 

“...Who is this? And what’s your relationship with my girlfriend?” Sungjin’s voice turned cold but Jungwon was unfazed, turning to face you with a wide grin on his face. 

“Me? I’m her new boyfriend and now if you could excuse us, we have a date to tend to, goodbye and see you never.” 

“Wait—” 

And just like that, Jungwon ended the call. He had even blocked his number, preventing your now ex from calling you anymore. You, on the other hand, burst out laughing. Jungwon puffed his cheeks. 

“What’s so funny?” He pouts. 

“N-Nothing, I didn’t expect the leader of ENHYPEN to be this bold, but since when we’re going on a date and since when you’re my boyfriend? I think you have skipped a few steps,” you teased him once you had calmed down. 

Jungwon’s eyes widened in realization. “Oh! Then (Name), would you do me the honors of being my girlfriend?” 

Chuckling, you moved closer to press a chaste kiss on his lips. “Of course, Jungwon. I’d be more than happy to do so.” 

He made a noise of happiness before engulfing you in a bone-crushing hug, to which you returned the gesture. “You have no idea how happy I am right now.” 

“And what’s the reason?” You inquired when he pulled away to admire your face. 

Jungwon’s features softened as he cups your cheeks. “It’s because I finally got the prettiest girl and I can finally call her mine.” 

[vettelsvee]

YOU'RE NOT HANNA, AND NEVER WILL BE HER | Sebastian Vettel

history series main masterlist | requests here!

red bull sebastian vettel x reader, nico rosberg x reader

word count: 6588

summary: 2010 german gp post race party has many things in store for seb and y/n, who finally do what they both been willing to do for a long time even they're dating hanna prater and nico rosberg

warnings: everything related to gender-based violence (main trigger warning to physical and mental abuse) from nico to y/n (reminder that everything you read on my blog is fiction), curse words, "cheating", mentions of suicide and cancer

a/n: i'm quite scared and happy at the same time to be posting this fic because it's one of my favourite parts ever on history series, but still has me so worried you might not like it because of all the topics (and because history series was originally posted on wattpad and not many people liked it but don't let anyone know that pls). anyways, let me know your thoughts on this one and request anything you might like if you want pls! i'll probably be posting tomorrow another part since my town is currently on high risk alert of floods and we've been told not to leave home. let me remind you that comments and reblogs are truly appreciated! thank you so much <3

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

2010 Hockenheim   German Grand Prix  

You paused for a moment in front of the bathroom mirror as Valentina finished your makeup. You leaned forward to get a better look, but the your woman followed your movements with perfect synchronization and, surprisingly, without messing it all up.

Your own reflection was completely unrecognizable to you. In front of you stood a beautiful, self-assured Y/N, looking like someone who possibly had a life that, while not perfect, seemed enviable.

You feared that a simple layer of makeup could make you feel completely different from reality. It was as if all your problems had suddenly vanished, and instead had in front of you a superwoman admired by everyone, not a twenty-something whose life was falling apart.

Valentina Martínez, the girl standing beside you with whom you’d had the opportunity to become closer, was one of the Mercedes catering managers and, also, exactly the complete opposite of you. Valentina had a beauty that everyone could admire and a confidence that many, including yourself, would love to have. She could lift others' spirits with just a smile and a few words that, while not wise, were good enough to make sense.

The Argentine radiated the kind of magic you felt you lacked.

So, when Valentina’s gaze fell on yours as you continued to admire how beautiful you felt.

“Come on, Y/N!” Valentina shouted, stepping away from you and starting to bounce on her feet. “I know this isn’t your thing, but I swear you look incredibly hot.”

“Valentina…”

“None of that,” she interrupted, “you need a bit more confidence. I don’t know how you don’t have it with Nico already. He’s totally worth it!”

As Valentina’s smile grew wider, you sighed and lowered your head. You thanked her as calmly as you could for trying to transfer some of her positivity, though you knew it was somewhat of a show Valentina put on for everyone and wasn’t doing anything particularly special for you.

That was what you liked least about her: Valentina was so well-liked and appreciated by everyone that, somehow, she always played the same role, regardless of who she was with.

“I don’t know why I’m going to a party I definitely don’t want to go to,” you confessed with honesty.

Today’s race had been quite tough, and although the strategies were solid, they didn’t seem to deliver the expected results when Seb only managed to get bronze in his home race. That’s why all you wanted to do at that moment was order a good room-service dinner and eat it under the bed sheets while watching some low-budget TV show before trying to get some sleep.

"You know that stepping out of our comfort zone is the best thing," Valentina said, moving closer to you and gently taking your hands. "Besides, you're doing this for Nico," she insisted. "Remember: he's your boyfriend, and it's your duty to make him happy."

You smiled shyly even though, deep down, you shivered a bit at the tone Valentina seemed to be using with you. It was as if she wanted those last words, it's your duty to make him happy, to penetrate your mind and stay there. You tried to ignore it, as it was probably your own insecurities taking over. And, in some way, you knew Valentina wasn’t wrong. She was aware that you needed to stop being so perfectionistic and rigid, and maybe start letting yourself go a little bit more.

"You're right, yeah," you finally said. "Thanks for everything."

Without saying anything else, you left Valentina’s room to head back to your own, just a couple of doors away, not without first gathering the clothes you had been wearing earlier while your friend continued getting ready.

As you took out your room card from the small purse hanging from your shoulder and swiped it to enter, you started feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. However, the moment Nico Rosberg, your boyfriend, came out to greet you and looked you up and down, hands on his hips, all of it disappeared.

"Are you seriously going out dressed like that?" he asked, completely incredulous, pointing at your dress. "You look like a slut."

You were speechless, though part of you wanted to say everything she was feeling. Once again, fear caused you to shrink back, cautious about your actions and the possible consequences. The tone he had used on you was filled with anger and, above all, disappointment. You knew that nothing good would come from answering, so instead you held back everything you wanted to say to him.

“Nico, it's just a dress…” you tried to explain as calmly as possible, not really knowing how to make him see reason without losing your composure.

He stepped closer, and his eyes filled you with nothing but fear. You could swear that, in his fury, the bluish hue of his eyes had turned an orange-red, like fire; his pupils, fully dilated, were what sent you into internal panic.

“I don’t give a damn fuck if it’s just a dress,” he mocked you. “I don’t want you going out like that. You know there’ll be consequences.”

Be careful how you act with me, he had told you one day when you said you weren't in the mood to go out to have dinner. Since then, though you had realized many things he did to you, you’d also started to act with caution and rationality, knowing that blows could come at any moment.

You’d even considered that there was a remote possibility that you might be the one to end things, especially every time you recalled every single insult he used to hurl at you whenever you misbehaved, which had only increased in frequency in recent weeks, following your father’s death and your trip with Seb to your hometown for the funeral.

But, most especially, when the Red Bull Racing driver stayed a few days with you because he was absolutely worried about your mental health getting worse.

A lump formed in you throat as a few tears began to fall freely down your face, ruining the makeup your friend had taken so much time to apply and had turned out so well.

“If you don’t change your clothes right now and put on something that makes you look like a decent person…” He threatened, moving closer with his hand raised. “Think carefully, Y/N: I don’t want to go crazy, but I think you're forcing me to.”

You couldn’t let fear paralyze you at least, not now, as you felt his hand inching closer to your body. Another physical mark that would eventually fade, but another one that would leave a psychological one permanently.

"Please, Nico, don’t do this…” you begged, completely desperate by this point, but trying not to show it. “You said you loved me just the way I am and…”

“I just can’t believe you’re so stubborn! Don’t you get that I don’t want you going out dressed like some desperate girl who clearly wants to fuck with everyone?!” he yelled, filled with rage.

You backed up as much as you could until your back hit one of the surrounding walls. You had encountered this version of Nico before: no matter how hard you tried to reason with him, he would manipulate you until you ended up thinking it was entirely your own fault.

“Please, Nico, don’t shout. I don’t want anyone to hear us…”

“They’ll hear us if that’s what you deserve for wanting to embarrass me,” he shouted again, even more furious.

You knew the tension had reached its peak and that, from there, things would only worsen. 

Nico kept yelling at you. With your eyes squeezed shut and your hands pressed over your ears, waited for the familiar sensation of one of his limbs landing on any part of your body he fancied at that moment.

“Oh, so now you have the nerve to ignore me?”

When you heard him clearly again and saw his hand raise, you somehow found the courage to turn away and quickly slip into the bathroom, forgetting to lock the door in your haste.

“Open up right now!” he screamed.

While he pounded on the door, his yelling relentless, you leaned against the farthest wall, as if he might burst in at any moment. 

It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened. 

You gasped for air in a place where there seemed to be none, your hand instinctively clutching your chest as if to shield your heart, which felt like it might burst out at any moment. You had learned to live with anxiety and panic, and both emotions had reached a point where they didn’t control each other but had fused, learning to coexist together with you.

“Nico… I’ll change my clothes,” you said, still crying, your voice choking. “I’m sorry, really,” you lied, trying to sound as convincingly as you could. “But please… don’t hurt me.”

Not again.

Your whispers seemed to have reached him because his pounding and labored breathing quieted. You hoped that the situation had calmed, and it seemed like it had.

He didn’t answer immediately, instead giving you enough time to remove the ruined makeup from your face and apply just a little mascara. A few minutes passed, enough time for you to relax and consider the possible outcomes of what might happen next, before he coldly demanded that you open the door.

You emerged and collided with his chest. Forcing yourself to look up at him, all you could see was contempt.

“Once again, you’ve disappointed me,” he stated without a hint of hesitation. “No wonder why lots of shit happens to you and people treat you so poorly. I was wrong to judge Vettel: he was right to treat you that way, and he should’ve done even more to you.”

All you could do was lower your gaze and head toward your suitcase on the floor, trying to pick something that would be ok with Rosberg’s dress code while reminding yourself that Seb did things quite bad, but he seemed to be truly sorry and apologized many times to you. The beautiful red dress, strapless and embellished across the chest, falling just above your knees, had to be replaced by another dress of the same color, but one that reached your ankles, with a much higher neckline and looser fit, so as not to highlight your nearly nonexistent curves.

“Happy now?” you asked, with as much disdain as you dared, even knowing he might match your face to her outfit.

“If you behaved like a responsible adult, yes,” he muttered as he opened the door and took your hand forcefully. “Sometimes I forget you’re only twenty-two and you have a lot to learn about life.”

Did he really know more about life than you did after all you had to go through?

That thought lingered in your mind throughout the journey, from their floor’s hallway to where the party was held, including the elevator ride where they encountered Mark Webber and a journalist from Sky Sports Germany, Eloise Schimdt. During the conversation between the four of them, though you remained silent, you had to pretend that everything was fine, even as your insides felt like they were shattering further.

As they entered the venue, the music, louder than she liked, started to throb in your ears. Your eyes opened wide to adjust to the dim lights from the spotlights, and, as you always did when in a public place with Nico, you began scanning the scene in detail.

There were more people than the space could comfortably hold. The dance floor was packed with people moving energetically, glasses in hand with the sole mission of keeping the alcohol from spilling. The bar was just as crowded, and in the center, across from shelves stocked with every type of liquor imaginable, she spotted Kimi, Fernando and Jenson with their respective partners, chatting animatedly.

But your eyes didn’t seem to waste any time and ended up settling on the guy standing a bit farther away from the others.

Sebastian was leaning back against the bar, tapping his left hand on it to match the rhythm of the song playing. In his other hand he held a glass of what she assumed was, possibly, a Jägerbomb, his favorite drink and, to him, a must-have for parties like this. He was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans with those Geox trainers he always wore, and his hair was completely tousled.

In that moment, you felt utterly captivated by him, and you were sure you would have dared to talk to him if his eyes hadn’t been fixed on Hanna. The blonde girl was a few steps in front of him, dancing seductively without caring where she was or who might be watching her.

You couldn’t help but wish, at that moment, to be her.

You shook off those conflicting thoughts as soon as Nico grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you, snapping you out of your trance, to head toward the bar.

"Give me a Martini," he said abruptly to the bartender, "and some water for her. She’s a bit dizzy," he lied to stop you from drinking, as he often did every time you went out.

"A Jägerbomb if you can, please," you ended up telling the guy behind the bar with your best smile.

You completely ignored the words and looks Nico was giving you. Instead, you just flashed your best smile at the bartender, who kept looking at you with concern, along with the rest of the people who weren’t too intoxicated yet and had overheard your boyfriend’s words.

"I can’t believe you’re drinking again… Can’t you control yourself or what?" he snapped.

He pulled you aggressively close, and you tried you best to ignore his words, spoken in a threatening tone directly into your ear, while you took your drink from the bar, along with his, and offered it to him.

Surrounded by people, you felt a bit safer than usual. He wouldn’t be able to hurt you, at least not physically, in front of everyone here… His reputation would be ruined, and Nico Rosberg was too proud to allow that.

So you didn’t stay silent.

"Nico, leave me alone for a few hours, please," you replied, ignoring his comments. "I’m here to enjoy the party you were so insistent on coming to, not to get scolded for wanting to have fun with you."

"Damn it, Y/N!" he expressed in frustration. "Do you always have to ruin everything or what?"

You just lifted your glass to avoid spilling your drink and walked towards the dance floor, leaving Rosberg behind, hurling insults you decided to ignore.

As soon as you found yourself among the crowd, greeting familiar faces with a friendly smile, you let yourself get carried away by the rhythm of the music. Tonight your shyness seemed nonexistent, and you could only thank the alcohol for giving you the confidence you had lost. You started to lose track of time as you danced, and though you didn’t know how, each move helped free you from the intrusive thoughts of loneliness and worthlessness, of feeling like nothing more than a mere object, which had crowded your mind at a dizzying speed.

You knew that mixing liquor with the energy drink that funded your lifestyle was only a temporary fix and that, once the effects wore off, your life would return to the completely chaotic state you had come to deserve.

Suddenly, the music stopped, as did the bodies moving on the dance floor. A spotlight focused on the stage, where Seb stood, microphone in hand and swaying. There was no doubt that he was drunk.

His swaying body made it clear that he had no idea what he was doing and that, at some point, he would end up regretting something.

"Sorry, sorry!" he said into the microphone. "But I feel like making a little pause in this party we’ve got going tonight because I want to sing a song to someone I care about a lot."

You began to feel terrible as Vettel gestured to the DJ for the music he wanted. A few seconds later, the first chords of Just the Way You Are by Bruno Mars was the only sound echoing in the room.

"Babe, this song is for you, and I want you to know how much you mean to me!"

You could see Hanna smiling broadly and shrugging. You wanted to leave to cry again at the beautiful scene unfolding in front of you, of which you definitely weren’t the main character.

Was it too soon to say that the boy you were in love with dedicating a song to his girlfriend hurt worse than any blow your current boyfriend had ever given you?

Yes, it was clear. Possibly, the alcohol had already taken too strong a hold, and you could no longer control what you said or thought.

You know I'd never ask you to change  

If perfect's what you're searching for  

Then just stay the same  

So don't even bother asking if you look okay

You felt confused and didn’t know what to do, but Sebastian’s voice, trembling and making his English accent sound more German than usual, had you completely captivated.

So did Prater's reaction when the German shifted his gaze from her to you.

“This is for you,” he said, sweeping his gaze across the crowd. “I know you know who you are, and I want you to know it’s all for you, and that you deserve the absolute best.”

When I see your face  

There is not a thing that I would change  

'Cause you're amazing  

Just the way you are  

And when you smile  

The whole world stops and stares for a while  

'Cause, girl, you're amazing  

Just the way you are

You noticed Hanna moving to your side, visibly confused and clearly uncomfortable with what was happening.

“Y/N…”

She couldn’t say anything else, nor could you to her. As much as you wished to be Hanna, you couldn’t help feeling sorry for her at the strong possibility that her boyfriend was confessing his feelings to another girl right in front of her.

Or, at least, that’s what the alcohol led you to believe.

“I want you to know that, from the first moment I saw you, you’ve been in my heart,” Seb admitted, his words drawn out, uncaring about the reactions of those around them, especially his girlfriend’s or yours. “Right now, I can’t have what I want most, but I want you to know that being with you is the only wish I’ve made, and the one I’ll keep making on my birthday, until we can finally be together.”

That was the last straw. As quickly as she could, trying in vain to hold back tears and avoid drawing attention, Hanna left, thoroughly embarrassed, muttering something you couldn’t catch. Seb's voice still echoed in your ears, but you tried to ignore it because you couldn’t believe what had just happened.

Lost in thoughts, you moved as far away as you could, trying not to stumble. Then, you made your way to the bar to order another drink, as if that might somehow make you forget what had just happened.

Just before you could exchange words with the bartender who had already served you so many drinks that night, you felt someone take your wrist, though this time much more gently. You knew it wouldn’t be Nico; when you turned around and saw Seb, however, you were even more surprised.

Your eyes met, and butterflies began to flutter in your stomach. Once again, you felt at home and safe, though deep down, you were only afraid.

Without saying a word, he took your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours.

In that moment, you felt everything fade away. You let yourself go, unafraid of who might be watching or what might happen next. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and his hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss… your first kiss. 

Slowly, calmly, and, as you felt, full of affection, you stayed that way until you both needed air.

You felt that you had both been waiting for this moment for so long and, in a way, you deserved it, turning a simple gesture of affection into something unique and special, caring little about your partners or your sobriety.

Seb pulled back, his hands still resting on you, and your gazes shared in complicity about what had just happened. You knew he was happy but confused, just as you were. You didn’t know what to say, and knowing he didn’t either, you simply gave him a shy smile to let him know everything was okay, that he could do that a thousand times more from now on.

“Y/N…”

“What is it, Seb?”

You wanted him to tell you he loved you, that he’d left Hanna, and that he wanted you to be his new girlfriend, the love of his life.

But, instead, Seb looked at you and left you, once again, speechless:

“You’re not Hanna… and never will be her...”

After he said that, you felt nothing but your breath slipping away and the sensation of fainting.

You wanted to tell him everything you felt at that moment, but his words had hit you so hard that they only increased your confusion and pain.

All you could do was stare at him, likely making a fool of yourself with the amount of tears clouding your vision. Silence took over, and when you finally found the strength to speak, trying to hide the pain you knew your voice would show, he turned away without even saying goodbye.

"How the hell could you do that, Y/N?! You have no shame! You humiliated me in front of everyone. Kissing Sebastian like you don't care about your boyfriend... now I see what you're really up to."

You didn't have time to say anything or leave because Rosberg came running towards you, grabbing your arm with a force you'd never seen in him. It hurt, and your scream, which was more of a complaint from the pain than a surprise, was a way of expressing how much you were hurting, not just from the tight grip, but also from the shake he'd just given you.

"Nico, please, calm down..." you tried to calm him, not wanting to embarrass yourself. Some people were already looking at you, and you wished Earth would swallow you up. "It was just..."

"Don't play innocent!" he shouted too loudly. "You thought I wouldn't find out?! I saw you kissing that piece of shit who only wants to fuck you until he's bored of you," he said, referring to Seb. "Now everyone here knows what you really are: a whore! And I'm glad, Y/N… You have no idea how glad I am."

The music suddenly stopped blasting, but your boyfriend's anger didn’t.

"Nico... I love you, really," you tried to speak. "It was just a moment of weakness..."

The moment of weakness was exactly what you were feeling now, making him believe you were truly in love with him when, in fact, you were only staying in the relationship because you were afraid your reputation wouldn’t make it out alive. 

"You say you love me? Don't make me laugh! If you really loved me, you wouldn’t act like this."

You wanted to tell him that you thought the same about him, but you held back, paralyzed again by the fear that your mind was processing all the bad things that could happen.

"Nico, come on. You don’t have to act like this. We can talk about this civilly."

As you saw Edward, Vettel’s personal trainer, appear, and pull Nico a bit away from you, a little peace returned to your body. You gave him a grateful look, to which he just answered by nodding.

"You don’t have to get involved, Eddie!" your boyfriend shouted. "Stay out of our fucking business!"

"You know you don’t have to treat her like this," he said seriously.

"She’s a whore, can't you see it?" Nico spat, pointing at you. "Disgusting little girl..."

"Nico, I understand you're angry," Patterson spoke again, after the German’s words, "but neither of you is in a state to talk about this, and this is not the right place," he said, referring to the curious looks around them.

You could only constantly whisper for them not to fight anymore, while deep down you prayed to take you away from all of this and bring you back to the hotel.

"I don’t care what you say," Eddie started. "I'm taking Y/N. I don’t think being here is the best thing for her."

After saying that, he stood behind you and guided you, putting his hand on your back, toward his car. At that moment, your desperation was so great that you didn’t even think about whether he was in any condition to drive.

The way back to the hotel, less than ten minutes away, felt eternal.You hadn’t drunk much because you didn’t like it, but not being used to it was enough for a couple of curves and a badly taken roundabout to make you gag and feel like vomiting.

Slowly, the shock began to set in, and you started to act on autopilot mode, following the directions of the man accompanying you, except when he told you it would be best for you to sleep in his room that night.

You didn’t know why, but that set off alarms in your confused brain. The last thing you wanted was to add fuel to the fire by sleeping with another man who wasn’t your boyfriend just to protect you.

"Thanks for everything, Eddie, really, but I think it would be best if I went back to my room to sort things out with Nico."

The Brit didn’t seem to agree with you.

"Y/N, I know it’s hard, but I don’t think it’s best for you to share space with him tonight," he was honest.

"I just want to talk to him and try to put an end to this," you insisted, still knowing you weren't right.

"And I understand you, really, but right now everything is too fresh, and the best thing is for you to rest and let the drunkenness wear off," he said, placing one of your arms over his shoulders. "Come on, I’ll take you to my room."

You decided not to argue anymore because it would be in vain, so you let yourself be guided while he lectured you about how you shouldn’t be intimidated by Nico and how you deserved someone better than him after what had happened at the club that night.

"Edward, Y/N. Good night, guys."

You lifted your gaze and saw another Brit. Jenson was standing in front of you, coming out of the elevator you were about to take. You were greatly surprised that he wasn’t with his girlfriend, but didn’t want to get involved; your alcohol-soaked self, however, wanted to gossip.

"Where are you two going?" he asked, crossing his arms and blocking the elevator doors so they couldn’t pass.

"I’m... taking Y/N to my room," Eddie revealed, stammering a bit for no clear reason. "She’s had a rough time, and it’s best that she doesn’t see Nico’s face tonight."

"And you think the best thing is that you take her to your room?"

Button’s features went from relaxed to a kind of aggression you had never seen in him. It’s not like you had spent much time or had many conversations together, but you knew the situation you were now involved in wasn’t what you had thought it was.

Edward Patterson stayed completely silent.

"Do you want me to call someone to be with you?" Jenson asked you directly, giving you no other option. "Y/N," he insisted again, "who do you want me to call to stay with you tonight?"

"Britta… please," you said as best as you could despite your discomfort.

To your surprise, while Jenson dialed the phone number of the woman you now considered your friend, Eddie let go of you and reluctantly pushed the driver, still leaning against the elevator frame, to leave. He didn’t even take the time to say goodbye to you, something that seemed to upset Button quite a bit.

"Hello, is this Britta?" Jenson began, speaking into the phone. "Great, yes. It’s Jenson. I’m with Y/N, and she asked if you could help her," he started explaining. "I don’t know much about what happened, except that she’s not feeling well and needs help from someone she really trusts," he clarified.

After exchanging a few more words, Jenson led you back to the lobby, where Britta appeared just a few minutes later in a bathrobe, espadrilles, and her hair tied up in a completely unusual way. You had never seen Roeske like that, and all you could do was laugh.

"Come on, let’s go already," Britta said, linking her arm with yours as if you were two old ladies heading to bingo. "This is how I want to see you: laughing, not crying."

When Britta opened the door to her room, you immediately ran and threw yourself onto the bed. Your whole body hurt, and you weren’t sure if it was from the emotions of the night or because the alcohol was hitting its peak.

Whatever it was, you knew perfectly well that lying completely still, face up, and counting the total number of tiles on the ceiling, pointing at them one by one with one eye closed and your tongue sticking out was what was making your hostess laugh.

"Come on, Y/N, get up," Britta asked gently. "Do you mind if I help you get changed? It’s time to put on your pajamas."

You nodded as you sat up and moved to the foot of the bed.

Next, Britta unzipped the dress, and you noticed how she averted her gaze to give you some privacy while offering a nightgown.

"Right now, I’d love for Seb to be the one undressing me to fuck me. God... how I’d love Seb to make me scream now..."

Had you said that out loud?

"What did you just say?"

Britta’s muffled shout and the tone in which she asked, while turning her back without caring whether you had already put the garment on, making you realize that yes, you had said that out loud.

Your first time being drunk was going to be, definitely, a night to remember. Now, you just felt like saying those kinds of things, and you didn’t care at all about having a boyfriend… if he could even be called that.

"Oh…" you said, stretching the last syllable. "Didn’t you know it?"

"Know what?"

By the tone of voice, it seemed Britta thought it was related to the sudden thing you had said.

"Seb and I kissed," you told her, starting to laugh like a lovesick teen.

"This is the alcohol on you, I’m sure of it," Britta said, running to get a wet towel and starting to wipe it across your face. "You mean you and Nico kissed," she tried to correct you. "Seb is dating Hanna, and you’re dating Nico, remember?"

You started shaking your head constantly, about to collapse to the floor. A laugh started escaping you as you couldn’t control it.

"No, no, no, no," you denied while also wagging your finger. "Seb and I kissed. Nico’s an asshole."

"Y/N, you really should go to sleep, you’re not..."

"Of course I’m fine!" you said enthusiastically, getting up from the bed and standing in front of Britta.

The truth was that you only felt fine because of the effect alcohol was having on you. If it wasn’t for that, you would be crawling on the floor crying because you knew you had reached a point where you couldn’t pretend your life was perfect anymore.

"Do you really not believe me when I say that not only did Seb kiss me, but it was the best kiss of my life?"

You knew you were putting Britta in a tough spot, especially considering that the woman was probably closer friends with Hanna than with you.

"And Hanna?" Britta demanded to know. "Was she there, or had she left?"

"Oh, she was there?" you tried to pretend the best you could, using expressions that clearly showed otherwise. "I didn’t know..."

Before you could continue speaking, Britta ran to grab her phone and started making calls. You sat back down, crossing your legs and swaying while watching the blonde desperately cursing in German, since none of the contacts she called were answering.

It was possible that Seb and Hanna were busy, probably having sex. Your drunk self only wished she was in Hanna’s place.

"The only ones who tell the truth are kids and drunks, you know?"

Britta stared at you after those words. It seemed like you needed to say that phrase to make her believe you.

"Are you serious...?" Britta asked.

"What, Britta?" you insisted, urging her to speak.

"Did you really kiss Sebastian?"

You nodded.

"Yes," you confirmed. "Well, I mean, he was the one who took my face and kissed me," you corrected yourself. "Do I owe anyone something, like he owes Hanna?"

You were getting a bit defensive, and you knew it was making Britta nervous.

"Yes! You owe Nico, your boyfriend," Britta replied, giving you a harsh dose of reality.

"I don’t want Nico," you confessed. "At least, not in the way I think I should. He... I don’t know, Britta. I think he’s what I deserve. I try to understand why, but I know that his insults and those things he says to me make me a better person somehow."

You could see Britta go pale. Also, you were starting to feel worse; after all, it was the first time you had opened up about your feelings to someone since the journal Seb gifted you for your birthday last didn’t count as a personal therapist.

Britta usually had words for everything, but that day, you seemed to have left her speechless.

"Y/N..." Britta began, carefully choosing her words. "You’re a good person. You’re just scared."

"Maybe," you replied, trying not to make it a big deal. "And you, are you scared?"

"Of course. Everyone’s afraid of something."

"I’m afraid of being alone," you admitted, lowering your head because you were starting to cry again for the umpteenth time that day. "And I’m afraid of losing Nico. I know no one will ever love me, not better or worse, than he does."

Britta didn’t know what to say, and you felt bad for having to be in her room, drunk, sad, while your “friend” was putting up with you, possibly mediating between her client and her client’s partner.

That’s why you made a move to leave. Fortunately, Britta wouldn’t let you.

"Sit down, Y/N, and let it all out," Britta demanded.

And that’s exactly what you did. You told Britta everything, not just about what had happened since you started dating your current boyfriend, but about your entire life. Living with a mentally sick mother after her accident, her subsequent suicide, their move to Barcelona. Her father’s cancer and how it had worsened in less than two years. All the things Rosberg had said and done to you, even forcing you to do certain stuff you were clearly uncomfortable with.

You cried like you never had before when you told Britta about your first time, reluctantly, on a luxury yacht in Monaco’s seas, and how it gave you nightmares almost every night to the point where she was scared to fall asleep.

You could tell that Britta was truly worried when you started biting your lower lip, and a little tic appeared in your right eye.

"Have you talked to anyone about this?"

"Do you know I’m not Hanna, and I’ll never be her?"

You were fully aware that you had just avoided answering a crucial question, but you didn’t care at all. You were tired of talking about your burdens and your current life; from now on, you would focus entirely on your future and try to solve and finish once and for all all the problems that made your life a mess.

"But what are you saying, Y/N?" Britta asked, desperate.

"That’s exactly what I would have liked to ask Seb, but he left and Nico messed things up," you revealed, stretching your arms out and pointing to the marks, now red, that were the same shape and size as Mercedes’ driver’s fingers. "Great, yeah," you said ironically.

"But..."

"Do you think if I’m not Hanna, and I’ll never be her, I might have a chance to date Seb?"

Your question left Britta speechless again, unable to find the words. As Britta struggled to speak, you started playing with your fingers. Giving up, you laid on the bed, your back to Britta, clutching a pillow with the clear intention of falling asleep.

"Why are you telling me this?" Britta asked in a whisper, almost with... pity.

"Because I want Seb," you revealed, letting out a sob because, at last, you had been able to confront and reveal your confusing feelings for a guy who didn’t love you, and never would. "I’m in love with Seb, and it hurts knowing he’ll never love me back, and I know I’ll have to move on sooner or later."

Britta was about to speak, but you took the words from her before she could.

"Before you say anything else, take advantage of me and ask me anything you want: I’m a bit drunk because I’m not used to drinking."

You could tell Britta sighed, likely having lost all patience with you.

"You know... you know that Seb...?"

But then Britta stopped talking. You stood there for a while, staring at the red curtains that covered the window, waiting for the woman to continue. When she didn’t, you turned around:

"You know exactly what about Seb, Britta?" you asked, adjusting yourself on the bed, still hugging the pillow.

"Seb and you need to talk," Britta told you, leaving you speechless. "And when you do that, I’m convinced that you’re going to live the life you both deserve."

"But..."

Britta started to lie you down on the bed again, tucking you in under the linen sheets. Your yawns became more frequent, and after she kissed your forehead just like her mother used to do before your life was destroyed, your eyelids grew heavy.

"I know you won’t remember this tomorrow," Britta’s voice flooded your ears as you curled up into yourself. "But, to Seb, it’s more than obvious that you’re not Hanna and you’ll never be… And that’s exactly why that stupid, but incredible guy, has fallen truly, madly, deeply, in love with you."

You couldn’t tell if Britta’s words were already a dream, or if Morpheus was pulling you into his arms. 

"The day you stop doubting your worth, the world will be at your feet, Y/N. Sebastian has been telling me that and his closest people since you two spent the night together the day before his maiden win in Monza."

[newtkelly]

Not to word vomit on you but I can't stop thinking about Oliver wanting a love story like Tarlos and how it all accidentally lined up.

Knowing that Carlos and TK were about to move in, and then Carlos made that romantic gesture and TK got scared because it was, "too good to be true."

Carlos is left, confused, puzzled and nursing a broken-heart but still just as in love. What do you mean that TK and Carlos saw a future together, one got scared at that prospect and left before Carlos was the one to leave??

What do you mean that happened after Oliver said he wanted Bucktommy to have a love story like Tarlos; where it was always going to be them?

Then you consider Oliver saying that we might see Tommy and Buck interact during a call and it'll be awkward and who can't help but think of TK and Carlos running into the furniture store and seeing each other for the first time in weeks.

Anyways, sorry to be delusional in your ask box. I'm deep within the Tarlos trenches so this is all starting to look eerily familiar lmao (it could also be Tim is out of ideas, which is most likely the case)

Please feel free to word vomit on me always, I live for it.

Receiving this ask has actually prompted me to share some thoughts that I’ve held back from sharing, just because I wasn’t sure if it was worth it to throw more speculation into the void. But this message is so lovely, and I agree with it so much and so… okay I will share some of my mixed bag of thoughts about this whole situation.

Firstly, I adore Tarlos and LS (even if I don’t post about either much), TK is my baby, and the interesting thing about them for me is that I wound up caring for them more AFTER they broke up and got back together. If Buck and Tommy’s story is formatted as a rom-com, TK and Carlos are a tragicomedy. TK, the heartbroken recovering addict thrust into an entirely new city, a new career, who doesn’t want to let himself get too close to something good because he is misery incarnate. Carlos, the hopeful hopeless romantic who sees TK and doesn’t see something that needs fixing, but someone who his love could help heal. It’s such a gorgeous story, and the symmetry of both characters shockingly losing a parent in a tragic way is painfully beautiful. I LOVE their love story.

That brings me to Oliver and Tim’s comments. Throughout the Buck and Tommy relationship, my belief that this would be Buck’s final relationship only ever wavered twice. The first time was in the immediate aftermath of their first date (I spent the whole episode thinking that Tommy was actually reintroduced to kick off the bi awakening plotline and Buck was not acquiring a boyfriend) and the second time was towards the tail end of the summer hiatus when I legitimately began to doubt Lou would want to come back given everything that transpired. Other than that, I had full faith that this was it, this was Buck getting off the “hamster wheel”—Tim’s words, not mine.

I had confidence for a few reasons. 1 – the story was always handled with care onscreen and gave us no reason to think they weren’t going to work out. 2 – the chemistry was insane, and I knew it couldn’t just be me because an entire fandom was born. Tim and tptb must have seen what we saw. 3 – the supplementary information funneled to us through articles and Tim’s social media, literally up until post-8x06 never seemed to indicate that their relationship was headed in this direction. A big part of that was the comparison to Tarlos.

In order to protect myself (should I name the list of shows, movies, couples that I’ve fixated on that wound up playing out in dissatisfying ways?), I am awfully pessimistic. The post-episode interviews, articles, + hearing a bit from LFJ and OS has me wondering if this was some mass hallucination. Did we truly cling to something good and blow it up, run with it? Was this always the plan? I’ve wondered if because S7 was so short and S8 required that other characters get the spotlight first/other stories needed to be told and wrapped, and if because of production and scheduling and whatever external reasons, did their relationship wind up having a longer life than was ever intended. Were they ever supposed to make it to six months? Were they ever supposed to make it past the fucking wedding? I have been asking myself this stuff a lot. Alternatively, did something happen that made them want to or have to part ways with LFJ? So many questions, and I’m not sure we’ll ever know.

But… then there’s the delusional side of me, and the reason I haven’t totally abandoned hope is because when I was watching 8x06 live, EVERYTHING in me told me that this is a necessary section of the rom-com formula. Even the call-backs throughout the episode made me feel like the writers are so painfully aware, and that the narrative wants these characters to be together (Miceli’s, Abby, basketball, going to the movies, calling an uber, the loft kitchen, “you’re not ready”)—the motifs were absolutely popping off. I did not think it was the end when the episode ended. I wondered when and how they would find their way back to each other to fulfill the rom-com genre, but what I did NOT expect was to open social media and see articles framing this as the end. I wasn’t surprised when I found out who wrote the articles, and listen—if they bait one side of the fandom, can’t they bait the other? I still have some hope, because at the end of the day, anything can happen with network television. Maybe this is all part of the plan, and the interviews should be taken with a grain of salt. I just don’t know.

Interviews with Tim and Oliver from day one positioned the Buck and Tommy relationship as a queer love story devoid of trauma. Okay, well… huh. From where I was sitting, there was A TON of explicitly queer trauma exposed in 8x06. Their “hurdle” is tied utterly and completely to queerness. Tommy runs because he is a gay man who doesn’t trust that his bisexual boyfriend should “settle” for him, and who would rather be alone than heartbroken, and if that truly is the last of Tommy, it has to be one of the coldest and cruelest exits we’ve ever seen on this show. Do they simply not realize how deeply traumatized both characters come off in that episode, or is it all part of the plan? If the interviews positioning this as the permanent end of bucktommy should be taken at face value, shouldn’t the other interviews that position them as a rom-com (with the formulaic third act breakup, boils and all) be taken as the truth as well? If there was some misinterpretation, why hasn’t Tim said anything—he clearly knows a lot of fans were hurt by what they watched. He must have seen the outrage—why radio silence? Did we truly blow this out of proportion? Are the wheels coming off behind the scenes? I need a tell-all at this point lol

Thank you for the lovely ask, I’ve been sitting with these thoughts all week so this was a good excuse to finally articulate them. <3

[merakiui]

here’s some ace thoughts since i just saw your recent event ace posts. crowley wouldn’t let you stay at ramshackle over summer. so you tell grim to find someone to stay with since you can’t guarantee a job for yourself and although you’re fine with sleeping in the street you don’t want grim to. he probably goes all sad to deuce who tells their entire dorm but before anyone can make a plan ace just walks off. he find finds you and tells you you’re staying with him.

“but ace, did you even ask your parents?”

“it’ll be fine.”

“what if they already have a long term guest you don’t know about sleeping in the couch? you can’t just bring me in without asking!”

“the couch? i’m not stingy like you, we’re sharing my bed.”

“thank you but i insist im okay.”

“———, i’ll always take care of you.”

Omg yes!! You and Grim staying with Ace and his family for the summer!!!! The way Ace's older brother would poke fun at him for his (very obvious) crush on you. >:D and Ace just insists it's "not like that." No way he's crushing on you! He scoffs at the idea, but his cheeks are red and he's starting to stumble over his words.....

Ace who takes you to all the best places in his hometown, certain you'll enjoy them. Maybe you even meet up with Deuce somewhere! Summertime romance with Ace.... there was no shame in sharing a room and even a bed or fighting over who gets to use the sink to do their morning routine first. You're best friends, so everything is perfectly fine and platonic! ...or is it? >:)

That movie moment where you turn around and ask if he's coming while he's stopped to tie his shoe or something, and he just looks at you in a completely different light then because the feelings and vibe have been shifting ever since school let out for the summer and wow. Have you always looked so nice when the sun is framing you perfectly and has your smile always been so bright? AAAA what is he thinking!!!!!

And Grim can tell something's up with Ace. He keeps looking between the two of you, always wondering... sometimes it's a relief Grim's there because he makes for the perfect scapegoat when Ace wants to take you somewhere but doesn't want it to seem like he's asking you on a date. BECAUSE HE'S NOT!!! This is for you and Grim!! Don't get it twisted!!! Of course he completely understands why you might want to go out with "yours truly" (you roll your eyes at that), but it's just a simple hang-out. It's also not a relief because sometimes Grim just makes the awkward tension even worse and he doesn't even mean to do so. T_T

Or when Ace's older brother shares all kinds of embarrassing stories about Ace or when his parents leaf through photo albums, and Ace is begging them to stop because noooo all of his aura and swag are gone the minute you hear about that one time he tripped over his laces or that day he fell for his older brother's dumb pranks or that one awkward photo of him from middle school... he has a reputation to uphold as a cool guy (in front of you) and this is so not helping!!!!

[samandcolbyownme]

@bambisturnioloalt ‘s 𝐍𝐎 𝐍𝐔𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓!

I have chosen to write a Matt Sturniolo angsty fic. I also want to give a shoutout to @cursedtriplets for helping me come up with the idea. Enjoy! 🖤

Summary: Things go downhill, and downhill fast when reader catches their crushes girlfriend cheating on him at a party.

Warnings: strong language, angsty, partying, drinking alcohol, blackmail, mentions of cheating, reader being sad, angry, all of the emotions, slight arguing, friends to lovers, happy ending

Word Count: 6.3k

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The news about Matt getting a girlfriend hit you hard, it felt like salt to a stab wound - the stab wound being you not saying anything sooner.

Her name was Scarlett, but everyone called her Letty, per her request.

The first time you met her, it was kind of awkward. She didn’t really say much of anything and you felt judgment radiating off of her, but you seemed to be the only one to pick up on that because no one said anything after she left.

Over the next few weeks of her meeting everyone, she really opened up. It was almost like she became a totally different person, a bitch if you will.

She would glare at you when you would say anything involving Matt, or even glance in his general direction.

For example, the one night you all ordered in and decided to just hang out at their house. Nick and Chris were going around telling stories about Matt, you know, trying to embarrass the new boyfriend, and she was laughing and going along with it for the most part.

But, as soon as you opened your mouth to tell the story about how they took you to top golf one time and Matt almost fell over the edge, she changed the subject, suddenly wanting to start the first movie of the night.

You brushed it off, along with the other hundreds of little things she’s done within the time she was there.

“Hey.” You whisper as you sit down next to Nick on the couch, “Are you busy?”

He shakes his head, glancing up at you from his phone, “Why are we whispering?”

“Because I don’t wa-“

You stop talking as Matt and Letty come out from his room, “Hey, I’m taking her home. I’ll be back in a little.”

“Nice seeing you Letty.” Nick smiles and she waves, giving him a big cheery smile back, “Bye Nick!” She glances over at you and pulls Matt with her down the steps.

You wait for the door to close and you head snaps towards Nick, “Did you see that?” He shrugs, shaking his head, “See what? How she didn’t say bye to you?”

“Yeah, and how she just looked at me.” You shake your head, “I don’t.. I don’t think she’s really good for Matt.”

“When I ask you this, I’m not trying to make you mad or anything, okay.” Nick looks at you and you nod, “I won’t get mad.”

He raises his brows and lets out a sigh, “Are you saying this because you’re jealous she’s dating Matt?”

“N-no. I’m not.. jealous.. why would you even ask that? I’m asking because she doesn’t seem to accept that I’m one of Matt’s best friends.”

“Why do you think that?” Nick tilts his head and you sigh, trying to regulate your anger from growing into something bigger, “Every time I’m around you guys she’s all over him, and when I try to tell a story about Matt, she cuts me off and practically begs to go home.”

You snap, “That time you and Chris were telling stories about Matt, she was all giggly and going along with it, but as soon as I spoke up to say about how he almost fell off the ledge at top golf, she magically wanted to start the movie night.”

Nick sits there in silence and you tilt your head, “I’m not jealous of Letty. Okay. I’m just.. looking out for Matt, he deserves someone who isn’t going to use him for.. looking better.”

“You think.. Letty.. is using Matt for clout?” Nick’s brows furrow and he shakes his head, “I think they really like each other. She’s a total sweetheart, y/n. I think you just-“

“If you say I have unresolved problems, I am going to smack you upside the head.” You glare at him and he tries not to laugh, “I’m just saying, that you need to look at the bigger picture. Matt seems to be happy, and he’s a big boy, he can handle himself.”

You chew on your cheek, not really wanting to argue, “Yeah. You’re right.” You stand up, walking over to the hook to grab your keys, “I’ll see you later.”

“Y/n.” Nick groans, “Wait, I didn’t mean- you said you wouldn’t get mad!”

You look over at him, “You didn’t do anything, Nick. It’s good, we’re good. Just please, don’t say anything to him.”

He nods and you give him a small smile, “Thank you.”

You walk down the steps and you glance up, seeing Nick staring down at you from over the ledge, “Do you like Matt?”

“Bye, Nick.” You laugh and walk out of the front door to your car. You stop when you see Matt pull in next to you, but you force yourself to just walk to your car.

“Hey. Leaving so soon?” He asks as he gets out, and you glance back at him, giving him a nod, “Yeah, I have to go shopping for an outfit for this party.”

That was a lie. You already had one.

“Oh, okay.” Matt nods, tapping the top of his car, “Well, have fun.” As you open your door to get in, Matt walks up to you, “Wait. Before you go..” he pauses and you look up at him, “What’s up?”

You can feel the anger building up inside of you, wanting to burst out from him not seeing just how bad his longest best friend is being treated by someone he just met.

“What do you think of Letty?”

The words made your skin scrawl, you wanted to just get in your car and drive away without having to answer that question, but you had more respect for Matt than that.

“I think.. she’s pretty.” You laugh slightly, which causes him to laugh, “Yeah. Yeah, she is.”

You swallow what you really want to say, tilting your head as you rest your arm on the top of your car, “I think she’s good for you, Matt.” You shrug, “I mean, we all just met her, not at that long ago, but I think it’s going good.”

He gives you a slightly weird look, but nods, “Yeah, I’m just glad that everyone gets along. It would be pretty weird if we didn’t, you know?”

You stifle back a laugh, “I think it’s all good. Going good. Um..” you point to your car, “I’m going to be late for picking up Gabs, so.. I better..”

“Yeah yeah, you’re good.” He smiles, tapping your car, “I’ll see you later.”

“Are you going to the party tomorrow?”

He turns around, shaking his head, “Not my scene, but you have fun though. Call if you need anything, alright?”

“Yeah.” You nod, “I will.” You get into your car, glancing up as Matt walks into his house and you let out a sigh, allowing the self ass kicking to begin.

I lied to Matt, I never lie to Matt. Wait, I’ve lied about having feelings for him. Pretending everything is super platonic between us- Why can’t I just be honest with him? Fucking Christ.

A part of you was terrified to even say anything about your feelings towards him in the first place. You were, still are, scared it would affect the perfect, well, almost perfect relationship you have now. You haven’t ever really lied to Matt, the only time you really did lie, was when you were planning a surprise party for him and his brothers.

Besides, Matt showed absolutely no interest in being with you in anyway more than a friend. All of his actions were consistent, nothing more nothing less.

Your mind stays busy and loud the whole way to your house, from Matt, to your conversation with Nick before you left, to every interaction you’ve had with Letty, and then the upcoming party.

You were really banking on getting so fucked up at this party that you just forget about everything for a while.

You needed a mental break.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Since you got home yesterday, Nick texted you a few times to make sure you weren’t actually mad at him, and you weren’t.

He clocked you on your shit, why would you be mad at him for being right about that?

You were jealous. You are jealous.

You’re jealous of a girl who has what you’ve wanted for so, so long, but at the end of the day, it comes down to being no one fault but your own.

For keeping your feelings in a block of cement in the back of your mind.

Your phone chimes, and you let out a sigh, half expecting it to be another just making sure we’re good text from Nick, but it wasn’t. It was Gabbie, You still going tonight? I’ll pick you up around eight.

You tap the screen, giving her a short and sweet answer, So ready to get wasted.

You toss your phone down and head to the bathroom for a shower. You took your time with it, then getting out and blow drying your hair before making your way to get dressed.

As you sat down at your vanity to do your makeup, your phone chimes and you glance back, shaking it off before turning back to continue your makeup. After a minute or so, the second notification goes off.

You groan, spinning around and leaning forward to grab it. To your surprise, it’s a text from Matt, Hey, Letty is going to this party tonight, do you think you can look out for her? She said she’d be fine, but she’s told me stories of her and alcohol not being friends and I just worry.

“Oh great, so now I’m a babysitter?” You scoff, rolling your eyes as you type back, Yeah, I’ll watch out for her.

He texts back a quick thanks, and you return to finish getting ready.

Finally, after finishing your makeup, you were ready and Gabbie was just pulling up. You walk out, getting into her car, “Guess what duty I have tonight.”

“Oh no. What?” Gabbie looks over at you as you buckle and you scoff, “Fucking babysitting duty.”

“For who!?”

“Matt, well. Letty.” You roll your eyes, “He texted me and asked me to watch out for her since he isn’t going to be there. I don’t know.” You look over at her, “Something doesn’t feel right about it.”

“Yeah, that’s a little sketchy.” She nods, “Why doesn’t Matt just go?”

“Says it’s not his scene, which, I get. He isn’t big into parties.. never has been, really.”

“How’s that situation going?” Gabbie asks, “The whole, you having feeling for M-“

“It’s not.” You cut her off, “So yesterday, before I left their house, I tried bringing it up to Nick but he just called me out on the truth and I didn’t want to accept the truth, so I just left. He keeps asking if we’re good, and I keep telling him yeah, which isn’t a lie, I’m just..” you stop, taking a breather, “I’m just pissed at myself for letting something I could have potentially gotten, go.”

Gabbie nods, “Tonight is your night to just let go. Do what you want. Drink what you want. I’ll keep a lookout for Letty, you just have fun and focus on you.”

“Thanks, but if something happens to her, godforbid it’ll fall back on me somehow.” You shake your head, “I can only hope that she just decides to stay home.”

But that wasn’t the case.

She was there, almost all of her was there.

She showed up in this super tight dress that barely covered anything. Two post its and a corn chip would suffice better than this dress, one wrong move and out comes a boob.

“I wonder if Matt knows she’s wearing that.” You swallow as you look at Gabbie, “I wouldn’t wear that even if he was with me, you know?”

“Just like you said a few days ago, y/n. You have more respect for him than she does.” She takes your hand into hers, “Come on. She’ll be fine.”

Over the next hour, the party grew larger and your urge to be there grew smaller.

You tried pushing through, but Matt was heavy on your mind. He was like welded into it, nothing could push past it.

She doesn’t deserve him.

He’s too good for her, hell he’s too good for me, even.

“Hey.” Gabbie snaps you from your thoughts, “Come with me to the bathroom?” You nod, taking her hand and following her up the steps.

You haven’t seen Letty in a little while, as soon as she showed up she blended into the crowd with the other petty snobs.

“Wait.” You whisper, pulling Gabbie to a halt, “Listen.”

“I thought you had a boyfriend, Scar.” A guy’s voice breathes out, “Fuck, you’re so pretty.” You furrow your brows and step closer to the door that’s cracked open.

“I do, but do you see him anywhere?” Letty giggles and your heart sinks into your ass. You look at Gabbie a she shakes her head as she mouths, “I’m gonna fucking kill her for you.”

You hold your hand up as Letty giggles, “I like Matt, don’t get me wrong, but there’s just something about him that I like more. Something that will.. help me in the long run.”

“Oh yeah?” The guy chuckles, “What’s that?”

“His fame. His followers. Once they upload the video of me in it, I’m bound to get some of his followers, right? And then you know what will happen after that.” She laughs and the sound of making out ensues, “More fame for me.”

A few people come up the steps and you panic, pushing Gabbie into the bathroom. You flip the lock on the knob and press your ear to the door.

“There the fuck you are!” The one guy slurs, “Come on, it’s pong time!”

“You guys go, I’ll be right down.” The same guy from the room answers, “I have to finish something first.” You hear Letty speak up, “No it’s okay. We can go down now. We can always finish this later.”

You rest your forehead against the door and close your eyes.

“Y/n?” Gabbie grabs your shoulder and you turn around to look at her, “What are you doing?”

“I have to tell Matt.”

She nods, “Yeah, I-“

There’s a knock on the door and you panic again, “U-uh, one second!” You press your finger to your lips and point to the shower.

Gabbie nods, immediately stepping into it as quietly as she can as you flush the toilet. You turn the water on, letting it run for a few seconds as you make sure the curtains on the shower is fully closed like it was before.

Another knock sounds and you sigh, turning off the water, “I said one se-“ you open the door and see Letty standing there, “Hi, you and I have to have a chat.”

“About what?” You tilt your head and she smirks, leaning in to look into the bathroom, “I know you like Matt.”

You shake your head, “What would make you think that I like Matt?”

“Stop being stupid, y/n. I see the way you look at him, talk about it. It’s pretty obvious, well..” she laughs slightly, “I guess, not to everyone because if Matt knew how you felt about him, you’d be with him.. or maybe.. you wouldn’t.”

“What are you talking about, Letty?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. I know how strong of a friendship you have with the triplets, and frankly, I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like that you’re not the only one they give their attention to.” You scoff, “Don’t play dumb with me.”

“Alright, fine. You want to cut to the chase, well cut to the chase. Matt will believe anything I say. You try and tell him what you heard and saw up here, I will make your life a living hell, got it?”

“And just how do you plan on doing that?” You shrug, “What, are you going to go to Matt first and tell him that I’m on my way to tell him that I caught you fucking cheating on him?” You shake your head, “He doesn’t deserve that. Any of it.”

“No, no. Because you aren’t going to breathe a word about tonight.”

“What makes you think that I won’t?”

She squints, a smirk spreading across her lips, “Because they’re all you have anymore. I mean, Jesus Christ, y/n. You’re always up their ass. At their house. In their car. If it wasn’t for them, you wouldn’t have anything but a low paying job in the worst part of town.”

“That’s not true.” You swallow your tears, fighting back the urge to lash out, hard, “I grew up with them. I’ve known them a hell of a lot longer than you have.”

She shrugs, “Maybe. But, all I know is that you aren’t going to say anything to anyone about this, or else I’ll tell Matt that you are so in love with him that you tried talking me out of being with him for your own personal gain. I mean, there’s a reason you haven’t told him, right?” She laughs, “Afraid of losing him and his brothers, because again, they’re all you have. Plus, it’ll be so weird being around you, to sit there and see you sulking all the time even though they’ll try to push past it because they’ll feel bad for you.”

A sad part of you felt like she was right, no matter how hard you tried to not believe it, you knew that there was a high chance that it would ruin everyone’s relationship with you and make it awkward as hell.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” She laughs and you look at her, “More like bitch, but whatever works for you.”

Her face falls and she puts her hand on the door while leaning in, “You have three options here, y/n. You can just act like nothing happened tonight. Come clean about your feelings for Matt to see who he chooses, or you call Matt, tell him what you saw, but without proof, who do you think he’ll believe?”

“You’re such a fucking bitch.”

“Yeah, I might be, but who’s fucking Matt almost every night, huh?” She smirks and steps back, “Well, it was fun. But I have to leave soon, I told Matt that I’d come over after this party. You think he’ll like my dress?”

She waits for you to answer and you snicker, “Doubt it.”

“But there’s so little to take off. I’m sure he’ll like the easy access, yeah?” She tilts her head while pouring, “Oh right, you don’t know that side of him. What a shame.”

You roll your eyes, “So what. I don’t tell Matt about what I saw and you won’t tell him what you think you know? I can just deny it, did you ever think about that?”

“Hmm. I guess you have a point. But, you’re good at acting, so either way, I’m sure you’ll make it out unscathed.” She smirks, lifting her hand, “See you tomorrow for game night.”

Fuck. Game night.

You watch her walk away and you slam the door, taking a step back to assess what just happened.

Gabbie whips the curtain back and stands there staring at you, “are.. you okay?” You shrug, shaking your head, “If I could just magically push away this anxiety about my feelings for Matt and tell him, I would but I just.. god I fucking hate that bitch.”

You move to sit on the edge of the tub, “What the fuck do I do? I can’t just lie to Matt about something like this.. if he finds out I knew about this.. the only thing I’ll be kissing is my friendship with him goodbye, and everything Letty said will be true.”

“It won’t. Okay.” Gabbie sits next to you, “You want to know why?”

You look at her, giving her a nod.

She pulls her phone up, “I recorded most of that.”

You snatch the phone from her hand, “You did not!” A hand raises to cover your mouth as you listen to the recording.

“I’ll send it to you, so when you’re ready, you can use that as your proof. Fuck that bitch.” Gabbie shakes her head, “She must have got her audacity on sale because that was not it.”

You nod, “I agree.” You look over at her, “Want to go get something to eat? I need to leave this party.”

She nods, “Let’s go.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You tossed and turned all night. You couldn’t stop thinking about the encounter you had at last nights party. The more you thought about it, the more it made you feel sick. Your anxiety just kept getting worse and worse.

What if Matt doesn’t believe me, even with proof, you can’t see anything so what if he thinks it’s fake?

What if Letty does tell Matt and he just blocks me?

What if-

“Y/n?” Gabbie taps your hand, “What’s going on, you’ve barely touched your breakfast.”

“I’m just.. thinking..” you bring your cup up to your lips, taking a sip before setting it back down, “What if Letty has him so wrapped around his finger that he’s just so blinded by her to not even-“

“You’re getting a head of yourself.” Gabbie sighs, “You need to think about what you want to do about your feelings for Matt, first. Okay?”

You nod, covering your face with your hands, “I’m so in love with him, but the fear of being rejected by him is just so.. loud, higher? Whatever the term.. is, I don’t fucking know.”

“I think Matt will be more understanding than you think.”

You look at Gabbie through your fingers, “You’re just saying that.” She shakes her head, “I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. You’ve been around them for so long, this is what.. Matt’s first girlfriend in how long?”

“What are you trying to say?” You tilt your head, resting your hands in your lap, and she sighs, shifting towards you, “What I’m trying to say is.. what if Matt was waiting for you, but you didn’t say anything, so he tried to move on?”

“Do you think that’s a possibility?”

She shrugs, “I definitely wouldn’t write it off just yet. I mean, you haven’t dated either, you’ve talked to guys, but why do they never work out?”

“Because they aren’t.. Matt..” you look at her and she nods, “Exactly. I don’t think this thing with Letty will last long anyway. You just need to get your shit together before storming in there and spewing out shit that doesn’t even make sense, you know?”

You nod, tilting your head to look out of the window, “Yeah, I know. I want to tell him. I just get so nervous around him, he makes me feel, I don’t know, like that happy giddy feeling? I just don’t want that to go away, I don’t want it ruined.”

You take a deep breath, “I don’t know, there’s just so many what ifs I just-“ you look down at your phone, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?” Gabbie leans over, “Is that Letty?”

You roll your eyes, reading over the text, Hey bestie, just reminding you of our little deal that we have. Last night got a little crazy, not sure how much you drank to try and forget about it.

You tap the screen fast, I’m not gonna lie you have a lot of red flags.

She instantly answers and you laugh as you read it, like what?

“This bitch, I swear to god.” You mumble showing Gabbie your phone, “She’s literally fucking insane.” You nod, “That’s what I’m telling her.”

You type back, well firstly, you’re actually insane.. and two, you just can’t blackmail someone to get your way. It’s not going to end well for you.

You see the chat bubbles popping up and down and you shake your head, “I swear to god.” Your eyes move across her text, think of it as you scratch my back, I scratch yours. You don’t tell Matt, and you get to keep the only good thing you have in your life.

“I’m telling Matt.”

The words tastes sour on your tongue, but you knew it was the right thing to do, “Fuck, I could puke.” You run your sweaty palms down your thighs, “Oh fuck, Gabbie. How do I- what do I-“

You look at the new text, Just play it safe tonight, don’t talk to him, dont talk about him, don’t even look at him, why can’t you like Chris or something, god. It would make everyone’s lives so much easier.

“Just play it safe tonight.” You mock her, “Go fuck yourself.”

“Maybe you should wait another day. You don’t seem.. I don’t know how to put-“

“Stable enough?”

“Yeah.” She laughs slightly, “Stable enough to do this yet.”

You shake your head, “I feel like puking being in the same room as her knowing she can flip my world upside down at any second. But then, if I don’t tell Matt, that just makes it seem like I was condoning her actions, and I just-“

“Look at me. Look at me and listen.” Gabbie lays her hand on your shoulder as you turn your head, “We have proof. I think you keep forgetting about that, y/n, and these texts. She basically admitted to blackmail.”

You nod, looking down at another texts that comes through, but this time it’s from Nick, How was the party last night? Did you make it home safe?

You instantly type back, I went home before I even got buzzed. My night was kind of ruined but I’ll explain it another time.

“Y/n.” Gabbie sighs, “Now they’re going to know something is up.” You shrug, “I don’t want to lie to any of them anymore, gabs. I can’t just-“ you stop, texting Nick again, Is Matt or Letty there?

“If they aren’t, I’m going to tell Nick everything.”

Your heart was racing as you awaited his answer, sweat building up on your palms more and more as each second passed, “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“Did he answer?” She leans over, “Oh, he just did.” She looks up at you as you look down to read the text, No, him and Chris are out getting stuff for game night tonight.

“Go.” You look over at her and nod, “Go to their house.”

“Are you s-“

“Go! Before I change my mind.”

She nods and starts the car, immediately putting it into reverse, “I’ll come in with you.” You nod, tilting your head back as you talk yourself out of puking, “Fuuuuck.” You groan, “All of this could have just been av-“ you gasp, squeezing your eyes shut, “I hate myself.”

“I think you’ll feel better once you get everything off of your chest.” She nods, “If not, you have me.”

“Now isn’t the time for jokes, Gab.” You look over at her and she raises her fingers off the wheel, “Sorry, sorry. I’m nervous for you.”

The drive to their house felt like hours.

“Fuck.” You sigh, “Just do it. Just tell Nick everything.” You try to hype yourself up, “Fuck. Fuck.” You reach for the door handle, your hand shaking like a leaf in the winds of a storm, “Fuck. Okay.”

You open the door and get out. Your legs felt like jello the whole way up to the door. Nick calling out your name made your heart stop, “Y-yeah.. it’s me.. and Gabbie..”

“Gabbie!? I haven’t seen that bitch in ag-“ Nick stops at the top of the steps, “Do we need to hide a body?”

You raise your brows, “Yeah, we just might.” You walk up the steps and glance back at Gabbie, who stops at the stop and leans on the ledge, “Go on.”

“Go.. on.. with what?” Nick looks between the two of you confused and you take a deep breath, “Last night at the party..” you look down, gathering yourself before you look up, and in that moment, you were struck with word vomit.

“Letty cheated on Matt last night at the party, I heard her in a room with another guy kissing and saying that she was only using Matt to gain more fame from your guy’s following and then she cornered me in the fucking bathroom basically blackmailing me into not telling Matt anything and Gabbie has it all on recording she hid in the tub but that’s not the point okay the point is is that she tried to blackmail me by saying she would tell Matt that I liked him and that I tried to talk her out of her being with him by saying awful stuff about if I did try and ruin her getting what she wants, and, Nick, you know I would never do that. I love Matt. To the fullest fucking extent, I love him with my full entire being, I want him to be happy and her fucking cheating on him made me want to rip her fucking head off right then and there and the last thing I want is for my relationship with any of you to be ruined because the only thing she was right about is me only having you guys and Gabbie. I never said anything before because I was so scared of the rejecting being soo bad that I could never be able to show my face around here again I just, I fucking hate myself for not being truthful but I fucking told you, I fucking told you she had it out for me and she was only using Matt I just- she’s an awful fucking person Nick and I just wish there was a way for me to tell Matt everything.”

“Y/n.” Gabbie says and you turn, freezing when you see Matt and Chris standing on the steps staring at you.

“They came in when you were saying your thing.” Gabbie clears her throat, “Um.. okay, why don’t.. we give these two some space, yes? Yes. Come on you two, with me.”

Gabbie pulls Chris with her and grabs Nick on the way by.

You stand there, absolutely shaking in your boots as Matt continues to stare at you, a shocked look on his face. You wanted the silence to end, it only made things worse.

Finally, Matt breaks it, “You.. you love me?”

“I-I..” you voice cracks as you nod, speaking in a whisper, “so.. much, Matt I-“

Your words were cut short by him walking over to you, his hands grabbing and pulling your face towards him to close the gap, “I love you.. so much, too.”

Your hands move to his sides, immediately kissing him back. He pulls his head away, his hands still on your face, “I’m sorry she did that to you.”

“I’m sorry she did that to you, too.” You sniffle, “I should have told you last night. I’m sorry I didn’t call or text or-“

“Hey, hey.” Matt’s thumbs gently brush up and down your cheeks, “You were scared, but you made up for it right here, right now.”

“Do you want to see the proof?” You sniffle, reaching back to bring your phone out from your pocket. He nods, “I believe you even if I don’t see it.” He gives you a gentle smile, “I’m just, sorry I didn’t see how she was treating you sooner. I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, “She didn’t scare me. The only thing that scared me was the thought of you never speaking to me again.”

He shakes his head, “I could never do that.” He kisses your head and motions to the couch, “Let’s listen to this shall we?”

You laugh slightly and nod, walking over to the couch with him. You sit next to him, wiping away your tears as his arm goes around your waist, his other hand resting on your thigh.

You being the video up and turn the volume up. All you see on the video is the shower curtain and your shadow on the other side.

“Alright, fine. You want to cut to the chase, well cut to the chase. Matt will believe anything I say. You try and tell him what you heard and saw up here, I will make your life a living hell, got it?”

Matt furrows his brows, shaking his head as he lets out a sigh, “She won’t do shit.” You smile slightly, tilting your head as the video continues to play, “…or else I’ll tell Matt that you are so in love with him that you tried talking me out of being with him for your own personal gain. I mean, there’s a reason you haven’t told him, right?”

He shakes his head, “Yeah, there’s..” he sits up, pushing the phone away, “I’ve heard enough.”

You put your phone down, “Sorry.”

“No, y/n. You don’t have anything to be sorry for, alright? You did the right thing, Letty on the other hand, she can..” he groans lowly, “I’m done.”

He pulls out his phone and you hear the line ringing. Your heart races as you await the pick up of his soon to be ex girlfriend.

“Hi Matty!”

“Is there anything you want to tell me about last night?” Matt tilts his head as he stands up and instantly, Letty puts on a facade, “Whatever you were told is a total lie! I swear. People just don’t want to see us be happy, Matt, please you have to believe me!”

“It’s hard to believe you when I have a video recording of you fucking threatening one of the closest people to me right here in front of me, Letty. Don’t even try to play the fucking victim card, what the fuck were you trying to do? Blackmail? Seriously?” Matt scoffs, “I should have seen how you were from the start. You put on a pretty good act.”

“What do you mean there’s a recording? What are you talking about? I didn’t blackmail anyone, I was with Serina and Layla the whole night, Matt, please! You can even ask them.”

Matt reaches over, taking your phone to hold up to his as he presses play, “What? Cat got your tongue?” Letty’s laugh rings from the video, “More like bitch, but whatever works for you.”

Matt smirks, glancing over at you and you smirk, giving him a shrug.

“No i-“ Letty groans, the video still playing, “You have three options here, y/n. You can just act like nothing happened tonight. Come clean about your feelings for Matt to see who he chooses, or you call Matt, tell him what you saw, but without proof, who do you think he’ll believe?”

“Yeah I think this pretty much covers as proof, Letty. Sounds like blackmail to me, does it not?” Matt clenches his jaw, waiting for Letty to speak, but she just huffs, “You can’t even prove that that’s me, though, Matt. Please.”

“You’re such a fucking bitch.”

Matt can’t stifle back his laughter with your words on the phone and you look down with a smirk on your lips, you were very proud of how you handled her, and Matt was, too.

“Yeah, I might be, but who’s fucking Matt almost every night, huh?”

“Well, it was fun. But I have to leave soon, I told Matt that I’d come over after this party. You think he’ll like my dress?”

“You didn’t come over last night, you never actually planned on it, did you?” Matt continues speaking, “And it’s actually really fucking hilarious you say that because we haven’t even had sex one time. You’re such a liar and my life will be great if I don’t ever see you again. I don’t care what you say about me, but keep y/n’s name out of your mouth.”

Matt hangs up and you look up at him, “You really never had sex with her?”

“I couldn’t.” He swallows, walking back over to sit next to you, “It just felt wrong because it wasn’t.. you.. I couldn’t even kiss her without trying to picture your face.”

You nod, “I kept looking for you in every guy that tried to keep my attention, but it never worked out because they weren’t you either.”

You reach up and cup his cheek, “I’m sorry I didn’t-“

Matt cuts you off with a kiss, “You don’t ever have to be sorry when it comes to me.” He kisses your lips a few times, “I love you, and I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.“

You shake your head, “It’s alright, now that there isn’t anyone keeping us apart.” You smile and bring it in for one more kiss.

You hear the quiet and slow footsteps of the others and you pull away, looking behind Matt, “It’s safe to come in now.”

All three of them come in and sit on the couch next to you and Matt, “Is it safe to say that I never really liked Letty?” Chris raises his hand and looks around and you reach over to high-five him, “You and me both.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Thank you @bambisturnioloalt for giving me the opportunity to join this event, and thank you to everyone who reads my work. I love you all so much and I will catch you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 The Endless’ Adventure with Animal Control: Chapter One

The Endless’ Adventure with Animal Control: You are being courted by Morpheus, one of the seven Endless. Then you get stood up on your date, and find out the shocking reason why.

Warnings: None.

To Note: Morpheus x Reader, Destiny = Russian Blue, Death = Sphinx, Dream = Mainecoon, Desire = Bombay, Despair = Exotic Shorthair, Delirium = Bengal.

Word Count: ~3.4k

Masterlist | Next

Apparently, having an Endless ‘court’ you means being showered with attention, gifts, and being treated like royalty while visiting the Dreaming. A quick Google search makes your situation clear. Courting is basically dating with the intention to marry, the step before engagement. So, you’ve essentially told Dream of the Endless he could court you and potentially marry you. Wow, you really have a knack for getting yourself into situations!

On the bright side, you enjoy the intimate time spent with Morpheus as he shows you places within the Dreaming you’d never imagined. Despite all the ethereal beauty and wonder you gaze at, Morpheus always keeps his eyes on you. That makes you feel special, beautiful, and seen—a first in your life.

It’s also an ego boost for the Endless to watch you fawn over his creations, as there’s nothing you don’t find awe-inspiring or amazing.

Morpheus’ courtship sweeps you up in a romantic swirl of magical dreams, picnics, and strolls, making you feel like you’re living a never-ending fairytale. But fairytales always end, right? You don’t think it’s going to crash and burn; you’re just suspicious of how well things are going in your life. Nothing has ever been this smooth and easy for this long. You’re suspicious, to say the least. That’s how you find yourself absentmindedly stirring muffin batter while lost in thought.

“Hey, uh, Y/N?” Matthew chitters, his head cocking to the side. “I think you’re over-stirring the batter…” You blink out of your tumultuous thoughts and glance down at the bowl. Damn it.

“It’s banana muffins,” you mutter, trying to hype yourself up. “They’re forgiving… right?” Matthew has no idea if banana muffins are forgiving, as he doesn’t bake, but he remembers that over-stirring muffin batter is a kitchen no-no.

“No idea, but sure, they’ll taste good either way,” the raven replies from his perch on the window sill. You installed a little bird perch for him after Morpheus began courting you. Matthew cocks his head further at you while you spoon the batter into the muffin tray. “So, you’ve been really lost in your thoughts lately, Y/N. Something wrong?”

You don’t reply at first, choosing to collect your thoughts while spooning dollops of batter. With a more than necessary drawn-out soft sigh, you finally reply:

“I feel like I’m in a fairy tale,” you explain almost numbly, realizing that admitting your thoughts out loud makes them true. “A stupid Disney fairy tale where all my wishes and dreams come true.”

Listening to your softly spoken words, Matthew is confused by how down you seem about those words. You’re happy with your life, right? It sure seems like it with the way you smile when Morpheus is with you—you practically glow! Clearly, everything isn’t fine in reality.

“What’s wrong with that?” Matthew broaches, ruffling his wings. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Fairy tales come to an end, Matthew, and I’m starting to wonder when mine will do the same.” You reply with a shrug, setting aside the now empty bowl and grabbing the filled muffin tray. “I’m not going to pretend that this is going to last forever. Nothing in my life has ever been without problems or heartbreak.”

“What exactly are you saying? Things are going too well between you and the boss man?”

“Pretty much,” you say, putting the tray in the oven and setting the timer. “I mean, do you know what it means to court someone? It isn’t dating, Matthew.”

“Uh, you’re gonna have to clarify for me because I have no idea what courting even is…” the raven responds sheepishly. You lean back against the kitchen counter and stare out the window.

“It means you get to know someone with the intention of marriage,” you explain to the raven, feeling silly for even saying the words. In what dimension would an Endless want to marry you?

“Wow, boss, you’re really going for it,”

Sitting on the park bench where you’ve spent countless hours next to a certain brooding man, your jaw clenches and fingers grip the worn wood tightly. Morpheus is never late. In fact, it always seems like he waits for you to arrive. He’s always careful never to have you wait on him and extends every chance he has to spend more time with you. So why isn’t he at your meeting place today?

Perhaps something has come up in the Dreaming, and he had to tend to that incident first? No, Matthew would have come to inform you of such an event. You spend many of your waking hours in the raven’s presence, and he keeps you well informed about what’s going on in the Dreaming. They wouldn’t leave you sitting all by yourself on this bench wondering...

“Maybe I was right,” you softly speak to yourself, thinking back to the conversation you had with Matthew about how your life is a fairy tale. Perhaps this is the great end you’ve been expecting? No, Morpheus wouldn’t do that to you. He dotes on you like a loyal boyfriend and worships the ground you tread! If you and he were going to end your relationship, no doubt it would be an explosive event with anger and tears. Not this nothingness. “They wouldn’t do this to me, they wouldn’t do this to us.”

You repeat those words in your mind, trying to convince yourself that nothing is wrong and that, for once, Morpheus and Matthew are distracted by something to miss your bi-weekly date at the park. Tonight you’ll enter the Dreaming and hunt down Lucienne to find out what happened. An Endless hellbent on courting you like a queen wouldn’t ghost you.

Sighing in dejection, you rise from your seat and stuff your hands in your pockets. Clearly, your date is going to have to be postponed. So you turn and slowly begin walking back towards your home, trying not to let your mind turn upon itself. Following the winding path, you pass a group of children kicking around a soccer ball and a pair of gossiping women. The pathway bends around a group of trees that obscure the rest of the park, and while you glance at a flowering bush, a cacophony of birds and breaking branches startles you out of your inner thoughts. You look up in time to see a black mass of ruffled feathers shooting directly at you and take the bird straight in the chest.

Obviously, you fall on your ass with a less-than-graceful yelp. While your palms sting from rocks and gravel digging into your flesh, you grunt and shift into a sitting position as the black bird rights itself.

“We’ve got a MASSIVE problem, boss lady!!” Matthew thunders from where he’s still perched in your lap, feathers askew and very ruffled. You blink at him in surprise, wondering why the hell he would be pulling such a stunt in broad daylight around the public. But before the flustered raven can tell you exactly what’s going on and why it’s such a huge problem, your phone’s ringtone goes off.

“Hold that thought, let me get off the ground and check my phone. It might be work…” Moving Matthew so he’s perched on your shoulder instead of your lap, you pull yourself to your feet and slip your phone from your pocket. The moment your eyes glance at the screen, your brow furrows. “Why on earth would they be calling?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you!” Matthew all but shrieks in your ear. “The boss is a cat again!” Dear sweet Jesus, not again! At least the animal shelter has your number on file and is calling you. Accepting the call, you hold the phone to your ear while speed-walking home.

“Hello?”

“Hello! We are calling you to inform you that we have picked up your cat Morpheus after he was found at the scene of an accident with other felines. We suspect that someone might have been trafficking purebreds given the conditions he and the others were found in. We’ll give him a once-over before you take him home.”

Well, no wonder he hadn’t shown up for your date!

Never mind that, brain. Morpheus is a cat again and possibly mixed up in animal trafficking? You need to get over to that shelter pronto!

“I’ll be right over as soon as I get home,” you promise before ending the call.

“Boss lady to the rescue,” Matthew sighs in relief. “I’ve been trying to bust him and the others out for at least two hours, but I got chased off.” The raven explains. “You have no idea how despondent the boss was when he realized he was going to miss your date. Thought he was going to start crying… can cats cry?”

“No idea and I do not want to find out.” You muse, crossing the street and setting your eyes on your front door. You unlock the door and throw yourself into your home, searching for your car keys. “Stay here while I handle this. It shouldn’t take long since they’ve dealt with him before.”

“Well, yeah,” Matthew agrees, coasting to his perch. “But what about his—” you’re already out the door, the wood slamming shut behind you. You know Morpheus isn’t in any danger of being neutered by the staff, but you do know he isn’t too keen on being touched and prodded while being examined. The last thing you want is for him to get injured a second time while in cat form… which makes you wonder how the hell this happened a second time!

Your boyfriend has a lot of explaining to do. Boyfriend. Gripping the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip, you stare at the red light holding you in place, wondering when you began to think of him as your boyfriend. It makes sense; he is courting you. Has been for several months. But you’d never put a name to your relationship like that, just worried that things were going too well.

“It was a cat that got me into this, and a cat that will probably get me out of this,” you sigh to yourself, pressing the accelerator when the light finally turns green. The only question is, how long are you going to have to wait this time? Hours? Days? Are you going to wake up in bed with him naked again? You wouldn’t complain about that if it did happen again. But seriously, Morpheus really needs to stop getting stuck in cat form because once was excusable but twice is just ridiculous. Especially for an all-powerful Endless.

While you aren’t feeling as stressed as you did the first time entering the animal shelter, you’re still jittery about the idea of an Endless confined in a feline form. Trotting up to the desk, you give the receptionist a smile and tell her that you’re there to pick up Morpheus.

“He’s in back with the other five cats. Follow me,” she says. You do as told, following the receptionist to the back of the clinic and to a room marked ‘holding.’ The moment the door is opened and you step inside, your eyes zero in on the large form of your boyfriend currently sulking in a corner while a gorgeous Bengal bounces off the walls with energy near him. They couldn’t be more opposite! Letting out a breath of relief, you take a step forward, ignoring the dark-bodied Sphinx that trots up to you and sniffs your jeans.

“Morpheus?” you call softly, not wanting to spoil his mood further. Azure eyes settle on you, and in less than a second, the Black Maine Coon is launching himself at you. “Oh jeez,” you exclaim, awkwardly catching the flying form of your boyfriend as he latches onto you with his nails and instantly begins rubbing his face everywhere he can. “Mor—Morpheus, is this… is this really necessary?” you question, pulling away from his nuzzles. A rumble sounds in his body.

They must know you are mine.

You have no idea what he’s talking about, let alone who ‘they’ are. Perhaps the other cats? Your eyes glance around the small room as you hug Morpheus to your chest to support his weight. Obviously, there’s the energetic Bengal and the dark Sphinx, but a black cat with the most peculiar golden eyes lounges on a table observing you while what you think is an Exotic Shorthair lazes about. Finally, your eyes catch sight of a looming body perched on top of a bookshelf, glossy blue-gray fur shimmering in the light while an eyeless gaze stares into your soul.

Holy fuck.

“Family,” you whisper faintly, realizing what this is. The whole Endless family has been turned into cats. Destruction is clearly not here, he’s been missing for a long time, but the six remaining siblings are all accounted for. “How—how did this happen??”

I am afraid we cannot speak of what took place, beloved.

Morpheus’ words draw your gaze from the sightless, but not unseeing, Destiny. You look at him with panic in your eyes.

“Morpheus, Morpheus I am not—” You cut yourself off when a worker pops in.

“Hello! You must be Morpheus’ owner! We’re so glad to reunite him with you after the accident. We haven’t been able to identify the owners of the others, but they are obviously well-fed and cared for…” You speak before you can think your words through.

“They’re all mine,” you blurt out. “The cats. I mean, I’m not a crazy cat lady, I just… love cats…” You ramble as your face heats up, but the worker doesn’t even blink at your claim. The Sphinx obediently sits at your feet, looking up at you. The Bombay gets to its feet, stretches, and jumps down to the floor to get closer, and the Russian Blue, who has been the most aloof, gracefully leaps to the floor and joins the Sphinx. Clearly, they know you and are comfortable with you. “It’s complicated.” You finally sputter out.

“Just means a little extra paperwork, but we are glad to see that they have a loving home to go back to,” the worker replies. “We were real worried about a bunch of families missing their cats.”

“Nope,” you say in a high-pitched voice, cringing on the inside because you clearly need to calm down. “All mine, and clearly I need to make sure to fix whatever they used to get out.”

“I’ll go grab the paperwork and get the cardboard boxes ready. Hang tight,” she says, leaving you alone in the room with six of the most powerful beings in creation, all stuck in cat form.

“Someone better start speaking because this is above my pay grade,” you state, turning back to gaze at Morpheus’ siblings. This is not how you pictured meeting them. You never expected to meet them in the first place! “I—Let’s just be clear that I am a mortal human, and I do not play around with supernatural bullshit on the regular.”

That is understandable; this must be quite a shock for you, Y/N. You look down at the Sphinx, hearing a gentle female voice coming from that direction.

“Great, so I have no idea who is who except I can guess who is Destiny.” The Sphinx blinks at you, and you could swear you receive the cat version of a smile. Meanwhile, Morpheus is still rubbing his face everywhere he can reach.

I am Death, and I am pleased to meet the one who holds my brother's heart.

“Do Endless even have a heart to be held?” you wonder aloud.

Not a physical one. This time, the voice is suave and silky, drawing a low rumbling growl from deep within Morpheus. He pulls away from your neck, where he had been furiously rubbing his scent, and settles his gaze on his sibling.

Do not meddle with my beloved, Desire. Desire, the gorgeous Bombay, doesn’t even bother to bat an eyelash at the hostility in Morpheus’ voice and words.

Oh big brother, must you be so protective? It’s not every day that we get to meet the one who currently holds your attention. You can’t help but flinch at that wording. Hold his attention. Is that all you’re doing? You’ve heard bits and pieces of Morpheus’ past lovers, and by far, you’re the plainest. But you also know about Desire and their love for stirring shit up in the family.

“Desire, I presume?” you ask, stroking Morpheus’ body in an effort to calm him down before a full-on cat fight breaks out in this room. His hackles are already raised.

A pleasure. You must meet my twin; we’ve been ever so curious about you. Twin. Despair, the Exotic Shorthair, who is almost as sulky as Morpheus but barely makes any effort to move from where she lounges. That must mean…

“So you must be Delirium,” you surmise, turning your gaze to the Bengal that’s exploring the room and getting distracted by every little thing she comes across. “I didn’t exactly expect to meet you all like this, but I guess this is what was in the cards?” Your eyes glance down at the silent, eyeless Russian Blue. It’s a little creepy to look at him, but you can’t deny his beauty. Which is odd to think because he’s currently a cat. A cat with no eyes.

This is as planned. That’s a relief to know. Destiny, after all, sees everything. But still, how long is this going to last?

“Okay, and how long should I expect you all to be like this? If you can even tell me about that…”

Not for long, beloved. Morpheus reassures you, only taking solace in the fact that you won’t be subjected to his sibling’s noxious presence for very long. A few days at most.

“A few days, I can do that,” you breathe out, steeling yourself for a few tense days before everything returns to normal. You hug Morpheus to your chest for comfort, which the Endless certainly is pleased about, until the small cardboard boxes arrive to package up the cats for transport.

Morpheus’ ears go flat on his head, and a soft rumble emerges from his throat. Desire slips far away from you, clearly understanding what’s going to happen. Destiny, Death, and Despair wouldn’t care about being shut in the cat carriers, but Dream, Desire, and Delirium are probably going to be another story!

“The quicker you get into the carriers, the faster we can get home, and the faster you can get out of the carriers,” you announce to the cat Endless. The cardboard carriers are lined up, and you’re happy to see that Destiny and Death don’t hesitate to walk over and climb in one—they’re sensible enough. Desire glares at the boxes in disdain but ultimately sulks over, calling for his twin at the same time. All that’s left are Dream and Delirium.

Delirium is still bouncing off the walls and playing with every little thing she can get her paws on before getting distracted by another object… and Morpheus is still covering you in his scent and refusing to ease his claws out of your shirt.

“Morpheus, my love, box,” you chide him while peeling his claws from your shirt. “I need to get Delirium into a box before she gets out of the room and we have to chase her down.” Your boyfriend couldn’t look more pathetic than he does when you place his massive body in the extra-large box and close it up. Sighing, you stand up and look at Delirium.

She’s currently pawing at the space beneath a storage cabinet. Something has caught her attention.

“Delirium?” you call, and the Bengal turns towards you, revealing one blue and one green eye. “It’s time to go to my home. You can play around there as much as you want.” The youngest Endless blinks at you, and for a moment, you think she’s going to ignore your words and go back to bouncing off walls… but she runs over to you, full of energy, and launches herself into the box with an excited meow. “Thank you.”

With the six cats boxed up neatly, a worker helps place them on a rolling cart to make transport easy. Of course, you have to fill out paperwork for each of your five new ‘cats,’ but with Morpheus already in their system, it’s not that long of a process. While you finish up the last bits of paperwork, the cats are loaded into your car, and with a profuse apology on your part, you scurry to your car to get the Endless back to your home.

Date Published: 11/13/24

Last Edit: 11/13/24

Masterlist | Next

[eyelessfaces]

im back...

nose boops...... hmu!poe.... pls... I beg...

(I am also in brainrot over hmu, send help 💔💔)

warnings for angst and injuries.

poe has a mild concussion, and you're called in.

heat me up masterlist

—

The door to Poe’s hospital room opens tentatively and carefully, but the moment you see him awake and sitting up in his bed offering you a half hearted smile, you hastily close it behind you and hurry to his bedside.

“I came here as fast as I could” you shake your head, the worry obvious over your face, a deep crease drawn between your eyebrows. You’re panicked and slightly trembling, and a plethora of questions is threatening to fall out from your mouth. “I was in a meeting, so I only got the vocal message later, I’m so sorry– hey Finn” you add in a quick breath when you see his coworker sitting in the armchair beside the bed before your attention fully darts back to Poe. “Are you okay?”

“Hey, slow down,” Poe reaches for your hand in a naive attempt to calm you. “I’m okay,” he affirms, managing a small smile. “Not my first concussion” 

“Is that supposed to reassure me?” you scoff, still out of breath from the light jog you took to come here.

Poe huffs out a small laugh that turns into a light wince before he presses his free hand to his temple.

“What happened?” you ask, turning to Finn.

“We were rescuing people in a crumbling building, and some debris came down, knocked him pretty hard”

“Holy–”

“It sounds worse than it is.” Poe insists, eyes half closed, as if the effort of keeping them open is wearing on him. Finn gives you a doubting look.

You sigh softly, trying to ease the lingering worry within you as you sit beside Poe on the edge of his bed. 

Finn rises from his seat with a light pat to his lap, walking around the bed. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it, gotta get back to work” he shifts towards the door before he grins at Poe. “See you next shift, maybe. Take it easy” 

“Sure” Poe grins, his hand tightening around yours as Finn disappears and the door clicks shut again. He blinks tiredly, like his eyelids are suddenly pounds heavier. “I’m okay, I promise” he mumbles, a weak, tired smile tugging at his lips. “Just a little knocked out and tired”

You nod, still not starting to feel the worry sip out of you, and your hand still instinctively remains firmly holding his. You let out a soft, shaky laugh as your thumb rubs circles over it. “So that's what it’s like, dating a firefighter?”

Poe buries the back of his head further into the pillow, closing his eyes, smiling. 

You can see the obvious sleepiness etched over his face even beyond his attempts to convince you he is doing fine. A few moments pass before he sighs, half opening his eyes with difficulty as if trying to stay alert. He tries to sit up but you’re quick to gently push a hand over his torso for him not to. “None of that.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh, admittedly relieved to lie back down after the sharp pain triggered at the front of his head just from that light movement. “Fine, get me water then”

You rise and fill a cup from the nearby sink, resting it at his bedside table once he’s done, Sitting back beside him at the edge of the bed. Your hand instinctively reaches to gently run through his curls. “How long are they keeping you?” you ask softly.

His head shakes softly, his eyes flickering with frustration and vulnerability. “Not sure… I don’t remember.”

“That’s okay.” you reassure him with a nod, caressing his lightly stubbled cheek with a brush of your thumb. “I’ll ask someone.” 

After a small pause, you add, “And I’ll take the rest of my day off to stay with you.”

A soft, weak smile grows over his face. “Okay,” he simply says, his voice low, not even arguing. You shift in closer, leaning to him, kissing his cheek before your forehead rests against his. His eyes close and he moves slightly, his nose bumping against yours in an affectionate nudge like a cat leaning into one’s touch. 

The weariness over his face is too obvious to ignore. “Don’t fight it” you whisper, nudging his nose with your own again before leaving a kiss over his forehead. “Rest if you need to. I’m staying with you” 

A small sigh escapes him, his hand drifting to lightly hold yours. “I think I will.”

[gojodickbig]

To Be Loved Is To Be Seen. | Gojo Satoru x f!Reader.

warnings: self-doubt, mutual pinning, mental health struggles, emotional hurt/comfort.

A/N: hehe i know i said that i don't write but this is a little thing i wrote yesterday, (first time posting something that’s not a smau, so bear with me!) this is for my avoidant attachment cuties who have so much love to offer but that are also always scared of ruining things with the person they love and think they’re not enough. i feel you—i struggle with this too. but remember, you’re always enough and deserve love so don't push it away. i wrote this while crying (lol) because i found myself in a similar situation with my actual boyfriend when we first started "dating". hope you enjoy reading, let me know what you think!

also likes and reblogs are appreciated! :)

word count: 2320.

“No,” you say, stepping back and resting your hands on the kitchen counter. “Stop that. You don’t mean what you’re saying right now.”

“You’re wrong,” Gojo says, stepping closer to you. “I mean every word.” He raises a hand, reaching out to touch you. “Please, look at me.”

“I can’t,” you whisper, avoiding his touch. “You should go.”

“I love you.”

“You don’t.”

He falters, and for a moment, the silence between you and him feels like a heavy weight. His gaze never leaves yours, though you can’t bring yourself to meet it.

“I do,” he insists, his voice low but unwavering. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”

“I’m a mess,” you choke out, your voice trembling as you turn away, desperate to hide the tears that threaten to fall. “I don’t deserve your love. I’m broken.”

“You deserve better.” Your voice cracks. “Someone who isn’t afraid of loving you.”

The silence stretches as Gojo watches you, the pain in his eyes mirroring yours. His chest rises and falls with uneven breaths, as if he’s struggling to hold himself together. He takes in the way your shoulders hunch, the way your hands grip the counter behind you like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. The tension is palpable, each second stretching out, heavy with unspoken fears.

“Stop,” he interrupts, his voice hoarse, filled with raw emotion that makes your heart stutter. “You’re all I deserve—and more than I ever thought I could have. Don’t you see? It’s always been you.”

He steps forward, ignoring the space you tried to put between you and him, until there’s only a breath between you. “None of that matters to me. I see you, all of you. And I love you. Every part of you, even the parts you think are too much to bear.”

“You don’t understand.” Your voice cracks, a sob catching in your throat. “I can’t… I can’t let you in. You’ll get hurt, and I can’t let that happen.”

“Then let me decide,” he says softly, his voice full of tenderness. “Let me be the one to choose.”

You shake your head, wiping your eyes, not wanting him to see how vulnerable you feel. “You don’t know what you’re asking. I don’t know how to love anyone… I don’t even know how to love myself.”

He steps even closer, his voice a soft but firm whisper. “I’m not asking for perfection. I’m asking for you. All of you, as you are. Because you are enough for me.”

You back away, the ache in your chest intensifying, but he doesn’t move. His eyes are full of something you can’t name, something that pulls at the deepest parts of you, something that terrifies you. “I can’t… I can’t let you do this.”

“Why?” Gojo’s question is quiet, almost a plea. “Why can’t you believe me? Why can’t you see that I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere?”

The words catch in your throat. The wall you’ve spent so long building starts to crack, but you can’t let it fall. Not now. Not like this.

“Because I’m afraid,” you finally whisper, your voice barely audible. “Afraid that if I let you in, you’ll leave when you realize how much of a disaster I really am.”

He takes another step forward, his eyes searching yours for some kind of answer, some sign that you’ll let him in. “I’m not going anywhere,” Gojo says, his voice steady. “I’m staying.”

Your breath hitches, and for the first time, you let yourself meet his gaze, really meet it. His eyes are open, raw, like he’s offering you every part of himself. The tenderness in his expression is almost too much to bear.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” you say, shaking your head, but your voice is quieter now, softer.

“I know.” He murmurs, his hand hovering just inches from you, like he’s waiting for you to make the choice. “But I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of your pain. I’ll take all of it if it means I get to love you.”

A tear slips down your cheek, and you try to wipe it away quickly, but he reaches out and gently catches your wrist. “Let me love you. Let me stay.”

The words hang in the air between you—heavy and final. For a moment, the room feels like it’s shrinking, the tension pulling at your chest, at your heart. You want to believe him, want to let yourself fall into the safety he’s offering. But the fear, the doubt—it feels like a weight too great to lift.

“I’m not… I’m not ready,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the truth. “I’m not ready to let anyone in. Not like this.” You look at him, your voice barely a whisper. “Please, Gojo, you should go.”

He lowers his hand but doesn’t pull away. He steps closer, closing the distance until you’re standing so close you can feel the warmth of his presence, the steady rhythm of his breath. “You don’t have to be ready,” he says softly, his voice low and insistent. “Not right now. Don’t send me away. Just let me stay.”

You don’t know how to respond, don’t know what to do with the storm of emotions crashing inside you. But in that moment, you feel something shift. Maybe you can’t let him in completely—not yet. But maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to push him away completely either.

“I’m too much for you,” you whisper, almost as if saying it out loud makes it more real. “I can’t fix myself. No one can… not even you.”

Gojo takes another step forward, gently cupping your face in his hands. His touch is warm, grounding. “You don’t need to fix yourself. You don’t need to be perfect. You don’t need to be anything but you. And I’m not going anywhere, no matter how many times you tell me to.”

A shudder runs through your body as the tears you’ve been holding back finally spill over. You close your eyes, trying to hide the vulnerability from him, but he doesn’t let you. He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you, holding you with a tenderness that feels like home.

“I’m scared,” you admit, your voice muffled against his chest. “I’m so scared that if I let you in, I’ll destroy everything.”

“You’re not going to destroy anything,” he murmurs, holding you tighter. “You’re not going to destroy me, and even if you do, I wouldn’t mind being hurt by you if that means I could actually be with you, to love you. I’m choosing to stay, even if it’s messy. Even if it’s hard.”

Gojo pulls back just slightly, his thumb gently wiping the tears from your face. His gaze softens, full of affection. “I wish you could have my eyes for just a moment, to see how perfect and incredible you are. You’re an amazing woman. Don’t you see that?” he says quietly, his voice filled with warmth.

"I’m not perfect,” you say, your voice cracking again as more tears fall.

He lifts your chin with his finger, making you meet his gaze. “I don’t want you to be perfect. I never did. I just want you—exactly as you are. All the imperfections and scars, they’re part of what makes you who you are. And that’s more than enough for me.”

You inhale shakily, the weight of his words settling into your chest. “But what if I can’t love you the way you deserve?”

Gojo’s hand cups your cheek now, his touch gentle and sure. “You don’t have to love me perfectly. You just have to try. We’ll figure it out together, one step at a time. But you don’t have to be afraid to love me, or to let me love you.”

You let out a broken laugh, wiping your eyes. “I don’t know how to stop being afraid.”

“Then let me help you,” Gojo says, his voice soft, yet strong. “I’ll be right here, through the fear, the pain, and everything in between. Like i said, I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying. Always."

His words wrap around you like a blanket, offering warmth you didn’t think you could feel again. Maybe you’re not ready to let go of all your walls, but maybe, just maybe, you don’t need to be. Because with him here, you’re starting to think that it’s okay to take that first step toward trusting someone with your heart.

And as you stand in his arms, the fear doesn’t go away—but it starts to feel like something you can face, as long as he’s by your side.

And for the first time, you let yourself believe him. Hope stirs in your chest, fragile but present. Maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to do this alone.

© gojodickbig on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

[littleplantfreak]

Currently Seeking: A Soul Connection

Grim Reaper Hiragi x Reader Cw: mentions of death and...stomach issues? that's pretty much it Word Count: 800ish Hiragi's having a tough time getting your soul, but in the end neither of you really mind that. Kinda based on the game A Date with Death because I kept thinking about Ragi's halloween costume.

“We can’t keep doing this.” The voice grumbles from inside the bathroom. You’re sitting back against the door as you listen to him writhe in anxious agony. The pills you always give him work, just not immediately. 

“I keep winning fair and square,” and the smile in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed by him. Sweat drips down his brow as he wonders how you could’ve won a game he rigged against you in the first place, though this certainly isn’t the first time you’ve sweet talked your way into him letting you play for your life. “I even let you choose the game this time, Toma!”

He doesn’t really have a choice, does he? Your ability to keep yourself alive is inherent and nebulous, marring his perfect track record as a grim reaper. It hurts both his stomach and his pride that you’re still on earth and not where your soul should be, at least according to the paperwork. 

“As much as I enjoy our chats, please shut up. You aren’t helping my nerves.”

“You like my voice,” and he hears that little amused scoff you do sometimes. “In fact, I bet you’re totally soothed listening to me right now.”

“Yeah, every time I think you’re done talking it does tend to get better.”

“Rude bastards don’t get the porridge I’m cooking on the stove,” you call back, getting up to check on it. The only reason you make it is because he can’t stomach anything else when he gets like this, though why you’re going along with him and playing friends is beyond you. He grumbles and complains about how much he’d prefer you just give your soul up, but in about two minutes he’ll be out of the bathroom and sitting on your couch while you cue up whatever’s next in your watchlist on the TV. 

Maybe it’s because he cares without saying it, or maybe you’re just lonely and this is the easiest relationship you’ve ever had to put effort into, but regardless you’re really starting to enjoy him being here. 

Sometimes you’ll fall asleep watching a movie with him only to find yourself in your bed, no recollection of being carried. Other times when his stomach is at its worst, you’ll be swaddled on the couch, your favorite stuffed animal sitting next to you as if to comfort you in your now quiet house. 

“Why don’t you just…take it?” You asked the question one day, curious since as far as you know he can just reap you whenever he wants.

“You’re not willing to give it up. It’d be worse for your soul in the long run if it was taken against your will. It’d be different if your body died, but to just take it as you are now could tear it in a way that’d make you unable to pass on, or worse.” His matter of fact tone recited it as if it’d been ingrained in him from birth, which according to him it has. 

Now, the bathroom door opens, Toma’s face slightly less pale. His bowl sits on the side table with extra pills on a napkin next to it and a glass of water that he never asked for but takes gratefully. He’d never say it out loud, but maybe he’s not as bothered as he should be that you’re still alive, despite the constant stomach issues the stress brings.

The movie nights, the way you stretch your legs over his lap while you tell him about your day and the shitty people at work…even the way you tease him for slacking on the job after he loses yet another round of checkers or when the car that was supposed to hit you ends up braking right at the last minute. Even those moments seem to fill him with feelings he’s not used to. Bewilderment, slight concern, and something else that someone who wasn’t in his position would describe as fondness end up bubbling to the surface of his chest. 

Your soul needs to move on eventually, but for now he’ll secretly enjoy these small respites where you both forget that fact. No one but him knows about the small smile that makes its way to his face when your head slumps on his shoulder yet again. Your warmth soaks into his skin reminding him of the warmth of the porridge from earlier. 

It’s only polite for him to make sure you get to your bed. In fact, he could go so far as to say it’s necessary for the eventual completion of collecting your soul. Not because he’s concerned about your sore muscles, and definitely not because he loves the way your cheek rubs against his chest when he’s carrying you. 

Of course not. 

Later he’ll put in an extension on the paperwork for collecting you, citing various vague reasons for the delay and then he’ll wonder what’s going to happen on the next episode of Succession. He can only guess at how you’ll try to psychoanalyze the characters and how you’ll react to the spoiler he read on his phone earlier. Until then he sits on the edge of your bed while your cat kneads against his thigh, your soft breaths filling the room with a kind of warmth only you can bring.

[starkwlkr]

there’s love if you want it (sv5)

there’s love if you want it don’t sound like no sonnet, my lord — the verve

I wait for you masterlist

DECEMBER 2010

The FIA Gala was starting to bore Sebastian. He didn’t want to seem disrespectful, after all it was him who was being honored. He kept looking down at his watch wanting time to go by faster. Why? In a couple hours, Sofia Barrett was leaving Monaco and he didn’t want her to leave without saying goodbye.

“You’re doing it again.” Christian Horner whispered to Sebastian. He was of course referring to Sebastian’s foot tapping.

“Sorry.” Sebastian apologized. “Listen, I don’t want to see rude . . .”

“I’m sure no one will notice if you leave a few minutes early, Seb.” That was all it took for the German to excuse himself and make his way to the nearest exit.

From his seat, Mark Webber chuckled and sipped on his champagne. “He is so whipped.”

Luckily, Sofia’s hotel was near the gala so Sebastian had the ‘brilliant’ idea of running in his dress shoes all the way to her. If it was any another person, he would no even try, but this was Sofia Barrett and for her, he would run like his life depended on it. When he finally did make it to her hotel, he ran to the elevator, but the door had already closed in his face.

“Fuck! Fuck! No!” Sebastian shouted. He felt like he was running out of time so he started pushing the button for the next elevator. As he kept pushing it, he heard his name being called by the sweetest voice ever.

“Sebastian?” He quickly turned and saw Sofia with her suitcase by her side. “I’m pretty sure the gala is still happening. Why are you here?”

“You were leaving. . .” Was all he managed to say. “I wanted to see you before you left.”

Sofia’s lips turned into a smile. “Are you going to get in trouble for leaving early?”

“Probably, but I think it’s worth it if I got to see you.” Sebastian replied.

“The world champion getting in trouble just so he can see me? You’re something else, Seb.” Sofia laughed.

“Are you going to Iceland?” Sebastian asked. He remembered her mentioning Iceland a few months ago, something about a family member getting married there.

Sofia slowly nodded. “Yeah, but I’m going to London. I’m spending Christmas and New Years with my boyfriend and his family.”

Her words hit him like a truck. Boyfriend. Since when? She never brought up that word ever. He was beginning to think it was some sort of prank set up by Mark to get him to confess his true feelings. It had to be a prank! When did she find a boyfriend?

“Oh. You’re dating an Englishman?” Was all he could say. Out of all the words in the world, he decided to say that.

Sofia laughed. “I promise he’s a good guy. He’s already met my parents and sister. They like him.”

“That’s . . . Good. But what about that MotoGP guy? What’s his name? Casey?”

“Casey is a friend. Always had been.” He noticed a little anger in her voice. Sofia got annoyed whenever someone brought up her friendship with Casey Stoner. The media assumed it was more than a friendship, but her and the Australian were simply friends.

“I’ll see you soon. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, champ. Love you.” Sofia placed a kiss on Sebastian’s cheek as she gave him a hug.

“Yeah, you too.” He cleared his throat. “Have a safe flight. Call when you land?”

“Time zones, Seb.” She reminded him.

“I’ll wait. You know I always wait for you.”

And he did. No matter what, Sebastian Vettel always waited for Sofia Barrett.

@forza-pastry @distancedss

[confusionmeisss]

i understand why celebrities don’t wanna come on social media anymore unless they have to. cause like it sucks. it’s not that much fun anymore. left and fucking right, no one can get along for more than 5 seconds.