#he is overcome with the joys of the world!!!!!

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Azerbajian GP Weekend Part 2

Masterlist

The engine hummed beneath me, a steady rhythm that barely masked the tension coiling in my chest. Halfway through the Azerbaijan Grand Prix, I was still holding P10. A solid position, but I couldn’t help the restless fire burning in my veins. The car felt good—responsive, nimble—but it wasn’t enough. Not for me. Not when I had to prove so much more than the others ever expected.

Santino’s words echoed in my mind like an unbearable buzz. I’d barely had a chance to catch my breath from the barrage of rumors swirling around me when his latest attempt to undermine me dropped like a bomb. Santino Ferrucci, a man who had never seen the value in anyone else unless it served him, was now playing his cards to feed the gossip machine. The same ex-teammate who’d made it clear from the moment I stepped into the F2 paddock that he wanted nothing to do with me. The same guy who didn’t even give me the chance to prove myself before deciding I was nothing more than a distraction. Now, somehow, he had the media eating out of his hand, painting me as some kind of problem child, someone who didn’t belong.

I gripped the steering wheel, teeth clenched, my eyes narrowing as I weaved through the unforgiving turns of the Baku City Circuit. The whispers—those rumors—were becoming louder and louder in the background of my mind. The media. The drivers. My ex-teammate. They all thought they could write my story for me, that they could decide my worth before I ever had a chance to prove myself.

But they were wrong.

I could feel the heat rising in me. The pressure to be perfect. To show them all that I was more than just a headline. That I was more than Santino’s petty attempts to tear me down. He didn’t know half of it. Didn’t understand how hard I’d worked, how much I’d sacrificed, or what I had to overcome just to be here. Every inch of my success had been earned, fought for—not given. And I wasn’t about to let a jealous ex-teammate or a handful of shallow opinions take that away from me.

As I entered the DRS zone, I could see the cars ahead of me, their tail lights glowing like targets. I knew I had to stay focused. Keep my head clear. If I was going to finish this race the way I wanted—no, the way I needed to—I couldn’t let their words break me.

With a snap of my fingers on the steering wheel, I activated the DRS. The rush of speed surged through me, and I pulled in on the cars ahead, inching closer to the top six. I didn’t have to look back to know that the battle for the points was heating up behind me, but I could feel the fire inside me intensifying with each lap, fueled by the hatred Santino had tried to spread.

They thought I’d fall. They thought the rumors would hold me back. They thought I couldn’t handle it.

But I was going to prove them wrong.

I floored the throttle, my mind locked in on the finish line. With every corner, every straight, I could feel the anger, the frustration, and the hunger building inside me. I wasn’t just racing against these drivers—I was racing against the world that had already counted me out. By the time I crossed the finish line, they wouldn’t just remember my name. They’d remember how hard I fought to earn my place.

P6.

It wasn’t just a position on the board. It was my victory. My revenge against the whispers, the lies, and the people who underestimated me.

And as the checkered flag waved in the distance, I knew one thing for sure: I would never, ever let anyone define me again.

The celebrations following the end of the race were a blur of cheers, high-fives, and the kind of joy that made all the hard work worth it. A smile finally returned to my face as it sunk in—I had done it. P6. I had crossed that finish line ahead of so many doubters, my heart racing with a mixture of exhaustion and triumph.

It felt surreal. After all the rumors, all the noise, all the moments of doubt—I had pushed through. And not only had I made it to the top ten, but I had also outperformed my own teammate, who had finished just behind me in P7. The pride I felt wasn’t just for the result, but for what it represented. I wasn’t just a placeholder. I wasn’t just surviving in this paddock. I was racing. I was competing. I was proving that I belonged here, every bit as much as anyone else.

Franco caught my eye across the paddock, grinning from ear to ear as he raised his fist in my direction. We’d both pushed so hard, and now, we had something to celebrate. It felt good to finally have something that belonged to me—something I had earned, without anyone’s help or approval.

I glanced over at the screen showing the final race standings, and there it was: P6. The numbers didn’t lie, and neither did my efforts. This race wasn’t just a win on the board—it was a win for everything I had fought against, everything I had pushed through. I had done more than prove myself to my team; I had proven something to myself. And that was worth celebrating.

Yet, when I finally reached the end of media pen, my smile quickly faded. I had barely stepped into the area when I saw who was waiting for me. Of course, it was him—the same interviewer who had tried to tear me down from the very beginning. The one who had asked all the probing, personal questions, pushing me to crack in front of the cameras. It wasn’t just that he had a way of twisting words; it was that he seemed to take pleasure in it.

I could see his smug expression as he adjusted his microphone, ready to ask the same pointed questions he always did. He had even been the one to interview my ex-teammate, Santino Ferrucci—the guy who had never once given me a chance to prove myself in F2, and whose lies about me had been used to fuel the worst rumors that followed me.

The thought of it was enough to make my blood simmer. I had worked my ass off to make it here, to get to this moment, and yet here I was again—staring down someone who was more interested in sensationalism than the hard work behind it all. It felt like a constant uphill battle, one I was tired of fighting, but I knew I couldn’t back down. Not now. Not when I had just shown the world what I was capable of.

I squared my shoulders, trying to push down the frustration rising in my chest. This wasn’t the time to show weakness, not with all that I had fought for hanging in the balance. 

I took a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure as the interviewer’s voice broke through the hum of the paddock.

“So, y/n,” he began, his tone already carrying the sharp edge I knew all too well, “there's still a lot of talk about your time away from racing. Many people are wondering why you left F2 so abruptly. Some say it was just a matter of timing, that you were simply ‘training’ for F1... but others think there’s more to the story.”

I could feel my jaw tighten as he carefully crafted his words. He wasn’t just asking for information—he was fishing, poking at a wound I wasn’t ready to reopen. I could hear the whispers in his voice, the way he implied I was hiding something.

I clenched my fists, but kept my face neutral. “I've already said this before,” I replied, my voice steady despite the rising anger bubbling beneath the surface. “I left to train. I needed to focus on becoming the best version of myself, and I made the choice to step away so I could be ready for the challenges ahead. And honestly, that’s all there is to it.”

His eyes narrowed, not buying it for a second. He pressed on, undeterred. “Right, right. But... you didn’t mention much about what happened during that time. Rumors have been circulating—specifically about your sudden departure and your reasons for being away. You see, many believe you had personal matters going on, things that weren’t exactly... racing-related. Some have even suggested your absence was tied to... other things.” He let the last part hang in the air like a threat.

I could feel the heat rising in my chest, my fists tightening into balls of anger. I could already tell where this was going, and I wasn’t going to let him drag it out. He wasn’t going to paint me as some secretive, unprofessional driver just because of his own assumptions and the garbage people like Santino had been spreading.

I stared him down, my voice cutting through the tense air. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my tone unwavering. “You can ask all the questions you want, but the truth is, you’re just speculating. And frankly, I’m tired of answering questions based on rumors. So if you’re looking for some juicy story about me, you’re not going to find it here. I’ve moved on, and so should you.”

The interviewer wasn’t backing down. He smirked, pushing further, almost daring me to break. “You know, some of these rumors have real consequences. People in the paddock have talked about you being too emotional, not cut out for this level of competition. And others... well, they wonder why you’ve clung so tightly to that turtle necklace. Surely that’s a little... odd, don’t you think?”

The words hit me like a slap in the face. He was baiting me, trying to get me to say something that would let him twist it into another story. But this time, I wasn’t going to let him get away with it. The anger that had been simmering in my gut finally boiled over.

I leaned forward, my eyes narrowing as I locked onto his smug expression. “You want to know why I wear this necklace?” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “You want to know what it means?” I didn’t wait for him to answer. “It’s because of my mother. She passed away while I was away. I had to leave everything behind because she was dying. And now she’s gone. So if you want to keep throwing insults and rumors at me, go ahead. But you don’t know what it’s like to lose someone like that. You don’t know what I went through.”

The words hung in the air like a punch to the gut. The interviewer fell silent, his expression faltering as my words sank in. The entire paddock seemed to freeze, the tension hanging thick. I didn’t care about the cameras, the microphones, or the rumors anymore. This was the truth. My truth.

I took a steadying breath, still seething with anger, and stood up. “And as for the turtles,” I continued, my voice still shaking with emotion, “they’re a reminder of her. Not because I think I’m slow, but because she loved them. Because they remind me of her strength. She was a fighter. And I’m going to keep fighting for her. So you can keep spinning your stories, but I’m done talking to you.”

With that, I turned on my heel and walked away, leaving the stunned silence in my wake. I could feel every pair of eyes on me, but I didn’t care. The interview had turned into something else entirely—a moment of truth I wasn’t about to take back.

I didn’t know if I had silenced the interviewer or just made everything worse, but I didn’t care. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I had taken control. And if that meant walking away from this media circus, so be it. I had nothing to prove to them anymore.

I marched into my driver’s room, desperate for some space to breathe and escape from the chaos swirling around me. The weight of everything—rumors, lies, the pain of the day—settled deep in my chest, threatening to choke me. Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not now. Not here.

I paced the room, my fists clenched, trying to keep the floodgates closed. But then, just a minute or two later, I heard a knock at the door. My heart skipped a beat, and I forced myself to take a deep breath before walking over to answer it.

When I cracked the door open, I was met with the sight of Franco, flanked by Lewis and, for some reason, Charles. I hesitated, unsure if I wanted to deal with anyone right now.

Franco noticed my reluctance and offered me a softer, sad smile. It was enough to break through the anger clouding my mind.

“Please, Hermosa,” he said gently, his tone filled with concern. “Let us chat in private. Just a few minutes. Please.”

I glanced over at Lewis and Charles, who were standing behind Franco, their expressions unreadable but soft enough that I could tell they weren’t here to make things harder for me. With a sigh, I pushed the door open a little wider, stepping aside to let them in.

The moment they entered, the tension in the room seemed to lighten slightly, but it didn’t take away the knot that had formed in my stomach. I wanted nothing more than to curl up and be left alone, but I knew they were here to help—whether I liked it or not.

Charles’s voice cut through the silence in the room, surprising me. He wasn’t usually the first to speak up, but the sincerity in his words caught me off guard.

“First, I want to apologize,” he began, his expression softening. “For allowing myself to believe the rumors, even for a second. I should have known better, especially after all these years. And I’m sorry. I know I can’t fully understand what you’ve been going through, but I can relate to losing a parent before they truly got to see you succeed. It’s one of the worst feelings in the world. I may not know what it’s like to hide behind rumors to protect your pain, but I know the grief of losing someone close to you.”

His words hit harder than I expected, and I could feel the weight of his empathy in his tone. Charles smiled at me, a smile that held more vulnerability than I’d ever seen from him before.

“I want to offer you my help. I want to be someone you can turn to, someone who will listen without judgment,” he continued. “It’s definitely owed to you, after everything... after ignoring you just because of some baseless rumors.”

I didn’t know how to respond at first. My heart felt heavy with the realization that someone who had once been indifferent—if not cold—toward me, was now standing here, offering support when I needed it most. I blinked, trying to gather my thoughts before I spoke, but the sincerity of his apology left me momentarily speechless.

Franco stepped forward then, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Hermosa, you don't have to say anything right now. Just know that we're here for you, whenever you're ready."

For the first time in what felt like ages, I allowed myself to relax—if only for a moment. I was still angry. I was still hurt. But, perhaps, things were starting to change.

Lewis’s voice broke the moment of silence, his tone lighter than before. “You don’t have to worry about that interviewer anymore, by the way,” he said, his words catching me off guard.

I raised an eyebrow, confused. "What do you mean?"

Lewis smirked, leaning back slightly with a look of satisfaction in his eyes. “Well, as much as I would have loved to be the one to hand his ass back to him on a silver platter, Max beat me to it.” He chuckled, clearly amused by the turn of events. “At least we found something else to agree on.”

I couldn’t help but let out a small, surprised laugh at his casual tone. It was good to hear that Max had stood up for me again. Franco’s smile widened, clearly relieved by the lighter shift in the conversation. “Good. That man deserved it,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.

I nodded slowly, taking in what they had said. Despite the chaos of the day, it was comforting to know that not everyone believed the rumors or enjoyed feeding into the drama. I appreciated their support, even if it was difficult for me to fully let go of the anger still simmering inside.

"Thanks, Lewis," I said, finally finding my voice again. Lewis shrugged nonchalantly, his grin still there. "We’ve all been there at some point. It’s about time some of the nonsense gets put to bed, don’t you think?"

I nodded, feeling a small weight lift from my chest. Suddenly, Franco let out a soft laugh and, without warning, shoved his phone into my hands. "You’ve got to see this," he said, his voice full of amusement.

I looked at him, confused for a moment, before I glanced down at the phone. Franco had already queued up a video, and my eyes went wide as I saw Max’s familiar figure step into the frame right after I had stormed off.

Max stood at the media pen, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed as he stared directly at the interviewer who had just tried to tear me down. His voice cut through the air, sharper than I had ever heard it.

“If you want to keep making up lies about someone who’s just here to race, you can keep doing that,” Max started, his tone filled with frustration. “But don’t you ever come at her like that again. It’s one thing to talk trash, but you’ve crossed a line.”

The interviewer shifted uncomfortably, but Max wasn’t done. He stepped closer, his voice growing louder with each word, making sure everyone in the vicinity could hear him.

“You’ve been digging so deep, trying to unearth some dirty little secret, but all you’ve managed to do is expose yourself for what you really are—a pathetic excuse for a journalist," Max continued, his eyes burning with anger. "You think you know the full story, but you don’t know anything about what’s going on behind the scenes. You want to judge her? Let’s talk about your pathetic need to pry into people’s lives for a cheap headline."

He paused, letting the words hang in the air for a moment, giving the interviewer no room to respond.

"She's been protecting her family, dealing with a loss that most people would never understand. Her mother’s been gone for weeks now, and she’s been putting all of her energy into racing. All you’ve managed to do is twist that into something ugly. So next time you want to attack someone, maybe you should take a good look in the mirror and figure out who the real asshole is here.”

Max’s words hung in the air, silencing the crowd around him. The interviewer had no comeback, his face going pale. Max’s fierce defense had not only shut him down but had made it clear: he wasn’t going to let anyone continue to harass me without facing the consequences.

I stood there, a little in awe, feeling an unexpected warmth in my chest. Max had always been a competitor, but seeing him stand up for me like this... it was something else.

Franco let out a chuckle as I stared at the screen. "Max doesn't usually get involved in stuff like that, but... you’ve got to admit, it's nice to see him standing up for you."

I was almost speechless. Seeing Max, of all people, not just defend me but make such a statement to the media made me feel something I hadn’t expected—gratitude. I looked up at Franco, who was still grinning like a proud big brother.

“I... wow,” I muttered, still processing the video. “That’s... that’s really something.”

Franco smiled, his eyes softening as he watched me. “Told you. People are starting to see the truth.”

It was a small victory, but it felt like a step in the right direction. It was a reminder that, even in the midst of all the chaos, not everyone believed the rumors or was content to let them fly.

I exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the mix of emotions swirling inside me. "I guess maybe there's still hope for some of them, huh?"

"Absolutely," Franco said, his grin widening. "And you’ve got us. Always."

[sealrock]

even when the world has changed, its beauties remain the same.

[wilwheaton]

I wept when I saw the love the Walz family has for one another. I was so happy for Gus Walz, and so envious, too, that he was raised by a man who taught him it's okay to feel strong emotions, to be overcome with joy, to publicly show how much you love your family.

These disgusting, weak, terrified little bullies who attacked him just beclowned themselves and showed the world how small they are.

As someone elsewhere said, in a world full of Kyle Rittenhouses, be a Gus Walz.

[sepiamestus]

good eevening beautiful friends on my phone. I love you

[rubys-domain]

i don't urgently need the primos on main. but i'll continue grinding primos on there anyway because quite frankly, i still enjoy it more than my alt

[fvsm4x]

#MAYBE IN ANOTHER LIFE? [Gojo Satoru]

SUMMARY: Your boyfriend, who you loved more than anything, who was your will to live, broke up with you.

— C.W: ex-boyfriend! Gojo satoru x depressed! female reader , dark themes , slightly geto suguru x female reader , no curses au.

— WORD COUNT: 5.3k+

NEXT

„I think we should break up.“

Gojo’s words hung in the air, as he looked into your eyes.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you fought to keep the tears at bay. You desperately tried to maintain your composure, not wanting to show Gojo just how deeply his words had wounded you.

“Why? What happened?“ You managed to ask, your voice trembling.

Gojo’s gaze softened, but his eyes held a distant look, as if his mind was already elsewhere. “I’ve found someone else,” he admitted, his words like a dagger to your fragile heart.

A whirlwind of emotions engulfed your thoughts. Insecurity, confusion, and a deep sense of betrayal washed over you. You had always known Gojo was popular, surrounded by women who seemed to possess an otherworldly beauty that you could only dream of. But you had hoped that your connection would be strong enough to withstand any external temptations.

As tears welled up in your eyes, you couldn’t help but question your own worth. Gojo had been your beacon of light, the one who had brought joy and stability into your chaotic world. You had believed that your love was strong enough to overcome any obstacles.

But now, faced with the harsh reality of Gojo’s confession, your insecurities resurfaced with a vengeance.

How could Gojo have led you on, making you believe that your love was real, only to discard you so easily for someone else?

But despite the storm of emotions raging within you, you knew that you had to find the strength to let Gojo go. You couldn’t force someone to love you, no matter how much you wanted to.

And so, with a heavy heart and tears streaming down your face, you whispered, “If that’s what you truly want, then I won’t stand in your way.”

You wiped away your tears and caught Gojo’s gaze. His eyes were filled with regret and sadness, and you could see the pain he felt in his expression. It was as if he realized the gravity of his decision and the hurt he had caused you.

“I’m so sorry,” Gojo whispered, his voice filled with genuine remorse. “I never wanted to hurt you. It’s not about your worth or how you compare to anyone else. It’s about me and my own shortcomings.”

You looked at him, surprised by his words.

“I understand,” you replied softly, your voice filled with a mix of sadness and acceptance. “I know I can’t change your feelings or make you stay. I’ll start packing my things so you can have your apartment back.”

As you rose from the plush couch, your footsteps echoed through the spacious apartment, the sound muffled by the thick carpet beneath your feet. With a heavy heart, you made your way to the bedroom you had once shared with Gojo. The room seemed to hold its breath, as if aware of the impending change that would soon occur.

You opened the grand closet, its ornate doors revealing a collection of clothes and personal belongings. The air was filled with a bittersweet nostalgia as you carefully selected each item, their presence a testament to the love and happiness you had once shared. The room seemed to whisper your name, its walls bearing witness to the countless moments of joy and intimacy that had unfolded within its confines.

As you held each cherished possession in your hands, memories flooded your mind like a river. The soft touch of Gojo's hand, the warmth of his embrace, and the laughter that had once filled the room. Each item carried a weight of emotions, a reminder of the love you had believed to be unbreakable.

Gojo, sitting on the edge of the bed, watched you with a pained expression. The reality of the situation seemed to settle in, and he realized the depth of the connection he was severing. The room felt colder, emotions hanging thick in the air.

As you folded your clothes and placed them in a suitcase, Gojo finally spoke again, his voice carrying a tinge of regret. "I never wanted it to come to this, Y/n. You deserve happiness, and I hope you find it even if it's without me."

His words lingered, a bittersweet acknowledgment of the end. The room, once filled with shared laughter and intimate moments, now felt like a haunting memory. The pain was palpable, and you couldn't help but wonder if it would ever subside.

As you zipped up your suitcase, Gojo approached, his hand hesitating in the air as if unsure whether to touch you.

He gently brushed away a tear that rolled down your cheek.

"I'm truly sorry," he murmured,

With your suitcase in hand, you stood near the doorway, taking one last look at the place that had been your shared sanctuary. It was a goodbye to not only Gojo but also to the dreams you had woven together.

As you walked out, Gojo remained in the room, the emptiness echoing the void left by the shattered relationship. The door closed behind you, sealing the end of a chapter that had once promised forever.

-

In the days that followed, the task of finding a new place to call home became increasingly overwhelming. The once vibrant city, which had once been a source of shared dreams and promises, now seemed indifferent to your struggles. Each apartment viewing brought with it a fresh wave of emotions, serving as a painful reminder of the life you had envisioned with Gojo.

In the midst of this turmoil, old habits resurfaced. You found yourself reaching for cigarettes and turning to alcohol as a means of coping.

It was disheartening, as you had believed that these vices were behind you after Gojo entered your life and seemingly fixed all your problems. But now, they have reappeared, threatening to consume you once again.

What made matters worse was the lack of support you had. There were no parents to lean on, no friends to turn to for help. You were left to navigate this challenging situation all on your own, starting from scratch.

Before meeting Gojo, you had worked countless jobs to pay your bills and support your studies, scraping by with whatever little money you had.

The weight of it all was taking its toll on you. You felt yourself falling apart, the stress and uncertainty chipping away at your resolve.

But then, Gojo appeared, and your life took an unexpected turn. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring the two of you together. The first time you laid eyes on him was when you were working as a waitress at a cozy bakery. As he walked in, time seemed to stand still. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in his striking features.

His vibrant blue eyes, reminiscent of a clear summer sky, held a depth that drew you in. His snow-white hair and lashes added an ethereal touch to his already captivating appearance. And when he smiled, it was as if the whole room lit up with warmth and charm. You were instantly captivated by his presence, unable to tear your gaze away.

To your surprise, Gojo noticed your lingering glances and, with a confident stride, approached the counter where you were working. He invited you to join him, and you couldn’t resist the opportunity to spend more time with this enigmatic man. As you sat together, indulging in delectable desserts, the hours seemed to melt away in a blur of laughter and shared stories.

Days turned into weeks, and Gojo became a regular at the bakery, always seeking your company. The two of you would engage in deep conversations that spanned a wide range of topics, from the trivial to the profound. Each interaction only deepened your connection, and before you knew it, you found yourself falling for him.

However, amidst the blossoming romance, a nagging doubt lingered in the back of your mind. You couldn’t help but notice the parade of women that seemed to surround Gojo. He would visit the bakery at least twice a week, each time accompanied by a different woman. They would engage in affectionate displays, acting as if they were a couple.

As you observed these interactions, a wave of insecurity washed over you. Comparisons became inevitable, and you couldn’t help but feel inadequate in comparison to these stunning women. Their flawless skin, plump breasts, and alluring curves seemed to highlight your own perceived shortcomings. Their beauty was undeniable, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you would ever measure up.

But despite these doubts, Gojo continued to seek your company, showing genuine interest in your thoughts, dreams, and aspirations. His actions spoke louder than words, and you began to question your own self-doubt. Perhaps there was more to this connection than meets the eye.

Maybe, just maybe, Gojo saw something in you that went beyond physical appearances.

Motivated by this newfound hope, you made a conscious effort to break free from your bad habits. Weeks turned into months, and Gojo continued to visit the bakery every day just to see you.

However, one day, something special happened. Gojo waited patiently for you to finish your shift and then walked you back to the motel where you were staying. It was during this walk that he truly realized how difficult your life actually was.

Seeing you work tirelessly, with dark circles under your eyes and wearing the same clothes day after day, Gojo couldn’t bear to see you living in such difficult conditions. He noticed the presence of alcohol and cigarettes in your room and insisted that you stay with him instead. He wanted to provide you with a better life, free from the struggles you had been facing.

And so, you took up Gojo’s offer and moved in with him.

And that's when you became a couple.

But after two years of being in a relationship with Gojo, he found someone else. The person who used to hold you in his arms, whisper sweet words of love, and make you feel like the most important person in his life was now directing those affectionate gestures towards someone else.

You didn’t want to let him go. The thought of losing him was devastating. However, you also understood that you couldn’t force him to stay with you if his heart was no longer fully committed. Questions swirled in your mind. Did you do something wrong? Were you not exciting enough for him anymore? Was there something else that led him to find someone new?

Despite the heartache, one thing remained certain- your love for Gojo would never fade. The pain of knowing that he loved someone else, someone who wasn’t you, was excruciating. No one could ever replace the way Gojo had changed you, the way he had touched your heart and made you feel alive.

You sat alone in the dimly lit motel room, a bottle of liquor in hand, you sought solace in the numbing effects of alcohol. The pain in your heart seemed unbearable, and you hoped that drowning your sorrows would provide temporary relief.

The room felt suffocating. Each sip of the bitter liquid seemed to momentarily wash away the ache, but deep down, you knew it was only a temporary escape. The truth remained that Gojo had moved on, and you were left grappling with the shattered pieces of your heart.

With a heavy sigh, you placed the half-empty bottle on the grimy nightstand and slowly rose from the disheveled bed. Your footsteps carried you towards the suitcase, which stood dutifully beside a small table, as you rummaged through its contents in search of something comfortable to wear for the night. The weight of your emotions bore down on you, causing you to push up your hoodie, removing it with a forceful toss onto the nearby chair, as you attempted to regain control over your tears.

The question echoed in your mind once again, piercing through the haze of confusion and hurt. How could he do this to you? The betrayal felt like a knife twisting in your heart, leaving you gasping for air amidst the waves of anguish.

You made your way towards the mirror. Your reflection stared back at you, a vulnerable and exposed version of yourself. The longer you gazed upon your topless form, the deeper the sadness seeped into your being. Your hand instinctively reached out, fingers grazing the surface of your bare stomach, as if trying to grasp the weight.

Could it be that your weight gain was the reason behind his abandonment? Did he no longer desire to be with you because of the changes in your body? The thought gnawed at your self-esteem, fueling the belief that the girl he now chose to be with possessed a flat stomach, a flawless figure, and enviable curves. Qualities that you, in your own eyes, did not possess.

Feeling the ache in your stomach intensify, you released your grip and turned your attention back to the task at hand. Pulling out a set of comfortable pajamas from your suitcase, you quickly changed into them, hoping that the soft fabric would provide some comfort amidst the chaos of your emotions.

As you lay down on the bed, the worn-out mattress offering little respite, your mind raced with thoughts of the uncertain future that lay before you. The realization hit hard – you would have to find a job, and fast. The fear of being kicked out of the motel, with nowhere else to go, loomed over you like a dark cloud.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling, your mind began to form a plan. You closed your eyes, the weight of exhaustion finally settling upon you.

-

Days turned into nights, and nights into days as you tirelessly searched for a job. The motel room became a temporary refuge, a place where you could rest your weary body and gather your thoughts before facing the world again. And then, finally, your efforts paid off.

You received a call from the bakery where you had once worked, offering you a position. Excitement and relief flooded through you as you accepted the job. It was a familiar place,

The first day back at the bakery was filled with a mix of nervousness and anticipation. As you stepped through the familiar doors, the scent of freshly baked bread enveloped you. The warm smiles and greetings from your former colleagues made you feel instantly welcome, as if you had never left.

You returned to your old position as a waitress and memories of Gojo lingered in the back of your mind. It had been a while since you had seen him, and you had made peace with the fact that he no longer wanted anything to do with you.

You let out a sigh as you walked over to the table where some guests were seated. Taking their orders, you jotted them down on a small notepad and headed towards the counter to place it.

As you turned around, the door opened, and there stood Gojo Satoru, looking as charming as ever. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on you, and a smile instantly spread across his face. He waved at you, and for a moment, your heart skipped a beat.

Beside Gojo stood a breathtakingly beautiful woman, exuding confidence and radiating charm. It was clear why Gojo was drawn to her, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

With a polite smile, you excused yourself and walked away, seeking solace in the different side of the bakery. Your heart raced as you tried to process the unexpected encounter. The memories of your past relationship flooded back, bringing with them a whirlwind of emotions.

In the safety of the different side, away from prying eyes, you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

As you continued your work, serving customers and attending to their needs, you found solace in the routine. The hustle and bustle of the bakery provided a distraction, allowing you to momentarily forget the turmoil that Gojo’s presence had stirred within you.

But deep down, you knew that healing would take time. The wounds were still fresh, and seeing Gojo with someone new had reopened them. Yet, you refused to let it define you.

As you stood behind the counter, your eyes scanned the room, searching for any customer in need of your assistance. However, it seemed that everyone was content, engrossed in their conversations and meals. Your gaze involuntarily shifted towards the table where Gojo sat with his new girlfriend.

You couldn’t help but observe the way Gojo’s eyes sparkled with adoration as he looked at her. The way his face lit up with a blush whenever she smiled at him was a sight you had never witnessed before. It was as if he saw her as a goddess, someone worthy of his utmost devotion and affection.

A pang of jealousy washed over you as you compared Gojo’s current demeanor with how he had looked at you in the past. His eyes had never held that same lovesick gaze when he was with you. It was a bitter realization that he had never regarded you in the same way he now regarded this new woman.

You couldn’t help but wonder what it was about her that captivated Gojo so completely. Was it her radiant smile, her confident aura, or perhaps something deeper that you couldn’t comprehend? Whatever it was, it was clear that Gojo had found someone who made his heart race and his eyes shine with love.

As you continued to observe them from a distance, a mix of emotions swirled within you. Part of you longed for Gojo to look at you with the same intensity, to make you feel like the center of his universe. But another part of you knew that it was time to let go, to accept that Gojo had moved on and found happiness elsewhere.

With a heavy sigh, you turned your attention back to your duties, reminding yourself that your worth was not defined by Gojo’s affections.

You carefully balanced the two deserts and the cup of hot chocolate on your tray, making sure everything was secure. Lost in your thoughts, you absentmindedly glanced at the table number where this order was meant to be served. Without looking up, you started walking towards the designated table, unaware of the impending collision.

Just as you were about to lift your gaze, your body collided with someone, causing your grip on the tray to loosen. The board slipped from your hands, and the cup of hot chocolate tumbled through the air, its contents splattering onto the person you had unintentionally crashed into.

Your eyes widened in shock, and panic surged through your veins as you realized the gravity of the situation. You quickly raised your gaze, meeting the eyes of the person you had accidentally drenched with hot chocolate. And in that moment, your whole world seemed to crumble around you.

It was her. The woman for whom Gojo had left you. The same woman who had stolen his heart and shattered yours in the process. The sight of her standing before you, her face contorted in pain as tears streamed down her cheeks, was like a knife to your heart.

She hissed in pain as the scalding hot chocolate made contact with her skin, desperately trying to wipe away the sticky liquid that clung to her. Your hands trembled as you reached for tissues from a nearby table, desperately attempting to alleviate the discomfort you had caused.

But just as you were about to wipe away the hot chocolate, a forceful hand slapped yours away, taking over the task of cleaning the girl's skin. Startled, you looked up and saw Gojo, his face contorted with fury. His eyebrows knitted together as he witnessed the tears streaming down the girl's face, his protective instincts kicking in.

You stood there, next to Gojo, your voice barely audible as you muttered apologies, trying to explain that it was an accident. But Gojo's anger seemed to drown out your words. He finished wiping away the hot chocolate from the girl's skin and pulled her into his arms, shielding her from any further harm. His gaze shifted towards you, his eyes filled with a mix of disappointment and rage.

"Why would you do that?!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the air. His words pierced through your heart, intensifying the guilt that already weighed heavily upon you. You could see the hurt in his eyes, the pain of betrayal mingling with the anger. But you couldn't find the words to defend yourself, knowing deep down that there was no justification for your actions.

„It was an accident-“

He took a deep breath,"Save it, I know why you did it.“

„Just because I found someone else and that I’m happy with them doesn’t mean that you’ll get to hurt them out of jealousy!“ he spoke

„I thought you were better than that," he said. The girl, still in his arms, chimed in, her voice filled with anger. "Call your manager, you need to be fired!"

Gojo's gaze shifted back to you, his eyes searching for an explanation. The weight of his disappointment and the girl's demand for your termination bore down on you. Panic set in as you realized the implications of losing your job. You couldn't afford to be fired; you needed the money to support yourself.

Desperation filled your voice as you pleaded with Gojo, "Please, don't ask for my manager. It was just an accident. I need this job, I can't afford to lose it." Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to convey the sincerity of your plea. You knew you had made a mistake, but it was one born out of carelessness, not malice.

You instinctively grabbed Gojos' hand,“Please-!“ you begged, but your hand only got slapped away by the woman in his arms.

„And now you go touching someone’s boyfriend? What‘s wrong with you!“ the girl shouted as she slapped you.

Your head turned to the side from the force of the slap, a surge of pain radiated through your cheek. The impact left your skin hot and flushed, a visible mark of the humiliation you felt. You fought back tears, determined not to let them see your vulnerability.

With trembling hands, you gently placed your palm against your reddened cheek, trying to soothe the pain. Your eyes flickered towards the girl, searching for any sign of remorse or understanding, but all you saw was a cold, dismissive gaze. Her arms crossed defiantly, she demanded that you call for the manager, her voice dripping with disdain.

„Call the manager.“

Desperation welled up within you, and you mustered the courage to speak, your voice quivering with a mix of fear and desperation. "Wait, please! I... I really need this job," you pleaded, hoping that she would see reason, that she would understand the dire circumstances that led you to this moment.

She cut you off, her words sharp and dismissive. "I don't care, call for your manager," she interrupted, her tone leaving no room for negotiation or empathy.

Your gaze shifted towards Gojo, silently pleading for his intervention, for him to vouch for you or at least offer some support. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw a furrowed brow and a hint of disappointment. His voice, barely above a whisper, carried a weight of disbelief and disapproval. "Can't believe you would pull something like that," he murmured, his words landing like a heavy blow to your already wounded heart.

Your hand, still trembling, fell from your cheek as you straighten your posture. With a deep breath, you mustered the strength to bow,

"I'll get t-the manager right away," you said,

With a heavy heart, you turned away from Gojo and the girl, making your way towards the counter to call for the manager.

Your hands trembled slightly as you picked up the phone, dialing the number with shaky fingers. Each ring felt like an eternity, amplifying the anxiety that coursed through your veins. Finally, a voice answered on the other end, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice.

"Hello- this is Y/n L/n from [Bakery]. I... I need to speak with the manager, please," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The person on the other end assured you that they would connect you, and you waited anxiously, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you waited, your mind raced with thoughts of the consequences that awaited you. Losing this job would mean losing your only source of income, and the financial strain it would bring was overwhelming. You couldn't bear the thought of disappointing your loved ones or struggling to make ends meet.

Finally, the manager's voice came through the line, and you mustered up the courage to explain the situation. You recounted the accident, your sincere apologies, and the girl's demand for your termination. The manager listened attentively, their voice calm and composed as they absorbed the details.

After a brief pause, the manager spoke, their tone firm yet compassionate. "I will come over to assess the situation and speak with all parties involved. Please remain calm and await my arrival."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you hung up the phone.

As you turned around, you noticed Gojo and the girl engaged in a hushed conversation. Their expressions were still filled with anger and disappointment, but there was also a hint of uncertainty. You approached them cautiously, your eyes downcast.

"I've c-called the manager," you said softly,"They will be here soon to address the situation. I... I'm truly sorry for what happened. It was never my intention to cause any harm or distress."

„Sure“ the girl replied.

-

Months had passed since that fateful encounter at the café. You had lost your job, the incident with Gojo and the girl tarnishing your reputation and leading to your dismissal. Now, you found yourself standing by the reception desk of another run-down motel, desperately seeking a place to stay for the night because you got kicked out of the last one.

As you approached the receptionist, a tired-looking man with a permanent scowl on his face, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of anxiety.

“Excuse me,” you began, your voice wavering slightly. “I was wondering if you have any available rooms for tonight?”

The receptionist glanced up from his paperwork, his eyes narrowing as he took in your disheveled appearance. His tone was curt as he replied, “We do have a few rooms left, but I’ll need payment upfront.”

Your heart sank. You had been scraping by, barely making ends meet, and the little money you had left was barely enough to cover your basic necessities.

“I… I’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t have enough money to pay for a room.”

The receptionist’s scowl deepened, his impatience evident. “Look, we can’t just give away rooms for free. If you can’t pay, then I suggest you find somewhere else to go.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized the gravity of the situation. You were alone, with nowhere to turn and no one to rely on. The weight of your mistakes and the consequences they had brought upon you felt suffocating.

With a heavy heart, you turned away from the reception desk, feeling the eyes of the other guests in the lobby on you, judging and pitying your predicament. As you walked towards the exit, a mix of shame and desperation washed over you, threatening to consume your spirit.

Outside, the cold night air greeted you, a stark reminder of your current reality. You stood on the sidewalk, feeling lost and defeated. The world seemed to blur around you as you pondered your next move, wondering how you had ended up in this dire situation.

Suddenly, a voice chimed in from behind, jolting you out of your thoughts. Startled, you turned around to find yourself face to face with Geto, your ex's best friend. His black eyes bore into yours, his raised eyebrows conveying curiosity and surprise. His gaze drifted to the suitcase clutched tightly in your hand, a silent question hanging in the air.

"Geto?" you questioned, your voice tinged with confusion.

A puff of smoke escaped his lips as he exhaled the cigarette between his fingers,"How many times do I have to tell you, you can call me Suguru," he replied,

“Why are you here?” he asked, standing before you and peering into your eyes. But before you could answer, another question slipped from his lips, catching you off guard. “Where is Satoru?”

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. He didn’t know. How could he not know? Wasn’t he Satoru’s best friend? Shouldn’t he have been informed about the breakup that had occurred just last month? Did Gojo, your ex, not bother to share the news with him?

“Didn’t Satoru tell you?” you asked, breaking eye contact with him, unable to bear his gaze any longer.

“Tell me what?” he questioned. He removed the cigarette from his lips and threw it to the ground, crushing it under his shoe.

“That we broke up,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. As you watched his reaction, you noticed a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he regained his composure.

“You two broke up..?” he questioned,“Since when did you-”

“Last month we broke up,” you interrupted,

“Is there any reason why you two broke up? Everything was good, wasn’t it?” As he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“He…” you hesitated, your gaze shifting to the side. “He found someone else,” you admitted, your lips trembling slightly.

“Oh,” he responded, his hand retracting from your shoulder as he crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes turned towards the night sky, lost in his own thoughts, before refocusing on you. “And why are you here in the middle of the night?” he asked, his gaze scanning you from head to toe, taking in your worn-out clothes. His eyes returned to your face.

“I got kicked out of the motel because I couldn’t pay for it anymore,” you replied,

His brows furrowed,"I'm so sorry to hear that," he said softly,"You shouldn't have to go through this alone."

Without hesitation, he reached out and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "Listen, I have an idea," he said,"Why don't you come stay with me until you find a job and get back on your feet?"

Surprised by his offer, you looked at him,"I- I can‘t do that-!" you spoke.

A warm smile spread across his face. "Of course you can," he replied. "I have a spare room and it would be my pleasure to help you out. Sometimes, all we need is a little support to get back on track."

„But-!“

„No buts.“

"Thank you," you whispered, "I don't know what to say..."

He smiled warmly, his eyes sparkling,"No need to thank me," he insisted. "We all go through tough times, and sometimes we just need a helping hand. If there's anything else I can do, please don't hesitate to ask."

He took the suitcase from your hand and turned around, walking towards his house. "Let's go," he said, looking back at you.

You nodded and followed after him.

NEXT

[oofthwoods]

STEPS TO YOU! ── ˙ ̟ lando norris !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: lando norris hates the idea of soulmates. for him, it's hard to see everyone in his life with a matching tattoo, or a timer, or the inability to see colors, while he has to be content with the fact that he may never find his perfect match. that is, until he starts to see mysterious footprints around the paddock, hinting at a path he never expected.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭�� :: this is my confession that my favorite soulmate!aus are the ones where they don't think they have one. the sadness of thinking you are not destined for a great love only to find out that there's someone out there for you??? mwah chefs kiss

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: to be added.

LANDO NORRIS WAS A ROMANTIC AT HEART.

He had a secret love for romantic comedies. Watching couples overcome comical obstacles before finding their happy ending always brought a smile to his face. Though he would never admit it, he found joy in the cliched plots and endearing moments portrayed on screen.

The Brit also enjoyed weddings. Family, friends, or mere acquaintances— it didn't matter. To him, the ceremony was a tangible display of true love that existed beyond the silver screen and scripted Hollywood romances.

Despite everything, Lando knew that he would never experience anything like it. Everyone around him seemed to have a sure sign that they were meant for great love: Carlos with his past life visions shared with his beloved, George with his key pendant symbolizing his destiny, and even Oscar, who occasionally vanished, leaving a girl in his place. But not Lando. No visions, no tattoos, no words etched on his arm foretelling what his soulmate would say upon their first encounter. He felt like an outsider in a world where everyone seemed to have found their perfect match, while he knew he would be alone forever.

As Lando's realization sunk in, it was an emotional rollercoaster. He wasn't just a late bloomer; he wasn't meant to blossom at all. In his childhood innocence, he embraced his supposed independence and declared that girls were gross and he could live without someone by his side forever. But as adolescence took over, he found himself increasingly on the sidelines, watching as close friends shared stories of connection and love, filling him with a painful mix of envy and despair.

Every tale of someone else's romance felt like a dagger to the heart, a wound that refused to heal. Lando couldn't help but wonder what he had done to deserve this solitary fate in a world where everyone else seemed to find their soulmates.

Occasionally, he gazed up at the dark expanse above, yearning for solutions. Had the universe overlooked him or was love just not in his destiny? Some claimed that soulmates were like atoms connected since before the Big Bang, their bond enduring despite eons passing. But what did this mean for Lando? Was he destined for a solitary life even before the cosmos took shape?

As an adult, Lando struggled to convince himself that he had come to terms with his fate. He told himself over and over again that finding true love was possible without a soulmate being involved. It didn't have to be some cosmic arrangement. Yet, deep down, even as he tried to comfort himself with this reasoning, he couldn't shake the desire for something more. He yearned to be uniquely crafted for someone, to be cherished wholeheartedly despite his imperfections and weaknesses.

Lando shook his head, pulling himself out of his thoughts and back into the present moment. The unforgiving Melbourne sun beat down on him, its golden rays spreading across the circuit. Heat radiated all around him, almost suffocating in its intensity. He cursed his decision to wear an orange hoodie that morning as a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. Walking from the entrance to his garage, he couldn't escape the discomfort caused by the heat. The thick fabric clung to his skin, trapping him in its grasp as the temperature continued to rise.

Beside him, Oscar emanated an infectious energy. The pilot was fully immersed in the atmosphere of his home country's race, evident through his beaming smile. Despite the hustle and bustle around them, they maintained a calm demeanor, as if they were in a world of their own, oblivious to the cameras of the photographers trying to capture every moment.

Lando observed Oscar's anxious glances, as if he was searching for a particular person.

Deciding to break the silence, Lando asked, "Has your family arrived?"

Oscar's mind seemed elsewhere as he replied, "Oh, yeah. They're here. I'm just looking for someone else."

Someone else. Lando's brow furrowed as he thought about the mysterious bond between Oscar and his soulmate. Every now and then, without warning or explanation, the Australian would switch places with the girl he was connected to. Initially, Lando feared that this could happen during a race and result in a disastrous outcome. However, he soon realized that the universe was smart enough to only make these switches when both were safe.

"You met her?" Lando finally asked, curious about Oscar's soulmate. He looked at him with confusion before smiling sadly.

"Not yet, and she's not the one i'm looking or," Oscar replied, bringing a small sense of relief to Lando. He immediately felt guilty for wishing that others wouldn't find their soulmates, knowing it was selfish and petty.

Additionally, Lando could recall a peculiar incident from the previous year, when Oscar suddenly disappeared, and a girl had surprisingly turned up in the McLaren garage, clad in pajamas and exuding an unusual calmness about the situation. He remembered her as a charming and witty girl, and the thought that Oscar had someone special to share his life with brought a comforting warmth to Lando's heart, though it was tinged with a hint of jealousy.

"I have a friend coming over today," Oscar interjected, breaking through Lando's thoughts. "We went to elementary school together, but it's been a while since we've seen each other. She finished college last year, and managed to take a few days off to visit."

Lando nodded along as Oscar talked about his friend, dividing his attention between their conversation and the busy paddock. He couldn't help but notice weird stains on the ground and wished people would be more considerate of the space.

The two McLaren pilots still had a few minutes before the first meeting and the final free practice before qualifying. They decided to take refuge from the scorching sun inside their respective driver's rooms, seeking a moment of tranquility before the hustle and bustle of the track.

Lando made his way down the narrow path to the driver's room, noticing strange marks on the floor. The team garage was typically spotless, and he couldn't comprehend how it had become so messy.

"Who the hell made this mess?" Lando furrowed his brow and glanced around the room.

Oscar, perplexed, asked, "What mess?"

With a chuckle, Lando replied, "Are you blind? Look at the damn floor, it's covered in stains." He pointed to the ground with his arm.

Oscar tried to play along, forcing a laugh. "Mate, did you hit your head on the way here? The floor is spotless, as always."

Lando's eyes narrowed as he examined the stains on the ground more closely. What he imagined was dirt from a worker's shoe, appeared to not be random splatters; they seemed deliberate, almost forming a pattern. And then, in a sudden moment of clarity, Lando's heart skipped a beat as he realized the stains looked like footsteps.

"This is strange," he muttered, crouching down to get a better look.

Hearing Lando's concern, Oscar joined him and peered at the marks. "What are you thinking?"

Lando's mind was filled with various thoughts. He wondered if the intense heat was causing him to hallucinate. A thought crossed his mind that someone had wandered into the garage barefoot, possibly in search of new shoes. Everything seemed mildly possible.

Despite his efforts to suppress it, a nagging part inside him reminded him of the nights he spent wondering about potential invisible soulmate connections. He couldn't help but recall the excitement of discovering invisible threads - like leaving colorful marks upon touch or having their thoughts connect when within a certain distance, almost like telepathy. Things that wouldn't appear on his body when he turned eight, but still meant he had someone.

The 15-year-old version of himself seemed to be pounding on his chest, making him remember the thread through footsteps that he had long forgotten about, and started to question if even existed. Yet, Oscar didn't seem to notice the distinct marks on the floor and Lando couldn't possibly be hallucinating from dehydration.

Oscar placed his hand on Lando's back and felt a shiver run through his friend's body. "Lando, you're starting to worry me. Do you want to go to the medical bay?"

Lando quickly got up from the floor, shaking off Oscar's touch. "No need, Os. I'm fine." He forced a smile, but there was a lump in his throat as he tried to swallow down the fear and uncertainty. He didn't want to get his hopes up again, only to have them crushed once more.

"What do you think of the place?" Oscar's voice startles you from behind,.

A smile lights up your face as you turn around to see your friend in person for the first time in a long while. You eagerly embrace him with open arms, attempting to lift him off the ground like you used to when you were kids.

"Wow, okay, you're not as light as you used to be."

Oscar chuckles, and playfully returns the favor by lifting you up. "Nope, I'm not. Or maybe you're just not as strong anymore."

You tease, giving his shoulder a light slap. He winces and holds onto it, pretending it hurts.

"It's impressive." You answer his previous question. "So many people, so much noise, but I can see why you love it here." You take in the bustling atmosphere with a laugh.

The Aussie leans back against something and asks with a playful glint in his eye, "So, what's been going on in your world?"

You chuckle, immediately feeling at ease with him. "Just the usual post-grad life. Trying to figure it all out."

"Will you stick with auto sports?" He asks hopefully.

"I have an interview lined up to shadow a F2 journalist, so let's hope for the best." You make a gesture of crossed fingers. You thought that graduating with a degree in Journalism would give you direction in life, but almost a year later, you're still searching for your calling.

"It's already yours. I've never met anyone who could get honest answers from drivers like you do." He tried to calm you.

"I interviewed you once for a college project, Os. I don't think that counts." You chuckle.

"Come on, I was in f2 back then. That's definitely something to put on your resume."

"I'll keep that in mind." You nod.

It didn't feel like it had been so long since you two last saw each other in person.

As your gaze sweeps over the cluttered garage once more, something strange catches your eye, and you furrow your brow in confusion.

"Isn't Easter still a ways off?" Your eyes follow a trail of small, misshapen footprints leading around the room and you can't help but comment, "And whoever left those prints definitely didn't excel in their Arts & Crafts classes. They look nothing like bunny paws."

Oscar couldn't believe it. What was going on with his friends and footprints that day?

He squints and shakes his head. "I don't see anything," he says, trying to follow your gaze.

"Of course you don't. I've been telling you to get your eyes checked for years," you tease with a laugh. You walk over to him and point directly at the pawprint (that looks more like a footprint) on the ground that you can clearly see, even though it's slightly faded. Oscar looks at you with confusion.

"Are you and Lando in on this together?" He starts to suspect a prank.

"Lando? Your teammate?" You shake your head. "I've never even met him, Os." A mischievous grin spreads across your face. "But maybe I should."

Oscar's gaze shifted from the empty space in front of him. "Don't even go there, missy. Teammates are strictly off-limits."

You couldn't help but tease, "Why, does he have a soulmate?"

Oscar used to give you pitying looks whenever you mentioned not having a love thread, but it had been a while since then. He missed all of you - including your bad puns.

"I don't know. We've never discussed it," Oscar shuddered. He and Lando had grown closer over the past year, but the Brit never seemed to want to talk about that topic, so Oscar left it alone.

You continue to tease, "I still don't see why he's off-limits."

"Can you imagine how traumatizing it would be to see Lando making out with my best friend?"

"It wouldn't be any weirder than collecting bugs with my best friend and then suddenly having a random girl in front of me," your counterpart argues.

"Touché" It wouldn't be right for Oscar to dictate who you should pursue, especially since you had no control over randomly talking to his soulmate after swapping places. "It still would be fucking weird."

"You know, if two people saw those pawprints and you didn't, I think it's safe to say who's the one in the wrong here," You nudged him playfully. "Maybe you're just not looking close enough. Let me guide you."

Stepping closer to the mysterious prints, you crouched down and examined them closely. "They seem... fresh, don't they?"

Oscar joined you, squinting his eyes as he tried to make out any shape or form on the ground. "I swear, there's nothing there. Are you sure this isn't some elaborate prank?"

You shook your head, running your fingers over the indentations. "No, these are real."

Despite trying his best, Oscar couldn't make out what he was supposed to be looking at. "Alright, you got me. Congrats on your and Lando's little joke."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Your frustration grows as you wonder how he could have missed the obvious footprints right in front of him.

"He saw these so-called "footprints" too." He gestured with air quotes, convinced that his best friend and teammate were up to some strange prank together.

Before you could protest, someone called out your friend's name. "I have to go, it's my engineer," he said, getting up from the floor. He gave you a friendly smile that quickly turned into a knowing smirk. "And don't follow the footprints, Alice. They won't lead you to wonderland."

Wonderland or not, you would be stupid not to follow it.

As you follow the trail of footprints through the crowded garage, your curiosity builds with each step. You maneuver carefully around toolboxes and piles of spare parts, focusing on the prints as they lead you deeper into the maze-like space.

At last, you reach the end of the trail and come face to face with a closed door. Your heart races with excitement and anticipation as you stare at the sign above it: "Lando Norris' Driver's Room"

You furrow your brow in confusion. How could Norris' driver's room be connected to the strange footprints you've been tracking? Is this some kind of elaborate prank that Oscar roped Lando into as well?

Despite the nagging feeling that something was off, you stood your ground and refused to give into whatever it was that was trying to lure you in. You mentally prepared yourself to turn around and head back to Oscar's garage, where at least you felt familiar, and he couldn't pull pranks on you in front of his entire team.

And then, as if on cue, the door swings open, revealing Lando Norris standing on the other side. His presence fills the doorway, commanding attention with an effortless grace that leaves you breathless.

In that moment, you can't help but drink in the sight of him—the way the soft glow of the room illuminates his features, casting his angular jawline and chiseled cheekbones in sharp relief. His eyes, a mesmerizing shade of azure, hold a glint of mischief as they meet yours, and you find yourself drowning in their depths.

Lando is clad in his fireproofs, the sleek material hugging his lean frame in all the right places. His racesuit hangs by his waist, a vibrant burst of color against the backdrop of the room. There's a confidence in the way he carries himself, a hint of swagger that speaks of countless hours spent behind the wheel of a racing car.

But it's not just his physical appearance that captivates you—it's the strange electricity that seems to crackle in the air when your eyes meet.

Your heart skips a beat as you find yourself in a predicament, searching for a clever excuse. You definitely didn't want to appear as a stalker-fan who snuck in. "Um, I was just... uh..."

"Oscar?" Lando interrupts, a knowing glint in his eyes.

"Yes, Oscar!" You latch onto the name like a lifeline. "I'm a friend of his."

"He mentioned you," Lando nods, a friendly grin spreading across his face.

"Ah, so Oscar's been gossiping about me, huh?" You tease, a playful smirk curling your lips as you lock gazes with Lando. "I hope he said only nice things."

Lando chuckles softly, leaning casually against the doorframe. "Oh, absolutely. But he forgot to mention how gorgeous you are"

You feel a warm flush creeping up your cheeks at his compliment, and you playfully bat your eyelashes. "Oh, did he now? Well, I'll have to thank him for the rave reviews later."

An easy silence falls between you, charged with unspoken chemistry and the promise of potential. Lando breaks the quiet with a mischievous smirk, closing the gap between you.

"Care for a little tour while we wait for Oscar? I promise not to lead you astray... too much," he adds with a wink.

Despite the lingering adrenaline from the close call and the unexpected encounter with Lando, you find yourself nodding eagerly. Oscar had been too occupied to give you a proper tour, and you were itching to explore the place.

"Lead the way, but I'm holding you to that promise of not getting lost," you tease, motioning for him to lead. As he begins to walk, you fall into step beside him, the playful brush of your shoulders sending sparks flying.

"Do you have a habit of getting lost?" Lando asks with a playful glint in his eyes.

You laugh, shaking your head in mock dismay. "Define 'a habit'," you retort, a playful sparkle in your eyes. "When we were younger, Oscar and I used to roam around this massive mall near our homes. I lost count of how many times he had to page me over the speakers because I got sidetracked and wandered off."

"I'll have to keep a close eye on you, then," Lando quips. "Can't have Oscar's friend getting lost on my watch."

You chuckle at his teasing, reveling in the easy banter between you two. As he continues to show you around the McLaren paddock, pointing out various spots and sharing amusing anecdotes, you find yourself drawn to his effortless charm and infectious energy.

"You know, I never expected today to turn out like this," you admit, stealing a sideways glance at Lando. "But I'm glad it did. Especially if it means getting a personal tour from McLaren's charming star driver."

Lando beams at your words, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Consider yourself lucky, then. Not everyone gets the VIP treatment around here." He pauses for a moment before adding with a playful grin, "Although, I must confess, it's rather challenging to focus on giving a proper tour with you flashing that smile."

Your heart flutters at his words, but you play it cool with a playful roll of your eyes. "You need to work on your flirting skills, dude."

"But do they work?" Lando counters with a cheeky smile.

"Maybe. Keep trying, and who knows where it might lead."

"Ah, so you're admitting my charm has potential?" Lando shoots back, a playful glint in his eyes.

"I didn't say that," you reply with a smirk..

"Ouch, that hurts," Lando feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. "Here I am, giving you the grand tour, and you won't even give me credit for my rizz."

"Okay, okay, maybe just a little credit," you concede with a laugh, nudging him lightly with your elbow. "But don't let it get to your head."

Lando grins. "Don't worry, I'll try to contain my ego."

As the tour comes to an end, you and Lando bid your goodbyes, thanking each other for the enjoyable time spent together. It's time for qualifying, and Lando is escorted towards his car by a member of his team. Just before he gets in, he looks back towards you with a faint smile. In that moment, his gaze locks with yours, and he freezes as a realization dawns upon him. The footsteps he had noticed earlier, weaving through the McLaren paddock, had a familiar pattern. They were from you.

He looks back to the path he took with you, and the marks on the floor as clear as day. They appear in front of his driver's room, in the small cafeteria where he took you to get the best coffee from the paddock (his words), and they follow you as you make your way to Oscar's side of the garage.

Lando's lips part slightly, as if he couldn't get enough air.

Before Lando could take a step towards you, his engineer's firm grip on his arm pulls him back. "Where are you going? Quali is about to start," his engineer reminds him, snapping him out of the mesmerizing realization.

Lando looks torn, torn between the exhilaration of discovering a potential connection he never noticed before and the responsibility of his racing career. He gives you one last longing look before reluctantly turning away, his mind buzzing with newfound thoughts and possibilities.

As he slides into the driver's seat and revs up the engine, he can't shake off the image of your smile, the sound of your laughter, and now, the footprints you left behind that seemed to lead straight to him. The engine roars to life, drowning out his racing thoughts as he steels himself for the high-stakes qualifying round ahead.

There were various theories floating around regarding why Lando secured the pole position. Some attributed it to an engine change, while others praised McLaren's performance on the specific circuit. But deep down, Lando knew that his main motivation was to finish everything quickly so he could talk to you.

He heard his engineer's voice in his ear through the radio, but he wasn't really paying attention. He knew he had interviews to do, photos to take, and a tire to sign, but as he stepped out of the car, his mind was consumed with thoughts of the girl he never knew existed.

After the whirlwind of interviews subsides and Lando returns to the bustling garage, his mind remains fixated on one thought: finding you. He navigates through the maze of mechanics and engineers, his determination unwavering.

Spotting Oscar amidst the commotion, Lando strides over, his expression a mix of eagerness and urgency. "Hey, Oscar," he calls out, drawing his friend's attention.

Oscar looks up from his conversation with a mechanic, a puzzled expression crossing his face at the intensity in Lando's gaze. "Hey, Lando. What's up?" he asks, curious yet cautious.

"I need to talk to your friend," Lando replies, his tone serious.

Oscar's confusion deepens, and a hint of protectiveness flickers in his eyes. "My friend? Why do you need to speak to her?" he inquires, his tone guarded.

Lando hesitates for a moment, searching for the right words. "I... I just need to ask her something," he says evasively, unwilling to divulge the true reason behind his urgency.

Oscar studies Lando intently, sensing there's more to the story than meets the eye. "Is everything okay?" he probes, his concern evident.

Lando shifts uncomfortably under Oscar's scrutiny, torn between his desire to find you and his reluctance to reveal too much. "Yeah, everything's fine," he assures, attempting to brush off Oscar's concern.

But Oscar isn't convinced, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. "Look, if you're going to involve my friend in something, I need to know what's going on," he insists firmly.

Lando sighs, realizing he can't keep dodging the question. "It's just... I met her earlier, and I... I need to talk to her," he admits, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

Oscar's expression softens as he recognizes the sincerity in Lando's words. He may be protective, but he also trusts his instincts when it comes to his friends. "Okay," he relents, nodding in understanding. "She's in my driver's room."

Before Lando can make his way there, Oscar grabs his arm, a serious expression etched on his face. "Look, I know we don't talk about this, but…" He hesitates momentarily. "I don't know if you have a soulmate, but she doesn't. And I don't want you giving her false hope, only to disappear the moment someone mentions what's on your arm, or whatever."

Lando offers a reassuring smile. "You're wrong."

"Listen, I don't care if your mark is on your arm or your ass, my point was-"

"It's not about that. It's about her not having a soulmate," Lando interjects.

Oscar's expression turns grave. "What do you mean?"

"Footsteps," Lando responds simply.

Oscar's frustration bubbles to the surface. "What's going on with both of you? First, you mention footsteps, then her." He glances at his teammate, who meets his gaze with a serene smile. In Lando's eyes, there's a glimmer of hope and relief that Oscar can't quite comprehend. Initially, he considers escorting both of his friends to the medical bay, puzzled by their strange behavior regarding footsteps that only they seem to perceive—

Footsteps that only they can see.

A sudden realization dawns upon Oscar, his eyes widening. "You two are soulmates."

"Hopefully," Lando murmurs. "I—I never thought I had one. No marks, no dreams, nothing. But this morning, I saw footsteps. And then we met, and I showed her around. We were side by side, so I didn't pay much attention. But before Qualifying, I noticed her walking toward your side of the garage, and there were footsteps leading there."

As the realization settles between them, Oscar reluctantly releases Lando's arm, allowing him to continue on his way. However, just as Lando begins to move away, Oscar calls out to him, his tone a mix of seriousness and jest.

"Lando, wait," Oscar says, his voice tinged with playful threat. "Soulmate or not, if you ever hurt my best friend, I'll make sure to crash into you in every single race."

Lando stops in his tracks, turning back to face Oscar with a wry smile. "Fair warning," he replies, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "But I can assure you, if I ever did hurt her, I'd deserve every crash."

The Brit's heart races as he stands before the door, realizing he doesn't need to ask Oscar about the girl when the footsteps guide him straight to her. He wonders if he'd ever noticed those phantom imprints before, dismissing them as mere smudges or dirt. And in a fleeting moment of clarity, he wonders if those same invisible marks had led you to his door earlier, tracing a path he hadn't noticed until now.

As Lando hesitates outside the door, uncertainty gripping his thoughts, he contemplates his next move. Should he pace back and forth until you notice the traces on the floor? Or perhaps he should boldly declare their connection as soulmates upon entering? Before he can settle on a plan, the door swings open.

"Wow!" You exclaim, your initial fright giving way to laughter. "Okay, I probably deserved that. Second time's the charm, right?"

"Uhm," Lando's throat constricts, his words stumbling over each other. In his mind, this conversation had seemed much simpler. "Look, I—I need to ask you something. Do you… have a soulmate?"

Your gaze hardens, but it's not anger that flickers in your eyes, only a hint of sorrow. "We just met today," you confess, your tone tinged with vulnerability. Lando realizes it might be an invasive question; after all, some people prefer to keep such matters private. "Is it that obvious?"

"Yes. I mean, no. I mean—" Lando fumbles, his nerves getting the best of him.

"It's alright, I understand," you say, crossing your arms with a sad smile. "You do?"

"I do," Lando confirms, gesturing subtly to the scattered footsteps that crisscross the room.

"Cool," you respond, your expression disoriented.

"No, wait, that's not what I meant." Lando's frustration mounts as he struggles to articulate his thoughts. Was this what it felt like to be stupid in love?

"It's okay, Lando, really," you reassure him gently. "I know some people like to have... fun before finding their soulmate. I won't judge you for that." Yet beneath your understanding tone, a pang of sadness lingers, the thought of forever being a mere diversion rather than a final destination.

"Listen," Lando interjects, laying his hands gently atop yours, a jolt of electricity coursing between them once more. "Earlier today, you saw those footsteps, didn't you?"

"Actually, yes," you reply, confusion clouding your features. Oscar had vehemently denied their existence, leaving you to question your own perception.

"Me too. I saw footsteps this morning. Then I noticed footsteps leading towards Oscar's garage," Lando reveals, his voice soft with emotion. He silently pleads for you not to notice the trembling in his hands. "And now, I see footsteps again. Emerging from the door and heading toward the couch. A circle of them, right in front of the television."

As Lando confides in you, his vulnerability palpable, you begin to piece it together. Your eyes widen in realization as you look around. Although you can't see the invisible footsteps he's describing, you can distinctly perceive a path, stretching from the door to where Lando stands before you.

"Every step leads me to you," he murmurs, his gaze locked on yours with unwavering intensity.

A tender smile graces your lips as you absorb Lando's words, a rush of warmth flooding your chest. "I never thought I had a soulmate," you confess softly, your voice tinged with wonder.

Lando's own smile mirrors yours, a mixture of affection and amusement dancing in his eyes. "Look at that, one thing that we already have in common," he replies, his tone gentle yet playful.

You share a moment of quiet understanding, the air thick with unspoken emotions swirling between you. It's a realization that defies logic yet feels undeniably right, as if the universe itself had conspired to bring you together. Well, it did, didn't it? Maybe you should apologize for all the times your cursed at it.

"And here we are," you say, a hint of awe coloring your words.

"Here we are," Lando echoes, his gaze never leaving yours.

A mischievous glint twinkles in your eyes as you playfully tease, "You know, when I suggested you keep trying to flirt with me, this wasn't exactly the outcome I had in mind."

Lando chuckles, his grin widening. "Well, lucky for me, there's no one I'd rather up my game with than you."

You laugh, feeling the tension ease between you as the playful banter continues. "Smooth talker," you tease, giving him a playful nudge.

"Just stating the truth," Lando replies, his tone lighthearted yet sincere. "Besides, you will have to deal with it for the rest of your life."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the playful façade giving way to a deeper connection between you. "I suppose you have a point," you concede with a smile, feeling yourself drawn even closer to him.

Lando's eyes light up with mischief as an idea sparks in his mind. "You know," he begins, a playful grin tugging at his lips, "I've spent my entire life thinking you didn't exist. I have a lot of making up to do."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at his bold statement, but a smile tugs at the corners of your lips, intrigued by his playful demeanor. "Oh really?" you reply, a teasing glint in your eyes. "And just how do you plan on making it up to me?"

Lando's grin widens as he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Well, I was thinking we could start here. I can't really go out, but my hotel has an amazing restaraunt" he suggests, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "After that... Have you ever been to Monaco? Or Italy? Maybe after that, we could..."

You can't help but laugh at his enthusiasm, charmed by his playful spirit. "I say you're full of surprises, Lando Norris," you tease, interrupting him, a playful sparkle dancing in your eyes. "But I like the way you think."

A bashful smile graces Lando's lips as he chuckles softly. "Great," he replies, his tone now tinged with a hint of shyness. "I've got a meeting to attend, but after that, how about we meet back here?"

"You'll know exactly where to find me."

As warmth floods through Lando's heart, a tender smile graces his lips. In that fleeting moment of realization, it dawns on him—he'll never doubt your existence again. Not when there's a trail of footsteps leading him straight back to you, a path he'll eagerly follow time and time again.

Lando Norris is a romantic at heart. The universe, in all its wisdom, understood that he deserved nothing less than the greatest of loves.

fun fact i actually hate this

taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed. crossed names means i couldn't tag you) :: @saturnssunflower @sopheeg @minkyungseokie @alexander-hamilhoe @butterfly-lover @cool-ultra-nerd @tomriddleswhorecruxes @everbizzare @chonkybonky @styl1shl1v

[lustlovehart]

Reversed

Pairings: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus, Rollo x Reader

Reverse Monster!Twst where instead of you being the hunter who hunts down those vermin, it’s them hunting you down, the most notorious beast famed for taking down whole citities with just a look (though, this is just rumors as no evidence with solid proof has proven this a fact).

They’re so sure they can do it, maybe with a great effort, but they have no doubt they’ll at least give you a challenge.

But then, they finally meet you and their former view completely shifts.

Riddle, is at an impasse. He’s conflicted with himself, on one hand he’s appraised as the sternest Monster Hunter there is, even following rules that make his job harder than need be. But, when he looks at you, his want for law following skews itself. Even as he brings his blade down to behead you, a split second hesitation gives way for you to escape his clutches.

When he finally clears his mind, he strives to hunt you down, you’ll just repay all the grievances you caused through punishment—! Who’s he kidding, he can’t lie…

He’s doing this not because the rules say so, but because he wants to. Whether through blood or air, he will see you again.

Leona… Thinks it’s inconvenient. He sets out on the mission with the “just another annoyance” mindset, ready to swiftly claw you down a step so he can go back to napping around the city. When the time comes, he’s a bit annoyed he can’t do it. He’s not sure what it is, maybe the way you look at him when you’re on the ground, whether pitiful or snarling. This was meant to be a simple job, kill and then swiftly take his leave, now he’s considering whether he should throw you over his shoulder or tie you up and drag you home.

The decision is finally made when you’re gone from his hold. He groans at himself for something so amateur, but realizes, he hasn’t taken a mission seriously for a while. Maybe it’s finally time for him to catch a worthy meal.

Crowley won’t know though, this prey, is for him and him only.

Azul views it as a simple means to gain popularity. Killing the most wanted beast available would surely boost him up the chart, he could even replace Crowley as NRF’s head. The moment he can finally do what he has been waiting years to do… he'd very much rather bunch you up in his arms and start an entirely different business branch.

When you’re down, the way you sneer at him and tell about his pathetically cowardice plan somehow reminds him of himself. He’s reminded of how weak he started before growing in power.

When you back away from his reach, only further growling at the human before you, he bunches your clawed hands in his placing a chaste kiss on your thick skin. He already knew what would happen as the moment he looked back up, the beast he gave such a vulnerable act to, was gone.

He tuts at himself, but quickly re-plans, he’ll just have to find a more efficient way of holding you down.

Kalim, is happy! He’s a soft hunter, he essentially hunts them down by giving them a stern talking about the goodness of the world, even giving them a good start in life! They get away believing they’ve achieved freedom only to be murdered in cold blood by Jamil, who was stalling in the formers shadow.

When they finally meet you, this dynamic changes. Kalims practically overcome by joy at the sight of you, caging your hand in his as he excitedly rants to you about the future you’ll have with him! … With him? It seems… Kalim doesn’t believe in free beginnings in your case, when he accidentally releases you back into the world, he’s determined, for the first time, to truly hunt down a monster and trap them.

Little does he know, the real snake, is ready to sink his fangs into you, not willing to share a single piece of his reward

Vil unfortunately believes, you’re the prettiest thing he's ever laid eyes on. Like everyone else, he went into the assignment with the belief he’ll be taking down an insidious ugly monster. It’s dark when he finally brings his weapon down on you, only narrowly missing when the light perfectly hits your face and accentuates your features to him.

Why are you beautiful?

He stops dead in his tracks, only further freezing up when you slowly resume your full height, you face inching closer to his as your eyes examine him, the moment he blinks is when you’re gone. Perhaps he should’ve let his eyes run dry if it meant you stayed here longer.

When he lays in bed, it feels like every time he closes his eyes you’re in the shadows, watching him. He doesn’t feel fear at this thought, if anything, he jumps up ready to take you away.

Ever since, he can’t seem to stop thinking about the beast so fair, he must know… why it is he finds you so beautiful.

Perhaps, he’ll just need to study such a beauty up close and personal.

Idia wants to hole himself away, but at the same time needs to see every part of you. He’s practically hidden behind the sword he has pointed at you, the iron trembling as you watch him emerge from his sleeve. He’s been obsessed with this moment for so long, to finally become the hero of the world after slaying the beast that torments innocent citizens!

But… is he sure he even wants to do that anymore..? He can feel the plotline change when he considers drifting apart from the cliche.

What if he like… falls in love with the evil monster instead..? Why’s he lying that’s exactly what’s happening…! After fixating on such a key moment, it’s like all his attention was on you as a living being, rather than the mission anymore…!

He has numerous pins and photos of you attached to his wall, each displaying your victims, towns you’ve raided, and even just photos of you standing there.

This might be the only thing he won’t shy away from in fear. Like the rest of them, Idia is just as determined to achieve the goal of catching you, maybe even more so with how much he needs to prove to people.

Malleus, finds you a curiosity. To think, despite his nature, you’ve caught the attention of one of the most renowned hunters. Even when his bare hands pin you to the ground below him, his body being used as a weight to trap you between him and the grass, he can’t help but wish to lean even closer.

He essentially, feels the urge to consume every piece of knowledge there is to know about you, he wants to know, every piece of data books have failed to recollect on you.

He has never felt such a strong desire like this, he’s smart in all fields, even powerful enough to do jobs weaponless, yet you’re the only thing he seems to consistently want to swallow.

When your form fades away, his hands grip onto the space you once occupied, desperately trying to cling to the vespers of you. He must better himself, on his need for you.

Rollo thinks you’re horrifically heinous. How… How dare you impede his mind with your impure presence. Out of everyone, even Riddle, his strive to put a stake through your heart is heavier than ever, why must such prudences exist in this land? If they hadn’t, living would be peacful.

Which is the exist opposite of his life right now. At every turn of a city corner has gone to such a delusion he imagines random people in the street to be you. His current turmoil is between existential longing and pure hatred.

You... You of the most immoral species possible, why is it you his heart has decided to beat faster and faster with every passing moment? You must’ve cursed him, yes that’s it... He must purify the filth you’ve instilled in him.

By taking you as the cure.

A/n: Rollo Flamme, from doting househusband coworker who toes the line of regular best friend and boyfriend, to loathing mortal enemy who hunts you down to pay for the fact you’re in his mind 24/7 because he simply can’t accept that he’s fallen deep in love with the pretty monster in the shadows.

May I offer up, Monster Hunter meeting with all of the factions telling their reports of their mission, collectively saying their lies in unison, that they killed you. Now they’re all giving each other the stink eye cuz “no tf you didn’t???”, meanwhile you’re in their weapons closet trying desperately to not get caught with the lowrank hunter you were feeding on. You could easily take five of them down, but twenty three highly trained hunters? You’d practically be dead—

Your hopes go unanswered as shadows loom of you with the most horrifying expressions on their face. (Little do you know it’s not because of you but because they’re a little jealous some random got to have you bite them).

Thank you for my presentation that had randomly struck me doing a road trip, on the bright side, Heartslaybul is half way finished??? Kinda??

[dorabellingham]

La Liga

warning: none

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when you're celebrating the la liga trophy, but he's really drunk and keeps asking you to marry him

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was a party night at the stadium, and Real Madrid had just won the La Liga championship. The team, the fans, everyone was cheering, but no one seemed happier and more relaxed than Jude. He was completely overcome with euphoria, hugging everyone who passed by —players, journalists, staff, it didn't matter who it was, he just wanted to share his happiness.

With a bottle of whisky in one hand and the La Liga trophy in the other, Jude danced and sang as if the world was watching (and it was). His smile was so wide it seemed permanent, and his laugh was contagious. When the background music changed to a lively funk, he wasted no time in starting to dance, with exaggerated steps and movements with the clumsy and fun touch of someone who was clearly a few glasses too many. In the midst of all this joy, he suddenly spotted you, who were there backstage, waiting for the right moment to congratulate him. Jude's eyes shone even brighter when he saw you, and he practically dropped the trophy, walking towards you with a passionate smile.

—BABE!

He shouted from the other side of the field, running towards you and, in the middle of the path, almost tripping over his own legs.

Arriving at your side, he pulled you into a tight hug, the strong smell of whisky in the air. Without letting go of you, he began to speak, the words coming out in a slurred and exaggerated way.

—Y/n, you are... you are the most incredible woman in the world! —He declared, his hands cupping your face adoringly. —Marry me? Please! I love you, I'm crazy about you!

You laughed, trying to keep your composure in front of your clearly drunk husband and the cameras that recorded every second of that moment.

—Jude, we're already married!

You reminded him, trying unsuccessfully to hide your amused smile.

But that didn't seem to make a difference to him. Jude continued with the scene, his eyes shining and his tone of voice rising even higher.

—No, no, babe! I want to marry you again! I need to hear you say ‘yes’!

He pulled one of your hands and, on his knees, began to make a dramatic marriage proposal right there, in the middle of the field, while the reporters around filmed and laughed.

—Y/n, my love! Marry me again, will you? Please?

He begged, reaching out to you, as if it were the first time.

You tried to contain your laughter, shaking your head in denial.

—Honey, no. Come on, get up. We’re already married!

You looked around, noticing that the reporters were absolutely amused by the situation, and gently patted his hand, trying to get him to stand up.

It was then that, to everyone’s shock and surprise, Bellingham, with the expression of a devastated man, began to cry. Yes, cry! He put one hand to his face, covering his eyes, and grabbed the microphone from a reporter standing next to him, his voice cracking.

—I WAS REJECTED! —He announced dramatically, as if he were on stage. —She doesn’t want to marry me! Everyone saw it… she doesn’t love me anymore! —He looked at the microphone and repeated it, so there would be no doubt. —Are you seeing this? My wife doesn’t want to marry me again!

The reporters tried to hide their laughter, some barely able to keep the cameras focused. You, in turn, had your hands on your face, laughing and in disbelief at the show your drunk husband was putting on. You bent down to him, trying to whisper:

—Jude, honey, everyone’s watching! Get up, go…

He ignored you completely, turning to the camera with a martyr’s expression.

—She doesn’t love me, guys. Here I am, winning La Liga, and my wife… rejects me.

He sighed theatrically as the camera focused on his face.

The crowd in the stands, who were already laughing and applauding the scene, began to scream, encouraging Jude. And he, of course, loved the encouragement, raising his fist in the air, as if he were ready to fight for that love right there.

You, still laughing, pulled him by the arm, finally managing to lift him up.

—Come on, you dramatic! Let's go home.

But he seemed unable to let the moment pass. Hugging you tightly, he lifted you in the air, spinning you around as he continued to speak towards the microphone he was still holding.

—I love this woman! She is everything to me. My wife... and the most beautiful of all!

The crowd applauded, and Jude, finally satisfied with the show he had put on, gave you a loud kiss on the cheek and finally handed the microphone back to the reporter, laughing at his own situation.

As they left the field, with his arms around her and his eyes shining, Jude whispered:

—But you’ll marry me again one day, right?

You rolled your eyes, laughing.

—We’re already married, love. Come on, let’s go home before you even ask the trophy to marry you.

[cherie-doll]

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: When They Propose

=͟͟͞♡ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

How else could he show that you were more to him than a just another episode in life? whatever it is he might've been through, maybe you didn't shake him, maybe you didn't turn his world upside down, causing a storm of feelings brewing violently and rapidly in his heart

But you've been a wonderful experience, more heartfelt than any other, striking the chords that resonated the warmth and comfort he needed at his point in life, the best things do come later

You were something to be savored, contemplated, admired slowly and with a timely manner, a study he'd want to devote himself to for the rest of his life, so gingerly he asked if you'd accept

Ghost

Very similar to when he had to admit he had taking a liking to you; a quiet conversation at sunrise, or sundown, or midnight or-

He wanted to spent the rest of his life receiving and returning that serenity you had given him from the turbulence of life, from all those times he'd feel strangely secure and safe in your presence, unable to spend longer periods of time away from you

Always seeking you in a room full of people, what comfort did you bring to him, he wanted to do the same to reciprocate that time and energy, the feeling and sentiment you'd given him and what better way than to make a promise to you that he'd spend his life doing so?

Soap

Wants to find you in whatever world, reality, or universe there is, for you to be his sun or moon, his stars, his heaven or torment, his life or death, for you to be the cause of pain in his heart at the mere thought of you

Would drop the question at the most inconvenient time because "no time will be better" to pour his heart out, the words that come spilling from his mouth without warning

He wants to take care of you like no one else will, to cherish you like no other, to weave himself into you over the years and never leave your side; this is his promise

Gaz

The soft emotion in his eyes; showing the genuine feelings he has for you, eyes not drifting away from yours not even for a second as he holds your hand, seeking that connection physically while saying it through his words

As he professed his love for you and your heart felt as if it was being lifted, falling in love all over again

How did he go so long without spilling his entire being out to you? You've caused so much build-up of emotion he's practically rewriting the definition of love with his words, his only regret in all of this is not telling you sooner

Roach

Beyond nervous

Breathes in and out slowly, not wanting his voice to come out weak

He knows what he feels for you isn't fleeting, it's real, it's pure and he wants to communicate it exactly

He's brought you a collection of things that remind him of you, a carefully folded note with your phone number written on it, a thread that came off a sweater you wore often and that he loved on you, a bead that fell off of your jewelry, insignificant seeming things that showed that every small actions of yours made up his world

And hopefully you'd accept him in yours

Alejandro

Rehearsed over and over again, how he would string his sentences together with precision

Ended up ditching the entire planned out dialogue and just saying what he felt at the moment which flowed more naturally and had a deeper effect

Oh, and how impassioned were his words, such intensity in them that you felt as if your legs would give out from underneath you

Holding his hands as you listened, and overcome with joy as you said yes and collapsed into his arms

Rudy

There was simply no one like you, and he wanted to show you now more than ever

He knew you didn't need the extravagant or showy proposal to accept, maybe something like a quiet scenery, tranquil yet impressionable

Alone with you, with glances sent your way, more meaning in his eyes with every look, soft touches that made you feel warm all over

It all made him want to ask you to spend eternity with him, he's got nothing to lose but that future he's envisioned with no one but you

He can't wait, can't you say it back?

Phillip Graves

Thought a lot about how he wanted to propose to you; where, when, what ring, what to wear, what to say, literally everything down to the smallest details, you're just everything and more to him, how could he not think of you in everything?

He's never had a problem with confidence till now, not that he doubted your love for him, but he couldn't help but keep checking his reflection in the mirror or any transparent surface for that matter

Kept glancing at his watch as he anxiously looked for you, the sentiment already building in his heart, piling in his throat, impatient to know whether you'd stay in the palm of his hand for life or not

Keegan

The strange high and lows he's experienced with you, the constant lovers' quarrels and bickering laced with playful banter and teasing had grazed his heart, leaving behind a scorching flame he'd be willing to devote the rest of his life to keeping alive

Maybe the proposal, which is more of a confession, comes out rushed and under heavy rain, but it's palpable, the ice-cold water soaking him to the bone, leaving no thought or feeling unsaid

Oh, end his agony and accept already :(( or else his soul may forever be condemned to torment

König

Begging with his eyes for you to be his, forever, that look that lasts a lot longer, it lingers on you, seeking for an answer which will either silence him forever or lead the fellow through what he believes is the gateway to heaven

Maybe he asks on a quiet evening, you're alone together, he's resting his head upon you, only a pillow separating him from you, and he realizes that maybe this is the peace his mind has secretly been wanting all along

And it's not just anyone who grants him such valuable thing, he wants to spend every waking moment, from when he's awake and feeling to when he's asleep but in his subconscious knowing he's in your embrace and you in his

Horangi

Possibly he'd been spooning you, gently holding you in his arms, practicing being tender and soft when it occurred to him he wants to do this always

It's not just anyone that sets your soul on fire when you touch, for who else could make him feel so lively? his heart beating for you, spinning out of control

He so desperately hopes you accept, despite his impulses, his imperfections and build a future with you, even if it means bickering everyday, to do laundry and go grocery shopping with you every weekend, anything but stay in this middle and never become anything

Nikto

To be loved is to be understood, to be known, to say "I love you" to confess such an intimate and vulnerable thing can be over in mere seconds but take a lifetime to understand

You had shown him love in different forms, all those serene moments, you never pressuring him but instead igniting a flame; the whispering of love which had staggered him

He wouldn't want to wake up not being able to feel your presence next to him, your weight making the bed feel warmer, your hand which he reaches for just to make sure you're still there, the hugs you give him when he least expects it and he secretly loves although he never admits it

Yeah, you'd be unforgettable and a missing piece in his life, a custom he'd never be able to just shrug off

[neuvistar]

❝ MY STAR, MY DAUGHTER. ❞ signed: boothill . wc. 791

— featuring ┊boothill x fem!reader

— warnings / content warnings ┊sfw (lil bit of angst if u squint) . major spoilers abt boothill’s story. girldad boothill girldad boothill!!, established relationships (marriage), mentions of pregnancy, just pure fluffiness which hurts my heart | special tags . @rinneverse @mewnbuns

— a/n ┊this is VERRRRYYYY short n somehow took quite a bit bc readers block was eating my ass but i like how this turned out :3 if i see one more tt abt boothill’s silly (not so silly) backstory i will sob uncontrollably :,)

this was a blessing from the aeons themselves.

you were pregnant, with a daughter.. his kid, his flesh and blood. boothill closed his eyes, fingers gently stroking your belly in slow, comforting circles. you could feel his chest heaving softly, his breaths growing deeper and more laboured, signaling his fading consciousness. your husband’s arm loosened, draping over your belly and chest. “.. baby, thank you for this gift. son of a nice lady, yer fudgin’ strong for carryin’ our baby girl inside of ya.”

boothill was beyond excited, your husband couldn’t believe it.. after all these years, he couldn't shake the feeling of gratitude; he was creating a family, a future together with you, a future he could’ve had with his first daughter he had lost and grieved for years. in his eyes, this was his blessing, his second shot at being a father. your heart ached for your husband. you knew about his past and experiences, he told you many times already.. a story you can’t help hold dear to your heart. for boothill, the little baby girl he lost on that fateful day.. was the day he lost everything. the pain of her absence was immense and left a void that no amount of time could heal, sending him in a spiral of grief that engulfed him wholly.

but yet.. when he heard the news of your pregnancy a few months ago, boothill felt that little spark of light erupt once more with pure joy.. the glow he lost many years ago, returned with a new sense of hope, a new sense of hope for the future he’s always wanted. the joy and excitement he felt was a welcome reprieve from the grief that had consumed his soul for so long, overcoming his deepest regrets. he couldn’t wait for this little rascal to grow, experience the beauty of life herself, explore the world around her with curiosity and wonder.. teaching her about all the things he knew. maybe even tell her about the older sister she could’ve had. boothill wanted to see her smile, dress her up in pretty little princess dresses, help her walk her first steps, he wanted to experience and see it all. all he wanted was to see his daughter grow in-front of his eyes, something he had failed to see with his first.

to boothill, his flesh and blood forming inside of you was his second chance at fatherhood. he promised himself he’d pour all his love and energy into raising the baby with you, seeking a renewed sense of purpose and meaning of a father’s love. “i can’t wait for our little girl to grow up, baby.. m’ gonna be the best daddy ever, i’ll tell ya that.”

“you already are, hun. you already are.”

“heh.. rely on me from now on, ‘kay? ‘gonna protect you and her.” your husband leaned in, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before moving to brush his lips against yours, tenderly.. his thumb forming gentle circles on your belly. “always darlin, always.” boothill smiled crookedly, a tear glistening in the corner of his eye. the cyborg leaned in, his forehead still touching yours as spoke softly.. his words destined for the bundle of joy growing within you. "little one," boothill whispered, his voice filled with love. " mommy and i have been talking. both so fudgin’ excited to meet ya. princess, we’ve been workin’ hard to make sure that when ya join us, you'll have everythin’ ya need. ‘going to shower you with love ‘n affection.. promise to be there for ya, to teach ya and guide ya. mama and daddy’re a team, ‘n we'll be the best parents we can be, just for you,”

your husband paused for a moment, allowing the love in his words to resonate before continuing. ".. ‘can't wait t’hear your first cry, ‘feel ya in my arms, kiss your forehead. mama and i love ya more than anythin’ else in this world. so.. for now, jus’ keep growin’ healthy and strong, okay?"

boothill reached over, taking your hand in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze as his thumb brushed over your knuckles. your husband gazed back up at you, offering you a small smile as he spoke to the little girl, puckering his lips to leave a gentle peck to your belly. “heh.. jus’ so ya know, s’ your daddy, babygirl. can’t wait t’squeeze those chubby cheeks, roll you up in a marshmallow usin’ daddy’s good-old red scarf.. i can’t wait t’love ya. love ya as much as the universe. y’know why, darlin’?” he paused, nuzzling his nose against the warmth of your belly, “because you’re my star, sweetie. the star that lit up mommy and daddy’s life,”

“my star, my daughter.”

[zablife]

Earth Angel

Benny Cross x gf reader

Summary: After running from the one person who's ever truly loved him, Benny returns to see if you'll take him back, but there's a surprise waiting.

Warnings: language, pregnancy, angst but ends with fluff

A/N: A short imagine I couldn't stop thinking about. If you like it, pls let me know in all the usual ways. Comments are love 💕

No spoilers here!

Benny Cross Masterlist

Benny loved you. It had only ever been you. He knew that now that he was returning home as fast as his bike could carry him. The past six months he’d spent running from it were a mistake he deeply regretted and he only hoped you would forgive him.

If he was honest with himself, the unconditional love you’d shown scared him and he knew he’d eventually fuck it up, the way he always did. So he packed his shit and left in the night without explanation.

Afterward, you’d spent many hours crying for your lost love so when Johnny met him on the road, he relayed your sadness. The shame of it burned deep to Benny's core. It was only made worse by Johnny’s words of your continued devotion. “She still loves ya, kid…Always will.”

The chance meeting reminded him of your goodness, the nickname for you still on the tip of his tongue. Earth angel he'd always called you, a woman too good for this world. You deserved better than him, but if his presence made you happy, he would vow to try again.

That's how he found himself on the long stretch of highway toward home, eager to lay eyes on your beautiful face once more and see for himself if Johnny was right. Would you take him back? he wondered.

When his tired body pushed off his bike and out toward the back yard where you hung the laundry, he could hardly believe the sight that greeted him.

There you stood in the golden afternoon sunlight, hair piled atop your head and sundress flowing in the breeze. He called your name and you turned to face him, eyes wide with surprise.

His breath hitched as he caught sight of your swollen stomach, suddenly realizing all he’d missed in his long absence from home. Rushing to greet you, he swept you off your feet, a wide grin spreading across his face as you opened your arms to accept him.

“Careful, Benny!” you cried as he spun you in a circle, overcome with joy.

He placed you on the ground gently as a chuckle erupted from deep within his chest, a look of complete awe sparkling in his eyes.

Then as the adrenaline subsided, he pulled you close enough to nuzzle your neck, inhaling the floral notes of your perfume and the crisp clean cotton from the wash. One hand resting over your bump, he suddenly grew quiet, voice hushed as he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me, angel?”

You stroked the blonde curls at the nape of his neck as you shook your head sadly, “Didn’t have the chance.”

Benny raised his head to meet your gaze, tears in his eyes as thought of you scared and alone, “I would’ve never left you like this.” He let out a shaky breath as he added, “There isn’t a day I didn’t think about you, you know.”

With those words, you melted into his arms, head resting against his shoulder as you admitted, “I missed you too, baby. I’m glad you’re home.”

Hearing the sweet tone of your voice relaxed any lingering tension, his arms softening their grip. His large hand reached to cup your cheek, Benny’s blue eyes glistening as he begged for your forgiveness. “I mean it, I’m so sorry, angel.”

“You’re here now,” you told him, inhaling a deep breath which he emulated with steady resolve.

“And I’ll never leave you again,” he murmured, leaning in to seal his promise with a kiss.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 26] Change of Plans

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

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“What do you mean your parents are here?” Worry consumes Satoru as soon as he hears about the announcement. His eyes go directly to Ren, who looks around confused. Why is Sayo’s parents showing up a big deal? Ren sees his parents everyday and it’s not a big deal. 

“I don’t know why they’re here. One of the maids just came into my room with the announcement and I– I don’t know.” She’s running her hands through her hair, taking deep breaths to keep her cool but it’s hard. She’s freaking out and Satoru can’t blame her.

“It’s okay, Sayo. Deep breaths.” Satoru tries to get her to calm down while he freaks out himself. It’s Ren’s birthday, he doesn’t want the night to be ruined because Sayo’s parents decided it’d be a great day to stop by. “Ren, come here.”

“I thought you were going to open mommy’s gift?” Ren asks, but he won’t question it further. Satoru had a change of heart, that’s a good enough answer for Ren. He walks back to his father, and Satoru’s hand goes to the top of his head. 

“What are we going to do– I mean you have your son here, this birthday party clearly isn’t for you. What are we going to say?” Sayo rambles, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before she has to go downstairs to greet them. “What do we even say?”

“I don’t know. I…” Satoru is unsure of what to say next. What should he do? He looks down at Ren and takes a moment to really think about his options. He can’t hide Ren forever, and he isn’t going to.

Satoru isn’t proud of a lot of things in his life because quite frankly he hasn’t made the best decisions, and Ren is everything to him. His pride and joy. He doesn’t want to keep hiding him, Satoru is done with all of this.

“I think it’s time to come clean.” Satoru says, words that are dreaded by her. But she somewhat understands. Satoru just has a beautiful family that is waiting for him– Or whatever you have going on, either way, it’s time to put an end to this. She bites down her lip before nodding in agreement.

“You’re right.” She agrees as a sigh escapes her lips. She wanted this to go on a little longer… No, she wanted this to keep going forever since she can’t deal with the truth. But Satoru isn’t her little puppet, and he has his own feelings to cherish and protect.

Her eyes are filling up with tears, and she tries to turn quickly to leave. She doesn’t want Satoru to back down or to think she wants him to; she’s simply overcome with emotion because this is it, after tonight, she won’t have a family. Satoru speaks before she can walk away, making sure to cover Ren’s ears beforehand, “Sayo, you might not be my wife but you’re still going to be my family.”

“I appreciate it, Satoru.” She manages to say, before walking away. Satoru takes his hands off Ren’s ears and smiles down at him.

“Change of plans, I’ll open your mommy’s gift later. Let’s go downstairs.” Satoru tells Ren, grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the room. He’s not letting the boy out of his sight for even a moment, he’ll proudly show off his son tonight.

“Who are–” You’re right outside his door when he opens up, and he interrupts you to answer your question.

“Sayo’s parents.” He says, and your eyes widen. You don’t know much about the situation, but you can only assume this isn’t good news. Mrs. Gojo is chatting with them, keeping them occupied but from what you’ve heard, this isn’t good news.

“Do you want me to leave and take Ren for the time being?” You ask him, trying to grab your baby boy’s hand but Satoru shakes his hand.

“Time to put an end to all of this. I can’t hide him forever… He’s my whole world, how can I?” Satoru responds, and you feel your heart flutter. Your face begins to get warm, and you can’t believe you’re feeling fuzzy because Satoru is being a good father. 

“This won’t cause too many issues, right?” You question, and Satoru won’t tell you the truth but he won’t lie to you either. So he chooses to ignore the question, and picks up Ren from the ground. Satoru walks past you, and you begin to follow behind him. 

You don’t know what’ll happen next, and you’re sure it’s not going to be the best scene. You’re almost sure that you’ll be the one that’s going to be blamed for everything, but there’s no way you’re leaving Satoru alone with Ren in this mess. You really do wish you could leave with Ren right at this moment, but you understand that this is something Satoru has to do.

“Satoru–” A woman that looks just like Sayo, simply slightly older, begins to speak. She’s taken back by the boy that Satoru holds, her mouth agape as she stares in complete and utter confusion. Could be a cousin of some sort, though the boy looks too much like Satoru. “Did you and Sayo–”

“Who is this boy?” Sayo’s father steps in, and Satoru feels the nerves slowly consume him, but he’ll remain brave. The process of merging just began, and this will surely ruin everything but it doesn’t matter anymore. All Satoru cares for is the little boy that he holds in his arms– And you who stand behind him. 

“My son.” Satoru answers before putting Ren down on the ground. Before he can say anything more, you grab Ren and take him away because he shouldn’t witness any of what’s about to happen. Satoru holds his breath, waiting for a reaction from the pair.

“Sayo!” Her father couldn’t be any louder, as it dawns on him that his son-in-law has a son; a son that is very clearly not his daughter’s.

“She’s not at fault for this, so leave her out of it.” Satoru quickly says, but he knows his words won’t change anything. He’s seen how they interact, it’s the reason why Sayo doesn’t want the news to come out. She could do nothing, but her parents will find a way to blame her for everything.

“She’s known about this, she definitely is at fault.” Her mother responds, and Satoru takes a deep breath. He wants to leave so badly and enjoy the very special day with his son and you, but he can’t leave Sayo alone. Not in this mess at least. 

“Sayo! Get down here!” Her father yells once again, getting desperate for his daughter to come downstairs. But it’s not her who comes down, but you. Their eyes fall on you, the woman who took away Satoru’s son, which can only mean one thing to them.

“You’re the tramp.” Her mother says, and both you and Satoru are completely shocked by her words. You have yet to speak, yet she’s already managed to insult you. You somewhat expected this though so you can’t say you’re too surprised; you’re still a little hurt though. “What the hell did you do to him? Satoru would never–”

“Get out.” Satoru’s voice is harsh, making it clear that they’re unwelcome into his home. Sayo has yet to come down to face this, but Satoru isn’t going to allow it. Not tonight at least. They’re staring at him as if they haven’t heard him, which makes him yell, “Get out! You’re not welcome here!”

“We’re going to talk about this, we’re not leaving.” Sayo’s father says, but Satoru isn’t willing to listen to this now. This is supposed to be a special day for him and his son, yet he feels as if the night is ruined. He feels sorry for Sayo, since she won’t get to deal with this tonight, delaying the inevitable confrontation once again. Satoru just isn’t up to listen to them anymore, especially after the woman insulted you. 

“You’re leaving. I told you that you’re leaving, and if you don’t start moving within the next thirty seconds, I’m dragging you out.” Satoru is seeing red. He’s always had a particular dislike for Ssayo’s parents, but they’ve never made him this angry before. 

They see that he’s very serious about this, and they won’t argue with him now. They’ll leave for the moment, as a birthday present. But they’ll come back tomorrow, and they’re not going to leave until they get a proper explanation from him and their daughter.

“Happy birthday, Satoru, and happy anniversary to you and my daughter.” The woman makes sure to say before leaving the house, doing it to remind you that Satoru is a married man. 

“Where’s Ren?” Satoru asks the moment they step out of the house. He’s not going to allow anyone else to ruin tonight. He’s spending the rest of his birthday with you and his son.

“I left him with Sayo so she wouldn’t come down. I’ll go get him.” You answer, and Satoru nods in response. He runs to the kitchen while you go upstairs to grab your baby.

“Mommy! Look, Sayo and I started playing Mario Party!” Ren exclaims when he sees you step into the game room. You smile at him and at the woman that sits beside him. You found her nearly sobbing, you knew she couldn’t go downstairs with how she was crying. 

“Your daddy wants to see you, Ren.” You tell him, and he pouts. His game just started and you’re tearing it away– it’s fine, at least he’ll get to have cake later.

“But our game just started!” Sayo protests, and you chuckle. You agree,

“Alright, but ten minutes. You know Satoru is impatient.”

After Ren loses to Sayo too many times, he gives up on his game. Which is good for Satoru who was growing a little too impatient while he watched them play. He knows it’s only a matter of time before his mother comes in, asking him to fix this mess. He’s not in the mood for any of this tonight though, and while he wanted to celebrate the day with so many other people, he’s changed his mind. 

He feels bad for leaving everyone else behind when they’ve come to celebrate Ren’s birthday, but he can’t stand being in the place for much longer. He takes you, Ren, and the cake, practically forcing you into a car. You can’t protest much, and you won’t because it’s also his birthday and you’ll grant him just about anything that’ll make him happy.

“Can we have some of the cake now?” Ren asks as he sits right next to it. He was dragged out last minute from his own party, he might as well get a piece of his cake. 

“When we get to where we’re going.” You answer, although you’re not sure how long the ride is. Satoru dragged you out with such urgency, and you wonder if someone is expecting you. Are you late for something? You guess you’re not, Satoru just needs a breath from his home. 

You’re proven right when he pulls into the home that he took you not too long ago. You can only imagine the scene that Mrs. Gojo was going to cause, so you understand his decision.

You exit the car, and grab the cake before Ren can get his hands on it. Satoru picks up his baby boy and takes him inside the house, commenting, “Soon enough you’re going to be too heavy for me to carry.”

“Grammy says the same thing.” Ren points out, and while they chatter, you look around the place. It’s more ready than before, filled with new and luxurious furniture. Satoru’s moving in soon, that’s what you can gather. 

You don’t stare for too long since the cake is getting heavy for you to carry. You remember the way to the dining room, so you go there and set the cake down on the table. You hear how both of them laugh which brings a smile to your lips. Ren loves his father more than anything, and you’re happy that he can finally spend his birthday with Satoru. 

“Mommy!” Ren yells, and you follow the voice that calls out for your name. You find them in the kitchen, Ren on the kitchen counter while Satoru looks for something to eat in the fridge. When Ren sees you, he immediately asks, “Can we order a pizza?”

“If that’s what you both want.” You answer, and Satoru immediately closes the fridge.

“Good because we have nothing here.” Satoru comments, and you let out a chuckle. 

“Satoru, you’re more than welcome to get something without asking for my permission.” You tell him, and he shakes his head. He’ll rather ask for your permission beforehand. “You’re a grown man, Satoru.”

“I’m grown too!” Ren chimes in, and Satoru side eyes him. 

“What did you just say, pipsqueak?” Satoru teases him as he picks up Ren from the counter. Satoru pulls his chubby cheek and says, “You’re only grown when I can’t carry you anymore.”

“You said that it’d be soon.” Ren reminds his father, and Satoru purses his lips. Ren got him there.

“Yeah, soon. But not now. See, I can still carry you.” Satoru responds. And he’ll still be able to carry Ren for many years to come so Satoru isn’t too worried about it.

“Let me order the food.” You tell them while they begin to bicker about the fact that Ren thinks he’s old now.

After eating your dinner, and playing some games, Ren finally gets to cut his birthday cake. Ren sits on his father’s lap, while Satoru lights up some matches since he forgot to bring the birthday candles. It’s a simple mistake with an easy solution. 

Ren isn’t too upset about the five matches on his birthday cake since he’s too focused on the frosting on the cake. Ren is trying to sneak some of the icing while you two sing happy birthday. He finally sneaks it in when you’re clapping, though Satoru notices. Satoru is laughing, telling him, “Blow out the matches.”

“It’s your birthday too.” Ren reminds him, the evidence of his crime all over his lips. Satoru clicks his tongue before blowing the matches for Ren since they’re burning a little too fast. Ren claps for Satoru, as his father takes off the matches from the cake.

“I guess I get the biggest piece since I blew out the fire.” Satoru says, which makes a frown appear on Ren’s face.

“He is right, plus you already got a taste of it.” You join in, and Ren crosses his arms.

“It’s my birthday!” He makes sure to remind the two of you, which makes you chuckle. 

“It’s also your dad’s birthday, you said it yourself.” You say, and Ren begins to get upset so you decide to drop it. You don’t want to tease him too much tonight. You reach over and kiss his cheek before saying, “Let me go get a plate and a knife so I can give my baby boy the biggest piece of cake.”

“I’ll go with you.” Satoru gets Ren off his lap, not wanting for you to spend too much time looking for plates. And maybe he wants to be able to talk to you one on one, especially since he didn’t get the chance to look at the present you gave him.

“You know that leaving Ren with the cake is a bad idea.” You tell Satoru as he follows behind you. He knows that it’s a horrible idea, but if Ren wants to eat the whole cake, he’s more than welcome to. The cake is for him and for nobody else, he can eat it all on his own if it’s what his little heart desires.

“I have a question.” Satoru changes the topic, and you hum. “I didn’t get to see what you got me and now I’m curious.”

“Why don’t you just wait until you get home?” You suggest and Satoru pouts. Maybe the fact that he blew out the five matches has some sort of meaning, he and Ren share one age.

“I’m probably not going back tonight. C’mon, just tell me!” Satoru insists, and you roll your eyes. You’re searching for the plates, and it’d be more helpful if he actually guided you to where the plates were. Your task would be easier if the house didn’t have nearly a hundred cabinets in the kitchen. 

“Help me find the plates and I’ll answer.” You respond, and Satoru sighs before walking over and opening the cabinet for the plates. He won’t take them out until you give him the answer. “Fine. Before my mom left your house, she stole something from you and I’m giving it back.”

“What did she steal?” Satoru’s curiosity just sparked. Your mother isn’t a thief, he knows that she isn’t, so what could she possibly take?

“You remember that music box your parents got for you when you were a baby?” You tell him, and his brows perk up before he nods. “My mom snuck into your room and stole it when she found out I was pregnant. Told me my son will inherit something from his father, and it was that. Ren doesn’t care for it anymore, so you might as well have it back.”

“Really? I was going crazy looking for it. I swore my mom threw it away.” Satoru answers, and you almost feel bad for taking it. But listening to the lullaby was the only way your baby Ren would fall asleep. “I don’t need it back, if Ren has had it this whole time then I’m happy I lost it.”

“Yeah… I don’t know what else to get you since you have pretty much everything.” You respond, and Satoru can’t blame you since it’s true. Satoru has everything a man can ask for… Well almost everything.

“Give me a kiss.” The words blurt out of his mouth, and your eyes grow wide. “Since you claim I have everything. That’s the one thing I don’t have.”

“Tell me why I should kiss you?” You put a hand on your hip, and he sticks out his bottom lip.

“It’s my birthday.” He reminds you, and you roll your eyes again. 

“If I wasn’t in the delivery room, I would’ve been convinced you somehow reproduced with yourself.” You mutter before walking over and kissing his cheek. You know he meant more, but he’s not getting more. Either way, it makes his cheeks turn pink because it’s been a while since he’s felt your lips on any part of his skin. 

The air suddenly becomes thick, and you have to take a deep breath. Before you can speak about it, you decide to change the topic, “Your house is nice by the way, when are you moving in?”

“It’s not mine, it’s yours. I bought it for you.” He answers as he finally grabs the plates that he was withholding. You freeze in your spot, trying to think about the words that he just said. Is he serious? Did you hear right?

“What do you mean mine?” You question, and he’s fighting back a smirk. He kisses the tip of your nose as an extra gift for himself. He begins to walk away and you yell his name, “Satoru! What do you mean?”

“This is your house!” He yells, before completely leaving you alone in the kitchen. You stand dumbfounded, unsure of what to say to him.

You look around the big kitchen, slowly taking it all in. This is your house.

[umemiyan]

𝙋𝙊𝙎𝙏𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙏𝙀𝙈 / 𝙋𝙊𝙎𝙏𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙐𝙈. — 𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖳 𝖨

𝘕𝘌𝘟𝘛 𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘗𝘛𝘌𝘙 ･ 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ･ 𝘛𝘈𝘎𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗨 𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢 𝗫 𝗚𝗡!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ sfw, but minors dni (potential for nsfw continuations) / jjk manga spoilers / this is my version of "came back wrong" gojo inspired by recent events, but it turned out somewhat softer than i expected / what happens when satoru is brought back and suddenly finds himself deeply attached to you of all people?

yandere!gojo / he's also slightly higher-needs disabled coded… idk i tried to approach it as best as i could. it's an unfamiliar thing for reader and they're trying to process it / i very well may try to continue this because it is rotting my brain!! / 1.7k words

“Satoru… you need to eat.”

A full bowl of soup sits on the table before him untouched, his hands resting unoccupied in his lap and eyes trained on your figure as you circle around to stand near him. That piercing blue gaze is ridden with innocence, lips parted like those of a quizzical child, but they turn upwards into a pleased grin when you take a seat in the chair next to him.

You’d prepared a rather simple dish, something you figured might be easy for him to consume and digest given his… peculiar state, but Satoru apparently had yet to pay any interest to it. He instead sat obediently in his chair just as you had commanded several minutes ago, unable to initiate the task of feeding himself, for he was much more intrigued from afar by your every move as you tidied the kitchen. It was as though he couldn’t find the drive to function unless you were within an overwhelmingly short distance of him.

Satoru’s heart thumps now that you’re close, a burst of satisfaction rushing through his brain. Dopey yet stimulating chemicals. You are Pavlov’s ringing bell. 

He is reminiscent of a child picked up from school by their beloved parent, or a puppy being reunited with its owner after a day at the vet, overcome with joy and unable to properly contain it. He leans forward and presses his lips to your neck as though that is the appropriate response to his elation, the crossed wires in his brain telling him that this is the sort of affection that will please you and is therefore the sort of affection he most desperately wants to give.

His condition was difficult to understand, and you wouldn’t call yourself properly equipped to deal with it, but there was simply no other option but to try; Gojo wouldn’t let anyone else try, the horrible rattling in his skull consuming him when deprived of your presence for too long. Yuuta had described the look in his eyes as “frenzied and lost.” You were told that the infirmary still needed repairs.

Once he returned to this world, Satoru had been stripped down to his essence, bare bones, a creature of instinct, reduced to something quite simple yet difficult for the average person to understand. But you had to understand, or try at the very least. This was the new burden placed upon your shoulders; it was either soothe this new version of Satoru Gojo for the sake of the world, or find a way to send him back into the icy arms of death. You were often caught between which option sounded worse.

However, when met with the sweetest and most earnest of his smiles, your bones were frosted with guilt, and you regretted ever entertaining the idea of letting him go again.

You stumble over getting him to perform necessary tasks and be further than 5 feet away from you at any given time, because it seems that, upon his revival, Satoru equates you and only you with everything of importance in his life. It’s more than a little unnerving given the fact that you’d never so much as even kissed prior to the loss of him, and now his neurons only fire off every happy memory he’s ever had of you, every positive thing he’s ever felt, no matter how stifled. You are his entire world now, and he can’t even verbalize it, but as each day passes following his awakening, you’re starting to gather that much on your own. You can’t be frustrated for long, however, because his cheerfulness is contagious, his enthusiasm making you feel loved even if it is somewhat smothering.

Is this selfish of you? 

The man's lips travel slowly across your skin, pacified by your presence, your taste, and ignoring the grumble in his stomach. How does one differentiate the types of hunger? You don’t attempt to fight him off, but rather exhale a defeated sigh in response. It hasn’t been long since you’ve been tasked with this responsibility, but it feels as though you’re frequently fighting a losing battle and failing him all the same. It’s so peculiar, so very unnatural… but still, you have to try.

“Satoru, please…” you beg, voice light in his ear and a hand settling at his nape. His nerve endings come alive every time his name leaves your lips. The bell. “Just one bite? For me?”

That seems to do the trick, as you’ve gathered. Satoru pulls himself back, hyper-aware of the tone in your voice and suddenly willing to comply. He’s more than eager to accept the spoon into his mouth when you offer it, placing your fingers beneath his chin and carefully bringing the soup up to his lips. He swallows it with ease, the task literally more palatable now that you’ve reminded him of how badly you would like him to complete it. Anything for you.

“There,” you say, satisfied and offering a faint, exhausted smile. He grins widely in response and hums, no longer capable of words of his own, but his simple noise expresses his glee with efficacy. Satoru decides to punctuate it by pressing the tip of his nose to yours for good measure.

It feels wrong to enjoy these subtle moments of intimacy with someone who doesn’t appear to be in his right mind, but who are you to say whether he is or not? There’s still an agency he possesses, a heart full of emotions, and a mind teeming with thoughts that you wish you could be privy to. He might be different now, but part of you wants to say with certainty that the old Satoru is still here with you somehow—you can sense it. He chuckles at particular images that flash across the TV and still gets a kick out of teasing you to some degree. To diminish that seems like a disservice to him.

You’re unable to deprive him of the happiness your closeness provides nonetheless; in fact, it’s obviously rather dangerous for you to even try and do so. Satoru’s conscious recollections are filled primarily with you, but his body is still more or less the same as it always was—the vessel of his clan’s power, the strongest sorcerer on earth. You’re not sure to what extent he remembers how to control these abilities, but part of you doesn’t wish to find out. For now, you care for him, placate him, re-learn him. Nothing is certain about the situation other than the fact that he apparently needs you now more than ever.

Your eyes soften at the warmth he exudes, and you wonder if he really remembers who you even are—or were—to him. It’s not worth pondering over for now, however. He needs to eat.

“Another?” you ask, testing to see how willing he is to fulfill your wishes. Satoru often easily complies once you’ve expressed satisfaction in him doing so, but all of this is still so new and experimental; you never know when he might decide to switch gears.

However, still smiling, he nods, and you bring another spoonful of soup up to his lips for him to swallow. It pleases you to see him finally getting something into his stomach, and he can sense it, taking it upon himself to further your agenda and simultaneously realizing just how gratifying it is to fill his belly.

“Good,” you say, and he feels rewarded. He is crowned by your praise. Exalted. You take him to the greatest heights with the simplest of words.

You place the spoon back in the bowl and Satoru takes it in his grasp, feeding himself without quarrel while you observe. Most of his motor skills appear to be intact as far as you’ve seen despite the cognitive and behavioral changes, and if someone were to look upon him from afar, you’re fairly certain they would never know the difference. But you’re still trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together little by little, deciphering each bit of information and also determining just how deep his severe attachment to you really goes.

Why did it end up being you? Why do you suddenly seem to be the only thing that makes sense to him in this entire universe?

You can’t answer that, he can’t answer that, it’s just the way it is. Satoru doesn’t need to know why you nearly consume his every thought, he just knows that you make him happy, and that’s truly all that counts in his version of the world. He’ll chase it on instinct until death decides to take him again; he’ll tear down anything that stands in his or your way, for you alone are all that he thinks he has left to cling to. Never matter the others that show concern for him—they’re nice enough, earning a small smile or even the privilege to touch before he shakes them off and seeks you out again. It’s nothing personal. It’s simply pathological.

Leaning an elbow on the table, you turn the possibilities over in your mind as you silently watch him eat. A life has been restored, but yours has been turned upside down, and you have to figure out just exactly what you’re going to do about it. You suppose that taking baby steps ought to be the best way to make progress, but how do you make space for someone like this out of the blue? You’ll have to give it your best shot.

Satoru finishes drinking down the remaining broth of his soup, and you pose a question. “Would you like to go for a walk with me today?”

He sits the bowl down and looks over at you, eyes assessing your features and mind processing what you’ve asked. He hasn’t been out much in the days following his return, but you don’t see any reason to keep him cooped up inside if he happens to respond well to a casual outing with you. Taking him for a stroll outside seems like a decent way to test the waters.

Satoru smiles and nods, recalling memories of how your hair looked when touched by the wind. He’d be glad to accompany you outside if it meant he could see you glow in the sun, radiant and warm. The center of his universe.

“I think it’ll be nice,” you remark with a grin, an ounce or two of weight being lifted from your shoulders at the positive shift in outlook. Baby steps.

Reaching out to take your hand, Satoru squeezes it in his own to convey his agreement. It’s as if he’s trying to say, “everything is nice when I’m with you.”

[gffa]

Shmi finding the echoes of Anakin in the Tusken that delivers a black melon to her because Anakin helped them when he was young, that she finds comfort in the stories of him, the way he affected the world around him, that's so much what George Lucas was going for with the concept of letting go--forcing someone to stay with you because you're afraid to let them go will only hurt them, will only crush them in your hand. But if you let them go, if you can find happiness in them working towards the dream they had, then you'll see all this beauty in the ways they affected the world, you'll find that they're in your heart, you'll find happiness in their happiness. Of course Shmi misses her son and Shmi has had a life that no one should ever have to live, but the message of Star Wars is that in loving other people, in letting them go on to do what they were meant to do, you'll find true joy and everlasting contentment. Shmi is one of the strongest people in all of Star Wars, because she took her pain and suffering and turned it into love for her son, she let him go, and if it weren't for Palpatine, I honestly believe that Anakin would have overcome his issues and become the brightest star in all the galaxy.

[kykyonthemoon]

Nightmares

When nightmares strike, you are the sole source of warmth that could help him overcome his inner turmoil.

ಇ. Character x Reader/MC

(Caleb, Rafayel, Zayne and Dawnbreaker, Xavier and Glitch!Xavier)

ಇ. Tags: hurt/comfort, angst with a little fluff, emotional hurt, comfort

ಇ. Word count: 3k7

ಇ. Requested anonymously.

ಇ. Masterlist

ಇ. Request

Pic from X

𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒃

It was a sunny afternoon when he returned to his old house.

That place still had a modest beauty, the kind of beauty that made family members feel sad every time they left. It was so deeply engraved in his mind that with every breath, he knew he was closer and closer to returning home.

There, would be someone always waiting for him.

The door creaked when opened. Caleb walked inside. The familiar smell of food and the sound of cooking in the kitchen were always the things that impressed him the most. He continued in that direction till he noticed a familiar figure sitting at the dining table, back to the aisle.

Caleb grinned and spoke your name. You did not reply. He went forward, putting one hand on your shoulder to turn you around.

Your lifeless eyes glanced up at him.

"Pipsqueak? What's wrong?"

You did not respond. You slowly rose up and entered the kitchen. Why was this place so dark and cold? Caleb failed to recall the house being this vast and gloomy.

"Where are you going? I'm back now, pipsqueak?

You halted. The warm sunlight poured down on him through the window, but where you stood just a few steps away from him, everything was in darkness.

Even you.

“You only came home now…” You spoke, but your voice didn't contain any emotion. You were always the one who ran into his arms when he came home after long journeys away! Why were you being so distant then?

“Pipsqueak…”

Caleb reached out to you. How he wanted to touch you! He wanted to hold you in his arms and if he had to beg your forgiveness for leaving you, he would definitely do so.

He had been gone for too long.

You looked at him. Tears began to fall and your face showed little emotion. Not joy, but resentment. You became distorted and writhed as if fire surrounded your body.

“You've been gone for too long!”

You screamed out in pain. Caleb quickly rushed towards you, but it seemed like a force was holding him back, making him unable to move. Just like that, he could only open his eyes and watch you burn. The kitchen was on fire. The house was on fire. Everything was on fire.

“You've been gone too long, Caleb!” You shouted. Your tears turned into blood as your body burnt in the flames. “You left me alone! You abandoned our home!”

The walls cracked, the windows exploded and debris flew all around, cutting you, cutting him. The ceiling began to collapse. But there was nothing Caleb could do. He just cried.

“Pipsqueak… Please…”

“You… left me… here...”

Your plaintive screams were swallowed by fire. When he finally was able to reach out and touch you, there was nothing left there but a burned corpse.

The fire disappeared. The cozy house in Caleb's memory had become ruins. He clutched your corpse, which was scorched black and was disintegrating into dust. The sobbing inside him turned into a protest against himself.

He left, because he thought it was the best thing for you.

When it all came back, to this place, many years ago, he had caused the house to explode. To you, he had been dead since then. He didn't have time to say goodbye. But he only had to do it to ensure your safety.

In the end, he could not save you. He could not save himself.

Still, you left this world. Still, you turned into ashes. Who did this to you; it was not the matter. Not when you had already died the day he left.

Caleb yelled with anguish. He lost you, he lost his home. The one thing that kept him going was gradually vanishing, soaring with the wind and never returning to him.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Pipsqueak!”

Caleb shouted. He opened his eyes to see the familiar bedroom ceiling, which was dimly lit by street lights outside the window and visible through the curtains.

Beside him, you turned over. With your eyes still closed, one hand struck his chest.

“What now?… Waking me up in the middle of the night…” You said in a sleepy voice. Caleb grabbed your hand and turned around to hug you. Only when he felt your warmth and buried his face in the scent of your hair could he calm down.

“It's nothing, pipsqueak…” He whispered. “It was just a nightmare… Sorry for waking you…”

You breathed evenly in a straight position on the bed. Your mouth grumbled something like: "Idiot... You're a grown-up now, and you're still afraid of nightmares..."

Caleb smiled softly. He gave you an even tighter embrace. "Yes. I'm such an idiot. I'm so terrified of nightmares every time I have to leave you."

“But I'm right here. Now will you let me go back to sleep?”

“Just let me hold you a little longer…” He whispered as he put his hand beneath the pillow and softly drew you into his loving arms.

You were real in front of his eyes.

And he had no intention of allowing you to vanish like in that dream again.

𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒍

Waves crashed onto the shore in regular rhythms. The twisted moon overhead sent a feeble light into the sea, engulfing the two little figures standing by it. The water had reached their knees, and the two were leisurely dancing together.

Spinning. Around and around. Magically shimmering water droplets continued to soar high with each stride. You smiled pleasantly at him. That night, you became his bride.

The celebration was over. Only the two of you remained together, from now until eternity. You were so beautiful, so perfect. Your love for him was as pure as your smile.

And he should have felt happy.

He should have, because after all, he had got you and this perfect ending. But was this really the end?

He gazed at you with melancholy eyes. You smiled heartily as you whirled around. Sea water surged up high, bathing your entire body in a vivid crimson color. The entire water surface became the color of blood.

You were still dancing, as if the pungent odor of death gave you delight. You were immersed in blood when he gazed at you. Hatred was the only thing burning in his heart at that time.

You swayed a little farther, then turned towards him. Your arms stretched out as you called affectionately:

“Rafayel! Hurry. Come with me!”

He moved closer. He was strolling through a pool of blood from his own kind. Lemurian blood was dispersed over the waters.

Unbeknownst to you, as you turned your back on Rafayel, one of his hands was wrapped around your waist, the other brandishing a knife.

“I like this place. Can we stay here forever?” You said, as if you didn't care about the blood gushing at your feet.

"Alright." Rafayel replied in a cold voice. “If you like it here, we'll stay.”

You leaned your head back with joy, resting on his chest. You were so little, yet you had a powerful heart. So gorgeous. He only wanted to strangle it, tear it out of your chest, and toss it into the deep sea.

He wanted you to pay the price.

You closed your eyes and hummed the melody he once sang for you. How foolish of him! He had given you everything—his love, his life, his whole kingdom... Everything was ruined by your hands.

Now, he shall take it all back.

Rafayel raised your chin and let you stare at him for a long while. You were smiling still. But he swung the sharp blade high, plunging into your heart.

In your eyes was terror and agony. Tears streamed from the corners of your eyes, but he still held your chin in his palm, making you unable to look away as his other hand forced the hilt of the dagger, deeper into your heart.

“Rafayel… Why… Why?…”

That was all you could say before the vivid red blood from your heart spread to his palm, spilling into the sea and merging with the blood of the Lemurians.

He should have been satisfied. He should have been thrilled since he carried out his vengeance.

But he simply felt broken.

When he tossed your lifeless corpse into the water, it seemed like he had died too that very moment.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Rafayel!!!… Stop… I can't… breathe… Rafayel!…”

You pinched Rafayel's cheek hard; he was sleeping on your chest. His weight prevented you from breathing normally. The ache awoke him. White pearls dropped from the corners of his eyes.

“Rafayel?…”

You frowned and watched him slowly rose up, both hands resting on your pillow. When he lowered his head, the radiant pearls continued to rain on your face and the bed.

“Hey… What's wrong?” You lifted your hands to caress his cheeks. “Why are you crying?”

“I… just had a nightmare…”

Rafayel gasped. It must have been a really horrific nightmare to make him this way. He fell asleep, his body was all over you, and then he started weeping. You had never seen him like this, and it concerned you.

"What did you dream about?" Your arms curled around Rafayel's neck, bringing him closer. He hesitated, as if he didn't want you to know, then revealed:

“In my dream, I had to kill the person I loved.”

Silence filled the room. The sky over your head was twinkling with stars. Rafayel's bedroom was filled with the lovely sound of the sea. You rubbed your face into the crook of his neck and murmured:

“I trust Rafayel will never harm me.”

“Are you sure? Even I don't know... The person in the dream... It's not me..."

"That's right." You rubbed his sweaty back. “That person is definitely not you. You know, people say dreams are the opposite of reality. What you saw will not happen.”

Rafayel was calmer, however, you still felt his body trembling in your arms.

“I won't allow that to happen…” He replied. “Having to end the life of the person I love… It is far more painful than being stabbed in the heart by that same person…”

“Rafayel.” You said in a serious tone. You held Rafayel's face with both hands, forcing him to look at you. His hair was tangled, and pearls were no longer pouring from his eyes, but they remained red. “I don't know what will happen in the future, but as long as I still breathe, I will never hurt you.”

Rafayel gazed at you for a time before gently smiling. “That's a promise between the two of us then.”

𝒁𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆

“Zayne… So cold… I'm… so cold…”

Zayne helped you up, quickly wrapping his thick coat around you. His hands stroked your body repeatedly to keep you warm. But you were growing colder. Your breath slowly escaped your body as the sorrow smothered his heart

“No… Wake up… Don't sleep! Please!… Don't sleep now…”

Zayne's scarred and bloody hand clumsily held on to you. So tight. He wanted to give you all his warmth. But did he even have any warmth left?

“It's useless.”

The voice sounded as if it had just escaped his mind. Zayne turned around. Behind him stood Grim Reaper, another Zayne dressed in a cloak as black as the night. Cold and cruel.

“You know you can't save her.”

"Shut up!" Zayne's shouts resonated across the wind and snow. He would never leave you alone in this cold.

Yet Grim Reaper's voice still echoed:

“You know why she died.”

Trembling, Zayne gradually dropped his gaze to the girl in his arms. In the center of your chest, bright, sharp pieces of ice were developing more and more.

"No… NO!" Zayne screamed. His palm touched the shards, causing them to tear into his skin. Bleeding. “I will save her! I must save her!”

He breathed into your numbed hand. But the more he touched you, the greater the ice formed around your body.

“Give up.” Grim Reaper spoke again. Zayne ignored him, despite the fact that they looked absolutely the same.

Nightmare. He had always been his nightmare. Perhaps in another universe, he was the Grim Reaper. And he felt like he was progressively becoming the Grim Reaper as you left this life, leaving him behind.

“Stay with me, please… Open your eyes and look at me….” Zayne begged over her corpse. His tears turned into drops of ice. They fell onto your body and shattered.

You could no longer hear his cries.

"You cannot save her." Grim Reaper said. He was bending down on one knee beside you, on the other side of Zayne. His hand in the black glove brushed across your frost-covered face, as if he, too, was in grief. "After all, you cannot save yourself."

"Leave!" Zayne yelled in rage and suffering. His embrace of you became more intense, as if he wanted to take you away from Grim Reaper's reach. He grinned with bitterness.

"Remember. You are the one who killed her.”

Zayne shook his head, repeatedly. Everything in front of his eyes drifted away. Grim Reaper also vanished. There were only you and him remaining.

He had murdered you.

You and he promised to get through this together. He would save your dying heart, and you would help him in his escape from the curse of his Evol. It was a curse. He was unable to control it, and there came calamity.

Help you? No, he was not your savior. He was your death.

Zayne heard Grim Reaper's laugh - his own laugh - echoing in his thoughts. Cruel yet full of bitterness.

The snowstorm came, but it could not bury his sin and regrets.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

When you came into Dr. Zayne's office during lunch break, you noticed the temperature was unusually low.

You discovered Zayne asleep on the sofa. His body trembled, he broke out in a cold sweat, and his mouth moved without any word heard. You even caught a tear falling from the corner of his eye.

“Zayne? Are you having a nightmare?” You shook him by the shoulders. His entire body felt freezing. The nearest window was covered in frost. You started to panic. But no matter how you attempted to rouse him up, he failed to hear you.

You had to sit on the sofa, placing his head on your lap. You caressed his hair, patted his shoulders and head while comforting him:

"It's alright. I'm here with you… You will be fine…”

After a while, his quiver stopped. His eyes opened slowly. He found you.

“…”

Zayne's hand reached out towards you and then stopped halfway. He was about to touch you but hesitated. Seeing that, you clasped your hand with his.

"What's wrong? Doctor Zayne is experiencing nightmares from overwork, isn't he?"

You smiled. So gentle. That warm beam seemed to calm him down. Zayne's respiration and pulse rate eventually returned to normal. He replied:

“Yeah… My apologies for causing you to worry again.”

When he recognized your cold hand, he became fully awake. He rapidly gained control of his Evol, and the room warmed up to some extent.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes. Much better now.”

Zayne's eyes were still red. He wanted to sit up, but you kept him in your lap for a while longer.

“Lunch break is still long. You can sleep for a bit longer. I will stay here to watch over your sleep.” You declared out loud, as if you were his little defender.

This made Zayne quite happier. He grinned and replied:

“You are always the one who guides me out of nightmares. No matter how bad it gets, I know you will come to my rescue.”

"That's right. Now you can sleep soundly.”

Zayne slowly closed his eyes. He was unsure if he could sleep again after that nightmare. But having you by his side made him feel more at peace. Your fingers squeezed his hand. Your warmth enveloped him. You were alive and well. He still had time to save you, to save himself.

Knowing that made him feel a lot more assured. When you placed a kiss on his forehead, he was ready to face all of the nightmares to come.

𝑿𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓

When Xavier returned to Philos, he did so as a traitor.

He gambled with fate, and lost everything. Honor. Freedom. Love. There was nothing left for him when he returned.

His fleet had crossed countless light years, to innumerable realms out there. But what he was looking for was just an illusion.

And suddenly his entire existence became a curse.

To lose his freedom, to lose the love of his life for eternity. Was that the price to pay for opposing destiny?

In the dark corner of the room, Xavier knelt on the cold stone floor. He could not move, nor speak unless granted permission.

He quietly observed the girl he loved in the garden on the other side of the door. The warm sunshine tenderly casted a lovely aura over your body. Your grin shone brighter than the myriad of flowers in the yard. How many times did Xavier want to approach you, call your name, and touch you? But he could not.

Every time he came close to you, the crimson chain around his neck tightened. It did not murder him, but it was painful and debilitating enough. All he could do was stare at you holding hands with an unknown person. Someone with a physique similar to his.

That man was the King, you were his Queen. And Xavier was nothing but a sinner, a tool to be used, a killing machine. All for you. He would do everything for you, but you were no longer his lover.

You failed to recognize him. You were no longer the same as before. Since the person he truly loved was dead.

She was once a Queen. He had vowed to be the Knight standing beside her. But he left her alone on the cold throne. She died and was reborn, again and again. How many times had his love died before he came back?

The girl in front of him now had no memory of those lives anymore. It was a blessing. For you would no longer have to cry over the treachery you believed he had committed on you.

His only wish was to save you; to save the girl he loved from the spiral of death and rebirth. But when he tried to cut off your chains, he, too, was bound by another curse.

He watched you die and come back in another life. As many times as you sat on that throne, he became a slave at your feet, and as many times as he witnessed your death. He could not do anything else, not even scream and weep.

For, he had been cursed since the day he left you alone.

“Xavier… Save me… I don't want… to die…”

He stared down at your body, which was securely tied to the stone table. Trembling. His Queen begged him. Xavier was shrouded in black. The chain around his neck became tighter.

“Do it, Xavier! Stop wasting time!”

The crowd behind urged him. Xavier's palm clenched on the shiny hilt of his sword.

“No… Xavier… Please!…”

“The sacrifice must be completed! Do not forget your duty as Philos' royalty, Xavier! Do not forget how you betrayed us and what punishment you must endure!”

Xavier closed his eyes tightly. You and him, you could never escape this fate. He raised his sword, once more. He ended your torment, for another life.

Yet, his suffering would never cease.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Xavier awoke with tight agony in his neck and chest. His pillow was drenched from weeping. He heard your frightened voice repeating in his ears:

"Oh dear! You have a high fever!”

Through tears, he watched you climb out of bed. You were going to go fetch him a damp towel and medication. But he pulled you back. He wrapped you securely in his arms.

“X-Xavier? How are you feeling? You scared me?…”

“Sorry… I'm really sorry…”

He continued muttering like that. You began to suspect that his apology was not for waking you up in the middle of the night screaming, or that he was hugging you so tightly that you were suffocating. Was there anything else going on?

"Did you have a nightmare?" You questioned as you wrapped your arms around him, rubbing his neck and back.

Xavier responded with a gentle "yeah". He eased his hold slightly to allow you to breathe. But seeing his condition, you couldn't help but worry.

"You have a fever." You mentioned it again. "Let me get medicine for you…"

“Stay with me!” Xavier spoke, almost like a grumble. It startled you. His arm was draped around your torso, and his other hand gripped your wrist firmly. Xavier dropped his voice, recognizing he was becoming overly emotional: "Please... Just stay here a little longer..."

“Alright… I'm here…” You comforted Xavier. You cared about nothing other than his mental turmoil. But you believed he would feel better, and when he was ready, he would tell you everything.

A moment later, when he had calmed down, Xavier said:

“I'm sorry… I didn't mean to make you sad or worried…”

"It's fine. I just want you to know that I will always be by your side… Besides, we also have Galaxy Kid, Bunbun and these plushies..."

Both Xavier and you gazed at your plushie-filled bed. He grinned faintly, as if he was finally at ease. You added

“We'll get through everything together, okay?”

For a moment, Xavier said nothing. He just tilted his head slightly to look at you closely. His hand caressed your face as if you were a treasure he once lost, then found.

“Of course. We will get through everything together. Definitely…” His voice trailed off as he fell into a hazy condition caused by the fever in the middle of the night. “This time… I won't let you face it… alone…”