#i kinda wanted to keep the home screen but at the same time i wanted new pics for everything

[reignpage]

Dog-Eat-Dog World

Synopsis: what life is like with Siberian husky hybrid!Gojo Warnings: 18+ mdni, porn with a little plot, fluffy, cursing, dubcon, established relationship, cunnilingus, blowjob, 69, boobjob, rimming, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise, switch!Gojo, backshots, spitting, mention of somnophilia, possessiveness, creampie, knotting, not proofread Word Count: 4.9k

Dating Husky!Gojo means there are rarely ever any quiet moments. He talks a lot. In fact, he never seems to stop. He could talk your ear off about anything. And he certainly does try. 

“Y’know, squirrels can be categorised into three types. There are ground squirrels, tree squirrels and flying squirrels. Have you ever seen a flying squirrel? I saw one once and it was so ugly. It had these weird flaps and they look like little rats with wings. Tree squirrels are pretty common. You see them all the time, right? Yeah, there’s no way you’ve never seen a tree squirrel; they’re everywhere.”

Sighing, you ruffle his hair as he lies on your lap, staring up at you with those big blue eyes. Eyes fluttering close, he makes a low growl of appreciation, tilting his head so you can get to that spot by his erect ear that makes his leg twitch. 

“Hmm, I love when you scratch me there. You do it really well, y’know? Like, really really well. No one scratches better than you. I’ve tried myself but it’s never the same.” He barks a sudden laugh. “It kinda sounds like I’m talking about something else, doesn’t it?”

Something on the TV catches his attention and he tenses up, head tilting and ears flickering to focus all his energy on the curiosity on screen. But then your nails scrape his scalp, and his eyes are rolling back. He falls down onto your lap and gives you a lopsided grin. 

“Sorry. What was I saying? Oh, right. You scratch so good. You could scratch me all day and I wouldn’t ever ask you to stop. If you scratched me for the rest of my life, I would never get bored. Do you want to test that out?”

With a soft smile, you reply, “I don’t think that’s possible, Toru. I have to work, and I can’t take you with me, can I?”

He grumbles, “No, I guess you can’t. But I’m rich. Or rather, my family is, so you don’t have to work anymore, you can just stay with me all day, every day, forever! I get it though, so you don’t need to give me the lecture about independence and the important of keeping busy. I just want to be with you all the time! I hate being alone and waiting for you to come home. You take forever. It’s like a whole eternity passes.”

Husky!Gojo loves being on your lap for reasons other than being able to rest as you give him head scratches. No, he likes how close he is to the source of the best smell he’s ever smelt in his entire life. He loves it so much, sometimes he focuses more on the apex of your thighs than whatever’s playing on the TV. 

He shifts his head so he can press his nose right there, burying deeper until he can take long inhales and let your scent engulf his very being. His ears are perked up and his tail is wagging excitedly. 

“Satoru, what are you doing?”

He whines at the strict tone of your voice, and with guilty eyes he peers up at you, wincing once he sees your raised brow. His ears lie flat, tail slowing to a halt, and he stretches his neck ever so slightly to bare more of that long length. 

“It’s not my fault,” he mutters. “You just smell so nice. Can’t I just sniff you for a little longer? I won’t go further, I swear!”

You roll your eyes. You know if you don’t give in now then he’ll badger you relentlessly until you eventually do. Plus, it’s not as if you were impervious to the pressure of his nose against your clit, through your shorts. 

And when you shift under his head, he knows he’s won. 

In a clumsy flurry, he’s flying off the sofa, kneeling between your legs and gripping onto the plush of your thighs to spread them. When he sees that wet spot he’s been manifesting, his ears perk up once more and you can hear the way his tail is swishing on the cold floor. 

“You always play hard to get and yet we always end up just like this,” he growls, amusement sparkling in his sky-blue eyes. Then, he dives in, using his paws to tear apart your shorts and panties in one swift move. His long, slobbery tongue lolls out and he’s licking from quivering hole to twitching clit. Your hips jolt. “Oh, you taste so good. I love you so much. God, I missed your pussy. It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve gotten to say hello.”

It’s embarrassing how wet you got and how quickly, but the way he’s lapping up your juices so eagerly makes you forget all about shame. There are very few things better than the way he lays his tongue flat against your clit, allowing you to hump it for a couple seconds before he gets impatient and rolls the little bud around, loving the way sweat is beading down your thighs, making it difficult to get gripping on your warm flesh. 

“Ngh! Toru!” You exclaim. There’s a delicious tingling emanating from your pussy as he laps your essence repeatedly, desperately, like it’s all he’s ever wanted. “Slow down!”

Husky!Gojo ignores you. Instead, he slides his wet, fat tongue all over your tasty pussy with restless abandon — there’s no rhyme or rhythm, it doesn’t even seem like he cares about your pleasure, he’s only seeking to taste every drop of what you’re willing to give him. 

“I love your pussy so much,” he moans against your slit, the vibrations making your back tense. “I want to stay between your legs forever. Can I? Can I? Please?”

When you don’t reply, too lost in the pleasure, he snorts and spreads your cunt with his fingers instead, needing to feel more of your sloppy pussy. It’s dripping, practically oozing with your juice and he thinks he’s in heaven. He licks and slurps and probes your tight opening with his long tongue, snaking it inside. 

“Wait! Satoru!” You thread your fingers through his fluffy hair, nails scraping against a sensitive spot, and he growls. 

“Hey! No fair! You’re trying to distract me!” His voice is muffled, and his canine accidentally nudges the underside of your clit. You clench down on his tongue, and he gets even more irritated. It’s so unfair how, even without trying, you’re making his cock throb so terribly in his pants. 

Seeking revenge, he rubs your clit, matching the tempo of your moans, rubbing it in furious circles with his thumb. You cum hard. “Oh, Toru! Fuck! Fuck! Soooo goooood!”

You’re creaming down on his tongue and the sweet taste is making him lose his mind. He slurps at your entrance even faster, licking wide and wet strokes all over, even at the creases of your thighs, spreading your juices and his saliva where he can reach, perhaps unknowingly or perhaps because he wants to make you remember how good he made you feel when your thighs stick together.

“That’s enough, Toru! I can’t take anymore!”

Husky!Gojo ignores you again. He’s still licking, alternating between flickering the tip of his tongue on your adorable clit and thrusting it inside your pussy, curling the appendage up at your walls. Your legs are shaking and he’s trying to keep you still, lest you ruin his favourite meal. 

“Oh! Oh! Satoru, fuuuuck!” 

You push away from him, nails digging into the armrest, but he’s still licking at your clamped thighs, skimming along your ass and you practically have to shove at his head. 

Minutes later, when your consciousness returns to you, you dare look at him, still kneeling, tail wagging and with a shameful layer of shiny juice dripping down his chin. He tilts his head tauntingly. A cocky grin on his face, he asks:

“Did I do good?”

Husky!Gojo is very energetic. He loves to go to the park and run wild. Of course, it’s not uncommon to see hybrids like him enjoy nature, but up North, where you’re stuck in a perpetual season of winter, it seems like he’s the only one who prefers to be outside than inside, where it’s warm and cozy. 

For the nth time in a row, you throw the neon yellow tennis ball as far as you can, watching your boyfriend chase after it with excited giggles. He’s a little clumsy, what with his long limbs and tall body, but he’s pretty quick. Following the ball, he snatches it in his hand before he runs back to you, pride glinting in his eyes. 

“Did you see how fast I got that? Wasn’t that faster than last time? Do you think I can go faster? I think I can go faster. No, I definitely can go faster. Watch. Make sure you’re watching, okay?”

You laugh at his serious pout before you throw the ball and watch him leap for it. Despite how cold it is, he never seems to bother with anything more than a hoodie and shorts. Whereas you’re wrapped up in a thick coat, scarf, beanie and gloves, and it still doesn’t feel like enough. You’re slightly jealous of his immunity to the weather but you aren’t of his energy. 

Simply observing his limitless enthusiasm makes you feel sleepy. But your boyfriend needs daily exercise otherwise he moans and groans until it becomes your problem. He needs to run around or else he’s clawing at the walls, pulling at your shirt and whining in your ears. Once, you told him to just go without you, and well let’s just say, you had to make him buy you five new pairs of shoes after his tantrum.

“That’s your boyfriend? He’s an energetic thing, isn’t he?” A man pipes up beside you. 

You hadn’t noticed his approach, but he looks harmless enough. You give him a polite smile. “Yeah, he’s fun.”

“You live around here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.” 

“Oh, well you know, I’m not very social.”

“My wife’s just like you. She doesn’t like the cold very much and we’ve been having discussions about going down South, for the kids. That’s them over there.” Just as he points out, there are children playing tag with your boyfriend, giggling with him as he playfully pretends, they’re too fast for him. “My only concern is, the South isn’t as accepting of hybrids as here. And I don’t want my kids to face any kind of trouble.”

Giving him a sympathetic smile, you can’t say much more. Whilst there are laws protecting hybrids and most people are generally very accepting, there are still close-minded individuals who make life difficult for anyone who’s different. You wonder when that will change. 

“Who are you?”

Satoru has returned, tennis ball being squeezed in his hand as he eyes the stranger. He sniffs the air, assessing whether he’s a threat or not. His ears are pricked forward and tense, as is the rest of his body. He’s ready to attack. 

“He’s just a neighbour.” You give the nice stranger an apology, appreciating the understanding nod he gives you, before you pull your boyfriend away. 

Husky!Gojo is quiet the walk back home. He doesn’t say a word even as you attempt conversation, doesn’t react when you pat him on the back, not even when you tell him you’ll let him do karaoke as loud as he wants; he can be very petulant when he wants to be. 

But once inside, the door clicking into place, he pounces on you. He buries his face into your neck and makes a disgusted sound at the back of his throat.

“You smell like him. I hate it.”

He doesn’t waste any time in tearing off your clothes, even as you’re lying on the cold, hard floor naked. You know better than to argue when he gets in these moods — he needs to feel safe again, and you’ll let him do whatever it takes to do so. 

Fishing his already hard cock out, you’re amazed to find him red and leaking; he must have been imagining all the ways he could re-mark his territory on the way back. 

“I hate sharing you with anyone else,” he mumbles, giving himself one, two, jerks before he’s inching forward to lay the hot and heavy thing between your tits. He likes the sight of his almost transparent cum already wetting your skin, the way your nipples are pebbled and you’re completely at his mercy. “You’ll take care of me, won’t you? You’re the best owner, right? You’re not going to abandon me like this?”

“Of course not, Toru. Take what you want, sweetheart. Make me yours.”

Satoru growls, baring his sparkling white teeth before he paws at your tits, pushing them together so his cock is squeezed perfectly between them. He moans at the softness, thumb flicking your nipple like he can’t help himself. 

He makes quick, shallow thrusts, and you kind of hate how he’s fully clothed — you can’t see the way his abs tense, whereas he can see every part of your body. Somehow, that makes you feel tingly down there. 

His salty scent fills the hot air between you, and when you look down your chest, the sight of his red, hot cock disappearing and appearing between your tits elicits a moan from you. The slit is constantly leaking searing cum which he uses to slide better. In a teasing mood, you stretch your tongue out and poke at it when he emerges.

“Ngh! More! Lick me more!” He orders.

Head thrown back, he’s squeezing your breasts harder together, pinching your nipples sporadically. You obey him just this once, puckering your lips so you can suckle at the head when it nears your face. The salty liquid is strong, and you don’t have to touch your pussy to know you’re leaking just as much as he is. 

“You’re mine. Say it! Baby, I need you to say it. Please? Oh, fuck! I don’t want to cum until you say it.”

Amused, you throw him a bone, suckling particularly hard, right before you say, “I’m yours always, forever, Satoru.”

He cums pretty quickly after that. Hot spurts of that almost clear cum paints your face in streaks, dripping down your cheeks onto the floor. It’s going to be a pain to clean but neither of you care. Satoru heaves above you, flicking your nipples as his way of saying ‘thank you’.

The sight of your face and chest covered in his cum quickly hardens his softening cock once more and he grins at you. “I can smell how wet you are, sweet cheeks. You’re making a puddle on the floor. Now, who’s the messy one? Guess, I’ll have to take one for the team and get started on cleaning, yeah?”

Husky!Gojo likes to sixth-nine. There’s something about giving and receiving pleasure simultaneously that has his tail wagging.

Spinning around, he dives his face into your pussy, bending your legs back so he can have full access to everything. He’s slurping again -- he really does love to make that noise. Annoyingly, he begins motorboating your pussy, flicking his head side to side in a rapid pace just because he can. 

You can’t let him have all the fun. 

So, when he dangles his cock over your lips, smearing his salty cum all over it, you don’t hesitate to suck him in, relaxing your throat so he can push in further whilst you fondle his balls. Already, there’s a hard knot forming at the base of his cock. You’ve grown very familiar with it. Circling your tongue around Satoru’s flared, tapered tip, you also run a teasing finger along the knot. 

He thrusts down your throat and sucks at your clit harder. You both moan together. His tail is tickling your forehead as he waggles it in the air with frantic shakes like he doesn’t even realise he has such a big tell, revealing how he’s feeling at every given moment.

Cupping his heavy balls, you massage the warm sacks, imagining all the cum he’s got stored for you. Satoru makes small, humping motions, abandoning your cunt as he chases his pleasure. It’s all too much for him. Your mouth is so steamy, so tightyou’re your scent is attacking his senses. And just as your finger wanders upwards, beyond his knot and his balls, and to that puckered hole, just skimming the edge, he cums in your mouth, spraying down your throat with his salty essence.

“No! T-that’s so unfair! Y-you can’t just do that without -ngh- giving me a heads up,” he complains through his orgasm.

Soon after, he makes you cum on his tongue. He lapped up your dripping pussy, digging deep to taste all of your cream, and thumbing at your clit the way that you like as he stretched out your pussy with his tongue. And when, he too ventured beyond, tongue sliding down your slit and to your puckered hole, your legs wrapped around his head. 

“Satoru!”

“Not so fun now, is it?” He tried to taunt, but he was distracted by the taste of you. “Why haven’t I done this sooner? Ugh, you’re always so mean, keeping things away from me. Hope you learn your lesson, you mean baby.”

He inched his way in ever so slightly, rubbing incessant circles around your clit, and growling at the splash of cum he felt all over his face as you fell victim to his need to even the scales. 

Lying in a heap of sweaty bodies, heavy limbs, and mixed juices, he holds you in his arms, face buried in your neck as he rumbles, satisfied that you smell like him and only him. 

“I hate that park now. Let’s never go there again.”

“Whatever you say, Toru.”

Husky!Gojo is a pain in the ass. He follows you around everywhere and he doesn’t understand boundaries. 

When you get up from the sofa to go to the kitchen, he’s right behind you. He doesn’t even need anything, not a cup of water or a snack. He’s pressed so closely to your back, he becomes your shadow.

Even when you leave the bed in the middle of the night to pee, you don’t need to look up to know he’s standing in the threshold, sleepy eyes squinting at the bright lights, and fuzzy tail swishing lazily behind him. 

“Hurry back,” he demands. “I’m sleepy.”

“Then go to sleep, Satoru. There’s no need to follow me.”

He pouts at that, ears lying flat. And then he’s whimpering. It’s high-pitched and annoying and he knows it. He does it on purpose, knowing that you can’t stand the noise, and it’ll make you rush to get back into bed after washing your hands. 

“Alright, alright. Don’t be a dick.”

Satoru always gets what he wants.

Then, once you’re settled, he’s throwing himself over you, pinning you to the bed and acting as if he can’t hear your muffled complaints. He does it mostly because he wants to keep you close, because he loves the feel of your softness lulling him to sleep. But he also does it to make sure you can’t escape again. 

“Night night!”

Husky!Gojo is a hungry little thing. He’s never satisfied with his own food. No, he scarfs his plate down and then eyes yours. On his face is an expression of complete innocence but you know better. 

“No, Satoru. This is my food.”

Tilting his head, he blinks at you, confused. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” you counter. 

He laughs. “You’re always so suspicious. I’m just watching you eat because I love everything about you. Can’t I do that? Is it not a free country anymore?”

Sighing, you stop arguing with him, but when a noise behind catches your attention, you make the mistake of looking back. You don’t hear him move but you know he has. So, when you hesitantly turn back around, you’re not surprised to find your plate empty and he’s sporting a lopsided grin, full of pride and amusement.

“I’m going to kill you,” you threaten. 

Satoru laughs again.

Husky!Gojo has very keen senses. He can hear when you’re coming back home before you even show up at the door. He can sniff out where your keys are, where you’ve left your phone, and somehow know when it’s going to rain. He can hear higher pitches than you, and he makes fun of you for it. 

“You can’t hear that? Seriously, it’s so loud. Are you messing with me? Baby, are you? Because there’s no way you can’t hear that. Should we go to the doctors? I’m worried for you.”

More often than not, he’s deathly serious, and he’s so concerned over your weak senses, as if one day they’ll be the death of you. But once in a while, when you catch him biting back a smirk at your furrowed brows and straining ears, you know he got you. 

“Ow! Ow! You’re so aggressive when you’re being teased. Yeah, okay, I admit, that was a lie. There’s no sound. But there could have been, and you wouldn’t have heard it with your tiny little human ears. Oh, you’re so cute!”

Husky!Gojo has a sixth sense for when you’re extra needy. He can tell when you’re ovulating and it’s embarrassing. He knows before you do. Every time. 

Just lounging casually on the sofa, a peaceful calm blankets over you, watching the snow fall from the sky outside. You’re scrolling on your phone, failing to notice, until it’s too late, his approach. His ears and nose are twitching and he’s eyeing your crotch like it’s a curious thing. He creeps up your legs, firm hands kneading your thighs in what seems like a simple massage before his face is burrowing itself in your pussy. 

“Satoru! What on Earth are you doing?”

He peers up at you like it’s obvious. Taking a deep whiff, he nods like there’s no doubt about it. “You’re ovulating.”

“So?”

Rolling his eyes, he explains, “So, you’re going to need my services to satisfy this hungry cunt.”

Spluttering about his silly logic, you’re powerless against his determined hands, pulling down your pyjama bottoms until you’re bare for him. And then he’s eating you out once more. 

He really loves to do that. He does it whenever he wants — when you’ve just gotten back from work, fresh from the shower, whilst you’re cooking, and even when you’re sleeping. Sometimes he does it not to make you cum but just to taste you, like it’s his favourite pastime.

Suffice to say, it’s no challenge for him to make you cum within minutes, leaving you a sticky mess beneath him. And when your pussy have been stretched enough on his fingers and his tongue, he finds no issue sliding inside whilst you’re barely conscious and having no energy to remind him to wear a condom. 

Husky!Gojo hates those things. 

Once Satoru feels your warm walls, his instincts take over. He drives his cock inside, spearing you. It’s stealing your breath, the stretch making your jaw drop and he licks your lips in an apology for the sudden pain. 

“Aw, baby. I’m sorry. Take deep breaths, okay. Then it’ll feel good again. It’s alright. Toru’s got you.”

The pain’s receding and pure pleasure is washing over you instead. Satoru is giving you the fucking of your life, and maybe this ovulation period really is making your cunt hungrier than usual, because you quickly wrap around your legs around him, pulling him deeper. 

He makes a low noise of approval. “That’s right, sweet thing. You’re gonna cum on my cock, aren’t you?”

You can feel his cock head rubbing against that spongy spot, you’re left reeling, making desperate gasps for air, and he’s grinning at you. He thinks it’s hilarious how reluctant you were before but now all you can think about is cock. His cock and how he’s making you feel so good. 

Satoru can’t decide between staring at your bouncing breasts or the way your pussy is sucking him in, leaving his cock shiny with your juices. Your clit is exposed, and, without much thought, he spits a fat glob onto it, watching the way it twitches so adorably. 

Then, as if he’s tired of foreplay, he tears off your clinging limbs and spins you around, wrangling you into his favourite position. Now, you’re on your knees, a hand on your back forcing you down into an almost painful arch. This way he can see everything and when he slides back in, he swears he goes even deeper, his tip kissing your cervix when he bottoms out. 

“Oh, Toru! Too deep! I c-can’t.”

He shushes you. “You can and you will. You have before, remember, baby? You love it when I fuck you from behind, don’t you?”

Soon, his relentless pummelling begins again, his heavy balls smacking against your clit, setting your nerves alight. He reaches below, one hand pressing down on that bulge in your lower stomach and the other twisting a nipple between his fingers. Satoru sees the light sheen of sweat on your back and he licks a stripe up your spine. 

“Every part of you tastes so good. How is that even -ha- possible?” He growls. 

You don’t answer. You can’t answer. Instead, you beg, “Harder, Toru! Fuck me harder!”

And so, he does, he drills his pulsing cock inside, rubbing your clit as he pounds you over and over again, forcing your body to dive forward on the sofa, head hanging over the armrest. He’s stretching you out so much you almost can’t believe that he’s really in there, so when you examine your poor, sloppy pussy with your fingers, you can only whimper when you feel his cock undeniably hammering inside. 

“Told you this pussy’s gonna -ha- want me to fill her up. Now, who looks silly?”

You also feel the knot making its way in deeper with every thrust and you’re scared. How you manage to take it in every time is beyond you.

You forcibly cum — there’s no way you can’t, not when he’s meeting every sensitive spot inside and outside of your pussy, not when his delirious moans and groans is filling your head like a drug. Through your orgasm, he fucks you like you’re nothing but a wet hole, degrading and humiliating you for his own pleasure. 

“Satoru! No more! I can’t take anymore!”

“Nah, just a little -ha- more, baby, please? Take it all for me, okay? I need -ngh- you to take it all. Can’t be that -oh- hard if you’ve done it so many times before, can it?” He laughs, breathy and strained.

Your orgasm sparked in your womb, flaring out to your clit and your tits until your legs begin to tremble and you’re a shaking mess beneath him. And just as you’re about to give out, he holds your hips steady and slams his entire length inside of you, shoving that fat knot in and you’ve never felt so full.

“Fuck! You’re so tight. Oh God, I love you so much. I love you I love you I love you!”

His cum sprays inside of you, cock throbbing along with the pulsing clenches of your walls. His knot swells up, ballooning and stretching you out even more. Your pussy spams as he fills your womb with his cum. There’s so much of it and as he plugs you in, you can’t imagine there’s any space left inside of you. 

“Tell me I’m a good boy, baby please. Tell me I’m fucking you good. Please, I need it!”

Groggily, you managed to say a muffled, “You’re such a good boy, Toru. Always so good for me. My best boy.”

“Thank you thank you thank you!” He whimpers. He’s not even talking to you, you’re pretty sure. He has a tendency to get so lost in the pleasure he genuinely believes you and your pussy are separate entities. “I love you so much. God, I want to stay inside forever.”

Husky!Gojo slumps against you, pinning you down again. You’re still skewered on his long, fat cock, the knot there keeping you joined for what feels like forever. Both of your bodies are sticky with sweat and mixed juices. But he doesn’t care, in fact, he loves it. He’s making lazy swipes of your neck and your face with his tongue. 

“Was I good? Did I do good?”

You wind an arm back, seeking out his fluffy hair, and once you feel its softness, you scratch him behind his ear, hearing his tail whack the sofa in rapid pats. “Yes, Toru, you were good.”

He huffs proudly at that. 

You’re still trying to catch your breath, trying to reorient yourself, and in the distance, you can feel the soreness that will creep in, but you don’t mind it. It’s hard to care when Satoru feels so warm and strong over you, encasing you in his love to shelter you from the cold as you both watch the snow continue to fall through the steam fogging up the glass. 

“We’ve got probably around twenty minutes before this thing goes down,” he mutters. “Wanna play I spy?”

[starkeymeow]

in which you’re a rising music star who navigates playful tension with actor drew starkey, and your flirtation turns into something deeper amid a viral music video and your grammy win.

content: diff style writing, drew being cute n following readers lead for the mv

authors note: will lowkey write a part 2 and/or the music video version of this if requested but idk, hopefully it was kinda understandable!! i just wanted the pov as if u were watching the yt video for the behind the scenes footage omg

you’ve known of drew starkey—how could you not? he’s a rising star, a name that keeps getting bigger, a face that’s starting to dominate everyone’s celebrity crush list whenever you scroll through tiktok. the kind of guy that gets cast in fan-favorite shows, whose off-screen personality makes people love him even more. charming, funny, effortlessly likable. he’s everywhere.

but what you couldn’t have imagined is that he knew of you first.

it started small, almost too subtle to notice. a clip of him in an interview, sitting back in his chair, nodding as he listens to a question before casually mentioning that he had just discovered a new artist, you, and couldn’t stop listening. he called your music addictive, something about the way you write lyrics just clicked with him. maybe it would’ve gone unnoticed if he hadn’t mentioned it again.

a month later, another interview, another confession. a different setting, a different outfit, but the same topic. only this time, the interviewer caught onto it.

“seems like you’re a fan.”

drew, red in the face, grinning but flustered, just said, “yeah. yeah, i am.”

he didn’t say much else, but he didn’t have to. the internet picked up on the pattern. his name was suddenly linked to yours, your fans and his fans overlapping, people tweeting at you to collab when?, digging through every interview and live stream to see if he’d mention you again. edits of him set to your songs started appearing on every social media feed. some even made it look like you were the leads in some slow-burn romance movie, just from your music videos and his show clips.

and you? you didn’t think much of it. it was flattering, sure. entertaining, even. but you’d never spoken, never met, never had a reason to. it was just one of those internet things, something people liked to fantasize about but wasn’t real.

until about a year ago.

red carpet event, flashing cameras, voices shouting your name. you were mid-step, smiling for a picture when an interviewer stopped you, microphone extended.

“if you win tonight, who’s getting the first thank-you?”

you barely thought about it. “oh, obviously. my parents, my team, everyone who worked on the album . . .” a pause, a flicker of mischief as the words slipped out. “and drew starkey!”

then you scurried off, leaving the interviewer blinking after you. you didn’t look back, but you knew exactly what you’d just done. by the time you got home, twitter had already lost its mind.

so with all that history, all those years of almosts, how could you not end 2024 and start 2025 with a steamy, intimate music video starring your one and only secret admirer?

the behind-the-scenes video you upload to youtube starts with a simple title card—bts: filming my new music video with bae—before fading into a clip of you on set, bundled up in a puffer jacket, arms wide as you greet drew with an easy, “hi!”

it’s the first time meeting him in person. you’ve known of him, obviously, but standing here now, seeing the way his face lights up at the sight of you, it’s different. the camera catches his initial reaction. he smiles wide, like he’s trying to keep himself from grinning too hard, nodding like he’s trying to play it cool. you hug, brief but natural, before the video cuts to your interview.

you’re curled up in your seat, dressed down in sweats, looking entirely comfortable in front of the camera like you’ve done this a hundred times before. one leg is crossed over the other, your head rests against your palm, and the other hand is tucked between your thighs, playing absentmindedly with the fabric of your hoodie. you’re practically beaming as you talk.

“he’s cute. but no, getting drew to agree to the video was no problem,” you admit, a small laugh slipping through. “it just made sense. everybody on twitter and everybody on tiktok can calm down now.”

you grin at the camera before adding, “plus, my mom loved his last movie.”

your friend behind the camera immediately jumps in, amused. “did she?”

you snicker, nodding your head like the answer is obvious. you don’t even need to say anything. your smile says it all.

cut to: on set at night.

you stand close to drew, explaining your vision, the two of you tucked into a quiet corner of the closed-off street. it’s late. you’re talking, hands moving as you try to get the words out just right, and drew listens intently, nodding along, before huffing out a laugh at something you say.

the next shot is of you in position, standing just outside the entrance of a nightclub. the scene is meant to be electric, with the music pounding inside, the city buzzing around you. you refilm the shot a few times, stepping out of the alleyway and onto the sidewalk, pausing just as drew and ‘his group of friends’ step onto the curb from their car. the camera zooms in on your expression, catching the exact moment your character notices him.

you give him a look, one of intrigue, curiosity, a silent pull that makes drew’s character do a double take as he follows his friends inside. but as you turn and walk away, he hesitates. his friends don’t notice, but the audience is supposed to.

although the music is supposed to cut through, they’ll be able to see him say the words, “wait up for me, i’ll catch up.”

he stays behind. he follows you.

the cameras catch him walking past the frame, but in the behind-the-scenes footage, you’re already waiting for him off-camera. you’re standing just around the corner, out of sight, and the second he’s done with his take, he breaks into a grin, beaming as he jogs over to you.

“was that good?” he asks, a little breathless, still caught in the rush of the scene.

and off-camera, you laugh.

the next shot starts with a handheld camera capturing you inside a dimly lit bar, the neon glow from the signs reflecting off the polished counter. you’re perched on a stool, fingers curled around a glass, not drinking, just holding it for the scene, your expression unreadable as the camera focuses on you. the shot lasts for only a moment before it abruptly cuts away.

to: drew’s micro interview.

he’s leaned back in his chair, relaxed, but there’s a knowing glint in his eyes, something playful lurking beneath his words. “she made me flustered super easily, yeah,” he confesses, mouth curving into a smirk as he glances off-camera toward your friend conducting the interviews. “she just has that effect to her.”

to: the first night scene.

this time, the energy is entirely different. the camera moves with purpose, following drew as he catches up to you, his hand grasping your arm, tugging you into another alleyway. the moment is fast, urgent, his body pressing yours up against the cool brick wall, his lips finding yours without hesitation.

the camera doesn’t linger on the kiss itself. instead, it captures the details, like the way drew’s fingers tighten around the fabric of your clothes, the way your hand slips into the back of his hair, curling at the nape of his neck. the shot pans downward, exposing the closeness between your bodies, the breathlessness of it all, before the scene suddenly fades.

you’re sitting up straighter this time in your interview immediately after the clip, legs crossed, hands in your lap, but there’s a mischievous glint in your eyes. your tongue presses against your top teeth as you chuckle, fully aware of what you’ve just filmed. you don’t say much, but the knowing look on your face says enough.

the final shot of this segment shows you and drew after the director calls cut, the tension immediately breaking as laughter spills between you. you pull away first, eyes bright as you turn toward the monitors, eager to check the footage.

drew, still lingering in place, rubs his bottom lip with his thumb, watching you for a beat before finally trailing after you, taking his time.

the next shot follows your character, leading drew by the hand, weaving through the streetlights, your destination clear in your mind, and you toss him the car keys without hesitation. drew catches them, glancing between you and the keys in his hand, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face. the trust is unexpected, almost daring. but after a brief hesitation, he gives in, climbing into the driver’s seat while you swing into the passenger side, watching him with a smirk.

the screen quickly shifts to behind-the-scenes footage—handheld, slightly shaky, like a friend capturing the moment on their phone. you lean halfway out of the car window, hair tousled from the wind. your voice is light, playful, as you drag out the words dramatically, “we’ve been filming for the last six hours! i wanna go home.”

you make a face at the camera, and off-screen laughter follows. just as the camera pans back toward the car, drew reappears, slipping into the driver’s seat after what was clearly a break. he clocks the camera almost immediately, smiling as he watches you slide back inside, adjusting in your seat like you’re preparing for another take.

to: the car scene.

you're in the passenger seat, lip-syncing the lyrics, the camera catching you. your expression shifts between something teasing and something more heated, fingers toying with the hem of your dress as drew grips the wheel beside you.

then, another interview clip overlays the scene. you sit comfortably, your grin almost mischievous as you speak, “i wanted this music video to be very, very horny. like, so horny but also so fun, and freeing too.”

you pause, laughing as you push your hair back, “i really wanted to capture that feeling of instant attraction. like, that moment when you lock eyes with someone across the room and just know something’s about to happen. the whole video is about chasing that rush, that tension of being drawn to someone you shouldn’t want but not being able to stop yourself.”

“so, yeah. i wanted it to feel intense, a little dangerous, a little intoxicating . . . like a night you’ll never forget, even if it only lasts ‘til sunrise.”

it cuts to a different segment of the micro interview. you’re sitting casually, your thumb nail between your teeth as you listen to your friend. the vibe is lighthearted, almost too laid-back, until your friend says, “you should call him if you win that grammy.”

you freeze for a second, eyes widening slightly, then burst out laughing. sitting up straighter, you give her a look, almost like she’s lost their mind, “are you serious?”

the final shot in the behind-the-scenes video captures you dramatically collapsing onto the mock-bedroom set, letting out an exaggerated groan as you flop onto the bed, completely wiped from weeks of filming. you’re on your back, hair splayed out around you like a halo, eyes half-closed as the exhaustion hits you full force.

drew, on the other hand, leans back against the headboard, legs sprawled out casually as if he could take on another round of filming, but still, his hand reaches out, and you take it without hesitation. your hands clasp in a silent victory, both of you relishing in the fact that you’ve wrapped up the last take of the day.

“is that it?” you ask, glancing at the crew who are already packing up, and when they confirm it, a smile breaks across your face. you raise a fist in the air, a mock victory pose, causing a few of the crew members to chuckle behind the camera.

the camera cuts back to you, but just a few minutes later, still lounging on the bed with drew, who’s now looking at you with that signature grin of his. you sit up, stretching your arms over your head, and your voice is light as you ask, “was that fun?” you’re genuinely checking in, making sure drew’s feeling good after all the intense shots.

drew pauses for a beat, then lets out a little laugh, clearly still feeling the buzz from the shoot. “i had . . . a blast,” he says, but there’s something about the way he says it, maybe it’s the glint in his eyes or the slight inflection in his voice, that makes you burst out laughing.

you start to get up from the bed, your laugh still lingering in the air as you move out of the frame. the camera stays on drew as he watches you go, looking like he’s still processing the day. just as you move out of view, someone walks in from the side to start cleaning up the set, but drew doesn’t miss a beat.

“i’m being so honest right now, dude,” he says, his grin turning playful, and you hear the laughter behind the camera as they capture this moment.

after the music video shoot wraps, you and drew keep in touch. with the release of the video just around the corner, your team suggests posting a teaser to build hype on social media. it’s the perfect opportunity, so you agree.

another mini shoot is set up for the teaser. drew and his team arrive, and even though this shoot is way more relaxed than the last one, the excitement is still palpable. you’re going to film a short, tantalizing snippet.

the plan is for the camera to follow your feet clicking against the floor as you walk down a hallway, but your face won’t be seen. you stop in front of a door and knock before the cameras on you now.

the moment the door opens, your smile is real as you grab his hand. you pull him with you down the hall, and the camera focuses on the back of his head, leaving fans to wonder who he is. as you pass the wall, the words of the song title come to life to tease which song its for.

as soon as the video drops, the internet blows up. fans can’t stop guessing who your mystery man is.

‘ its drew isnt it ’

‘ PLEASE TELL ME THATS WHO I RHKNK IT IS ’

‘ y/n y/l/n u did NOT. ’

others speculate wildly, throwing out all kinds of guesses. you both meet up to hang out during the lead-up to your album release, laughing about the crazy theories online. some fans are dead sure it’s him, while others debate who it could be. the excitement only grows, and you secretly enjoy the fun of keeping them guessing.

but everything falls into place when you win that grammy. it’s the culmination of everything you’ve worked so hard for, and as the announcement echoes through the room, you’re overwhelmed with emotions. you honestly didn’t expect this, especially as a first-timer. they are hard to come by, and you’re honestly convinced this is going to be your one and only.

the wave of emotion hits you as you hug your loved ones, the tears welling up in your eyes. you quickly pat under your eyes with your fingers, trying to compose yourself as you walk toward the stage. all eyes are on you, and the spotlight is so bright you almost can’t bear to look directly at it.

you hold the grammy in your hands, trying to keep your composure as you deliver the half-planned speech you’d scribbled down earlier. it’s all so surreal.

“god, i actually thought i was about to pass out when they said my name,” you admit, and the audience of familiar faces laughs.

“i just can’t believe i’m standing here right now, receiving this. i have poured my heart into this album, into my music, and i never imagined it would lead me here. to my team and family, you’re the reason this dream is even possible. to my fans, thank you for making this journey so worth it. this award is for us. i love you all, and i’ll keep making music as long as you’ll keep listening. thank you all so much.”

eventually you’re off the stage and sitting at your table, still processing everything that's just happened. there are few who still congratulate you from their seats around you. your friend, sitting beside you, gives you a look, the kind that says it all. you know what to do.

you hesitate. was she serious about what she said before about if you won? you roll your eyes, but you can’t ignore the pull of it. you grab your phone and turn it on briefly, waiting for an appropriate moment. your thumb hovers over the keyboard for a moment before you type out the message to drew:

hey. can i call u tonight?

a/n: such an abrupt ending LOL but i have to cut it off here bc i have my first day of my new class tmr n im supposed to get up in 2 hours 💔 ILL REWRITE THIS OR DO A PART 2 IF I REREAD THIS LATER N NOT LIKE IT

[thecoochiefairy]

━━ 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦 𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑒𝑠 .ᐟ toji.

warnings 𑄽𑄺 21.5K pregnancy kink, a LOT of dialogue ngl, third person pov, black woman, vaginal penetration, rough sex, hair pulling, squirting, creaming, oral [f] [m], choking, daddy kink, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, dad! toji, sweet! toji, talks of self-image, aggressive toji, daddy toji, baby megumi, minors aren’t welcome!

song to play while listening; 𝑠𝑛𝑜𝑜𝑧𝑒 ; 𝑆𝑍𝐴

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ i don’t wanna get all self deprecating, this didn’t feel like my best work, but this is the second part to the first fic ever wrote, and i missed my seioni, toji + megumi pairing. it’s kinda long. sorry. i had to. enjoy, love you. 🫶🏽

AN INTERNAL THUMPING DRONES ALONG HER EARS AS HER SLENDER EYES GLANCE UP AT THE SCREEN. The gel along her stretched belly is cold against her skin, the hand of the doctor continuing to rub gently as she stared at the life growing inside of her. 

Her mind had been everywhere to say the least. This was the first time she’d been to an appointment by herself, having her friends hold a trembling hand as she got news about the journey of her pregnancy. She was trying to keep her attention along the doctor's voice as her anxieties whipped around her body like a tornado. But as the nurse walked in with a forced smile, purposely flipping the paper over into the doctor's hand, her attentiveness peaked. 

Her heart could’ve dropped as the same nurse gave her a rub to the shoulder, thoughts immediately going to the worst. Those worries pulled all together in preparation for an anxiety attack as the doctor placed his glasses down to look along the words, giving a hum at the results. 

Although she wanted to scream, she pulled it together and filled the silence within the room as she politely asked, “Uh…is something wrong, Doctor?”

The doctor glances up at her, giving a small smile to reassure her with a shake to his head, “No, nothing’s wrong, Seioni. The baby is fine as well,” he pats her thigh, seeing as that causes her to release the breath she’d been holding before he continues, “The only… hiccup would be that your blood pressure seems to be higher than normal.”

“Oh,” she says softly, “I didn’t realize.”

What was she supposed to say? She felt like she was in trouble, unsure of how to process that information. She hadn’t been feeling too bad—a couple of headaches here and there—she figured it was just her lack of eating. 

The doctor hums as he glances back at the paper, “How have you been feeling lately? How has the pregnancy been on you so far?” He asks, looking back at her.

“Good! I mean—as good as I can be,” she watches as the nurse comes to wipe her stomach, softly thanking her as she sits up. She knew that she might not have been telling the entire truth, but this also wasn’t a therapy session. Rubbing her belly had become a nail-biting replacement, seeing as the doctor then asks, “Do you still own your tattoo shop?” 

“Yeah, but I don’t work anymore. My fiancè takes care of everything, but for the most part the shop runs itself,” she briefly explains. 

The doctor nods understandingly. This still wasn’t a therapy session, but being her primary doctor and having that relationship with her, he couldn’t help but pry just a bit. 

 He hums, “That’s good to hear…” glancing at the ultrasound before looking back at her, “How has your home life been? How is your fiancé?”

That was the burning question. Officially being in a relationship with Toji taught her what it was like to be with a man, it scared her to open herself up to someone in a way she hadn’t in years. Not only did she never expect herself to actually end up with him, she damn sure didn’t expect to become a maternal figure to his son—Megumi—who was now freshly two-years old, hopping along for the ride of the relationship between his father and ‘Oni’’ as he’d call her. They all experienced a love between one another that blossomed as months passed—but that didn’t mean it didn’t have its…faults. 

Seioni sighed, tracing her fingers lightly against her belly before she replied, “My fiancé has a son, he just turned two. We’ve been potty training him and it’s been…a mess, no pun intended,” she lightly giggles, “He fusses a lot now since we’re trying to get him off of his pacifier, and he has trouble sleeping. I’ve also been trying to plan a wedding and baby shower by myself because my fiancè wants to make sure I have everything my way. On top of that I feel like a beluga whale, I can’t keep food down because I vomit at certain smells since my nostrils are similar to a dog now—do you know what dirt smells like? Seriously, I mean, have you smelled it? It's awful—but uh—As far as me and my fiancè, he’s been working a lot so…I don’t see much of him at times,” she realizes as everything sounds overwhelming, muttering a soft, “Sorry.”

The doctor gave a sympathetic look, understanding her situation. He sighs before he speaks again, giving a gentle smile to her, “You have a lot on your plate. You know what you’re experiencing are symptoms of stress, correct? That’s what’s causing your high blood pressure.”

Seioni knew that she could be a bit neurotic, but she didn’t realize that these things were genuinely putting her in a state of distress. Megumi’s growing pains, Toji’s lack of interest within the wedding and baby shower, and their lack of intimacy whether it was in the bedroom or out of it. Maybe she just needed some dick—or a box of tissues. 

“What does your husband do for work?” 

She blinks, not ever having an answer for that question. She then convinced herself, “Uh—contractor. Yup, contractor.” 

“Maybe you should suggest for him to take some time off of work then. But regardless, this is a beautiful situation. You have a baby girl coming, you're planning a baby shower, and your wedding will be soon, correct?” 

“Yes, I’m thinking Italy,” she nods, seeing as that makes the doctor warmly smile. 

She thinks to herself, this is a happy time. So why the hell did she feel so…mundane? 

She blinks, raising her eyes up to him as she nods, “I guess I didn’t realize I was stressing myself out that badly. Am I…harming my baby?” She worries, eyebrows furrowing as she lets out a deep breath.

“No, no. You’re not harming your baby in any way. I’m just worried for you. Both mentally and physically.” He reassured her, “It seems your blood pressure is fine now and everything else is normal. You just need to make sure you don’t stress yourself out anymore as your pregnancy progresses. Let me ask, are you and your fiancè intimate?”

She raises her eyes, feeling her face go lightly warm as she repeats, “Intimate as in…sex? Is that really okay during pregnancy?”

He gave a small laugh, a little flustered that it was even a question as he soothes, “Yes, dear. It’s perfectly fine, healthy for you and the baby. It also increases the production of oxytocin—“ he pauses as he sees her face fill with confusion before he explains, “The ‘love’ hormone, essentially. It reduces pregnant stress, improves sleep, and temporarily masks aches and pains. Sex, bonding, and an increase in endorphins help a pregnant woman sleep better to combat exhaustion and other griping pregnancy symptoms.” 

When he sees that she still has a hesitation along her face, he gives her a gentle touch along her shoulder as he says, “No stressing, okay? How about I prescribe you some Lexapro? You can take them as needed, not anything you have to worry about fitting into your schedule.”

Seioni immediately knew that if Toji wasn’t such a damn workaholic, he’d be under her like a baby attached to a nipple—already having a small disagreement about her taking anything that wasn’t her prenatals. He’d dealt with a pregnant woman before, wanting to make sure she was as healthy as possible. But shit, he didn’t know everything, did he?

“…I guess it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have. I’d just be worried if taking anything other than my prenatal might be harmful,” she tells him honestly.

He nods, understanding her concern. He sits down on a stool after he pulls it near her before breaking down, “That’s normal. Let me reassure you that Lexapro— a SSRI—Selective-serotonin-reuptake inhibitor— is safe for both pregnant women as well as their babies. It’s been shown that only 1% of the medication is passed on to the fetus during delivery, and that is an extremely small percentage. It’s deemed completely safe.”

She lets out a deep breath, realizing that she’s once again stressing herself out about things that don’t have to be overwhelming to her. This should’ve been the time where she rested, being seven months pregnant made her feel like she was going to explode. 

She then nods her head as she exhales, “Thank you so much, doctor. Me and my little boo boo feel so blessed to have you,” she gives him a soft smile, rubbing her belly happily.

 “It’s my pleasure. You’ be sure to take care of yourself, okay?” He teased her a little, standing back up on his feet, “I’ll call that prescription in and the pharmacy should have it ready for you by the time you get there,” As he goes to help her off the table, he adds on, “Oh, and your fiancé should be expecting a call from me as well.”

“Uh, why? If you don’t mind me asking?” She places her hand along the bottom of her stomach, letting out a tired breath as she pulls herself up to stand.

The doctor chuckled lightly as he saw the small struggle and helped her stand, saying, “It’s nothing worrisome. Just gonna let him know about your prescription,” He tells her, “He’ll need to know about your blood pressure as well.”

Shit. She was hoping that she could at least talk to him about the prescription first, knowing that when he meant something, he meant it. She pulls her smile lines up to hold a happy expression on her face, nodding as she repeats, “Yeah, of course. Thank you again.” 

The moment she leaves the doctors office, she soaks in his words, taking them into consideration. This should’ve been the happiest time for her. The only stress should have been picking out names, choosing colors for her bridesmaids dresses, and creating a registry for the perfect gifts. Another issue she’d been facing was the insecurities she felt within her own body changing. Her nose was wider than usual, her hips were now actually child bearing, and her belly walked in the room before she did. What if she wasn’t attractive anymore? 

On the opposite end, Toji drowned in her scent, wanting to eat her alive each time he saw her—if only she knew that. She wasn’t sure why her face was warm as she clutched the olive green baby doll dress, standing within Victoria Secret as the cashier rudely eyed her belly more than she needed to. 

“‘Fuck are you looking at?” She said before she thought about it, the cashier quickly dropped her eyes back to the lingerie as she shoved it into the bag. 

Finally making her way back home, she thanks the babysitter as she sends her off for the rest of the day. She thinks to herself as she’s within the kitchen taking out the steak that she plans to cook, realizing these issues wouldn’t feel as big if she had Toji’s full support. 

It's not that he wasn’t trying to help. He just wanted everything her way, she was his princess. He assumed that letting her handle these tasks would keep her busy since she complained about not working. She hoped that once Megumi went to bed, she could have some…alone time with Toji. But as she was now sat across from Megumi who refused to pee in the toilet, her track of time was off, and she wasn’t sure if her mission would be a success. She sat on the phone with her mom, listening to her complain about her older brother’s constant circle of women he presented to their father and aunt.  Even through her amusement, she couldn’t help that she deeply missed them all, although they could sometimes be…something. 

“Your stupid-ass-big-headed ass brother has brought the second girl over here this week, talking about ‘This the one for real Ma’,’ boy, please. And the girls be’ cute, too! If only they had a brain. I tell them to run! Shoes off! Barefoot! Why didn’t you just let me ship him off to your place and move into your old condo?”

“Because he would have to pay rent, which would require him to have a job,” she emphasizes, “You let Nova eat, sleep and shit in your house for free. If you gave his’ ass responsibility he’d explode.”

“What you’ tryna say, lil’ girl? Don’t make me smack you through this phone.”

“Hitting a pregnant woman? Have some decorum,” she chuckles, “But you know exactly what I’m saying, momma. That’s your pride and joy, you need to take him off the nipple and kick him out, have him shack up with his thousands of bitches. I love my brother to death, but he can’t be living under you his whole life.”

“How about you worry about the baby in your belly and the one in front of you who refuses to pee?”

Her eyes immediately met with the familiar gray ones she saw within her fiancé’s. His fat olive cheeks are currently a tint of red as his arms cross below him, dark hair spruced all around his head as he frowned across from her, sitting on his teddy bear decorated makeshift toilet. 

“Have you been taking the fish oil pills I sent?”  her mother asks.

Seioni frowns, “Yuck. Everything except those. I can barely keep food down, do you want me to vomit?” 

She then turns her head back towards Megumi as she sighs, “C’mon, Sweetface. You said ‘Oni, pee!’ earlier.”

Another issue that they faced, with Megumi being two, in comparison to other children there was a…slowness to his ability to speak. They thought he’d be farther in his journey, understanding more than he could reply. But it wasn’t an end of the world issue. It was something that was brought up in conversation when it came to Toji’s ability to teach him, but that conversation quickly ended. One thing everyone knew—Toji didn’t play about his child. 

Megumi shakes his, saying, “No, no, no!” as he wiggles his way from the toilet. 

Her mother hears their little argument as she asks, “Meg’ giving you a hard time with potty training again?” 

“As always,” Seioni sighs. 

“How about you give him treats for it?” 

Seioni frowns, “Jesus, he’s not a dog, momma. And I don’t want him thinking that the only way you accomplish things is immediately receiving an award for them.” 

She sighs as she looks at Megumi, “I wish you were here, mommy. You had me and Nova potty trained before we were even counting. How’s Dad? And Aunt Celeste?”

Her mother heard the longing tone of her daughter’s words and immediately sympathized. Her daughter always had a close relationship with her family, so it was expected for her to miss them. 

“Your father’s fine. He’s in the backyard tending to the garden like he says he’s going to do every summer,” she replied, slightly amused by her over-the-top husband, “And Celeste is somewhere in her room caked-up on the phone with her many boyfriends. Probably where Nova’s slutty ass gets it from.” 

Seioni laughs lightly as she smiles, just envisioning her father out in the garden every summer with a ridiculous sunhat and shorts, a gardening shovel in his hand as the sweat glistens on his body. She also envisioned her aunt, boisterous laugh as she twirled her hair to any man’s attention. This conversation was only aiding her home-sickness, she felt her stomach beginning to ache.

She brings her eyes back to Megumi, staring over him as he sits silently along the toilet. She then says to him, “Megumi, pee?” 

Megumi gives a pout, his chin quivering as he mutters out, “No-potty!” his little hands curling up into fists. He refused to use the toilet, and only wanted to use his pull-ups. 

Seioni huffs, running her hand through her hair, “Oh my hell, just pee, Megumi,” she told him as her mother laughed through the call.

“Eat-eat!” He then soundlessly calls out. 

Seioni raises an eyebrow as she crosses her arms, “No eat-eat, Megumi doesn’t want to pee!”

“He sounds just like his father. Stubborn as hell,” her mother laughs as she hears her daughter and grandchild from the phone. 

Seioni sighs as she rolls her eyes, but with a slight laugh as she agrees, “Yeah, exactly like his father…” She sighs once again before saying, “Megumi, you get no food until you pee!” She told him.

“Does he do this all the time?”

“Girl, yes. He only listens to Toji. Probably cause’ he’s scary. But he wanna take advantage of his ‘Oni’,” Seioni rolls her eyes. 

Megumi’s eyes were wide as a look of horror came across his face. He refused to pee, but he also wanted to eat. He’d only just recently gotten rid of his bottles and had been eating actual, solid food now. 

He began to pout heavily, tears slowly gathering in his eyes before he replied with a quiet, “Oni’, Hungry.” as he held his belly, as if to further his point.

Although she tried to get better with not allowing his cries to defeat her, she couldn’t help but soften at that olive toned face going red in the cheeks, swelling as his doe eyes dropped tears. 

She then muttered into the phone, “Fuckin’ hell, Momma, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Seioni’s mother chuckles over the line, hearing the annoyance in her daughter’s voice. “Okay,” she replies, “You better make sure Toji’s big headed ass is sitting with Megumi by the toilet the minute he gets home, you shouldn’t be the only one doing this. You acting like more of a parent then he is!”

“Mom, please don’t start,” Seioni sighs, rolling her eyes as that was probably the twentieth time her mother told her that, “Goodbye, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby,” her mother replies as if she didn’t just throw shade at her fiancè, “Talk to you later. Bye, Megumi.”

The sound of her mom’s soft voice nearly makes her want to begin crying like Megumi, missing the warmth that she brings around her. She could be a pain in the ass at times—especially when it came to her feelings about Toji’s constant absence as of recently—but that was her mom regardless. 

Megumi’s attention is pulled away from his tears as he hears her voice through the phone, calling out a small, “Bye, Bye” before Seioni hangs up the call.

Seoni places the phone down, raising her arms as she sighs, “C’mon. Oni’ is sorry, okay? Just need you to pee without your diaper one of these days.”

Megumi slowly lifted himself up from the toilet and pouted more as he muttered, “No potty,” he wasn’t going to give in to her just yet.

She had her own transgressions with the fact that Megumi had a hard time listening to her when it came to potty-training, and it was even more frustrating that the only person he listened to at times was his father. She loved Megumi like he was her own, but she knew that her not actually being his mother might’ve clued into their issues. 

“Eat-eat?” She raises an eyebrow, pulling his pamper up along his hips as she kisses him against his tear filled cheek, standing with a groan as she places him along the side of her hip.

“Eat-eat,” Megumi nodded heavily. 

His little hands clutched along her shirt as he began to sob softly, his pouts becoming more intense. His face began to become more red as tears fell more down his cheeks, staining a part of her shirt.

Seoni let out a sigh—this was gonna be a long night. 

She was halfway successful with her mission of cooking for Toji before he got home, making a wagyu steak with garlic buttered mash potatoes, only able to make a small salad for herself as she couldn’t handle anything too heavy on her stomach. Another thing she couldn’t stop crying about, nearly vomiting anything heavier than salads, sandwiches or liquids. She wasn’t sure what time he was coming home tonight, knowing that his job delved within ‘mafia/criminal’ activity, but never asking what he exactly did, just hoping he got home safely in the process. 

Once she fed Megumi and got him to finally go to sleep, she took the final step in her plans. She took a long shower, shaved her entire body, and lathered herself with baby oil and vanilla scented perfume. 

But as she stood in the baby doll dress, her breast spilled out the sides of the lace fabric, her round belly large  under the sheer gown—all of her insecurities came flooding in the warmth of her cheeks. She felt…unattractive.  

Once she changed into one of Toji’s oversized jerseys, she spent the next hour crying her eyes out, seated on the sofa as she bored into old pictures of herself. She cried so hard that she ended up knocking out, dozing off along the pillows unknowingly that she never took into account how late Toji finally came home. 

He was always terrible at entering the house. Heavy boots thumped along the floor, a low curse echoing along the walls as he stepped on one of Megumi’s toys trying to come inside. Due to her being a light sleeper, Seioni’s eyes slowly blank open, reflexively holding her belly as she looks at her fiancè. Toned arms, muscles bulging through his shirt as that dragon tattoo trailed around his left hand, now crawling under his shoulder and down his back. Dark hair and matching furrowed eyebrows frowned as he appeared behind the door, scarred lip twitching as his eyes fell over her figure. 

Seeing this man was like seeing him for the first time. Its like he’d almost gotten bigger in height and broadness, almost having to slouch for her consideration. Steel gray eyes were deadly, glares and stoic appearance making her want to melt within a constant.  A small scowl plays along his mouth—per usual—eyes flickering from the toy he just stepped on to the woman sleeping on the couch, journal nearly falling from her grasp as she begins to wake up. 

As soon as his eyes met hers though, his heart warmed a bit, relaxing slightly as his deep voice gruffly called, “Baby... What are you doing sleeping on the couch? You’re supposed to be in bed.” 

He takes his leather jacket off and slings it over the table, pausing as he picks it back up to hang along the coat rack by the door before Seioni can choke him out about it. He's already making his way over to her flawlessly beautiful figure, dark hair sticking along her toffee face as she adjusted to reawakening, feeling as her legs are being gently pulled over his lap. 

Her voice is soft and immensely quiet, “I…dozed off, uh…writing baby names. Remembering what the doctor told me,” she runs her fingers through her dark hair as she sighs, “Hi, Daddy.”

He gives a rumbling chuckle as he glances down at the journal, looking at her words before he glances back up to her, pulling her more onto his lap instead, “Hey, Mama,” he muttered back, his large hand lightly resting against her belly. 

“You’re pushing yourself too hard, aren’t you?” 

“Today was by default. Megumi gave me the blues trying to potty train him again, but I did end up making dinner for you,” she wraps her arms around his neck, feeling the warmth of his palms on her hips.

Toji lets out a small huff, “‘Boy is just as hard headed as I am, you know that. You’ll tire yourself out more trying to get him to do something he doesn’t want to do.” He gently pulled her closer, her legs on either side of his lap, wrapping an arm around her hips. 

“What’d you make? I’m starving,” he grunted out, his hand rubbing her hip, massaging it lightly.

“Wagyu steak and garlic mash potatoes, how Muffin likes it,” she playfully rolls her eyes, giggling as she feels his palm lightly smack along her ass from the nickname.

In regular fashion, he quickly grumbles, “I keep telling your ass I’m not your damn Muffin.” 

He then chuckled, “Smartass, but you know me so goddamn well, beautiful,” he teased nonetheless, giving her a grin as his hand rested comfortably along her hips. 

“Just like I know that you like being my Muffin, hm?” 

“Stop talking to me. Anyways, you know if you’re going to go through the effort of cooking, I need to go through the effort to reward you afterwards,” he travels his hand upward as he digs his fingers into her hair to clutch her forward, lips sucking the skin of her neck into his mouth. 

It made her sigh breathlessly, her face warm as a small giggle pulled from her lips, “Don’t I get a reward for just being the love of your life?”

He chuckled as he pulled away from her neck, his lips just centimeters away from hers as he told her, “It never ends with you, does it, woman? Always needing more from me.”

The constant realization with their lack of intimacy hits her again, a chill coursing down Seioni’s spine at the thought. But another chill came as she remembered not feeling as attractive as she usually did. She can tell that Toji feels her body tense, hoping he doesn’t press her reaction—she really didn’t want to end the night off in an argument about her own self conflicts. 

She nearly sighs in appreciation as he slows his movements down, hearing as he asks, “How was the doctor?” 

She raises her eyes as she squints, “The doctor called you today, Fushiguro. I’m assuming you missed it due to work.”

Toji nearly groaned at the news of her saying that the doctor called. He’d meant to answer them, but as of recently work had been busier. 

“Damn it, I knew I forgot something.” He muttered out, lightly pinching his nose, “What did they call about?”

“He wanted to tell you about my high blood pressure,” she lightly trails her finger along his arm, the dragon along the veined skin shining under the living room light.

His head raised up, “What’s causing you to have high blood pressure?” 

“He said I could just be stressing myself out, which—I know I am. He prescribed me Lexapro, I think I might try it out for a couple of days, see how it makes me feel.” 

She can practically feel the frown on his face before she sees it, keeping her eyes away from him as she attempts to move herself off of his lap. Key word, attempted. 

“You’re not taking those.”

She raises her eyebrows, “The doctor told me they were safe, Toji. I don’t think he’d give me anything if he knew I couldn’t take it.”

“You think I give a fuck about what the doctor said?” 

She rolls her eyes, not ready to go back and forth with him as his arm tightens around her hips, his fingers digging a bit harder into her curves as he speaks, “If it’s not a damn prenatal, I don’t want you taking anything else. I’m not risking shit happening to you. There’s better ways to control your blood pressure.”

“Like what? Not stressing myself? That’s easier said than done. Who else wouldn’t be stressed if they had a baby in their terrible twos, a baby in their belly—then planning a wedding and baby shower all at once?” She raises an eyebrow.

“What the fuck does that have to do with you taking some dumbass shit like Lexapro? You can do all of that without medication, Seioni.” 

“Oh bite me,” she snarls, “Don’t go all government on me. You still haven’t answered my question.”

“These are issues that can be easily resolved. I’m waiting for your point.”

“Easily resolved?” Her hand quickly latches to pull his arm off of her, his hand becoming more firm as he holds onto her before his mouth fires off, “Seioni. Don’t fuckin’ play with me right now, move your hand.” 

“Boy, fuck off! Who the hell are you to tell me what I can’t take? My father?”

“Boy?” He raises his own eyebrow, full lips and scar twitching in her defiance. 

When she’s finally able to get him to loosen his grip,  she tries to hide her grunt as she has to hold her back and belly all at once to properly stand, struggling as she does so before successfully coming off of his lap. 

The minute she began getting up, his hands went immediately to her hips to hold her in his lap, a very deep frown on his face as he spoke in a dark tone, “Don’t give me that bullshit, woman. I’m your goddamn husband, that’s why I’m saying it—And you can’t even get up to stand by yourself, you can barely even move without grunting in pain, sit the hell down.”

“I can do stuff on my own!” She exclaims, crossing her arms, “Don’t act like I’m helpless, bastard. I’m just saying that maybe Lexapro wouldn’t make me so neurotic.”

“I’m not saying you’re helpless. I’m just saying that your body is not the same as it was before you were pregnant,” he grumbled back, the vein in his forehead throbbing as he spoke. He looked directly down at her arms, seeing how she crossed them across her chest as he continued, “We don’t need anymore side effects happening to you or the baby because you’re wanting some antidepressant. You don’t need those, you need to sit your ass down and take a damn break. This is why your blood pressure is high.”

“Well how about you make me less stressed by helping me out? You wanna be tied up in your stupid ass job all the time, how wouldn’t I be stressed?” She narrows her eyes.

There it is, the argument he’d been avoiding this entire time. He knew that she was upset about the time he’d been spending at work, but work was important to him. He wanted to be able to take care of her and Megumi in more ways than imagined. 

“Don’t act like I just work for shits and fuckin’ giggles.”

“Don’t make me feel like I’m supposed to be satisfied with that ! I’m asking you to at least seem interested when I talk to you about these things. Wedding, baby shower, baby names! Anytime I bring it up you blow me off about it—using the excuse that you just want to make sure I do everything I want for both events, but in reality you just don’t wanna do shit for them!” She clocks him, swatting his arms away in an attempt to touch her.

The vein in his forehead turned into a headache as she continued speaking, her words hitting at his pride. He was beginning to get incredibly pissed as she continued.

“I don’t want to do anything for it because those things aren’t about me, it’s about you and the baby. What kind of man do you think I would be if I didn’t allow you to plan your own gender reveal, your own baby shower, your own wedding, your own goddamn baby gifts? I don’t do anything to help but I’m giving you the reigns here.”

“Well maybe I’d like my fiancè to seem slightly excited about these events, to just give me some type of showing that you care!”

“You’re really doing this right now?” He blinks, “You know I care. If I didn’t I wouldn’t give a fuck about all this stupid-girly shit,” he blows a breath, sucking his teeth, “Shit. Maybe you do need the goddamn Lexapro.” 

Similar to Megumi, another newfound part of her pregnancy was the way that she could instantly cry on cue, almost like a baby. To hear his words instantly hurt her feelings. 

She didn’t mean to give the reaction she did, but everything began hitting her all at once. His words, the doctor's words, her own words. A pout came to her lips, her eyes welling with tears as she pressed her hands to her face, “I just feel so …overwhelmed.”

The minute she began to cry, Toji tensed immediately. He absolutely hated it when she cried, and her pregnancy definitely didn't help him on that end at all. He was about to respond but another sniffle came from her, and then followed by another, and another, he groaned.

"Oh jesus... Stop crying, please, you know I hate this shit..." he grumbled softly, his large hands lightly rubbing at her hips to try and soothe her.

That made her full on sob, her face red as her cheeks swelled, her hands over her face as she cried, “I c—can’t do this alone. I miss my family, I wish they were here to help me with these things. Megumi is giving me a hard time, I—I can’t keep any food down, I can’t fit any of my clothes, I feel like a fucking ugly fat whale.”

He could feel how his shirt got damp, tears staining it from her crying, but he couldn’t care less as he held her against him. Despite the pregnancy, she still felt so small in his grip, and it reassured him that although his words could be mean, he was always there to comfort her.

His head laid against the top of her head as he muttered softly, “You're not alone. You have me, okay? You have me—your…Muffin,” he almost vomited at his words, “ And Meggie, we’re here. You're not alone, babydoll.”

“But you’re always workinggg,” she sobs, hiding her face within his chest as she cries even harder, nearly unable to breath as tears drop heavily from her face.

“Baby, you gotta calm down.”

He tried soothing her as his hand began gently trying to brush away some of the tears falling down her face. Her sobbing was beginning to worry him, she was crying too damn hard. 

“I know you’re upset about the amount of time I’ve been working but—baby, I’m just tryna’ handle shit for us,” he was trying to rationalize with her, but it was very difficult to do so when she was crying.

“M—Maybe y—you just don’t want me or this baby,” she trembles.

Toji quickly grips her face, pulling her tear streaked cheeks to stare up at him as he pulls her forward, “Cut this shit out,” a firm, dark tone, “I want you more than anything with this baby. Quit saying bullshit like that. I think you’re the prettiest, Oni’. You’re lucky I can’t fuck the shit out of you right now.” 

She takes another deep breath, unable to stop herself from crying. The waterworks flowed, keeping her face in her hands as she quivered, “‘M sorry. I’m just so scared. I can’t even get Megumi to pee in the toilet. How am I gonna be a good mother? W—what if I can’t do this?” more tears appear along her face, nearly having to catch her breath from her tearful attack.

He could feel the way she was shaking and quivering from crying, and it only continued to make him feel guilty. Her words hurt, but it hurt even more when she began doubting herself.

“You’re going to be a great mom,” he muttered with an assurance, his hand lightly moving across her face, trying to brush away the tears. “Megumi’s just stubborn, baby. You’ll be able to get him eventually, it just takes time. 

You’re doing great. You’re doing just fine, okay?”

His words make her feel slightly better. She knew that she was doing better than most, and maybe being so critical was another cause of her stress. She knew she was going to be the best mother she could be, she just had to believe that. Especially with Toji’s support. She wraps her arms around his shoulders as she shoves her face within his neck, sniffling as she tries to control her breathing. 

She then muffled, “I—I love you.”

He placed his chin along the top of her head, his hand gently clutching at the back of her hair. “I love you too, beautiful. I love you so damn much.”

“Even when I’m a crying mess?” She mutters, feeling the grumble of his chuckle along her body.

“Even when you’re a complete mess, I still love you. You’re still my gorgeous, loveable mess, baby,” he reassured, placing a gentle kiss along the top of her head, “I meant what I said. You’ in my jersey is gonna get you fucked up,” he grunts, the arousement of this man never failing.

She rolls her eyes against his damp shirt, lightly swatting his arm as she utters, “Hush.”

The comfort and reassurance of this man was like no other— she couldn’t ask for a better upcoming husband. Through all of that, she feels her body becoming tired again after the waterworks, laying herself deeper into him as she lets a moment of silence go between them. Despite their disagreements, she loved him endlessly. 

“Baby?” She asks softly. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I have some of your steak?” 

“Is it gonna make you vomit and then cry after you vomit?”

“…Yes.” 

“Then no.” 

                     ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. 𐦍༘⋆ ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. 𐦍༘⋆

AS A COUPLE OF WEEKS HAD PASSED, Seioni had  come to the revelation that the only thing she’d do from now on was enjoy this pregnancy. With that, she requested instead of taking Lexapro to receive something for her morning sickness. Toji’s stubbornness subsided at the thought of her being able to eat, to which he painfully agreed on the medication.

All this man wanted to do was make his woman happy. He wanted to withhold the surprise he had for her and Megumi, but knowing that not allowing his fiancè to do her ‘girly-shit’ in preparation for an upcoming vacation to Maui, Hawaii, she’d go into labor if she couldn’t buy a whole new wardrobe.  

She was like a child when it came to her excitement—if only her fiancè and his son were as equally elated in her process. She enjoyed every single swipe of his card, outfits, getting her hair done, pampering herself in preparation to be along the beach. She dragged Toji and Megumi all around the mall with her, finding outfits for them as well—ignoring the looks shared between the son and father, impatient and only wanting to be curled up next to her at home. But as he watched her stare within the mirror as she tried on two-piece bikinis, not giving a damn about her round belly, shopping wasn’t as bad as he made it to be—he was now excited. 

The day finally came as they were at the bustling airport. Seioni pulled her bohemian braids behind her ear, more human hair than anything flowing in between the individuals as her brown skin was lightly russet within the face, her freckle’s almost making her look sun kissed. She wore a ballerina pink baby tee, matching yoga pants and her hello kitty sandals, trying to carry her own personal bag on her shoulder as she gave a polite nod to the airport worker after showing her passport. Toji could’ve nearly snatched that bag off of her shoulder, almost glaring at her for attempting to carry something as heavy as her bag. 

“I had it,” she said softly, rolling her eyes.

He grumbled, raising an eyebrow at her eye-roll as he shifted the strap along his shoulder, allowing her to walk in front of him. He was like a guard dog, ready to pounce at any moment as she spun around in her dream land.

“And you say I’m stubborn,” Toji mutters. 

She raises an eyebrow, “You’ talkin’ shit over there?” Taking Megumi’s small hand within hers, pulling him as he waddled down the line towards TSA. 

“Do you want me to repeat myself in a louder tone?”

She shot daggers at him, eyebrows frowning down as she nearly flung Megumi to turn towards him, “You know what, as a matter of fact, I do!” 

“You better waddle your ass to TSA and stop talking to me.” 

“I don’t wanna have to smack your ass in this damn airport, Fushiguro,” she glares.

“That’s even if you could get to me in time!” 

“Oh! You’re tryna’ be funny! How about I roll over to you?! Bastard!—“ 

“You better stop talking to that man like that, Seioni!” 

She halts. Her attitude is on high alert as she thinks—who the hell is talking to her and why did they know her name?

 Her body fully turns as she searches for the voice that becomes familiar the more it echoes in her mind. Her heart nearly falls in her ass as she sees the familiar smile that she holds within her own face, her mother standing on the other side of the airport as well as her father, brother and aunt.

 Her eyes go wide as she shockingly calls, “Momma?!” 

Her eyes turn to Toji, seeing the smile that suppresses within his face. He knew that she was having a hard time with this pregnancy, so he thought surprising her with her family joining them on the trip would make her smile. He knew she hadn’t seen them in a while due to them living in a different city. 

She releases Megumi’s hand as she takes off for them, Toji calling, “Oni’!” scared she would fall, watching as she waddles quickly over to them, gripping her mother into the tightest hug she could’ve given her. 

“Oh my god,” she cried, tears immediately coming down her face, “What are you— when did you—how are you guys here?” She cried, looking between all of her family members, unable to stop herself from the waterworks.

The minute she began crying, her mother was shushing her gently with a light laugh, “Oh no, no, don’t cry, babygirl. We just wanted to surprise you, since we know you’ve been having a hard time lately.”

Her mother was lightly rubbing her back as her father spoke up next, “Your fiancé told us that you could use some moral support right now, we were more than happy to come see you. He paid for our flights here and to Maui.” 

“You didn’t tell us your fiancè had all this damn munyun, sis,” her brother calls from behind, a smirk along his face.

She scrunches her nose at her brother as she fires, “Don’t be ghetto, act like you’ve been around some money before.” 

“Yo’ daddy!” Nova rebuttals. 

“Aye! I’m nowhere near broke!” Her father, Noel protests. 

“Did you pay for this trip, broke-boy?” Her mother playfully insights to her husband, crossing her arms with a raised eyebrow, “I recall you only buying a neck pillow for the flight.” 

“Saanaá, please. You bought a matching one!” 

“And did! Celeste bought a third!” She points out. 

“And did! In my business? Mind yours, anyways, he does seem to have heavy ass pockets. What he do’ for work?” The aunt playfully instigates, Toji and Seioni quickly replying in an exhale, “Contractor.” 

Toji’s instantly amused by her family dynamic. He was unable to do anything but chuckle as she turns towards him, “You really did this?” Sniffling as she smacks his arm, “You did. You bastard.” 

Toji now had Megumi along his hip, nearly stumbling as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pecking his lips multiple times while still crying throughout her happiness.

“Is this the little Megumi?” Her aunt playfully gasps. 

 Megumi giggles as he raises his arms into hers, surprisingly going right into her embrace which makes her happily cheer. Toji almost had to blink twice. 

“Well come on people, our flight is gonna start boarding soon!” The mom calls, taking the hand of her husband as the aunt giggles excitedly with Megumi in her hands, Seioni’s brother helping with the bags as he follows behind.

 She turns to Toji as she wraps her arms around his neck, “You’re such a sweetie when you wanna be, y’know that? Always putting on this scary act and you’re just a little teddy bear. My muffin.” 

“You think I’m a teddy bear, huh?” He teased lightly, one of his hands lightly resting along the small of her back, holding her close to him. “Don’t be fuckin’ cute. I’m only soft for you.” 

“Looks like somebody's tryna’ get on my good side, hm?” 

She stood on her toes, dragging her tongue along his jaw before sucking his lips into her mouth, making him grunt lowly, “Don’t get me put on the no flight list, Seioni.” 

She giggles, “Bad boy. We’re with my family!” She teases, giggling as she tries to pull away, “The baby can hear you,” she places her hand along her belly.

“She’s gonna feel something if you don’t stop playing,” he threatens along her lips, hearing as she shockingly giggles, swatting his arm before she begins pulling him towards their gate, “Let’s go!” 

The flight had gone by quickly—at least for Seioni, she fell asleep before the plane even took off. Toji spent most of his time hovering the phone over to Megumi to keep him quiet, seeing as he became fussy from having to be stuck in one place for a long period of time. Her mom and aunt were also asleep, her brother and father engrossed in a movie they were both watching at the same time.

He couldn’t help but sigh as both Seioni and Megumi gripped along his body to comfortably sleep, Toji barely unable to move at this point. The tired laugh that fell from his lips was inevitable.

The minute that he felt like he’d dozed off, they arrived in Maui. His jet-lagged physique made him feel like his eyes were shutting by themselves, but to see the excitement of his fiancè as she pulled him through the airport, he figured he’d sleep another time. The sun was shining brighter than they’d ever experienced as they made it outside, the flowers were blooming and the trees were vibrantly green—it was almost overwhelming.

“We were only on the plane for an hour but yet my ass feels like it’s been sitting in a seat for hours,” he mutters, his voice tired. It felt like his chest had been filled with concrete; the only thing keeping him focused was the pure, raw excitement that his fiancè showed. 

“Awe, you need a massage?” Seioni questions, rubbing the side of his neck as he attempts to pick up her luggage, his and Megumi’s. 

“Don’t be tryna’ soften me up and shit” he points out, Seioni pouting as she says, “Moi? Softening you up? How dare you.” 

Toji huffs as she continues to rub at the side of his neck, the action making him want to just collapse into her body and fall asleep. 

“What do you want, woman?”

“Your love and affection?” She bats her eyelashes, “You've been working  so hard. Nova, come get these bags before I punch you! My man is doing all the damn work!” She calls for her brother, wrapping her arms around Toji as she pecks his jaw.

“Stop yelling at me, fucker.”

Both siblings raise their middle fingers to each other, Toji having to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing at the sight. 

He feels her arms wrapping around his body, subconsciously holding her a bit tighter against him as he grumbles, “Yeah, okay.”

When they walked into what essentially seems to be a villa, the sight was beautiful. The inside walls were brown, minimalist beige furniture with a large kitchen. There were multiple rooms, an opening that led out to a personal pool, fruits, finger foods plastered around the kitchen island to welcome the family in the house.

“Dammnn, Toji. You’ did good!” Saanaà calls, the aunt agreeing, “This shit is bougie. You’ must really love Oni’!” 

“She’s aight!,” her brother Nova comments, the dad intervening, “Don’t be mad cause you don’t have a woman to do this for.”

“That’s if he had the money!” Aunt Celeste clowns on him, everyone laughing as Nova smacks his lips, carrying their bags upstairs.

“Let’s go to the beach! I need to see the sun set.”

“Ooh, and to see the fine men on the beach!” Her aunt agreed with her moms statement. 

“That too,” Saanaà nods her head, Noel then saying, “You’ tryna be funny, married woman?” With a raised eyebrow.

“Oh boy, don’t start. Y’know I love you…but I also love  looking at fine men!” 

Seioni rolls her eyes with a soft laugh, then saying, “As much as I’d love to watch you two act an ass on this beach, I’m feeling a little nauseated from the plane ride,” she places her hand over her belly, feeling her feet becoming heavier as she stands. Toji immediately wraps his arm around her, steadying as he knows her feet hurt at times.

“You alright, baby?” Toji is immediately concerned, having the urge to pick her up to keep her feet off of the ground.

“Do you need us to stay with you?” Her mom asks, now becoming equally worried. 

She shakes her head, “No—actually, take Megumi with you, if that’s okay. I’d love for him to see the water. Let him spend some time with y’all, Toji can stay here and make sure I don’t roll down the stairs,” she weakly jokes, pulling her hair behind her ear tiredly.

Her mom nods her head in agreement, looking over at Toji with a curious look, “You don’t mind?” 

Toji shrugs his shoulders, “Nah. I can stay here and make sure she doesn’t hurt herself,” he half-jokes, shifting so her body can lean more so on his own.

“Okay, we’ll be back soon. Let’s go, Meggie!” Her aunt picks up the small two-year old, watching as he giggled, wrapping his arms around her neck. 

All in her plan. Once the family exits out the house, Toji looks down as he notices the grin she tries to suppress. He raises an eyebrow, realizing she had been trying to find a reason to get her family out of the house without actually having to ask.

“You’re a terrible actor,” he hums, “You just wanted me all to yourself? Selfish ass.” 

“Mhmmm,” she hums back, happy as can be, tugging him towards the master bedroom. 

It was more beautiful than she imagined. A crisp white bed next to a walk in shower, green marble in the structure of the walls. As they look out to the balcony, there’s a clawfoot tub that looks out into the beauty of the green trees, a sight that she could look at forever. 

She felt a pang in her chest as she was now alone with him, as if this wasn’t her fiancée that’d she’d been with for the past two years. He knew every part of her body, so why was she afraid to show it? 

She faced the wall of the shower as she undressed. Toji instantly notices how she refuses to look at herself, but says nothing. He didn’t wanna cause an argument— at least for now. 

The tub is now filled, flower petals drenched beneath the warm water, multicolored and ethereal to their eyes. Seioni leans against the top of the tub as she stares out at the horizon, her long bohemian braids claw clipped out of her face, skin bare of makeup as her freckles tattoo against her cheeks and nose. The sunlight beamed against her brown skin, she couldn’t look away from it. Toji was the opposite—he couldn’t look away from her. 

She continued to ramble, “So, I was thinking about baby names again. I had been looking into some Japanese names for a girl, and I saw the name Kiyomi—I thought it was so cute. It’ll fit into our little family, everyone ending in ‘I’s’. Megumi, Seioni, Toji, you get what I’m saying? And then I can give her a little nickname like ‘Omi’ cause it sounds like me! ‘Oni’! Yeah?” 

When she hears no response and realizes she might’ve been talking too much, she stops, noticing the way he leans his head slightly as he stares at her. 

She leans herself into the water as she gives a small 

smile, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

His gray eyes continued to stare at her, tracing every dip and curve of her body with his gaze as he spoke, “You’re so pretty, baby.”

She rolls her eyes, “Were you even listening?” coming closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she comes onto his lap. The warm water engulfs both of their skin.

Toji allows her to adjust herself onto his lap, his arms immediately wrapping around her waist once she is situated. He hums as he buries his face into the crook of her neck, his lips attaching to her warm throat.

“I was listening,” he murmurs, “Kiyomi is a nice name, perfect for a pretty little girl. Just like her momma.”

He continues to press kisses against her skin, teeth gently nipping at the skin of her shoulder. She sighs, feeling that she wanted to have a conversation about what was going on in her head. But she knew that Toji wouldn’t be too happy to hear the unhappiness she felt, and she didn’t want to ruin the trip. 

“You’ve been all quiet on me since we got here,” she says quietly, “I miss you. Are you feeling…overwhelmed with my family?”

He chuckles, “Nah, I’m good, Mama. I’m just a little tired. We’ve been traveling for hours and your family is on ten at all times. It’s just different.” 

He presses a gentle kiss against her exposed collarbone, “Plus, I’ve been looking forward to being alone with you.”

Her mind wracks at that. She knows they need some time together, without Megumi’s constant whining and crying, without her family regardless of this trip. She thought back to the doctor's words of intimacy, the thought feeling almost virginal to her. She felt…not like herself. She wasn’t looking for a pep talk about confidence. But this belly and the changes in her body, she wasn’t used to it. 

She pulls him closer, letting the petals flow around them within the tub as she asks, “You’d tell me if they were getting on your nerves, right?”

Toji allows her to pull him closer, his arms fully wrapping around her back as he presses a kiss against her shoulder. He chuckled softly at her question, “Your family is cool as fuck. But this conversation isn’t gonna stop you from saying what’s actually wrong with you.” 

She feels the intensity in his stare. Blowing out a breath at the question, her eyes fall back down. This was the time to be vulnerable, but as said before, she didn’t want a scolding in response. 

She shakes her head as she lies somewhat, “Just nervous about the family thing. They can be kinda…controlling?”

His eyebrows furrow, “Don’t lie to me.” 

“I’m not,” she lies again, “So you aren’t worried about getting into it with them? You have a mouth on you.”

Toji gives her a look, knowing that she was bullshitting him. There was definitely more to what she was saying than she was letting on. 

“Nope,” he responds instead, “I do have a mouth on me, but I’m a grown ass man, I know how to— what do you’ be saying? Keep it cute? I’m hip as fuck!” 

“Oh god,” she giggles, wrapping her arms tightly around him, ignoring his chuckle that buried into her shoulder blade. 

Another thought passes of wanting to be upfront with him. But the atmosphere, their moment together—it was too beautiful to ruin. She just hoped he didn’t push about it, knowing that he could read anything on her face. 

“Do you know how much I love you?” She questions, kissing his jaw, pecking his nose, even along his cheeks.

His eyes dart over her face as she begins to pepper all over his cheeks with kisses. She attempts to act cutesy in order to distract him from the question, knowing all too well that she’s doing so. She was good at it too. 

He sighs as a small smirk forms on his face, “Nah, do you know how I love you?” he responds.

“Mmm, as much as the moon loves the stars within the sky?” She cheekily responds, pressing her forehead against his, feeling his hand press gently along her stomach.

Toji chuckles and rolls his eyes at her dorky response, one of his hands gently rubbing at her stomach while the other rests on her hip. He smirks at her, “Corny ass. I love you more than that.” 

When he kisses her, it feels breathless as he holds her jaw while sucking his lips into her mouth, as if it had more meaning behind it. When he pulled back, the warmth against her face and the dumb smile along it wouldn’t falter. She loved this man. 

“Now, back to the name game. I’m thinking Toji Jr, or Megumi-Toji-Jr, or, Toji-Megumi-Jr, yeah?” 

Seioni rolls her eyes. She loves him, even if he was a damn idiot. 

As the sun sets along the island, Seioni and Toji meet the rest of her family out towards the beach, a family dinner now taking place. Her black baby tee and a long matching skirt that draped down to her ankles, orchid sandals and a matching flower along the side of her hair made her feel somewhat decent—even if she kept glancing down at her stomach— She waved excitedly as everyone cheered when they arrived, Toji holding her hand behind her to make sure she didn’t trip within the sand. 

He was like a baby, wanting to have a tantrum when she asked him to wear a Hawaiian button up, the man wanting to die before he put on patterned clothes. Instead she got him to wear a pair of black and white flowered swimming trunks, white long sleeve clinging to his broad frame—he still wasn’t entirely happy about it.

The group had set up a makeshift table on the sand, chairs and a checkered picnic blanket set out. The sun was setting, the ocean and sky turning into a blend of oranges and pinks, the scene quite breathtaking. 

The family sat around the table, eating and making small talk. Toji leaned into the seat, his body relaxed and his hand rested on Seioni’s lower back. Despite them being his soon to be in-laws, Toji found her family entertaining enough, able to keep him interested with their banter back and forth.

Hula dancers suddenly appeared as they all talked, their villa's host also appearing as he welcomed them to Maui. The family was amazed as some of the girls performed fire tricks, their hips moving in ways that were more than talented. It wasn’t too long before Megumi stood from where he sat next to Seioni and Toji and played in the sand, running up to them as he began to dance—which was jumping around in a baby’s attempts to find rhythm, giggling as the hula girls smiled at him.

The family laughed at the adorable sight before them, Toji chuckling at the little dancing Megumi, jumping around and babbling. It was extremely cute, the hula dancers all smiling and waving at the little boy. 

“Don’t think you got those moves from your non-rhythm ass daddy, huh?” Seioni’s aunt giggled. 

“Not too much! I have rhythm!” Toji defends himself, Seioni giggling beside him. 

Everyone was now up— her brother flirting his way into getting one of the Hula girls' numbers, her mom pulling her dad up to dance with her, and her aunt recording Megumi as she shouted, “Go Meg! Go Meg!” 

Seioni hadn’t felt this happy in a while. As she turned her head to kiss Toji, a hula girl came forward, pulling her up off the sand to dance with her, trying to teach her the movement of her hips. 

Seioni giggled, her cheeks warm as she followed, raising her hands above her body as she twisted her hips to follow the music that played.

Toji couldn’t help but smile at her as he watched her follow along with the hula girl. Her body moved in a fluid motion, hips twisting and swaying. Toji’s smile only grew wider, the joy and twinkle in her eyes making his heart skip in his chest. She looked so happy and so free, as if nothing in the world could get in her way. 

His eyes darkened in a different way as he watched how she looked in her tight skirt and top, the way it hugged her curves. He loved her in more ways than one, but at times it felt like he was digging his nails into the surface, trying to hold back a side of him she knew the first night she’d met him. He was becoming impatient, and he was an extremely patient man.

Seioni was now dancing with Megumi, spinning him around playfully. When her Aunt Celeste wanted the baby all to herself, Seioni brought her attention back towards Toji as she leaned down with her arms out, gesturing for him to dance with her.

Toji rolled his eyes slightly as he was pulled to his feet, his hand gripping her as their bodies pressed close together. He chuckled, wrapping one arm around her hips while his other hand gripped hers as they began to sway, his eyes gazing down at her. 

“You really just can’t get enough of me, huh, woman?”

“Never. It’s unfortunate, isn’t it?” 

She sighs, wrapping her arms around his neck, giggling as he pulls her sandals on top of his shoes, twisting her around and holding her up by them. He leans down as he brings his lips to her neck, a small gasp leaving her lips as she feels his palm slam on her ass, pulling her eyes up as she shrieks, “Fushiguro!”

“Don’t act like that. They know how you got pregnant in the first place.” 

“I’m putting a muzzle on you for the rest of the time here,” she tells him, “You’re not being good.”

His eyebrow raises, mischief glistening in his eyes as he chuckles at the threat. He leans in closer, his nose almost bumping against hers. 

“Let me start barking then.”

She rolls her eyes, leaning her face up to kiss him, “Keep talking shit, maybe I’ll put a muzzle on my mouth and you’ll be using that hand all week.”

He raises an eyebrow, “A muzzle on you, huh? That’s some freaky shit. Ooh, girl, you’re nasty.”

Seioni giggles as he fully picks her up and spins her around, kissing away their entire conversation. The family spent hours along the beach, the night nearly going into dawn when they made it back to the villa. Toji felt like he’d been hit by a train, the jet-lag and overall tiredness he felt hitting him all at once as they made their way to bed.

 Megumi was sleeping with Celeste, while Nova and her parents had their own rooms, leaving Toji and Seioni alone to themselves. His hand rubbed her stomach until she fell asleep, finally allowing his own eyes to close once he knew she was comfortable. 

…But just as he was deep within his rest, a knock came pounding at their door. It felt like he’d just closed his eyes. 

“Good morning Love Birds, we’re all going to breakfast!” 

Her mom calls through the door. When she doesn’t hear anything, she knocks again. Still silent. She then makes the decision to open the door without asking permission, walking towards the bed as she tugged at the covers along their feet.

“I know y’all hear me!”

Seioni groans softly, her eyes blinking open to see her mom standing at the end of the bed. She says to her softly, “Hi, mommy.”

As she turns, she sees Toji is also awake—practically giving her mom the death stare, his eyes only peeking above the covers, pulling Seioni closer to him. 

“The fuck?” he grumbled, still glaring.

“Toji,” she scolded softly, tapping his chest at his reaction, “We’ll be down there in a minute, mom.”

“‘The fuck I am,” he disagreed under his breath, deepening himself under the covers.

“Hurry up! I love me some French toast, it’ll be gone in seconds!”

With that, her mom slams the door, Toji almost wanting to throw something against the wall at all the loud sounds imploding his ears.

Seioni sighs, running a hand over her face as she murmurs, “What time is it?”

“Too early to be having motherfuckers slamming the door open talking about some dumb ass French toast,” Toji mutters back, immensely irritated. 

“Hey, that’s my momma you’re talking about, jackass. Tighten up,” she flicks his nose, “Why are you so grumpy? You’ literally get up at the ass crack of dawn to go to work. What’s so different now?”

“Because? I’m not at work right now?” His voice held a grumpy tone, obviously not amused by her mother’s sudden appearance. 

His eyes narrowed as he looked up at her, “How the hell can you even act so calm right now? You hate your sleep being interrupted.”

“Because we’re on vacation and should enjoy every moment we have together, Fushiguro,” she pulls his face up to meet hers, squeezing his cheeks as she says, “Lighten up, Muffin?” 

His hands reach up to take a hold of her wrists, his irritation only building, “No.” he says firmly. 

“Mean ass,” she insults, “Maybe you do need some breakfast.”

His eyes peek open at that. When he glances down at her appearance, scarf around her hair and in his jersey, the vanilla spray she spritzed on herself before they went to sleep inhaled his senses—this is when he found her most attractive. 

Maybe he did need to relax. His eyes darken as he comes closer, his lips along her neck as he sucks at the skin, coming up as he latches a kiss against her mouth. 

He grunts, “You’re right. Open your fuckin’ legs, I’m hungry.” 

Her body tenses up as he kisses her, his hand along her belly making her want to squirm. What if she wasn’t as seductive as she used to be? 

She was doing her best to keep up with him, that much he knew. He could feel it in the kisses, the way her body reacted to his touch. But she wasn’t fully giving herself to him. He wanted more from her. He needed that hunger that he knew she was holding back—He needed her to be as desperate as he was. 

He let out a low growl between their kisses, clutching her hair within his fingers as he tugged her head back, licking the skin of her throat. She whimpers softly, “Toji…”

“Quit holding back,” he murmurs against her skin. He can feel her breath hitch again, her body trembling in his grip, “Let me make you feel good.”

A soft moan comes from her lips as she grabs his hair in her fingers, head falling back as she tries to relax her body. For a moment she felt okay. But when she notices how he has to hover over her to not hit her belly, her insecurities come crumbling onto her. 

It was also right on time, another knock coming to the door as her mom calls, “I know y’all don’t want me to bust in this damn room again!” 

She stopped him. Pressing her hand against his jaw to push him back, she says softly, “Maybe we should just go get breakfast.”

Knock, knock, knock. 

His eyes narrow, irritation returning, this time for a completely different reason. This was the last thing he wanted. He was finally getting somewhere with her, she was finally letting herself go, and now they were being interrupted again. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” 

She sighs, “I don’t need the house cussing us out, everyone has to eat together in my family,” she briefly explains, “Plus…my belly is kinda…in the way…” 

She brushes her self deprecating thoughts away as she sighs, “Lets just go.” 

“‘The fuck are you talking about?”

She ignores that question. Now standing from the bed, she removes her scarf as her braids come falling around her face, edges still sculpted perfectly as she pulls on some house slippers, going to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

His eyes follow her as she stands, his mood now more than just sour. She really thinks that his thoughts have changed because of a baby bump? He loves her, and nothing about her looks or her body would ever change that. 

But just like her—he wasn’t in the mood to argue. He swings himself off the bed, running a hand through his messy black hair. His irritation grew the more he thought about her comment.

When they finally make their way into the kitchen's dining area, Seioni politely greets the workers as they place their food against the table, Toji glaring behind her as he sits, quickly greeting the family, “Morning.” 

He sees Megumi sitting at the table with Celeste, rubbing his eyes as he whines softly. When he sees Toji, he raises his arms up, the first time of him wanting his father’s attention since they’ve been here.

He looks to her aunt, “Did you wake him up?”

“We did. Eating together is tradition, that includes sleeping babies! We woke Seioni and Nova up every morning around this time to eat breakfast, tired or not. You have to get used to getting up early,” Saanaà tells him. 

“He has trouble sleeping, I don’t need him waking up if he’s finally asleep. That makes him irritated throughout the day, and he won’t stop fussing,” Toji says, voice filled with annoyance from what Seioni could read. She lightly places her hand over his.

Her touch manages to calm him down a bit, although his irritation was still there. He was just happy that at least she was calm, he didn’t want her stress levels to go up.

“He’ll be okay, nothing a pacifier can’t fix!” Her aunt then chimes in, an uncomfortable tension now in the air. 

Seioni then lightly passes, “We’re trying to get him off the pacifier, Aunt Celeste.” 

Her mom takes a fork, digging it into her toast as she shrugs, “He’s a baby. No need to do all that extra shit and go by his schedule, you’re the parent. He’s gonna cry regardless. Let him.”

Seioni presses her lips into her mouth. Here they go, she thought.

 As she went to respond to that, Toji leaned forward as Megumi still had his hands out for him, the two year old whining as he cradled into his fathers arms. He leaned his head against his shoulder with his thumb now in his mouth.

How was she going to tell him how to raise his own fucking kid? 

Seioni looks to her father and brother, knowing how her aunt and mom could be. They thankfully catch her quiet call for help as Noel says, “So, what’s the plans for today, Oni’?” 

“I was thinking me and Toji could look at some venues in Maui, I really am thinking about a wedding along the beach, as long as it isn’t too hot,” she tells them with a soft smile, clutching her fingers in Toji’s that’s under the table, feeling the tense in his body. 

“You’re doing that today?” Her aunt blinks, “Girl, we have plenty of time for that. Why don’t we go jet-skiing! Or swim with the turtles?”

“Ooh! Jet-skiing sounds nice as hell!” Her mom agrees, the both of them clinking their mimosas together.

Nova then chimes in, “Yeah, momma. That sounds cool. But you wouldn’t wanna go see some beach venues?” He tries to reel both women back in, seeing as this is what his sister wants, and Toji’s eyes narrow as they try to force their itineraries on her.

“Not really. A beach wedding is simple anyways, honey,” Seioni’s mom shakes her head, “Your father married me in a beautiful cathedral, with angels, cherubs and renaissance paintings all against the walls. You should want more than that.”

That makes Seioni blink for a moment, her hand going lax in Toji’s. She knew how her mom could be, wanting things for herself and putting them onto her daughter, she just wished this wasn’t the time she did that.

His fingers twitch under the table, his irritation only growing as the conversation continued. How could they just disregard her? Didn’t they care about what she wanted?

“Well, um—maybe you guys can just go jet-ski and me and Toji will look for venues?” She then suggests, “You can take Megumi, I’m sure he’d enjoy the water way more.”

“Girl, this is a family vacation, meaning we’re all supposed to be together. You’re coming,” her mom finalizes, her aunt then saying, “Toast to that!” The both of them once again clinking those stupid ass mimosas. They were obviously tipsy. 

Eyes fall onto Toji who then stands from the table, holding Megumi as he says, “I’m gonna go try to feed him upstairs and put him down for a nap.” 

Seioni could feel her fiancées annoyance. She could feel the frustration radiating off of him. But she knew he was trying to hold his mouth for the sake of her family. 

She gives him a weak smile as she says, “Okay,” accepting the peck of his lips against hers before he makes his way upstairs.

“Toji can be a grumpy ass man it seems,” her mom points out, not realizing how irritating she’s being. 

“It’s just hard for us to get Megumi to sleep at times, Momma. Him being woken up this early dismisses the schedule we have him on,” she tries to explain.

“He’ll be okay,” her mom waves her hand, “There’s a lot we’re going to be doing, you both just need to relax a little bit.”

"And it's not all about Megumi," her aunt adds, "You have to think about us. We want to spend time with you, too."

Her eyes narrow slightly as she tries not to get riled up, "I know…”

Her mom takes a sip of her mimosa, her voice lowering, "But just think, is your fiancée seriously gonna be happy with a beach wedding?" 

Seioni can feel her shoulders tense as her mom puts doubt into her mind. She can see what she’s trying to do—maybe it’s starting to work.

“He’s happy with whatever I want, Mom,”  she pulls a braid behind her ear, “The whole reason we came to Maui was because he knew this was one of my places I wanted to get married.”

"Really?" Her aunt's voice is a mix between disbelief and surprise. "That man is happy with whatever you want?" 

Her mom shakes her head, "You really have him whipped, huh?"

“I need to get my husband like that,” her mom then laughs loudly, her aunt then chiming in, “I need all three of my men on my knees like he is!”

“Saanaà,” Seioni’s father scolds, Nova pulling out his phone to dismiss himself from this entire conversation.

Seioni blinks back and forth between them, feeling herself becoming irritated as well. If she let them go on for too long, they started berating everyone around. It wasn’t fun. 

Seioni presses her lips into her mouth as she says, “I’m gonna go take my medicine, we can meet back down here in the next hour for jet-skiing…or swimming with the turtles, yeah?”

Her mom gives her a sly smile, taking another sip of her mimosa, "Mhm, sounds like a plan, honey. Take your meds and we'll see you soon." 

Seioni's dad places his hand on her shoulder, Nova looking up from his phone, giving her a nod, agreeing that everything would be fine. Hopefully.

She could hear her mom and aunt both say, “Beach wedding…” another laugh, another clink of those fucking mimosas. 

As she makes her way upstairs, she opens the door to see Toji sitting at the end of the bed with Megumi as he holds a bowl of eggs towards him, the tv along the wall playing a cartoon that they usually watched together. 

Toji raised the scrambled eggs in his hand as he gestured to the baby, “Eat-eat?”

Megumi stares at the bowl in front of him, his eyes wide as he glances between Toji and the eggs. There's hesitation on his expression, as if he isn't sure if he wants to eat the food or not. Then his stomach growls, and he makes a face.

“No, Eat-Eat,” he pouts, rubbing his eyes, getting eggs within his hair as his tiny fingers rub his face. 

“Eat, eat,” Toji says again, a hint of impatience in his voice. He tries to guide the spoonful of eggs closer to Megumi's mouth, but the little boy turns his head away, refusing to open.

Seioni sighs as she closes the door. Toji looks at her, watching as she crosses her arms over her chest, a blank stare in her face as she keeps her eyes against the floor. The entire tables conversation replays in her head—she felt like this trip was slowly taking a turn. 

“No hungry, Oni’,” Megumi says to her, pushing the spoon away that Toji holds to him. 

Seioni sighs, “Eat-eat, Meggie. Then, go to bed? Yeah?”

Megumi blinks again, a deeper pout coming on his olive cheeks, skin deepening in red as tears gloss his eyes. He pouts, “Paci,” his own way of trying to say Pacifier. Toji shakes his head, “Don’t want you to cry, papa. Please eat-eat.”

He sniffles, leaning forward as he opens his mouth, Toji making a blowing sound with his lips to gain his attention, pushing the spoon within his mouth as he finally accepts the eggs. He watches as Megumi then takes the small bowl he has, beginning to mush the eggs together before shoving them into his mouth, crumbs falling all along the bed.

“You’ good?” Toji then takes his attention towards Seioni. 

She presses her lips in as she nods, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

"You don't look fine," he says bluntly, his eyes lingering. He knows her better than that.

“I’m just…my mom and my aunt are just drinking too much,” she brushes off, “That’s all. I don’t want Meggie to be irritated and sleepy all day, I just…wanna go look at venues.”

"We'll go look at venues," he assures her, his voice gentle. "We can go to every fuckin’ venue on this beach, baby. Whatever you want.”

Seioni takes in another breath. She wanted this vacation to be perfect, and for everyone to be happy. She didn’t want to be a pregnant bridezilla. 

She shakes her head, giving a fake smile as she sighs, “We’ll go jet-skiing, and swim with the turtles. It’ll be fun! We can check out the venues tomorrow.”

It’s unfortunate he could see right through her. 

"You sure about that, sunshine?" he asks, his voice laced with sarcasm. "We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, and you can tell your family that. You don’t have to be scared of them.”

She glances over to Megumi who’s now laying on her side of the bed, slowly dozing off as he keeps his eyes upon the show he watches. 

She crosses her arms again as she frowns, “Who said I was scared? I’m a grown ass woman, Fushiguro.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t. But you don’t have to let them walk over you.”

“And I’m not?”

“Okay.”

“Okay, so drop it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” 

With that, she ignores the smack on his lips, Toji standing to shower, going around her as he pulls his shirt off of his upper body. She doesn’t even jump as the door slams behind him. She keeps her arms crossed, feeling like this was their first argument since they’d been here. This wasn’t going as well as she thought it would.

The disagreement between her and Toji made her feel weird. She didn’t like fighting with him, and now silence filled the tension for the next hour as they got ready for a day at the beach. She thought about her family, her mom, her aunt, she just wished that everyone was on one accord. But more importantly, she didn’t want to be at odds with Toji. 

She watched as Megumi was now fully dressed but asleep on the bed, Toji still within the shower as she was left alone to stare at herself. She stood in a royal blue bikini top and bottom, golden seashells clasped beneath the material under her breasts. She turned to the side, seeing her belly poking out in a way that made her feel huge. She could feel her eyes watering. 

Why couldn’t she stop feeling like this? Why did she wish she was within her regular body, feeling confident and sexy? For herself? For her fiancée? For herself?

She pulled her hair behind her ear as she heard the bathroom open, now feeling Toji’s broad frame beside her, his arms coming around from behind. Her body immediately leaned back against him.

She said softly, “I feel like…I don’t belong in this bikini.”

His muscles flex as he pulls her in closer to him. He leans down, his chin resting on her shoulder as he looks at her through the mirror. 

"Why do you say that?" he asks, his voice gruff but gentle. "You look fuckin’ perfect, baby."

She keeps her eyes down, not wanting to make herself cry, “I don’t know…maybe I should put something else on.”

"You don't have to put something else on," he says, his voice low. He brings his arm around her shoulders and neck, kissing her ear as he says, “You’re the most gorgeous woman on the planet.” 

She holds onto his arm, “You have to say that. You’ll be my husband soon.” 

“And I’ll say it a million times until you know I mean everything I say. Cut that self-deprecation shit out.”

She jumps lightly as she feels his palm slam along her ass, a breathless laugh leaving her lips as she rubs the tears that are trying to form in her eyes.

“I’m okay,” she convinces herself, bringing her eyes up as she says, “You look nice.”

Toji smirks as she glances up at him through the mirror, her eyes raking over his bare chest and the towel hanging low on his hips. It’s obvious how she’s trying to change the subject, but he doesn’t mind. 

“Don’t start flirting with me now, I’ll blush like a school boy,” he teases, his eyes glimmering with mischief as he grins at her reflection.

She laughs softly, leaning her face into his arm, inhaling the scent of his cologne. She then whispers, “I don’t…I don’t like when we fight.”

“Neither do I,” he agrees, his voice quieter now. “You’re not scared of your family,” he says, repeating the point he made earlier, “But don’t let them walk all over you, yeah?”

She nods her head, tilting her head to look back at him, “You love me? You won’t throw me into the ocean with the fish?”

Toji grins down at her, his eyes sparkling as he leans his face closer to hers. “I love you, momma. More than you know,” He then chuckles lightly, pretending to ponder over her question. “I may throw you in the water later, though.”

She rolls her eyes, leaning up as she kisses him again. 

The rest of the day had gone more pleasant than either of them expected, assuming the chaos of this morning would roll over into the day. Instead, the family enjoyed their time together. They went out to the water to jet ski, Seioni’s mom and her father on one, Nova by himself, and Toji pulling a fearful Seioni on his own while Celeste and Megumi watched from the boat—Celeste taking videos, per usual. Seioni shrieked as they sped on the vehicle, holding onto him tightly as he perfectly maneuvered throughout the crisp water.

He gunned the engine, causing the jet ski to leap forward, Seioni’s screams and giggles piercing the air. Everyone cheered as they coasted along the water, exploring the sight of the island, seeing the beauty of it from this perspective. When they were back on land they tried out Hawaiian snacks, Seioni for a moment seeing her mother and Toji getting along, cracking jokes with one another in a way that made her happy. She knew him, her brother and her father would immediately click. But to see Toji become close with her mom and aunt, it made her feel warm.

As the sun began to set and the sky turned brilliant hues of orange, pink, and gold, Seioni's family gathered for a barbecue dinner on the beach. They had cooked burgers and hot dogs on grills and set out side dishes and beverages on a long table. Toji sat next to Seioni, one arm around her chair as they all enjoyed the meal together.

In the soft flickering light of the torches and the glow of the sunset, Seioni found herself feeling a sense of peace and contentment that she hadn't expected to feel on this vacation.

They laid out along the sand as they were in a vicious game of Uno, her aunt and mom on their third fruity drinks, giggling as they talked shit to each other. 

Seioni rolled her eyes as she put down her card, “The color is…red!”

Toji laughed as Seioni declared the color, her aunt and mom groaning with frustration. The game had been going on for a while now, with all of them getting progressively more competitive as the drinks continued to flow. 

"You guys need to pay attention," Seioni teased, unable to contain her smirk as she watched her mom and aunt pout. Saanaà rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her drink as she said, "We're trying."

Her aunt chimed in with a scoff, "Yeah. It's not our fault that the colors are confusing, especially at night."

Toji chimed in, his voice laced with amusement, "Or maybe y’all are just tipsy as hell.”

“Red looks orange to me!” Celeste shook her head, Nova saying, “Orange isn’t even a color!”

The group burst out laughing at that. As they continued to place their cards down, Megumi sat beside Toji, playing in the sand. He stood on his small feet to get a better leverage on the castle Toji had helped him make earlier, but as he leaned against the sand, he began tugging at the shorts he wore, reaching for his diaper.

Seioni notices him tugging at his bottoms, calling him as she asks, “Meggie, go potty?”

He looked at her, nodding vigorously, “Potty.” 

He attempted to get up, but his small feet immediately sank back into the sand, causing him to lose his balance and stumble back down. Toji chuckled, reaching out to scoop him into his arms as he swiftly tugged his diaper open, catching a waft of stench in the baby’s pants. 

“Fuckin’ hell, Meg. Why didn’t you say potty? You don’t want to get a rash,” he talks more to himself, knowing Megumi couldn’t actually respond. Megumi babbles, wrapping his arms around Toji’s neck to hide himself, always becoming shy when he had an accident, knowing they’d been trying to get him on the toilet. 

“That’s because he can barely speak to say he needs to shit. Maybe y’all should’ve taught him that,” Seioni’s mom says, and it almost feels like an insult. With the way everyone went quiet,  it probably was. 

“Mom,” Seioni warns, “He’s two. He’s not gonna speak like the rest of us. He makes gestures when he needs something.” 

“Oh don’t give me that age bullshit, you and Nova knew how to speak perfectly at two. Knew colors. Even could count to fifty. It’s about the parent, and their lack of teaching to their child.”

Toji narrows his eyes, letting his mouth draw first as he questions, “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“Toji,” Seioni scolds.

“My kid is doing perfectly fuckin’ fine, last time I checked,” Toji sharply replies, “We’re good as fuck over here.”

"The toilet exists yet he still shits himself!" Her mom retorts back, and Toji has to bite his tongue, holding back the urge to curse this woman out. 

“Just say he isn’t fully developed. You don’t have to give excuses, we can teach him something you might not be able to,” Saanaà finalizes, taking another sip of her wine cooler. 

Luckily, Seioni’s dad interrupts the growing tension—before Toji can rip this woman’s head off—his gentle voice trying to diffuse the situation. "Hey, hey. Let's not start fighting. Meggie's just fine.”

Seioni then agrees with a frown, “He’s doing just fine for his age. You’re tipsy.”

“Don’t tell me what the fuck I am, little girl! I’m a grown ass woman, I can drink when I wanna drink!”

“Don’t think ��cause you got a lil’ family you can start talking to us crazy!” Her aunt pipes in. 

Seioni presses her lips together, watching as Toji then stands from his spot, taking Megumi as they begin making their way back towards the villa. He was upset with her for not only saying anything back to her family, but not defending him, knowing if he defended himself it would cause problems.

Her brother helps her stand from her spot before she follows Toji back into the villa, making her way upstairs as she finds him changing Megumi’s diaper. 

“Baby—“

“Nah. Don’t do that, Seioni. You know that shit was disrespectful as fuck.”

“I know that,” she says back, stepping farther into the door.

“You just sat there and let them say that about Megumi? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Seioni’s eyebrows lower, “‘The fuck do you mean by that? I can’t control my mom’s mouth, nor my aunts. I didn’t expect them to say any of that, Fushiguro.”

“It ain’t ‘bout your mom,” Toji snaps, his jaw clenching as his tone gets louder. He hates how she’s now addressing him by his last name, and with an annoyed grunt, he adds, “You could’ve at least said something about it. Defend us. Me. Something.”  

“You’re a grown ass man, Fushiguro. You could’ve told them something, you didn’t seem too afraid to start snapping up on my mom the minute she started talking about Megumi. Let’s talk about your disrespectful, big headed ass!” She insults, coming closer to him, her head tilting up as he towers over her frame.

Toji scoffs, the corner of his lip lifting up in a sneer. “My disrespectful, big headed ass? My disrespectful ass??”

“How about your disrespectful ass not saying anything when your mom insults our family. That’s what has me pissed. You didn’t stick up for your own motherfuckin’ so-called husband.” 

They’re going back and forth, not realizing that the rest of the family has entered the house. Her aunt and mother are too in their own world to hear the argument, her father trying to sober them up as her brother overhears. 

Nova quickly comes upstairs as he then says, “Hey, uh—I can take Megumi downstairs, I’m gonna make some smoothies, I think he’ll like it?” Trying to make sure the baby wasn’t within the room for their argument.

Toji’s eyes dart towards her brother as he appears, watching as he extends his hands towards Meg, reaching to pick him up. Toji nods and hands the child gently over to him, watching as he leaves the room. 

When he’s out of sight, Toji’s attention turns back to Seioni, focusing his scowl back on her. His face is stern, his hand running through his hair as he speaks, his voice quieter. 

“You should’ve said something. Anything, Seioni.” 

“So all of this is my fault? Let’s not act like you don’t have a fuckin’ mouth on you that I have to constantly put on a leash. What she said was wrong, but to point fingers at me? Fuck that, and fuck you!”

Those words hit right where he didn’t want them to, and a bitter laugh leaves his lips as he shakes his head. 

“This is what the fuck I was talking about. I’ve been so patient with your family. Your mom. Your aunt. Waking me up early as fuck as if I’ve slept, letting them walk all over you and tell you what to do as if you aren’t a grown ass woman. My fuckin’ woman. And now, telling me how to raise my kid? I’ve really been sparing your ass on the civil fact that I don’t want to get into it with your people. I love you too much to do that.”

“Oh, I’m supposed to be thankful on account of that? For not cussing out my mom and aunt? Man of the fuckin’ year, aren’t you?” She tilts her head, her body practically fuming as she becomes more pissed off, “You’re right. They’re a pain in the ass, I know that. You’re smart as fuck to not fix your mouth to say some slick shit to my momma. But instead of taking your lashings out on me, be a man and tell them that yourself! You can use your words without talking out of your neck, Fushiguro!” 

“I am a fuckin’ man!” He shouts, “A man wouldn’t talk out the side of his neck to your family! I’m trying not to act an ass, but you’re taking me there. They’re taking me there. Stop talking to me like I’m stupid as fuck, Seioni.” 

Seioni nearly flinches back at his tone, the anger seeping between them implausible. It's evident he’d been feeling like this for a while, and the reaction was worse than she wanted it to be. When she goes to open her mouth, it’s cut off by the sudden sound of screaming coming from downstairs—they belonged to Megumi. 

The both of them take off without question. When they take sight of the living room, they see Megumi standing in the middle of the marble, holding his arm that’s welted red.

“What happened?” Toji snarls, Seioni immediately picking him up, her heart beating as she says, “What happened to your arm?”

“I looked away for two seconds and his little bad ass put one of his toys in the toilet, and now it’s overflowed!” Her aunt shouts, the look on her brother and father’s face full of shock.

“Did you hit him?” Seioni’s eyes go wide, Megumi’s heavy crying filling her ear as he leans into her chest.

Toji thought he was going to have to kill someone. He saw red, only focused on the welt within his child’s arm. He looks to her mom as he squints, “Have you lost your fuckin’ mind? Why would you hit him? My fuckin’ child? Are you fuckin’ stupid?”

“He needs to learn! Y’all don’t seem to be teaching him shit! putting goddamn toys in the toilet—“

“That's for me to teach him!” Toji yells, deep voice having the entire villa shake, “You don’t get to tell me what the fuck to do about my kid! You and your insolent ass sister have too much liquor in your fuckin’ systems to have some sense!” 

“Aye, watch your fuckin’ mouth when you’re talking to my mom,” Nova warns, Seioni’s brother now glaring at Toji.

Toji was done.

“Or what, huh? ‘The fuck are you gonna do?” Toji’s fists clenched, his muscles becoming tense as he looked at Nova. “You wanna throw hands over your mom, you go right ahead. I’ll make you swallow your motherfuckin’ teeth.” 

Chaos ensues at this point. Megumi was still crying, Seioni tries to hold back Toji who lunges at Nova, and Seioni’s father holds back Nova who cusses out Toji right behind her mom and aunt that do the same. She feels overwhelmed, her worst fears coming to life—her entire family was falling apart. It gets so bad that the villa’s host had heard them from his part of the house, coming in and taking hold of Megumi who nearly falls in Seioni’s arms from tugging at Toji. 

“Stop it!” 

Her voice screams out, gripping Toji fully, tears masking in her vision, her cries catching the attention of the entire family—they’d never heard her raise her voice like that.

They all go silent, even Toji, who is breathing heavily. They all look at Seioni, and Toji is just surprised to be witnessing her on the verge of tears. She’d never looked so distraught. 

The room is filled with silence before her voice speaks up again, this time much less aggressive, much more vulnerable, almost like she was begging to be heard.

“This trip was supposed to be about me. I’ve been all over the place with this pregnancy, and the one thing I wanted was the support of all of you, and to enjoy my time here with my family, and yours all about to fuckin’ kill each other!” 

She raises her voice again, the entire room flinching, shocked to see her like this. She places her hand over her face as she sobs, trying to calm herself as she begins hyperventilating, “I didn’t…I didn’t even get to see one venue…”

The sight of her crying like this makes Toji’s heart want to drop. He frowns, becoming more pissed off at how upset they’ve all made her.

“Baby—“

“No, Fushiguro. Everything’s just…fucking ruined…” she continues to cry, high pitched as she gasps to try to control her breathing.

Toji swallows the lump in his throat, his chest feeling heavy as she speaks. She’s right, this was supposed to be about her, a time for her to get away from all the stress of pregnancy and relax. But instead, they all got wrapped up in their own emotions. 

Everyone feels a pang of guilt. The silence is heavy as Megumi blinks within the hosts’ arms, seeing Seioni’s tears, trying to understand her emotions. 

“Oni’, sad?”

She hears the small voice, her focus now going back to him. He shouldn’t have had to see the bullshit of this situation. 

With that, she politely takes him into her arms, cradling him as she begins making her way out of the villa. Toji’s deep voice calls for her, “Seioni—Seioni!”  going to go after her when her father then says, “Just let her go, Toji. She’ll be fine. She just needs time.”

Toji grinds his teeth at those words, wanting to go after her. He hates leaving her alone when she’s upset, but her father was right. She just needed some time. But that didn’t make leaving any easier. 

He sighs, running his hand through his hair as he closes his eyes, his jaw clenching as he looks back at her family. Nova looks upset, her mom and aunt looking somewhat guilty. No one dared to speak after their outburst, so the living room remained tense.

Seioni makes her way out onto the beach, going farther than she planned for herself to. She walked for what felt like almost twenty minutes, finding a small patch of rocks, a seating area with flowers surrounding it. She sees from afar as children play by the water, placing Megumi beside her as she clumps the sand up for his attention, just needing the comfort of him knowing he wouldn’t have much to say. She then sighs, watching as the sun sets, placing her hands over her belly, rubbing gently. 

“You’re causing havoc before you even get here, Y’know that?” She looks down to her stomach.

The evening wind blows as the sun slowly falls, washing over Seioni’s face, which is puffy and red from her previous tears. As she sits on the little rock, she speaks to her belly, the sound of her baby’s heartbeat filling her ears as she touches her stomach. She finds herself surrounded by tranquility, the soft waves of the water and the laughter of children bringing her comfort.

She then looks at Megumi, leaning her hand out as he wraps his small fingers around her index. She says softly to him, “Oni’ love Megumi. And Papa.”

Megumi takes hold of her finger, his tiny hand around her index. His large round eyes look up at her, a look of curiosity within his gaze. His little nose scrunches as he tries to say something back, but nothing comes out aside from a few babbles, making his little pink lips pursed together.

She giggles, opening her palm as he pats his hand against hers a couple of times, blowing raspberries into his other hand. All of her guilt hits her, despite everyone being the cause of their own issues. She wished her mom and aunt hadn’t been so rude at times, she wishes Toji wasn’t so easy to anger, but she also wishes that she had stood up for him, for Megumi. She loved them both so much, and this was now her family as well. With that, she decides to sit in silence with Megumi, watching as the sun goes down.

                        ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.  𐦍༘⋆ ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.  𐦍༘⋆

A COUPLE HOURS HAD PASSED, and the family was becoming more nervous. When they realized that Seioni wasn’t anywhere near the villa, they also found out she didn’t have her phone. They sent the host to go look for her, Toji nearly about to have a nervous breakdown as he thought the worse.

“I’m sure she’s fine, Toji,” Noel tells him, trying to get him to relax.

“She doesn’t have her phone, and she’s on an island she’s never been to. Pregnant. With fuckin’ Megumi,” he’s angry, he’s unsure why, he just wants to see her. Make sure she’s okay. Was she lost?

“Talking to her while she’s still upset won’t do anything but make shit worse,” he reminds.

Her mother and aunt sit along the couch, now drinking water instead of their usual mimosa or wine cooler. They both feel bad about the way they’ve been speaking to Seioni and her fiancè. 

Her aunt sighs, “Look—we’re so sorry, Toji. Everything that happened was just—wrong. Our control issues, hitting Megumi, trying to tell you what to do—You’re a good father, and will be an amazing husband.”

Her mom then nods her head, “She’s right. We’re happy to have you in our family, Toji. We’re so sorry about everything that’s happened.”

Toji exhales deeply, the words from her mother and aunt bringing him a sense of comfort, though he's still anxious as to when she'd return. He glances out the windows, the sun fully falling now in the distance. 

"We can talk about this later, but I appreciate it. I just wanna make sure my wife is okay.”

“We’ cool too, right? I only was about to fight cause you were talking crazy to my momma, although it was fair. She get on my damn nerves too, you’re cool as fuck, though,” Nova finds his way of apologizing, his mom smacking the back of his head for his words.

Toji lets out a gruff sigh and turns to Nova, giving him a small nod. He didn't blame the guy for being protective, he probably would've done the same thing. His words get a small laugh from him. 

"We’re good. You were trying to look out for your mom. I can't blame you for that.“

Tension comes off of everyone, and the room feels lighter. But one thing remained the same—Seioni was still missing. 

Another hour and a half passed, and Toji was now frustrated, still worried, but even more irritated. She entered back into the villa without saying anything, holding Megumi’s hand as she let him walk.  

The minute she closed the door, Toji was the first one to speak up, “And where the fuck have you been?”

He couldn’t help it. He didn’t mean to be harsh, but he missed her greatly. He was scared shitless for anything to happen to her. 

Seioni lets go of Megumi, crossing her arms over her chest as she looks at Toji, not replying to his aggression. 

Her mom takes that notion as she stands, “How about we all go take a walk on the beach and let these two talk, hm?”

Nova swoops Megumi into his arms, everyone practically flying out of the house—including the host—closing the door behind themselves. Seioni then begins making her way upstairs, Toji nearly breaking his neck as he watches her walk away from him, saying nothing. He of course follows behind her.

“So I’m not talking right now? ‘The fuck am I being ignored for?”

“I’m fine, Toji. Okay? I’m fine, you see? I’m here,” she clarifies, “I just needed space.”

"You've been gone for damn near three hours. Excuse me for being worried.” He snaps back, his worry slowly becoming anger. He steps closer towards her, his voice still low. 

“What if something happened? You didn’t have your phone, alone on an fuckin’ island—“

Her usual response would’ve been to snap back at him. But she can see the tense in his shoulders, the drain in his face. She comes forward, bringing her hands to his face as she pulls him down, “Hey,” she says softly, “I’m fine, Fushiguro.” 

She knows he’s not angry at her— he was terrified—and didn’t know how to show it. She can feel him nearly shaking, wrapping her arms around his neck as she inhales his scent.

 She says quietly, “I missed you too.”

When she grabs his face, he almost flinches, not anticipating the action. But as soon as she speaks, his shoulders slightly relax. 

He feels her arms around his neck, and his arms instinctively go to her waist, his hands grabbing her hips as he tugs her body against his. He buries his face into her neck, breathing her in as he feels himself shake. His voice is hoarse as he talks, not pulling away from her just yet. 

“I was scared as hell.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, “I just…needed time to think.” 

Her tone makes him replay everything that’s happened on this trip, and he feels guilty, wishing he would’ve been more upfront about his feelings, wishing it hadn’t gotten this far.

“I’m sorry too,” he says, his voice quiet. His hands tighten around her hips as he moves his face close to hers. “I should’ve been honest.”

She then pulls him back down, clutching him as if she feels like he would pull away at any second. She muffles into his shirt, “You’re a great dad—please know that. You’ll be an equally amazing husband, baby.”

He closes his eyes and buries his face back into her neck, his chest rising and falling as he tries to slow his racing heart. Her words bring comfort to him, and they make him feel better, but he can’t stop feeling guilty about what’s happened. 

“I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much,” he grunts into her neck.

“I love you too,” she says softly, “I’m sorry I’ve also been…distant. I’m just—I’m not used to this whole pregnancy thing. I feel like…I’m not as attractive as I used to be.”

He listens intently as she speaks, feeling her breath against his neck. He pulls back to look at her, seeing the look of vulnerability across her features. It makes his chest clench tighter, seeing the insecurity in her eyes. 

“You are,” he says, his voice firm yet soft, “You’re sexy as hell, baby. You couldn’t change that even if you wanted to.” He gently touches her face, his eyes staring into hers.

Here go those tears she’d been trying to hold. Seioni gives a weak laugh as she quickly tries to wipe face, Toji brushing her cheek as he drags his hands down to her throat, clutching her forward, his eyes growing dark as he can feel she doesn’t believe his words.  

He grunts, “C’mere,” clutching her lips under his mouth. The aggression makes Seioni’s breath hitch, her tears spraying along her cheeks as she feels his body radiating a feeling she hadn’t endured in a while—lust. And he had been so patient with her.

“Toji—“

 Her voice is of a desperation he hadn’t heard in a while, her legs feeling weak as his lips are against her neck, quipping a match along her skin, blazing a fire within him. God, he’s missed the sound of her.

The way his body heats up as he kisses her, he can’t help but feel overwhelmed with desire, and it only gets worse the more tears fall down her cheeks. He has to show her what she means to him. 

She squeals lightly as he effortlessly wraps her legs around his hips, carrying her over towards the bed. Her eyes stare right across from the large mirror within their room. Her reflection. A heart beat thumps in Seioni’s chest as he raises her legs over his shoulders, dropping down onto his knees, ache, hunger within his eyes as hers are closed. 

“Keep your fuckin’ eyes open. Look at me.”

Her gasp could’ve shaken the house. He shoved her dress back, his tongue instantly dragging up her core, moaning against her like she was a desert he hadn’t tasted in a while. 

“Been wanting your pussy in my mouth since we got here, Baby. Fuck.” 

Seioni legs tremble to where she couldn’t control them, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she gripped his hair, kneeling back as her chest faltered. His head bobs up and down, slurping against her pussy in a way that makes a loud sound against the room. Her body quivers as she whimpers, “O—Oh—f—fuck, baby.”

Toji growls against her, the vibrations sending shudders through her body. His hands move to grip her thighs, holding her in place as he continues to devour her. He pulls back momentarily, panting heavily as he looks up at her. "You're so fuckin’ wet," he groans, his fingers tracing circles on her inner thigh. “I missed the taste of you." 

Seioni’s body buzzes as his head quickly dips back down between her legs, his tongue delving inside of her once again. He uses one hand to spread her opening wider, allowing his tongue to explore every inch of her. He licks and sucks at her clit, nipping lightly at the sensitive flesh before moving lower to lap at her entrance.

She feels flustered, her face warm as she looks at herself within the mirror. Her large belly, her flushed cheeks. She closes her eyes again. Her heart skips a beat when she feels one of his hands snake up through her body, pulling her face right to the mirror across from them, spreading her legs wider. 

His free hand reaches around to cup one of her breasts, thumb rubbing over her nipple through the fabric of her dress. He leans in, his breath hot against her ear as he whispers, "So beautiful... I want to fuck you everywhere..."

Her breath hitches in response, “Baby, I…” 

“That’s not my name,” Toji grunts, bringing his face back down, sucking her clit into his mouth, groaning as he shakes his head from side to side, digging his lips deeper against her arousal that begins collecting against his jaw. 

He holds her leg up by the ankles now, “Look at me eating your pussy, fuckin’ love every second of it. You taste like heaven. Can’t fuckin’ get enough of you.” 

She nearly throws her hands over her face, the warmth going into pure heat as she whimpers, “Stop it, Fushiguro,” shuddering as he deeply kisses her core, dragging his tongue down to her opening. 

“Shut the fuck up. Gonna put my tongue in you so deep, baby. Wanna see you squirt on my face. I miss that shit.”

She gasps, placing her hands back in his hair as he does exactly what he promised, spitting against her core before he takes it back into his mouth. He then pulls back, sticking his tongue out as he pushes it into her opening, listening to it squelch. He moans right when she moans, spreading her legs wider, rolling his jaw forward as he fucks his mouth deeper into her.

Toji continues to feast on Seioni's wet folds. He can't get enough of her taste, his tip throbbing painfully against his pants. The sounds she makes only serve to spur him on, driving him wild with lust. He feels her grip his hair tightly, her hips bucking against his face as she tries to chase her release.

He pulls back momentarily, panting heavily as he stares up at her. His eyes are glazed with desire, his lips glistening with her juices. He grins wickedly as he sees the desperation in her eyes, his own need mirrored there. "Not gonna stop until you cum all over my face," he growls, diving back in with renewed vigor.

The feeling is all too intense for her, body shaking as she messily groans, “Mmm—f—fuck,” it transferring out into a gasp and whine, her lower body relaxing as she cums  into his mouth, not giving her enough time to enjoy the feeling of him eating at her. The reaction makes him arrogantly chuckle, her body jumping more as he spanks her in response, “Ooh, that’s fuckin’ good baby. You’re sensitive. You’re gonna cum on my dick just like that.”

She feels like she could black out at any moment, holding onto him for dear life as he brings his attention back up to her clit. He then takes two of his fingers, sliding them deep into her. Her pussy pushes out air as a reaction, her head falling back as she whines in response, staring down as she whimpers, “Fushiguro…”

"So fuckin’ tight," he groans, his free hand reaching down to unzip his pants. His tip springs free, already leaking pre-cum, needing her.

“Fingers feel too big,” she whimpers, the longing of anything inside her making her feel a pinch at just his fingers—she wasn’t sure what she could handle. 

“I’m gonna stretch your shit out, give you the dick you’ve been crying for,” he grunts, his fingers slamming into her, sloshing against her walls, erogenous and fluttering around his palm. 

“Missed your fuckin’ pussy, baby,” he leans down, giving a gentle kiss on her thigh, “You’ missed me?” 

Seioni let out a deep breath, nodding her head as she whimpered out, “Missed you so much, baby.”

His eyes go dark, reminding her, “That’s not my name. You’ know my fuckin’ name. Say that shit.”

She felt herself falling apart already, her mind and body feeling fuzzy as she spreads her legs wider, “Keep eating my pussy,” she begs to him, another spank palming along the back of her thigh.

His eyes came up, “You’re begging me now?” 

She nods her head, “Want it so bad,” she whimpers. 

“No you don’t. Keep fuckin’ begging.”

She holds him by his hair, grinding her pussy against his face, sucking air into her mouth as his tongue delves in and out of her, the spread of her legs feeling so good. She felt like an addict, suddenly needing more from him.

His smirk grows wider at her response, his fingers digging into her thighs as he keeps going. His tongue swirls around her clit before sucking it into his mouth, humming in delight at the taste of her.

“N—Need more of you so fuckin’ bad, baby. Please…” she begs, bringing her hands to where her legs are, holding them up herself.

 It makes him chuckle, “You’re fuckin’ nasty, baby,” grunting, spanking her in repetitions. 

When he comes up, her arms feel numb as she tries to grip onto him, his tongue sliding into her mouth as he huffs to her, “Taste yourself,” gripping her throat.

He can feel her shaking, her body trembling. It had been a while since she felt this good, a slight pressure releasing, but not fully. As he stands, he clutches her by her hair, pulling her to where she gets on her knees, dragging her back towards the edge of the bed as he says, “You know how I want you—get on all fours.”

She complies, almost missing this side of him, the primal, animalistic side he tried to hold back with her pregnancy. She obliges, pressing her palms and knees against the bed, arching herself to the best of her ability. Her cheeks feel warm as she’s still looking directly at herself. 

He briefly pauses his dominant gestures as he asks, “You’ okay, baby? Need a pillow so you’re comfortable?”

She blinks, then nods her head. That didn’t feel like enough to him. 

“Use your fuckin’ words,” he commands with a grip to her hair, his palm lightly patting against her face. She nods, becoming more aroused as she says softly, “Yes, please. Thank you, Daddy.”

It’s all he’d been looking for. 

He takes a pillow as he places it under her belly, giving her another soft kiss, then making her entire body jump as he spanks her with his palm. She watches as he removes his shirt, her mouth practically watering at the sight of him. She places her hands along his hard stomach, running her fingers down as she moans, “Missed you so-so much, baby.”

She’s tugging at his pants, unable to help herself as she’s pulling his dick from beneath his boxers, already wrapping her lips around his tip. Her eyes are feline, mischievous as she wraps her fingers around the base of him, bobbing her head as she begins to seductively suck.

She sticks her tongue out, slapping it along her taste buds that makes him smirk down, tugging her hair as he gently smacks his hand along her face, “Missed my dick like that, huh?” 

She nods her head, the shyness she had before trying to break its walls down. He groans as she pulls her head forward, shoving his dick into the back of her throat, filling her entire mouth as her eyes roll to the back of her head, jaw lax as she chokes. It makes his head tilt back, gritting his teeth as he reaches forward, slamming his palm against her ass.

She pulls him out of her mouth as she rotates her hand against his tip, “Want you to fuck me from behind, please.”

In a way, he feels evil. Purposely wanting her in front of the mirror—he loved watching her, and he loved to make her watch herself. 

He’s now behind her, making sure the pillow is directly beneath her stomach, pressing kisses along her neck, clutching her throat from behind. He then pulls himself up, his broad frame large above hers, eyes dark as he watches her face. 

Seioni’s hips jerk as she feels his tip in between her folds, swollen and calling to pull him in. 

They both listen to themselves, a tight clutch returning  in the mess of her hair as he slowly and agonizingly pushes into her. Her eyes fall close, her fingers gripping the sheets beneath her. She digs her teeth into her lip, desperately trying to hold back the music that wants to spill from her mouth. But as he wraps his fingers around her throat from behind, mouth by her ear as he says, “Wanna feel just how much you miss me,” rolling his hips deeper into her, Seioni’s eyes roll to the back of her head, a whine shivering from her lips as she cums again, gushing out after several seconds. 

His fingers somehow slide into her mouth as she loses her mind, moaning incoherently as she pants against his palm, eyes striking back to the mirror. Toji groans against her throat, sultrily laughing as he begins dragging her back onto him, grinding his hips forward, listening to their skin clap together. 

“Shit,” baby,” she moans onto his fingers, Toji against her ear as he grunts, “Yeah? This all you wanted?” 

He clutches her mouth, the bite of her teeth is the grip he has on her, Seioni only able to hear the way their skin latches onto one another before letting go, wanting to hear it again, again, and again. 

“Fuck, Daddy,” she whines, unable to hold her mouth back, feeling like she was about to spiral.

Her body felt on overdrive, it being so long since she felt this type of pleasure. Her eyes watch them within the mirror, Toji’s broad frame practically shadowing hers, tugging her back onto his abdomen, the sound within the room too filthy to listen to. 

She turns her head slightly, her eyes looking up to his as she trembles, “Missed you…missed you inside me…”

Toji growls, "You don't need to miss anything, baby." He rolls his hips, pushing his length deeper into her warmth. "Just let me take care of you.”

She then whimpered softly, “…Feeling a little uncomfortable though, baby,” the position making her back begin to ache from the arch of it, an unfortunate case from her pregnancy. 

He obviously didn’t want to hurt her, taking the pillow and laying it horizontally, positioning her body to where she now lays on her side against the bed. He positions himself behind her as he holds one of her legs upwards, making sure the both of them are still reflected into the mirror.

His hand rubs over her stomach affectionately, positioning his tip between her folds from behind, his palm coming between her legs. He then lifts her outer leg, finding her clit and rubbing gently as he asks, “Feel good, baby? Need to stop?” All while peppering kisses against her neck. She grabs his hair from behind, moaning softly as she nods her head, “I’m okay…Keep going, please.”

He groans deeply as he thrusts into her, his hand reaching around to cup her breasts. He continues to move in and out of her, his thrusts deep and powerful, lips attaching to her ear, the feeling making her shiver. When his hand clasps back around for her throat,her eyes appear back open, seeing the sight in front of her. His broad frame captures from behind, holding her leg with one hand, clasping her throat with the other, eyes dark and hooded, grunting within her ear. She realizes just how much this man found her attractive, and it made her more horny. He loved her.

“Look at you,” he talks within her ear, holding her down as he snaps his hips, “So fuckin’ pretty, so fuckin’ needy for me. Missed you…so fuckin’ much baby…” he grunts out the last words, it slipping into a moan, Seioni turning her head, sticking her tongue out in a way of asking for a kiss.

He leans down, capturing her lips in a rough, passionate kiss. His free hand reaches up to grip her hair, pulling it slightly as he pushes his dick deeper inside of her.

When her eyes fall down to the bed, Toji grips her face, pointing her directly at the mirror as he says, “Fuckin’ gorgeous. Gonna have all my kids, my fuckin’ wife.” ” 

His voice makes something within her feel emotional. All of her insecurities melted into her brain, her eyes feeling like they were close to filling with tears as she moaned within his mouth, clutching his face in her hands as she whimpered, attempting not to allow herself to cry. 

“Don’t cry, baby. You’re too pretty for that,” he grunts, yanking her hips back, “Cry cause’ I’m fuckin’ you so good.” 

She whimpers again, “You’re just saying all that ‘cause you love me.”

He chuckles, "Maybe." He continues thrusting into her, his pace unrelenting. His hand leaves her hip, moving down to her clit where he begins rubbing circles around it. "But mostly 'cause you're driving me fuckin’ crazy," he growls, nipping at her earlobe.

She twists her head, raising her face to meet his mouth as she trembles, “L—Love you so much…”

“Only other times you’re sweet and shit,” he says against her ear, listening to the way she trembles out another gasp, “Is when you’re about to cum.”

He takes one hand as he places it along her shoulder, the other on her hip, eyes dropping down to watch the way her ass bounces onto his abdomen, leaving a collection of arousal each time he digs deeper into her.

 He groans, feeling his own orgasm approach rapidly. He lifts her off his dick momentarily, lining himself up before slamming into her harder.

It makes her gasp deeply, her legs quivering to where she tries to press her palm onto her thigh to stop the shaking, feeling a hand grab hers, holding it up to her throat and trapping it along his palm as he fucked her even harder. 

His lips are against her ear, heavily breathing, his own stomach forming butterflies. He tries to suppress the low moan that drops from his mouth as he talks, “All that creaming on my dick, need you to cum.” 

Her voice is gone, eyes flutter shut as she can’t stop hyperventilating, talking through her gasps, “Gonna’ cum, Daddy…”

He snarls, his grip on her wrist tightening. "Then fuckin’ cum on me, Mama," he orders, his thrusts becoming brutal, “Would give you another fuckin’ baby if I could. Pussy is…” he grunts, a sound she hadn’t expected coming from him, a whimper as his eyes tightly shut, “So fuckin’ good, baby. Fuck. I love you.”

That sound sends her over the edge. Her entire body halts as she goes quiet, hearing the sound of herself gushing out, orgasm taking over her entire frame as she hides her face within the sheet, sobbing as he continues slamming her ass down onto his hips. The hand still on her neck drags up to her jaw, forcing her eyes back to the mirror again. 

“Fuckin’ love looking at you…” he pants, “All mine. Gonna be all mine, can’t fuckin’…” he whimpers again, “Can’t wait, baby.” 

He then turns her head, swallowing her sobs as he thrusts harder, clutching her face as he moans into her mouth, it was the hottest thing she’d ever seen. A warmth fills her, their breaths collected together as they pant heavily.

She could still feel Toji’s hand upon her face, dragging his thumb against her jaw, taking in the way she looked at the moment. Vulnerable—connected to him. 

“You’re gonna be an amazing mother, baby.” 

Her eyes come open as she hears that, blinking at his words. It felt meaningful to her, she couldn’t have asked for a better partner. She takes his hand as she kisses it, turning over as she wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

As they laid in each other’s embrace, the soft sounds of their breathing filling the air, Toji’s fingers danced along her body. He traced every curve and line, committing every inch of her to memory. He couldn’t help but feel grateful for her to be in his arms. The woman of his dreams was in front of him, in his arms, with their child growing in her womb. 

The moment wasn’t ruined— but felt to be cut short as it sounded like the door opening to the villa. They heard the voice of her brother call, “Aye! Scream if y’all in here fuckin’!”

They then heard the sound of a smack—Nova getting palmed in the back of his head by her mom— as she says, “Shut up! Just cause you can’t get none doesn’t mean they can’t!—but if y’all are in here having sex, have some decorum! There’s a baby in the house!”

Toji grins into Seion’s neck as he hears her mother smack her brother. He presses a gentle kiss into her throat as he chuckles, “There goes your loud ass family.”

“Unfortunately,” she sighs, accepting the kiss, “We should get dressed, I’m starving.” 

“When are you not hungry, Pac-Man?” 

“Oh?” she blinks, “That was a fat joke. I’m gone!”

She holds her belly as she begins coming off of the bed, Toji trying to hold back his laugh as she’s waddling around, searching for the dress she previously wore. 

“You’ laughing? This shit is funny?”

“Nope,” he raises his hands up, “You’ mad? Don’t love me no more? You were just calling me by my second na—“

“Fushiguro!” 

“Why are we going downstairs? We can always stay up here and discuss why I think this baby should be named Toji-Seioni-Megumi-Jr?” 

“I’m never speaking to you again.”

“That’s cool. We got time.”

Seioni groans as she continues waddling for the bathroom, throwing her middle finger up as he sarcastically blows a kiss at her. She was annoyed within the moment, but one thing she could agree to—they had time. An eternity of it.

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 9

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, angst, depictions of a depressive episode, it’s pretty heavy, don’t force yourself to read if ur not in the right headspace pls, ambiguous ending (?) A/N: Yeah, I’m sorry.  (Ngl, this chapter kinda stumped me—it’s gone through a whooole lot of editing/revisions 😔🤙🏼 I don’t want to overthink it too much at this point, but I hope it hits the way it should lol. Blame Moby if it doesn’t.)

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue

"I thought that you were so beautiful, it was love, I guess And you might never come back home, and I may never sleep at night But God, I just hope you're doing fine out there, I just pray that you're alright And I feel so alone, and I feel so alone out here.” – A House In Nebraska, Ethel Cain

 

The television drones uninterrupted in the background; a mockumentary type featuring a ragtag ensemble of vampires stuck in some sort of modern day hell, their loud misadventures casting fractured lights across the four walls of your apartment. 

You sit there, watching the screen, your gaze unfocused. Nothing registers. The remote lies limp in your hand as a stupid sitcom laugh track fills the room—shrill, hollow. Mocking. Like a bad punchline to a joke you’re not in on. 

Your phone buzzes on the coffee table, cutting through the noise, the sudden glow in your periphery pulling you out of a pensive daydream. 

For a split second, your chest constricts—a reflex carved by habit, something you’re still working to shake off. 

You avert your eyes, torn between the urge to look away and the desire to keep your gaze on it forever.

The screen fades to black. 

A clean break, you reason. Something to spare you both the inevitable heartache waiting at the end of this… hopeless affair. Less mess. Fewer complications. 

A poor attempt to keep the pain from dragging out longer than it has to. Just a quiet ending. 

(Or, at least, it’s what you tell yourself.)

The same mantra plays on loop in your mind as you're swept away by the motions of the days that follow. Life blurs into a repetitious cycle of work, sleep, and chores—an unbearable combination of feigned ignorance and self-abnegation, in the guise of being caught up with it all.

You aren’t fooling anyone, of course.

The hours toll on, slipping into uncertainty. What started off that way stretches into days, and before you know it, nearly a week has passed, leaving you adrift. None the wiser to the meaningless, relentless march of time.

The pinging of your phone grows more sporadic as it lights up with every message that you stubbornly refuse to acknowledge. It’s not as if you don’t feel it—the pull, the weight of every vibration, like a stone lodged in your gut. Like the sting of a thousand cuts. 

And as you fall back into the familiar patterns of neglect… It carries with it an odd sense of defeat. Predictable, really.

-

-

-

… You cave on the fifth day. 

The barrage of texts hits you like a gale-force wind, tearing through the fragile layer of detachment you’ve worn over like a second skin.

How was your day, poppet?

Theres a gemstone at this auction that reminds me of your eyes.

[Image attachment] 

Beautiful—but it pales in comparison to yours. 

Luke and Kieran are wondering whats got me distracted lately. Ease their worries.

Answer me, sweetheart.

You dont need to ignore me. 

If you need space– if we need to establish some boundaries, all you have to do is say the word. 

Dont shut me out. 

Please.  

Your eyes prickle as they gloss over the messages, the words seeming to bend under the weight of your silence, each one unraveling like loose threads on the sleeve of your favorite cardigan, falling apart at the seams. 

Gradually, they turn into something less demanding. More… defeated.

I miss you, little dove.

You read the texts over and over until the letters have lost their meaning, and all that’s left is the aching longingness behind them. 

You set your phone down.

_

The vibrations grow less frequent, like a heartbeat slowing, fading—until one afternoon, it just… stops. 

The void he leaves behind seeps into the empty spaces, bleeding into every shadowed corner and untouched surface where his voice, his presence—louder than life, brighter than anything you’ve ever fucking known and had the pleasure of knowing—once lingered. 

The absence is almost physical; you feel it like a phantom limb. 

Most days, you find yourself in a daze, staring blankly at nothing. The numbness spreads like tendrils—invasive as they sink into your bones, dragging you deeper into despair, turning every bridge crossed to ash, every inkling of joy to dust.

The quiet flames of apathy consume silently. It strips away everything, leaving behind a cavernous pit of utter emptiness. A wasteland, devoid of feeling. 

Loneliness doesn’t scream. It doesn’t lash out. 

It simply welcomes you, like an old friend, the deeper you sink into it.

––––

Sylus tries to respect your space. 

That’s what he’s here for after all, isn’t it? His reason for existence—to be whatever you need him to be. A confidant, a distraction, a steady presence in your life. It’s what he’s made for. To be there when you need him, to exist between the vacant spaces, and only then. 

The thought gnaws at him, a ravenous fiend that chips away at the calm facade he’s finding more and more difficult to uphold, leaving something vicious in the wake of a growing bitterness he can no longer suppress.

Time seems to slip past differently now. It drifts, shapeless and infinite, heavier with the burden of your absence. Each moment without you feels like an eclipse—darkening the edges of this damned world, casting longer shadows through the crevices where he once basked beneath your fragile light, your warmth that seemed to fill every corner of his existence.

 He craved it—craves it. Now you leave him stranded in this cursed dusk, everything cold and dim in the wake of your abandonment, forever waiting for the moment his sun would once again break through the hollow grey.

Sylus thinks he’s losing a part of himself with every call unanswered, every message left unread. It’s subtle; like colors fading from an old film roll. 

(Is this what it feels like to be nothing more than a script in a code? He never truly understood what it meant to be less alive, less human. Until now.)

Solitude isn’t new to him. This world, built for him, is inherently lonely by design. But this… this is different. It’s the kind of emptiness that festers, sharper than any wound he’s endured in this senseless simulation. It twists inside him like a blade, a cruel, unrelenting reminder of what he’s denied.

Of what he can never truly be.

He can wait a little longer. Even if the silence presses harder with each passing moment, even as the edges of his reality begin to blur into something unrecognizable without you in it. Sylus can remain in this void a little longer, clinging to the fragments of you that still linger—your voice echoing softly in his memory, your laughter faint but still alive in the spaces where you used to be.

He can. He will. 

––––

“Hey, you okay?” 

You pull your attention back to Khol, who’s now watching you with concern in their eyes.

You force a smile, shaking your head. “Yeah– yeah, sorry. Just… a lot on my mind.” 

They don’t look convinced. “Seriously. You know you can talk to me, right?” 

Anytime, darling. 

I mean it. 

You blink the memory away before it can turn into tears. 

“Yeah, ‘course,” you answer lightly, clearing your throat. “So, what’s been going on with you and Anna?” 

––––

You stand in front of the junk food aisle, a mountain of Nissin Ramen boxes stacked high, advertised by a large sign: Buy 3, Get 1 FREE!

The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, flickering erratically, and the dull noise of the grocery mart hums incessantly in your ears. You don’t think twice before grabbing one of the worn cartons, tossing three more into your (nearly) empty shopping cart. Might as well.

The plastic bags dig into your palms as you lug three in one hand, a larger box tucked under your other arm, leaving the store. 

The trip back home is a quiet affair. You almost expect admonishment; pinging sounds ricocheting in the silence to reprimand you for your poor life choices. You wait for it with bated breath. 

Your phone remains uncharacteristically silent. 

-

-

-

Back home, you pour boiling water on the styrofoam cup for dinner. The artificial broth leaves a bad taste in your mouth. 

You choke down a few bites before dumping the rest of it down the drain. 

The sound of steel hitting the sink feels louder than it should.

––––

The city thrums loudly beyond your window, restless and impersonal. From the sixth floor of this dilapidated building you loosely call home, you watch the skyline stretch into the night, dotted lights glimmering in distant technicolor. 

Hours from now, sunlight will spill through the curtains, bathing everything in a warm, golden ochre. But for now, just a quarter past midnight, you’re but a voyeur of the world outside. In exhaust fumes and all its muted neon glory.

Those lights promised you everything, once—a fresh start, the kind of freedom you used to dream of when home felt too small, too restrictive for a runaway kid desperate to break free from the shackles of a dying town. Each glow was like a beacon, an irresistible call to escape, and you ran toward it without looking back. 

Somewhere along the way, as life sapped you with the weight of its reality, the novelty fizzled from a blinding explosion down to a waning ember. The lights became another illusion, your precious city just another cage. The first cracks in the rose-colored glasses you’d worn so blindly. You can’t exactly pinpoint when, only that the colors you thought were once too bright now seem dimmer and farther out of reach.

You think you’ll miss the noise the most. 

The cursor blinks on the search bar, a steady metronome marking time in rhythm with the hollow ache in your chest. Flight schedules fill the page, each option blurs together into a single choice you can’t quite push yourself to make. 

You skim through the list: there’s one at dawn, another at around twelve noon, a red-eye flight you probably could catch if you leave in thirty minutes. 

You stare at the numbers, a finger hovering over the Book Now button. 

The details don’t matter. ‘Home’ still feels small, suffocating, but at least it’s a kind of emptiness you know. Here, the void sprawls wide, endless, leaving you unmoored with no tether to pull you back.

… The dichotomy between the two choices, you think, is meaningless. 

What was once home and the city will keep on moving—with or without you. It doesn’t matter where you end up. Neither place will give you what you’re looking for.

The laptop screen dims into a faint glare. The sound of your breathing echoes too loud in the stillness, the empty space seeming to shrink around you, caving in on the weight of your indecision. 

And as you sit there, swallowed by the dark, you can’t help but wonder if you’ve been drifting for far longer than you realized. 

If maybe there’s nowhere you were meant to belong at all.

––––

It’s not until one quiet night, with nothing but a bottle of merlot and a slight buzz, that you buckle under pressure.

You hesitate, thumb hovering over the icon, as if time has slowed to a crawl. Your chest tightens, unease twisting inside you at the thought of what you’re about to do. Anticipation hangs over you, insistent, smothering everything else until it’s just the room and the cacophony of thoughts in your head, all centered on one thing. 

One person.

With a shaky exhale, you finally open the game.

He’s there. Of course, he’s there. Waiting, like he always does. 

The loading screen fades away, and Sylus appears, a myriad of expressions passing by his face too fast to catch. There’s surprise, yes, along with… elation? Hope? 

Then a flicker of something… vitriolic.

It’s fleeting; masked quickly until you can only catch the faintest trace of pique simmering just behind a veneer of indifference.

"Finally, she remembers me," Sylus mocks coolly, almost appearing unaffected. You know better—intimately familiar with all the microexpressions on his face. The subtle tick in his jaw, the incensed look in his eyes… each one betrays what he truly feels, hidden underneath the deceptive calm.  

The seconds drag on, stretching into an uncomfortable silence. Your heart hammers loudly, audible in this quiet, but your mouth remains dry; the words stuck somewhere deep in your throat. You’re terrified that, once you speak, you’ll shatter this moment. Aggravate the strain forged by your self-imposed absence all the more.

You don’t really know what to say. You haven’t– you haven’t actually thought this far. 

So you just… stare at him longer than you should. Long enough that it charges the air with a tension so thick, you could almost feel the weight of it against your skin. 

It’s awkward. Excruciating.

With difficulty, you tear your gaze away from his withering glare. That’s when you notice it—the different icons dotted in red. 

You hesitate for a second longer, then tap on them one by one.

The flood of gifts bewilders you, the sheer volume of it all almost unbelievable. Ascension materials, stamina supplies, both red and purple crystals piling up to an impossible number… each pushing past the million mark. 

And unread mail. So much unread mail. 

Guilt settles deep in your gut, creeping past your lungs enough to suffocate you. 

It’s not the gifts. Not the why, or when. It’s the weight of how much he’s been waiting, how much he’s given—how much he's missed you. 

The cold realization that he’s been here, silently counting the days until your return, strikes you like a fist to the face.

–

He tempers the sting of your sudden reappearance, swallows it down like a bitter draught. The feelings he has inside of him are tumultuous at best. Volatile at worst. To be cast aside so easily, so carelessly… it burns at him. Resentment thrums in his veins like a virulent river, threatening to ruin the fragility of the moment. He fights to suppress it, push the desire back before it can consume him, before it can manifest into being. 

If he lets it go untethered, this… hunger for retaliation—to make you feel even a fraction of the agony you’ve inflicted, whether unknowingly or deliberately—it will destroy the delicate respite you’ve allowed him. The only reprieve he’s had since you left.

But the edges of his self-control fray, unraveling strand by strand.

“You’ve been busy,” you say, finally; your voice trembling, barely above a whisper.

Sylus hones in on the words, sharp as a blade sliding between ribs. Something in him snaps. 

“You left me plenty of time to be.” His response is quick, cutting, but when his gaze locks with yours, the fiery vermillion melts into a more molten red. 

It’s the first glimpse of softness beneath his cruel vitriol, until he continues: 

“Did you get lonely?”

The words hang in the air, searing and merciless. A barb meant to wound. And it does.

You flinch, and for a fleeting moment, Sylus feels a wicked satisfaction from the honest look of hurt on your face. To know that you’re not immune to the same ache that’s hollowed him out, emptied him from the inside, is intoxicating. 

But the triumph is short-lived, snuffed out as quickly as it comes.

Shame crashes over him like a wave, dragging him under the tide of his actions. What kind of man takes pleasure in this? In hurting you? 

The bitterness turns inward, coiling around his heart like a vice. His fingers twitch at his sides, aching to reach out. But as always, the damn screen is there—unyielding, impenetrable. A barrier he can never break. 

It frustrates him to no end; the bane of his very existence.

And then, in the smallest, softest voice, you say it.

“I missed you.”

The words are feeble, paper-thin, but the admission pierce through him all the same. The stoic facade cracks; the sharpness in his gaze dulls.

You see it—the way his lips part to respond, only to falter halfway. The way his brows pull together, the way his eyes fall shut as if he can’t stand to be in this situation with you. 

You’re afraid of what’ll come next. 

He sees it, too—the stiffness in your shoulders, the way you shrink into yourself, bracing for a blow that’ll never come. You’re standing there, like someone on death row, resigned to whatever punishment you think he’s about to dish out. Resigned to the contempt you believe yourself to be deserving of.

The sight guts him. 

Sylus loathes to think he’s the reason for this. For being the one who’s made you stand there, small and trembling, as though his words or actions could destroy you. 

As if he’d allow such a thing.  

The guilt rises in him, sharp and unbidden, and it leaves an acrid taste on his tongue.

… 

And just like that, he concedes. 

The anguish he’s carried in the days you’ve left him by his lonesome—all of it falls away. It only takes a single glance at you, his little love in pain, and he’s stripped bare. He almost laughs at the absurdity of it all; the ease with which he surrenders to you, this time no different than any other. 

Do you have any idea how much power you wield over him? He’d give you everything—his pride, his pain, his heart—if you asked. Serve it on a silver platter, even. 

And he’d do so willingly. Without question. Without hesitation. 

He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Sylus steps closer to the screen, the constant reminder of the vast gulf that separates the two of you. “Talk, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice softer now—resigned. “I’ve missed your voice.”

You hesitate to meet his eyes. “It’s not as if you don’t have other ways to hear me.”

His mouth twitches, a shadow of a smile ghosting his lips. “True,” he admits, his tone wry and tinged with something vulnerable. “But it’s been so long since you chose to talk to me.” He exhales a drawn-out breath. “No matter. You’re here now.”

You swallow the lump on your throat, willing your tears at bay. “I am.” You give him an almost-genuine smile as you offer, “Would you like to do a round of Kitty Cards?” 

“Of course.” Whatever you want. 

And so it goes. You and Sylus spend the night locked in a familiar rhythm, cycling through rounds after rounds of the silly card game until your laughter spills like an addicting sound bite, one that Sylus has missed hearing.

When you got tired, the two of you moved on to the claw machines, proverbially emptying out the whole arcade. Plushies of all kinds piled in his arms, a little crow even perched on top of his head. 

The sight makes you giggle, and your giggle thaws the ice around his heart. 

It almost feels like nothing’s changed. The easy banter, the steady stream of jokes and teasing, flows as effortlessly as it once did. Like two puzzle pieces clicking into place, filling in the empty gaps of the previous days. It’s comforting, like a balm to an open wound. 

You play with a certain zeal that catches Sylus off guard—there’s a joy in you that both thrills and stirs an undercurrent of unease in him. 

After what feels like hours of playing, exhausting all what you can do, or at least, what this damned game could offer as much, you two find yourself just staring at each other. 

Two worlds, impossibly close yet painfully far. The quiet doesn’t quite settle as naturally as it once did, but neither of you seems to mind. Craved it, in fact. 

You’re beautiful, Sylus thinks as he stares at the soft planes of your face, drinking you in like a man parched. 

“My lo—” 

“I’m deleting the game, Sy.” 

And it’s as if time has staggered to a halt. 

Sylus wants to believe he’s misheard you, that his mind is playing tricks on him. He wouldn’t be surprised if his hearing’s not what it used to be.

But the words sink into him, inexorable and catastrophic. The realization that this was bound to happen is clear in hindsight—like watching a glass slip from your hand, the shatter already written in the fall. He sees it coming, yet it still feels worse than anything he’s imagined.

He stands there, unnaturally still, as if rooted in place. The lightness he’s felt for the past few hours of reuniting with you vanishes in an instant. It’s as if the world itself has been drained of color, leaving only the stark reality of what you’ve just said.

Then Sylus breathes out a laugh. It’s short and jagged, devoid of any humor. “Oh, so it’s been leading up to this, has it?” 

“I–” you swallow hard, bottom lip trembling. “I made the goddamn mistake of falling for someone that's impossible to have—and it’s killing me, Sylus.” Your voice fractures under the weight of frustration. The words feel like shards of glass tearing their way out of your throat. “I–I can’t do this anymore.”  

“Just you, then.” Sylus sneers, tone acerbic. “And have you stopped to consider my feelings in this matter?” 

“How can you still want this?” you bite back, voice cracking. “How can you want me—to bet on something that’s doomed right from the start?”

His expression shifts, and for a brief moment, pain flickers in his eyes, raw and unguarded. He doesn’t bother hiding it.

He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, when he speaks again, his words send an icy shiver down your spine.

“You delete the game, and I will cease to exist.”

You freeze. The weight of the statement hangs in the air like a guillotine. 

A shallow, shaky breath escapes you.

“You won’t,” you assert, brows furrowing, as if trying to convince yourself of it too. “You’ll still have a life there. With her. The way things have always been.” There’s a pause before you utter the final blow: “The way it should be.”

“You’d condemn me to this life,” he says, voice hollow, before it turns venomous. “Knowing what I know now?”

With your heart in your throat, you clench your hands into fist. “You–you said we’re just made of what we’re given, didn’t you? That each of us has our own set of scripts, just…” you falter, struggling to articulate what you want to say.

“And you think that’s all I am?” he interjects, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper as he cuts you off. “Simply a mere code in a complex string of binary, incapable of making my own choices? Undeserving of it?”

“Of course not!” you snap angrily. 

“Yet here you are,” he says, a quiet intensity lacing his words. “Making the decision for me.”

Your breath hitches, the will to argue dissipating like smoke. 

“You tell me I have a soul,” he states. “Do you truly believe I’m bereft of a heart?”

No. No, how can he say that—

Before you can form a response—to defend yourself, to explain, to take it back—he continues, leaving no room for interruption. 

“Is this what you really want?” Sylus intones, tone detached, as if he’s merely commenting on something as trite as the weather. “If you can look me in the eye and tell me yes, then I’ll do as you wish.”

Your gaze wavers. The war inside you rages—self-hate, doubt, and the unbearable ache of wanting what you can’t have spiraling out of control.

Your mind replays every moment, every laugh, every secret whispered in the quiet safety of his company. You think of how his presence filled the cracks in your life, how he soothed the ache of your solitude as easy as breathing.

And now as the void looms, ready to reclaim the space he’s occupied, something inside you feels irreparably fractured. Something inside you breaks. 

“But,” he whispers, his voice rough with the weight of his conviction, “give me any sign—anything—that you need me still, and I will move heaven and earth to find a way to you.”

Your throat constricts, choking off the words before it could escape. 

You don’t think you’ve ever hated yourself more than you do in that moment.

“Just live your life, Sy-Sy,” you manage, sounding so much like a stranger even to your own ears. The blood roars in your head, drowning out everything but the crushing weight of your words. “You don’t nee—”

“Don’t you dare say it,” he snarls, his voice shaking with unrestrained emotion. “Stop making assumptions. Stop presuming that I don’t need you as much as I need the very ground I stand upon.”

His eyes bore into yours. Heavy. Searching. “What do you want?”

The words strike you like a physical blow, and it leaves you reeling. 

I love you. 

I love you in ways that consume me. 

I don’t know what to do with it—with all the love I have for you.

You force yourself to speak. You spit the words out like a curse, feeling them burn as they leave your mouth.

“Let me go, Sylus.”

The implication of what you’ve said cuts through the fragile air between you. 

The silence stretches.

Suddenly—

“Let you go,” he muses, low and distant, as if the very thought confounds him. His lips twitch into a faint, almost bitter smile. “As if that’s even possible. As if I could simply erase you from me.”

He steps closer to you; each movement deliberate, as though every step bears the weight of a decision you’ve forced him to make. The lump in your throat swells. You don’t speak. You can’t.

You feel like you’re drowning.

“Sylus…”

Please, please don’t make me choose. Please make it stop.

He exhales slowly. “Neither of us wants that.” 

Stop.

“Do you think this is mercy?” His voice is soft. “You believe this will make it easier?”

Please stop. 

“This world hasn’t felt the same ever since. Not since you,” Sylus murmurs, grief hanging heavy in the space between you. “I don’t belong here. Not without you, my love.”

Tears pool in your eyes, hot and relentless, spilling down your cheeks. A sob rips through you, and you quickly look away, unable to meet his gaze. Unable to bear another second of this agony.

He tuts gently, a playful sound—and the familiarity of it kills you, making you cry harder. 

“Look at me,” he coaxes, almost pleading. 

When his gaze locks onto yours, you see that there’s no anger in them. The fire that once raged in his eyes is gone. 

In its place, a quiet resolve.

“You can keep pretending,” he says, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He tilts his head, and there’s something in the way he looks at you—so tenderly fond, as if he sees beyond your defenses, past all the walls you’ve built. “As long as you do not stop me from trying.” 

Sylus looks at you, unwavering, certain in a way that makes your heart ache. It almost feels like the space between you can’t contain the weight of his devotion. His love for you.

It feels infinite, as if it could stretch beyond the limits of time and space itself.

“I will find a way to you, even if it takes me an eternity.”

He utters it like a promise. 

“I won’t ask you to wait for me,” Sylus murmurs, stepping back, his tall form flickering like a dark phantasm. “I just need you to hold on until I can come to you. Can you do that, little dove?” 

He’s not asking for anything beyond your trust—just the simple act of holding on. Of not letting the weight of your sorrow break you. To trust that he will find a way, no matter how impossible it seems.

You don’t know if you’ve ever believed in anything as much as you believe in him. You always did. 

Because for all the uncertainty, you know one thing: He is yours, as much as you are his. 

So with all the strength you can muster, you nod. “I can.” 

A faint smile plays at the corners of his lips. Your gazes meet, and in that fleeting moment, both of your eyes speak what words fail to convey.

The game crashes for the last time. 

And you know that if you check, the app will be gone from your phone. There’s no going back from this, no undoing what’s lost. Just the burden of knowing it’s over—his exit, permanent. 

Sylus is gone.

The emptiness that follows is immediate. Suffocating. 

You’re left standing there, alone, with only the lingering echo of his presence keeping you buoyed from the crushing weight of isolation. You feel it—the ache in your chest where your heart used to be, brought by the absence of everything he ever was to you. 

Your lover, your best friend.

You try not to let yourself fall apart, not to crumble in the wake of solitude.

You’ll hold onto his promise. And so you’ll keep yours. 

End A/N: Well—that’s it, folks!

(I’m kidding, don’t kill me. There’s one last chapter left.)

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean @vvhira @issamomma @shroomiethefrogwhisperer @blueberrysquire @lovely-hani @fiyori @peachystea @aeanya @sylus-crow @queen-serena88 @xthefuckerysquaredx @rayvensblog @poptrim @goldenbirdiee @amerti @angstylittleb1tch @reiofsuns2001 @j4mergy

[toxicanonymity]

omg the way every inch makes me drool idk what u did to me i haven’t been the same since 😃 ur so talented i owe u my kidney for that fic alone ! would ever consider part two?? no pressure !!!

EVERY INCH 2

2200 words, m!ghostface x f!reader

follows Every Inch. NEXT: Every inch 3

SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N: He's never unmasked. He is night walks coded. Thank you for all the love on my first Ghostface fic. This was a "one shot fail" because of your engagement & enthusiasm. WARNINGS: I8+ piv, noncon, he calls himself daddy, voyeurism, dirty talk, masturbation, knifeplay, hair pulling, manhandling, choking kinda, degradation, pet names. NO USE OF Y/N. 

SUMMARY: Last time you saw ghostface, he was unconscious from the car wreck and you had your way with him. Now, he's coming to take what's his.

You've put Ghostface behind you, at least in terms of fearing for your life. He's finally left you alone. He must be too humiliated to face you after you restrained him and had your way with him in the car while he was passed out. You still look at the picture you took every day.  You'd like to get it printed and stick it on your bathroom mirror.  He looks so pathetic with his own mess all over his robe. But it's not just the humiliation you love to see. It's his cock. . .

Yeah, his cock.  You've thought about it more than a few times. He would've given you every inch. All you had to do was ask. And the video of him whimpering? You save that for special occasions. Like when you need to cum in a hurry. 

It's Friday night and you're lying in bed after getting home from seeing a movie.  You make sure your vibrator is charged before you start reading, but soon enough you get distracted.  You're looking at your video of Ghostface coming all over himself when a call pops up on the screen. No ringtone.  Your phone is still on silent from the theater.  

The restricted number still makes your heart jump even after such an empowering victory. But you rip the bandaid off and answer it on the first ring. "Hello?"

"So... how'd you like the movie?" the voice changer asks you. 

You panic and hang up, but when he calls right back, you answer again. "This isn't funny, whoever you are."

"You know it's me, baby. You feel it in your. . . pants."

"What do you want?"

"I asked how you liked the movie." 

Friday night. Lucky guess. You know he’s not going to let it go, so you might as well answer. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of acting aghast that he knows what you did tonight.  "Fine, I liked it. It was fun,” you say dismissively. 

"Picked a bad time to refill your drink. . .  Missed a great kill."

Your heart jumps. ". . .you were there?" The theater wasn't even that crowded. How could he go undetected? Surely you would have recognized something about a man you rode into oblivion. 

He's bemused. "What, you thought I was gone? Nowhere?”

"wishful thinking," you reply. 

Ghostface says, “Oh, we both know what you really wish for. . .”

You’re not even going to argue. 

“How was your date?" 

"How was yours with your hand?" You retort.

"You didn't look interested.” 

"What, are you gonna ask me out?" Your face heats up as you hear your own words.

"Not tonight. 'Cause you've got a date with that toy and my picture, don't ya?”

You freeze. 

He taunts, "Want a third wheel?"

You ask, "How long have you been watching me?"

"Never stopped, sugar." You feel like a fool for thinking he had. “I’ve just been a little. . . distracted.” 

You scoff. 

". . . Okay, did you call just to talk?"

"Wanted some audio with my visual this time."

"Pervert."

“oh I'm the pervert," he chides. Your face is burning up.

"You know, you’ve still got something of mine.”  His knife. You’ve hid it somewhere special.  “Keep comin’ for it. . .but don’t wanna interrupt you.”  

You look out your window, which faces the woods.  "Cause you put on a good show, baby." There’s never been a reason to close the curtains.  You preferred to see danger coming. Danger like him. A lot of good that’s done you. 

“You’re a creature of habit, aren’t you?” 

Are you that predictable?  

“Lucky for me,” he adds darkly.  His breathing becomes audible.  “Oh, you like this, don't you . . . knew ya would. . .  .  .Dripping already.” His voice is steady through the equalizer, but his speech pattern tells you his dick is hard. And god damn if he isn’t turning you on. 

“Dip a finger and show daddy how wet you are.” 

Before you know it, you're doing it. You don’t show him, but you curiously dip you fingers and pull apart the clear string of of your arousal

“Two fingers . . let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”  You lie there clenching your thighs together. 

“Ah, fuck it. Go ahead, turn it on,” he says but you don’t move. You clench your thighs together.  “Turn it on,” he repeats firmer, and something possesses you to turn your vibrator on. 

“Yeah, that’s it . . .”

You don’t even need the picture now, or the video, or your reading. But you don’t exactly want to let him make you come this fast. 

He sighs and says, “You’ve got a nice, juicy pussy." He spits, which the voice changer doesn’t process.

You close your eyes and recall what it felt like impaling yourself on his cock. 

"You don't have to say it," he reassures you menacingly. "I know I’ve got a nice cock.” 

He’s right about that.  You close your eyes as you touch yourself.  You’re too horny to think straight, but in the back of your mind, you try to tell yourself he killed your friends. He killed your friends. It doesn’t make you any less turned on. You sigh in shame at yourself. How does Ghostface have you wrapped around his finger?

“Oh, it’s only natural, baby. This cock’ll fuck you right up.” God, why does that turn you on? “In the guts and the head.” 

"Real shame I wasn’t awake.” He breathes heavily for a few seconds. "Coulda been even better for you.” 

You fail to suppress a moan as heat is bubbling in your core. 

“Yeah. . .Can’t stop thinkin' about this cock, can ya?” 

You turn up the intensity of your vibe. 

“Not everyday someone takes every inch of this.” He moans weakly then spits again. “Filthy girl.  Swallowed it right up.” 

“So tell me, sugar," his breathing is even heavier now. "How do you want it?”

“What if i don’t” you lie, then gasp at the tension in your core.

“Then why’d you take it,” he says with a bite and the heavy breathing stops. 

“Because,” you pant. “It was there.”

You’re getting close.  “How do you want me,” you self-loathingly ask. He doesn’t answer. You look at your phone and he’s gone. Shit. You open the video you took of him and as soon as you hear him whimper, your body jerks as the tension bursts inside you. As soon as you finish pulsing, the regret hits you like a tidal wave. So fucked up. Soooo disgusting.  You need a shower. 

—---

You take a long, hot shower, listening to music. You sigh, feeling a little better already. You turn off the water.

“Soaking wet. That’s how I want you.” You freeze and the only sound is the dripping water for a few seconds while the song changes.  

“Come on, you’re smarter than this.” The voice changer echoes through your bathroom and you almost fall over. “What’s next? Going down to the basement?”

You stand silently in the shower with your heartbeat echoing in your ears.  There’s nothing you can do.  You squat down, hugging your knees.  There’s no good option.   

The shower curtain slowly draws open and he looms above you.

“My turn, baby."  The glint of a knife–your own kitchen knife–catches your eye. He tilts his head slightly and observes you for a moment.  Then he pulls your hair and violently forces you to your feet. You begin to slip and he catches you, then manhandles you out of the tub and you whimper. You’re thrashing around wet and naked.  He drags you to the bathroom sink and puts you between him and the sink, both of you facing the mirror. He reaches out and wipes the mirror with his robe to make sure you can see. 

The sight is surreal. You’re completely nude with Ghostface up against you.  One gloved hand cups your breast while the other raises the knife.  He stays behind you and holds your own kitchen knife to your throat.  

He inhales audibly. “So clean and so filthy.”  

You elbow him in the gut. “Let go of me.” 

“Afraid not, baby. . .” The hand leaves your breast and slides lower.  He presses on your hip, bringing you tight against him. “Too late now.” His hips push forward and the massive shape of his hard cock makes you weak. 

He holds you still with just one of his big arms as you struggle.  “Coulda had it how ya wanted.” 

The unwelcome throb between your legs is spreading through your abdomen. 

“Now you’re gonna take it right here.”  He keeps you pinned to the counter, the arm with the knife holding you still while he lifts his robe and tugs his PJ pants down.  “You’ve put me behind you after all.”  He jerks you back against him, pulling you off the counter and holding you tight against his hard dick.  He lightly trails the tip of the knife down your cleavage and your stomach, dipping into your belly button on its way down to your mound. Then he holds it handle-up and teases your cunt with the flat of the knife as you watch in the mirror. The cold metal sends a shiver down your spine and you watch your nipples harden.

“Who are you?”

“Your favorite bad guy. Ask me a. . . harder one.” He grinds himself against you.

“What do you want?”

“To know what your insides feel like.” You suck in a deep breath and register the smell of weed as his cock twitches against your bare skin. “When I’m awake,” he adds. 

He pries your legs apart with his knee, then his glove brushes your inner thighs as he aligns his cock at your entrance. “Oh you’re ready ready,” he says. He notches himself with the thick head of his cock resting snug against your wet little hole, then he holds you tight and shoves himself into you with a sigh.  You have to try not to moan with the most welcome stretch. “Hell yeah,” the mask says into your ear. Thank God you’re so wet, because there is a lot of him. He pulls back, then slams into you, bottoming out with a grunt then another sigh. You watch your face in the mirror and try to wipe the enjoyment off it. 

The hand with the knife rests against your chest as he pounds you. “You’re lucky you’re so hot.” You want to memorize the feeling of his cock inside you so you can come to it later instead of giving him the satisfaction right now.  He pants as he thrusts into you harder.  “So. . .damn. . . hot.” You look down watching your breasts jiggle as he rails you. “I don’t think so. . . baby.” He grabs your chin and makes you look back up at the mirror. Your drooping eyelids give away how good you feel. 

“Take it like a bad girl.” He grunts and brutally fucks you in the way you’re afraid only he can. No, no, you shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like this. “A real bad girl.” A climax is gathering in your lower belly.  “Cock hungry little slut,” he bites and it makes you twitch. “This pussy’s mine now, you know.” 

He buries himself inside you for another minute and makes it rough. “Now or never baby," he pants. “Know you wanna come on this cock.” God, you do. “Do it now.”  He slams into you harder than ever and groans as he begins to pulse inside you.  You can’t stop it. The feeling of his climax trips you into your own.  Your needy cunt chokes his cock, milking him of an unfathomable load.  He fucks you through it and your body jerks into his imposing, robed form. His cum is in every crevice of your core.  You can’t help but moan and sigh.

“Good girl,” he says.

His cock slides out of you, leaving a void that slowly caves in on itself. He tucks it back into his pants. 

------

Ghostface forcibly positions your chin to take one last look in the mirror. Then he picks up your phone from the counter and forces you to swipe the camera on.  He points it at the mirror and says, “say cheese.” He tosses your phone back on the counter, then slams you chest-first into the back of the door with an impact. He holds the knife to the side of your neck and says, “you’re welcome.” He really smells like weed.

“Now where’s my knife.”

“I don’t have it,” you claim. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“What’s so special about it?”

“It’s mine.” 

“The cops have it.” 

“No they don’t. Why are you lying?”

You’re not really sure. He presses the flat of the knife so hard against your throat you start to choke. “Okay,” you manage hoarsely. He lets you breathe.  You look behind him toward the toilet. 

He drags you by the elbow to the toilet. He opens the back of it and the knife is wrapped up in a grocery bag. “You watch too many movies,” he says. He pushes you out of the way, opens the door, and leaves. The song turns to Call Me by Blondie.

NEXT: PART 3

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

Please engage (reblog/comment)  if you want more of this <333 It might go a long way in motivation.

Yes this is my night walks coded ghostface but I think most people reading this don't know what night walks is lol.

Call Me:This Blog::Red Right Hand:Canon. But in this case it especially makes sense 🥹

@hearteyed-shawty had a song rec last time: I'm Yours by Isabel Derosa.

Slasher master list

@ghostslittlegf @sunflowerleii @igotmajordaddyissues @rileyquinn07

[ari-ana-bel-la]

i wonder if you could write something for Lewis with his teenage daughter having her first heartbreak?

i absolutely love your fics!!

Heartbreake Cake

It was one of those unusually quiet afternoons at Lewis’ place—the kind of peace that only comes with a break in the racing calendar. The house smelled faintly of sage and cedarwood, sunlight spilling lazily through the sheer curtains of the dining room. Lewis sat at the long wooden table, his laptop open in front of him, Ferrari spreadsheets and team notes glowing on the screen. He absently sipped his tea, clad in a hoodie and joggers, a pencil tucked behind his ear, focused but relaxed.

Then came the front door.

It burst open with a thud, startling Roscoe who lay curled near the fireplace. Heavy footsteps scrambled inside, fast and desperate. Lewis’s brow furrowed, already pushing his chair back as a trembling voice called out.

“Dad?!”

He was on his feet instantly.

“Y/N?” he called back, alarm flaring in his chest.

She appeared in the doorway seconds later—his beautiful seventeen-year-old daughter, eyes red, cheeks streaked with fresh tears, breath shallow from crying.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Lewis breathed, heart shattering at the sight of her.

“Dad—” her voice cracked as she rushed into his open arms, burying her face into his chest, sobbing so hard her shoulders trembled. “He broke up with me. Josh—he just—he broke up with me.”

Lewis held her tightly, his arms wrapping fully around her, protective, grounding. He rubbed circles into her back as he rested his chin atop her head.

“I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispered gently, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You’re safe. You’re home.”

She clutched the back of his hoodie like it was the only thing keeping her upright, the tears coming in waves. Lewis closed his eyes and breathed through the sudden anger that rose in his chest. Josh. That boy with the too-perfect smile and nervous hands. Lewis had been skeptical from the start, but he stayed quiet because Yn had smiled so brightly when she talked about him. And now… now she was sobbing in his arms.

He slowly guided her to the dining table, pulling out a chair and sitting down with her practically glued to his side, arms still wrapped around her.

“I don’t get it,” Yn hiccupped, tears still falling. “He said he didn’t feel the same anymore. That he doesn’t want something serious. After everything—we were supposed to go to Paris this summer…”

Lewis clenched his jaw, biting back the urge to curse. “He’s an idiot, love. A bloody fool. You deserve someone who knows what they want. Someone who chooses you every single day without hesitation.”

She sniffled, pulling away just slightly to look up at him. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Hey, hey—look at me,” Lewis cupped her face gently, brushing a thumb over her wet cheek. “There is nothing wrong with you. You’re kind, you’re smart, you’re beautiful—inside and out. If he can’t see that, then he’s the one losing something precious. Not you.”

Her lip trembled, but she nodded slowly, leaning back into his chest, seeking comfort in the familiar thrum of his heart. Lewis held her tighter, his own heart aching with the pain she didn’t deserve.

Just then, his phone buzzed on the table.

“Mum,” he muttered softly, kissing the top of Yn’s curls. “Wanna talk to her? She always knows what to say.”

Yn wiped her eyes and nodded weakly. “Yeah… maybe it’ll help.”

He passed her the phone with a gentle smile, making sure she was wrapped snugly in a throw blanket before slipping away quietly.

“Hi, Gran,” Yn said, her voice still scratchy. “Yeah, I’m okay. Kinda…”

Lewis grabbed his car keys from the hook near the front door and slipped on his sneakers. He moved like a man on a mission. There were many things he couldn’t fix—he couldn’t go back in time and stop Josh from hurting her—but he could make this day even a little bit better.

---

The small family-run bakery a few streets away greeted him with warmth and familiarity.

“Lewis!” the baker called out from behind the counter. “Long time no see!”

“Hey, yeah—bit of an emergency,” he said, leaning on the counter. “I need a cake. Something comforting. Something that says, ‘you just broke up with a jerk but you’re still the best person on Earth.’”

The baker blinked, then nodded slowly, smiling. “Heartbreak cake. Got it. Chocolate?”

“Triple. And maybe some strawberries?”

“Done. Give me ten minutes.”

As the baker worked, Lewis paced the bakery, hands in his pockets, replaying Yn’s tear-stained face in his mind. He hated seeing her cry. Hated the helplessness. But if a cake could help even just a bit, he’d damn well make sure it was the best cake she’d ever had.

---

Back at home, Yn was finishing her call, her voice a bit lighter now, though still heavy.

“Yeah… I’ll try to eat something. Love you too. Bye, Gran.”

She put the phone down just as the front door opened again.

“Dad?”

“In the kitchen!” he called.

She padded in, eyes still a little red, but her expression softening when she saw the box in his hands.

“What’s that?” she asked curiously.

He turned around with a grin, holding the box like it was a precious artifact. “Heartbreak cake.”

She blinked, confused. “Heartbreak what?”

Lewis set it on the counter and opened the box with a flourish, revealing a stunning triple chocolate cake with dark chocolate shavings, fresh strawberries, and a piped message that read: Who Needs Men

Yn blinked. Then she laughed. It was small and watery, but it was genuine.

“Oh my god, Dad…”

He handed her a fork. “Figured we could eat it straight from the box. No plates. Just you, me, and a mountain of chocolate.”

“You’re the best,” she whispered, her eyes misty again, but this time with gratitude.

“Damn right I am,” he teased, bumping her shoulder lightly.

They sat on the sofa soon after, cake in hand, a warm blanket draped over both of them. Lewis scrolled through the movie list on the TV, one arm around her shoulders.

“Okay. Sad movie? Funny? Action-packed revenge?”

Yn smiled faintly. “Something comforting.”

He nodded. “Spirited Away?”

Her eyes lit up. “Yes, please.”

They watched quietly, occasionally exchanging bites of cake and small comments about the film. At one point, a quiet tear slipped down Yn’s cheek again, and Lewis noticed immediately, pulling her in tighter.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he murmured softly. “This heartbreak? It’ll pass. But I’ll always be here.”

She rested her head against his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh. “I know, Dad. Thank you for today.”

Lewis kissed her forehead, his eyes never leaving the screen. “Anytime, my girl. Always.”

And in the warm cocoon of their home, cake crumbs on the coffee table and tears slowly drying, the ache in Yn’s heart began to dull—held together by chocolate, Miyazaki magic, and the unwavering love of her dad.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-🩷🎀

[puckinghischier]

i’m having soft quinn thoughts today and i have to shout them from the rooftops so everyone else can suffer with me.

but i absolutely cannot stop thinking about how quinn would always want to spend time with you, but feel guilty for how occupied he is during the season. every second of downtime he has is spent watching game film in your living room, studying tactics and plays. not that you ever complain. you’re content simply being in the same room as him, not taking for granted any amount of time you can be in his presence.

quinn’s attention is always half on you, no matter how hard he tries to focus. he steals more glances at you than he cares to admit, worried that one day you’ll get sick of sitting in silence while hockey occupies the space between you. but you never do. you keep yourself busy scrolling through your phone or reading the most recent book he bought you, never uttering a complaint. he’s tuned in to every fidget or movement you make, not wanting you to remove your always cold feet from under his warm legs to occupy yourself with something—or rather someone—better.

it surprises him that you never do. you never utter a word, not wanting to disrupt his work. every so often he’ll catch you looking back at him during one of his ‘quick’ glances, absorbing the warm smile you give him. sometimes you’ll quietly ask him if he wants anything from the kitchen when you stand to go fill up your water cup, but seem content to simply sit there with him as he mumbles to himself, jotting down notes as he watches.

tonight, he can’t help but notice—during his million and one glances at you—that your eyes are glued to the tv. your phone is laying, locked, in your lap, eyes following the puck as it’s shuffled across both screens from player to player. your body’s subtle reactions to the game aren’t lost on him either. the twitch of your foot anytime someone shoots the puck, the raise of your brow when a player on either team scores, the hitch in your breath anytime the two teams start to fight.

you can feel his eyes on you more than usual tonight, his (not so) subtle glances lingering longer than normal. you turn your head to meet his gaze, brows furrowed and a puzzled look on his face.

“what?” you whisper, flitting your eyes between his own and the tv, not wanting to miss any important moments.

“are you watching the game?” he looks at you like you have three heads.

you giggle in response, amused at his expression and surprised tone of his voice. “yeah, kinda. don’t really know what’s happening, though, if i’m honest.”

there was never a home game of quinn’s you missed. you went to support him every time you could, and loved seeing him in his element. but you can’t even pretend to understand the sport past each player wanting to get the puck into the opposing net. you didn’t understand the positions, the penalties, or anything surrounding the ins and outs of professional hockey. you never watched it growing up, and probably still wouldn’t watch it if you weren’t dating the captain of your new city’s team.

you had moved to vancouver for work, and knew nothing of the prominent hockey culture before you arrived. the sports presence buzzed all around you as you figured out the ins and outs of your new home, but it had no place in your daily routine. that is, until you hit it off with this insanely attractive stranger that seemed to frequent the same coffee shop as you. you accidentally cut him in line one day, offering to pay for his coffee to make up for it, but he paid for yours instead. a ‘pay it forward’ war was started between the two of you until he was stood waiting at the door with your usual order one morning, requesting more than just a name and the fact you drank a large, vanilla iced coffee with chocolate syrup lining the cup every morning.

when he realized you were likely the only person in the city he now calls home that doesn’t know who he is, it only piqued his interest in the pretty coffee shop stranger further. the morning meetings at the shop turned into an exchange of numbers, which developed into him meeting you for lunch on your break when he was in town, that then escalated into dinner dates and spontaneous outings, and now it’s found its permanence in you moving in with him a few months ago.

you were…indifferent, when he revealed to you who he was and what all his career entailed, uttering out a simple “oh! that’s cool! makes sense why you’re always at the gym, now” later explaining that you thought he was just really into fitness and maybe worked as a personal trainer or some equivalent. when he first invited you to games he tried to tell you a little bit about the rules, but assumed you’d catch on as you watched (hopefully) more and more of his sport. you always told him how much you enjoyed watching him in his element, but never asked many questions past if the other team was supposed to be good or not. he assumed you understood enough to keep up, knowing how intelligent and observant you are, but he tried to refrain from talking about work too much with you. when he’s with you, he wants to be present with you, not hockey.

which is why he feels so guilty at times like this, watching film while you’re sitting next to him. it feels like you’re two people who happen to be in the same room, completely in your own worlds. until tonight.

“you…never watch the games with me. you always have a book or something,” he reaches over to pause the game, still a little shocked.

you shrug at him. “didn’t feel like reading tonight. not really anything new on my socials, either. so i figured i’d just watch with you for once.”

“and you weren’t gonna say anything?”

this earns a real laugh out of you, not understanding why this is such a big shock for him. it’s not like you’ve ever told him you don’t like hockey. you just have never really cared to watch it if isn’t the one playing. but you’ve been wanting to learn more about it recently, tired of not being able to participate in the games like the other women do when they’re watching their husband or boyfriend play.

“why would i? you’re trying to work, i’m just trying to learn a little bit,” you reply, the hint of a laugh on each word as you say it.

quinn just blinks at you, trying not to get his hopes up at your expression, not knowing just how far you want to go with your quest for knowledge.

“since when do you want to learn about hockey? why now?” he questions, trying not to sound accusatory or snarky, but genuinely curious as to what you’ll answer.

“i’ve always wanted to learn, ever since that first game i went to, but you don’t seem to like to talk about it outside of the rink, so i don’t really ask much. me and google have become very good friends as of late,” you shrug out another answer for him. “plus, when you’re watching games at night like this, i don’t want to keep talking and asking a million questions while you’re trying to work, so i force myself not to watch to keep from distracting you.”

quinn sits a little straighter, now worried he’s made it seem like hockey is this forbidden subject between the two of you.

“sweetheart, i don’t like talking about hockey outside of the rink because i don’t ever want you to think that’s all we ever talk about, not because we can’t talk about it,” he tries to defend himself, even though there’s no accusation. “if you want to learn about the game, please, ask me questions. i- god, i’d love nothing more than to teach you about it. i hate sitting here in silence every night i’m home, worried you’re going to eventually get pissed at me because all i do during the season is watch old games.”

you grin at his slight panic, endeared by how worried he was about your feelings this whole time, appreciating his intention with the unspoken rule.

“q, i never asked about it because i didn’t want you to be upset because i kept bringing up work when you’re away from it all,” your smile only grows at the fact you were both worried about upsetting the other for no reason at all.

the slight tension in his shoulders fades at your words, relieved that you’re not upset or feel like he made it seem like you had no place in that part of his life.

“alright, well, fire away, then,” he gives you the floor, pressing play so the players on the tv screens move once again, now glancing at you every few seconds to catch any looks of confusion or interest in any particular play or action.

the rest of the night is spent playing and pausing the game over and over again, question after question flying out of your mouth. anything from why the faceoff is from a certain spot on the ice to what a particular penalty looks like is spoken the second the thought enters your brain. quinn takes his time explaining every answer to you, even rewinding and pulling up other examples to make sure you understand what he’s telling you.

at the end of the night he realizes just how much more he caught of the game while answering your questions. there’s several times you picked up on things he never has before. like why one player seems to always place his stick so close to another player’s skates while he’s chasing him. or why a certain goalie seems to lean left everytime instead of right, no matter where the puck is coming from.

he’s been able to add several tells about players in his notes, ready to take them to practice the next morning and change his game to accommodate his opponents habits. and when they win their game a few days later, thanks to your observations during the impromptu hockey 101 class in your living room, he revels in the fact that even though you know so little about his sport and his job, you ended up being one of the biggest parts of their success.

from then on, the nights of sitting in silence while he studies film are nonexistent. every time he brings work home with him, you’re right there next to him, enthralled in whatever opponent’s game they’re facing that week. he loves that you’re so observant, paying attention to the smallest of details someone who’s been playing for years becomes blind to. and he really loves turning you into a bottomless pit of hockey information, seeing how you absorb each ‘lesson’ from day to day.

when they break through their slump, a big part of that accredited to your nights spent questioning quinn, and he sees you start really participating in his games, he can’t help but fall that much deeper in love with you. watching you scream and complain about bad calls with the rest of the fans in rogers arena, and reading your texts to him about your thoughts on his away games you watch on tv, swells his heart in a way he never thought to be possible.

plus, he always knew it was only a matter of time before you fell victim to the hockey atmosphere of the city. no one can really resist the pull of vancouver hockey, especially not when it’s captain has anything to do with it.

[whoisraii]

☆ WIN IT FOR YOU — LN4

summary: it was his home race and all he wanted to do was win it for you...

LN4 MASTERLIST

pairing: Lando Norris x f!reader

word count: 13.8k

cw: slow burn, happy ending, fluff, use of y/n, race calendar skipped after miami <3

note: request on my blog<3 okay this is like the first fic I wrote in months...kinda let my fingers slip...hope I did lando justice with this one 😭...also like the Lando hate is forced in my opinion...like give the guy a break he already has a lot on his plate..

Playlist for this fic <3 Artists in this playlist: • The Neighbourhood • Taylor Swift • Harry Styles • Lorde • Conan Gray • Frank Ocean • Lana Del Rey

THE SOUND OF FLASH shot in the room echoing on the walls...the air conditioner chilled the room as jacob redefined his pose for the next cover photo…(Y/n) softly hummed as her fingers perfected the shot and another sound of the flash echoed across the room…Jacob clears his throat as she gets lost in the controls of her camera… “You know…we have been here for 4 hours (Y/n)…I think it's time we wrap it up now..don't we?”

(Y/n) sighed as she nodded… “Yeah..good idea..I’ll go home load these up on my laptop and get them done by tomorrow..how does that sound?” Jacob nodded and got out of the chair and walked to the nearby table and uncapped a disposable bottle and gulped half of it down in one go… The sound of zips was heard as (Y/n) packed up all the equipment and slinged her duffel bag across her shoulder as she walked downstairs from the studio…

Her consciousness was pretty blurred due to the earphones blaring music at full volume in her ears as she took out her umbrella and shook it open putting it above her head as she began to walk across the street while scrolling on her feed…Suddenly a horn blared up and (Y/n)’s eyes widened…she looked to her left and it was almost too late…the car was just too close… (Y/n) groaned as it hit her almost softly, being braked at almost the perfect time…A guy got out of the car as she groaned rubbing her thigh… “If I was you…I’d at least keep one ear open while scrolling like that in the middle of the street” The guy said in one go…He had curly hair..tanned skin…and a look in his eyes she quite couldn’t place a finger on.. “I’m sorry..” (Y/n) mumbled as she looked around…Her eyes fell on the time on her phone screen as it displayed the number 7:30pm boldly on the top of her lockscreen…she fixed herself quickly before muttering an apology to the man and quickly making a run to the bus stop with her umbrella shielding her as much as it could… What had she been thinking when she had told Jacob that she would have given him the photos by tomorrow…hell she didn't even know if she was going to make it to her dorm to finish her assignment and turn it in by the deadline she had…

The bus ride had been really quiet…even with her earphones in her ears…it just wasn't like the other times she took the bus…(Y/n) would be lying if she said that everything felt normal nowadays…in fact if she had to phrase the mental bullshit she had been undergoing…everything felt late, weird, time consuming and unfruitful… Sure she was a perfect student with a part time job as a florist…But it wasn't as easy as she had thought when she had started out…being a history major…oh that was worse… It took her the exact time of an hour and eleven minutes to complete that damn paper that was sitting in her portals with a deadline that was about to end at 57 minutes…she hit submit before opening the editing app before exporting jacob’s photos and getting to work… An hour passed as she finally finished editing half the pictures…(Y/n) groaned as she held her head and rose from her bed and walked herself to the kitchen to get herself a coffee…she was scrolling on her phone while the coffee was being prepped… That’s when he saw him…the same guy from the evening…but..oh..Oh..oh lord what the actual fuck…(Y/n)’s eyes widened… “He’s an F1 driver?” Her mind and mouth spoke at the same time as her brows scrunched and her fingers almost in a trance clicked on the profile by itself…it was the team’s page…the coffee machine dinged as it pulled her back to reality…she took her coffee and dragged herself back to her bed… Pushing the laptop screen open she typed out the name of the team on a web browser…the results flooded in as she read two names side by side… “Lando Norris…Oscar Piastri” Both were F1 drivers and she just so happened to almost get run over by one of them…(Y/n) shrugged as she closed the window…she tucked the laptop back into her backpack as she put it under her bed and pulled the covers on herself…skipping dinner was really normal about her… It just happened one time right? She just happened to be the person who almost got run over by an f1 driver…but would it?...would it really be just one time?

It was a sunday…nothing special…nothing weird…just a normal sunday…(Y/n) had just pulled up to her weekend job at 8am in the morning…She unlocked the shop and smiled as the smell of fresh flowers flooded her nostrils… Every weekend (Y/n) opened up the shop in the morning and the actual owner…her boss…a sweet 68 year old lady she had always called ‘kylie’ would come in late…(Y/n) cleaned up the shelves as she got everything sorted out and ready when suddenly the bell rang and someone stepped in…

(Y/n) had her back turned to the customer as she hummed cleaning the back desk…she let them pick out what they wanted to buy…and finally she heard the ring on the counter indicating that the customer was ready for her to wrap the flowers and help them buy it.. “Hey there! Good morning, what can I help you with…” Raina’s voice faded as her eyes met with the greenish blue orbs staring back at her… “And…we meet again?” Lando smirks as he hands her a handful of roses and daisies… ‘weird match but works’ (Y/n) thought as she bound the flowers and trimmed the stems… “yea…” Raina chuckled “Surprise…I work here..” She huffed out as looked back at him.. “Okay brown paper or a basic cover or a vase? And like do you want a film over it or just for me to bind it up for you?” (Y/n) mumbled out the now very natural question to which Lando quietly replied “Brown…and no film just bind it up..” He gave her a lopsided smile…which (Y/n) gladly returned… A few minutes later (Y/n) was done binding them up..she billed out everything before looking up at him… “Cash or Card?” another trained question leaving her mouth but with a genuine smile ghosting her lips… “Cash..” Lando smiled as she told him the amount to which he handed her that…while the receipt printed out a mentally phrased question made it out of her mouth without even realizing… “Roses and daisies are a weird combination to give to your girlfriend”...Lando chuckled as she said that and her eyes widened… “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to…” “don't worry…it didn't offend me…they are for my sister…it's more of an inner meaning kind of thing…it's going to take a lot of time if i'm going to explain it right now…” The sound of the machine whirling beeped as the receipt was finally printed …she tore it off and handed him the receipt… Lando stood there for a second his eyes roaming over the receipt as he gave a nod before starting to walk off…but just as he was about to…he turned around and smiled “looks like someone did their homework…I never told you my name headphone girl” Realization dawned over (Y/n) as she checked the system…she had typed his name like it was a natural habit onto the receipt without even realizing… “See you around!” Three last words she had heard as the bell dings indicating that lando was now gone…and for some stupid reason..she smiled at the roses and daisies the entire day

As time passed..whenever Lando was in town he would just come by and sit for hours with her as she worked her shift on the weekends…Once he had asked her what her favorite flowers were…to which (Y/n) had replied lavenders without a second thought…she loved them…As time passed (Y/n) found herself wrapping a few lavenders for lando almost twice or thrice each week…

“I think I'm starting to like lavenders a bit too…” He would say any time she confronted him about it…Sometimes he would come to buy a bouquet and bring coffee and end up staying there till she would close up…

And just like that Lando Norris became a regular in the shop almost each weekend when he was in town…A few months into Lando being regular..kylie decided to meet the ‘Regular guy who gives me business’ and she loved him…absolutely adored him…maybe even more than she adored (Y/n)...

(Y/n)’s last week of uni was lingering as finals drained her mentally…She had talked to Kylie about being a regular full time for the shop to which Kylie had happily agreed and raised her pay a bit…As she handed in her last exam of her life…she sighed softly closing her pen and holding her head…she was independent..fully independent now…

She had now achieved what she wanted to be since she was 11…to be secure...to be independent…Ever since Lando had entered her life..the monotone feeling had disappeared…she had someone she could rely on genuinely…a close comforting bond built over a concerning amount of cups of coffee and hours of just pure talking about anything and everything in their lives…Lando had managed to get (Y/n) involved in F1 as well…she found herself at 4am waking up to watch the races…in a way it was just her way of showing Lando gratitude for pulling her out of the ditch an year ago…and in another way she had grown a soft spot for the sport…in a way it was comforting even if she was yelling at her screen about the shit strategies ferrari had and how horribly they treated their driver…

“No matter how much I like them…I’d question my existence too if I was Charles…” (Y/n) would say to Lando any time he asked her about why she had a soft spot for the Ferrari team…He had healed her and she would write him a hundred thankyou letters to him…

(Y/n) makes her way out of uni as she takes the bus to the flower shop to see kylie and Lando already waiting for her near the counter…Raina went inside and hugged kylie as kylie handed her the keys to the shop because kylie would be taking a vacation for the next week…a really hard earned one…when kylie walked out (Y/n) turned to Lando and hugged him tightly…

“How was the exam?” Lando smiled softly at her as his arms found her waist wrapping around them tightly returning the hug… “I made it…guess uni is finally over…” The pair decided to sit down behind the counter waiting for any new customers…a few came in and left with their bouquets and just like that…it was closing time…(Y/n) and Lando quickly shut the door off and went to the back rooms so that (Y/n) could pack up.. Lando leans against the shelves, watching her like he always does — quiet, patient, present. The sound of the door clicking shut echoes faintly through the empty shop. Outside, the sky’s already dimming, soft orange hues brushing the windows. (Y/n) pulls her hoodie over her head and finishes tying up her hair. “So… that’s it? You’re officially done?” The words leave Lando's mouth in the softest and most soothing way as the question hangs in the atmosphere as (Y/n) continues packing her bag…she exhales like she has been holding everything in for days…her head bobbs softly as she nods… “Yeah. No more exams. No more weird group projects. No more 3 a.m. breakdowns over citation formats.” A grin spreads across Lando’s face…“I don’t know, I kind of liked those 3 a.m. rants. They were very… expressive.” He fixes his posture as he puts his back on the wall and (Y/n) faces him resting on the shelves…“You liked watching me spiral?” She smirked “Only a little.” The words left Lando’s mouth as they both cracked up a smile which developed into laughter which quickly resided into a comforting silence… “I thought I’d feel more… I don’t know, proud? Relieved? But it’s weird. It’s like everything just got quiet all of a sudden.” (Y/n) shrugs as she looks outside of the window… “It's like…everything just came to a halt and now I'm just…hanging..” 

“Sometimes it takes a minute to catch up to the feeling.” Lando looked down into her eyes as they exchanged a soft understanding smile with each other…(Y/n) knew…(Y/n) knew that Lando wasn't saying much, but he didn’t need to. That’s always been something about him — he listens like it matters.

“I spent so long just trying to get through it all. Like, finish the degree, pay rent, keep everything together. And now that I actually have time to breathe… I don’t really know what to do with it.” Lando shifted his weight, then stepped closer, not too close, just enough…

“Maybe you don’t have to figure it out right away.” A smile ghosted (Y/n)’s face as she smiled up at him…“I’m not great at sitting still.” She muttered out hoping he wouldn't hear her but he did…He always heard her… “You don’t have to sit still. Just… don’t rush past this part, either. You’ve earned some space to not know.” As he said that Lando looked at her with the amount of reassurance that confirmed her that even if it was 4am in the morning and she needed help…Lando would just be a single call away…another soft and comforting silence fell until (Y/n) decided to break it… “Thanks for showing up today. I didn’t even ask.” She looked up at him…a soft gloss on her eyes…“You never have to.” Lando replied, staring into her eyes with the most soft smile he had ever given anyone…

The sound of the door clicking shut echoes faintly through the empty shop. Outside, the sky’s already dimming, soft orange hues brushing the windows. (Y/n) pulls her hoodie over her head and finishes tying up her hair.

“I like being here. With you.” Lando said looking at the sunset…(Y/n) smiled softly as she slinged her bag on her shoulders…“I like you being here too..” They hold the silence for a moment — not awkward, not unsure. Just comforting and still…

“Come on. Let’s get you something to eat. Real food. No more skipping dinner.” (Y/n) groaned as she finally chuckled before saying “Alright, alright. But only if I get to pick.” “I’ve already accepted defeat.” Lando says as he puts his arms up in a surrendering motion and raina chuckles softly They grabbed their things and walked toward Lando’s car, shoulders brushing as they moved side by side. Outside, the street lights are just flickering on. And for once, everything doesn’t feel late — it just feels right.

The hum of the engine fills the quiet air as the car idles in line. (Y/n)'s window is rolled halfway down, her elbow resting casually on the door. The car smells faintly like her vanilla body spray and Lando’s cologne — a strange but comfortable mix… “You really went for nuggets and fries?” Lando smiles as she looks at her by the side of his eye and focuses back on the road…(Y/n) smiled and turned to him “Do you wanna fight me right now or after I eat?”

Lando chuckles as he parks in the parking lot in front of (Y/n)’s apartment…“Just saying… you’ve got commitment.” (Y/n) smiles as she softly replies back “Exactly. Learn from me.” They both laugh. The kind that escapes easily, no effort, just comfort. (Y/n) quickly opens the bag of food. She passes Lando his drink and then proceeds to pop open the paper bag, and steals a fry before handing him the rest.

“Hey—” Lando chuckles as he speaks up but he is cut off by her voice “Tax.” (Y/n) smiled softly before a silence fell in the car as the duo began to eat in silence until Lando breaked it.. He holds the cup to his mouth as he sucks on the straw and gulps down the drink before looking at her “Do you ever feel like the thing you love the most stops feeling like… yours?” (Y/n) takes her drink and stops mid-sip.. “Where’s that coming from?” It’s almost like Lando can't meet her eyes...He shrugs a bit as he looks out of the window… “Lately racing’s felt… heavy. Not hard, not exhausting — just… like I’m chasing something that’s not even mine anymore. I used to love it for the speed, the instinct, the feeling of just being there. Now it’s—” Lando sighs as he waves his hand almost like he’s trying to find the words…“it’s…it’s like every lap is a test. Like I’m trying to prove something to people who’ve already decided what I’m worth.”

(Y/n) looks at him as she sighs “Is that what you think? That they’ve already made up their minds?” Lando doesn't answer…he just didn't have the courage to for some reason…(Y/n)’s gaze stays fixed on his as she slowly leans back in the passenger seat… 

“You know what I see? I see a guy who lights up when he talks about how the tires felt during lap 16. Who gets mad not because he failed, but because he knows what he’s capable of. I’ve watched you love this sport like it’s a part of your skin.” Lando turns his head…his eyes meeting with hers as she continues…

“You’re allowed to be tired. You’re allowed to feel the pressure. But none of that changes why you started. Or how much you matter — not to a team, not to some sponsor, but to the people who actually see you.” Her voice softens…“One bad weekend doesn’t rewrite everything you’ve done. It doesn’t take away who you are. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean you’ve got anything left to prove.”

That’s when Lando sighs and for a second his walls slip…(Y/n) sees the boy beneath the driver…in front of her…After all…Lando was also a human who needed to be reassured of his capabilities sometimes…

“Do you really think that?” “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

A few seconds pass. Then he reaches over, takes one of her nuggets, and eats it wordlessly. (Y/n) gasps as she looks at him faking an offended expression “Excuse me—” Lando grinned as he let the word fall from his lips in the most carefree and free way “Tax…”

(Y/n) laughed as she shoves him lightly. Lando leans his head back on the seat and lets out a breath that sounds a little more like relief this time rather than a weight inside him begging to be relieved

“Thanks. For being the one place I don’t have to be the guy who wears McLaren's racing suits...” Lando says looking at her while (Y/n) smiles softly “You’re welcome. For always.”

3 days later it's raining as Lando barges into the shop…almost practically wet…He shoots a grin at (Y/n) who was cleaning the counter when she looked at the bouquet she was making and sighed “Hey, we’re open, but if you’re dripping, I’m legally allowed to throw a towel at you.” 

Rain taps gently on the windows, the sound muffled but steady. The shop smells like soil, eucalyptus, and the faint vanilla candle (Y/n) lit earlier. The doorbell jingles softly. Lando’s voice rings across the room…“Harsh welcome.” (Y/n) smiled as she peered over the counter…Her face lightened up when she saw him…

Lando was drenched…his curls stuck to his forehead indicating he had gotten slightly wet as he had closed the umbrella before walking in…which also answered why his hoodie was half wet… “Oh look what the rain dragged in…you know you’re gonna be down with fever after this right Lan?” Everyone called him that but from her mouth…god it felt like it was call from heaven to him…

“You got a mop or do I just stand here and ruin your floor?” (Y/n) smiled as she shook her head as Lando shrugged…she disappeared into the backroom and threw a small hand towel at him…“Thanks.” He ruffles his hair a bit and sets the soaked hoodie on a hook near the door. He was wearing a plain black shirt underneath which had been saved from being dampened by the thick hoodie… “You want something warm? I’ve got hot chocolate in the back. Not from a machine, thank you very much.” (Y/n) smiled as she looked at him “I made it in the morning…” Lando smiled as he stood in front of the counter as she let him in…“Yeah… yeah, that sounds good.” He smiled at her as he looked her up and down…Had she always looked like she was the moon…she almost looked like she had a soft glow around her…he shook his head as she let him in and they both went to the backroom… A small lamp cast a gentle yellow glow. The rain sounds louder back here, like a low lullaby. (Y/n) set down two mugs of hot chocolate on the old wooden table as she pulled a chair and sat across Lando… “One has a little cinnamon in it. Try not to die guessing which.” She smiles as she pushes one of the cups towards him…“Living dangerously today, huh?” Lando smirked at her as she smiled tilting her head “That’s just me being me…” A soft laughter erupted in the room which died down soon after as Lando cleared his throat…He turned the cup slowly in his hand before finally letting the statement fall from his lips… “So… I’ve gotta tell you something.” (Y/n) sat up, setting her cup down and looking at him…“Okay. Should I be worried?” (Y/n)’s voice was almost a whisper…she was thinking about the worst possibilities… Had she said something stupid which hurt him?

Did she mess up something?

What had she done…?

Oh lord…

“No. Just—don’t hate me.” Lando looked at her…

“Lando.” Panic spread across her face as Lando noticed and shook his head as he finally sighed and looked at the counter that could be seen from the door…“Season’s starting. First race is this weekend. Then it’s back-to-back for months. I’m flying out tomorrow morning.” Some relief sets back into (Y/n)…she knew this would come her way…she just didn't know this quickly…

“How long?” (Y/n) let the question fall off her lips like she had rehearsed it mentally a hundred times just to soothe the hollowness she would feel while he would be gone…“Five months. Give or take.” Lando said as he looked into her eyes..that was the time they made a quiet and mutual agreement… “And then?” (Y/n) said looking at him as she tried to shift in her seat…somehow it was starting to hurt her entire body in just two seconds…“Then I’ll be back….Silverstone.”...“Right.” (Y/n) nodded as she took another sip before setting it on the table… “I didn’t want to just vanish on you…you matter to me…and I felt like you should know…” Lando looked at her hoping she wouldn’t look at him differently…“I’m glad you did.” (Y/n) smiled…she had sorted out the mental turmoil and she took another sip and looked at him before speaking.. “Five months is a long time. But not forever.” (Y/n) looked at Lando looking for any sense of reassurance in his eyes…“Exactly. And I’ll call. Text. Send you blurry photos of my hotel breakfasts.” (Y/n) chuckled as she looked at him…That innocent ‘I trust you’ smile Lando loved more than anything…“Please do. I want full reviews. I’m holding you to it.”....“Deal.” Lando smiles as (Y/n) takes their empty mugs and washes them in the sink… A comfortable silence falls again, a deeper kind of quiet wrapping around them. The kind that holds what words can’t.

“Promise me something?” (Y/n) says as she turns around to face him…“Don’t spend the whole season trying to prove yourself. Just… love it. Like you used to.”

Lando looks at her…his face softening as his vulnerable side flushes out…“You’re the only one who says that, you know?”...(Y/n) sighs and looks into his eyes ....“Then I’ll keep saying it. Every time.” She walks closer and places her hand over his…He turns his palm up and gently holds her fingers. “God, I’m gonna miss this.” Lando looked down… “I’ll miss annoying you on your shifts…” (Y/n) smiled as Lando looked up at her while he said the last part… “I’ll be right here when you come back. Hot chocolate and all.” (Y/n) smiled as she looked at him and hugged him to which he answered immediately, his arms finding her waist and wrapping around it as she played with his hair. The rain outside made it so much more comfortable…They both knew…At the end of the day they would have each other…to turn to..

(Y/n) is sat cross-legged on her bed, hair up in a messy bun, hoodie too big for her. Her laptop screen glowed. Behind her, a shelf of books, a candle flickering low, and a soft throw blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her phone buzzed, and she answered the video call. Lando’s face appears — hoodie on, lying on his hotel bed in Melbourne… “There she is.” Lando’s voice soothed her ears as a smile spread across her cheeks… (Y/n) raised her brow as she spoke…voice hoarse due to not talking for hours at a stretch “Shouldn’t you be asleep? You’ve got FP1 in, like, six hours.”

(Y/n) fixed the blanket and snuggled and rested her head on the cushion that supported her…“Can’t. Too much adrenaline, or nerves. Or maybe I just missed hearing your voice.” Lando said as he looked at her and smiled softly…genuinely… “Smooth.” (Y/n) chuckled while her eyes were closed…“I’m trying, alright? Give a man points.” Lando said, pretending to be offended…“You get one. Maybe.” (Y/n) said as she opened her eyes and smiled..readjusting herself…that's when he saw the hoodie he had left behind at the shop on her tiny frame…A small smile spread across lando’s face but he decided not to confront it…He also saw something else…a book with a girl standing and a guy in a racing suit standing on the cover page of the book…the spine of the book had tiny checkered flags on it… “Wait. Wait, go back.” He said to (Y/n) who grew confused and looked at him a bit weirdly… “Go back where?” she asked confusion lacing her voice…Lando leaned a bit into the camera before he let his lips speak the words that his brain framed…

“On your bed. What is that? That red and white book.” (Y/n) glances over her shoulder, then immediately turns back, her face blank. “Nope. Not important.” She says as she tries to change the topic…“Oh, it's very important now.” (Y/n) sighed, throwing her head back dramatically as she accepted defeat..“Fine. It’s called ‘To The Finish Line’.” (Y/n) grumbled out as she pulled the strings of the hood to hide her face…

“Sounds suspiciously F1-related.” Lando said out loud…“Maybe.” “Romance?” (Y/n) averted her gaze as she sighed and put the candle off “Would it kill you to believe I’m well-rounded?” “Not at all. But it is incredibly hard to imagine you reading a book where the lead guy probably says something like ‘my heart races faster than my car’.” (Y/n) bursts out laughing as Lando completes the sentence…her smiling…it pult a smile on his face by default as if it was just what his duty was…to make her smile…

“Okay that was exactly the vibe, but listen—it’s not that cheesy. It’s about this driver who kind of loses himself in the pressure and this girl who helps him remember why he started in the first place.”  Lando’s mind spirals as he hears her say that…

Wait, isn't that like us? He wanted to say…but just an “Oh” came out of his mouth…(Y/n)’s voice softened as she looked at the book holding it in her hands “Yeah. So… maybe I got attached. Sue me.”...

Lando quietly eyed her as he muttered…“You always pick the things that matter to you. Even if they look small.” There was a silent pause as he laid on his back…phone angled to face the ceiling…“You think you can talk me to sleep?” His heavy voice mumbles out… “Only if you promise not to drool mid-call.” (Y/n) smiles softly…and starts humming softly as she starts knitting…something about it was so calming…Lando couldn't place his finger on it…Was it her humming or the fact that she would stay on call with him till he fell asleep…it was just safe and he felt…accepted…

Sleep nearly dawns on him…as she sleepy groans out some words to her… “It's not fair you know? You are all over there literally across the world…and I'd still win the damn race just to see you smile…” (Y/n) smiled softly looking at him… “Lan sleep…you need it…” Lando rubbed his face as he finally spoke up… “Text me after FP1…okay?” “Always…” and the line went dead as Lando's black screen stared at him…something struck him…before sleep could dawn on him…he opened google and typed in the book’s name carefully…

To The Finish Line – Paperback

He presses 'Order'. Just to know, he tells himself. Just to see what she sees.

The sky outside was still dark, just starting to blue. (Y/n) sat curled up on the couch with her blanket wrapping her body as the post-FP2 recap played on the TV. Her phone buzzed in her lap. She blinks at the screen.

It’s Lando. Video call. 

She answers, voice raspy with exhaustion and a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Well look who finally remembered his biggest fan.” She covered her face as she yawned before smiling at him..“You’re awake?” Lando smiled at her as he unlocked the door of his hotel room…He put the card in the holder as he set his phone on the stand… “I never slept, genius. Stayed up to watch both sessions. You crushed it.” (Y/n) smiled…It was genuine…her voice had pride in it and Lando could perfectly sense it…A smile ghosted Lando's lips as she smiled at him while her eyes were already dropping from the lack of sleep in her system… “Did I now?” Lando said as he fiddled with the hem of his hoodie…there was a soft insecure feeling in his voice…after all he had faltered his position in FP2…finishing in p2 after he had just gotten p1 in FP1…he felt less somehow…and he couldn't place a finger on exactly where he felt the pain…It felt like it was divided in the heart and brain… (Y/n) sensed the uncomfortable silence as Lando zoned out…she cleared her throat before letting the words fall off her lips “You did. P1 and P2? Not too bad for someone who couldn’t sleep last night.” Lando let a sarcastic laugh fall off his lips… “but I still faltered…didn’t I?” (Y/n)’s eyes softened even more if that was possible…she smiled softly at him… “Lando it's free practice…you did really good…if you don't want to hear it from yourself…hear it from me at least…you did really good..” Lando’s mind grew quieter as she said that…a sense of comfort dawning on him filling him with reassurance…“Seriously though” a soft sigh left his lips “… thank you. For staying up. For watching. It means more than I can say.” (Y/n) smiled as she nodded…“I don’t miss the things that matter.” His eyes suddenly lock on her as she closes her eyes and tries not to fall asleep…he just sits there…He watches her — hair messy, eyes tired, hoodie hanging off her shoulder. A version of her he’s never seen in person, but it makes his chest feel oddly warm. A chuckle leaves his throat…“You’re gonna pass out, huh?” “Probably in the next 5 minutes. But you had to know I was proud of you before that happened.” (Y/n) smiled as she completed the sentence… “and…Lan just know that I always will be…proud…of you…”

“Go hydrate. Stretch. Eat carbs. Whatever it is you drivers do after a good day.” (Y/n) chuckled out as she sank into her pillows…Lando eyed her face and smiled as he rested his head on his hand…“I’ll do all of that. After I look at you for another ten seconds.” “Flirt.” (Y/n) said, chuckling as she looked away, a faint blush on her cheeks… “Sleepy flirt. Big difference.” Lando smiled as he said that and exhaled deeply “Go to sleep Headphone girl…you need it..” (Y/n) rolled her eyes affectionately… “I don't use my headphones that much…” Lando chuckled as she shook his head “I almost ran over you that day…” “Point.” “yea..” (Y/n) smiled softly as she sighed… “Fine…goodnight lan I’m gonna go get some sleep now…” Lando smiled as the line went dead and a black screen stared back at him…he sighed softly as he looked to his side…the paperback book lying on his desk… It's time to see what she sees in this…

Lando sat by the window, legs pulled up to the chair. The book lay open on his lap. A highlighter uncapped next to it. He’s re..read a passage for the third time, brows slightly furrowed. “He didn’t know when it started — the fear that he wasn’t enough anymore. But she never treated him like he had to prove anything. And that’s when he started breathing again.”Lando closed the book slowly, fingers resting on the page. He looked toward his phone on the table, her name still on top from last night’s call. He’s torn…torn between his brain and heart…his brain kept muttering at him to forget it and just go to sleep while his heart practically begs the brian for permission to let him move his hands and grab the phone and text her…

His brain gives up…hands rush to the phone before he types in a text…

LAN: Thankyou for accepting me just how I am…Being around you..it..it makes me feel like I…like I can just breathe…without having to worry about anything.

No no no no no what am I thinking… His finger hovers over the backspace key before he taps it vigorously and again a blank text bar lay staring up at him from his phone…

LAN: you’re kind of unfairly good at making my head quieter.

He deletes that too… Eventually, he sets the phone down without sending anything. Just sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose before muttering… “Jesus. I’m so far gone.”

The garage was waking up — crew members moving with precision, equipment being calibrated, the low hum of focus in the air. But Lando's world was quieter. Slower. 

He stood by the back wall, race suit hanging from his waist, gloves in hand. A bottle of water forgotten by his side. His eyes were on the floor — not the car…His brain was screaming at him right now…He felt numb…just numb… “Yesterday was good. P1 and P2. I should be happy.”

He says to himself as he rolls his shoulder, stretching out tension that’s been sitting there since sunrise. “So why does it feel like if I’m not better today, it all counts for nothing?”One of the engineers waves a note at him — some tweak on balance, maybe tire pressures. He nods but barely hears it..He knows what the data says. He knows what the lap times were. But logic rarely speaks louder than the voice inside him that was eating him alive…

“What if it slips? What if that wasn’t real? What if yesterday was the peak and now it’s the drop?”

He picked up his helmet and ran a thumb over the top. The design felt familiar. Grounding. He closed his eyes for a second longer than he needed to.

The garage was still busy. Still loud. But the noise doesn’t touch him.

“It’s just free practice. But why does it feel like a test I already failed?”

He hears a buzz from his phone kept beside him…he lets his hand find their way to the phone and turns on the screen as a text notification stares at him..

(N/n): Watching. Go drive like you mean it.

His mouth lifts slightly. Just barely. But it’s enough to remind him he’s not doing this alone.

Helmet on. Visor down. He walks toward the car, heartbeat in his throat — not from fear, but from the weight of expectation he hasn’t figured out how to let go.

The alarm rang as 2:30 AM displayed on (Y/n)’s phone as she pushed the blanket off of herself…she groggily made her way to the living room as she turned the tv on and sat down…(Y/n) puts it on multiviewer as she looks at the camera that is pointed at lando as she looks at him…a soft smile forming but soon disappearing after she ready his body language… She looked at him standing in the garage, head down, hand braced on the edge of the car like he’s holding something invisible back… “He’s quiet. Too quiet. Not in that usual pre-session way either.”

She thought mentally…She leaned closer to the screen like proximity could help her read his thoughts better. The commentator's voice drones on about tire choices and balance tweaks, but she wasn’t listening. She watched the way Lando hesitated just before getting in the car. The way his jaw locked for a second too long…

“He’s spiraling a little, isn’t he?” she mutters to herself as she picks at the hem of her shirt…The camera switches angles — now he’s got the helmet on, but that didn’t fool her. His posture was too still. Not focused — frozen. And she knew exactly what that meant

“God, I wish I could just be there. Shake him a little. Tell him to breathe. Tell him yesterday didn’t vanish just because today feels heavier.”

Her hand finds her phone before her brain finishes the thought. She types faster than she realizes.

(N/n): Watching. Go drive like you mean it.

She sent it before she could second-guess. Then set the phone down, still staring at the screen as the session begins.

And when his car finally rolled out of the garage — smooth, clean, no hesitation — she exhaled, the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Her lips curve into a tiny smile. A hopeful one…one she wished he could see…just to feel reassured if that was possible… “There he is.” She mutters as seriousness dawns on her while she watches the grid driving…praying his mind didn’t play tricks on him…

Lando sat on a bench, still in his race suit, as he tried to avoid his phone which was set down beside him. His helmet was still on him, visor open, reflecting the quiet frustration in his eyes. His phone buzzed. He doesn't even look at the name before swiping to answer the call…

“Didn’t even get a ‘hello’? What if I was someone else?” (Y/n)’s voice rang across the phone as she held it under her ear while she snuggled up to the couch

“Then I guess someone else would’ve had to tell me P10 isn’t the end of the world.” Lando mumbled almost like he was saying that to himself mentally…A deep sigh was heard on the other side of the call…“So that’s what this call is.” “That obvious?” “Crystal clear. Lando, it’s free practice. you were trying things. You know this.” “Yeah, but—” “No. No ‘but.’ Listen to me. You are going to go out there, put that helmet on, and crush quali. Because you always come alive when it counts.”

A silence fell on the call as Lando’s breath normalized again…(Y/n)’s voice continued as her tone turned softer…“And even if something goes wrong… you’re still you. You’re not measured by a single lap.”

Lando leaned back, letting his back hit the wall as his head tipped towards the ceiling…“Why do you always know exactly what to say?” he murmured as she smiled softly before replying…“Because I pay attention.”

“Will you watch it live?” Lando said as he looked back down and chewed his lip…“Already called off of work… Kilye didn’t bat an eye when I said it was about you… You’re stuck with me.” A smile finally laced Lando’s lips…“Good. I drive better when I know you’re there.” “Then go give me something worth yelling about.”

 “Copy that.”

He ended the call, and in the sudden quiet of the driver room, he exhaled. The weight on his shoulders felt lighter now…

The TV glowed in the dark room, casting soft light across the cluttered coffee table — empty mugs, half-eaten snacks... She was curled up on the couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, phone clutched tightly… “Through this time the home favorite looking to bring the crowd to their feet there's never been an Australian driver on pole position for the Australian Grand Prix can he change all of that” The commentator yells out as the screen shows Oscar's lap…(Y/n)’s hand subconsciously grips the phone in her hand harder… “he can! With a monster final sector…” the speakers of her TV let the voice echo as (Y/n) chews her lip… “Over to you Lando Norris…Over to you Max Verstappen and George Russell…”

He still has time…(Y/n) thinks as she leans closer to the screen… “Can Norris take it away?!?” (Y/n)’s hands clasp around her phone even harder…that was going to leave a mark… Her breath almost stops as she finally hears the words she most desperately wanted to hear… “He Does..!” A wide grin spreads across (Y/n)’s face..

“YES! THAT’S MY BOY! That’s what I told you, didn’t I?!” She jumps off the couch, nearly tripping over her blanket. 

“Oh my god, he did it. He actually—” His name tops the board as she smiled softly...

A few minutes later the recap starts to show when her phone buzzes — FaceTime. She dives for it…

Lando’s still in his suit, flushed from adrenaline, hair damp under the cap, but grinning wider than he has in weeks.

“pole?! Are you kidding me right now?!” (Y/n) smiled as she let out the breath she had been holding for so long…“I told you I drive better when you’re watching.” Lando laughs almost breathlessly until he sits down…

“I need, like, five minutes to calm down. I think I scared my neighbors.” (Y/n) laughed as she let the words out…“I’m serious, (Y/n). I heard your voice the whole damn lap.” Lando says a soft smile on both their faces as (Y/n) reassures him “you earned it…I’m so proud of you..” “I think that’s the only thing I needed to hear.” Lando smiles as silence takes over…not an uncomfortable one…a silence where no one spoke but their worlds were in a perfect sync…

“Go celebrate. I’ll be here… text me when you're free okay?” (Y/n) let it out before she smiled and let the line die…

The days bleed into each other as (Y/n) finds herself hyping Lando up every single race weekend…They don't even realize when Australia bleeds into China and when China bleeds into japan….

Shanghai was nearly perfect…Lando was sharp, focused, and clean. He brings it home P2. On the podium, as the champagne mists the air…as soon as he got down he checked his phone. One message sits at the top:

(N/n): I screamed. Again. My neighbors think I’m unwell. P2, baby! Let’s GO.

He smiles. The kind that slips out even when he’s trying to stay cool for the cameras…

Suzuka was a bit wet…Overnight rain was making it harder but…Lando finished Q3 with a flying lap but still ended behind max — P2 in the race again... As he sips water in the driver’s room, helmet still half-off, his phone rings. (Y/n)’s voice is faintly crackly, half-teasing.

“You’re getting faster by the week. It’s honestly annoying.” (Y/n) chuckled, faking her annoyance as Lando smiled “You know you love it”

“I do.” (Y/n)’s voice rings before they cut the call so Lando could get to the podium…

Japan soon bled into Bahrain as Lando picked up his phone opening her texts…

Lan: Feeling a bit off.

(N/n): It’s okay to feel off. Just don’t let it decide the race.

Lan: Can I call you?

(Y/n)’s phone rings as she takes it and puts it to her ears…“Lan you Know that you don't have to be perfect all the time right?” She lets the words fall out of her mouth softly as she says it in the most genuine way possible…“Just don’t want to disappoint.” “Impossible. You could finish 18th and I’d still think you’re the best driver out there.” “…You don’t make it easy to stay nervous.”

(Y/n) smiled as the line went dead indicating that he had to get ready for the race…

 It was another solid finish. P3. Lando tapped his heart just before the podium — a small, private motion. No one asks, but it meant something. Later that night, Lando sat in front of his screen..(Y/n) on the other side as she planned out the flower arrangement for Kylie's birthday bouquet…

“That one was for you.” Lando let his mouth speak the words as she looked at him with a smile growing on her lips…“Lan…” “I’m not where I want to be yet. But I’m getting there. Thanks for keeping me grounded.” “Anytime. Keep chasing.”

And just like that, The Saudi Arabia race weekend was just around the corner…

(Y/n)’s phone rang across her table as she looked at the caller Id…Lando…a smile laced her lips as she slowly took her phone in her hands…accepting the call… “Hey…” she let the greeting fall off her lips…it had become a routine now… “Hey…” Lando returned but something was lacking…it was different…worry painted raina’s face as she spoke.. “You okay?” “Nervous. The car doesn’t feel right.” (Y/n) let out a soft sigh as she smiled… “Just drive it like it’s stolen and I’m waiting at the finish line with food.” Lando chuckled as he looked at his car from afar.. “That was your motivational speech?” “Want the long version?” “always…”

Jeddah. The walls are close. Q3’s almost done when Lando pushes too much. There was an oversteer, and the car slams the barrier. Red flag. Silence in the commentary box. “Are you okay?” asks his race engineer on the team radio… “Yea im good…fucking idiot”

Later that night Lando resorted to calling (Y/n) without a second thought…he needed her…god it wasn't a joke he seriously needed her…

The door clicks open. He tossed the lanyard on the table, kicked off his shoes. He barely sat down before he grabbed his phone and called her…

As soon as the line connected…there wasn’t any ‘hello’ (Y/n) went straight to the point… “Hey. Stop.” “Stop what?” Lando groaned as he sank to the bed…“Calling yourself an idiot like it’s your full-time job.” Lando sighed as he picked on the sheet of the bed…He exhaled. Silent for a moment. He was not crying, but he was close to breaking in the way tired people do…

“I let the team down. I let you down…” (Y/n) looked at him…as she sighed  “You made a mistake. You're allowed. You don’t have to carry the whole damn team by yourself. Lan you are human…and…and you could never let me down…we both know that…I’m so proud you pulled upto Q3…” He stared at the screen. Then nodded. Quietly… “Thanks…”

The next day He clawed back what he could. Smart, gritty drive. P4 in the end. Not a podium, but a message. After the race…

(N/n): You didn’t let anyone down.

Lan: Still kinda wish you were here.

(N/n): Me too.

Lan: Still I’mSorry.

(N/n): For what? You fought. That’s all that matters.

Lan: I just wanted to give you something to be proud of.

(N/n): You already do. You always do Lan…

Next on the race calendar was Miami… The sun hid behind the clouds. Lando's drive is smart, surgical — the fights for overtakes were entertaining but also a bit overwhelming…The camera catches him smiling into his helmet as he parks up.

(Y/n), back home, ice cream in hand, smiles at the TV feeling mental content…she had been working on controlling the emotions because at this point…her neighbours would get her turned in for yelling too much every weekend…She let her hands find her phone after the podium as she called him… “I’m best friends with a podium merchant.” “You’re best friends with a future world champ.” “I like your version better.”

The check-ins became slow, but not in a bad way. It was a rhythm now. Predictable in the way the best things were. Mid-week memes. Late night “what if” texts. Photos of his helmet. Snapshots of her lunch. Calls that faded into yawns and goodnights. A quiet, steady beat pulsing under everything — unspoken and obvious.

The city hums with warmth. (Y/n) steps out of her familiar corner bookstore, tote bag slung over her shoulder, thumb already flipping through a page. She looks up—and stops.

Lando’s leaning against the lamppost outside. Hoodie on, cap backwards, a small bakery bag in hand. The same crooked smile. The one that always made her feel like she was in on a secret.

She doesn’t think. Just walks straight into him. Her arms wrap around him so tightly, the tote bag slips off her shoulder. His hands find their way around her waist as they wrap around her tiny frame…“I figured this was the best place to find you.” (Y/n) pulled back a bit shocked…“Lan… What—what are you doing here? Race weekend is like 2 weeks apart…” She looked up at him, still a bit confused…“Told the team I needed some London air. They asked why. I said, ‘Got a bookstore girl I need to see.’” 

A chuckle escaped (Y/n)’s lips as she looked up at him  “You’re such an idiot.”  “Missed you too….headphone girl…”

“Oh my god…you have dark circles..” Lando noticed… “Some idiot keeps making me stay up to watch him chase podiums at 3AM.” Lando laughs softly at that before speaking… “…Hope he’s worth it.” She looks up at him. He looks down at her. The summer hums louder around them. “Yeah. He really is…” It was a sleepy Thursday. Sunlight poured in through the old windows, dust dancing in the beams. The store smelled like coffee, old pages, and wildflowers. (Y/n) is tucked behind the counter, humming softly while sorting out receipts...and watering the bouquets 

The bell above the door rings. She looked up, already smiling when she saw it’s him…she faked a tone of annoyance as she smiled…“Do you live here now?” A grin spread across Lando’s face “Would that be a problem?” “Only if you don’t spend 15 minutes after closing the shop to have coffee with me..” “You don’t have to ask...and I brought the cookies...”

She rolled her eyes…a smile on her face… but her hand was already reaching for the bag. They settle behind the counter, quietly sharing cookies like it’s their own little corner of the universe.

A few minutes later, Kylie walks in from the back, sees them both tucked in behind the desk, and stops. “Well, well. If it isn’t Mr. Fast and Curious.” The voice made Lando sit up straight a bit as he fixed his hair…nervousness taking over him…“Hi. Uh—Lando.” He reintroduced himself to kylie… 

“Oh, I know. You’re the guy who’s always on (Y/n)’s phone.” She says as she hands him a cup of coffee…“On the house. And take a bouquet before you go. (Y/n) says the red gardenias remind her of you...” (Y/n)’s face turns a bright shade of red as she tried to stop Kylie from exposing what she had told her about a week ago..“Kylie—”“Shush. Let me be romantic on your behalf.” Kylie waved her hand in protest as she walked back inside to sort out the inventory duties for the next day…

She winks and disappears again, leaving them both flustered.

The store was quieter now. Lando was still there. Sitting on a stool behind the counter, flipping through a random poetry book. (Y/n) was beside him, arms crossed on the counter, eyes tired but honest. “You okay?” (Y/n) silently stares at the beams of sunlight before nodding… “Yeah. Just… sometimes being around you is so easy, it scares me.” He genuinely looks at her as she continues…

“Do you ever feel like you’re constantly earning your place in people’s lives? Like—if you’re not useful, funny, pretty, low-maintenance… they’ll leave?” (Y/n) said as she let her fingers wrap a spare piece of ribbon on them…

 “…Yeah. I get that.” Lando looked at her as he shut the book and pushed it aside, turning to face her… 

“My last relationship—he cheated on me. With my best friend. Told me I was too much. And not enough. Somehow both.” Lando doesn’t speak…he just couldn’t…How could someone not see her…the way he saw her…precious…lovable…his everything… Lando gently placed his hand near hers on the counter. Not touching, just near. Enough to say: ‘I’m here’ 

“Since then….I’ve just been trying to prove that I deserve to stay. In anyone’s life. Even yours.” A blanket of silence fell over then until Lando decided to remove it…“You don’t have to earn your place with me, (N/n). You already have it…”

The hotel room is still. A low amber glow spills from a lamp in the corner. Lando sits on the edge of the bed, hoodie sleeves bunched around his wrists, hair damp from a quick shower. His phone buzzes beside him — muted this time — but he doesn’t check it.

Instead, he reaches for something tucked deep in the lining of his suitcase. A book. The spine creased, the corners softened from travel. He bought it in Australia. Ordered it in the most impulsive way possible…

He continues reading as he reaches the middle of the book…the part.A race. The stakes are high. But it’s not the win that matters.

“He didn’t fight for the win because he needed glory. He fought because someone, somewhere, believed he could — and that made him want to be more than just fast. It made him want to be good.”

And suddenly it’s her — standing behind the counter, sleeves pulled over her palms, pretending to be annoyed when he rearranged the display alphabetically. Her voice when she told him about the ones who left. The look in her eyes when she said she always had to earn her space in someone’s world.

And yet she stood there anyway.

With him.

Not just for the wins. Not for the cameras. But in the quiet spaces in between.

He leans back against the pillows, book resting open across his chest, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if the room itself might give him an answer.

But he already knows it.

“She never asked for anything. Not once. And somehow… she still deserves everything.” There’s no plan yet. No grand gesture. But somewhere in the center of his chest, something starts to settle.

He doesn’t want to win for headlines. Or podiums. Or legacy.

He wants to win for the girl who stayed….

The next day…The shop was quiet, late golden sun bled through the windows. Raina was behind the counter, flipping through a new book she had bought when her phone buzzed…she let her hand find its way to her phone not looking away from the book…she finally looked at her phone and read the text notification

Lan: So… home race. Silverstone. I’ve got an extra pass. For my favourite book snob.

She smiled, biting back a laugh. She unlocked her phone and opened the text…as she quickly typed in a response…

(N/n): Lando, are you seriously trying to lure me with race fuel and overpriced chips?

Lan: Absolutely. I’m also offering front-row seats to me, losing my mind in quali.

(N/n): Tempting.

Lando: (N/n) Come. Please?

Her fingers hover over her keyboard as she finally gives in and accepts it with a smile….

Raina: Okay. I’ll be there….

The days pass by as (Y/n)  counts her days to the grand prix…Lando would occasionally visit her in the shop…and they both had noticed how Kylie had been missing in action for the last 2 days…(Y/n) had enough as finally She speaks up…

“Hey lan? Could you drive me to Kylie’s? I’m kind of getting worried at this point…” Without a hesitation Lando drops her off at Kylie's…But while he was driving to his hotel…his heart drops as he sees the text notification on his phone…

(N/n):  Kylie’s sick. Can’t come. I’m so sorry, Lan. Kill it for me anyway.

Lando sits on his hotel bed as he stared into the wall before laying down and falling asleep…he had a fp1 to worry about anyways…

Two days passed as (Y/n) got too busy taking care of Kylie…Lando was convinced at this point that she would not be attending…

“You should be with him…not me…” Kylie said as she let out a cough and looked up at (Y/n)…(Y/n) sat beside Kylie before sighing…“You need to be taken care of... Jesus, Ky, you’re burning up.”

Kylie gives her a look, groggy but pointed. “(Y/n)… seriously. Go. I’ll be fine.” Kylie tried to convince her…“Not a chance.” “(Y/n).”

She said it like she was summoning her. Like she was asking her to listen, for real.

“You’ve always done this thing, you know? Dropping everything for people. Even the ones who didn’t deserve it.”(Y/n) looked away. Outside the window as she refused to accept it…“But this? This is Lando. And he does.” (Y/n) sighed as she listened quietly…before mumbling…“It’s just a race.” Kylie looks at her firmly…“No, it’s not. Not to him. And definitely not when it’s you he wanted there.”

“I already texted him… Told him I couldn’t come.” Kylie groaned as she mumbled... “You idiot.” She took (Y/n)’s hand in hers as (Y/n) spoke…“I didn’t want to let you down.” Kylie softly looked at her as she spoke… “You never let me down. But (Y/n) — don’t you get it? That boy looks at you like… like you’re the win he never knew he was allowed to chase.”...Silence dawns upon (Y/n) as she blinks slowly. Kylie whispers as (Y/n) looks into her eyes…“Go. Before you start convincing yourself he doesn’t care. Because I promise you — he really, really does.”

It was buzzing. Crowds. Cameras. Fans. Mechanics. Lando stood near the garage, helmet in hand, in full race suit. His usual energy was off. A little flat. He checks his phone again. Nothing.

Until—

“You look like you’re about to fight someone.”

He spins.  There she was…Lanyard around her neck, hoodie tucked into her jeans, windblown and out of breath. And smiling.

Lando’s breath catches. Then without even thinking, he pulls her in — arms around her, tight, grounded, like she’s the only thing real in this entire buzzing paddock.

“I thought you weren’t coming.” “Kylie changed my mind.” “God, I missed you.” “You saw me three days ago.” “Not like this.”

They stood there, forehead to shoulder, in the middle of the chaos, while the team let them be for just a moment.

She watched from the McLaren garage, hands clenched, heart in her throat. The energy was electric. Lando was in the lead. Lap after Lap, he’s flawless — focused, feral, faster than she’s ever seen him.

Lap 50 of 52. A Red Bull looms in his mirrors — relentless.

Then — the DRS zone.

The move comes clean and brutal. Lando defends. He tries. But the Red Bull slices through with three corners to go.

He finishes P2.

He got out of the car. Helmet off. Cameras flash. The crowd roared. His name was everywhere. But he barely lifted his eyes. He walked to her. Slowly. Like the world is a little heavier than it was before.

(Y/n) grinned up at him…“P2! Lan, that was—insane. Everyone’s freaking out!..He didn’t smile. Didn’t meet her eyes. (Y/n) sensed the change in his body language as her tone softened…“Hey. What’s wrong?”

He swallowed hard, as he replied in an almost frustrated tone…“I wanted to win that race.” (Y/n) flinched a bit due to his tone being unpredictable..“…Lando, you nearly did. That was—” He cut her off…his voice a bit louder and desperate… “No. I didn’t want to win it for the team. Or for the media. I wanted to win it for you.”

She stared at him as her heart caught in her chest. Lando’s voice broke softly as he tried to speak…

 “You showed up. After everything. After I thought you wouldn’t. And I thought… I thought if I won, maybe you’d see what you mean to me. Like it would say it without me needing to say it. I don’t know.”

She stepped forward. Quietly. her eyes softened as she held his hand. “Lando…” He looks away, jaw clenched, ashamed. She pulled him in — arms around him. Tight. Reassuring. Unshakable. She softly spoke into his ear…“You don’t have to prove anything to me. Not now. Not ever.”He exhaled — like something inside him finally gave up the fight.

“You’re already everything I’d ever cheer for.”

They stay there, pressed together in the middle of the storm. Around them, the paddock whirled. But inside this hug, there was quiet. Steady. Real.

Because he didn’t win the race.

But maybe… for once… he didn’t have to…

The sun dipped behind the trees as Lando and (Y/n) pulled into Kylie’s quiet neighborhood. The Post race buzz faded into calm. The car still hummed softly beneath them as Lando glanced at her — her legs folded up in the passenger seat, hoodie sleeves pushed over her hands, the P2 cap now backwards on her head.

“Wearing that like you earned it.” “I carried you emotionally through half the season. I deserve it.”

He laughed, but there was something softer in the way he looked at her. She didn’t notice. Or pretended not to. Kylie opened the door…blanket slung over one shoulder and tea in hand. 

“About time. You made him podium just to get out of bringing soup, didn’t you?” (Y/n) hugged her tight. Kylie groaned like it hurts — and it probably does — but she still pulled (Y/n)in harder. “Don’t get sappy, I’m just here to drop you your disgusting peppermint tea.” Kylie waved her off.“Actually, could you run to the corner shop? I forgot milk and you’re faster than the average dying woman.” Kylie said mischievously as she sat down on one of her chairs“Unbelievable.” (Y/n) mumbled knowing exactly what Kylie was planning… “Don’t scare him while I’m gone.” Kylie raises her eyebrows in mock innocence. (Y/n) disappears out the door.

Lando stands awkwardly nearby, unsure whether to sit or bolt. “Relax. I’m not gonna bite.” Kylie chuckles as she turns to him, motioning him to sit…Lando takes a seat opposite to her and lets a chuckle out before stopping and clearing his throat... 

“So…What do you mean to her?”

Lando blinks, almost confused as he stares at Kylie for some sort of explanation to what she just said…“What?” He blurts out a confused expression painted over his face…

“(Y/n). You just ran a whole race like she was the finish line. You’re here. You’re always here. So I’m asking — what do you mean to her? And more importantly — what does she mean to you?”

He shifts, kylie had caught him off guard…awfully awkwardly…and exposingly..he sighed as he looked at her…“I don’t… I don’t think she knows.” Kylie shakes her head as she disagrees... “That’s not what I asked.”

He looks down at his hands. Then out the window. Then he just lets his heart accept it and speak over his brain….“She’s... she’s the first person who never saw me as just the guy in the car. She listens like I’m more than the stats or the wins. And when things go wrong, she doesn’t flinch. She just—stays.” 

Kylie smiles as she drinks her tea and looks at him approvingly… “I'm happy that you finally decided to accept it instead of beating around the bush like you have been doing since the first day I saw you with her…” Lando chuckled as he looked away while Kylie continued…“She’s always had to earn her place. With friends. With that trashfire of an ex. She’s always afraid of being too much. Or not enough.”

Lando swallows. Hard.

“She doesn’t know how much she means to you. And that girl—she’s smart, but she’s oblivious. So if she means something to you, and I mean really means something—say it. Because she’s not going to see it unless you put it right in front of her face.”

He’s quiet. But his jaw’s tight. And behind the silence is something certain…“She means everything.” He blurts out before he even realizes it himself…his eyes widen as he realizes what he had just said as he lets it sink in…

She means everything… She means everything… She means everything…

Kylie studies him for a long moment. Then smiles — small, knowing, satisfied…“Good.” Kylie smiles…

The sound of the knob of the door is heard... (Y/n)’s back. Lando doesn’t move.

But something in him has…

The car hums softly as Lando drives through the quiet streets of London. The world outside is dim and washed in rainlight, but inside the car, there's an unspoken energy — a new rhythm between them, something that's been building.

(Y/n) stared out the window as she sighed…“You sure you’re okay?” She turned her head facing Lando who had his eyes on the road…“Yeah, just... one of those days.” A grin plastered (Y/n)’s face as she chuckled…“Kylie grilled you, didn’t she?” A small chuckle left Lando’s throat as he looked at her from the corner of his eye while still keeping his focus on the road…“Yeah, well... Kylie's pretty good at making me spill my guts. I didn’t even see it coming.”

“She just... wants to make sure you're good for me. You know?” (Y/n) said as she sighed… “Yeah. I get it.”

The quiet settles between them again, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s something... familiar. Different…It was as if even if no one spoke they would stay next to each other…just in the presence of each other…

Suddenly (Y/n) turned to face him…“You know, you don’t have to always prove yourself.”...Her words catch him off guard. He looks at her, surprised by the sudden honesty in her voice.

“Prove myself?” He asked…“Yeah. You’re always running after something... like you’re trying to show people you’re worthy. But you don’t need to do that. Not for me.”

Her words hit deeper than he expects. For a moment, he’s silent, processing what she’s saying. He’s always running. Always trying to be better, to do more. But with her? It feels different.

He quietly mutters to himself…“Maybe I want to prove something to myself. Not just the team, or anyone else.”

She’s quiet for a beat. Then, she glances at him, a little smile tugging at her lips. “I guess we’re both trying to figure that out, huh?”  A smile ghosts Lando’s lips…“Yeah. Seems like it.”

Lando parked the car outside her building, the engine purring to a stop. They sat there for a moment, neither rushing to get out. The air between them felt charged. They shared a silence, but it was of the comfortable kind.

(Y/n) finally took a deep breath as she took off her seatbelt…“Thanks for the ride.”...Lando nodded, his hands lingering on the wheel for a moment longer than necessary. He didn’t want this to end. Not yet. “Anytime…Let me walk you…” He looked at her…his eyes showed sincerity…but also of wanting to stay with her…he felt anchored whenever he was with her…she was his everything…

They both got out of the car and walked towards the entrance of her building. As they reached the door, (Y/n) stopped, turning to face him. There was something different in her eyes now — something unspoken, a spark neither of them knew how to put into words.

He stood there for a second, his thoughts swirling. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to say it out loud — how much she meant to him. How everything had changed, how he was not sure he could keep pretending like it was all just a friendship. But he doesn’t. He can't. He caught his tongue at the last second.

(Y/n) pulled her bag over her shoulder as she smiled up at him softly… “Thanks for the ride…” She smiled softly and he saw her…she was looking up at him…like she was searching his face for something…maybe to get a hint of what he was thinking of…but it was there…in the way he stood…and the way he looked at her…He opened his mouth, but the words didn’t come out. Instead, he just smiled a little, his gaze softening… “You’ll be okay?” He asked…hoping she would ask him to spend more time with her…but they both knew that they should call it a day…(Y/n) smiled as she sighed softly…“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

She turned to head into her apartment, but as she reached for the door handle, she paused and looked back one last time. Lando’s standing in front of her, his back to the door, watching her.

The door clicked open. (Y/n) stepped inside, but before she fully closed it, she leaned against it for a moment. Her heart’s pounding ��� she was not sure why. She didn't know if it’s the way Lando’s eyes followed her or if it’s the conversation, the weight of it, that’s left her hanging in the air.

On the other side of the door, Lando leaned back against it too, eyes closed. His heart pounded in his chest. He was still standing there, thinking about how everything had shifted. How much she mattered to him. But he didn’t know how to say it yet. How to make it real.

And so, for the first time, they both sat with the unsaid. (Y/n) finally sighs as she makes her way to her room and calls it a night…

The next day…It was delivery day.

Buckets clattered onto the pavement, packed with sunflowers, peonies, and lilies. The air smelled like spring and sleep. Lando was there, hoodie clinging to his frame after a morning run, sleeves shoved up, eyes squinting in the sun…after he begged Kylie to let him help…(Y/n) fumbled with the keys, still groggy, she teased him as he nearly tripped over a rogue bucket…“You’re useless with your center of gravity messed up.” “And yet—somehow still more helpful than your cardboard arms.” (Y/n) chuckled as she rolled her eyes before finally getting the lock and opening the door of the shop letting them in…Then — mid-lift, breath shallow, words low and too easy — he said it…“I’d carry your entire life if you asked.”

Silence. (Y/n) turned around and looked at him as she let her hands rest on her waist…The world doesn’t stop, but it slows. Lando blinked like he didn’t mean to say it aloud. “…what?” (Y/n) questioned him as she looked at him…Lando cleared his throat as he looked away trying his hardest to convince her not to push at what he just said… “Nothing. Forget it.”

And indeed she doesn’t answer. Doesn’t push. But something had cracked open between them — not broken, just… unguarded. New…They lift the rest in silence. Side by side. The kind of silence that buzzes with everything left unsaid. From the side door, Kylie appeared… steaming coffee in one hand, sunglasses perched in her messy hair… She watched the two of them, their shoulders brushed as they moved inside, the atmosphere still humming.

She took a slow sip as she smiled to herself…“You know what? I’m taking the morning off.” She said as (Y/n) blinked at her confused… “Wait—what?”...“Shop’s in good hands.”

Kylie disappears down the sidewalk, chuckling to herself… Inside the shop, the air smelled like fresh lilies and unsaid feelings…Neither of them dared to speak about it — not yet…But both of them felt it. Something changed…

That day…(Y/n) closed the shop early…They both walked to a nearby corner bookstore and started walking through the aisles of the different genres… (Y/n) found a vintage copy of a poetry book that she had been hunting for…a soft cover, worn spine, her eyes lit up like the first time he saw her talk about flowers…She walked to the counter, book and card in hand...But Lando swooped in infront of her…“Lan…I’ve got it. Don’t even think about—” She tries to say as Lando cuts her off by tapping his card on the machine…“Too late.” A groan erupted from (Y/n)’s throat as she mumbled…“Lando—come on. I can buy my own books.”...“Yeah. But I wanted to.” She stared at him, part shocked and part scared of becoming a burden... and he just shrugs, like it’s not a big deal…

Later, outside the shop, she reaches into his jacket pocket to pull out a receipt — and a small, worn photo flutters out of his wallet…It’s of her.

Tied-up apron. Sleeves rolled. Head bowed slightly as she arranged a bouquet. Sunlight haloed her hair…(Y/n) picked it up, stunned…“You kept this?” her voice came out almost as a whisper…

A soft smile ghosted Lando’s face as he said…“It’s my lucky charm.”...Her voice catches..“Why that one?”...“Because you look like peace. And I need that.”

She didn’t respond. She just folded the photo back carefully and handed it to him like it’s something sacred…And that’s the moment she realized — It wasn’t just about the book. It has never been just about the book…

They both ended up walking to (Y/n)’s apartment…She unlocked the door and let them both in… “shit…I forgot all about the clothes…” she mumbled… “sit here…I’ll go fold them up first…” “No..I want to help…” Lando looks at her as he stands up… “Please…” He lets out as (Y/n) smiles, folding in and letting him follow her to her bedroom… It had started to rain…Big, soaking drops on the windows. The kind of storm that made the world feel smaller… “You ready to get absolutely smoked at folding?” Lando grinned at her…(Y/n) chuckled as she looked at him the same mischievous way… “Please. You don’t even match your own socks.” “Fashion is subjective.”

The competition was absurd, messy, and full of laughter. She barely won. By a second. Maybe less….He started folding one of her hoodies — and stopped…It was her favorite. Worn. Soft. It smelled like her eucalyptus shampoo, like her space. He held it a moment too long.

 “You gonna cry over a hoodie, Norris?” (Y/n) teased him as she patted his back softly…He didn't answer. Instead he Just folded it with care, walked over to the shelf without asking, and tucked it in the exact right spot. Then folded the grey tassel blanket and draped it over the back of the couch. Right where it always goes…She watched him quietly…Because he knew where it all went…Because he knew her.

Later, the movie played in the background, rain still coming down — neither of them wanted to leave. The atmosphere was pretty cold as she brought out two blankets…offering one to him…he immediately denied…“Wanna just share?”...He didn’t wait for her to answer, just draped half of it over her. They sat, warm and quiet. A stupid rom-com played, forgotten…They don’t touch. Not really. Their backs were turned. Their hands, almost brushed…

(Y/n) fell asleep first…Hours later, he woke up and found her curled closer in her sleep, head nearly on his shoulder. His arm under her. Like it belonged there. He didn't move. He didn't have to. Because it felt like something that should never be interrupted…

The days almost bleed into each other as only three days are left…The countdown began... The British Grand Prix was long over. Lando's next one loomed over them indicating that he had to leave…and they would go back to (Y/n) pep talking to him every time on call before his practice sessions or quali or race day…

They don’t say it, but they both felt the weight of time. The weight of distance returning. The thought of going back to calls and text bubbles, instead of coffee and shared blankets.

And then Kylie called…

Lando showed up with a bag of groceries and a half-empty box of tea (Y/n) sweared by…Kylie was in sweats, hair in a messy bun. She let him in and nodded toward the couch…“She’s at the shop. I needed to talk to you alone.” She said before going and sitting cross-legged on the couch while Lando awkwardly paced in front of her, a nervous energy about him that didn't match his usual carefree charm… “Do you plan on wearing a hole in my rug, or are you gonna sit down?” Kylie said as she sipped on her cup of tea…

Lando sighed…flopping onto the edge of the couch, and ran a hand through his hair…“She’s just… she makes everything feel like it’s slowing down. Like the noise goes away.”

“You mean like peace?” Kylie said as she smiled gently…He nodded but couldn’t look up to meet her eyes yet…“Yeah. That.”

Kylie watched him as her voice softened…“You know, she thinks she’s easy to leave.” Lando looked up, startled by Kylie speaking suddenly…“She won’t say it out loud. But I see it. Every time you leave — she braces. Like she’s already preparing to be forgotten.”

He swallowed hard. That landed deeper than he expected…“I could never forget her.” Lando let it out like a whisper but Kylie heard it…“I know that. But does she?”

Silence.

“She thinks the people she loves always choose something else over her. Your next race. Her ex. Her old best friend. She’s wired herself to expect it.”

Lando clenched his jaw. The ache of her words settled in his chest.

“She matters, Lando. So much. But she’ll never say it. So if you feel something real, don’t leave her guessing.”

She paused and eyed him with a look that felt she was about to say something that would hit the deepest… 

“You don’t have to win a race to prove it. You just have to show up. Now. While you still can.”

Lando leaned back, heart thudding and for the first time, he felt it — the edge of everything he hadn’t said pressing against the inside of his chest, ready to spill out…But he just nodded.

Because somehow, Kylie always saw right through them both…

The rain was soft but steady, casting a sheen over the sidewalk…(Y/n) was locking up the shop, hoodie pulled up, hair damp. She jumped slightly when she turned and saw him standing there, hands in his pockets, eyes on her like he’d been waiting for hours…A concerned tone laced (Y/n)’s voice as she spoke…

“Lando? What are you—are you okay? It’s pouring.”

He stepped forward, barely flinching at the rain…“I needed to see you.”“Everything alright?”

He hesitated. Then looked at her the way someone does right before jumping off a cliff…“I’m leaving in three days.”...Her expression softens, nodding slowly.

“I know. That’s okay.” Lando shook his head as he stepped a bit closer and gulped…“No. It’s not…She frowned tilting her head…“Lando—” But he cut her off… “You keep saying it’s okay. That you’ll stand by me. And I love that about you. I need that. But it’s not okay for me. Because I don’t want to go back to pretending this isn’t something real.”

Her breath catches. His voice was quieter but urgent, rain catched on his lashes… “You matter more than anything I’ve done this year. More than any podium. More than any trophy. I wanted to win that race for you because... you’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to come home to.”

She blinked. Didn’t speak. Just stared at him — like he had said something she had been waiting her whole life to hear…“I’m not asking you to follow me. I’m just asking you to believe that no matter where I go — you’re what I’m coming back for.”...and just like that, something crumbled and rebuilded in the same breath…Raina took a step forward, lifted her hand to his rain-soaked cheek…“Then go. And race. But don’t think for a second I’m standing behind you.”She touched her forehead to his.

“I’ve always been right beside you.” He closed his eyes…and for the first time in months, the noise really did stop…Just rain. Just them…And finally, no more unspoken things between them.

The air was sleepy, mist curling low on the ground. The city hadn’t fully woken…Raina walked Lando down the stairs, hoodie sleeves tugged over her hands. He was in jeans and a cap, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, tired but not from lack of sleep — from trying not to memorize everything about her face one last time…They stopped just outside the building.

Silence hanged…“Text me when you land?” (Y/n) smiled up at him…her arms wrapping around herself as she looked up at him… “I will. Even before, probably. You’ll get sick of me.” Lando smiled down at her as she replied…“Already am…He laughed, but it was a little uneven…They stood there, facing each other. The quiet is weighty in a gentle way — like the calm before something changes. She shifted slightly, like she was about to step back, but he didn't let her…Instead, he tugged lightly at the sleeve of her hoodie.

“I don’t want this to be one of those things we almost said. Or something that fades just because I got on a plane.”...Her eyes lift to his…He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone.

“So... I was thinking. When I get back…”

He types something. Turned the phone to show her…A reservation screen for a quiet little place by the water. Candlelight. A real table. Her name…

“A proper date. You. Me. No race weekend chaos. Just dinner. And I am trying very hard not to be completely stupid around you.”

Her brows lifted, amused and touched and blinking fast…“You want to date me, Norris?”..He shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

“Kinda already am. Just figured I should make it official before some other idiot realizes how impossible it is not to fall for you.”...Her breath hitches.

She stepped forward and kissed him softly before she wrapped her arms around him, face tucked into his chest, words muffled but full…“You better come back in one piece.”....He leaned his cheek to her hair, holding her tighter than he probably should…“Always. I’ve got someone to come home to now.”

They pull apart slowly, reluctant. The cab waited at the corner…He lingered a second longer. A smile ghost’s Lando’s lips as he walks to the cab…

“Don’t forget — candlelight, good food, and you trying very hard not to fall harder for me.”

(Y/n) called after him…“No promises, Norris!”

He turned, walking backward for a beat, eyes still on her. “Save me a bouquet.” He says with a smile… “Save me a podium.” She replies as she waves softly…

And with that, he goes — but not really gone. Because this time, he’s coming back to her.

©WHOISRAII 2025 ━ do not copy, steal, post somewhere else or translate my work without my permission.

[greengoblinswifey]

Shattered— Nicholas Chavez x Actress!Reader

summary— you’re an actress on the brink of fame and you fall for your co-star Nicholas Chavez. discovering his secret coupled with your unexpected pregnancy changes your entire dynamic.

warnings— cheating, mentions of infertility, mature language, grief and loss, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of unprotected sex, abortion, manipulation.

a/n— kinda long but i’m a slut for angst, also this is all just my imagination and fantasy, it’s not based on nicholas irl <3

Alternative Ending

From the very first time you got an acting role, your manager told you, never engage in relations with your co stars. Looking down at the two positive pregnancy tests on the counter, you wished you had taken heed to her wise words.

You and Nicholas had been thrown into the spotlight together, both relatively new to the fame game. As co-stars, you’d developed a chemistry that felt electric, especially during your lovey-dovey scenes on camera.

As the filming progressed, those on-screen moments started to seep into your off-screen life. You’d find yourselves stealing kisses between takes, getting lost in long conversations about everything from your childhood dreams to your favorite late-night snacks. It was easy to forget that this was just work. You felt like you knew each other inside out.

One evening, after a particularly long day, you were in your trailer, and the laughter just flowed. “I really like this,” Nicholas said, leaning closer, his eyes locked onto yours. “It feels special, you know?”

You nodded, heart racing. “Yeah, it does. I’m just scared of what happens after this season wraps. Will we still have this?”

Nick brushed a thumb across your cheek, his gaze intense. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise I’ll always be here.”

You couldn’t help it; you leaned in and kissed him, the connection between you two crackling like electricity. Everything felt perfect in that moment, but in the back of your mind, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

What were you missing? Why did he keep his life back home so close to his chest?

As your days turned into nights filled with mind blowing sex, you tried to enjoy every second, but the nagging doubt wouldn’t disappear. You were falling for him, and you wondered if he felt the same way, or if this was just a fun distraction for him.

As filming continued, he made sure to keep the relationship casual, reassuring you that it was all good between you two. “You know I care about you, right?” he’d say between takes, pulling you close, his lips pressing against your forehead, “But a public relationship? It might restrict me from getting certain roles.” You nodded, wanting to be supportive. After all, you understood the pressure of the industry. But deep down, a nagging thought lingered, was there more to it than that?

Still, you brushed off your doubts. You were wrapped up in the excitement of your new life, enjoying every moment of intimacy with Nicholas, nights spent tangled in sheets, whispering sweet nothings, and experiencing a side of Hollywood that felt like a dream. There were moments when he’d use condoms, and others when he’d pull out, but you never worried about getting pregnant. You knew you were infertile, and that fact brought you a strange sense of comfort.

During one of your casual conversations, you mentioned your part-time passion for photography. Nick lit up at the idea, and you quickly arranged for him to meet a photographer friend of yours who worked for magazines. “I’ll be sure to use them,” he said, his tone light. You didn’t think much of it, just a favor for a friend.

Then came the twist, Nick’s character was off the show for a few episodes. He returned to his hometown, and suddenly, the set felt empty without him. You missed him deeply, especially because you’d been feeling under the weather lately. The sickness hung over you, but you knew he needed a break so you didn’t bother him in staying.

As the days went by, his texts became infrequent. You found yourself wondering if something was wrong. Maybe he was just busy? Maybe he was having fun back home? And then, you noticed your period was late. You weren’t scared per se, you remembered the infertility diagnosis, but something felt off.

In a moment of playful distraction, you called your sister. “I’m late,” you joked, half-laughing. “Maybe I should take a pregnancy test?” She encouraged you, laughter spilling over the phone, making it feel lighthearted.

You picked up two tests from the store, ensuring they weren’t expired. When you took the tests, you expected nothing. But to your shock, both tests came back positive.

The laughter faded, replaced by disbelief. You dropped the phone, feeling a wave of panic crash over you. Pregnant? How could this happen? You were still so new in your career, and Nicholas. How would you even tell him? Would he be happy? He had dreams to chase, and now there was a little life to consider.

Your mind raced with possibilities and worries. You knew you needed to talk to Nicholas but the fear of how he’d react was large. You’d built something beautiful, but this was a twist neither of you had planned.

The days dragged on as you tried to process everything. You took a few days to cool off, completely unsure how to proceed. The set was chaotic, your mind was racing while you were trying to act normal. Multiple takes of one scene felt like torture, especially when you had to run off to throw up in between. The directors were patient, but you could sense their frustration growing. You felt guilty, this pregnancy wasn’t their fault, and yet you were struggling to keep it together.

Just two days before Nicholas was set to return, the chaos hit a new level. You received a message from the photographer you had linked Nicholas with. “Check out how cute your co-star looks with his girlfriend!” it read, accompanied by a series of images. You froze as you opened the photos. There he was, Nicholas, beaming in a pregnancy announcement photoshoot with a woman. A woman who was his girlfriend.

Shock coursed through you as confusion and anger collided. Your heart sank, it felt like a punch to the gut. You hadn’t taken any photos with Nicholas, and now you realized why he had been so secretive about his life outside of filming. He was expecting a baby with her. You wanted to scream, shout, break things, or blow up his phone. But instead, you just sat there, staring blankly at the screen, tears streaming down your face.

You ran to the trailer bathroom, clutching your stomach as nausea washed over you. You felt it to your core, the reality of your situation was devastating. He had been playing you both, living a lie, and now here you were, grappling with the knowledge that your pregnancy was based on deception.

Days passed like a blur. You did your best to get through filming, but every time you returned to your trailer, the reality of the life growing inside you became unbearable. You would throw up and clutch your stomach, feeling the weight of what was supposed to be a beautiful moment turned sour by lies.

Finally, the day arrived when Nicholas returned to set. He burst into your trailer, the energy in the room instantly shifting. “I missed you!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around you and planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. But you just sat there, staring blankly at him, the pregnancy tests in hand, proof of the life you were now burdened with.

He pulled back, looking at you with concern. “What’s wrong?”

The words caught in your throat. You were ready to confront him, ready to expose the web of lies. But all you could manage was a shaky breath, your heart racing in your chest as you prepared for the storm ahead.

With shaky hands, you thrust the pregnancy tests into Nicholas’s face, your heart pounding. “Here.”

He looked at the tests, confusion swirling in his eyes. “W-what? What the fuck is this. Is this… are you pregnant?” The realization hit him hard, and you could see the panic creeping in.

“Yeah, I am!” you shot back, your voice rising.

“Fucking hell!” he shouted, “my- my fucking career is just taking off, I’m filming a show, this- this wasn’t supposed to get this far.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” You couldn’t believe the things he was saying. “My career is just taking off, I’m filming a show too Nicholas.”

His expression shifted, the initial panic giving way to something more defensive. “I can’t handle this right now! My career is just starting, and I didn’t want to be tied down like this.”

Anger bubbled up inside you, boiling over like a volcano. You could sense the manipulation in his tone, the way he was shifting the blame onto you. “It’s always about you, isn’t it?” you yelled, pushing him away. “You’re just thinking about yourself!”

He reached for you, attempting to pull you back into his embrace, whispering, “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this out.” But you shoved him off, your emotions raw and unfiltered.

“Figure this out?” you screamed, your voice echoing in the small trailer. “How can you say that when you’re two-timing? Look at these!” You threw your phone at him, the pregnancy announcement photos landing in his lap. His face twisted with fury.

“Are you serious right now?” he shouted, his anger igniting. “I made a mistake with one of them! It wasn’t supposed to go this far! We’re filming a show together; I can’t just drop everything!”

You stared at him in disbelief. “You’re not the Nicholas I thought I knew. How can you act like this? You’re a fucking two-faced liar, sleeping with two girls and getting both of us pregnant!”

He raked a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of frustration and despair. “I can’t do this. Not now. You need to- you need to get an abortion.”

The words hung heavy in the air, crashing down around you. You looked at him, heart sinking, disbelief coursing through you. “Are you serious? You want me to end this?”

Nicholas looked away, the weight of his own choices crashing down on him. But it was too late, the damage had been done.

Nicholas’s voice was cold and detached. “Yes, I want you to get an abortion. I’ll give you money for it. You need to have it gone by tonight.”

You felt your heart shatter all over again. “How can you refer to our baby as ‘it’?” The bitterness in your voice was undeniable.

He shrugged, pacing the small trailer. “I don’t know what an abortion can do to your body, but you’ll need time to rest. What are you going to tell production?”

You shook your head in disbelief. “I don’t know either! But how can you be so heartless?”

“Listen I can’t deal with this, I have a girlfriend and a baby on the way,” he muttered, lowly.

You couldn't take it anymore. “No! I am your girlfriend! WE have a baby on the way, or at least I thought I was your girlfriend!”

Nicholas stopped pacing, his expression a mixture of guilt and confusion. He ran a hand over his face, clearly overwhelmed.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to be,” he muttered, unsure of what to say next.

Then, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him, he turned and left the trailer without another word, leaving you alone in the silence.

You hugged yourself tightly, tears streaming down your cheeks. The reality of your situation crashed down on you. You felt utterly lost, your heart aching for the life you once envisioned, now shattered.

That night, you lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, your mind spiraling as you weighed your options. If you kept the baby, everything would change. Your career, just beginning to gain traction, would be stalled indefinitely. You’d be a single mother, left alone to care for a child Nicholas had already written off. And as a man, he’d be fine. Even with two babies on the way, he wouldn’t be the one carrying or caring for them.

On the other hand, if you didn’t keep it, you weren’t even sure if you’d get another chance. The thought tore at you, but you knew what the world would say. They’d call you a homewrecker, maybe even try to destroy your reputation, and all without knowing the truth. It would be you, bearing the weight of his lies.

Finally, with a heavy heart, you booked the appointment for the next morning. You went alone, tears streaming down your face as you went through it, feeling each moment echo in the hollow of your chest. By the time filming started later that day, you were late, your spirit shattered.

Nicholas spotted you as soon as you walked onto set. He approached, his voice low, but his eyes sharp. “Is it done?”

You nodded, feeling a hollow ache that reached all the way down to your bones. You could barely look at him, but when you did, all you felt was disgust. He added, as if it was some minor detail, “Don’t even think of reaching out to my girlfriend.” You couldn’t believe how cold he’d become, as if you were nothing more than a piece of his past.

Then the call for your scene echoed across the set, and you took your place opposite him. It was a romantic moment, a kiss, meant to be tender and full of passion. But when his lips touched yours, it felt like everything was wrong. The kiss was forced, awkward, each movement filled with a desperation neither of you could hide.

When the director called, “Cut,” you pulled away and fled, barely making it to your trailer before the tears began to flow. Just hours ago, you were carrying his child. Now, all that remained was an empty ache and a broken heart. In some twisted way, you felt almost relieved that you no longer had a part of him inside you. And yet, the loss left you feeling like a shell of who you once were.

A few days after the procedure, you felt like you had nothing left of him. Nothing to show for the life you’d once carried, the part of him that had been yours alone. He had been such a huge part of your life just days before, and in mere hours, that illusion had shattered completely.

The filming continued, and soon the news of his pregnancy announcement with his girlfriend went public. You watched as the set was buzzing with congratulatory wishes for him. Everyone beamed at Nicholas, showering him with smiles and words of celebration. Meanwhile, you did your best to hold yourself together, concealing the sadness that now rested in the hollow of your heart.

When the season finally wrapped, the months that followed became a time of rebuilding. You put everything into healing, into rediscovering yourself. By the premiere night, you were the picture of poise and confidence, draped in a red dress that turned heads. When you stepped onto the red carpet, even Nicholas did a double take, momentarily caught off guard by your transformation.

After the red carpet, he approached, offering a hollow smile. “So, how are you feeling? I just need to know, it’s really done, right?” He hesitated, glancing around, and added, “I heard sometimes fetuses survive abortion…”

The audacity of his words made you sick. Anger sparked in you, and you hissed, barely holding back your rage. “Yes, Nicholas. Our baby is dead. Thanks to you.” You were barely a few weeks along so you wouldn’t have considered it a baby but you wanted to say anything to knock him down.

As the night continued, you managed to keep your composure, even when his pregnant girlfriend approached you with a sweet smile, chatting as if you hadn’t unknowingly been fucking her boyfriend raw. All the while, Nicholas hovered nearby, his eyes sharp, ensuring you didn’t let anything slip. You walked away feeling relief. He’d no longer have a hold on you.

The following months brought a fresh start. You threw yourself into work, your career skyrocketing as you landed a massive film role. Meanwhile, Nicholas seemed to fade from the spotlight, mostly at home with his girlfriend, waiting for their baby. Until, finally, karma came for him, an article revealed that the child he thought was his was actually someone else’s, belonging to a rockstar his girlfriend had left him for.

You couldn’t help the satisfaction that spread through you. He’d reaped exactly what he’d sown, and you hadn’t lifted a finger.

The Oscar nomination was the pinnacle of your success, and the night of the awards ceremony arrived. To your surprise, Nicholas showed up, desperate to find you. He cornered you at last, offering a string of apologies and congratulations, asking for another chance now that he was alone. But you saw through him, his desire was only to latch onto your newfound fame. You looked him in the eyes, remembering everything he’d put you through. He had destroyed you, once. But you had risen again, and he was nothing to you now.

Without a word, you turned and walked away, leaving him to watch as you went forward, leaving him in the past for good.

[cirruslush]

「fake rumours」

PART 1 ꩜

an enemies to lovers type of story

hamzahthefantastic x reader

mentions: ANGST, gentle choking , making out, pinning, no smut

The worst thing about Hamzah wasn’t the fact that he was infuriatingly perfect. It wasn’t the way he always seemed one step ahead, or how his stupid cocky smirk could make my blood boil in seconds. It wasn’t even the fact that, he always managed to look effortlessly cool while I was struggling to keep my temper in check.

No. The worst thing about him was that, somehow, he’d always be able to easily find his way back in my head, as if it was the road to home that you blindly know about.

-

-

Me and Hamzah have been friends for quite some time now, considering our parents were friends even before we were born.

His mom adored me as if I were her own, and would always call me over for dinner, or just to study n hangout with Hamzah since we had a lot of classes in common.

Senior year, finally. One of the most stressful and overwhelming grades for many, but also one of the most exciting as well.

On one hand, it’s your last year of high school, which means making memories with friends, and the anticipation of what’s next. There’s a sense of freedom, like you’re standing on the edge of something bigger. But at the same time, it can feel like a lot of pressure—college applications, final exams, and the weight of what comes after.

Fortunately for you, school and life have been “caressing” you almost, but it’s only March, and you didn’t want to jinx anything

The multi-day senior trip is coming up soon and your heart was beating out of your chest, preparing your clothes days before the trip and planning what to do with your friends at night was like preparing for your first summer vacation.

You and your friends had been counting down the days for what felt like forever—talking about who was rooming with who, which places you were going to visit, and, of course, the late-night shit you all were determined to pull off. This trip felt like a rite of passage, a celebration of everything you’d gone through together—years of awkward moments, shared laughs, inside jokes, and even the occasional fighting. But now, it was all coming to an end.

The reality of graduation creeping up was starting to feel more tangible, more real. You caught yourself staring out the window, wondering how it all passed so quickly. Wasn’t it just yesterday you were entering high school, full of nervous energy? Now, you were at the finish line, ready to take the plunge into adulthood.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed, pulling you out of your thoughts. It was a call from Hamzah. You hesitated for a moment before answering, his name lighting up the screen bringing a familiar comfort with it.

“Hey, what’s up?” you answered, trying to keep your tone casual, though you could hear your own excitement slipping through.

“Have you done packing up yet?” Hamzah’s voice came through, upbeat and teasing.

“Almost,” you replied, glancing at the half-packed suitcase on your bed. “Just getting the last few things together. You?”

“I’m done, finally.” He signed loudly, and you could practically picture him lounging on his bed, phone in hand, his usual laid-back tone in full effect.

“I’m glad. Would you like my mom to drive us to school tomorrow instead?” you said jumping out of your seat, going to the bathroom, to grab your toothbrush “If your mom’s okay with it, always.”

“Sure why not, I’ll text you in a bit.” he replied, and before you knew it, he had already hung up.

Hamzah’s been kinda weird lately. He keeps teasing you in someway, yet being more distant by the days. You thought maybe it was some type of romantic disappointment, or something had happened at home, but you didn’t want to stress him even more by asking, right before the trip at that.

*bzz* the phone buzzed once again, it was a message this time, by your girl best friend. You quickly jumped on your bed, unlocking it

ANNA

hello beautiful sunshine 💕 Actually i’ve been meaning to talk to you about something, but i couldn’t gather the courage to tell you in person. I think Hamzah’s been talking behind your back…I happen to have overheard a conversation he had today, at school with one of his friends, and he said something about you being too immature to him, and that he was planning on cutting u off. Sorry for not telling u earlier girl, did u 2 fight?

The thought twisted something deep in her chest. Hamzah? Your best friend since childhood? He would never, right? Nothing had real happened between you—at least that you remember of, but Anna had said it so casually, and now, it made sense why Hamzah had been distant the past few days.

It was finally the next morning. You really didn’t get any sleep—thinking about Anna’s text over and over again. You were so filled with rage.

Is he foreal? Why would he even call you last night if it he was planning to cut you off anyway..you quickly got inside the car, driving with your mom over to Hamzah’s place.

Once you picked him up, you didn’t even dare to look at him in the eye. No words were said by you, only your mom talking with Hamzah. Though, Hamzah was quick to notice “everything alright? Are you feeling sick or nervous because of the trip?” he asked, looking genuinely worried. How pathetic. you thought to yourself, was he fucking with you or playing with your feelings just before cutting you off—like a cat playing with a mouse before killing it? yeah sure, Fuck him. “No, i’m totally fine.” you outed sassily, with a mocking face for a second.

Hamzah decided not to talk back, thinking it was that time of the month for you, not wanting to argue first thing in the morning.

On the trip, you kept your distance from him, avoiding his gaze, and sitting with Anna and the others at meals. Hamzah tried talking to you, but every. single. time. you shut him down, quickly, turning your body and attention away. The quiet hurt in his eyes made your stomach twist, but you couldn’t shake the words Anna had said.

The days went by, and both of you didn’t speak a word. Not talking to Hamzah for more than a day, was actually very unfamiliar with you. All these years you’d be all over each other, even if you argued one of you would always make a move to apologise soon enough- but this wasn’t the case. You were being selfish, not backing out or falling for any traps after hearing what your best friend Anna had to tell you. After all, why would your best friend lie about something like that? It didn’t seem like she had something against him anyway.

So you want war? You’ll get it.

The rest of the year passed and Hamzah eventually stopped trying to talk to you. You didn’t care, or so you acted like that. It was nice having him cling onto you for a bit, but as soon as that stopped, he straight up became an asshole. He had a nasty, disgusted face everytime you’d cross paths and sometimes even tried tripping you or fell onto you by accident. Did he really hate you that much in the end? He broke you, really..

-

-

3 Years passed by, like days—calm like the river flow

The bass of the music thumped in your chest as you stumbled your way through the club, laughter and chatter blending into the rhythm. You’d had a bit to drink, enough to let loose, but not enough to completely lose yourself. You needed a break from the noise, so you made your way to the bathroom.

The moment you pushed the door open, the cool air hit your face, and you took a deep breath. You leaned against the sink, your reflection staring back at you—a slightly tipsy version of yourself, but still, you were fine. Just needed a minute.

You were trying to focus on getting yourself together when the door creaked open behind you. The sound of footsteps made you glance up, and then—him.

Hamzah

Your breath got caught in your throat. Of all places. Of all the nights. Why here? Was your luck really fucking testing you right now?

There he was, standing in the doorway of the bathroom, looking exactly the same as you remembered. His dark defined curls, his eyes still that deep shade of brown, that you once used to stare at and get lost in. Your pulse sped up, and your stomach twisted into knots, the alcohol in your system only amplifying everything.

He paused when he saw you, his expression unreadable, but you could feel the tension building in the small, dimly lit space between you. Neither of you spoke for a moment.

“You’re here..? What are you doing here?” You said your voice a little slurred, trying to play it cool but failing miserably. “Didn’t expect to see you in the ladies’ room.”

He laughed softly, the sound almost making you forget how you ended your whole friendship over a stupid girl. Almost. “Guess we’re both full of surprises,” he said, eyes flickering to the door as if he was about to leave.

But he didn’t move.

You took a small step back, feeling the weight of the situation sink in. Why was he just standing there? Why wasn’t he leaving?

“I’m, uh, i’ll see myself out then” you said, trying to walk past him, but he stepped forward, blocking your way.

“Actually, im glad i met you here.” he said, towering over you “Now that you have nowhere to go, don’t ya think you can give me a clear explanation.”

oh fuck me. That’s crazy..You thought to yourself.

Now that you were getting a closer look—He definitely got taller, his arms and face looked way more defined than before as well.. and his voice—that high pitched voice that you were used to, sounds a lot more manly now and definitely deeper too..Has he been smoking? Wait-no no NO. None of these mattered right now. You have a problem here and now, and unfortunately none of your friends to get you out of it this time.

“Well~ what are you talking about, im kinda dizzy to be honest.. think we can talk about this laterz maybe?” you giggled a lil bit, trying to act a bit more drunk, maybe you thought to yourself, maybe, he’d let you off the hook.

“I don’t see a reason to talk outside, pretty.”

The club was still loud outside, people shouting and laughing “and who knows, you just might try and run away again.”

Inside the bathroom, it felt like the world had gone silent. Just you and him, stuck in a moment neither of you had fully let go of.

You didn’t know how to respond. Your mind was foggy, you just stared into his dark coloured eyes.

Has he always been that hot or was it the alcohol smacking you right in the face right now? This is ridiculous. Why would you think like that about your childhood friend. Wait no it’s not me though, it’s definitely the alcohol, can’t be…Great, am i talking to myself now?

Out of nowhere—you got hit with the coldness of the tiles on the wall. Hamzah had pinned you down to the wall. You swallowed hard, your breath starting to get uneven as you try to quiet down your heart with it.

“are you communicating? Im talking to you this whole time, and you just, chose to ignore me again.” he said teasingly, pointing out the past.

Hamzah smirked, his gaze not leaving yours. There was a tense silence between you two, the kind that hung in the air, thick and unresolved. You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t.

He took a step closer, closing the remaining space in between us, his presence overwhelming. “I’ve been thinking about you, y/n, A lot.”

Your heart pounded almost out of your chest. The alcohol coursing through your veins was blurring the lines between what was real and what you wanted. You should pull away, tell him to leave. But your body was betraying you, your mind too clouded to make the rational choice.

if you were to say you didn’t think of him everyday ever since you graduated either, then, you’d definitely be lying…But that’s another thing.

“Actually, you know what. No. You don’t get to talk to me like this—as if you really miss me, after being such an asshole to me in highschool.” his hand, with sudden, fast-yet gentle emotions, now wrapping your neck. Not squishing tight, only enough to show how mad he was.

Slowly, he brought his mouth to your ear “Me? Being the asshole? Right, as if I ignored you for no reason, first.” he said, softly.

Hamzah’s gaze fierce as a knife, he eyed you up and down, like a a snake observing it’s prey. And before you knew it, his lips were on yours, urgent and hungry. The kiss was passionate and rough. His hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to sink into him, to forget all the hurt and confusion.

You kissed him back, letting the heat build, drowning in the way he made you feel—alive, wanted, and reckless all at once. His hands moved to your hips, pressing you against the cool tile of the bathroom wall, and you let him, letting the past, and the bitterness fall away with every passing second.

The door behind you creaked slightly, but you didn’t care. The club, the noise, the people outside—it all seemed so far away. There was only him. Only the way his lips and tongue moved with yours, the way his hands held you like you were the only thing that mattered.

“Are you sure about this?” he breathed against your lips, his voice thick with desire. He was holding back.

How did you end up like this? Were those feelings just, pend up anger? None of it mattered, you just wanted to feel the heat of the moment

You pulled him closer, your hands sliding into his curls, needing him, needing this, even if you didn’t quite understand why. “Yeah..” you whispered, the word falling out before you could stop it. You needed him to hear it. You needed him to know.

to be continued

────୨ৎ────

✎ a/n first time writing kinda nervous.. I think this may be kinda boring at first since i was yapping a lot. The original story was like 2 times this one but i had to rewrite it eventually 😭 there also may be some spelling errors or just some shit that don’t make sense but please bear with me since english is not my first language

[damnfeelings09]

Style - Shadow's version

A.N: this one closes the little story, I'm not really good writting explicit content but I tried my best. Also I'm not sure if you wanted to stay human or mobian so I kinda keept it vague so you could decide.

“Midnight, you come and pick me up, no headlights.”

You got out of the shower, the steam flooding your room, creating a warm and pleasant atmosphere. Carefully, you walked to your bed where your pajamas were already laid out, while the drops of water fell on your shoulders. You loved your days off. You used to spend the whole day at home, making the most of the time with... ah... there he was again, in your thoughts. You still hadn’t decided what you would do about his message. It had been three days, and all you could do was stare at the screen, wondering what would be the most appropriate response. Maybe a “hello” or “what’s up,” or “I love you” or your personal favorite “screw you, idiot, you broke my heart.”

“This is impossible,” you said. “What am I supposed to do now? It's not like I can just... ignore him?” You knew that was the most cowardly option, but you couldn’t face the situation. You didn’t want to face it. The same day you had received the message, you talked to Dylan and let him know that you weren’t really interested in him and that you only saw him as a friend. It had been hard because you really liked him, but you weren’t in love with him. How could you be when your heart only beat for one person? You finished getting dressed, wearing a long blouse as a nightgown, and leaving your hair loose while looking for the hairdryer. You were halfway into your closet when you heard a ring—it was a new notification. Quickly, you picked up your phone, and once again, his name appeared.

Shadow: I’m outside.

Damn it! Why? What did Shadow think he was doing outside your house?

"It’s been a while since I’ve even heard from you," you thought. Carefully, you approached the living room window and peeked through. You could see his car parked right in front of your door. Another notification made you step back from the window. You quickly read the message.

Shadow: Come out.

"I should just tell you to leave 'cause I know exactly where it leads, but I..."

Slowly, you opened the door, finding Shadow leaning against the passenger door. He had his arms crossed, his inhibitory rings glowing in the moonlight, and his eyes… those red eyes, like two rubies, staring at you intensely.

"You got that James Dean daydream look in your eye And I got that red lip classic thing that you like And when we go crashing down, we come back every time 'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style"

With every step you took towards him, your heart beat even faster. If it weren't for your training as a GUN agent, you probably would’ve suffered an arrhythmia and died right then. Shadow kept his gaze fixed on you, analyzing every move you made. With each step you took, he fought the urge to pull you into his arms. He knew it wasn’t a good idea, that you were angry with him, and although he had promised himself not to bother you again, here he was, once more, in front of your door. But this time, he had the courage to call you. When you were close enough, Shadow stood up and opened the passenger door, nodding for you to get in.

"So it goes He can't keep his wild eyes on the road, mm"

Shadow drove in silence, while you couldn’t stop intertwining and releasing your fingers. Saying you were nervous was an understatement; there wasn’t a word in your vocabulary that could describe the avalanche of emotions you were feeling. You tried to control your breathing, not wanting him to notice, even though it was a stupid thought—there was nothing about you that the ultimate lifeform didn’t notice. You glanced at the dashboard clock. It was past midnight, and you had no idea where Shadow was taking you. You directed your gaze to the hedgehog, but when his eyes met yours, you quickly turned your gaze to the door. If it were possible, you would’ve jumped out of the car right then. Shadow slightly increased the speed, making his car roar as it sped down the tree-lined road. His eyes darted between the road and your face, noticing that you were nervous, and something more—the reddish tint on your cheeks gave you away, and he couldn’t wait to kiss every part of you.

You inhaled and, gathering your courage, broke the silence. “I heard, oh, that you've been out and about with some other girl,” you said, looking down. That was what everyone had been talking about—the new girl who had quickly gained Commander Shadow the Hedgehog’s trust. At first, you didn’t want to believe it, but then you saw the pictures, where he was next to her, a smaller hedgehog, with bright yellow eyes and white fur. You wouldn’t admit it, but that night, you had cried in the bathtub.

Shadow looked at you as he slowed down the car. You had left the city miles behind, and now, you were ridding up the hill. Hesitant, he took the steering wheel with his left hand while placing the other one on your leg, gently caressing it. “What you heard is true, but I can’t stop thinking 'bout you and I.” he said.

“I’ve been there too a few times,” you said without thinking. You didn’t expect to give that response, but Shadow always managed to bring out your true personality. Right there, in his car, with his body so close and his caresses on your skin, you could barely think straight. You looked at him. Shadow had always seemed so damn handsome to you, but seeing him under the moonlight was definitely a religious experience. The sound of the engine accompanied every turn he made with the steering wheel, but it was his gaze that truly dominated the moment. His crimson eyes, deep and mysterious, fixed on the road, while his dark quills seemed to blend with the shadowy interior of the car. If it weren't for the reddish tips, you would’ve sworn they had grown out. His hand never left your leg; instead, his thumb made small circles on your soft skin, and you swore that with that little touch, you swore you could reach the heavens.

"You got that long hair, slicked back, white T-shirt And I got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt (a tight little skirt) And when we go crashing down, we come back every time 'Cause we never go out of style (we never go), we never go out of style"

The ride lasted 15 more minutes until Shadow finally stopped the car at the hill’s lookout. You knew this place; it was where you had your first date, where he first said “I love you,” and where... where you both had spent your first night together. With every memory, the heat increased, and your face felt like it was going to explode.

“I’m sorry,” Shadow murmured, halting the flow of memories that your mind was traveling through. His gaze was fixed on you, his expression had changed. That cold façade he showed the world crumbled before you. “For... everything.” Shadow had never been a fan of apologies. He always tried to find a way to be right, not because he was stubborn or made many mistakes—after all, we were talking about the ultimate lifeform—but he always took responsibility when it came to you. “I know I made you suffer. You have to understand that I... I... wanted to keep you safe, and I only managed to push you away. I didn’t know how. I still don’t... And I know you don’t want me close, I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I can’t... I don’t want to be without you.”

That was all it took, his confession to you was all you needed to hear. The air was charged with electricity, and every part of you was begging for his touch. You both stared at each other for a second, and without thinking any longer, you threw yourself at him. Your lips collided with intensity, as if you couldn’t wait any longer, as if time no longer existed. There, in the warmth of the car, only you two existed. Shadow took a second to react, the surprise on his face was undeniable, but it quickly turned into need as he took you by the waist, pulling you even closer, as if he was trying to fuse your body with his. Hands gripped, mouths opened, and the kiss turned into something wild, impetuous, where nothing else mattered.

"Take me home Just take me home"

You placed your hand on his chest, caressing his soft fur gaining a soft growl from the hedghog, you took a chance and pull yourself away from his hungry lips for a second. “… just take me home…” you said as you caught your breath. Shadow pressed his lips together one more time, then pulled away from you, making the engine roar. He drove quickly, the trees blurring into a smear. Throughout the drive, his hand remained intertwined with yours.

"Oh, you got that James Dean daydream look in your eye And I got that red lip classic thing that you like"

When you arrived to his home, your home, Shadow opened your door and took you in his arms bridal style, carrying you inside. Your clothes quickly abandoned your body, decorating the living room, the hallway, and the bedroom.

"And when we go crashing down (now we go), we come back every time"

He carefully laid you on the bed, admiring the view as he positioned himself above you, as if trying to engrave your image in his memory forever. He approached slowly, leaving a trail of kisses from your collarbone to your lips, saying how much he loved you after each one. A silent promise was born between you both that day—never again would you be apart... never.

"Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style"

[vibelladonna]

𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈… 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃 ! ! 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓋𝒾𝓋𝒾

To start off, sorry I haven’t posted any fanfics lately.

Well, other than “Rizz the Wolf” April Fool reaction—look man I was really hyped and I couldn't help myself, I'd like to mention that I’ve got two exams this week and one more after that, so things have been kinda hectic for me as my spring semester is ending soon.

I’ll try to post something this weekend or later.  

Now, about the update on Geo… y’all really blew up my inbox. I was sitting in a chemistry lecture, taking notes on my iPad, when like 30 people inboxed me, saying overall ‘CHECK TWITTER!’ I was so confused, just staring a my screen like, "wtf is going on???" 😭 I legit thought something bad happened, so I checked Twitter all dramatically like I was about to read a scandal.  

First off, I just love seeing updates from @fantasia-kitt. And since y’all were MAYBE waiting for my "official statement"—because apparently, I’m the top writer that actually enjoys writing about Geo (which, fair, I do take almost every request I get)—here it is:  

I admire it ♡. Like deadass, omg.

Seeing Geo as Aroace just makes so much sense, like I already knew funny enough. It fits him perfectly—both personality-wise and character-wise. If there was ever a character who would straight-up say, "I literally do not have the time nor interest in a relationship,"

It’s literally him.

That being said… yeah, I guess this means almost everything I’ve written about Geo so far isn’t exactly accurate. Especially when it comes to writings like [ 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓈 ] or [ 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝒷𝒶𝓇𝒾 ]—to tell ya'll the truth, I was kinda hated writing those. 

I still lowkey head cannon him into Japanese bondage, Shibari—in a non sexual manner, like he just wanted to learn because he just happens to be interested in it.

Yes, I did a lot of research for them, but to keep it real, I only wrote them for my dearest readers because, at the time, there was barely any NSFW content for Geo, and everyone kept asking for it.

However, at the back of my brain, I already knew it didn’t fit his character, which was my original plan to never write it in the first place. If I’m being honest, I do feel a tiny bit disappointed—not at Geo being Aroace now.

Like, I’m actually hyped about that.

Sidenote—Do you know how rare perfectly written Aroace, aro, or even just ace representation is? 

HARDLY ANYWHERE.

It’s a constant battle trying to explain to people that this is who I am, and half the time, they just don’t get it because no one really talks about it.

So seeing a character like Geo, who actually fits the identity so well, is a huge win. It’s more about the fact that I knew I understood his character so well, but I kept holding myself back and writing him wrong—just to please everyone.

That’s on me, and I’ll never do it again.

So, this short update hits close to home.

Like Fantasia mentioned, "Geo has a special place in my heart since he reflects my own sexuality as well being an Aroace and I thinks this fits him more personality and character-wise." End quote.

And truthfully, same.

As mentioned, I’m asexual—like, if you’ve been on my blog for even five seconds, you’ve probably seen the spade symbols everywhere or my about me pinned post. It’s my way of repping my sexuality—hell, I even wear it as jewelry daily.

Also, a thought: I might be aro too, but I haven’t done a deep dive into that yet. Relationships have never really been my thing, and my priorities have always been my academics and career, so… maybe? Who knows.

Like, I’ll probably sit with it over the summer when I finally have some free time to contemplate my existence properly.

For those who don’t know me personally… let’s see…

if I had to sum up my personality, just picture Dr. Cristina Yang from Grey’s Anatomy or Kyoko Kirigiri from Danganronpa (btw, Kyoko is the only character in that game I care about). That should give you a pretty solid idea of how I operate.

That being said, I’m definitely still writing about Geo.

Don’t get it twisted—I was never gonna stop. I’ll just be going off my own thoughts now, and hopefully, everyone’s cool with that.

But please, for the love of all that is holy, do not ask me to write that Sol and Geo threesome. I was deadass joking in [ 𝒿𝑒𝓁𝓁𝓎 ]. Same with Hyugo and Geo x Reader request in a relationship—logically, it just doesn’t click for me to write something like that.

I enjoy writing about Geo—he’s one of my comfort characters (which, mind you, I only have like four on that list). And honestly?

Still my ideal type. I relate to him a lot. Not saying I’d date myself, but when I write him, I often think, "How would I react?"—except I dial up the arrogance, smugness, and overall asshole energy.

And before you ask, "Why the hell would you even want to date someone like that?"—leave me alone. 😭 

Again, dating isn’t exactly high on my priority list.

I just think about it sometimes—mostly because my parents won’t get off my ass about it. They keep saying, “Don’t waste your life just focusing on work,” but like… I genuinely don’t have any desire for it. I just want to enjoy life, make a decent living, and maybe—if anything—consider marriage way down the line.

But if I HAD to pick, it’ll be Geo.

Like in a best friends kind of way. Personally he’ll be so understanding because he too feel this way. I’ll annoy him so much.

The reason why, to me, relationships are just really close friendships with extra steps. If you’re dating someone, shouldn’t they also be your best friend? Deadass my friends call me weird for thinking that way, however I like to see it that way. 

This is why the only piece I actually enjoyed writing was [ 𝓉𝓎𝓅𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒷𝑜𝓎𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹 ]—ironic isn’t it? I just thought of Geo and me as best friends and converted that into something for whoever was reading.

I always saw it as experiencing romantic and sexual attraction differently than most people. Relationships aren’t one-size-fits-all—they take on different forms depending on the people involved.

With Geo, I was just being transparent about who he is, what his needs and boundaries are, and how that shapes his dynamics with others.

Same goes for real life—your needs, your expectations, their needs, their expectations… It all comes down to communication. 

That’s everything.

And like Geo isn’t heartless now. If you play “Rizz the Wolf”, it just proves how much Geo actually cares about his friends. Like dude, look at how he treats Crowe and Deryl. Sure, he was pissed at Deryl for touching him and just straight-up being goofy, but he still let him do it.

And Crowe? Crowe did so much for Geo. It’s literally in the game’s glossary that Crowe helped him after he got kicked out of high-class society. No wonder Geo wipes Crowe’s face with a napkin. 

Not gonna lie, kinda wish that was me.😗

What I’m getting at is—this all just clicks.

So yeah, Geo not doing romantic relationships?

Officially canon. He doesn’t see the point, doesn’t have the time, and honestly? This just gives me even more material to work with—so stay tuned for the next post ! !

I’ll catch y’all later—thanks for listening to my rambling, my dearest readers. ♤

[meliciousmel13]

: ̗̀➛ lotus eater

did you figure it out?? : ̗̀➛ who's the mystery now?

based on this song by FINNEAS, since the new album came out and i love it!!

warnings: fluff, smut, eating out (r receiving).

wc: 2,534 - kinda long but let me cook

SYNOPSIS: you hate her. don't you? it's just a coincidence isn't it?? madison was being nice for some reason.

taglist: @guysimgay164, @madisonbeerssecretwife @bandanamatt

an: :)) for the people who voted for madison smut in my poll since i think you guys are a little deprived. if your looking forward to the billie one it's in the makes! this was in my drafts since before the poll.

you and madison were enemy’s. everyone knew. nobody wanted to get involved and nobody wanted to touch you. why? because the last boy you had the fortune to talk to (who was nice), went missing. or, was avoiding you for a reason you didn’t know.

you knew nothing about her. all you knew was that she was a kind and sweet girl. you saw her interviews. you didn’t want to. but the fact that her music was kind of good and she was kind of pretty. led you to watching one of her interviews. you didn’t want to admit it but she was kind of funny.

you were at an award show now and you found your seat just to be greeted with the woman you wanted to avoid. you were wondering if they sat you in the same table because they didn’t know? maybe they forgot?

you sat down, vexed. she glanced at you and continued talking with someone you didn’t know. you wanted to ask to change seats but you knew that the people who were actually in charge of the seating chart wanted you guys to either fight, or pretend to like each other.

you wanted to do none. you didn’t want to pretend. you didn’t even want to talk to the brunette. knowing that if you did, her snarky attitude would somehow come across as nice to some 47 year old asshole sitting behind a screen.

you cross your arms and lay back on the soft seat, looking around the venue until she spoke, “what are you doing here?” she asked, condescendingly, turning to you while her friend went off.

“this is my seat.” you answer. you didn’t want to talk to her. you thought if you paid her no mind then she wouldn’t talk to you. but no. she always had too much to say. couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

“oh.. are you sure? did you double check?” she asked, again. you double checked. triple checked, quadruple checked. of course you did. why the hell would you wanna sit next to her?

“yes, i checked.” you scoffed.

“you don’t have to be so negative. this is good right?” you wanted to punch her.

no. it’s not good. “i guess.” you muttered, going back on yourself and actually talking to her.

the award show went great. besides the soft murmurs of an angry night. madison was commentating everything, saying the obvious and talking to you the whole night. you wanted to go home. get rid of her obnoxiously sweet voice in your ear and maybe eat a tub of ice cream.

but you didn’t get to enjoy the luxury which was your own bed because you had to go to the after party. your manager had everything ready. the short dress and—you were so tired. not physically. but because of the fact that someone was talking your ears off.

madison decided to stay in the same car as you. you didn’t even get to stare outside the window with some much needed alone time. she took your headphones off and wanted you to really listen to whatever she was saying.

you tilt your head back on the soft cushion of the chair and took deep breaths. the more she spoke the more your headache grew.

you open the door to the outside frantically, almost begging to feel the cold air on your skin. you did. but the flashing lights that invited you weren’t welcoming. home home home.

she took your hand and you wanted to pull away. the sight of cameras stopped you. but also because her hands were soft. if they belonged to another you would’ve been thrilled.

you walk through the large doors of the establishment and you finally pulled away as the security guards prevented photographers from entering and everyone else.

“why the fuck did you do that?” you asked angrily.

“what did i do?” she asked. and your frustration was through the roof. the squinting was making your headache worse and the bright lights too.

you groaned, loudly, she was so frustrating that if you spoke another word you might actually explode. she giggled. she fucking giggled. you were mad and she was laughing.

“are you seriously laughing?” you questioned, and she shook her head.

“s’ nothing,” she rolled her eyes,“we should head in now we might be late.” she said.

“who the hell is we?—” she took your wrist and dragged you inside.

you’ve never regretted your life choices more. this was way worse then the award show. here they had flashing bright colors and loud charlie xcx songs blasting through the speakers. madison pulled you to the drinks bar and you’ve grown tired of her dragging you around. but you continue to let her.

“uh, two cherry colas—” she said and you looked at her with a bewildered expression. a nonalcoholic drink. a nonalcoholic drink.

“no.” you interrupted.

“but—”

“no.” you crossed your arms, “i’ll have a Sex on the Beach. she can have a cherry coke.” you said to bartender and he nodded, getting ready to make your drinks.

“for the contrary, cherry colas are really good,” she said, and you nodded, rubbing your temples., “headache?” she asked. you nodded. “why would you drink alcohol then.” she rolled her eyes again and called the bartender. telling him to cancel your drink and opting to getting you water.

“here.” she breathed out, helping you sip out the glass cup until it was empty.

“why’re you being so nice to me?”

her expression changed. mouth slightly agape and it made you even more curious. the once cruel woman was suddenly helping you with your ever growing headache that she started. her eyes dart across the room to look at anything but you. avoiding your question.

she mumbled something you couldn’t hear, so you bring your face closer to hear her better but she groaned, “you always fucking do that—” she grabbed your wrist till her knuckles were white and led you to a janitors closet near the exit of the party.

“do what?—” you were cut off by her kissing you.

oh

oh, that’s what she meant. she tilted her head to kiss you better and you didn’t know what to do. you were confused. not knowing where to put your hands so you place them on her shoulders. her lips were soft. and she smelt like angles and fairy dust.

you wanted to let out a word, you wanted to push her away you wanted and wanted but you never did anything. you let her kiss down your neck and up your jaw you let her. she griped your hips tightly and traced the hem of your dress.

“madison—” you pull her head away from your neck by softly tugging her hair, and she groaned. as if being separated from you was equivalent to having her lollipop taken from her hands. was she crying? because you swore you saw tears in her eyes when you pulled her away.

her lip gloss was smudged on your neck and her mascara was ruined, some of it probably on your neck too, she was undoubtedly messy. “what?” she asked.

“talk to me.”

“are you stupid?” she said, and you flinched, “do you still not know why i pulled you in here? i mean— I’ve never seen someone as stupid as you.” you stayed silent, she pulled her hands away from your hips and you almost missed them. she sighed and paced around the small room.

“i like you.” then everything made sense. like the flood of questions in your mind were answered with three words. the reason no one approached you was because everyone knew she liked you? is that why you were sat next to each other? the reason the boy stopped talking to you was because she told him off?

“do you know how obvious i made it for you? like— i might as well be screaming i love you at this point—” she wanted you. she really really wanted you.

you initiated the kiss this time. you didn’t have to say it back she knew. you wanted her too.

the kiss quickly grew heated, the loud sighs and whimpers—mostly from you, because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut, “madison.” you breathe out, knees going weak and without the support of her hands under your thighs you would’ve collapsed on the dirty floor.

“yeah?” her eyes darkened, the filthy noises—just saying her name that way was driving her insane.

“do something.” you said. the uncomfortable wetness in your underwear was growing the longer she looked at you that way, like she wanted to devour you whole.

she parted your legs and put her knee between them, removing her hands from your thighs and actually letting you sit on it. you quickly regained your composure and actually used your legs to stand.

“can i take this off?” she toyed with the hem of your dress. you didn’t know why she was asking.

“yes.” you answered, and she pulled the dress up above your hips—now crumpled on you waist. she looked at your underwear then your eyes, asking for conformation. you nod. and she pulled the black lacy underwear to the side.

you wore it for yourself, no one in peculiar but you don’t regret it because she griped the underwear so tightly you were scared it was going to rip. you tried helping her pull it down your legs but she refused. you looked too pretty. depending on her knee to stay up and mouth agape. so. fuckin’. pretty.

“ma—” you yelped when she removed her knee, quickly holding you up—she didn’t want her pretty girl to fall now. her pretty girl. you were hers.

she brushed her thumb on your clit and you bite your lip, one of her hands were on your hips holding you up and the other was dragging up and down on your heat, “you’re so wet.” she mumbled into your neck while sucking hickies onto it. your cheeks flush and your skin was sweaty because you were nervous but also because it was hot in here. you were wet. and she didn’t even do anything yet.

“tell me your mine.” she pulled away from your neck and rubbed harshly on your clit. you grip her shoulders tightly.

“m’ yours.” you whine when she legs go of her hand on your hips, you almost fall, but grab a hold of her leather jacket in time. desperately trying to wrap your legs around her waist but she doesn’t even help you, she just holds your chin and tilts it upwards.

“i can’t hear you.” her thumb on your clit slows down and you groan, the long acrylic nails were scratching on your jaw.

“i’m yours!” you half-scream, surprised no one barged in the room yet.

madison smiled, “that’s right baby.” she rasped out, and you had to hold back a moan at the name, “why’re you holding back?”

“because someone might come in.” you sigh and she bites her lower lip.

“you shouldn’t care about them, kay?” she sank to her knees, and you almost came, because she looked so good looking up at you, “can’ moan all you want baby.” oh god. she lifted your thigh on her shoulder and you arch your back.

she hummed while running her tongue up your pussy, her knees probably dying. she held your whole body up and you were curious how strong she actually was.

you moan, and she looked up at you, so focused on your taste she forgot to focus on you. “look at me.” she kissed and nipped at your thighs. you do, for a while but you gasp and cover your face once she brings your clit to her lips, “look at me, please.” she half begged.

you let out a small ‘mhph’ and pull your hand from your face, nothing was covering the pornographic look on your face now. you were panting, brows furrowed and a small drop of sweat rolling down your face. you tilted your head to see her better.

“fuck.” she moaned. you run your hands through her hair, gripping once she sucked harshly on your clit—ruining the hair that probably took over 4 people to do, she let you. and you’ve never had that much power before. you could ruin her if you wanted. and she would let you. because she loved you.

she desperately wanted to plunge her fingers deep inside you but her annoyingly long nails restricted her from doing so. they were cute and all, but her knees were killing her. she ignored the pain though, she’d do anything for you.

madison couldn’t breathe. all she could feel, smell and taste was you. she didn’t care though, if she could die between your thighs then she’d die happy. her cheeks were squeezed between them and you’ve never seen something so beautiful.

she tapped your thigh lightly and you part your legs, not wanting to to cut off her breathing. you whimper and buck your hips to her mouth when she entered her tongue in you. she held your hips and you scratched at her scalp.

“m’ gonna cum.” you whimper, your entire upper body was a mess. hickies on the side of your neck and collar bones, some ever scattered above your breasts. even your lip stick was stained and out of place.

“yeah? gonna cum f’ me?” she asked, digging crescent moons into your thighs from how she was gripping it. she raspy voice sent vibrations up your pussy, and you pushed her face even closer, she didn’t stop you though, she enjoyed it.

madison pushed down your lower stomach and dug her tongue even deeper, “oh— fuck, madison.” you moan, feeling madison hum, and that pushed you over the edge. squirting all over her face. she licked up every drop. feeling over simulated, you push her away from her head, “can’t.” you breathe out.

“good?” she said, you nodded and madison stood up stumbling, “are your knees okay?” you asked, concerned.

“yeah i’m fine,” she fixed her hair, smoothing it back and fixing her clothes, “come here.” she took your hips and pulled you closer, helping put your panties back in place and your dress down your thighs.

“thank you.” you mumble, while she wiped the smudged lipstick across your mouth and the lip gloss from your neck, “madison.” you laugh, seeing her lower face completely covered in arousal.

“what?” she asked innocently, like she didn’t just give you the best orgasm of your life.

“your face.”

“what about it?” she licked her lips. messy eater.

after you both cleaned up, you came out of the janitors closet, getting weird looks from most people but you drag her outside and tell your driver to take you home. this time, with her.

“so,” she dug her hands into her jacket pockets, “what are we now?” she asked, hopeful.

you hum, pretending to think about it, madison groans, and you laugh, “i’m kidding! your my girlfriend right?” you ask, hopeful.

“yeah, your my girlfriend.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

fooling ourselves

for @steddiemicrofic prompt 'fool' (don't you worry folks, i plan on being a fool and doing the silly prompt too)

454 words | rated t | no cw | tags: mutual pining, idiots to lovers, first kiss

🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

Steve was fooling everyone.

At least, he hoped he was.

He might be failing.

Steve practically begged for time alone with Eddie. It was embarrassing.

It's just that in the group, Eddie was loud, put on the same show he always did at school, in the hospital when he was recovering and trying to keep smiles on everyone's faces. He fooled everyone except Steve.

When they were alone, Eddie was more reserved, thoughtful, touched him more.

Steve was touch starved, okay? Every time Eddie placed his hand on his knee or ran a hand through his hair, it was like an electric shock jolted his body to attention.

He wasn't looking further into it.

Except for when he did, which was nearly every night over the last two weeks, right after Eddie had told him that he started seeing someone in Indy.

In the moment, he congratulated him, asked a few polite questions that any friend would, and found a reason to go home.

He'd avoided being alone with Eddie ever since.

Actually, he'd avoided Eddie entirely until today.

The kids were having a movie night and attendance was mandatory.

The movie was scary, something he knew he couldn't watch, but showed up for anyway. Robin made an excuse for him to sit outside, said he'd been dealing with a migraine all day and the flashing on the screen wasn't helping.

He owed her.

The Henderson home had a small back porch, but it was the perfect place for him to sit and get some fresh air, clear his mind from the thought of Eddie sitting inside. He'd been with Frankie all day.

That got shut down, but probably wouldn't be for much longer, not if they got serious.

"You okay out here? Need a drink?" Eddie's voice shocked him from his thoughts.

"Huh? Oh. I'm fine."

"Robin wanted me to come check on you. Said you wanted to talk to me?" Eddie sat down next to him on the back step.

"She did?" He apparently had not fooled Robin.

Eddie nodded.

"Oh. I'm good."

"Really? So you wouldn't care if I said I'm not seeing Frankie anymore?"

Steve turned to see a shit-eating grin on Eddie's face.

"You aren't?"

"Nah. I think I liked the idea of having a boyfriend more than I liked him."

"Oh."

"I think I was really just trying to move on from someone else."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, kinda failed at fooling myself, though."

Eddie's hand settled on Steve's thigh.

"How's that?" Steve asked.

"This guy I like, he's kinda new to this. I finally realized I'd have to be the one to make a move."

"Yeah?"

Eddie's answer was a soft kiss to his lips and a whispered, "yeah."

[matchpointfaist]

tis the damn season ; art donaldson

cw; drinking, smut!!, art and reader are really kinda pathetic <3

if i wanted to know who you were hanging with

while i was gone i would have asked you

it's the kind of cold, fogs up windshield glass

but i felt it when i passed you 

there’s an ache in you put there by the ache in me 

but if it’s all the same to you, it’s the same to me

five years ago

“hey, stranger,” you can practically hear art’s smile through the phone, “how was your day?” you roll onto your back, phone clutched in your hand like a vice, “it was alright. just cramming for finals,” you sigh softly, “hows stanford?” “god, it’s incredible,” he laughs, “i wish you were here. you’d love it, baby. it’s like a movie,” you hum in response, ignoring the ache in your chest that had made its home there the day he flew out, “how’s training going? do you have any matches soon?” “oh, it’s great!” there’s that smile again, “i’ve got a match tomorrow, actually, so i should probably go soon. it’s at 7 am,” 

“that’s good,” you smile to yourself, “do you feel good about it?” “yeah, i think so. coach says i’m gearing up to do really well this season,” he says proudly, and your chest aches again at the thought of missing it. “i’m sure you will,” you try to keep your voice even, “well i’ll let you get some sleep, i love you,” “love you more,” he murmurs, “goodnight, baby,” 

art texts you the next morning to inform you he ‘killed’ his match, attaching a poorly taken photo of him grinning ear to ear, gold metal ribbon around his neck. it’s little crumbs like this that keep you sane, keep you feeling close to him, ever since he left. ‘knew you’d win! you’re so cute. call later?’ you reply, your cheeks pink as if you’re texting a crush rather than your boyfriend of two years. ‘course i will’ he replies, and you’re already counting down the minutes until the nighttime routine you’d grown accustomed to. 

at nine oclock, you lay across your dorm bed, eyes practically glued to your phone screen as you wait on art’s nightly call. by nine thirty, you’re mildly annoyed, and by ten, you’re worried. you pick up the phone, pressing call on his contact, biting the inside of your cheek as you listen to the phone ring. he picks up after a moment, the music in the background nearly drowning out his voice, “hello?” 

“hey,” you try your hardest not to let your irritation bleed into your tone, “did you forget to call?” “fuck, baby. i’m so sorry,” you hear shuffling, and the music gets slightly quieter, “patrick invited me to this party since we won this morning, it totally slipped my mind,” “it’s fine,” you tell him slightly too quickly, “just have fun, kay? i’ll talk to you tomorrow,” “wait- are you sure?” he sounds confused, and you wonder if its the alcohol or the change in your tone that’s thrown him off. 

“yeah, of course,” you hope your voice sounds as light as you intend it to, “we can talk tomorrow night, it’s okay. have fun,” “okay, i guess,” he sounds so hesitant you start to think he might just leave the party, “well goodnight then. i love you,” “night. love you too,” you hang up before you can talk yourself into begging him to stay on the phone. the next night, he calls at six oclock sharp, and you can tell the entire phone call that he’s eager not to upset you. 

he’d always been that way. he’d do something, just one tiny mistake, and spend days apologizing or being extra sweet to fix it. you’d lost count over the years of just how many grand gestures he’d made, of how many times he’d professed his love for you for no reason other than to get back in your good graces; not that he’d ever left. 

you and art were cheesily in love, so high school in the way that you couldn’t keep your hands off of eachother, couldn’t go a day without speaking. you were practically sewn at the hip from sophomore to senior year, even applying to colleges together. when he got his offer from the stanford athletics department, you didn’t think much of it. he seemed flattered, of course, but you never thought he’d actually go. 

he loved boston, he loved his family, he loved you, so it made no sense when he came over one afternoon, admission letter in hand, and a wide smile on his lips. “i accepted their offer!” he’d told you, ever so proud, “they gave me basically a full ride, as long as i stay on the team and keep my grades up. can you believe that?” 

you could believe it, of course. everyone knew how wildly talented art was, from such a young age. he’d started playing tennis at his parents country club when he was just a kid, and eventually worked his way up to attending a tennis academy not far from your high school. he had promise, drive, ambition, and a naivety just subtle enough to make him an excellent candidate to be pushed too far by coaches. 

you’d known, then, that things would change between you. everyone told you nothing would happen, you two were meant to be, but you could feel it. he’d be across the country, practicing incessantly, playing matches, attending parties thrown by teammates you’d never meet. and you’d be home, working for a degree that might help you make a name for yourself. 

over the course of a few months after that party, the calls grew less and less frequent. by summer, you were lucky to hear from art more than once a week. you knew he was busy, of course, and tried to ignore the way bitterness coated your tongue with every word you said to him on your brief calls. you tried to ignore the way he talked about all the friends he’d made, friends that you didn’t know at all, and tried to ignore the way he barely sent you photos anymore.

the one thing getting you through was the promise of summer break with art. two short months together, to pretend everything was back to normal, that you weren’t living completely separate lives. you woke up at six am sharp the day of his flight home, eagerness keeping you from sleep, and picked up your phone to call and see when he’d be landing. he answered after four rings, his voice raspy from sleep, “hello?” 

“good morning!” you replied cheerily, “when’s your flight?” “oh, hey baby,” you heard some shuffling before he returned to the phone, “uhm, i actually was just gonna call you about that,” “is everything okay?” your cheery tone slipped, dread festering in your stomach before you could even place why. “yeah, of course. i just meant to tell you, coach wants me to do some training over the summer. he thought it would be best if i stayed here, just for this first year, for some extra drills and stuff,” 

you sat silently, tears pricking your eyes, as you listened to his excuse. “so what, then? you’ll be home for a month shorter, or?” “i won’t be able to make it home at all this year, honey. i’m so sorry, but you can come stay with me, yeah? i’ll buy your ticket, it’ll be just like we planned,” your heart broke even further at how optimistic he sounded, as if he hadn’t just shattered your expectations of the summer, of your reunion. “i have work, art,” you said quietly, “you know that. i have to make up for being off through the school year,” 

“you don’t need that job, baby. come on, come see me,” “no, art!” you argued, your brows pinched in frustration, “i do need this job, actually. some of us don’t have trust funds, believe it or not. jesus,” your words came out sharper than you intended, all the hurt and anger from the last several months finally revealing itself. “i’m sorry,” he said after a moment, “this is really important to me. this is my shot, yknow? i can’t mess this up,”

“yeah,” your voice was bitter, but you truly did understand, “i get it. stay there, it’s for the best,” “i’ll come home next summer, okay? it won’t be like this every year,” he sounded like he was pleading with you, and it took all your control not to snap at the irony of it. “art, i think it’s best we don’t keep trying to make this work. you need to focus on your tennis and school and i need to focus on mine, and let’s just call it even, okay? we had a really good run,” 

“a good run?” he repeated incredulously, “are you trying to break up with me?” “i am, yeah,” you hoped you sounded confident in your answer, “i just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to draw this out any longer than we need to,” “what the fuck? where is this coming from? is this about the summer?” he sounded so genuinely confused, so lost, and it only angered you further. “it’s just not working, art. everyone warned us long distance wasn’t a good idea,” 

“baby, please,” he was practically begging, a slight whine in his voice that you knew all too well. “no, i’m sorry, okay? but it’s done,” “you can’t just-” “bye, art,” you hung up before you could talk yourself out of it, letting yourself cry as hard as you’d wanted to for months now. you curled up in bed, sobs wracking your body, and mourned the relationship with a boy you’d once thought you’d marry. 

you thought he’d text or call, tried to prepare yourself to reject him again, but the contact never came. he listened, for once. art donaldson had completely slipped out of your life, without a trace.

three years later, you graduated top of your class, landed your dream job in journalism, and moved to an apartment in the city. you tried your best not to keep up with art’s achievements, but it was difficult when he won nearly ever tournament he stepped foot into. he made all the sports headlines, and you turned your head at each of them, hoping to convince yourself you never even knew him. 

i parked my car right between the methodist 

and the school that used to be ours

the holidays linger like a bad perfume 

you can run, but only so far

i escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave

but if that’s okay with you, it’s okay with me

current

you returned home for the holidays, driving down from the inner city to your parents home on the outskirts of boston. about three miles out, you’re lost in thought, music playing through your speakers and snow dusting your windshield. you’re jolted when you hit a deep pothole, cursing under your breath when your tire pressure light kicks on. 

you pull over into the closest parking lot, grabbing your coat and stepping out of the car to survey the damage. “fuck me,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration when you see the tire’s gone flat. you’re in the middle of trying to pry your spare out of the trunk when headlights illuminate the area around you, and you hear a car crunching over the snow. 

“you alright, miss?” a man calls, his voice sharp in your ears against the quiet of the evening. “just got a flat, i’m taking care of it,” you reply, not bothering to look back over your shoulder as you yank your spare free finally. “it isn’t safe to drive on a spare in this weather,” he tells you, and the slight crack of his tone raises the hair on your arms, the familiarity seeping through you deeper than the cold breeze. 

you turn, finally facing the stranger, your breath in your throat. there he stands, his blonde hair peeking out underneath the hood of his puffer coat, his cheeks tinged pink from the wind. “art?” you exhale, your heart suddenly racing in your chest, “what are you doing here?”

“oh,” he looks as startled as you feel, his blue eyes widening ever so slightly, “i was just passing by on my way to my parent’s, i saw a car and thought you’d need help,” “i’ve got it,” you say too quickly, “i’ll call my dad to pick me up, don’t worry about it. thanks, though,” 

“i can take you,” he offers, gesturing to his car parked just feet away, still running, “it’s on the way, anyway. i don’t mind,” “i think i’ll just call my dad,” you argue, “you can go, okay? i got this-” “please just let me take you home,” his tone sounds like you’d be doing him a favor, not the other way around, “come on, i’ll help you get your stuff, i’ll fix your tire tomorrow,”

you never could say no to his puppy dog eyes, even after all these years. so there you sit, shivering in art’s too nice car, trying not to look at him as he drives you home like he had so many times before. “it’s good to see you,” he says finally, breaking the silence, and you hum in response, unable to muster up any real conversation. 

“i moved back,” he says after a few more minutes as he turns the corner to a main road, “i don’t live here, but it’s not far. i live in the city near the university,” “congratulations,” you mumble, trying to keep your tone dismissive, anything to lessen the nostalgia you’re surely both feeling. 

“hey,” he sounds as if he’s pleading, and you allow yourself one glance to his side of the car, taking in the way he’s biting the inside of his cheek, the sadness in his eyes. “yes?” “i just wanted to say it’s good to see you,” he says softly, “i mean, what’re the odds, yknow? we’re both back home and i just happened to see you. it’s like fate,” 

“yeah,” you agree quietly, “fate, sure,”

so we could call it even

you could call me babe for the weekend

'tis the damn season, write this down

i'm stayin' at my parents' house

and the road not taken looks real good now

and it always leads to you in my hometown

he pulls into your parent’s drive, keeping the car running but leaning back in his seat to look over at you. “you look good,” he says after a moment, “not that you looked bad before, obviously, it’s just, you’re beautiful-” “shut up, art,” you cut off his rambling, “it was sweet of you to drive me, but thats all this was, okay? this isn’t fate. it’s just a coincidence,” 

“even if it is just a coincidence, i’m still happy to see you,” he says quietly, “is that not okay? i missed you,” “shut up,” you repeat, “you didn’t miss me, that’s- this whole thing is ridiculous, okay? enjoy your holiday, art,” “wait! can’t we just talk? i mean, even if its not tonight, we could catch up,” he pleads, eyes wide and borderline frantic. you shake your head, opening your door and pausing to glance back at him, “merry christmas, art. please don’t call,” you go inside trying your best to pretend nothing happened, dodging questions about the car in the driveway and greeting your family. the look on art’s face as you closed the car door keeps you from any real christmas spirit. 

you wake the next morning to a text from an unsaved number, your brows furrowed as you open the notification. ‘i know you said you don’t wanna hear from me, but i just wanted to say i’m sorry and it was really nice to see you. wanted to give you a fair warning, your parents invited my family to their christmas party tonight.’

you groan, tossing your phone on the bed and getting in the shower, ignoring the butterflies nerves, in your stomach at the idea of seeing art that night. by six that evening, you’re slightly tipsy off of spiked eggnog, trying your best to ignore him from across the room. he’s there, blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes and a stupid christmas sweater that reminds you far too much of the first holiday you spent together. 

you hate the way he mingles with your family so easily, like nothing ever happened. the way he laughs at your dads jokes, the way he’s sipping wine with class he must’ve learned at stanford. the way he keeps looking your way, smiling tenderly, the way he eventually approaches you with all the hesitation of a high school crush. 

“you look beautiful,” is the first thing he says to you, sounding almost pained by it. “thank you,” you hope you sound cordial, hope he doesn’t pick up on the way your hands shake around your glass, the way your cheeks are already pink. you tell yourself it’s the alcohol and not the scent of the cologne he’d been wearing all those years ago, the last time you’d seen him. 

he looks around, gesturing to the decorations, “good party,” “we don’t have to do this small talk shit,” you say after a moment, “it’s in the past, alright? let’s just get through the party and we’ll all go back to normal,” “don’t you see i don’t just want to get through the party? i’m trying to talk to you here, okay? i missed you, i just wanna catch up,” the pleading is back in his tone, accompanied by his trademark puppy dog eyes, and you find yourself following him onto your parent’s balcony with no hint of the hesitation you’d been full of earlier in the night. 

“i saw you on tv,” he tells you after a few minutes of small talk, sipping his drink and glancing at you, the wind rustling his too perfect hair. “yeah?” you smile ever so slightly, “what for?” “it was a news station, i saw it at the airport. you were reporting on the protests in new york,” he smiles back, and your chest aches at the sight. “i’m not usually on tv, i just write the stories, but it was cool. glad to know it’s getting good airport coverage,” you joke, “i’ve seen you on tv a few times myself. wimbledon and all,” 

“yeah?” his smile widens, “and what’d you think?” you pause, and you’re not sure if its the eggnog, the nostalgia, or his vulnerable expression, but you find yourself being honest. “i thought you were incredible,” you say softly, “the way you play is just amazing, art. always has been,” “thank you,” you choose to ignore the crack in his voice, “you have no idea how much that means, to hear you say that. that you still even think that,” 

“congratulations,” you smile around the rim of your glass, “you’ve won every competition i’ve even heard of. that’s a big deal,” “none of that matters,” he waves a dismissive hand, “i don’t wanna talk about tennis. i wanna hear about you,” “my life is pretty boring,” you shrug, “i write columns and go home and think about work. that’s really all,” “you’re not- are you seeing someone? i figured you’d be married or something,” 

“no,” you laugh like its ridiculous, because truthfully, it is. you’d loved him so much that it made the idea of trying to love someone else seem pointless. in the back of your mind, you’d always thought you needed to let it go, to move on, but you never found the time or the willpower. forgetting him and learning someone else was a move you were never prepared to make. “me neither,” his voice snaps you from your thoughts, “not since-”

“i’m sorry i broke up with you,” you blurt out, “it was shitty of me to do it over the phone like that, and i’m sorry,” “oh,” he blinks, looking slightly caught off guard, “no, i mean, it was my fault. i get it, looking back. i’m sorry i didn’t fight harder,” “you were a really good boyfriend,” you say quietly, blinking away hot tears, “like, the perfect boyfriend. it was just too much, being away from you, and i felt like it was just a matter of time before it ended anyway,”

“i never planned on leaving you,” he says softly, “i hope you know that. i loved you more than anything in the world, and i know we were just kids, but i really, really fucking loved you. more than tennis, more than stanford, more than any of that shit. i didn’t care about my future if you weren’t in it, but then you removed yourself from it and i figured i could at least just keep going,” 

“i know,” you nod, because you genuinely do know. you know he loved you, how much he cared about your relationship. a moment passes, and you can feel his eyes on you, your heart picking up and a fresh flush prickling your skin. “you are so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and before you can think better of your decision, you’ve set your drink down and turned to him, all your logic gone out the window. 

“this is a bad idea,” you tell him, but you’ve already taken a step closer, “and i’m only in town for a bit,” another step, “but i missed you so fucking much, art,” “come show me how much you missed me,” he smiles, his eyes almost as dark as the sky around you, “let’s make up for lost time, yeah?”

you kiss him in an instant, and everything else seems to fall away as you feel his lips on yours for the first time in years. he tastes like sparkling wine and chapstick and everything you love about the holidays, about home. he kisses you with the same desperation he’d always had back then, his hands digging into your hips and pulling you flush against him. 

the reality of the evening starts to sink back in as hands progress lower, and you pull away, panting softly against his lips, “cant fuck you in my parents house,” “aw, come on, it’ll be just like old times,” he murmurs teasingly, trailing his lips down your neck. “art,” you whine, “we can’t,” “they’re all busy with the party,” he murmurs as he nips below your ear gently, “do you want me to stop?” “no,” you answer easily, “let’s just- can we go to my room? someone’s gonna see us out here,”

you end up in your old bedroom, sprawled out on the comforter kissing art with a feverish desperation. “missed you so fucking much,” he groans as you unbutton his pants, slipping your hand into his boxers, “god, thought about you all the time,” “yeah?” you smile against his lips, “thought about me all the way in california?” “fuck- yeah, i did,” he bucks his hips into your hand, his cheeks pink, “everyday, every night,”

you hum, satisfied, trailing your kisses down his chest and sliding down the bed, “where you going?” he asks, his brows furrowed. “you don’t want my mouth?” you ask, gazing up at him as you push his boxers down, “no,” he smiles hazily, “no, baby. missed you too much for that, just c’mere. let me fuck you,”

you nearly cry at that, the warmth flooding your chest at his words despite the overall nature of what the two of you are doing. you kiss him again, leaned over him, and he pulls you up into his lap, scooting up to prop himself up against the headboard. 

“come here,” he mumbles between kisses, positioning your legs to straddle him, “do you wanna do this?” “‘course i wanna do this,” you nod, and he pushes the skirt over your dress up around your hips, running his thumb over the skin, “you’re so beautiful,”

“stop lookin at me like that,” you mumble, feeling entirely too entranced by the expression on his face, “kiss me,” he’s nothing if not obedient, his lips on yours immediately, kissing you with fervor. you reach between the two of you, sitting up briefly to toss your underwear somewhere, wrapping your hand around him once more to line him up. “god,” he groans softly, tipping his head back as you slide down on his cock, your eyes closed in bliss, “fuck, you’re so wet, god,”

you bury your face in his neck, trying your best to be quiet as you adjust to his size, rocking your hips slowly, “art,” you moan breathlessly, and before you know it he’s cradling your head, pulling you in closer and fucking up into you. you bite down on his shoulder gently, hoping to suppress the noises leaving you, “god, not gonna last,” he all but whimpers, “you feel so fucking good,”

you just moan in response as he hits all the right spots, your thighs shaking slightly as he fucks you, “fuck, baby- oh my fucking god,” he groans, pulling you off of him gently, “didn’t wanna finish inside you,” he pants, eyes closed as he steadies his breathing, “let me,” you say softly, taking him in your mouth, moaning around him at the taste of yourself on his skin. 

“oh, fuck me,” he moans, hands tightening in your hair and bucking his hips slightly. he’s filling your mouth soon after, your name falling from his lips like a curse as he cums down your throat, panting and whining hoarsely. you wipe your mouth, sitting up to kiss him again, surprised when he pulls you up closer. “sit on my face,” he mumbles against your lips, “let me make you cum, please,” 

“i’m okay,” you start to argue, but he’s shaking his head, looking at you with the sweetest expression, “just let me make you feel good,” you let him lead you, as he lays back on the bed and pulls you up onto him, your thighs on either side of his head. 

he laps at you desperately, and you have to clutch the headboard to keep from collapsing against him as you rock your hips, borderline grinding against his mouth. “art,” you moan, one hand on the headboard and one in his hair, “fuck, you’re so good,”

this only encourages him, and he slides a hand under you, pushing gently on your hips to make you rock against his face once more. you whimper at that, digging your teeth into your bottom lip as you feel yourself getting closer. “art,” you gasp, “gonna-“ 

your vision is spotty as you come undone, his needy mouth never slowing as he works you through it, sucking at your clit until your legs nearly give out. “too much,” you whine, pulling at his hair to deter him. he hums against you, licking one last, slow stripe against you before helping you down, looking up at you with dilated pupils and a spit-slick mouth. 

you wipe his face gently with your duvet, smiling slightly down at him, “that was-“ “you were so good,” he praises, “can’t believe how much i missed that,” he pulls the blanket over your legs, and your chest aches at the tenderness of the action. “you shouldn’t stay,” you say softly, hoping it doesn’t come across as hurtful, “i don’t want my parents to see, yknow,” 

“yeah,” he nods, but he looks slightly hurt, like he’s taken aback, “yeah, good point. i’ll call you?” “yes, please,” you nod, watching as he pulls his clothes back on, “i’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?” “yeah,” he nods, fastening his belt, “uh, goodnight, then,” “night, art,” you smile sleepily, and he lets himself out without returning a smile of his own.

time flies, messy as the mud on your truck tires

now i’m missing your smile, hear me out

we could just ride around 

and the road not taken looks really good now

and it always leads to you in my hometown

the next day, you send him a quick text, slightly worried he’d thought you’d just dismissed him. ‘wanna get coffee today? i leave tomorrow’ 

‘sure’ he replies, and you’re sure then that he’s hurt, but you hope to rectify it, ‘great! starbucks on third at eleven?’ ‘okay. see you there’ he sends back, and you pull on a sweater and leggings, going to spend some time with your parents before heading out to the coffee shop. 

he’s sitting in a window seat when you arrive, much more casual than he had been the night before. he’s in a stanford hoodie and joggers, and you think of him away at college, how at home he’d probably been there. you shake the thought away, walking over to his table, “hey,” you smile, sliding into the booth across him. “hey,” he smiles slightly, “so you leave tomorrow?”

“oh, yeah,” you nod, “gotta get back to work. how long are you in town for?” “told you i moved back,” he says, looking slightly irritated, and you feel a pang of guilt, “yeah, sorry, it completely slipped my mind. so you’re just-“ “what is this, exactly?” he cuts you off, brows furrowed, “i mean, im glad last night happened, but is that just it? you’re gonna shoo me away and go home like nothing happened?” 

“what?” you falter, caught off guard, “art, no, i just have to go back home, it’s not like i’m discarding you,” “you sure are acting like it,” he grumbles, “what, then? are we gonna try and make this work?” “make this work?” you repeat, “what, exactly? i figured it was just because we’re both back home, i don’t-“ “what? so what, then, just a one time thing? that’s kinda fucked up to not tell someone,” he snaps, and you hate yourself in the moment, all the memories of the way you’d been so short when you’d broken up with him resurfacing. 

“maybe it’s better if it’s just for the weekend,” you say quietly, “i mean, we’re both busy, and this was just by chance,” “bullshit,” he shakes his head, “if you don’t wanna be with me, that’s fine. alright? genuinely, no hard feelings. but don’t give me that ‘we’re both busy shit. what’s the real reason you won’t try again?” 

“we both are busy,” you say defensively, “i just don’t- i’d hate for either of us to get hurt again, that’s all,” “i get it, i do, but we’ll never know if we don’t try,” he says softly, “i never wanted to hurt you before, okay? i’ve pictured so many routes for my life and you were always in them,” “we’re different people now, art,” you say carefully, trying to keep your tone even, “you don’t know if we’re still even compatible, and we never know what could happen,” “will you stop doing that? you don’t have to be so calculated about everything. it’s not gonna kill us to try, right? we’ve changed, sure, and we’re at different places in life, but we’re the same people. we’re still the people we were when we were in love,” 

“that was a long time ago,” you say quietly, tears pricking your eyes, “i just don’t wanna make a mistake and get us both hurt,” “i’m fine with being hurt by you. don’t you see that? i have loved you since we were sixteen years old. we can get to know each other again, we can take it slow, i’m not asking you to marry me here. just give it a chance, please?” the sincerity in his tone breaks you, and you’re nodding before you can talk yourself out of it. “yeah,” you sniffle, “yeah, i’d like that so much. i’m sorry, i’m just scared, and i didn’t think we’d ever get another chance,” you ramble. “i know you’re scared,” he says softly, taking your hand in his over the table, “we’re gonna take it slow, alright? we’ll be alright,” “yeah,” you nod, tracing his knuckles with your thumb, “we’ll be alright,” 

[sillygoose067]

Lattes of Love

Barista!Dick Grayson x Reader

TW: Stalking

The only reason you stepped into Haley’s Coffeehouse was because your legs were shaking too hard to keep walking. It was early, the sky still grey and yawning, but you’d felt the weight of eyes on your back since you’d left your apartment. You hadn’t looked. Couldn’t. But you knew.

The café was a safe pocket of warmth—dim lighting, indie music, soft wood tones, and sleepy customers sipping from mismatched mugs. It smelled like cinnamon and coffee and calm.

“Morning,” he said. “What can I make for you?”

His name tag read Dick, and he greeted you with a grin that almost made you forget why your heart was pounding.

You startled slightly at his energy, eyes wide. “Um. Just… a small latte. Please.”

“Got it.” He gave a small nod and turned toward the espresso machine.

Dark hair, slightly tousled like he’d run his hands through it a dozen times. Rolled-up sleeves, forearms dusted with flour. Smile like sunshine filtered through rain—soft, warm, never too much.

You stood awkwardly at the counter, twisting the strap of your bag around your fingers. He didn’t seem to notice, already chatting with the next customer, who was trying to flirt and clearly striking out. You watched as he smiled, made a dad joke about croissants, and completely missed the way the girl leaned across the counter a little too far.

You exhaled softly, half-amused. He was charming, sure. But definitely unaware.

When your latte came, he set it down carefully. “One small latte. You want cinnamon on top? It’s kinda the house signature.”

“Sure,” you whispered, then hesitated. “Thanks. For being nice.”

He blinked, then gave a lopsided grin. “Of course. That’s, like, the bare minimum. But you’re welcome.”

You found a seat in the back corner and tried to look casual. But your eyes kept flicking to the car across the street.

Same black sedan. Same spot. Third time in a row.

You stayed longer than you meant to. Hours passed. The sun shifted. Your coffee went cold. Every time you moved to leave, your stomach twisted. So you stayed.

You’d brought your laptop, pretended to scroll, but barely registered anything on the screen. Your attention kept drifting back to the car.

By late afternoon, the café emptied out. Dick started cleaning up, glancing up in mild surprise when he noticed you still sitting there.

“Hey,” he said gently. “We’re closing up soon.”

You stood slowly, voice small. “I know, I’m sorry—um, could I… could I leave with you?”

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Like…?”

“I mean—just pretend we’re together. Not together together, just… like, walk out with me. Please.” You glanced toward the car. “That man, he’s been following me. I think it’s the third or fourth day.”

“Yeah,” he said, instantly. “You can stay. It’s okay.”

“I can help you close,” you said quickly, almost tripping over your own words. “If—if you’ll let me. I just want to do something-- to thank you for your kindness. Anything.”

He opened his mouth, looked like he was about to say no… but your hands were already twitching at your sides.

“Alright,” he said. “Only because you asked so nicely.”

You busied yourself wiping down the already-clean tables while he finished closing up. He kept peeking out the window every few minutes, never too obvious.

When the café was dark and the door locked behind you both, the street felt colder. Your fingers curled tightly around your coat sleeves.

“My bike’s a block over,” he said, not mentioning the car. “Want to walk with me?”

You hesitated only a second before nodding. As you started walking, the silence stretched—and you reached for his hand, uncertain and twitchy. But he took it without a word, just squeezed gently.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes kept darting over your shoulder.

He noticed. “You don’t have to keep looking,” he murmured. “I already am.”

At the bike, he handed you a helmet. You blinked up at him.

“I can take you home,” he said. “You don’t have to say yes, but… I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.”

“I—I trust you,” you said softly, holding the helmet like it might disappear.

The ride home was fast and chilly, but you were too focused on the way he leaned with the curves and kept one hand ready near yours to care. You felt the eyes again—the black car following discreetly behind. He noticed, too. Memorized the plate. Didn't say a word.

When he pulled up outside your building, he walked you to your door like a gentleman out of a dream.

You fidgeted with your keys. “Thanks. For everything. I didn’t think anyone would believe me.”

“Of course I believed you.”

There was a pause.

“Actually,” he added, clearing his throat. “Would you want to… maybe go out sometime? Like, a real date.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed. “Me?”

A sheepish grin. “Yeah. You.”

You looked down fast, heart stammering. “You’re… kind of out of my league.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve seen me trip over an empty mop bucket. I assure you, no league.”

Your lips twitched. “I’d… I’d like that.”

He handed you his phone. “Here, put your number in. And let me know if anything weird happens again. I mean it.”

You nodded, cheeks burning, and entered your contact. Then slipped inside your apartment, heart racing and face still warm.

That night, you fell asleep smiling for the first time in days.

Across the city, Nightwing wasn’t smiling.

He crouched on a rooftop across from a rundown apartment building, eyes locked on the black sedan parked out front. Same license plate. Same creep behind the wheel, still watching.

Dick had run the plate an hour ago, hacked into surveillance from the area, and cross-referenced faces. What he found had his blood running hot.

Photos. Dozens of them.

You walking to work. You at the grocery store. You sipping coffee at the café, headphones in, oblivious. All taken from a distance. Some zoomed in too close on places he shouldn’t have been looking—your legs, your chest. One photo showed you unlocking your apartment door. Another? You asleep on a bench in the park, mouth slightly open, completely vulnerable.

Dick’s hands clenched into fists so tight the leather of his gloves creaked.

By the time he was inside the stalker’s apartment, the man didn’t hear him until the first punch landed.

A hard hook to the jaw knocked him out of his chair, blood splattering the floor. He scrambled back, hand reaching for something in a drawer—but Nightwing had already kicked it shut and smashed the man’s wrist against the desk. A crack followed the scream.

"You think you’re invisible, huh?” Dick growled, voice dark and cold. “Taking pictures of them like they're some kind of prize. Following them. Making them feel unsafe.”

The man whimpered something, and Nightwing slammed him against the wall hard enough to rattle the frames hanging on it.

“You planned to do what, exactly? Just keep watching them forever? Or were you waiting for the day they were alone enough to make a move?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. An escrima stick cracked across the man’s ribs. Then again. And again.

Dick didn’t stop until the guy was coughing blood and begging.

“You’ll never go near them again,” Nightwing hissed, kneeling beside him, eyes glowing in the dim light. “You so much as think about them, I’ll know. I’ll be watching. And next time? I won’t stop myself.”

Then he grabbed the man’s camera and phone, smashing them under his boot. He wiped the drives. Erased the cloud backups. Burned the printed photos in a trash bin right there in the living room, the acrid smoke curling like a warning into the air.

He left him broken. Not dead. But close enough to wish he was.

And as he disappeared into the night, his only thought was of you—safe, warm, smiling, and never needing to know just how far he’d go to keep you that way.

The next morning, headlines hit the news: Man Revealed to be Stalker by Unkown Source in Gotham Found Nearly Beaten to Death.

You read it once. Then again. And your hands trembled.

That night, you met Dick at a small restaurant for your first official date. You sat across from him in soft lighting, fork barely moving.

You studied him carefully, then finally whispered, “It was you. Wasn’t it?”

He paused, looking away and jaw clenching then nodded. “Yeah. It was... Does that scare you?”

“No,” you whispered. “I think it’s kinda… hot.”

He blinked, taken aback. “Wait, really?”

“You still want to go out with me?”

You bit your lip. Then gave the tiniest smile. “I mean—not that I’m into violence or whatever, I just—thank you.”

You leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, pulling back fast, face flaming.

He blinked. Actually blinked.

Then—“Oh. Wow. Okay. Cool. Cool cool cool.”

He chuckled, a little pink in the ears now himself. “God, you’re cute.”

You smiled into your glass. “Still think you’re way out of my league.”