#it still hurts and i still think about it but | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherry-leclerc · 21 hours

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we never talk about it ☆ op81

genre: humor, angst, yearning, massive crushes, and lots and lots of miscommunication, assistant!reader

word count: 11k

It's unwise—longing for someone like Oscar. While he's the epitome of someone anyone can easily fall in love with, you're the epitome of a devoted girl who will fall in love with him. You might not even care too much about all the heartbreak you endure along the way.

inspired by this !

cherry here!... based on real events.

Do you remember the day we first met?

The wind doesn’t do its job in blocking him out, the way you prayed and wished it would. You’re still able to catch the crack in his voice—a distant reminder of the way it once made you giggle. Even his nose is beet red, matching the Christmas lights. But apart from all that, you still hear him. You still see him.

You always have.

“A little bit. Yeah.”

He flinches, then tries to play it off with a soft smile. Like he doesn’t want you to uncover the slight hurt he feels. But he can’t read your mind. He never could. And that was the problem.

Oscar nods, feigning indifference. “I do. Remember it all, I mean. Think back to it quite often."

It’s utterly useless to try and ignore him, really.

His hair is too fluffy, his eyes are too bright, and his accent is making you want to flaunt the way some loony character would with a hand over their heart. It was honestly a tad bit demeaning.

But you can't help it. You admire the way his brown locks fall in a lousy manner when he towers down to sign the contract. You blush when his eyes get that twinkle in them. And you swoon over almost anything he says with a shy smile.

“You’re drooling.”

Mortified, you briskly run the back of your hand against your mouth before sending a harsh glare. Lando snickers. “Would you please stop?”

His jaw drops, theatrically. “You’re not actually into him—are you?”

He says it with a trace of humor, but also shock, and you can't help but have your mouth run dry. A loose grin starts to expand across his lips as you hurriedly shake your head. “O-of course not. Are you crazy?”

But if anything, you feel crazy. You must be, right? With every passing second of your heart beating faster and faster against your chest simply just by looking at the young Australian, you’re sure you fall straight into the category like some love fool.

Lando squints his eyes. “I don’t know.” He leans in straight into your face, nearly hissing. “Am I?”

“Am I interrupting?”

Flinching hard, you turn quickly to face Anastasia. You’d initially met the black haired girl back in 2019. As you started off as the Brits personal assistant, she took over as Carlos’ and later also Daniel’s. Over the course of time, you two came to be as close as sisters.

“No! Not at all,” you squeak, nervously before pushing the McLaren driver away and patting towards the open chair next to you. She giggles, rolling her eyes and adjusting herself. “How was the flight over?”

A shrug. “As good as it can get. Sat next to a silver fox, so I guess that must count for something, no?” Lando shudders. She leans in closer, plopping her head against your shoulder. “What’d I miss?”

“Not much.” Only, that’s not true. She missed the way he laughed awkwardly when the doors wouldn’t slide open and let him into the headquarters. She missed the way he rolled his R’s a little too hard when saying ‘sorry’. She missed the way he grabbed the pen with a certain glow on his face, like he almost couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Lazy fingers pat her head gently once before sighing. “He seems nice.”

“How do you know?”

You know because of the way he talks to everyone. Like he cares about what they have to say. Whether it’s about how great his career is going to be here in McLaren or if they introduce their kids to him via FaceTime. He always wore the same smile, talked in the same warm tone. So, could your guess be far off? Yes. It could be completely far off. But you would bet money that it wasn’t.

“Just a wild hypothesis.”

Her laugh isn’t too loud, not ridiculously so, at least, but the fact that it echoes is what makes it appear as such. Anastasia is quick to slap her hand over her mouth, the Brit turns fast to face her with panic evident in his eyes, and you simply blink with a shade of red slowly creeping towards your cheekbones.

Zak grins. “You three.”

“Oh, we’re out,” Lando mumbles in monotone, already grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the exit. You follow numbly, like you don’t have any strength left in your body.

“You’re leaving me?” Anastasia hisses.

“She’s my assistant,” he says like a matter-of-fact. “Where I go, she goes.”

“Oh, you Judas—”

“All of you,” Zak clarifies, narrowing his eyes over to you and the Brit. You gulp.

With a soft curse, Anastasia stands up, tall and firm, and makes her way over with all the confidence in the world. You frown, craving to be the same way, even just a small percentage. Instead, you have to be forced by the McLaren driver.

With every step, your head just spins faster because now, he’s more than real. You can smell his cologne. You can count all the moles that cover his face if you really wanted to. You can spot how his hair is still a bit wet, indicating an early shower.

He’s just becoming— too real.

“Lando, buddy, meet your new teammate!”

“Nice to meet you,” the blue eyed boy declares with a loopy grin, letting go of your hand in order to shake his.

“Likewise.”

Zak claps once. “Oh! And meet your personal assistant, Anastasia.”

“Here for anything you might need,” she cheers with a bright smile.

“Fantastic.”

A wave of silence overlaps your four before Lando clears his throat. “And even though you might not be working with her one-on-one, this is my Anastasia.” A snicker. “My assistant, if you will.”

“Nice to meet you—”

You both freeze, hands intertwined for a second longer before abruptly letting go. He lets out a dry laugh while you do the same. The way your skin tingles makes you blush.

“This is fun and all, but we actually have somewhere to be,” the Brit claims with a suspicious look slashed across his usual laid back expression. You nod. “But we’ll see each other soon, man. Can’t wait to race together!”

In a flash, you two are out the door, leaving a dumbfounded Oscar blinking slowly.

“He fucks with you.”

“Excuse me?”

Another bench press. “As in, he likes you. He’s into you.”

You don’t dare ask who he is because you already know who the Brit’s referring to and that would only inflate your ego. Snapping your fingers, you narrow your eyes. “Focus. Two more sets left to go.” He groans, flipping you off.

It would be a lie to say that this didn’t make your self-esteem skyrocket. Could he be right? Could someone like Oscar ever lay eyes on you? Somewhere in your dreams, you’d like to say yes. Yes. That is a possibility. But the longer you think about it, the more unrealistic it gets.

You don’t have what others do. And that itself is enough to pop the bubble.

The start of the season is always tough.

“He’s extremely nervous.”

For some more than others.

You frown. “Really? But he’s usually so…relaxed.”

Anastasia shrugs, hair falling over her shoulder as she continues typing. “I mean, I tried talking to him but with everything I said, he’d just reply—'that's nice’. It was sarcastic, if anything. I would have laughed if I didn’t feel for him. Poor boy.” Her fingers freeze mid-air. “Wait—do you think you could talk to him?”

“I’m not sure that’s a great idea—”

“Come on! Maybe it’ll help him ease his nerves!”

“Ana—”

“Please.”

You huff. “Okay. Fine. Yeah. I’ll see what I can do.”

As soon as you knock, you almost want to turn away. Maybe it was all an exaggeration. Plus, it’s not like he’s going to die from having butterflies in his stomach. Yeah, surely he’ll be fine and he doesn’t really even need you to—

“Come in.”

He wasn't expecting you, that much you can tell by the way his brows go up. But he’s quick to erase the confusion, settling with a fond expression. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you squeak before cringing at the sound. He chuckles, returning to his warm-up exercises. “How are you feeling?”

Another chuckle, this time amused. “Anastasia sent you, didn’t she?”

“What?” A beat. “No.”

He hums. “Tsk. I’m a bit nervous, that's all.”

You lick your lips, kicking your foot up against the doorframe. What could you possibly say that she hasn’t already? If she couldn’t ease him, then how can you? The thought of messing up and making it worse makes your stomach churn.

“You’re going to do g—”

“Great?” He sighs, blowing his cheeks. “That’s exactly what she said.”

“And what’s wrong with it? She’s only trying to help.”

“No. I know she is, but…” He looks down onto his lap, pausing all movements. “Look, I appreciate you both. What you’re trying to do for me, but I can’t stand hearing what others think I want to hear.”

“It doesn’t do it for you?”

His eyes grow slightly wide with the way you go about and ask. He’s never seen you be anything other than sweet and reserved. But this—right now—is stern and very coach-like. Something and someone you aren’t. Not even close.

“It doesn’t,” he admits, finally looking away. “Never liked it. Always sounds too forced.”

You nod, crossing your arms. “Fine. I can tell you the truth. I can be truthful.” He perks. “Oscar, you’re a terrific driver.” He groans, covering his face with his hands. “But just because you’re great doesn’t mean you’ll be great all the time.” The Australian frowns, uncovering and looking up at you with attentive eyes. “You’re going to mess up. You’re going to be second, or third, or something even twentieth, but that doesn’t matter, you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you signed that contract, so you sort of have to suck it up, either way.” He lets out a loud laugh. Very unlike him. A weak smile threatens to fall as you try your best to push it back. “There’s going to be bad races, but there’s also going to be very good races. It all depends on you and how hard you work. Sometimes you’ll have a good car, a good strat, and others you’ll have a shitbox and a bad strat. That’s just the way this sport works, okay?”

Oscar blinks slowly, as if trying to decipher who you are, and that itself makes you dizzy. “I-I-I don’t care if you’re nervous, I don’t care if you’re sure—all we care is that you drive that car, and that you try your best no matter what. Can you do that?”

It’s foreign. The feeling in his chest. He’s not used to hearing any of this. As of recently, everyones been texting him to say how great he’s going to be. How far he’ll go. And while he was grateful for having unconditional support, he also dreaded hearing it sometimes because he doesn’t even want to picture letting any of them down. He’ll act like he’s fine, he’ll act like he doesn’t care—but none of that would be true.

The brunette tilts his head to the side, slightly squinting. “I can. I can always try my best. Even if I fall short.”

“Good.” A beat. “We all believe in you. No matter what, okay?”

A timid smile. “I know…”

He ends up having to retire the car by lap fifteen, but the most astonishing part is that he’s not even upset. He tried his best. He listened to every single advice his engineer would alert him with. He practiced long hours in the stimulator.

This is just the way things go sometimes. Just like you said.

“I’m bored. Can I get a ten minute break or something?” Lando grimaces, rolling his wrist like it's the worst pain in the world.

You hum, fixing the signed hats back into the box. With eyes screwed, you shrug. “Fine. But only ten! I’m serious. We need to have this done by one.”

“Yes! Ten—got it.”

He doesn’t come back in ten. For the matter, he actually goes missing.

You narrow your eyes towards the clock, watching as it clicks like some mockery. You’re going to strangle him. You vow at that very moment that you’ll strangle the Brit as soon as you lay hands on him. With one final huff of desperation, you stand up, rubbing your eyes. People frolic through the paddock—you’re sure you even catch a glimpse of Lewis being papped—but that’s not what catches all of your attention.

Instead, you find yourself leaning against the rail, squinting down to where the man of the hour sits, microphones huddled all around him like some interrogation. Anastasia smiles politely, back straight, and voice-recorder in hand.

It’s faint—you almost can’t hear a thing—but it’s just enough.

How does it feel to be back home? Enjoying it, no?

Oscar hums, straight brows slightly furrowed due to the bright sun, but just one adjustment of his hat makes that all go away. “Feels good. I’m able to sleep in my own bed, so that’s pretty cool. And yes. It may be a bit biased, but I am enjoying my time here more than the last two races.” Everyone chuckles.

Can we talk about your expectations for this weekend?

You can see him pause, and from where you’re standing, the way his fingers drum against his chair. “Well, I, uh…I hope for a good car.” The joke is supposed to be there, but you can tell everyone was expecting more with the way they murmur to one another. You wince.

Will raises the microphone up to his lips, along with his hand in order to catch the brunette’s attention. “I’m sure there’s been lots of people reaching out to you since this is your first home race, but has there been someone’s advice that has stuck like no other?”

Oscar smiles gently. “There has been, actually.”

You freeze, gripping the steel bar with anticipation. Your knuckles nearly feel like they’re about to snap, and you feel like you’re probably leaning a bit too far over the edge to hear it all, but you don’t even care. Will chuckles. “If it’s not too much to ask, would you mind sharing with us all? I’m sure it’ll help a lot of youngsters watching.”

Anastasia slides the recorder closer. Oscar visibly swallows. “I’m not sure I can. I never asked her for permission to talk about it. And quite frankly, I’d like to keep it between us.”

Will perks up. “Her?”

The black-haired girl is quick to whisper into his ear, turning the opposite way so no one can even attempt to read her lips. He nods, eyes trained forward like some guard. “Any more questions?” But everyone’s intrigued at this point, so all the questions that follow remain the same. Something that makes Anastasia panic and Oscar regret his choice of words.

“Can we get a name?” some blurts out, nearly seeming desperate to get the inside scoop.

Only, his face remains still, jaw slacked. “No.”

Will raises his hand. “Very well, we don’t have any right to know, but are you willing to share a bit about what she said?”

And it’s almost as if the Australian can foresee that the only way to get out of this situation is by giving them what they want. Even if it’s a stupid little crumb. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “She told me to try my best. That’s all I can really do.”

The mix of photographers and journalists deflate. “I-I’m sorry,” Lawrence Barretto slides in with a light tone and an ever lighter smile. “Don’t mean to lessen its meaning, but isn’t that a common thing to say? To hear?” An awkward laugh. “I mean, I just thought it’d be something a bit more…deep. Inspiring, perhaps.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks and you’re grateful to whatever God may exist that you’re not down there. On the other hand, Oscar is a bit bothered by the innocent comment, but then realizes he doesn't have to be. They weren’t there. They don’t know just how much more you said. How upfront you were with him without sounding condescending. Something most people did without even realizing.

The brown eyed boy spares a smile. “Like I said—some things I’d like to keep between her and I. And even if it was just that, it’s the way she said it.” A beat. “It’s quite a lavish thing to have. A sincere person to talk to, I mean.”

Will tilts his head suspiciously. “It appears she might be someone special to you, yes?”

The Australian freezes at the unwanted interpretation. Suddenly, the atmosphere is far too crowded. He lets out a forced chuckle, rolling his neck before messaging it gently. “Well, yes. I’d agree.”

A mix of giddiness and shock rushes through your veins as you refrain yourself from jumping up and down with excitement.

“You’d be lucky if you had her as a friend too.”

“Is everything okay?”

Biting down on the churro he had gifted you as an apology for not getting back on time, you growl. “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Lando raises a thick brow. “Dunno. Maybe the fact that you’re moping.”

Your jaw goes slack, immediately turning to face him. “I am not moping.”

The sound he lets out indicates he doesn’t quite believe you, but is choosing to let it go. Also, he doesn’t want to see your patience run out, too scared of what you might do. The curly haired driver plops down onto his bed that stands in his motorhome, closing his eyes. You nearly envy the indifference in him. The lack of worry.

“I can hear your teeth clenching. Gross.”

A grunt. “I’m gonna go grab a coffee. Need anything?”

“Only a nap. It’s a good thing you’ll be gone.” He turns over to his side, bringing your jacket over his face to block out any light. You bite the air, swinging silently for a minute or two before exiting the cramped room.

The sun hurts, you remember thinking, but the upcoming migraine you’re getting is even worse. You should be used to this by now, given you’ve suffered from them since elementary, but based on the way you zig zag without meaning to is enough proof to know that you’re not. Everyone's voices are suddenly muffled, even the sound of engines roaring is as soft as a feather. You wince, massaging your temples as if that might help.

Woah, are you feeling alright?

“I’m fine,” you respond meekly, to who even knows. You wave them off rudely. “I’ll be fine. Just. Leave me alone.”

Anastasia frowns, all while fanning your face. “No. You need to lay down.” She nudges the Australian, who up until now, you had no clue he had his arm clung around your waist. If you weren’t too busy feeling like shit, you’d definitely be making a fool out of yourself. Her green eyes fill up with worry. “I’m gonna go look for a paramedic.”

“You’re doing too much,” you slur, body letting loose and making the brunette shriek as he grips you harder, trying to keep you upright.

A deadpan expression. “Oscar, take her back to your motorhome and have her lay down.”

He nods, hesitantly. “Y-yeah, okay. Okay.” Once she runs off like a headless chicken, you let out a dramatic gag. Sharp brows knit together with horror. “Do I smell bad?”

A giggle. “No. As a matter of fact, you smell rich.”

With his arm still wrapped around you securely, and warm eyes flickering from to you back to see where he’s heading, he grins, eyes crinkling. “Rich? That just so happens to have a scent?”

You purse your lips, wincing at the fact that your peripheral vision has gone completely dark. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I’m a terrific liar and I’m only stroking your ego for my benefit.”

Another chuckle. “Benefit? What benefit may that be?”

Tsk. “How else am I gonna get you to take me to bed?”

The Australian instantly chokes hard on a string of his own saliva, causing you to flinch at the loud sound. Loud to you, at least. He apologizes, but not before taking a glance down, like it’s the first time meeting you.

As soon as you lay down on the miniature mattress, you release a groan. Even just having your eyes closed makes you dizzy. You let out a loud groan, kicking your feet against the cushion in desperation.

“That bad?”

“That annoying.”

And even though you can’t see him, he nods, internally freaking out, trying to think of ways to help. “Does this happen to you often?”

“Yes.”

He nods, sheepishly. “W-what do you normally do? You know? To help?”

Tossing over to lay on your side, you pinch your eyes, grinding your molars. For a minute, you sort of thought your teeth might crack. Everything about this situation was becoming unbearable. “My mom, she, um…she’d normally braid my hair. It helped sometimes. Others it didn’t.” Messy hair dangles over your face as you let you out a loud exhale, as if you were in the middle of releasing some demon. “I moved too much, she said.”

Oscar smiles, coming across like a faint memory locked in the back of your mind. “I-I-I can try…” Loopy eyes flicker up to face him, and he’s quick to scrunch his nose. The sight alone makes you breathe easier, though he doesn’t know that. Of course he doesn’t. “Only if you want me to…”

“You know how?”

“Sort of? When I was younger, I used to sit across from my sisters at the breakfast table. I was bound to learn a thing or two.”

The subtle proud smile makes your heart beat flutter, smitten at the insight to his childhood. You wish you knew more. Like what was his favorite show? Did he have any imaginary friends, just like you did? Or maybe his favorite superhero? But you swallow all those questions down your throat as soon as he kneels down next to you. The whiff of soft musk distinctively adds to your headache, but you’re too focused on him for something as dumb as that to matter.

“Just…close your eyes.”

Taking one last glance at him, you comply, lashes fanning slowly before going completely dark. You can still hear him adjusting, you can feel him take your hair into his hands, but nothing makes you stop breathing like his touch that grazes your cheek.

It’s almost ghostlike—doesn’t really stay on the same spot for too long—but you know it’s real. Long fingers calmly push strands of hair behind your ear, tranquility expanding over your body. The slight tickle it causes helps ease your pounding migraine, little by little.

“Are my hands too cold?” he whispers, not trying to intrude, but at the same time, wanting to know. You twist, bottom lip jutting out. Not at all. Keep going. And he does. He ends up tangling your hair a bit, because as it turns out, he doesn’t remember much, but he’s sure to delicately fix his mess, brows drawn in with heavy concentration.

As soon as your hair is back to flowing free, he relaxes, wincing a bit at the pain in his knees. Your hair feels soft. Just what he would imagine a cloud would feel like. For a second, he begins to wonder, who’s this really for? He feels like this might be soothing him more than you.

Just then, his finger catches on a knot, and he freezes, stopping all movements. “Holy crap, I am so sorry, I—”

You let out a low whimper, but don’t do so much as bat an eye. You’re sound asleep. The brunette lets out a breath of relief, falling back to sit on the ground.

Your face is a bit squashed—and you’re drooling just a tad bit—but for some odd reason, he finds himself admiring. You’re full lips. You’re lashes. God, even the way you breathe. He feels a tender smile itching, but it never truly gets to see the light of day, because before he knows it, the door is swung wide open.

Anastasia stops dead in her tracks. “What happe—is she asleep?”

Oscar opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. He does this a couple of times, awkwardly turning to face you and his assistant, back and forth, back and forth. “She, um…just did. A minute ago.”

She pouts, scratching her head. “Weird. Usually when this happens it prolongs for at least ten minutes before it gets any better.” The green eyed girl sheepishly waves the group of paramedics away. A trail of sighs echo as they turn away. As soon as they’re gone, she gently shuts the door, then tippy toes towards the edge of the small bed. Neat brows furrow. “At least she’s feeling better, no?”

Brown eyes follow her gaze. “Yeah. At least.”

Lando ends up throwing—and according to him— “The World’s Coolest Jamboree”. You beg for him to call it anything but jamboree, but he’s too attached to it by the time he sends the last text invite, which so happens to be to the rookie driver.

“Has anyone RSVPed?” you question over his shoulder. He’s in the middle of mixing some mysterious liquid, but by the looks of it, doesn’t look any good. You grimace.

He lets out a bleh before dropping his utensils. “No one RSVPs these days. They either show up, or they don’t.”

A slow nod. “So, you don’t know who’s coming?”

“Not a clue. But most likely everyone.”

You scoff. “How are you so sure?”

He gives you an ‘are you kidding me?’ type glare before sending a sly grin. “First of all, it’s my party. They’d be crazy to miss out. And second of all…it’s only the biggest, funnest, coolest jamboree!”

“Funnest is not a word.”

“And party-poopers aren’t welcomed.” You gasp, smacking his chest harshly. He lets out a snicker, picking up a bag of ice and spilling it into the glass bowl. “But I’ll make an exception. Just this once.”

“Just this once,” you mimic before dipping your pinky in. He instantly slaps your hand away. Smacking your lips, you let out a yelp at the bitter taste. “This tastes like ass. God—not even Daniel will drink this, and that guy drinks anything in his way. I’m surprised he hasn’t been accidentally roofied.”

Lando claps his hands with amusement. “God forbid. And please, pay your respect to Lando’s Best Worst Decision.” A beat. “™.”

“™?” you deadpan. “What? Are you planning on adding a trademark to this sewage water?”

“It’s good, okay?” Mixing the clear liquid once more, he smiles fondly down at it. “And maybe. I’m seriously considering it.”

You sneer, already walking away.

He ends up being right. Not even an hour later, the party is in full swing. Sure, a couple drivers aren’t able to make it, but it’s still jammed packed. It's honestly a miracle to get through the Monaco flat.

You’re still sober?

Laughing, you nod, raising your water up in the air like some toast. Daniel frowns. “Considering I have to make sure my number one client doesn’t make any bad choices tonight, then nope. Can’t have a sip of alcohol.”

Brown eyes flutter slowly. “I’m sure there’s other beverage choices. Have you tried Lando’s Best Worst Decision?” He leans in, winking. “™.”

“Oh no. Don’t tell me you actually like it?” He shrugs and you shudder in disgust. “I’m sure I saw him add ten energy shots and God knows what else.”

“No wonder I feel kinda funky.” Your face drops. “Hey, if you pass out, can I crash tonight?”

“Daniel!” you groan, covering your face. “I swear, I’m going to spill that stupid drin—” Only, Daniel is gone. Craning your head, you circle the room. From where you stand, you’re able to see Carlos and Lando taking part in a heated round of pool, all while Charles sways back and forth, infamous red cup in hand.

Marching over to the kitchen island, you pick up the glass bowl and carry it over to the sink before tipping it over. You huff, hair fanning across your nose.

“Stupid, stupid boys—”

“Hey.”

You shriek, dropping the bowl, and wincing at the sound of glass shattering.

Oscar grimaces. “Shit. Sorry. Are you hurt?”

“No.” You sigh. “Lando’s gonna kill me.”

Grabbing the nearby broom, the Australian sweeps carefully while knitting his brows. “Why?”

“It’s a family heirloom.”

“A glass bowl?”

You giggle. “I wonder why too.”

Despite the blaring music, and constant chattering, the room feels rather silent. You fiddle with the hem of your dress, and that seems to catch his eye as it dawns on him that he hasn’t really seen you in anything other than your usual uniform. To be fair, you could say the same. He likes it.

You clear your throat. “Halfway done. How do you feel?”

He sips on his water, jaw clicking before settling with a sharp tsk. “Good. I think I’m finally getting the hang of it. Anastasia even congratulated me the other day when I diverted a series of questions with ease.”

Impressed, you raise your brows. “Bravo. Wish that was the case with Lando. I swear, sometimes I think he does and says things to make me look bad on purpose.”

“He should stop,” he says with a goofy smile. “Does he not know how lucky he is to get to call you his assistant?”

You blush. “Best friend, actually. I’ve been promoted ever since I pretended to be his girlfriend last New Year's Eve.”

The brunette inches forward with curiosity. “Wish to clarify?”

You hop onto the island, fixing your dress and crossing your legs. “Don’t tell him that I told you any of this, but I secretly think he was embarrassed of not having a midnight’s kiss. Especially since his ex was there with her new boyfriend. Talk about the unexpected.”

His chest tightens. “You two, um…kissed, then?”

“Yes,” you confirm with a childlike grin, and for some reason, it makes him want to puke. “Oh God, I haven’t thought about this in forever!”

He pretends to find interest in the crowded room, but really, it all remains on you. “Was it any good?”

You blush this time and he swears he’s close to walking away. “Yes and no. I mean, it wasn’t bad, but it just didn’t feel right.”

He perks up then, floppy hair bouncing at the sudden speed. “Really?” He coughs, then fixes his watch, training his eyes towards the floor. “Erm, I mean, is that so?”

A nose scrunch. “It felt like kissing someone you’re not supposed to. Which I suppose is true. We’re better off as friends.” He relaxes. “Thinking about it, we might’ve gagged each other's mouths.” You grimace. “If that doesn't show our discomfort, then I don’t know what will.”

“Good to know.” Oscar rubs his arm, up and down, then steps closer to you. You blink. “Hey, I was meaning to ask—”

Strippers? I didn’t order any strippers.

Hire, a male voice interjects. He means to say he didn’t—hire—any strippers.

“Son of a…” You wince apologetically, to which he shrugs. Don’t worry. Go. Biting your lip, you nod, rushing to the living room, where Lando, Daniel, and a bunch of other randoms circle the almost nude girls with long legs.

“I mean, I won’t turn you away, ladies,” the Brit mumbled, already wrapping his arms around their waists. They all giggle, inching closer until he’s a blushing mess.

You snap your fingers, pointing towards the exit. “All of you need to leave.”

Is that your sister? the one with a cowboy hat whispers into his ear. He quickly shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at you like a deadly weapon.

“No. That’s his girlfriend,” Daniel yodels, face pressed up against the couch, admiring the group of girls. “But they’re in an open relationship.”

“I’m not his girlfriend—”

“She’s not my girlfriend—”

Oscar’s jaw clenches, eyes focused on the entire commotion. The older Australian rolls his eyes. “Right. We don’t talk about it.”

“Would you stop trying to help?” you shoot back, sarcastically, and clap your hands as if you’re rounding up a new high school cheer. “I need you all out. You want money? Fine. He’ll give you money,” you declare, signaling towards Lando.

“Hey,” he groans, instantly letting go and stepping closer to you. “They haven’t even done anything to earn it….”

Your eye twitches. “I swear to God—”

“Deal,” the redhead shoots out. “But we need a moment to come to an agreement. You know? On how much we want to ask for.”

“Perfect,” you chirp, rolling your heels. “Take out your wallet, Big Boy.”

“You used to be fun.”

“And you used to be terrified over a pair of tits when I first met you. Whatever happened?” Lando blushes profoundly before pushing you away. “Want them gone, Lando, gone!”

“Yes! Jesus Christ—let me deal with this.”

“I’m done,” you promise with your hands raised up in surrender. “But just remember what happened last time.” He frowns, cocking his head to the side. You wiggle your brows. “São Paulo.”

Color drains his face before letting out an unhinged laugh and motioning you away. You giggle, heading back to where Oscar stands.

“I see what you mean,” he announces. What? “How he can have a bit of a headache.”

“See! I told you! Four years of this!” A dramatic yawn. “I’m tired.”

A string of boo’s follow once the strippers prance out the door, waving all their money in the air. Specifically Daniel, who genuinely looks upset to see them go. Oscar leans down against the counter, the proximity between you becoming smaller. “You should get some rest, then.” But he selfishly doesn’t mean it. He wants you to stay—to keep talking to him.

You let out a snort, grabbing your sides. “I mean, I'm tired of being Lando’s assistant. It’s a full time job, y’know?”

“Oh.” He stands up straight again. “Right. Of course.”

You purse your lips, looking down to your shoes. “But that was actually quite thoughtful.”

She thinks I’m thoughtful, he internally swoons because that must be a good sign, right? Not everyone is thoughtful, but he is, and that must count for something. Gathering all the strength he has left—which is not much considering you blink up at him like some angel—he licks his pink lips. “Back to what I was going to say earlier before you left—”

“I wasn’t trying to step on him! I already said I was sorry!” you hear a familiar voice, instantly turning to find Anastasia kicking Daniel’s face back into place, well, since he now lays asleep on the floor. You curse beneath your breath, jumping off the island once again.

“His head did a complete 360!” Yuki accuses, clearly panicked. “That's not normal, is it?”

“No, it is,” Pierre replies with a bored tone. “I’ve seen it happen before.”

Crouching down next to the curly haired driver, you jab his cheek before motioning Oscar and Anastasia closer. “Help me carry him to the guest room,” you instruct, already taking off your cardigan.

The black haired girl is quick on her feet, grabbing the Australians right leg as you grab the left. Oscar, however, swallows hard at the amount of cleavage you’re suddenly displaying, but instantly snaps out of it when both you and Anastasia blink back at him. He picks up the Alpha Tauri driver’s upper body before puffing.

You blush bright pink at the sight of his muscles pulsing against his t-shirt. “I-It’s just around the corner.”

As soon as you make it into the room, you three carefully place Daniel onto the bed, to which he squirms before flipping over and snoring away. You motion a finger over your lips before pushing them both out. Gently closing the door behind you,you let out a breath of relief.

Anastasia lets out a whistle. “Surprisingly not that heavy.”

Oscar scoffs. “Easy for you to say. I had to carry most of his weight.”

She shrugs, hugging you hello and apologizing for being so late, and you’re quick to reassure her that it’s fine, though she missed the chance to see strippers give Lando a tough time. She sneers. “I didn’t even know there existed strippers in Monaco.” And then she’s off, clapping loudly at the sight of Lando giving out a round of jello shots. You sigh, rubbing your temples.

“I-I’m sorry. What were you going to say?”

He freezes. “Oh. Just that—” He panics. “Only that I like your shoes!”

You blink, deflating from within. But you try to cover it up with a soft smile. “Thanks, I guess?” Orbs flicker down toward your white Sambas. “Lando says they are overrated, but I like ‘em.”

He nods. “Yeah. I like them too.”

It happens one Friday afternoon—the decision.

You’re in between races, you’re in between headaches, and you’re ready to self-implode. So, before any of that happens, you make your first decision. To go on a walk.

It’s getting rather chilly these days, something you love, but also hate. You love it because there is a certain coziness that comes along with it, but you also hate it because you can’t always be cozy, so you’re left shivering. Much like now. But to be fair, this was your own choosing.

The pounding that takes over your head lessens the longer you stroll, the longer you breathe actual fresh air. You don’t really think much, you mainly remain blank, but the sound of tires screeching rips you away. Squinting hard, you catch a glimpse of a lady with grocery bags flipping off the fellow driver, who shares nothing but an apologetic smile before driving off.

“What happened? Do I have something on my face?”

Dusting your nose, then your cheek, you blush faintly. You instantly assume it’s the powdered donuts fault—the one you had gobbled up in a hurry during the drive back to the paddock. It was an early morning, and no one really made it on time when it came to early days, but you always did. And so did Oscar. So, a sleepy Zak gave you a wad of cash, and sent you two to the nearest donut shop.

The Australian shakes his head, blinking straight ahead. “N-no, I was just checking my blind spot.”

That only makes you blush harder because in what crazy world would he be looking at you?

A single nod. The car is quiet apart from the sound of his hands moving against the steering wheel, and the sound of the blinker clicking. It’s gloomy, too. You clear your throat. “I love it when it rains.” He hums, calmly, encouraging you to continue. “It just makes me happy.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You purse your lips. “I sort of wish I were home. That way I can snuggle near the window and fall asleep to the sound of light drizzle.”

The brunette quirks a brow towards the road. “That sounds nice. Like…really nice.” A pause. “Why can’t you do that here, though?”

Here—here means where you are right now. Here means this place that’s not home. Here is not close to being enough, but he doesn’t figure that one out. You blink, dragging your finger along the pink box sitting on your lap. “Trust me, I’ve tried.” A small shrug. “But it’s just not the same, y’know? There’s always something missing.”

He doesn’t waste a moment in asking. “What do you think that is?”

Taken aback by his inquiry, you let yourself surmise for a second or two before licking your lips. “Maybe a pup. To keep me company”

He semi-frowns, cocking his head to send you a deadpan expression. “A dog?”

Now it’s your turn to frown, sending him a glare. “What were you thinking?”

The red light lets him take focus on you. “Dunno. A boyfriend, maybe?”

You’re sure you’re nearly as tomato red as the light staring at you both. “What? You instantly just assume I don't have one already?”

He freezes. “Well, I, um…t-that’s not what I meant—”

“Look, I know I’m not a guys’ typical ‘dream girl’, but sheesh I’m not that unlovable. At least, I hope not, but now you’re making me second guess. I mean, your opinion must indicate everyone sees me as some sort of lonely widow.”

Oscar shakes his head, adamantly. “I don’t see you as such.” A slow pause. “A lonely widow, I mean. I find your words to not be all that true, really. You’re nice. You’re persevering, You’re beautiful. And you have a good heart.” The light translates back to green, and you’re freakishly thankful, that way he can’t see you burn up. “You could easily be anyone's dream. Whoever makes you think otherwise is a phony.”

It’s getting harder not to laugh—most likely out of skeptic shock—but you refrain. He’s simply being kind with you, but that doesn’t stop you from nearly going into cardiac arrest. His words should have been labeled with a warning.

“Guess this world is filled with lots of phonies.”

He scoffs. “There shouldn’t be. Not when it comes to a girl like you.”

Your breath catches. “Os—”

All of a sudden, the car comes to a harsh stop, sending you flying, but not the Australian, who remains sitting up straight. An older man flips him off before riding off on his bike. You both breath hard, turning to face each other.

“Are you okay?” he questions, voice laced with worry.

You nod, slightly dazed. “I, um—yeah. Are you?”

A nod. “I didn’t even see where he came from.”

A weak laugh finally erupts. “Blame it on the poor innocent man— clever.”

Brown eyes soften. They flicker from your orbs back to your pouty lips. He’s only checking if you’re okay, of course. You send him a reassuring bow and he releases a heavy breath.

“Guess I was too focused on my blind spot, once again.”

The next decision comes when you opt in to join your neighbor, Mr. Lennon, for a cup of tea after he finds you shivering. By that time, it’s raining hard, you're soaking wet, and it only makes sense to accept his kind offer.

“Mint. To hopefully push back any upcoming cold. God, what were you thinking?”

You let out a laugh. “Not much. That’s why I was aimlessly roaming.”

“What about now?”

You halt, mug raised up to your chapped lips. “What about now?”

He smiles, softly, mixing his own tea with a heavy spoon of honey. “Did the walk help? Were you able to get the wheels rolling?”

Now you giggle loudly. “That’s not very nice! The wheels are working just fine, thank you very much.”

The light scent of pine trees enter the room as soon as he stands up to open his window, the sound of soft rain singing to you as some much needed therapy. “So? What were you pondering about out there?”

“I wasn’t pondering.”

“Walking alone in the middle of a thunderstorm?” A sore laugh. “Been there. Done that. There’s always something on someone’s mind when that happens. Which isn’t often, or usual, so that must mean you’re really stuck up on something.”

“Or someone,” you mumble beneath your breath. His brows dart up, and you sheepishly settle the mug down. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

You blink. You don’t really talk about him out loud. Not with Lando. Not with Anastasia. Not even with your own reflection. Everything has always remained with you. A place you knew to be safe because you made it safe. But Mr. Lennon’s eyes prove to you that he’s lived enough lives—enough scenarios—to maybe understand. Even just a fraction. He watches you visibly gulp. And he knows that look. The confusion, the yearning.

“I’m in love with this boy.”

He hums, leaning back against his wooden chair. “There’s always a boy.”

You look down. “He’s a friend of mine, which makes everything much worse because I can’t ruin that. But for the first time in all my years of living…” Round, glossy eyes stare back at him with a hopeless expression. “I really—really—want to.”

He’s attentive, he listens like some frozen statue, and maybe that’s what fuels your courage to continue speaking. “My entire life, I’ve had crushes, sure, but I’ve never loved someone. Not seriously. So, of course I’m caught off guard when I do feel that for someone who I’m not even in a relationship with.” A playful snort. “God, I feel so stupid.”

The silence that lingers is comforting. Your nerves flow away with the rain, and you feel at peace. Quietly, he clears his throat. “Can I tell you a story?”

A soft sigh. “I’m all ears.”

Gray brows furrow as if trying to recover a distant memory. “I once loved a boy, too.” Your eyes widen. Sure, you knew he was never married, never even had a kid, but you never thought of any reason as to why not. He nods, faintly. “Not many know, and not because I’m ashamed, not by any means…” A single beat. “But because real, sincere feelings are easier to ignore. Because who wants to deal with reality, right? Who wants to confess and be turned away like some dog at your door?”

Exactly, you think, nodding along. “Everyone is always going to be scared of something, but avoidant people like us are terrified about the what-ifs.” He sends a wink. “And I’m living proof that being that way won’t get you nowhere. And you'll realize sooner or later in life that you’d rather be nowhere with someone you love, than nowhere…” His eyes circle the nearly empty kitchen, despite living there for the past twenty years. “...all alone.”

Your chin wobbles. “You know you have me, right? I’m always next door.” A wet laugh follows. “Anyways, I might even join you in this lonely life, eh? Doesn’t sound half bad if I’m doing it with you.”

Tender eyes close slowly before blinking back at you. “No. I want you to be the complete opposite from me. Be different. Tell him how you feel. Even if it costs you a broken heart, tell him. Because I’m telling you right now that a broken heart is always better than the constant desire that will always follow you like the devil.”

A warm droplet rolls down your cheek as you sheepishly laugh, but he doesn’t judge. He never has. Instead, ever the true gentleman, he hands you his handkerchief. “Did you ever get the chance to tell him that you…”

His wrinkles imprint more vividly as he breathes out. “I did, but it didn’t really make the difference I had hoped for. He was already married to someone else.”

A loud sob escapes. “That’s not f-fair. You deserve to be happy with the man you love.”

“I do. But you know what?” You rub the tears away, eyes connecting. “I’ve made peace with the consequences of my own actions.”

By now the rain has died down, and so have you. With one last smile, Mr. Cleve gives your cold hand a soft squeeze.

“Learn from my mistakes, won’t you?”

That same night, as you cried over a bottle of wine, you made your third and final decision. And you would execute it all the next time you saw him, no matter the outcome.

But now that you spoke about it once to someone, you felt almost invincible. Which is why you called Lando.

You what?

A wince. “You can’t tell him, okay? I’m legitimately trusting you with this!” He opens his mouth, but you’re quick to signal him off. “Including Ana.”

“Wow. I thought she’d know.” You shrug because you don’t really have an explanation for not having had confided in her, but you know deep down that you’re not really into playing a game of Cupid, and that’s exactly what she'd turn this into. The Brit nods, sympathetically. “Alright. I won’t tell a single soul.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you going to tell him how you feel?”

His question comes out hesitant—like he’s afraid of scaring you away from the possibility—but it doesn’t. Instead, you nod, to which he’s extra surprised because you’ve never been the kind to. “That’s the main reason I told you any of this. Because I wanted to ask you if you knew if he has a girlfriend or not? Someone he’s trying to pursue? I’d hate to…intervene.”

Lando let’s put a soft smile, dimples imprinting neatly onto his face. “I mean, he’s particularly private—you know him—but I’ve never heard him mention having a girl. It doesn’t seem like he does. Go for it. What do you have to lose?”

“My dignity? A good friend?”

Silently, he grimaces because even he can see how much this all means to you—how much you’re scared. So, to boost up your confidence—which is something he definitely doesn’t lack—he flashes a loopy grin. “He probably likes you, anyways.”

You come to a fast halt. Suddenly, painting your nails isn’t your top priority. “Really? You think so?” He nods, and you can’t help but smile back. “What’d he say?”

“Well, as I already stated before, he keeps his things locked up pretty well. But I do recall one time…” He closes his eyes harshly. Then, he snaps his fingers loudly. “I believe in Hungary. He was on a high. And we shared a bottle of champagne to celebrate. So, he sort of let loose. Like insanely loose.”

“And?” you push, eagerly trying to get whatever he has stuck in his throat out of him. The green eyed boy snickers.

“He wasn’t very clear, but he did say he had a crush on a girl. Someone he really wanted to get to know. But that things were a little bit difficult.” You nod, urging him to continue. “I asked why, and he said it was because she had a good heart, or something of that sort? Good intentions? Can’t remember—and that he didn’t want to ruin it.”

Your breath hitches.

And you have a good heart. You could easily be anyone’s dream.

Ironically, you’re huddled in Lando’s flat once again when it happens. Well. Almost happens. It’s filled with a few McLaren members because he insisted on hosting a nice brunch. And it was. Nice, you mean.

“Pretty,” Anastasia says, sending a soft smack towards your ass. You yelp, swatting her hand away, and pulling your skirt downward. She snickers. “You should tie your hair up more often. Let’s everyone admire such an angel face.”

“Stop it,” you hiss, but can’t hide the pink flush. “But thank you.”

She grins, eyes crinkling. Black hair sways as she moves to the beat of the music, nursing her drink. “Nice to have a break…”

“Definitely.”

At some point, she slithers away, leaving you all alone on the balcony. Which was quite lonesome until he came along. Oscar scrunched his nose, meekly. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Don’t own this place, do I?”

He lets off a raw chuckle. Deeper than when you first met him, and you come to the realization that a lot about him has changed. His hair is longer, his neck is thicker, and his shoulders are wider. But his smile and eyes remain the same. Boyish.

“Thinking?”

You sigh, admiring the ocean set out right in front of you. “Thinking, yes. A lot these days.”

And if he’s patient enough, he’d notice the way your hands shake. Tiny vibrates, but still.. He’d notice the way you bite down on your lip, brushing it along the way. He’d notice the way you blink feverishly, like even the wind hurts.

And he is. He is a patient person. So, he does notice.

“Do you know what song this is?”

Brows furrow, deep in thought. And he’s quick to note that the ticks you had are coming to an easy halt. Mentally, though, you’re cursing yourself out because you do know. You do know the song that flows nicely into your ears, but simply having him next to you is what’s making you forget. How dare me have that kind of power over you?

“I know it,” you start. “But I can’t seem to remember right now...”

The brunette gently nods his head along to the beat. His eyes close, and his hair delicately tussles, and suddenly he’s the only thing you see. “Sex,” he says. You blush, ripping your gaze away before he catches you in the act. Oscar laughs. “It’s Sex by The 1975. How could I forget?”

“Oh yeah.”

The guitar screeches when the volume somehow gets louder, despite not being inside. “Would have killed me not to get it right. My sister listens to it all the time.”

Plump lips pressed together. “You have a sister?” But you know the answer to that question, of course you do. You’re a girl. You’ve done your research, even when you pinched yourself not to.

He nods. “Three, actually. Talk about a headache, am I right?”

And it’s almost nostalgic—your laugh. Like it might be one he heard in his past life, but in his current one, can't remember. But it’s okay if he doesn’t because at least he knows he can learn it. And he has.

“You look really pretty when you laugh that way. Insanely so.”

You can’t seem to register his words. The way they come off as soft and ginger as they could possibly get. As if he really means it. And for the first time since your first interaction with him almost two years ago—you sort of believe he might.

“You’re just saying that?” you question as some test, does eyes challenging him into finally spitting out the truth. The same truth you carry. He shakes his head, taking a step closer.

“I mean it.”

Like a sudden magnet, you two are hesitantly connecting closer and closer together before either of you could stop it. Not that either of you would. The Australian towers over you, almost caging you like some endangered species he’s afraid of slipping away and going extinct.

You swallow, lashes fluttering, and he smiles at the sight—melts. You’ve always been reserved. Quiet. Shy. And so has he, so he can’t really judge you, but he’s willing to be different—just once in his life—to get what he’s been wanting for a long time now.

His eyes follow your lips. Admires how plump they are. How they’re the perfect shade of pink. So, when he leans in and you don’t pull away? He thinks he might explode with the need to kiss you. One time. If he’s lucky, just—once.

“You’ve always been my dre—”

“There you two are!” Anastasia cheers, zigzagging to you both as an apologetic Lando follows right after. By now, Oscar has jumped far away from you, and you’re left feeling empty and lost, blinking at an alarming rate. “We’ve been looking all over!” A hiccup. “What were you doing?” Your lips remain open but Oscar is the first to let out an awkward cough.

“We were just talking about…logistics!” He turns to you, sparing you a pleading look. “W-weren’t we?”

You finally come to, nodding slowly, eyes buzzing between the two McLaren drivers and your best friend, who wobbles from left to right. “Yeah, I….we—logistics, and whatnot.” A beat. “Doesn’t matter.”

He flinches, avoiding your doleful stare. Oscar forces such a bright smile—the kind that can’t go unnoticed by even the biggest idiot on earth—and nods in agreement. “She’s right. It doesn’t matter.”

Lando analyzes you, then his teammate, and wishes he had done more to keep Anastasia from barging in. But really, was this some sign? Maybe you were some delusional little girl who truly believed she had a chance with the boy next door. The one everyone wants, but only one will get to have.

And let’s face it.

It was never going to be you.

You’d make an excellent detective in your next life, you’re sure of it. But for now, you’re just some brokenhearted assistant who mourns the death of her what-ifs. Someone who is really good at picking up on clues.

It’s right before Christmas—right before Anastasia’s birthday party—and you’re curling your hair quite poorly. You daze off every now and then, you apply mascara almost zombie-like, and you’re dreading even showing up. Have you been avoiding him? Yes. Yes, you have. Have you been good at it? Only the best, if we’re being truthful here. And were you ready to face him without feeling the need to bolt?

Nope. Not in this lifetime nor the next.

But still, you force yourself to finish getting ready because this isn’t about you. This isn’t about him. It’s about being there for your friend.

Mindlessly, on the drive there, pouting in the back of the yellow cab, you click onto Instagram and the first thing you do is smile at the birthday post Anastasia had posted not even five minutes ago. You scroll, smile wider, and then come to a harsh pause. The kind that makes your throat close up. The kind that makes you stop breathing.

The kind that lets you know—

You’ve lost.

His arms are tied around her waist, his head his nuzzles between her neck, but you can still tell it’s him. His hazel hair can’t go unnoticed. Maybe to someone else, but not you.

Then, as if all odds are against you, your feed refreshes and you’re left far more dumbfounded.

She appears in most of his pictures because why not? It’s his girlfriend's birthday, it goes as expected. Museum dates. Pictures of them with each other's families. And you feel greedy like never before because—why couldn't that be you?

Venmo or cash? You look up, making eye contact with your taxi driver who looks as tired as you are. You press your lips together into a fine line. Digging into your purse, you grab all that you have and jump out of the cab.

It’s chilly out and the lights are beautifully hung, but it doesn’t do you any good. You just want to go home. Curl up in bed and die. Dig a hole—self-suffocate—who cares. And you’re ready to turn around, go back and apologize to Mr. Lennon for not doing better. You really thought you had it in you, but it just wasn’t enough.

But then, the door swings open and Pierre curls a brow. Kika waves from behind “He thought you were some serial killer. He’s been watching too much Dateline.” The brunette scurries over, throwing her arms around you and takes a step back. “Come in before you freeze to death.”

But even that didn’t sound too bad. You sheepishly thank her, following the couple back in. A string of jazz cradles the warm lit living room and the scent of apple pie makes you inhale sharply. A giggle stirs up behind you. Anastasia grins.

“You’re here!”

All of a sudden, you hate her smile. You hate her laugh. You hate her entirely. But you also don’t. You can’t hate her smile. You can’t hate her laugh. You can’t hate her entirely. Because even though you feel like she owes you loyalty, that’s not really true. She had zero idea about your feelings towards Oscar and she won. Fair and square. That doesn’t mean you had to like it.

“Happy birthday, Annie.” Hugging her, you giggle against her ear when she jumps up and down, nearly knocking you two over. “For you. From me.”

She wiggles her neat brows, green eyes buzzing with suspicion. “Is it a vibrator again?”

You blush. “No. Even better.”

“Wow! Even better?” She rips the small bag open, eyes widened double in their size. “Oh my God, you got me the Mary Jane’s I wanted?”

“Well, you kept bugging me, and so I thought—”

“D'accord, je comprends. I love them, thank you.” Grabbing your wrist, she tugged you into the empty hallway, and you can already feel her buzzing with excitement. Your stomach churns. “I wanted to tell you as soon as he asked me out—I really did—but he insisted on keeping it between us two for a while, and I told him no, I had to tell you, but then I understood that maybe it was for the best, and I’ve always liked him—”

Every word makes you feel smaller and smaller because the light in her eyes gives it all away. She, too—much like you—is in love with Oscar Piastri. You shake your head, sharing a light laugh. “I totally get it. There’s no need to explain.”

The green eyed girl visibly relaxes, shoulders rolling back. “I knew you’d understand. Oscar was right—you have a good heart.”

Ana, Yuki just spilled wine on your coach, Daniel rattles from the other side of the room, pointing accusingly towards his teammate who rubs the cushion with his Dior sweatshirt. She sighs. Be right back!

At that moment, you don’t care if you wind up with a deadly case of hypothermia, you simply walk out of the warm house.

“What are you doing? You’re going to get sick.”

Screwing your eyes shut seems to be the only answer to help your mending heart into not breaking completely. And fuck him—fuck him for sounding so goddamn caring.

You turn with a soft smile, shrugging nonchalantly. “Won’t really make a difference, I already feel sick.” You cough for emphasis. “See?” Oscar rolls his eyes, ignoring the poor excuse, and hands you his puffer jacket. You shake your head. Take it. “No.” He frowns. Why not? Rocks crunch with every step he takes. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“What? Borrowing a jacket from a friend?”

“Borrowing my best friend's boyfriend’s jacket.”

His stomach drops, rolling with a wave of anxiety as he tries to not show his uncomfort. “She told you?”

Your teeth grind harder. “That, and you both posted about a thousand pictures together. Wasn’t that difficult to understand what was going on.” A sore laugh. “I’m happy for you two, though. Really. I am.”

“You are?”

Sending a nasty glare that you tried to keep in for the life in you, you turn over to face him, nose rosy. “Yes. Over the fucking moon.”

He flinches. “Listen, about that day at Lando’s house. I-I-I was caught up in the moment. I shouldn’t have said what I said, o-or tried to kiss you—”

“You’re a phony, you know that, right?”

Another flinch. “I’m trying to apologize to you. I’m sorry. I feel bad, okay?”

Tears well up inside your eyes. Somewhere deep inside your chest, you feel a harsh sting, and still that doesn’t compare to his pity. You let out a scoff, crossing your arms. “You feel bad, for what? For messing with my emotions, or for getting with my best friend?” You poke his chest hard, but he remains as still as a brick wall, a pained expression mapped out. “Which one is it?”

“For all of it!” He grabs your face, making you freeze under his fire-like touch. “I loved you—God—I loved every inch of you. Your humor, your heart, your jokes that never land, the awkward giggles that follow afterward—everything. There was not a single thing you could do that could have pushed me away.”

“Then what happened?” you whisper, eyes tracing his pink lips, trying to enjoy his hands. They’re calloused, sure, but they’re by far the closest thing you’ve had, so nothing else matters. His breath hitches, soft eyes looking down at you in complete defeat. You grimace. “Why was I not enough for you to try?”

His hands drop. Brown locks shakes as he rubs his eyes, like this is all some part of a fever dream. Maybe it was. The Australian frowns. “I could ask you the same thing.”

It’s a slap in the face, and it burns like never before because you know he’s right. “I wanted to tell you!” A shaky breath. “I was going to tell you.”

Leaves rustle. “You were?”

“Yes,” you confess, nodding adamantly. “That day at Lando’s place—I wanted to tell you.”

The McLaren driver bites his tongue hard, blinking rapidly. “W-what would you have said?”

“That I loved you too.”

He can’t hide his pain just by hearing those words. He scrunches his nose. He nods robotically. And he keeps his eyes trained towards the ground, like he’s in the middle of solving a puzzle.

“I really did like you. From the moment we met.” Finally, he looks up, round eyes searching for any sign of intimacy. If there’s any left—any you still save for him. “Do you remember the day we first met?”

“A little bit. Yeah.”

A second ticks by. “I do. Remember it all, I mean. Think back to it quite often.” He lets out a boyish grin, crinkles forming, making your heart flutter. “You took my breath away.”

And as if humanly possible, despite the icy air, your cheekbones flush harder as you bite back a giddy smile. “You barely even noticed me—”

“You wore a white ribbon. Hair half up, half down. Denim overalls with your initials sewn onto them. Emerald earrings.” You blink, clearly taken aback by his polished memory. His eyes soften. “I’ll always notice you.”

Anastasia pecks the Australians cheek, giggling after each one. Oscar smiles, letting out a sheepish laugh. From the corner, seated next to Lando, you sigh sadly. The Brit bumps his shoulder up against yours. What’s wrong? But you must not have heard him, or you ignore him, but he, too, has eyes.

“I swear I didn’t know a thing about them,” he whispers. “If I had, I would have warned you, you know that—”

“Lando,” you cut him off, voice weak and mellow. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

He frowns. “I know that, but—”

“It’s not your fault,” you repeat, this time more firm. He swallows, nodding hesitantly. With a soft laugh, you poke his ribs and he’s quick to let out a yelp. “Just want to forget, you know?”

Lando hums. “Understood.”

Anastasia clinks her spoon against her mug. The one you each painted differently in that one pottery class years ago. She grins. “I’m so glad all of you could make it, really, it means a lot.” Her eyes crinkle sweetly towards Oscar who traces shapes down her back. She blushes for him—the same way you do. “I feel like…I finally have everything I ever wanted.”

A string of oohh's echo the room, whistles ringing. She laughs, head falling back, and he lets out a single chuckle, rosy cheeks making everyone grow louder. Meanwhile, you stay silent, focusing on Lando’s shoes. The Brit winces, rubbing your shoulder awkwardly.

Daniel yodels, raising his beer. “Well, in that case, I feel like I do too!” He hiccups, making Pierre and Yuki snicker. “A hot girlfriend, good ‘ol friends, and a nice pair of abs.”

“They are nice,” Lily mumbles, earning her a soft smack from Alex who rolls his eyes.

Carlos cackles. “Me next—um, okay. A good team, my girlfriend, and…and—my hair.”

“Narcissist,” Lando whispers, trying to get a good laugh out of you. And it works. You giggle, muffling the sound with the back of your hand. Oscar perks up, orbs floating over to where you and the Brit whisper to one another, smiles only growing wider. His jaw clenches. Either way, you tune out all the constant chatter after hearing how Pierre was grateful for having a massive cock.

“I really hope nothing changes between us.”

You laugh. “I think it might be a bit too late for that.”

The Australian scratches his shoes against the wet pavement. He agrees. He won’t admit it, but he agrees. Everything has changed. Timidly, he glances over at you, biting the inside of his cheek. His gaze burns—just like always—and you turn to face him.

By now your tears have dried, but your heartbreak still continues. Something deep inside tells you that it’ll continue for as long as you live. You despise yourself for letting any of this get out of hand. For letting your fear of rejection play a big part in losing him. He smiles.

“I love you, okay?”

You smile. “I love you, too.”

Your voice sounds sweet—just like honey. And if it’s a lie, just to make him feel better, then he’s a grateful bloke. He might not have your heart—not completely—and he might not have your hand in his, but he’s fine with that. Because he’s heard all he’s needed to hear. And he can live at peace.

Oscar grins, leaning down to kiss your cheek. It’s tender, just the way you pictured it. You smell like flowers, just like he had dreamt. He pulls away. “You can always talk to me. Whenever. I’ll always be there for you.”

“Thank you. But I won’t bother you too much.” His brows furrow, mouth opening to protest before you wave him off with a tired smile. “Don’t want to vent to you about…well—you.”

“What about you?” Anastasia squeals, making your jump in place.

“What about me?”

She rolls her eyes, theatrically. Oscar remains as still as a statue, enjoying the moment to admire you without having to explain why—all eyes were on you, after all. “Have you ever gotten everything you ever wanted?”

Wistfully, your eyes look up, connecting with the ones you know so well. You admire his boyish features one last time before looking down onto your lap and then focusing on Anastasia.

“No. But I once got very close.”

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mononijikayu · 2 days

Text

triassic love song — gojo satoru.

“They were together until the very end.” you said softly, your voice carried by the gentle wind. “I hope they’re still together, wherever they are.” The tall man took a deep breath, turning his head to look at you. For a moment, his blue gaze seemed distant, as though he were seeing something—or someone—far beyond the present. But then his lips curled into a small, sad smile. “They will be, you know?” he replied quietly, his voice deep and filled with a quiet conviction. “Some loves are strong enough to last forever. They…they transcend, even time.”

GENRE: alternate universe - reincarnation au!;

WARNING/S: edo japan era, nsfw, angst, fluff, romance, hurt/comfort, engagement, hurt, physical touch, implied character death(s), natural disaster(s), mourning, pain, grief, happy ending, depiction of natural disaster(s), depiction of suffering, depiction of character death(s), depiction of violent destruction, depiction of grief, depiction of suffering, mention of implied character death(s), mention of death(s), mention of suffering, mention of destruction, mention of earthquake-related destruction, fiance! gojo, fiance! reader, reincarnated! gojo, reincarnated! reader;

WORD COUNT: 8.6k words

NOTE: this song has ruined me beyond understanding. paris paloma, your album was just insane like im sorry. the fact that she wrote a song about the triassic cuddle inspired me to write something similar and i just??? i can't help myself. ive been so crazy about this song that i just decided, you know what. this is great. this is just something i would in fact like to bawl my eyes out writing. and i did. i did that. and i hope you cry with me and enjoy it. anyway, i love you all so much <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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IT WAS ENJOYABLE TO BE TOGETHER. IIt was forbidden to be together at this time, with the curfew in place, but you couldn’t help yourself. Not when it came to him. The world outside was still, bound by rules meant to keep order, but within the quiet sanctuary of your family estate, the constraints of the outside world seemed distant and unimportant. Inside, warmth and anticipation filled the air, thick as the lingering scent of incense that wafted through the halls. The soft glow of lanterns bathed the room in a warm light, casting shadows across the delicate shoji screens, and reflecting off the polished wooden beams and traditional tatami mats beneath you.

Gojo Satoru sat beside you, his presence magnetic as always, but tonight, something was different. His signature smirk still played at the corners of his lips, and his bright, sparkling eyes glimmered with mischief. But beneath that playfulness was an undeniable depth, a new layer of emotion that wasn’t there before—an unspoken excitement, a shared understanding that you were no longer just childhood friends.

You were now betrothed.

Bound by the ties of engagement that your noble families had arranged, it felt as though a long-awaited dream had finally come true. And though you had known each other all your lives, this new bond between you carried a weight of its own, something that made your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected. The happiness you felt was undeniable, shared in the way Satoru’s hand occasionally brushed against yours, in the subtle glances that said everything words couldn’t.

“You’re quieter than usual, don't you think?" Satoru remarked with a teasing lilt, his voice soft but carrying an undercurrent of something more serious. He leaned in slightly, his gaze locking onto yours, as if daring you to speak first.

You smiled, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks under his intense scrutiny. “I could say the same about you, hm?” you replied, trying to match his teasing tone, though your voice betrayed the flurry of emotions swirling within you.

Satoru chuckled softly, leaning back on his hands, eyes never leaving yours. “Well, it’s not every day you get engaged to your best friend!” he said, his tone light, but his expression softened as his usual bravado gave way to sincerity.

That sincerity took your breath away, and for a moment, the reality of the moment hit you fully. You weren’t just sneaking out to spend time with him as you had countless times before. This was different. This was a promise, one sealed by the love you’d always shared but never fully acknowledged until now.

“I’ve been waiting for this, you know?” you admitted quietly, your eyes meeting his. “For us to be more than just... childhood friends.”

Satoru’s playful demeanor softened even more, a rare seriousness taking over his expression as he reached out to take your hand in his. His fingers were warm, and the simple gesture sent a shiver down your spine.

“Me too.” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “For a long time.”

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. The world outside was still and silent, but inside this room, the air seemed alive with the energy between you. The gravity of the situation settled in—this wasn’t just a fleeting moment. It was the beginning of something much bigger, something that both excited and terrified you.

“You always did like breaking the rules.” you teased lightly, trying to ease the tension, though your heart pounded in your chest. “Staying out past curfew, sneaking into my room like this...”

Satoru grinned, his usual confidence returning. “I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t, right?” he quipped, though the softness in his gaze lingered. “Besides, how could I stay away from you tonight? Our first night as an engaged couple... I had to be here.”

You laughed, but it was a soft, breathless sound, the kind that came when words failed to fully capture the emotions coursing through you. “I’m glad you’re here, Satoru.” you whispered.

He smiled, that warm, heart-melting smile that was reserved just for you, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else in the world mattered. Not the rules, not the expectations placed on you by your families, not even the looming responsibilities of your engagement. It was just you and him, sharing a quiet, intimate moment that you knew you would cherish forever.

“I brought something for you.” Satoru said after a brief pause, reaching into his sleeve and pulling out a small bundle of paper. “I wrote these for you.”

You blinked in surprise, watching as he carefully unfolded the papers. “Poems?”

He nodded, the tiniest hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks, something you rarely saw from him. “Yeah, don’t laugh!” he added quickly, though the look in his eyes told you he trusted you completely. “I’ve been working on them for a while...”

You took the papers from him, your fingers brushing his as you did. The sheets were neatly folded, each one carefully written in his distinct handwriting. It touched you deeply to know that he had taken the time to craft these for you, that he had poured his heart into something so personal. Something for you, with all his love.

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I could never laugh, my dearest.” you said softly, your voice sincere. “Thank you, Satoru.”

"I made these for you, my beloved." he whispered, pulling out one of the carefully folded parchment from your grasp and unfolded it. "Listen to me, alright?"

His slender fingers traced the delicate paper before he began to read softly, his voice like a gentle breeze:

"Beneath the cherry bloom, I wait

for you, a light that never fades.

In silence, your name takes root in my soul—

a promise written long before time."

His tender words wove into your heart, each syllable filled with the love he had always held for you, now finally given shape. You leaned against him, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours, comforted by the sound of his heartbeat that matched your own excitement. The future felt certain, and the night was perfect. You kept listening to his voice, letting it guide you into the tender slumber of the night.

Satoru leaned closer to you, watching your expression, his bright blue eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and affection. Your orbs gazed at the tender strokes of his writing.

His calligraphy had always been so beautiful, but to form such words in order to capture not just the feelings he had for you, it was even more beautiful. And to have him read it with such affection, such love — for you and only you…..what could be more beautiful? What could be more perfect, more delightful?

But then, the ground beneath you shifted, a low rumble reverberating through the tatami mats. At first, it was subtle, almost imperceptible, but within seconds, the shaking intensified. It was subtle at first, a low rumble that made the lanterns flicker.

Satoru paused, his brow furrowing. Before you could ask, the ground shook violently, and the delicate house groaned under the pressure. Screams erupted from other rooms, echoing through the halls as the tremor grew stronger.

"Satoru?" you whispered, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest, not from love, but from fear.

He was already moving, his hand gripping yours tightly. “Stay with me, my beloved.” he commanded, his voice steady, though his eyes flashed with a seriousness you had never seen before. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The room shuddered violently as the earthquake hit full force, and you could hear the distant crashing of objects falling in other parts of the house. Screams erupted outside even louder—voices of your family, the servants, all caught in the chaos of the sudden disaster. And then all the sudden, it was eerily quiet. And that made your heart drop to your stomach

For a moment, you thought that it would finally be over. But then, the earth beneath you trembled once more. You squealed as Satoru let his body encompass your own with the enveloping of his whole body on yours as the world crashed against you both. The walls were swaying left and right, the roof tiles were shattering one after another. It was chaos.

"Hold on to me. Don’t lift your eyes." he said, his voice calm but firm, even as the world quaked around you. “I’ll protect you.”

You clung to him, your heart pounding in fear as the floor shifted beneath your feet. His grip was unyielding, pulling you closer until there was no space between your bodies, shielding you from falling debris as the shaking intensified.

“I’ve got you, my beloved.” he murmured into your hair, his voice steady despite the chaos around you. “D–don’t worry.”

You feared when he stuttered, that he had gotten hurt. But he did not falter. His fingers gently stroked your back, trying to calm your trembling as the earthquake raged on. You could hear the distant crashing of porcelain and wood, your ears ringing from the harsh sounds of the destruction. But in his arms, you felt an odd sense of safety amidst the destruction. Because it was your Satoru holding you, protecting you. Because you’re together.

As the tremors finally subsided, Satoru’s grip on you loosened slightly, but he didn’t let go. His breath was shaky, and when you looked up at him, you saw a rare flicker of fear in his usually carefree eyes. He swallowed hard before giving you a small, reassuring smile. You were still stunned, your head shaking as you tried to make sense of the world.

"Seems like the earth itself wanted to remind us of its power." he joked softly, though the tension in his voice betrayed him. He was just as afraid, perhaps even pained by some injury he would never show you. “We’re….we’re alright, my beloved. Don’t worry.”

You let out a breathless laugh, still clutching his robes as you pressed your forehead against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The night was no longer perfect, but in that moment, with Satoru holding you close, it felt like nothing could tear the two of you apart—not even the earth itself.

The earth, which had momentarily stilled, seemed to shift again beneath you, this time more violently.More catastrophic, more angry and volatile. You screamed as you held tightly to him, his body wrapping itself against you once more. The walls of your room groaned, beams creaking as the tremors returned with a vengeance, fiercer than before. The floor shook so hard you could barely keep your balance, even in Satoru's arms.

He pulled you even tighter against him, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “Stay with me. Don’t let go.”

You could feel his muscles tensing beneath his robes, his usually easy going demeanor replaced by something more protective, almost desperate as his entire body forced itself to become a shield against anything against you. What remained standing of your ancestral home rattled more easily around you, dust falling from the ceiling in thick clouds. Outside, the screams grew louder, more frantic as the destruction worsened. Perhaps, it wasn’t even your family any longer. Perhaps it was the town, perhaps it was a neighboring village. You do not know anymore. And that’s what frightened you even more.

You could hear the unmistakable crash of something heavy—perhaps a roof beam—collapsing nearby. Suddenly, a deafening crack split the air. The wide, elaborate shoji doors rattled on their frames before they were blown open by the force of the quake. Your own room felt like it was being torn apart piece by piece. One of the wooden beams above groaned under the strain and, without warning, splintered and fell, hurtling toward the two of you.

Your beloved Gojo Satoru reacted in an instant, pushing you down and covering you with his body just as the beam crashed into the floor where you’d been trying to stand. The air was thick with dust, and the scent of earth and shattered wood filled your lungs, choking you. You shook as your eyes slowly opened to see your fiance pinning you down with his body shielding you.

“Satoru!” you gasped, your hands gripping the front of his robe, desperate to make sure he was unharmed.

“I’m fine, my beloved.” he muttered, though you could hear the strain in his voice. His arm was still braced above you, shielding you from any further debris. His other hand cupped the back of your head, pressing you into the crook of his neck. “We need to move. The house isn’t going to hold.”

You nodded against him, heart pounding in terror. Everything felt surreal, like a nightmare you couldn’t wake from. The childhood home that had always felt so safe, so untouchable, was crumbling around you, and the only solid thing left was Satoru. He was all you had, you think. Everything…Everything was gone. Your body was shaking.

He pulled you to your feet, guiding you toward the door, but just as you reached it, another powerful tremor sent the ground pitching beneath you. You fell forward, and Satoru caught you, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close as the floor buckled and cracked beneath your feet. You could feel the splintering wood beneath your sandals, the whole structure of the house breaking apart beneath the relentless force of the earthquake.

“Satoru, we need to get out—” you started, but your voice was drowned out by the sound of another beam collapsing behind you, followed by a sickening crash from outside the room.

“I know, I know.” he said, his voice tight with focus as he scanned the surroundings. "We’ll find a way out. I promise."

He led you toward the door again, but just as you stepped forward, the entire room seemed to tilt. The floor caved in with a horrific crack, and suddenly, you were falling. Satoru’s grip tightened as you both plummeted into darkness, the floorboards and debris collapsing into the space below.

“Are you hurt?” Satoru’s voice cut through the chaos, his hand cupping your face gently as he pulled you close, checking for injuries in the dim light. His fingers trembled slightly, betraying the fear he usually kept hidden so well.

“I’m okay,” you gasped, though your body felt battered and sore.

He exhaled in relief, his forehead pressing against yours for a moment, his breath shaky. “We need to get out of here. Stay close to me.”

Even now, with the world collapsing around you, his determination didn’t waver. He pulled you to your feet once more, and together, you began to make your way through the rubble. The house was a maze of fallen beams, shattered walls, and debris, the once-beautiful estate reduced to ruins in a matter of minutes.

The aftershocks still rumbled beneath your feet, making every step treacherous, but Satoru kept you steady, his arm around your waist, guiding you through the wreckage. The air was thick with dust, and the distant screams of those outside continued, filling you with dread for what might await you once you escaped.

As you neared what used to be the outer courtyard, the quake hit again, this time more violent than any before. The very ground seemed to split open beneath you, and with a loud, earth-shattering roar, the outer wall of the estate gave way. You barely had time to scream before the floor cracked beneath your feet, and you fell into darkness once more.

This time, Satoru’s grip on you tightened, and you felt his body pull you against him, sheltering you as the ground gave way entirely. You hit the ground hard, the pain radiating through your body, but before you could react, you felt the warmth of Satoru’s arms around you, shielding you from the worst of it.

“Don’t leave me.” he whispered, his voice trembling as he held you tighter than ever. “I won’t let anything take you from me—not this, not anything.”

In that moment, as the world continued to crumble around you, his words were the only thing that kept you grounded. No matter what happened next, as long as you were with him, there was still hope. You clung to him, your fingers digging into the fabric of his robes, as the tremors finally began to subside, leaving the two of you alone in the wreckage, but together.

You landed hard, the wind knocked out of you as your back hit the ground. The tatami beneath you was torn, and debris scattered everywhere, yet Satoru still held onto you, his arms wrapped tightly around your body, as though his grip alone could shield you from the crumbling world. The force of his embrace had absorbed much of the fall, but the impact still left you breathless. For a moment, everything was a blur—dust and darkness clouded your vision, and the deafening roar of collapsing beams filled the air.

Your body throbbed with pain, and panic surged in your chest, but even through the chaos, the warmth of Satoru’s body against yours anchored you. His presence, solid and unyielding, kept you grounded in the midst of the chaos.

"Satoru..." you gasped, your voice barely audible, but he heard you.

“I’m here,” he whispered fiercely, his voice steady despite the tremors still shaking the earth beneath you. His breath was ragged, but his grip on you didn’t falter. His white hair, now disheveled and covered in dust, clung to his forehead, but his eyes—those impossibly blue eyes—remained focused on you. “Are you hurt?”

You tried to shake your head, but your mind was still reeling, struggling to catch up with what had just happened. The earthquake raged on, though the initial violence of it had passed. The ground trembled beneath you like a sleeping beast disturbed from its rest.

Satoru shifted, pulling you up as carefully as he could. The house around you was nearly unrecognizable—wooden beams had collapsed, shoji screens were shredded, and parts of the roof had caved in. The once peaceful and warm room where you had shared your engagement was now in ruins, littered with broken objects and torn memories.

The sound of screams echoed from outside, faint but piercing. Servants. Family. It was hard to tell who, but the urgency in their voices cut through the haze of shock that clouded your mind. Your breath caught in your throat, panic gripping you once more.

“My family... my parents.” you muttered, scrambling to get up, but Satoru stopped you, his hand on your shoulder, firm yet gentle. “Satoru—”

"Wait," he said softly, though his voice carried the weight of authority. "We need to get out of here first. It’s not safe."

He tried to keep you calm, his steady hands guiding you through the debris, but you could see the tension in his posture. He was on high alert, his senses sharp as he glanced at every unstable beam, every shifting pile of rubble. He was scanning for danger, but more than that, he was trying to protect you from seeing the worst of it—the destruction, the death.

But as you stumbled through the wreckage of what had once been your home, you couldn’t avoid the horrors that surrounded you. Bodies. Littered through the halls, some crushed beneath fallen beams, others lying still in the open. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the world spun around you.

"Satoru..." you whispered, your voice trembling as you pulled away from his protective hold. "Where are they? My parents... my siblings?"

He didn’t answer immediately, his eyes darting around, trying to keep you moving forward, away from the bodies, away from the worst of it. But you knew. The silence was louder than any scream. You could feel tears fall from your face and that broke his heart to see.

"Satoru!" you cried, your voice breaking as your legs buckled beneath you. "Where are they?"

He knelt beside you, his hands cupping your face as he gently forced you to look at him. His bright blue eyes were filled with an overwhelming sadness, but he tried to hide it, to be strong for you. He had to be strong. He had to. He can’t be weak, not right now.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But we have to go. We need to find shelter. I’ll take you to my family home. They’ll know what to do.”

You nodded, though the words didn’t fully sink in. Your body was moving on autopilot now, your mind numb to the world as Satoru pulled you back to your feet. With every step, the destruction around you became more apparent, more real. The walls were crumbling, the air thick with dust and smoke, and the scent of burning wood filled your nostrils.

Together, you navigated the ruins of your estate, stepping over debris and through the remains of lives that had been lost in the quake. GojoSatoru kept a firm grip on your hand, leading you with a determination that seemed almost impossible given the circumstances.

But even he couldn’t hide the way his shoulders tensed, the way his jaw clenched when another body appeared in your path, forcing him to shield you from the sight.

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IT WAS A CHALLENGE, TO GO AND LEAVE THE DESTRUCTION BEHIND. The sky deepened into a somber shade of dusk as you and Satoru finally reached the estate’s edge. The once proud gates, symbols of security and honor, now stood twisted and mangled, crumpled by the sheer force of nature’s wrath.

Beyond the gates, the town stretched out in a nightmare of ruin—buildings reduced to heaps of rubble, streets fractured and littered with debris, and the air thick with the lingering scent of smoke and dust. The cries of the wounded and the wails of those searching for lost loved ones echoed through the broken streets, a chorus of despair that filled the silence left in the wake of destruction.

“Keep your head high,” Satoru urged, his voice low but firm as he tightened his grip on your hand. “Don’t look. Just… don’t.”

But it was impossible not to look. How could you not see the devastation, shared by all? Every corner of the town had been touched by this catastrophe, and every person who remained alive carried the weight of loss. It was a destruction understood by all, but none more deeply than you at that moment.

The memory of your home—once filled with laughter, warmth, and the presence of family—now lay in ruins. Your parents, your siblings… their fates were unknown, swallowed by the chaos. You hadn’t seen them, and the hope of finding them alive was growing fainter with every passing moment. Satoru’s words rang hollow in your ears, even as you clung to his hand for strength.

He guided you through the crumbling streets with a fierce determination, always positioning himself between you and the worst of the wreckage. The buildings, once grand and vibrant, had become tombs of stone and wood, each step revealing more of the town’s shattered soul. Bodies lay strewn across the ground, some half-buried in rubble, others left untouched by the debris but claimed by the quake nonetheless. It was too much, too overwhelming.

Every time you stumbled, your legs trembling with fatigue and grief, Satoru was there, catching you before you could fall. His presence was like an anchor, keeping you steady amid the storm of devastation that swirled around you. His hand never left yours, his touch a silent promise that you weren’t alone in this. You didn’t have to face it all by yourself.

The survivors—those who had managed to escape the collapse of buildings or who had emerged from the wreckage—followed behind you, a somber procession of hollow eyes and ashen faces. Their steps were slow, heavy with the weight of shock. No words passed between them, no cries for help—only silence and the occasional sob as they moved like ghosts through the streets, trying to find some semblance of safety, of life, in this broken world.

Your heart ached for them, for their pain, but your own grief consumed you. The memory of your family’s voices, the warmth of your home, felt so distant now, like a dream you had just woken from. And yet, with each step you took beside Satoru, you realized that this nightmare was real, and there was no waking from it.

The earth beneath your feet still trembled occasionally, aftershocks reminding you that the worst might not yet be over. Each tremor sent a fresh wave of fear through your body, your grip tightening around Satoru’s hand. He responded in kind, his hand strong and reassuring, though you could sense the turmoil roiling beneath his calm exterior. His family, too, was somewhere in this mess. Their fate hung in the balance just as much as yours.

As you made your way through the gates, leaving behind the wreckage of your estate, you couldn’t help but glance back one final time. The place where you had grown up, where you had shared laughter, joy, and the news of your engagement just hours ago, was now unrecognizable. In the span of mere moments, everything you had known had been reduced to rubble, leaving behind only echoes of the life you had once cherished.

“Satoru…” your voice cracked as you spoke his name, the words barely audible over the distant cries. He stopped, turning to look at you, his eyes softening with concern.

“I know,” he whispered, his hand brushing against your cheek, wiping away the tears that had begun to fall unnoticed. “I know it’s hard. But we’ll make it through this. We have to.”

His resolve was unshakable, but you could see the grief hidden behind his determination. He was trying to be strong, not just for himself, but for you. His family’s estate lay ahead, yet you both feared what you would find when you arrived.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the land in shadow, you continued onward, the fire of Satoru’s presence the only thing keeping you from sinking into despair. The path was treacherous, littered with fallen beams and shattered stone, but Satoru led the way with careful, deliberate steps. He kept you close, his arm around your waist now, guiding you over the broken streets as you navigated what felt like the remains of the world.

Every glance revealed more heartache—broken homes, toppled lanterns, and the pale, lifeless faces of those who hadn’t made it. But Satoru never let you linger, gently urging you forward each time your gaze began to drift toward the horror around you.

Finally, you reached his family’s estate. Or what remained of it. The grand structure that had once stood proud and formidable was now a heap of collapsed roofs and shattered walls. The once beautiful garden, where you had shared many moments of happiness, was now a twisted, chaotic mess of uprooted trees and scorched earth.

Satoru stood still for a moment, his eyes scanning the destruction with a silent, composed fury. The pain was etched into his expression, though he quickly masked it as he turned to you, his voice low but firm.

"We’ll make it through tonight," he said. "We have to survive, no matter what."

In that moment, even as the world crumbled around you, there was no fear in his eyes—only determination. For now, all you could do was follow him. Follow him through the darkness, trusting that somewhere, beyond the destruction, hope still lingered.

As you finally reached the outskirts of the Gojo estate, the enormity of the destruction hit you again. The town below had not been spared either. Smoke rose in the distance, and the ground was littered with rubble, buildings half-collapsed, and people wandering aimlessly, searching for loved ones.

Satoru didn’t hesitate. He pulled you forward, his grip never loosening as he led you through the streets toward his family’s home. But when you arrived, the sight that greeted you was even more devastating.

His family estate, much like your own, had been reduced to little more than a broken shell. The grand gates had collapsed, and the once beautiful gardens were torn apart, now little more than mounds of earth and stone. The house itself had fared no better, with parts of the roof caved in and walls shattered.

Satoru’s face paled as he took it all in, his hand tightening around yours in a desperate attempt to remain calm. But you could see it in his eyes—the grief, the disbelief. This was his home. His family. And now, it is gone.

For a long moment, he stood still, his gaze fixed on the destruction before him. His breathing was shallow, his grip on your hand tightening almost painfully. But then, with a sharp breath, he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

As you both began your journey toward the Gojo family estate, the weight of the day settled heavily on your shoulders. But Satoru’s hand never let go of yours, a silent promise that even in the face of unimaginable loss, you would survive this—together.

When you and Satoru finally reached the outskirts of his family estate, the sinking feeling in your chest returned with full force. What should have been a place of refuge, a sanctuary from the horrors you had just fled, was nothing but devastation. The Gojo estate, once majestic and proud, had fallen to the same fate as your home.

The gates were twisted and mangled, barely hanging from their hinges, and the walls that had once stood tall now lay in heaps of rubble. Smoke rose from what remained of the manor, a bitter scent of burning wood and stone hanging in the air. The destruction was so complete, so absolute, that it felt like the very earth had swallowed everything whole. The silence was deafening.

Gojo Satoru froze at the sight, his grip on your hand tightening until it almost hurt. You looked up at him, but his expression was unreadable, his usual brightness dulled to a vacant stare. His family, his home....everything he had known, everything he had grown up with. All was gone. Nothing was left but the earth where it all once stood.

You tried to say something, to offer words of comfort, but the lump in your throat made it impossible to speak. More tears could only pour out of your eyes from then on. All you could do was squeeze his hand, hoping he would feel your silent support. He didn't need to hear your words right now; he just needed to know you were there.

For a moment, he stood motionless, his blue eyes scanning the destruction as if trying to comprehend it, trying to find any sign of life among the wreckage. But there was nothing. Just like at your estate, the earthquake had consumed everything.

Finally, Satoru exhaled a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. But even in his grief, he didn’t break. He couldn’t—not with you depending on him. He glanced down at you, his eyes softening with a kind of sadness you had never seen in him before.

Satoru stopped for a moment, turning to you with a look of determination in his eyes. “We’ll make it through this,” he promised, his voice steady, though his eyes betrayed the fear he was trying so hard to hide. “We’ll get some place safe here, and I’ll make sure nothing ever hurts you again. You hear me?”

You nodded, though the world felt unsteady beneath you. The future that once seemed so bright, the engagement that had filled your heart with hope, now felt overshadowed by the tragedy that had befallen your lives. Still, with Satoru’s hand wrapped securely around yours, you knew one thing for certain—no matter what came next, you wouldn’t face it alone.

“We need to stay warm tonight.” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not safe to wander around in the dark. We’ll make a fire here, and then tomorrow, we’ll figure out what to do.”

He led you to a relatively clear patch of ground, away from the worst of the rubble. The sky was darkening, and the air had grown cold, a biting wind cutting through your torn clothes. Satoru quickly set to work, gathering what dry wood he could find, his movements steady and focused despite the grief that must have been tearing him apart inside.

You watched him in silence, too exhausted to help, too numb from everything that had happened. When the fire finally sparked to life, its warmth was a welcome reprieve from the cold that had settled deep into your bones. You sat beside him, huddled close to the flickering flames, the only source of light in the endless night.

Your Satoru didn’t speak for a long time. He simply stared into the fire, his expression distant, lost in thoughts you couldn’t fathom. His hands, usually so relaxed and playful, were tense, gripping his knees as if he were holding himself together by sheer force of will.

But then he turned to you, his gaze softening when he saw the exhaustion written on your face. Without a word, he pulled his outer robe from his shoulders and wrapped it around you, tucking it gently against your chin. He tried to do it, smiling like nothing happened. As though to comfort you even in all this suffering. And yet, you could see it all in his eyes. He was exhausted, he was in pain. And he didn’t know what to do.

“Sleep, my beloved.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll keep watch.”

You wanted to protest, to tell him that he needed rest just as much as you did, but your body betrayed you. The exhaustion, the grief, the sheer weight of everything you had been through—it was too much. You nodded weakly, laying your head against his shoulder as you curled into the warmth of the robe.

Satoru shifted slightly, easing you into a more comfortable position so you could lie down near the fire. His hand rested on your arm, a protective gesture that reminded you of his earlier promise. Even as the world fell apart around you, Satoru Gojo was still there, watching over you.

As you drifted off to sleep, lulled by the crackling of the fire and the steady rise and fall of his breathing, Satoru leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. His lips lingered there for a moment, as if he were afraid to pull away, afraid that something might take you from him if he let go.

“I’ll keep you safe, my beloved.” he whispered against your hair, his voice trembling with the weight of his vow. “No matter what happens. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

The fire flickered, casting shadows across his face, but his resolve was unshakable. He couldn’t save everything—his home, his family—but he would save you. That much, he was certain of.

As you slept, Gojo Satoru remained awake, his eyes scanning the horizon, alert for any sign of danger. The devastation around him was complete, but his focus never wavered from you. You were his world now, the one thing he had left in the midst of the ruin.

The night stretched on, cold and unforgiving, but Satoru didn’t move from his spot by your side. Even as the grief gnawed at him, even as the weight of everything he had lost threatened to crush him, he stayed strong. For you. Because no matter what came next, no matter how uncertain the future had become, Gojo Satoru had made a promise—and he would keep it.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

THE YEAR 2018 WAS AN INTERESTING YEAR FOR DISCOVERIES. You remember reading about it in the newspaper on your way to university—the discovery of two lovers found in an eternal embrace, huddled together in a shoreline cave, their bodies preserved for three hundred years by the elements that had claimed their lives.

The volcanic eruption, the earthquake, and the tsunami that had ravaged Japan centuries ago were some of the worst disasters the country had ever known, obliterating entire villages and swallowing countless lives in an instant. And yet, even in the face of such unimaginable destruction, these two had remained together, their bond undisturbed by the passage of time.

Standing quietly in front of the memorial, you felt the weight of their story settle around you. The air was still and somber, carrying with it the distant hum of waves crashing along the shore. The stone monument before you was simple yet profound—a silent marker of the love these two souls had shared, a love that had endured in the most unimaginable of circumstances. Their bodies had been found in the ruins of a household long buried by the mud and debris, a household much like the ones surrounding this coastline, now reduced to scattered memories.

You had followed the story from the beginning—the day the archaeologists uncovered them from the earth, the painstaking care they took in revealing the remains. The headlines had drawn attention, not because of the tragedy alone, but because of the story those two bodies told.

There were no names. No clues as to who they had been, what their lives had looked like before the disaster struck, or even how they had ended up in each other’s arms when the end came. But it didn’t matter. Their identities weren’t needed to understand the significance of what had been found. What mattered was that they had faced their final moments without fear. They had faced the end together, with love.

It was that thought—the resilience of love in the face of overwhelming disaster—that had touched you most deeply. In a world where so much is fragile and fleeting, the strength of their connection had remained, even after centuries had passed. It was as if their love had transcended the destruction, as if they had chosen to defy the disaster by holding on to one another in their last breath.

You stepped forward, placing your hands together in silent prayer. You wished them peace, a kind of peace that transcended the tragedy of their death, that honored the love they had shared.

You prayed that their spirits had found rest, and that wherever they were now, they were still together, watching over the place where they had once stood. The offering you placed at the memorial was simple, a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, symbolizing purity and remembrance.

"I pray that you'll always be together, the two of you." you murmured, your voice soft, barely louder than the breeze that rustled through the trees around the monument. "Wherever you are, I hope you’ve found peace, and that your love is still as strong as it was in those last moments."

You stayed there for a while, the silence of the memorial surrounding you, offering its quiet comfort. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the scene, a contrast to the deep sense of loss the place carried. But you didn’t feel sadness. Instead, there was something almost beautiful about it—knowing that even in the face of disaster, these two had been together, and their love had transcended time. As you prepared to leave, footsteps approached from behind. You turned slightly, curious to see who else had come to visit this quiet, forgotten place.

A man with striking white hair and bright blue eyes under the rim of his glasses stood at the edge of the memorial, his head bowed in silent prayer. He was tall, his presence commanding even though he moved with a quiet grace. His features were sharp, but softened by a kind of deep, unspoken sorrow. He knelt down beside the monument, laying a single white flower on the stone, his fingers brushing the surface with reverence.

You watched him for a moment, feeling an inexplicable sense of familiarity, though you couldn’t quite place it. The way he stood there—tall and composed, with an air of quiet reverence that just seemed to draw you in.

There was something almost ethereal about him, as if he was intrinsically linked to the story of the lovers you had come to honor. The connection felt deeper than mere coincidence, as though his presence was a significant part of the narrative that had touched you so profoundly.

His white hair glowed softly in the fading light, and his posture was relaxed yet dignified, embodying a calmness that contrasted sharply with the turmoil you had felt as you reflected on the lovers’ fate.

His eyes were closed in prayer, his face serene, as if he was offering a deeply personal tribute to the souls who had been found together in their final moments. The sense of connection was so strong that you could almost feel it emanating from him, a silent bridge spanning the centuries between his presence and the lovers' tragic end.

You hesitated, not wanting to intrude on his moment of solitude. Yet, there was something compelling about the situation—an unspoken invitation to acknowledge the shared significance of this place and the story that bound them all together. Your curiosity and empathy drove you to speak, despite the quietude that hung between you.

“Excuse me.” you began softly, breaking the stillness of the memorial. Your voice was gentle, barely a whisper against the backdrop of the crashing waves. “I couldn’t help but notice… There's something about you that feels so familiar, so connected to this place. I… I’ve been deeply moved by the story of the lovers found here, and I can’t shake the feeling that you share a connection with them.”

The man turned toward you, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of surprise and understanding. He seemed to consider your words for a moment, his expression thoughtful and measured. There was a softness in his gaze, as if he had been waiting for this moment, this conversation, even if he didn’t quite know why.

“Oh.” Gojo Satoru whispered back, his cheeks tinged with a flush of surprise, as if your words had caught him off guard. He seemed momentarily at a loss, his usual confidence replaced with a bashful vulnerability. “Yeah, I… I saw the news, and I thought, I just had to come. It felt… it just felt right, you know? To come here and see them off, to wish them well.”

There was a sincerity in his voice, a raw honesty that struck a chord. You could see that this wasn’t just a casual visit for him; it was something deeply personal, a moment of reflection and respect that went beyond mere curiosity.

“I see…” you mumbled, your gaze softening as you looked at him. A smile slowly spread across your face, touched by his heartfelt gesture. “That’s kind of you to do.”

Gojo Satoru shook his head slightly, a rueful smile on his lips. “Ah, not… not really,” he said with a sigh, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “If anything, I think you were more kind. You brought them white chrysanthemums and everything. You probably had more of a proper prayer for them than I did.”

You waved off his comment with a small laugh, the sound light and airy in the quiet of the memorial. “Oh, not at all. I think… I think your intention was purer than mine. You came here just on a feeling, an instinct that something was right about being here. I was… I was interested historically before I was here emotionally, you know?”

His eyes met yours, a flicker of understanding passing between you. “I guess we both had our reasons,” he said softly. “But in the end, it’s the connection that matters. Whether we came here out of personal feelings or historical interest, it’s our respect and acknowledgement that count.”

You nodded, feeling a shared sense of purpose in your conversation. There was something profoundly meaningful about how your paths had crossed at this place, driven by a mutual respect for the story of the lovers and a desire to honor their memory. The distinction between your reasons for being here seemed to dissolve in the face of a greater truth—that both of you were here because of a deep-seated respect and a wish to pay tribute to the enduring power of love.

“So……” Gojo continued, a slight smile returning to his lips, “I’m glad we met here. It feels like the right place for this kind of encounter, don’t you think?”

You agreed, feeling a warmth in his words. “Yes, it does. It’s like the universe brought us together in this moment to remind us of something important.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, something like that. It’s nice to know that even after so much time, and despite all the changes and challenges we face, there are still moments that can bring people together in such a profound way.”

You stood together in silence for a moment, the weight of your shared understanding settling around you. The memorial continued to stand as homage to the lovers’ eternal bond, and in that quiet, sacred space, you felt a connection that transcended all the limits given by the bountiful universe.

“They were together until the very end.” you said softly, your voice carried by the gentle wind. “I hope they’re still together, wherever they are.”

The tall man took a deep breath, turning his head to look at you. For a moment, his blue gaze seemed distant, as though he were seeing something—or someone—far beyond the present. But then his lips curled into a small, sad smile.

“They will be, you know?” he replied quietly, his voice deep and filled with a quiet conviction. “Some loves are strong enough to last forever. They…they transcend, even time.”

There was something in his tone, a weight to his words, that made you wonder if he was speaking from experience. You gave him a respectful nod, choosing not to pry into the emotions that seemed to flicker beneath his calm exterior.

The two of you stood there in silence for a while longer, both paying your respects to the nameless lovers who had defied death with their love. The sun continued to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the memorial. Finally, the man rose to his feet, brushing the dust from his clothes before turning to you.

“Take care, stranger.” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that contrasted with the sorrow that had lingered moments before. Then, with one last look at the monument, he began to walk away, his white hair catching the fading light like a beacon.

As you watched him go, something tugged at your heart. You didn’t know who he was, but in that moment, you felt as though you had shared something important with him—an unspoken understanding of love and loss, of holding on to someone even when the world falls apart around you.

Somehow, there was something stirring within you—a feeling that you couldn’t let him just walk away, not without knowing more. There was something about him, an invisible thread connecting you, as if fate had brought you both to this quiet place for a reason.

"Wait! Hey, mister!" you called out softly, taking a few steps toward him. The man paused, turning back to face you, his expression curious but calm.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. But then, with a gentle smile, you extended your hand. "I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself. My name is……"

He looked at you for a moment, as if weighing whether to reciprocate. Then, with a small, almost teasing smile, he took your hand in his. His grip was warm, steady, and comforting in a way that felt strangely familiar.

"I'm Gojo Satoru." he said, his voice smooth, yet laced with something deeper, as if his name carried a history he didn’t fully reveal.

The name hung in the air between you, and for a brief moment, you felt a flicker of recognition. But it was fleeting, gone as quickly as it had come. You smiled politely, though something about the way he said it, the way his gaze softened as he looked at you, made you feel like there was more to his introduction than simple formality.

"It's nice to meet you, Satoru." you replied, feeling a strange sense of ease as you spoke his name. There was something about the way it rolled off your tongue, as if you'd said it a thousand times before.

He tilted his head slightly, his sharp, crystal-blue eyes studying you with an intensity that was both disarming and oddly reassuring. It was as if he could see beneath the surface, understanding more than what was immediately apparent. Yet, instead of feeling exposed, you felt a sense of comfort, a silent acknowledgment that he grasped the depths of your emotions and thoughts.

With a gentle, almost shy smile, Gojo Satoru reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, extending it toward you. “Put your number in,” he said, his voice tender and inviting. “I think… I think you know more about this story than I do. I’d like to know more, if you’re willing to share.”

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the request, but the sincerity in his voice and the warmth of his smile compelled you to act. With a nod, you took his phone from him and began to enter your contact information, a small flutter of excitement rising in your chest. There was something intriguing about the prospect of continuing this conversation, of sharing more about the story that had brought you both here.

When you handed his phone back to him, a playful grin appeared on your face. “It’s your turn,” you said, taking out your own phone and extending it toward him.

Gojo Satoru chuckled softly, his eyes lighting up with amusement as he looked at your phone. “Well, alright.” he said, taking it with a mock sigh of resignation. “If you insist.”

As he entered his number into your phone, the atmosphere between you shifted from one of solemn reflection to one of friendly connection. The small act of exchanging numbers felt like a bridge, linking your shared experience at the memorial with the potential for future conversations and deeper understanding. Maybe, just maybe — you’ll understand life the way these two in front of you did. Just maybe.

When he handed your phone back to you, he looked at you with a genuine smile. “Thanks for sharing this moment with me. It’s been… meaningful. I’m glad we crossed paths today.”

You smiled back, feeling a warmth in your chest that came from more than just the shared experience. “I’m glad too. It’s not every day you meet someone who understands the significance of something like this so deeply.”

Finally, Satoru spoke again, his tone lightening slightly. "Well, I should be going. The train is leaving soon. But... It was nice meeting you." He paused, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "Maybe we’ll see each other again."

You smiled, feeling the same unspoken connection. "I’d like that."

With one last look at the memorial, Satoru turned and began to walk away, his white hair catching the fading light of the day. You watched him go, a strange sense of calm settling over you.

As you stood there, the weight of the lovers' story still fresh in your heart, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the last time you would see Gojo Satoru. Something told you that your paths would cross again, in ways you couldn’t yet predict.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the memorial, you whispered one final prayer—not just for the nameless lovers, but for yourself, and perhaps for Satoru too.

"May we all find each other, in every lifetime."

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satorusugurugurl · 3 days

Note

heya! I have a req - imagine Gojo tears up when yn kisses his forehead. he’s never felt so vulnerable 🫠

take care :)

Rest

Summary: After a long day of being Gojo Satoru— the strongest sorcerer of the modern age, your boyfriend gets to come home to your loving embrace.

Characters: Gojo Satoru x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: sweet flufffy goodness, mentions of sleep deprivation, stress, overworking, but overall it’s really sweet!

Word Count: 1.6K

A/N: Nonnie thank you for your request! I had so much fun writing this, Gojo deserves so much better! 💚💚💚

It was late, two thirty in the morning, to be exact, when the door to the bedroom finally creaked open. You stirred, wincing at the stiffness in your neck as you sat up, the book you read lying against your chest. But your neck didn't matter, not when Satoru was wincing as he slipped his shirt off and placed it in the hamper. His blindfold hand was loosely wrapped around his neck, giving you a perfect view of his dark circles.

“Toru?” You hesitantly asked, drawing his attention towards the bed.

Though you could see the exhaustion in his eyes, he smiled a little on the side but still smiled for you. “Hey, Sweetpea, I didn't wake you, did I?” He walked towards the edge of the bed, kissing your cheek.

“No, I had a stiff neck, so that woke me up.”

Cerulean eyes darted towards the book that was still resting on your chest. “I told you you didn’t have to wait up for me. Just because I had to work late doesn’t mean you have to deprive yourself of sleep.” Even when he was talking, you could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

Being the strongest sorcerer of the modern age was a curse in itself. Satoru was constantly on the move. Whether yanked away for missions or meetings with the higher-ups, he rarely had a break. Time for himself was a rarity. You hated seeing him so drained. Even if you confronted him about it, he would deny it. Putting on some arrogant, cocky attitude that he was the strongest and handling some extra meetings or taking on a few more missions wasn’t going to hurt him.

Your boyfriend could put on that kind of act for himself, his students, or even the higher-ups themselves. You knew he was tired, though. He could deny your accusations all he wanted. You, however, were fortunate enough to know him better than he knew himself. That facade was see-through when it came to you looking at him.

You wanted to tell him it was okay to be tired and set some time aside for himself. Deep down, you knew if you were to bring that up, Gojo would try to ensure you that everything was peachy. So, given the circumstances, you did the one thing you were able to do.

You would support him, be there for him when he needed to vent, and help him out as much as you could or as much as he would allow you to do.

“I was just reading; my book got really good. I just dozed off.”

“Mmm, you should put the book down and get some sleep.” Long ivory fingers caressed your cheek. “I don’t want you having a crooked neck because you were up reading your smut.”

“Leave my books out of this~” Satoru snickered, rolling his eyes as he pulled back, unbuckling his belt. “Go take a shower, then get your ass in bed.”

Satoru gave you a dorky salute as he headed into the bathroom, removing the rest of his clothing as he walked. You knew he was exhausted from the shower he took. Enough to wash the white tufts of hair and wash his body thoroughly. When he finished his shower, his mind was fuzzy with sleep deprivation. Finishing getting ready for bed was a blur, but he found himself climbing the sheets next to you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he rested his head against your breasts.

Your warmth and the smell of you relaxed every muscle in his body as he rested his body weight against you. Satoru was so tired. He needed to think about going on vacation sometime soon. Getting away from the bustling life he was living sounded like a dream. One where you would join him, and the two of you would stay in bed, talking, watching movies, and enjoying each other‘s company for hours.

Thoughts of that had him snuggling his face further into your soft breasts. You could see the dark circles under his eyes from where you were propped up. Your poor boyfriend was being tugged in every way possible, which would take a toll on anybody. Just because he was the strongest didn’t mean everyone had a right to take advantage of him and use him as a weapon.

Gojo Satoru was human, and he deserved some praise and recognition. Normally, he provided that recognition for himself, occasionally giving himself a literal pat on the back. But it was nice to hear it from someone else, too. He deserved the world—nothing but happiness.

Sensing your body's tension, Satoru turned his head to look up at you. As he did, his soft white bangs moved with each turn of his head. You reached out, brushing some strands away, only stopping to push them back as if he were wearing his blindfold. His eyes glanced to where your hand was pushing up his hair, cerulean eyes almost crossing to get a glimpse.

No words needed to be said. You gave him the faintest smile before pressing your lips against his forehead. As your lips pulled away his skin, you could feel the tension in his body; fearing you may have crossed the line, you quickly pulled back, looking down at your chest with tears staining the thin fabric of your top.

“Toru?” Your voice was soft as if your words themselves would shatter him.

“W-What was that?”

“A forehead. a kiss, a little token of my appreciation for all your hard work.” You weren’t sure what to expect—maybe a thank you or a smile in return. What you met with instead was tears in his eyes. Tears that made the blue of his Iris stand out even more.”Toru! Baby, what’s the matter?”

“I just—that was different.”

Growing up as the strongest and as an only child had been rough. It didn’t matter that he was filthy rich. The staff at the house was constantly on him. His parents rarely came to see him or talk to him. Gojo was alone most of the time, and he found many of his favorite memories from that time when he snuck out of the estate and went exploring Tokyo, being held like this and having kisses planted against his forehead with something he had never experienced with anyone, even his mother.

And he liked it. Scratch that he loved it. Being able to rest in your arms to have you petting his head, and playing with his hair always had him relaxing. This was how he liked to spend his rare moments at home with you. To be in your arms, to have your fingers running through his soft hair, and to have your lips pressing against his forehead made everything he did worth it. He put so much time and effort into helping the next generation of sorcerers, trying to make this world a place he wanted to live in. The hours of the hard work he put in was worth it.

At the end of the day, he got to come home to you.

You were one of the only people who treated him like a human being rather than some tool to be used. So, after a long day of being pulled around, told what to do, and scolded, this was precisely what he needed. Gojo’s mind, body, and soul knew that, and they all worked against him and caused tears to well up in his eyes to make him feel vulnerable. Thiswas a feeling he somewhat liked as long as it was with you.

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby. I hope I didn’t insult you or make you uncomfortable.”

“No, I like it. I like it a lot, Sweetheart.” He slowly shut his eyes, his full white eyelashes resting against his cheek as he exhaled through his nose. “Could you do it again?”

Hearing him a king for you to kiss his forehead again had your heart swelling with a certain pride as you hummed happily, pressing your lips against his forehead while your nails gently scratched at his scalp. “Thank you for all of your hard work, Toru.” Your voice was angelic, easing Satoru further into the mattress as his body relaxed more, his mind slowly turning off. “Thank you for everything you do.” He hummed softly in response as he slowly began drifting to sleep, tears welling at the corners of his eyes before slowly streaming down his cheek.

Seeing the tears slowly sliding down his slightly flushed cheek had you abandoning one of your hands on the top of his head, your thumb quickly brushing the stray away. Once you were sure that the tears would stop flowing, your hands slowly drifted back up to the top of his head, continuing to scratch lazily at it as you shut your eyes, yawning, as Satoru hugged you tight, wrapping his arms around you not letting you out of his grasp. It was such a comforting and warm hug that left you feeling safe even when he fell asleep. Your nerves melted like snow on a spring day.

“I love you so much,” Satoru mumbled against your chest. Any other thoughts failed to reach his mouth; he began to breathe much deeper, falling into REM sleep.

But he didn’t have to say anything else. You simply priced one last very long kiss against the center of his forehead. When you finally managed to pull away, you found yourself cradling his head to your chest, allowing him to listen to your heartbeat because he fell asleep.

“I love you too, Toru.”

Yeah, all of his hard work was definitely worth coming home to this.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree

393 notes · View notes

emmyrosee · 3 days

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Pls pls pls help a girl out!!

Its shark 🦈 week and whenever I’m in shark week I crave angst full on body angst ne you write it best 😭 pity me

I write it the best…? 🥺🩷 also no specific character in mind for this, but yall are married so 🫶🏻

————-

You’ve been yelling at each other for hours.

The circles of verbal assault haven’t slowed its pace, vile, cruel words flying from one mouth to pierce the heart of the other, only for the other words to come harder, meaner, louder. The throes of anger keep you both pinned in place, unable to stop, think, and see the damage you’re causing each other.

Your hands are swollen from your fists being so tightly balled, migraine forming from your scowling. His brows are stuck pinched in the center of his forehead, so deep you’re convinced they’ll stay there for days after you’re done. His teeth are grit so tight together that you want to massage his jaw to make them loosen before he shatters his pearly whites into pieces.

The culprit? A cold cup of tea, that now sits to the side dejectedly.

Because of that cold cup of tea, you’ve been screaming for two, going onto three hours, with no end in sight.

But, it’s not about the cold tea. It’s about the fact that the urgency in your love is gone, the quickness and determination to be with each other has dissolved into nothing but sugar melting in a mug of tea. Your time together has been awkward, it’s been minimal, and in your search to do something nice for him, like a warm cup of tea, he allowed it to get cold, and… what happened next?

There’s boundaries being crossed, lines of truce being broken as you cast vicious words against each other, the use of insecurities to make the other crumble and conjure a look of hurt, only to morph to disgust and yell back something even more heinous.

And yet…

“What did I even marry you for?” He snarls, throwing his arms out. “I’m certain it wasn’t for this! So why are we wasting our time right now?”

Your world stops.

In an instant, all words die on your tongue. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish as all you can think about are his words. They repeat in your head, almost in slow motion, as your heart sinks in your chest.

“What…?” you croak. Your throat is dry, mouth cottony, and you silently pray to anything, holy and not, merciful and malicious, that you didn’t hear him right. Your mind is lying, so tired of fighting you’re seeing the worst in him as a defense mechanism.

“You heard me,” he barks. “Your life is so miserable? You hate it here so much? GO.”

You heard him right.

You wished you hadn’t.

Your arms come up to cradle yourself in comfort, the fire swirling in your chest now extinguished, the once lively fight now being reduced to a ringing in your ear.

You’d… when did he…

“You don’t get to sit here, call me a cheater, a loser, a liar, all for your own good mind. Not when I’ve put my whole LIFE into you. I gave you my WHOLE. LIFE.”

“Why…”

“What?” He snarls.

You sniffle. Your bottom lip wobbles, and you blink a line of scalding tears out; you’re surprised they don’t sizzle your flesh from being so hot with frustration.

“Why… are you being so mean?”

“Mean?” He snaps. “Mean, you’ve called me some of the cruelest shit I’ve ever heard in your vocabulary, but I’m being mean? Do you even hear yourself, IM THE MEAN ONE?”

“Do you really wonder why you married me…?”

Your voice is so quiet, you wonder if he heard you.

He opens his mouth to spew his venom, only to stop dead in his tracks. His brows soften as his eyes widen, jaw slacking subtly. For the first time tonight, the room is quiet; still thick enough to cut the tension with a blade, but it’s quiet enough where you both can gather your thoughts.

You wipe your nose with your arm, “do you really think I want to stay here and fight with you? Is that how you think I want to spend my night with you?” You sob softly, “because it’s not. I don’t want to fight with you over cold tea… I don’t want to…”

You can practically see the lightbulb over his head light up. That’s right, you think to yourself. This is about tea.

“I…”

“I don’t question why I married you,” you whimper. “I know exactly why- because I love you. But the man I know would never, and I mean never, verbally assault and question his love for me over a cold. Cup. Of. Tea.”

“I don’t…” he shakes softly. “How did we get here…?”

“You started this war,” you hiss. “I didn’t.”

“Baby…”

“Don’t you fucking baby me,” you snap. “No. You don’t get to do that as a way to weasel out of this. You’re not going to guilt me with pet names to forgive you.”

“No, no, baby- damn, no, I mean-“

“You know what?” You pull your lips down into a frown and throw your hands out in defeat. “You want me gone so bad? I’m gone.”

“No, no, wait,” he begs, reaching out for one of your hands. You whip them back like he’s made of fire, and he reels away, as if keeping you safe, “no, I don’t want you to leave. I don’t question my love for you, I’d rather die than ever have you wonder if I love you-“

“Then you’d better have a goddamned good explanation for this,” you hiss. “Because right now? We’re done.”

“No!”

“I’m…” your strength is gone. Your lip quivers and your hand comes up to cover your mouth, and you wail as you make a dash out of the room, darting for the bedroom. You lock the door and slam your fist against the wood, screaming, howling in agony at the heartbreak of potentially losing your husband over a cold cup of tea.

Things spiraled so far out of control, that he questioned his love for you. How are you to come back from that? Angry words are truth shrouded in cruelty, and you are not going to let him berate you in such a manner as to wonder if this marriage was a good choice. You deserve far more, far better, than that.

On the other side of the door, you hear a soft poomf, then a thump. You stop crying to try and figure out the noises and their purpose.

“I’m here,” he says quietly, a far different tone from how he was speaking to you not three minutes ago. “I won’t try to come in. I won’t make you talk to me. But I’m here… and I love you. And I’m sorry.”

“Bite me,” you choke.

You hear him sigh through his nose, “I… I know why I married you,” he whispers. You don’t say anything. He continues regardless, “because you’re you. And on our first date, you were late because you hated the outfit you had planned, but you looked so fucking good, I couldn’t handle it. And it was that day, I decided I wanted to wait for you, forever. You are more than worth waiting for. And…” you hear him clear his throat, but there’s an emotional block in his voice, “I’ll keep waiting for you. Right here, on this floor. I’ll sleep, I’ll eat, I’ll piss I’ll die here, I don’t care, I’m right here. And I’ll stay here to prove that you’re worth waiting for.” He shudders.

“I’m happy to wait for you.”

———

haikyuu: daichi, kageyama, tsukishima, kuroo, yaku, iwaizumi, mattsun, hanamakki, oikawa, kyotani, ushijima (different font), kita (also different font), atsumu, osamu, suna, sakusa, meian

bnha: bakugou, dabi, hawks

jjk: gojo, geto, nanami, sukuna, toji, shiu

tokyo rev: baji, draken, mikey, hanma, rindou

394 notes · View notes

crystallinestars · 2 days

Text

A month had passed since the Luofu incident, and Jiaoqiu’s injuries had healed. It had been a long time since you last got to be intimate, and now that the foxian is in better shape, he’s eager to get his hands on you. This is basically just smut with an attempt at hurt/comfort. I’m not good at writing scenarios, so this may be subpar at best, but I tried. Image source. Word count: 4584

WARNING:

MAJOR spoilers for the 2.5 story quest

Content aimed at an 18+ audience

Possibly OOC Jiaoqiu

Lots of vanilla smut and affection

Jiaoqiu x Fem!Reader (reader has a vagina)

Jiaoqiu sat on the edge of the couch while you carefully wrapped a fresh roll of gauze around his chest, covering up the ugly, jagged scars running across his chest. According to Jiaoqiu, the wounds had healed and required no further medical attention, but you couldn’t feel at ease until you did everything you could to ensure he healed properly. The shock of how close he had come to death still gripped your heart with ice-cold fingers, as did the grief of how much he had changed as a result.

A month ago, you had looked forward to welcoming Jiaoqiu home from his trip to the Luofu ship. You knew he was handling an important mission to transport Hoolay—the terrifying borisin leader who was the enemy of all foxians —to the Yaoqing ship, and that complications might arise when dealing with such a dangerous monster. However, never did you imagine Jiaoqiu will return to you blind and injured. He said he ingested Tumbledust—a lethal poison—to trick Hoolay into consuming it along with his blood. You mourned his loss of sight, but Jiaoqiu only smiled and assured you that it was a small price to pay for Hoolay’s downfall and that he did not regret his actions.

“There, all done,” you said while tying a final knot to hold the gauze securely around Jiaoqiu’s torso.

“Thank you. This should be the last time this is needed,” Jiaoqiu said as he patted the couch in search of his shirt.

You fell quiet as you stood in front of him and watched him struggle to find the shirt which rested just a bit farther from where his hand was fumbling about. What Jiaoqiu could once do in seconds without much thought, now required more time and effort on his part. It pained you to see him this way.

Jiaoqiu’s ears twitched at the prolonged silence, and as if sensing your downtrodden mood, he abandoned his search for the shirt in favor of reaching his hands toward you. For a split second, he lightly traced his hands along your stomach until they reached your waist, and then he looped them around you and pulled. You fell forward with a small yelp and found yourself straddling his lap with your hands tightly grasping his shoulders.

“Jiaoqiu! What are you doing?” you asked with mild annoyance, a bit frazzled by this sudden gesture.

“Can’t a man hug his girlfriend? It’s been a while since I got to hold you like this,” the foxian innocently replied and tightened his hold on you as he hugged you close. His hands slipped under the hem of your shirt to rub small circles into the skin of your lower back, meanwhile his chin came to rest on your shoulder, his mouth beside your ear.

“I was just thinking about how much I missed your touch. You’ve been fussing over my condition ever since I returned, but I miss your intimate touches, dear,” he mused as he rubbed the tip of his nose along your neck. “Now that I’m fully recovered, I’m hungry for you, my love. Will you indulge me?”

Your breath hitched as Jiaoqiu’s hand slowly slid higher under your shirt, skimming along your ribs with his palms. You knew he wanted to have sex, and truth be told, you were craving it too. Ever since he came back injured, you abstained from sexual activity in favor of caring for your boyfriend. As a result, you were pent up and eager for some relief. Still, you worried about his physical condition.

Grasping the foxian’s wrist, you gently pulled it away from your body and held his hand in yours.

“I don’t know… it’s probably too soon,” you murmured, fixing your gaze upon his chest where several horrific scars lay hidden under the gauze.

Jiaoqiu sighed but didn’t push you. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. We don’t have to do anything. But there is no need to hold back for my sake. My injuries have healed well, and I am perfectly healthy,” he admonished, his tone gentle yet firm.

You were still unconvinced. Even if his injuries were fine, there was still the issue of his blindness. Jiaoqiu could no longer do certain things with you such as cooking food for you or watching your favorite shows together. It stood to reason that sex with him would be different too, and you worried you would mess it up. What if you overwhelmed or made him uncomfortable by going too fast or rough? What if the moment felt awkward and ruined the allure of sexual intimacy for the two of you?

As if sensing your anxious thoughts, Jiaoqiu let out a soft hum and traced his hands up your arms and shoulders, following their path to your face. His palms tenderly cupped your cheeks, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your skin.

“I’m a doctor, dear. I know how much I can handle and how far to push myself,” he whispered and leaned in to kiss you. However, his lips missed the mark, and he kissed the corner of your mouth instead.

“Oops. I’m still not used to this yet,” he chuckled as he pulled away, laughing off the little mishap, but you could still feel the lingering warmth of his lips on your skin, slightly off from where he wanted them to land, and your heart squeezed painfully in your chest.

Letting out a shaky exhale, you cradled his face and lightly trailed your thumbs along the corners of his eyes, getting him used to being touched there, before placing two kisses on the outer corners of his eyes.

Jiaoqiu’s tail flicked.

“Your eyes…” you started in a whisper as you pressed your forehead to his, feeling a little emotional. It still pained you to see how much Jiaoqiu lost from swallowing that poison.

“It’s not a big deal,” Jiaoqiu said, his voice even and gentle. Slowly, one hand came to rest upon your head in a comforting gesture and the words you’ve heard several times over were said to you again: “It’s a small price to pay for Hoolay’s demise. I have no grievances, dear. I am content.”

I am content.

Jiaoqiu often repeated those words to remind you that he was happy with how things turned out in the end. The result may not be perfect, but for Jiaoqiu, it’s the best outcome he could have hoped for. Hoolay was gone, Feixiao had hope for a cure, and countless innocent lives were saved. In the grand scheme of things, those were all very positive outcomes, so the loss of his sight was insignificant by comparison. He could live just fine without it.

“Besides, you pity me too much, love. I’m not a fragile kit. These eyes of mine may not be of much use anymore, but I am still me. And right now, what I am is a man craving for his girlfriend’s affection,” he mused and ran a hand up the length of your spine in a feather-light caress.

Your breath hitched and you arched your back when Jiaoqiu’s hand trailed up your spine in the exact way he knew you liked. His touch sent tingles of pleasure through your back, causing you to shiver in delight.

A pleased smile tugged on his lips when he heard your breath catch and felt your body shudder on his lap. The healer traced your spine again, eager to feel and hear you react to his touch.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? If you let me, I’ll make you feel even better,” he purred against your ear and gave it a gentle nibble.

Overcome with lust and an intense craving for your boyfriend’s touch, you succumbed to his seduction. Taking hold of his chin, you guided Jiaoqiu’s mouth to meet yours. The kiss started out tender and sweet, full of the love you harbored for one another, but as your hands explored each other, the kiss became imbued with lust. Teeth nipped at lips and tongues met in a heated dance until your breaths ran short and you were forced to part for air.

Jiaoqiu’s hands mapped out the curves and dips of your body, slowly tracing the contours as if studying learning them for the very first time. Now that he no longer had his eyesight, his sense of touch served to teach him the look of your body. Though he had seen your bare figure many times before, now he was taking his time to truly familiarize himself with it. His palms glided over your shoulders and arms, the swells of your breasts, and the dips in your back, memorizing how you felt and reacted to every touch.

As you broke the kiss, a string of saliva joining you to Jiaoqiu’s mouth pulled back with you in a lewd display of desire, until it finally broke. A soft whisper of his name fell from your lips, and the foxian’s ears rotated in response to the sound. Their movement caught your attention.

Reaching your right hand up, you placed it on his head before slowly making your way toward the base of his ear so as to let him know what you wanted to do. Catching on to your intentions, Jiaoqiu chuckled and lowered his head so you could pet his ear more easily.

Your thumb rubbed gentle circles into the fluffiest part of his ear where you knew Jiaoqiu liked being touched. Sure enough, a subtle purr rumbled in the back of his throat. Encouraged by his response, you placed your left hand on his other ear and mirrored the process, rubbing both of his ears simultaneously. The foxian let out a shaky breath and tightened his grip on your hips, feeling your touch stronger than usual since the loss of his sight heightened his other senses.

You shifted to sit more comfortably on Jiaoqiu’s lap while petting his ears and felt a distinct hardness poke at you between your thighs. Even without looking down, you knew Jiaoqiu was pitching a tent. He wasn’t the only one feeling horny, however, and while still playing with his ears, you pressed your hips firmly against the bulge. A low, guttural groan tore from Jiaoqiu’s throat, and he leaned forward to bury his face in the crook of your neck, giving the skin a playful nip. You ground your hips again in response and reveled in the sharp hiss that motion elicited from the healer.

Growing a bit impatient from the teasing, Jiaoqiu tugged at your shirt in a silent message for you to take it off. You complied and shed your clothing, tossing it to the side as you exposed your body to him, save for a pair of panties. Once you were back on his lap, Jiaoqiu’s hands eagerly explored your bare skin, unhindered by pesky clothing.

Your hands traveled across his broad shoulders and down to his chest still covered by the gauze. The feeling of his warm skin transitioning into the coarse material sent a pang through your heart, and you leaned down to kiss the skin above the gauze. In response, Jiaoqiu breathed a soft sigh in and traced his hands up to your breasts before cupping them in his palms and flicking your nipples with his thumbs. Biting back a moan, you ground your hips against his once more and continued to dry hump against his groin at a slow and steady pace.

With each slow yet firm swivel of your hips, your clothed pussy rubbed against his erection, sending sparks of pleasure through your body each time your clit grazed against his hardness.

The tip of Jiaoqiu’s tail thumped against the couch with impatience.

“You’re being quite the tease,” Jiaoqiu rasped, smile strained as he tried to control his desire to buck against your pussy. The amount of friction you provided felt good, but it was not enough.

“Am I? And here I was just trying to make you feel good,” you teased, but relented, wanting to be nice to Jiaoqiu. Reaching a hand between your bodies, you undid his pants and fished out his erection. His cock was stiff and hot, the mushroom tip leaking beads of precum. Jiaoqiu groaned and swished his tail when you gave his dick an experimental pump.

“Be gentle,” he reminded, already feeling overwhelmed by the sensation of your hand grasping his aching length. You hummed in acknowledgment and lubricated your palm with his precum and your saliva, before wrapping it around his cock. As your hand pumped the hard flesh at a slow and gentle pace, Jiaoqiu’s body tensed, and you heard his breath hitch.

“Does this feel good?” you asked, hoping this wasn’t too overwhelming for your boyfriend.

“Yes. Just keep going,” he groaned and leaned his forehead against your shoulder, his arms tightening around your waist in an almost desperate grip.

With his encouragement, you continued to pump his cock, going faster and gripping tighter when he said you could. Occasionally, you would switch to rubbing his tip with your palm or circling your thumb over the slit in the cockhead, smiling when you felt Jiaoqiu shiver in response to the stimulation.

Soft gasps and strained groans spilled from his lips, and his ears and tail twitched each time you stimulated a particularly sensitive spot on his cock. To enhance his pleasure, you used your free hand to rub circles on the skin around the base of his tail and trailed kisses along his neck, sucking marks into the areas you knew he liked. Pretty soon, Jiaoqiu was panting and rocking his hips into your hand, chasing after his release.

“Hah… Ah! Don’t stop—I’m close,” he moaned, voice coming out strained as he tried to hold back his sounds of pleasure.

Wanting to push your beloved over the edge, you kissed him hard and deep while jerking his cock at a steady pace and massaging the base of his tail. Jiaoqiu moaned into your mouth, and after a few seconds, you felt his cock twitch as ropes of cum covered your hand. Breaking the kiss, you pulled back and gave his dick a few more slow pumps, milking as much pleasure from his orgasm as you could, before finally letting go and wiping your hand on your thigh.

Jiaoqiu looked like a disheveled mess, ears askew and cheeks flushed as he sat there, gasping for breath.

“That felt way better than I remember,” he rasped with a weak smile.

Chuckling, you pressed a light kiss to his cheek and pulled him in for a hug, letting Jiaoqiu recover from his orgasm.

“I’m glad it did. I had almost forgotten how good you look, all flushed like this,” you teased, earning a light pinch to your nipple from Jiaoqiu.

“I still haven’t forgotten how you look when you fall apart under my touch,” he said, turning the tables as he slid a hand between your legs. His fingers carefully traced over your crotch, feeling the outlines of your labia before cupping your clothed pussy.

“If there’s one thing I miss seeing, it’s that lovely face of yours when you orgasm,” he teased and laughed when you playfully slapped at his arm in retaliation.

Whatever barbed comments you wanted to send his way quickly died on your tongue as a surprised moan tore from your throat when Jiaoqiu found your clit and pressed his thumb against it. A molten knot of pleasure tightened in your abdomen when his thumb circled your clit over your drenched panties, eliciting another moan from you.

“What a lovely sound. I want to hear it again,” he purred. “Now it’s my turn to make you feel good. Let's get you nice and wet for me, shall we?”

Jiaoqiu pushed aside your panties and slipped a single digit inside your soaking pussy, making you groan as your walls sucked it deeper inside.

“You’re so tight and wet,” he said in a husky whisper, slowly moving his finger in and out of your cunt, creating a lewd, wet noise with each pump. “I can’t wait to be inside you.”

Jiaoqiu adjusted the angle of his hand and slid a second finger into you. His thumb teased your clit in languid circles while his fingers slowly scissored you open, prepping you for his cock. You moaned and bucked your hips into his hand, wanting more stimulation.

Jiaoqiu chuckled but doubled down his efforts to please you. His thumb pressed harder against your nub, and he curled his fingers inside you, searching for that one spot on the upper wall of your vagina that made you see stars. When he found it, he pressed on it over and over again with each thrust of his fingers, smirking at how you keened and clutched his shoulders in response.

“Feels good, does it?” he mused, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts.

“Yeah, but you talk too much,” you huffed and kissed Jiaoqiu to shut him up. The foxian only laughed into the kiss, but let his tongue play with yours while he sped up the thrusts of his fingers.

He broke the kiss and carefully leaned his head forward to touch his forehead against yours, your warm breaths mingling together as you rutted against his hand. The knot in your belly grew tighter and tighter, your climax steadily approaching as the healer worked to send you over the edge.

Once you were sufficiently relaxed, Jiaoqiu plunged a third finger into your core and switched to rubbing your clit with the heel of his palm. You groaned at the stretch and clung to his shoulders, instinctively bucking your hips against his hand, trying to take the digits deeper. Soft moans of his name slipped past your lips as you moved your hips in time with his hand, feeling the knot in your belly slowly tighten.

Jiaoqiu’s ears perked up at the sound of his name, and he gently kissed your neck and shoulders, whispering praises about how lovely you sounded to encourage you to let more of your voice out. His other hand trailed along your side, reaching up to squeeze your breast and tease your nipple, or reaching behind to run along your spine in that same teasing manner, smiling when he felt your pussy flutter around his fingers in response.

“Are you close?” Jiaoqiu asked, keeping that same steady rhythm as he fingered you, hitting your g-spot.

“Y-Yeah… I’m close,” you answered, your voice wavering as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of climax.

“Then let go. Let me feel you come all over my fingers,” he whispered into your ear and gave it a nip.

As if by command, your body convulsed and you were hurled into an orgasm, hips desperately bucking into Jiaoqiu’s hand while your walls squeezed his digits. You stifled your moans against his shoulder, and Jiaoqiu continued to thrust his fingers into you, helping you ride out your orgasm until you stopped trembling. The foxian gently pulled his fingers out of your pussy, drenched and slick with your essence, before licking them clean.

“I missed your taste…” Jiaoqiu murmured, savoring your flavor, making you blush at this erotic display. The foxian gently pulled you against his chest, and you slumped against him, breathing heavily as you regained your senses.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, lightly stroking your head.

“Good. Very good,” you replied with a breathless chuckle. “I haven’t felt this relaxed in a while.”

Jiaoqiu smiled, pleased that he had such an effect on you.

Though the healer didn’t say anything, you felt his erection poke at your abdomen and knew that his body wanted more than the one orgasm you gave him earlier.

“Do you want to keep going?” you asked him as you traced a finger along the slimy mushroom tip. Jiaoqiu flinched at the unexpected touch and hissed.

“I wouldn’t mind if we kept going, but only if you want to, love.”

Smiling, you leaned in and gave him a light peck on the lips. “I do want to,” you said. “I’ve gone way too long without feeling you inside me. Just let me know if you need to stop.”

You made Jiaoqiu agree to tell you if he felt discomfort at any point before adjusting yourself on his lap. Lifting your hips, you lined up the tip of his cock with your entrance, taking a moment to tease it over your opening and coat it with your slick. Jiaoqiu stifled a groan and tightened his grip on your hips, restraining the urge to thrust his hips up and bury his aching cock in your slick warmth.

Once the tip was pressed against your entrance, you slowly sank down, taking Jiaoqiu’s length inch by inch. You both moaned once he bottomed out and basked in the familiar feeling of being joined together.

“I missed this,” Jiaoqiu said, resting his forehead against your shoulder while he breathed deeply to try and acclimate to the snug squeeze of your pussy. The sensation felt more intense than he remembered. “You feel so good around me, dear.”

“I missed this too,” you murmured, hugging Jiaoqiu and stroking his head.

“I wish I could see your face right now. I bet you look really cute,” he added in a low voice and traced a hand up your body until he felt the familiar curve of your jaw. His index finger lightly traced your cheek, causing your heart to squeeze in your chest. Taking his hand, you leaned your cheek into his palm and kissed the inside of his wrist. Jiaoqiu tensed at the sensation at first but quickly relaxed and smiled.

When both of you had grown accustomed to the sensations, you started moving. Gripping Jiaoqiu’s shoulders, you ground against him by slowly rotating your hips. His cock pleasantly rubbed along your walls, stoking the fire in your belly. Jiaoqiu let out another low moan and hugged you close, pressing your bodies flush together.

After a few minutes of this slow, gentle grinding, Jiaoqiu adjusted his hold on your waist and bucked upwards, driving himself deeper inside you. You moaned in surprise and stopped.

“You can move faster, I’m not going to break,” he reminded you, a hint of pleading in his voice. He wasn’t satisfied with this gentle pace.

“Fine. You’re so impatient,” you playfully chided him, but complied. Getting into a more comfortable position, you lifted off his lap before lowering back down again, biting back a moan at how his cock dragged against your walls. Over and over, you gently bounced on his dick, slowly picking up speed and angling your hips so his tip hit that sweet spot deep inside, sending jolts of pleasure through you with each thrust.

Jiaoqiu groaned and nuzzled into the crook of your neck, sucking more marks into the skin while his tail swished side to side in excitement. One of his hands roamed along your back, nails lightly raking down your spine and causing you to moan and shiver with pleasure. Your pussy clenched around his member, eliciting another throaty noise of pleasure from the foxian.

The sharp sounds of skin slapping against skin mixed with your heady moans of pleasure echoed in the room as you rode Jiaoqiu’s length. The knot in your belly tightened even more as you felt your climax slowly approach, but the tired aching in your thighs made you slow down. Your slowed pace alerted Jiaoqiu to your tiredness, and he skimmed a hand between your bodies until his fingers found your clit. He pressed hard on it and rubbed tight circles with the pad of his thumb, causing you to jolt and moan in response.

“Just a little more, dear. Hang in there for a little longer,” he encouraged, voice hoarse with pleasure. The stimulation against your clit motivated you to keep moving, chasing after your release that was now within reach.

“Jiaoqiu, I’m gonna cum,” you slurred, pressing your torso firmly against his as you spend up your thrusts. The foxian looped an arm around your waist, holding you close while still working on your clit.

“Go on, dear, cum for me. I’m also close,” he said in a strained voice, desperately trying to hold out to come together with you.

After a few more eager thrusts and rubs against your clit, you came with a loud cry. Your hands dug into Jiaoqiu’s shoulders as you rode out the high, hips eagerly grinding against his as your pussy pulsed around his cock. Jiaoqiu followed after you and climaxed while groaning your name, bucking his hips up into yours, forcing himself deeper into your cunt as he spilled inside your warmth.

With a shudder, you came down from your orgasm and slumped against Jiaoqiu’s torso, feeling completely spent. You were out of breath and your legs ached, but you were satisfied in a way you hadn’t felt in a while. Not since Jiaoqiu left for the Luofu over a month ago.

The feeling of the foxian’s hands gently massaging your thighs brought you back to reality, and you tilted your head to look up at him. His lips were curled into a serene and sincere smile, an expression of true happiness adorning his face.

“How do you feel?” he asked that familiar question, one he always asked after each session of sex you had with him. As a doctor and your partner, he felt it was his duty to make sure you were alright afterward.

“Tired but thoroughly satisfied,” you said with a contented hum. Jiaoqiu’s smile widened.

“I’m glad. You did well,” he said and kissed your forehead.

After the two of you regained your strength, Jiaoqiu pulled out of you but kept you on his lap, hugging you close while still massaging the soreness out of your thighs. His head lay on your shoulder, tail lazily swaying from side to side while you absentmindedly rubbed one of his ears. He appeared to be at peace, a state you haven’t seen him in for weeks. After all, it’s hard to be at ease when you suddenly lose the functionality of your eyes and have to learn how to navigate the world without eyesight.

“One day, we’ll heal your eyes,” you whispered with determination. “I promise.”

Jiaoqiu let out a small hum, his tail pausing in its movements.

“I know you will. You and Feixiao will make it happen, one way or another,” he said with a hint of amusement. “But even if you don’t, I’ll be happy as long as I have you and everyone else by my side.”

He leaned in for a kiss, but his lips landed on your chin. Chuckling at his awkward targeting, the healer gently gripped your chin and tilted your head up for a proper kiss.

Jiaoqiu was still your beloved Jiaoqiu through and through. He was content to live a life where his loved ones were safe and happy, but you wanted to at least try to search for a solution to his blindness. Whether you had to scour through heaps of ancient records or travel to the other side of the universe, you wanted to help and heal Jiaoqiu the way he had helped and healed so many others.

But if by some misfortune there was no cure for his ailment, you will remain by his side no matter what. Jiaoqiu is devoted to you and you to him, and that will never change.

#Honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #star rail x reader #jiaoqiu x reader #jiaoqiu x reader smut #jiaoqiu x female reader

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plumso · 2 days

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sweet reverie (theo x reader)

pairing: theodore nott x reader warning: obsessiveness, possessiveness, bitting summary: y/n attempts to place boundaries between them, but it only reveals the extent of his love for her. masterlist song recommendation: fade into you by mazzy star I do not consent to the reposting of my work! reblogging, however, is fine <3

Y/N has only been in two relationships, the first lasting two years and the second lasting a month. Therefore, she believed she understood love and relationships. Despite how young she was or how long the relationship lasted, she thought she was now mature enough to know what she expected and needed from a partner.

But she was wrong.

“T-Theo, we shouldn’t do this here,” Y/N whispered.

Theo’s face was nestled in her neck, his lips pressed gently on her skin.

“Hm?” he replied, the vibrations causing a shiver down her back.

“People are staring!” she exclaimed.

The two were at the Great Hall for lunch, but Theo preferred to gnaw on her neck rather than his food. Unsurprisingly, many eyes were on the lovebirds.

Theo chuckled. He moved his head closer to her ear, rubbing his face in her hair, taking in the sweet apple scent of her shampoo. “I don’t care,” he whispered.

Y/N’s heart leaped as he proceeded to whisper sweet nothings. She couldn’t refuse him. Though anxious about everyone’s stares, she couldn’t help but give in.

Four months have passed since Y/N started dating Theo. In that short span, she has received more love and affection from him than her two exes combined. He has given her more than what she needs, more than she could ever ask for.

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle as Theo continued to whisper, his warm breath hitting her ears.

Pleased by her response, Theo gently bit her ear.

Shocked, Y/N slightly drew back as her hand covered her ear. She looked at Theo with disbelief, and he responded with a mischievous smile.

“I’ve always thought you would look good with earrings,” he said, his long fingers drawing a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing a slight bite mark on her ear lobe. “It looks nice on you.”

Y/N’s face flushed. “I-I!” she stammered. She was too flustered to think of a response.

Theo chuckled, finding her reaction cute. He sighed happily and placed his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. “Don’t worry. I’ll buy you real earrings. Consider this as its placeholder.”

Y/N nodded shyly. Her body was still tense from the shock of the bite, but it soon dissipated. She quickly felt warm in his embrace, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Theo smiled. He then handed her a spoon and pushed her plate closer to her. “Alright, you should eat now. Lunchtime is going to end soon.”

In a daze of warmth and comfort, Y/N nodded. “Thank you,” she hummed, digging her spoon into her fruit parfait.

As the two ate, some of their friends joined them at the table. Theo participated in their conversation, but Y/N remained in her daze, the feel of his teeth still lingering on her skin.

She ran her fingers on the bite marks. Theo would never dare to cause her actual pain, so the marks were shallow. But she could still feel the outlines of his teeth on her skin.

It didn’t hurt when he bit her. Rather, she felt a tingling sensation in her stomach, a constant feeling when she’s with him. Usually, it would disappear after a few minutes, but she couldn’t shake this one away.

***

“Hey, Y/N!”

Y/N looked up from her notes and saw her potions partner run up to her. Surrounding students in the library turned and gave them a quick glare. Y/N gave them an apologetic look for the loud disturbance.

“Our project is due soon. Did you want to meet up later and work on it?” He gave Y/N a warm smile, completely ignoring Theo who was sitting right next to her.

Y/N was nervous. Was he ignoring Theo on purpose? Or did he just not see him? Y/N looked at Theo, worried that he would be fuming.

But he wasn’t. He seemed unbothered, his attention focused on his book. It was only till he felt her stare did he look up. Theo gave her a warm smile, wordlessly assuring her he was fine.

Relieved, Y/N smiled back before facing her potions partner. “Uh, yeah. I have a free period after potions. Would that work?”

“Perfect! I have a free period, too. We should hang out more then!” He exclaimed, giving her a charming smile.

Y/N uncomfortably laughed. “Haha, yeah…”

Not noticing her discomfort, he smugly smiled at Theo, as if he had succeded something. “Okay, I’ll see you later then!”

As he walked away, Y/N anxiously turned to Theo. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“What are you sorry for?” he said with a small chuckle.

“He was kind of… rude to you,” she said, looking down at her fidgeting hands. She didn’t know why, but she felt guilty. It felt like she betrayed Theo by being too nice to her potions partner.

But Theo gave her a warm, knowing smile. “You did nothing wrong.” With his large hands, he gently patted her head. “You’re a nice person. That’s one of the things that I love about you.”

Y/N blushed, feeling shy by his gaze and touch. In times like this, Y/N is reminded that Theo truly sees her, that he understands her.

After a few minutes of flirting, the two turned back to their respective books. But as Y/N tried to refocus on her studies, she couldn’t shake off this uncertain feeling. Theo had perfectly assured her that he was unbothered by it, but she couldn’t fully believe it.

Curious, Y/N slightly tilted her head to take a quick peek at Theo. What she saw then made her eyes widen and her heart drop in shock.

Theo’s usual warm smile was gone. Instead, it was replaced with a dark glare, his eyes directed at her potions partner a few tables away. His eyebrows were furrowed, his hands in a tight ball, his lips in a tight frown. Some blood seeped from his lips, most likely from biting too hard on it.

Y/N knew that Theo was naturally cold to everyone but her, but he has never seen him angry before. His eyes were filled with bloodlust, his body tense as if he was ready to fight. Seeing this new side of him, Y/N felt a bit scared.

But when she realized that Theo was jealous, that he was mad for her, her face turned beet red. The same tingling sensation came back but in tenfolds. His brooding anger, his dark glare, his dangerous aura - she found it exhilarating.

Realizing that she’s been peeking for too long, Y/N focused her eyes back on her books. But she couldn’t help but imagine how it would feel if he looked at her with that dark, dangerous look in his eyes.

***

After dinner with Theo, Y/N went to the bathroom with her friends to get ready for bed. She placed her skincare bag on one of the sinks before checking her ear closer in the mirror. A few days have passed since Theo bit her ear, and the mark faded later that day. But she continued check it and felt disappointed that his mark was already gone.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Her friend looked at her with a curious smile.

Y/N quickly backed away from the mirror, awkwardly laughing. “Nothing!” she exclaimed. She then started her skincare routine, hoping to seem normal.

“So…” her friend said as she walked over to Y/N. “How’s it going with Theo? Is he treating you well?”

Y/N brightly smiled. “Yes,” she replied shyly. “He treats me really well.”

“We’ve noticed!” One quipped, causing everyone to laugh. “He’s always around you.”

“Yeah, he’s super territorial of you,” another added. “It’s pretty funny.” Everyone nodded in agreement.

But Y/N was shocked. “What do you mean?”

“Oh… well, he’s always glaring down boys around you. Even around us, he’s sort of… protective of you.”

“I see…” Y/N trailed off, getting lost in deep thought. She knew that Theo was a bit… possessive of her, but she considered it normal between a couple. But if her friends noticed it and he’s warding the people around her… is it a bad thing?

Noticing her worried look, her friends attempted to lift her spirits. “W-we don’t think it’s a bad thing!”

“Y-yeah!” one friend added. “For some people, it can be seen as endearing!”

Y/N give a small smile, but was still conflicted. “But could it be a bad thing? If it goes… too far?” Y/N remembers what happened earlier today when Theo continued to glare at her potions partner till he left. His anger seemed like he would snap at any moment.

“Well… it can be toxic. Especially if he’s trying to push your friends away.”

“Remember my last ex?” one friend suddenly added. Y/N nodded in response. “Well, he was so jealous. Any time I would talk to a guy, he would yell at me and call me a cheater. It was suffocating.”

“Ooo, I had an ex like that, too!” another exclaimed. “And he would control what I’m wearing. Every single time we went to Hogsmeade, he would make me change my clothes. It was so weird.”

Y/N nodded, taking in all their experiences. Theo hasn’t done anything remotely close to what her friends’ exes have done, but they have been dating for only a few months. Would he become like that later on?

As her friends continued to talk about their exes, Y/N continued to think about Theo and his possessiveness. She also thinks of how she feels when she notices it, that exhilarating, tingling feeling. Is it bad that she feels excited when he’s like that?

‘Maybe I should set some boundaries for us…’

***

“Y/N?” Theo said softly, his eyes slightly squinted with concern. “Did I do something wrong?”

The two were at Charms class, waiting for Professor Flitwick’s arrival. Theo had been anxious the whole day, concerned of Y/N’s distant behavior.

After that talk with her friends, Y/N spent the following days setting boundaries between her and Theo. She started distancing herself a little, keeping the PDA to a minimum. She even forced herself to be unresponsive whenever he would be extra flirty.

Theo noticed this and was noticeably disappointed. Though his demeanor remained the same around Y/N, he was impatient and moody to others.

Y/N felt awful. There were many times when she wanted to give in. Every time he hugged her, played with her hair, or give her that handsome smile, she wanted to jump on him and melt in his arms.

“No, of course not,” Y/N replied, giving him a warm smile. “I’ve… been stressed with homework recently.”

“Oh, I see.” Theo smiled in relief, his body becoming noticeably less tense. “I can always help you if you want.”

Theo placed his hand on hers, but Y/N drew her hand back. “O-oh! I have to ask Professor Flitwick something! I’ll be right back,” she rambled before rushing towards the professor.

During the entire class, Theo was silent. He didn’t whisper or joke around with Y/N like he usually does, causing Y/N to feel guilty.

But Y/N was resolved. She knew that Theo was the last man she’d ever be with, the man that she’d marry, the man her children would call “dad” or “papa.”

After class ended, she wanted to do something to uplift his mood, but he was already back to his normal, kind self by then.

***

Y/N’s plans were successful. After weeks of setting boundaries, they now flirted less in public, they weren’t cuddling as much as before, and her friends were around them more often.

She was glad that the two had normal boundaries now. She felt assured that their relationship would benefit from it, that they’d avoid the same fate as her friends did.

But despite all that, she felt lonely.

Even right now as they walked the halls together. They were still talking as usual, joking and complimenting each other. But Y/N desperately wanted to hold his hands or wrap herself around his buff arm. Yet, she continued to deny herself from that pleasure.

Then, as if he read her mind, Theo wrapped his arm around his waist. From this, a wave of electricity ran through her body. She missed his touch. It’s been a while since he’s held her like that. It was as if he was claiming her to the people around.

But Y/N remained firm in resolve and drew away from his grip. She bit her lips, conflicted and annoyed with her actions, but she continued to walk. However, Theo stopped in place, his eyes looking down. His usual smile had dropped to a small, sad frown.

At that moment, her resolve had broken. She had seen him happy, she had seen him lose patience in others, she had seen him angry, but she had never seen him sad. It was immediate that this was something she hated to see.

“Theo-”

Before Y/N could comfort him, one of her friends ran up to her. “Y/N! Y/N! Did you hear?”

Y/N turned around to face her friend who looked frantic and concerned. “What? What happened?”

“Brian, your potions partner!” she huffed, gasping for air. “He’s in the hospital wing! Apparently, he’s been unconscious for a few days!”

Y/N’s eyes widened and her body stiffened. She didn’t know why, but she was scared to learn more. “R-really…”

“Yeah! Someone said he got in some sort of… freak accident! No one knows what really happened. Madame Pomfrey thinks that maybe a spell he did rebound, but- Oh, Cho! Wait there! I have to tell you something!” Her friend ran off and left the lovebirds behind.

Y/N was afraid to look back. She was inexplicably afraid of Theo. ‘Could Theo have…’

“Y/N…” Theo pleaded softly as if he was still sad about her behavior earlier.

Y/N quickly turned around, ready to comfort him, but he was smiling. His face was stiff, his lips curled unsettlingly as if it was forced. Y/N was a bit thrown off; she’d never seen him so stiff.

Suddenly, Theo took her hand and dragged her away.

“W-wait,” she pleaded, attempting to draw her hand away, but his grip became tighter. He didn’t respond to her pleadings.

His eyes were dark and brooding. He seemed annoyed as if something finally snapped in him. When Y/N realized this, her skin was prickling with goosebumps as a shiver ran through her body. She completely forgot everything about her potions partner.

Theo then walked into an empty classroom, letting go of Y/N’s hand to cast a lock charm on the door.

Y/N took a few steps back, feeling a bit anxious about his sudden change in demeanor. “Theo?” she asked softly.

Theo remained silent, making her more anxious. He finally turned around to face her, but he wasn’t smiling. He was angry. For the first time ever, Theo was angry at her. Y/N shivered.

He slowly walked to her, getting closer and closer till she had to bend her neck and look up at him. “Sit,” he said, nodding at the table behind her.

“Theo-”

“Sit,” he said, his voice firm and lower than before.

Y/N nodded, slowly backing herself to the table. She couldn’t refute him.

As she was about to prep herself up, Theo placed his hands on her waist and lifted her, setting her on the table. He then positioned himself between her legs, his arms resting around her waist.

They were now at eye level, his dark gaze intensifying. Y/N’s breath shortened, feeling uneasy and excited by his intimidating presence. She was anxious about what would come next.

“Kiss me,” he demanded.

Y/N knew better than to defy, so she leaned in and kissed him. He remained stiff, letting himself feel her warm lips softly placed on his. He wanted more.

“Open your mouth,” he demanded, his thumb pressed on her lips.

Though slightly apprehensive, Y/N opened her mouth and he started kissing her deeply. His hands roamed all over her body as if he couldn’t get enough of her warm touch. It was passionate, a little rough, and needy.

Y/N felt a bit light-headed. “T-Theo,” she breathed in between their kisses. She brought up her hands to push him away, but he took hold of them and gripped them against the table. She knew she should try harder to push him away, but she didn’t want to. She couldn’t even think properly.

“Tell me to stop,” he said as he moved down to her neck. He planted gentle kisses before sucking on the skin. This sent shivers down her spine, moans daring to come out. Despite worries about their boundaries or if anyone would walk in on them, she didn’t want him to stop, and he knew that.

He continued to kiss her everywhere - on her cheeks, lips, and neck. “Do you hate it?” he whispered lowly. When she didn’t answer, he bit her ear. “Do you hate it?” he repeated impatiently.

Y/N felt shy. She didn’t want to admit that she felt excited when he did stuff like that. But feeling weak in his stare, she replied meekly, “No.”

Theo chuckled, his eyes filled with excitement. H nestled back in her neck, biting into her skin. His bite was a bit harder than before, leaving a mark that will last for days. Y/N winced in the pain, but she was more overwhelmed with the twitching feeling in her stomach.

He then drew back, taking in the sight before him. Y/N’s face was flushed, her collar unbuttoned, her hair slightly ruffled. His teeth marks were all over her neck and ear. He looked immensely pleased.

“Look. It’s a matching set now,” he said with a small laugh, tracing his fingers on the marks.

When Theo was about to go in for more, Y/N placed her hand on his chest. “I’m sorry, Theo,” she whimpered, tears falling down her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

Theo looked at her red, teary face, and his body slightly trembled in excitement. “You’re so cute,” he said, gently wiping away her tears with his thumb. His other hand was gripping onto his pants as if he was holding himself back from doing more. More to his precious, tear-eyed girlfriend that sat innocently in front of him. Instead, he caressed her head gently, waiting for her sobs to die down.

After a few tears and a couple of sniffs, Y/N rubbed her eyes and focused them on Theo. His dark gaze had turned gentle.

“I-I’m sorry for being mean,” she sniffed. “I did it because I… I-” Y/N stammered, her mind racing to find the proper words to explain herself.

But Theo gave his same warm, knowing smile. “It’s okay,” he said softly.

Y/N’s heart sank as she felt more dissapointed. Of course, he already knew everything. After all, he’s the only one who truly understood her.

Y/N shook her head. “No… it’s not okay,” she said stubbornly. She then gripped onto his shirt and laid her head on his chest. “I shouldn’t have compared our relationship to others. I’m sorry.”

Theo chuckled before wrapping his arms around her. “Just don’t ever push me away again. And talk to me if you feel worried.”

Y/N nodded, her head still on his chest.

“Also…” he cupped his hands on her cheeks, bringing her face closer to his. His gaze was strong, a small glint of red in his eyes. “You’re mine. You can never leave me.”

Y/N shivered in excitement, electricity humming throughout her body. She felt her lips curl up in a smile. Pleased by her reaction, Theo’s eyes started to look dangerous again and filled with excitement.

At that moment, she finally accepted that Theo’s love for her was distorted. That it was probably different from what others consider as “healthy.” Some might even call it toxic. His deep, dark, dangerous feelings

But she didn’t care. She was intoxicated. His scent, his warm blue eyes, his rough, calloused hands touching gently on her skin - she couldn’t get enough of it.

Y/N nodded. “I’m yours.”

Theo stroked away a strand of hair behind her ears. He then placed his hand behind her head, bringing her into a deep kiss.

In an empty classroom where Theo placed a lock and silence charm, the two continued to get lost in each other’s touch, making up for all their lost time.

***

a/n: just to clarify, this is not a smut lol. i think i was having a bit too much fun with this one. also, it's so funny how they forgot about the potions partner lol. but i wanted to emphasize how much of a daze she's in when she's around him. anywho, hope you enjoyed it!

here is part one if you want to know how their relationship started <3

#theo x reader #theo #theo nott #theodore nott #theo nott x reader #harry potter #hp #hp fanfic #hogwarts #hufflepuff #gryffindor #ravenclaw #slytherin #harry potter x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x reader #lorenzo zurzolo

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pitchsidestories · 2 days

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cause you know I love the players and you love the game II Alexia Putellas x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1181

a/n: thank you anon for sending us this prompt, we hope you readers enjoy the short oneshot. ❤️

warnings: 18 + smut

It was in the middle of an important game for Barcelona, the last minutes of the second half were on and there was still no goal in sight until this moment.

Emotions ran high between fans and players alike when you’re fouled by an opposing defender in the penalty area.

For a moment the pain was overwhelming, you could feel your girlfriends worried gaze on you as you slowly got to your feet again.

Meanwhile the referee has pointed to the penalty kick, Alexia was readying herself to fulfil her captain duties, but you held her back with your less hurting arm. There was a fire in your stomach which gave you the belief that you’d be able to score.

“Amor, let me do the penalty kick.”,

“What? You?”, she raised her eyebrows surprised.

“Yes, come on move over, Ale.”, you told her unimpressed.

“No.”, Alexia shook her head determined.

“Alexia.”, you replied impatiently.

“You know what you’re doing?”, your girlfriend sighed.

“Of course I do.”, certainty shimmering through your words.

“Make sure you hit it with enough power. To the left, it’s the goalies weak side.”, the blonde advised you.

She knew you were unstoppable when you were in the mood you were in. Her trust was rewarded with you converting the penalty kick. Immediately your teammates gathered around for a group hug.

“Not bad.”, Alexia commented nonchalantly.

“Told you so.”, you grinned triumphantly at her as you started running next to each other, there was still a bit of time to play in the game.

During an injury break she whispered into your ear, her voice being raspy from the match sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

“I still hate being told what to do. Except in the bedroom but that’s a different story.”

“Oh, you do, huh? I’ll keep that in mind tonight.”, you answered in a teasingly tone.

“Girls, we’ve children on the pitch please keep that in mind.”, Marta intervened chuckling.

“I’m 18 now that means I’m an adult, Marta.”, Vicky protested.

“How did you even hear this?”, Alexia asked the older teammate.

“That’s my secret.”, she winked conspiratorial.

“Anyways. We still have some more minutes to play.”, the blonde reminded everyone.

“Yes, let’s keep focused and not think about tonight.”, you agreed smiling when you noticed your girlfriend shudder at the hinting of later. Tonight sounded like a promise to her.

“Yes, come on, girls.”, she nervously redid her ponytail.

“What did you say to our capi?”, Ona wanted to know curiously after the final whistle.

“Oh, nothing just what we’ll have for dinner.”, you shrugged laughing.

“Alright. I understand.”, the younger defender exchanged a knowing look between you.

Alexia raised her eyebrows and echoed: “Dinner?“

You shrugged with an innocent smile: “Yes, you looked very hungry.“

“I am in fact.“, she winked, playing along.

“Don’t worry, we’ll satisfy your hunger later.“, you laughed and got back into position.

You watched Alexia bite down on her lower lip: “Can’t wait.“

Stifling a laugh, you tried to focus back on the game without thinking too hard about the flirty sound of Alexias voice.

For the first time, you couldn’t wait for the referee to finally blow her whistle and end the game.

Ever since your girlfriend started teasing you mid-game, you felt this pulling sensation in your lower half. Maybe Alexia wasn’t the only one that needed to satisfy a craving.

You walked the perimeter of the football pitch, applauding and thanking the fans for their support when all you wanted to do was go home.

Alexia caught up with you, finally done with signing jerseys and taking selfies.

“Ready to go home?“, you asked.

She nodded, tired but happy: “Very ready.“

“Bye, girls.“, you waved to your teammates who slowly got ready to leave the stadium as well.

Ona gave you a meaningful smile and plainly said: “Enjoy.“

“Thanks.“, you grinned at her before turning to your girlfriend. She was already busy waving to the crowds again. “Come on, Ale.“

“Coming. Goodbye, Mapi.“

“Bye, girls.“, the defender waved with the arm she didn’t have around Ingrid.

You have never been more grateful that Alexia only lived a few minutes away from the stadium. When you finally reached her doorstep, you let out a sigh: “Home.“

“Finally.“, your girlfriend agreed as she unlocked the door and let you go inside first.

You smirked, dropping your bag on the floor and slipped out of your shoes: “Someone’s impatient.“

She didn’t deny it. Instead she flung the door closed and bridged the gap between the two of you, pushing you up against the wall.

“I think I waited long enough.“, she murmured into your ear. Her breath was hot against your skin, her hands trying to find their way under your shirt.

You bit back a moan and gently pushed her away: “Go to the bedroom. I’ll be coming soon.“

The suggestive nature of the last sentence wasn’t lost on you.

Alexia obediently followed your instruction. She was already in her underwear when you rejoined her in her bedroom.

And she hadn’t gained any more patience. She continued where you had left off.

Putting her lips on yours, she pushed you backwards onto her bed with such force that you bounced on the mattress.

You laughed as she kneeled over you, her lips exploring your body, leaving sweet kisses all over your naked skin. Her hands cupped your breasts, drawing small circles with her thumbs.

Every touch filled you with more anticipation. You arched your back, making sure she didn’t take too much time, making sure she knew that you couldn’t wait any longer.

Finally, she moved her hand between your thighs. First, slowly rubbing before she slipped her long fingers inside, curling them extremely effectively.

It didn’t take long until you sighed in blissful relief.

You had gotten what you craved. About time to satisfy Alexias hunger next.

Unlike her you knew you’d take your time with her. First you let your gaze wander at the midfielder’s sight in front of you after you helped her slipping out of the sports bra. She was looking back at you with almost a bit of a shyness biting her lips. A slight blush was creeping on her high cheekbones.

“Don’t let me wait for too long.”, Alexia whispered as you made your way from kissing her mouth to the vein on to her neck to her collarbone, while she shivered pleasantly under your touches.

“Where do you want me to touch you?”, you asked innocently.

The blonde replied with an eyeroll which could only be read as are you serious you know the answer to it.

Despite her impatience you continued your trail of kisses through her body until you reached her pants which you took off in one move, it was already a bit wet.

Softly you parted her legs before you used your mouth to lick first slowly than faster till you heard her moan from pleasure.

The different story had unfolded right here in the bed sheets and you both wouldn’t have it any other way.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso oneshot #woso #woso community #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #woso smut #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas fanfic #futfem #fcb femeni

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chilumi-shipper · 10 hours

Text

Soulbound

Zhongli x GN!Reader (Soulmate!AU)

Summary: Zhongli hated the mark on his neck, and he hated whoever the mark bounded him to. But fate plays a cruel joke, matching him with you, as he swore he would love no one else but Guizhong.

Tags: Angst/No Comfort, Short Story, Rejection, Hurtful Words, Hatred to Love

Soulmark - A mark that binds two individuals as soulmates.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Morax had always been frustrated by the mark on his neck.

A glowing, permanent part of his body that marks him tied to a soulmate. He thinks its stupid, for the love of his life was already in front of him, a gray-haired inventor that no carving in his body could ever stop him from adoring.

He finds it unbelievable that his neck is claimed by a soulmark yet Guizhong's remain blank, and he curses Celestia above for such a foul joke.

How could he be for anyone else but her?

When her dust settled in the field of glaze lilies he thought were incomparable to her beauty, he was utterly devasted, his clawed hands held onto his neck, wanting to rip the soulmark that had been taunting him for centuries.

How could he be marked for someone else while the love of his life laid lifeless?

He loathed his mark, everything about it, and he will till his last breath.

...

Zhongli deeply dislikes you.

You are a messy, silly, babbling buffoon.

An adventurer from Mondstadt that embodies the nation's will of freedom. Bubbly, carefree, and loud, much like a fellow god he didn't particularly like.

Despite of his disdain of you, your affection towards him never wavered. You filled his somber days with excitement as you joyfully tell him stories about your adventures, share some new recipes you've learned, even ushering him to talk about obscure Liyue historical facts that you've always found interesting.

He was much too proper to shoo you away, and his cold looks and short responses didn't discourage you to try to make friends with the man that peeked your curiosity.

Ever so slowly, you had pried open his caged heart, planting a small seed that was so distinctly you.

He would have accepted you, he would have seen you as a friend... and yet...

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a faint, familiar mark on your neck, revealed when you put your hair up into a ponytail.

Zhongli knew he truly disliked you.

...

"I don't believe in the marks either, Mr. Zhongli..." You reasoned with him, but his gaze still stung you with daggers.

He caged himself back up, ensuring that you could not care for the little seed you planted, no light would be able to reach it again.

His heart would not open...

No matter how many times he catches himself smiling at your antics.

No matter if he displays every gift and trinket you give him from your travels.

No matter how much he preferred your cooking over anyone else's.

No matter how beautiful you look staring up at him with your doe eyes as you confess your affection.

No matter how frustrated he felt at himself when he made you cry as he rejects your feelings.

Because, for him, how could there be anyone else but her?

...

"Do you see why it could never be you?"

You both stood in front of a monument, surrounded by various plants and objects you assume to be from friends of this ancient goddess.

"I bet she was amazing."

"She was perfect. Perhaps that's why I was not worthy to share a mark with her."

At this point, you were used to his words, how they praise her, how they degrade you.

"You're pretty great too, Zhongli..."

Faith places identical marks on the necks of two soulmates, and the rest is a romantic story of the passion that builds up as people pursue their marks of love.

Fate is cruel to you and him.

"That mark is not for you, Y/N." The Geo Archon says to you, tearing you apart silently, as you stand and take his words.

His heart quivers despite the harsh words coming from his own mouth. Even after millennia of having the mark engraved on his neck, after concluding that maybe he would allow your little seed to prosper even just for a bit, he still chooses to cling onto his hopeless past.

Tears fall down from your eyes, but you remain quiet, only nodding in agreement.

You loathed the mark on your neck.

...

Zhongli opens the cage of his heart a little, allowing him to peak at the small sprout from the seed you planted.

So distinctly you, it was the only thing he has of you.

After letting you leave him at Guizhong's monument with tears still staining your face, he couldn't help but miss you.

He couldn't help but let you finally take your place in his heart, after so long of hating his soulmark, hating whoever the mark tied him to, he fears he has finally accepted faith.

...

"Where is it?" He grips your arm harshly, his hold not faltering as you try to shake him off. His gaze was cold, yet you could still catch the hint of alarm in his eyes. "What have you done?"

After weeks... you return to him... missing something.

You winced at the stress of his words, feeling frightened under his tense hold. "I..." His bruising grip didn't falter, urging you to explain yourself. "S-Surprise...?"

"You..." Zhongli looks at you in disbelief. "How stupid could you be?"

"M-Mr. Zhongli... it's a blessing of the Anemo Archon... I prayed for him set us free from fate."

"Y/N... I..." He was at a loss for words, his heart ached as his eyes searched your neck in vain. "Fate... going against it is painful. It must've been excruciating."

"It was... but this if for you, Zhongli..." You smiled, feeling him loosen his grip. "Because I love... loved you." You fully free yourself from him, rubbing at where he previously held you.

The wind around him picked up, and he hears the faint whispers of an old friend along with it. Whispers of comfort, as he clearly ruined what would have been the light of the rest of his days.

Your soulmark fades, but his remains...

Zhongli loathed his mark, for it bears no meaning, no one but him bears that mark.

As you leave, trying to fade away in the background of his life, you remain under a spotlight in his eyes, for you will always be the one that shares his mark, no matter if it is visible.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

What y'all think of this one? :3

I bet y'all's feelings were hurt hehe

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact #genshin impact angst #genshin angst #genshin impact zhongli #genshin zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli angst

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pretentious-blonde · 2 days

Text

patched up

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: you help remus clean up after the full moon, reminding him once again how much he is loved, even if he thinks he is underserving

warnings: cuts, wounds, physical pain

a/n: all i write is hurt/comfort, and I'm not even mad

Remus sat on the old leather couch, a book in his hand that just couldn’t seem to grasp his attention. His free fingers traced small circles on your legs, which you had ungracefully thrown over his own as you lounged together in the living room. It was still early, just coming up for noon, you both were aware of the time. Even if the knowledge was unspoken.

It was the full moon tonight, and despite the routine that you both had become familiar with, the boy couldn’t shake the nerves that coiled and twisted inside of him.

You pretended not to notice what he was doing, glancing at the door every couple of minutes, waiting for the inevitable knock. James and Sirius would arrive any moment now, take him away, far away for yet another transformation. You were used to it by now.

One thing that was always constant was that they had always been there for him, he appreciated that, but he hated leaving you. Especially when you gave him that soft, reassuring smile. Like everything would be fine. Like everything was fine.

“Rem,” you spoke softly, catching those big, brown eyes. His body was tense beneath you.

“I’m alright, dove,” he gave you a weak smile, his fingers stopping their patterns to give your calf a light squeeze. “Just… you know.”

And you did know. Painfully so.

You nodded, understanding him completely. You were about to speak more, but were interrupted by the shrill ring of the doorbell. He stiffened even more at the sound. Hand stilling.

He sighed and closed the book, setting it aside. His gaze moved to the hand on your leg, not wanting to move it, wanting to keep the inevitable away for just a second longer.

“It’s time,” he tells you quietly, like he does every month. His voice carried a sadness that he couldn’t hide completely.

You place your hand on top of his own, your smile gentle but knowing. “I’ll be right here. Waiting for you to get back, okay?”

He stood up, pulling you with him, tall body towering over your own. He let his hand linger on the small of your back as you both headed to the front door. When he opened it, James and Sirius stood waiting outside, both smiling softly as they knew what was to come. The car behind them was still running, headlights cutting through the fog, casting a warm glow behind them.

“Hey, mate,” James begins, smiling up at Remus. “You ready?”

Sirius leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest, his usual smirk missing from his face. “We’re ready when you are,” he said. His voice light in an attempt to ease your boyfriend’s nerves. “If you need a breather before we go, just say the word.”

Remus shook his head, he would rather just get this over and done with, no more stalling. You could feel the stress in his body increase as the hand on your waist held on a little tighter.

Sirius, sensing the clear tension that settled heavily in the air, finally cracked a smile. “Don’t worry,” he waved his hand in front of him. “You’ll be back here with your girl before you know it.” He said, winking in your direction.

James also turns his attention to you, giving you a mock salute, “He is in safe hands, don’t you fret.”

“And we won’t allow him to get too grumpy when we return him,” Sirius added, side-eyeing the man standing next to you. Remus runs a hand over his face at their teasing.

You rolled your eyes and gave them a half-glare, happy that they were trying to keep things light.

“I trust you both,” you say, tone teasing but nonetheless truthful. “Bring him back in one piece.”

James nods. “You have our word.”

Remus lets out a small, grateful smile before turning his attention back to you. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, allowing his hand to linger on your cheek for a moment. “I’ll be back tomorrow evening, darling. I promise,” he tells you, his gaze was intense. The act of leaving you now was painful.

You leaned forward and hugged him tightly, his own long arms wrapping around you immediately. Secure and firm, he never wanted to let go.

“I know you will,” you whispered into his chest, voice muffled by his worn jumper. “I’ll be here.”

Remus reluctantly loosened his embrace, kissing your forehead gently as he allowed himself to linger.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he murmured as he held your chin. Warm, tired eyes burrowing into your own. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you say quickly. He already knew that but—god—did it feel good to hear you say it back. He turned towards the car behind him, giving you a small wave before climbing in.

Remus settled into the back seat as the other two slid into the front. He watched you as the car sped away, trying to push down the knots his stomach was tying. Sirius leaned back, tossing him a lighthearted grin from the passenger seat.

“Come on, Moony,” Sirius said, trying to help him relax. “It’s just another moon. We have done this hundreds of times now.”

"Another moon, another miserable night,” Remus grumbled, no longer having the will to fake a smile. You weren’t there anymore.

James glanced back from the driver’s seat, a sympathetic look now in his eyes. “You’ll be alright, mate. Besides, from the way you’re moping, I’d say you’re just lovesick.”

“Definitely lovesick,” Sirius said, nodding his head in agreement.

Remus sighed, staring out the trees flying past the window. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I am. I’m damn lucky to be.”

James and Sirius exchanged a quick, knowing look, but didn’t tease him further. Remus just wanted to get through this—so he could go back to the one person who made everything else worth it.

Remus tried his hardest to be silent when he entered, opening the door gently to lessen the loud creak, his movements were slow and heavy as he stepped inside. It was late—much later than he intended to be—every inch of his tired body screamed in protest at the slightest movement. He winced as a sharp pain shot through his ribcage, having to reach out and steady himself against the wall, closing the door behind him.

It had been bad this time. Really bad. James and Sirius had confirmed it, as if the fresh wounds couldn’t tell him that already. Their concerned faces still clear in his memory.

The cuts on his body were deep—deeper than usual—one stretching across his chest, another on his arm, and a particularly nasty one that covered the side of his face. He had no recollection of how he acquired them, but they offered a fresh reminder of what he was. What he could become.

He trudged up the stairs, each step more painful than the last, eventually making his way to the bathroom. He avoided the mirror, the last thing he wanted to see was his reflection—the scars, the bandages, the tired eyes that always seemed more hollow after the events of a full moon. He quickly redressed the lacerations on his torso, delaying touching the one on his cheek.

He didn’t want to see what it looked like, but he had no choice. He needed to change it. He would just have to do it fast.

Glancing up quickly, he caught a brief glimpse of himself. He felt the air knocked out of his lungs. Immediately he looked away, biting down another wave of familiar self-loathing that flowed through him.

He hated this—hated how he looked, how his body was always going to be a physical reminder of how cursed he was. How much of a monster he was.

With shaky hands, he removed a bandage from its plastic casing, placing it on his face as swiftly as he could. He pulled out a loose set of pyjamas and quickly slipped them on his aching body, just wanting to crawl into bed and pretend the previous night never happened.

He opened the door to your shared bedroom and paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of your sleeping figure. You were lying peacefully on your side of the bed, the soft rise and fall of your chest, the sound of your breathing drew him closer to you.

He paused before he got in, just standing there for a moment, taking you in, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips for the first time in over twenty-four hours. He loved you. God, he loved you. The one thing in his life he would never get near his tribulation. The one thing that kept him going.

Carefully, he slipped in next to you, taking extra care not to rouse you. The ache in his arms flared up as he pulled back the heavy duvet, but he forced himself to ignore it. After all, what was a little discomfort when he could be close to you?

He shuffled closer, wincing at the pain that shot through his muscles, but it appeared to melt into the background as he felt your warmth permeate his skin.

For a moment, he was content just laying there next to you, watching you sleep. If you were awake you would probably call him a creep. He stifled a chuckle at the image that formed in his mind.

His heart ached—not from the wounds or exhaustion he had sustained, but from the overwhelming combination of emotions he felt for you. He hoped you were sleeping well, lord knows he wouldn’t be. Not with the soreness that was coursing through his drained body, but his own well-being didn’t concern him right now. What mattered was that he was here, with you.

With a soft sigh, he gently pulled your sleeping form closer to him, his arms trembling slightly with the strain. The throbbing in his chest flared up again, but he ignored it. Instead, he buried his face in your hair and let the steady sound of your breathing soothe him. He kissed the top of your head, whispering into the silent room.

“I’m home, love,” he murmured, voice almost inaudible as sleep began to pull him under. “Promised I would be.”

The first thing you felt when you stirred was a familiar warmth, strong arms wrapped around you, and for a brief moment, your heart swelled with relief. He was back. He always came back to you. But every time he managed to crawl back home you couldn’t help but worry if it would be worse than the last time. You shifted slightly, turning in his embrace in order to get a better look at him—that’s when you noticed.

The fresh bandages, hastily applied, peeked out from his long sleeve, another covering the side of his face. You ached for him at the sight of them. You pulled your arms from beneath the duvet, reaching out to touch the dressing. Your fingers hovered just above it, pausing mid-air as you stopped yourself. The last thing you wanted to do was hurt him more. You didn’t know what lay beneath them.

You wriggled out of his hold, taking additional time and care so as to not wake the man sleeping soundly next to you. He needed the rest. You were certain he would be in pain as soon as he rose, and as much as the idea of staying in his arms sounded heavenly, you decided to make yourself useful.

Padding quietly to the kitchen, odd socks on your feet, you grab two cups from the cupboard above your head. You had to go on your tiptoes to reach them. Usually, Remus would insist on getting them for you—he had once seen you clamber up onto the counter and it nearly gave him a heart attack—but he was preoccupied today.

The kettle bubbled softly as you pulled out the jar of tea, along with the packet of biscuits—chocolate, of course, his preferred choice. You prepared it in the way he taught you, letting it brew for a good couple of minutes before removing the teabag, pouring in a healthy glug of milk. You returned to the bedroom, steaming mugs in hand and the packet of biscuits under your arm.

The brunette began to stir at the soft crackle of plastic as you placed the treats on the bedside table, holding your own mug close to your chest as you sat on the floor beside the bed. You watched his eyes as they fluttered open.

“Hey,” you whispered, tilting your head to the side to look at him horizontally. “How are you feeling?”

He winced as he shifted over, his body still unbearably sore. His tired eyes met yours, and despite everything, he managed to give you a faint smile. It was hard not to when you looked at him like that.

“I’ve been better,” he replied, his voice husky with sleep.

You shook your head at his attempts to downplay his clear discomfort, trying to mask the worry in your eyes that was surely present.

“I made you tea,” you gesture to the cup next to you, pale wisps dancing around the top of it. He liked it hot, straight from the kettle. It amazed you how he could handle drinking it so fast. “And your favourite.”

“I’m a lucky man,” he said as he sat up, voice slightly strained as he finished his sentence. He reached out and dipped the biscuit in his mug, making a sound of relief as he popped it into his mouth, allowing the rich flavour to melt over his tongue.

He took a sip of his tea, sleeve rolling up slightly as he leant over, bandage visible. You didn’t want to mention how poorly they had been applied, you didn’t want to remind him. But it had to be done, for his sake.

“Rem,” you began gently, not wanting to upset him. “You need to change those.”

Immediately, he stiffened, his body pausing mid-sip. He loathed this part—being looked after and the vulnerability that came with it.

“Do I?” He muttered, voice lacking the spark it had when he woke up, clearly embarrassed at your statement.

You nodded solemnly, cringing at the discomfort in his eyes. “It might get infected,” you tell him. “You’re tired. Let me help you, please?”

He hesitated for a moment, an internal battle occurring in his head, before giving you one of his kind smiles. “Alright,” he responded, trying to keep the sadness from his voice. “Can I finish my tea first?”

You giggled, worry easing just a little. “Of course,” you say, nodding your head. “We’ll do it after.”

He placed his soon-empty cup on the side next to him, sighing heavily as he nodded to you. “Alright, love,” he said reluctantly. “I’m ready.”

You stand up slowly, reaching out to take his hesitant hand, leading him towards the bathroom. He traced your knuckles with his thumb as you both continued down the hallway. When you opened the door, he immediately hopped up on the counter silently. Ignoring the mirror and instead choosing to look down at his lap.

The first aid kit was under the sink, a pack that you always kept fully stocked. You quickly grabbed it before returning to your place in front of him, standing in between his spread legs. Your heart felt heavy at how exhausted he looked. How broken. But you refused to let him see that. He didn’t need to worry about you being worried about him. He had enough to deal with as it is.

“Can I take your jumper off?” You ask him softly, afraid of raising your voice. You needed to take care of him, and from the looks of it, he wanted to be as far away from this situation as possible.

His eyes left his lap and locked with yours. For a second, he looked as though he might say something, but instead, he just nodded. Words seemingly too hard to form right now.

You tried to keep your hands steady as you reached out, gently pulling the fabric over his head, keeping the material as far away from his body as you removed it. You folded up the material and placed it to the side, allowing him to get more comfortable with his bare skin showing before you gave him your attention again. But nothing could have prepared you for what you saw.

Bandages—there were so many of them, scattered haphazardly across his torso and arms. Each one was a significant reminder of what he had been through the previous night. You swallowed hard, putting on a brave face as you knew he was watching your every movement.

“You ready?” You asked, needing verbal confirmation as you knew this was going to hurt. Not just him, but yourself as well.

His lips twitched up into a half-smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he quipped, trying to take the edge off, but the pain was clear in his low voice.

You peeled off the dressings, not earning a large reaction from the boy sitting in front of you. Most of them had become unstuck as he slept, making your job easier. You reached for the cloth and antiseptic, deciding to start with the easier gashes first. Your touch was diligent and gentle as you cleaned him, dabbing carefully at the blood and dirt that clung to his skin.

He must have been shattered last night to skip this. That fact made you even more determined to fix this. To fix him. You couldn’t offer much, but you would do whatever you thought would help. Every few minutes, you’d glance up, wordlessly checking on him. Waiting for the swift bob of his head as he urges you to keep going.

“Am I hurting you?” You knew the answer already, but you needed to know how much.

“Only a little,” he lied, a faint smirk appearing on his face. “I’ve been though worse, dove.”

You roll your eyes at his ill attempt of humour, but at least he was able to crack a joke. That was a good sign.

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” you murmered as you pressed down on a particularly nasty cut, earning a small hiss from him. You hurried up when you heard the noise, not wanting to be the one behind his torture.

Finally, you turned your attention to the injury on his face, the angry red line that ran from his collarbone all the way up to his cheek. The sight of it yanked at your heartstrings and you knew you failed to mask your reaction, his body stiffened. Eyes darting away from yours as he attempted to look away. You caught his chin before he could withdraw into himself, forcing him to look at you.

Big, doe eyes filled with guilt, shame even, and it devastated you. He cleared his throat with a sharp cough, his voice gravely. “You shouldn’t have to do this,” he muttered, gaze dropping again despite the grip on his chin. “You shouldn’t—have to take care of me like this.”

You removed your hold on him, allowing both of your hands to continue working, dabbing gently as his mouth curled at the stinging sensation. “Remus,” you whispered, your voice filled with compassion. “I want to take care of you. I love taking care of you.”

He shook his head slightly, the conversation paining him more than your actions. “You’re too good to me,” he tells you, his voice monotone as if he was just speaking a fact. “Look at me, darling. I’m—I’m a mess.”

You smiled at the angelic boy in front of you and placed a kiss on his cheekbone, just above the cut. He really couldn’t see what you saw. How his friends saw in him. How he treated you all. He was the most selfless person you had ever met, going above and beyond for each and every person he cared for.

It wasn’t a skill that could be taught. It was innate. It was Remus. Always had been.

“You’re not a mess,” you say firmly. “You are mine. I love you—every scar, every mark, every part of you.”

You saw his throat bod as he swallowed, his eyes slightly glass as he stared at you. He always struggled to allow people to give him affection, not believing he deserved it. He didn’t know where to put all the love you gave him. It always felt unworthy of it.

But in that moment, just the two of you in the cramped bathroom, illuminated by the small ceiling bulb. It felt right. Your fingers brushing over his scars, some fresher, some older, he thought maybe…just maybe. It would all be alright.

You finish the last dressing, smoothing it over his skin with the same tenderness you treated all the others. “All done,” you tell him, feeling proud of your handiwork.

Remus lets out a relieved chuckle at your pride. “I’d say you’ve missed your calling, love. Should’ve been a nurse.”

“Oh yeah?” You laugh, feeling the tension leave the room. “Maybe I’ll change careers.”

“I take it back,” he says quickly, eyes softening with affection. “I want you all to myself. I’m selfish.”

“Well, you’re in luck. I have the whole of today off,” you say, throwing the used bandages and their wrappers into the bin by the door. “We can do whatever you want.”

He raised an eyebrow, your words tempting him. “Anything?”

“Yep, anything at all,” you nod at him. “Within your...physical capabilities,” you quickly add. There is no way that would be happening in his condition.

“Well you’re no fun,” Remus frowns playfully, mischief still swimming in his eyes. “But I’m sure I can come up with something riveting for the both of us.”

You put your hands on your hips, assuming a determined stance. “I’m ready for whatever you’ve got in mind.”

He hums, pleased with your statement, lowering himself down from the counter and pulling his jumper back on. Grimacing as it brushes his skin. He motions for you to follow him into the living room, watching as he winces as he sits down on the couch, his face briefly tightening in pain. But then, true to form, he opens his wide arms and looks at you expectantly. “Come on then.”

You go to take a step forward but hesitate. You would love nothing more than to drape yourself over him, but the sight of his bandages stops you. “I don’t want to hurt you…”

A look of warmth crossed his face, shaking his head with a tender smile. “It’ll hurt more if you don’t let me hold you, darling. Come on.”

You can’t help but melt at his kind words, you gently ease yourself onto the couch, mindful of his injuries and not putting your full weight on him. His arms encase you instantly, pulling you impossibly closer despite the clear discomfort it caused him.

“You’re stubborn, you know that?” You scold him, your cheek resting on his chest, mindful of the dressing on the opposite side.

“Stubborn? No.” He quips, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Hopelessly in love? Maybe.”

You giggle, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath you in a steady rhythm. “A bit of both, I think.”

It’s his turn now to chuckle, his tired bones relaxing further into the soft cushions. “You might be right.”

You both just lie there in a comfortable silence, the sound of the world beginning to wake up outside only added to the ambience. He was at peace with you In his embrace, glancing down at you as you gazed at him softly. Fingers tracing gentle circles on an unharmed piece of his chest.

“So…” you begin, continuing your motions. “Any grand idea for today?”

He shakes his head, stopping to meet your eyes, lips curling into a lazy smile. “Honestly? Just this. Just you.” His voice is playful but his words have never been more true. “Don’t need anything else.”

“Smooth,” you say sarcastically, suppressing a smirk of your own.

“I’m serious, love,” he chuckles. “I can’t think of a better way to spend today.”

Your heart soared at his words, you carefully shifted to cup his face. “I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

He pushes himself further into your palm, eyes closing for the briefest of moments, his hand coming up to cover your own. “Have I mentioned that you’re too good for me?” He tries to make it sound like a joke, but the familiar self-doubt can still be heard in his voice.

“Unfortunately, far too much,” you playfully glare. “You stubborn man.”

He reopens his eyes, now filled with an overwhelming amount of affection. It almost takes your breath away.

“Then I’m sure you’ve heard me say how lucky I am as well,” he teases, his expression never faltering.

“I’m the lucky one,” you grin cheekily, brushing back a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “My boyfriend makes an excellent cup of tea.”

“Is that all I’m here for?” He asks in mock offence, pulling you flush against him, despite the twinge of pain it caused. “Keeping me around for my tea-making skills?”

“Exactly,” you nestle your head against him.

At that moment, everything felt right to him. Just the two of you, safe, together. Nothing else mattered to him apart from the girl in his arms. He knows the pain will linger—the scars, the transformations, all of it. But with you—his anchor—it feels just about bearable. And for the first time in a long time. He allows himself to feel hope. The hope of your future together.

#remus #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin headcanon #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin angst #remus lupin fluff #harry potter #harry potter x reader #marauders x reader #marauders fluff

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froggiewrites · 3 days

Note

hi I had another idea for a request! dealer’s choice on the character(s) (but if you’re stuck for an idea maybe law?), but maybe the reader gets hurt in a fight and their (slightly in denial about being in love) future love interest nurses them back to health? can be fluff or smut or whatever you want I’m not picky I just love seeing your words

thank you I still love your work please keep it up

This request is from @toadmakes, on anon since it's her sideblog! I thought this idea was so sweet, so I just made a really fluffy, self indulgent little piece. Also, I let Law be cool last time I wrote about him so of course I had to make him a flustered little nerd in this one. I hope you enjoy it!!

A Helping Hand

Pairing: Law x Reader

SFW

Summary: You get hurt protecting Law, and he's not pleased. Warnings: Fluff, Lots of Banter, Very Little Hurt/Lots of Comfort Word Count: 1.3k

You don’t remember throwing yourself in front of Law, or being carried back to the Tang. You don’t remember the screams of your friends, or the shaking hands that so carefully bandaged you back up. But that’s alright, because they were all too eager to tell you how stupid you had been once you came to.

“–disgustingly irresponsible! Not to mention unnecessary! What good reason could there possibly have been to do that?” Law is the most furious you’ve ever heard him, and you fear it may be because he’s the most scared you’ve ever heard him. You don’t know how close of a call it was, but you know you hurt all over, and his eyes are shining with something someone who didn’t know better might confuse with tears.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt.” You try not to say it like an excuse or a plea. It’s simply fact.

His eyes shoot away from yours. You swear you see a hint of red on his cheeks, but just as quickly as you notice it, it’s gone. He clicks his tongue with displeasure before continuing. “I wasn’t going to get hurt. I could have very easily moved out of the way. You–” he sighs. “Don’t do anything like that again.”

“Well I don’t think I’ll be doing it anytime soon.” You try to give him a wry grin, but it turns more into a grimace as you shift, pain shooting through you. You’re covered head to toe in bandages, every part of you sore and bruised. You’re surprised you’re upright and conscious right now, honestly. “Can I get some painkillers?”

“You’re on enough to take down a horse.”

“But it still hurts.” You pout, and he grits his teeth and looks away from you again.

“Yeah. Almost dying tends to do that.” Even with the gruffness in his voice and face, his hands are gentle as they begin to fuss with your bandages, checking over every inch of you to ensure you’ve been properly taken care of. You could swear he hesitates slightly at checking the bandages around your thighs and chest, but he perserveres, ever the professional. You wince a few times when his hands brush a particularly tender spot, yelping when he makes slight contact with your ribs. He fiddles with the IV in your arm, and you feel a flood of relaxation and relief hit you. Looks like he found a reason to give you more painkillers after all. “You’re going to be out of commission for a long while, y’know.”

“How long?”

“At least six weeks, but probably longer.”

“What?”

“That’s nothing compared to what it could be. You have a couple broken ribs, not to mention all of the cuts and bruises. You’re lucky your organs weren’t crushed.”

“Can’t you like…shambles it away?”

“No.” His voice is flat. You look at him with wide, pleading eyes, and he scoffs at you. “Well, more like I won’t.”

“Why not?”

“If I just fix it you’ll run off and do it again, and next time you might not be so lucky.”

“Oh…so you’re just worried about me?” You giggle, filled with warmth at the idea. And maybe the pain meds. “You could just say so.”

“That’s not–” he lets out a soft choked sound when he realizes there’s no way to deny it without insisting he doesn’t care about you. As grumpy as he can be sometimes, he would never say something so unkind. Not to you. “Shut up.”

“Hey Captain?” You feel your tongue loosening with things you would never say, but you’re too out of it to stop yourself.

“Yes?”

“Do you like me?”

There’s definitely a flush to his cheeks now. “What?”

“I think you like me. A lot.”

“I–No!”

“You don’t like me?” Your voice cracks a little, tears coming far too quickly. Whatever he gave you is powerful stuff.

“That’s not–I–agh!” He roughly runs his fingers through his hair, desperately avoiding eye contact with you. “I like you. As a crewmate.”

You puff your cheeks out a bit with displeasure. “That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“I’ll believe you if you look at me.”

“I am looking at you.”

“You’re looking at the headboard over my shoulder, Captain.”

His eyes flick to yours, and he turns an even more brilliant shade of scarlet. “I li–” His shoulders tense and he suddenly shoots up and turns away from you. “I can’t believe I’m arguing with you about this. You’re high off your ass. I bet you won’t even remember this when you wake up tomorrow.” You can see the tips of his ears burning as he gathers his things and prepares to leave.

“You’re gonna abandon me?”

“I have work to do!”

“I’m a patient, I am work!”

His voice is rising with frustration. “You’re already set up, what else is there to do?”

“I don’t know, Captain, I’m not the doctor here!” You try to raise your arm to reach out to him, only to let out a soft whine when you can barely move it.

“Please stop trying to use your broken bones.” He comes closer to gently hold your arm down, concern clear.

“It doesn’t feel broken.”

“It will soon.”

“You’re gonna let me hurt? On purpose? You’re so mean to me, Captain.”

He sighs. His thumb starts rubbing small circles onto your hand, though he doesn’t seem conscious of the action. “If I fix you up, do you promise not to do anything like that again?”

“No.”

The affectionate movements stop. “What?”

“I can’t promise that. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m strong, I can take a little pain.”

“But I don’t want you to.” You know you sound petulant and childish, but you can’t stop yourself. “I don’t want you to hurt at all, I don’t care if you can handle it. You shouldn’t have to.”

“So you should?”

“Yes.”

“That’s stupid.”

You huff. “You’re stupid.”

He can’t help but break into a rare laugh, a chuckle that rumbles through him and makes your heart skip a beat. He doesn’t seem to realize he’s lost himself until he looks up to see you staring at him, eyes wide and cheeks red, mouth slightly agape. “What?”

“I really like you, Captain.”

He grows horribly flustered, but for once he doesn’t pull away from you. He keeps looking you in the eye, even as every part of him screams to run and avoid his embarrassment. “You do?” His tone is heart-wrenchingly hopeful.

“I do. So, so much. You’re the most beautiful and wonderful person in the world.” You can feel your smile grow dopey and lovesick. “I’d take a million hits for you. A billion, even.”

“What if it’d make me happier if you didn’t take any hits at all?”

“Then I would say you shouldn’t have let me join your crew. Getting hit is part of the job. But that’s okay. You’re worth it.” You lean forward, begging him for a single touch, since you currently can’t lift your arms. You can feel your eyes drooping, but you fight to keep them open long enough to receive what you want.

He sighs, but you can see the affectionate smile creeping onto his face. “You’re insufferable,” he mutters, resting a hand against your cheek so tenderly you could weep. “Get some rest. I’ll fix you up in the morning.”

You hum as he uses his palm to gently push you back down, his other hand on your shoulders to recline you slightly. You’re fading fast, finally losing your fight with sleep, but before you go, you swear you feel the ghost of his lips against your forehead.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece

#law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #one piece x reader #law x you #law x y/n #trafalgar law #one piece

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starrysharks · 14 hours

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reassassination swap AU... fuckin.... unassassination idfk

#zeno's art #ocs #reassassination #vivica de la crux #octavia krankenstein #dr krankenstein #lunette strikewhite #WEEE this one is fun #vivi is obv swapped with octavia #so she's less skittish and crazy and eager to please and more calm . still judgy as fuck tho #octavia is swapped with kranken so instead of being cool and badass she's got several screws loose #triesto seem calm and collected but really shes obsessive n overworked and unstable and a littttle bit of a total freakazoid #kranken is swapped with .... idk. lets just say the krankenstein clinic takes the role of the clear crucifix org #like instead of a clinic its a whole hospital now where kranken does crazy experiments and shit and isn't questioned cuz hes so respected #i think he was prob like canon krank before lobotomising himself so now hes just scarily quiet and soulless #but still a sadist lol #like hurting others is the only way he can feel any emotion now #lunette is swapped with umm ONCE AGAIN IDK!!! oh well. her cult replaces the clinic here #her personality is the most similar to canon shes just a bit more desperate and a little insecure #for other characters - onion is like ummm idk a wannabe scientist #if octavia is kranken's apprentice onion is octavia's #hmm idk #but i love this AU #in fact ive had it for a while i just never posted about it i dont think #but redesigning everyone was fun esp vivica's outfit its my absolute fave

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rafecameronsslut4ever · 17 hours

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MISS YOU — rafe cameron (smut, angst, nsfw)

pairing; ex-boyfriend!rafe cameron x fem!reader summary: years after your breakup, rafe cameron crawls back into your life when he realises that you might have started moving on. a/n: omg this was so long i think i got carried away warnings: smut 18+, a LOT of angst, mdni, fingering, oral (f receiving), name calling, unprotected sex.

He does not knock.

Rafe Cameron barges into your dimly lit apartment instead of knocking the door and allowing you to let him in. He walks right past you, ignoring the frown on your face, and collapses down on your couch.

His shoulders are relaxed, arms stretched out along the back of the couch as he settles in and looks around your apartment.

His blue eyes are dart everywhere, but they don’t meet yours. His veiny hands are tapping away on his thighs—the same hands that used to envelope yours perfectly.

His blonde hair is longer than it was when you two were together—they're curling over his forehead. The length is almost too long, it makes him look shaggy, and yet it suits him nevertheless.

Your fists clench. Suddenly, the warmth of your home has vanished because of his presence.

"Are you going to stand there all night?" His voice is raspy and rough, almost as if he had just woken up, but you can tell from his red eyes and the dark circles underneath that he hasn't slept a wink.

"What do you want, Rafe?"

He finally turns his gaze to you, and the sight makes your knees go weak. You want to sit down next to him and bury your head into his chest, but you know that can't happen anymore.

He stands up, making you take a step back. You don't miss the hurt look in his eyes, but he hides it quickly and walks towards you.

The light coming out of the television playing in the background illuminates Rafe's face, his jawline sharp and his lips pulled in a soft frown.

He walks past you, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

"What the hell?" You murmur, following him as he walks towards the kitchen.

He halts to a stop and you stand behind him, feeling like a mouse in his tall presence. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

He rolls his eyes and turns around to face you. His eyes stare into yours, resulting in the formation of a lump in your throat as your eyes meet for the first time in years.

“Who is he?” Rafe asks bitterly, his eyes not leaving your face. “The guy you were with yesterday at the Golf Club. Even better, where is he?"

Yesterday, your date made a reservation at the Golf Club for your first date, and the smug part of you had wished the Rafe saw the two of you together—which he apparently did.

You had a good time with the boy. He even dropped you off to your house afterwards. He was sweet, polite and soft-spoken. The complete opposite of your ex-boyfriend.

"Rafe, leave."

He scoffs, running his tongue along his inner-cheek. His eyes still burn into yours.

He brings a cold finger to your face and the metal of his ring faintly touches your cheek. You suck in a deep breath as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

You look away from him, unable to stand the intensity of his eyes. You know what he wants, and you won't allow yourself to give in to him.

Almost turning away, you feel him grab your face and force you to look at him. He's staring down at you in a way that makes your heart dip.

You can't believe you used to know this man, can't believe you shared the same bed with him and loved him so unconditionally.

His eyes drop down to your lips, and then back up to your eyes. "Kiss me."

It's your turn to scoff. You try to pry his hand off your face, but he doesn't bulge. He simply leans his face closer to yours, the faint smell of alcohol and cigarettes enveloping your nose.

"Don't tell me that you don't miss it," his thumb moves against your cheek. "I've thought about you every night since the day we broke up. You know, you're the only thing that stays on my mind."

"Rafe—"

"No," his jaw is clenched. "Let me finish, alright? I-I can't eat, I can't sleep. I'm fucking useless without you. I need you."

You push his chest away from you. "And whose fault is that, huh?"

"Please," his voice cracks. "Baby, please."

"Oh my god, just-just stop this, okay? Rafe, you didn't even remember our anniversary! The whole day you were getting high with B-"

"I don't care!" He shouts, interrupting you. "I don't care, okay? I just need you, and you need me too! Tell me you don't miss me and I'll leave."

You sigh, rubbing your face. You want to yell at him, but his presence and words make you weak.

He knows that he has an effect on you. He knows how easily he can manipulate you and bend you to his will.

But you gather yourself. You shake your head and seethe through your teeth, "Go fuck yourself, Rafe. Get out, right now. Or I swear to god, I will call the police."

He chuckles lowly. "And tell them what, baby? That Rafe Cameron came into your house and refused to leave? Please, call the police. It'll just make things easier."

"Get. Out." You point towards the door. "Go back to her, Rafe. The bimbo who's always on your arm."

He groans, his voice low and guttural. "She's not you, okay? She doesn't fucking get me. Only you do."

"You're a piece of shit."

He takes a step closer to you, if that was even possible.

"I'm a piece of shit? Do you hear yourself?" He's towering over you. His hands are gripping your arms.

You push his chest again and step back, only to bump into the wall behind.

He, too, takes a step back, running a hand through his hair. He laughs and looks down at his feet. "Fine. You wanna play this game, huh?"

He starts walking towards you, and suddenly your feet are glued to the floor.

You feel his warmth against your body before his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your bodies are pressed against each other's.

You feel him run a finger down the length of your jaw.

You try to fight back the urge to moan at his touch. You want to push him away, but his touch makes you melt. It's been too long. Too long since he's been this close.

"Fuck you." You say, and your shaky voice doesn't go unnoticed by him. "And let go of me."

He ignores you.

He presses his forehead against yours, and your breath hitches in your throat.

You can't stop thinking about how much you want his lips on yours. How much you want him to not listen to your complaints and just fucking kiss you.

His breath hits your lips as his eyes search your face. "Tell me you don't miss me. Tell me you don't miss this," He whispers, his right-hand snaking up your body until it's resting right below your breast.

"I'll leave right now," he says, "and never come back. We can go our separate ways and live the rest of our lives separately. And then, ten years from now, you'll be at a children’s park and you'll see me and think, 'Wow. Rafe Cameron is hot.'"

"I-"

"Or," he pauses, his hand sliding down to your ass. "You can just stop being in denial and admit that you need me just as much as I need you."

His grip on you is tight, and his blue eyes are boring into yours. His breathing has quickened, and so has yours.

His face is mere centimetres away from yours at this point, and his eyes are digging holes in you. You feel his erection against your thigh, and the knowledge that he's aroused makes your brain go haywire.

"Say you fucking want me. I'm yours, alright? Just fucking say it." He's so close to you that you can taste his breathe.

You're at war with yourself. A part of you is screaming to kick him out, but the other part wants him to stay.

His grip on you tightens.

"I hate you." You murmur.

And then his lips are on yours.

The kiss isn’t soft and loving. It's harsh and needy, but it feels so right.

All protests, all thoughts and all the mixed feelings die down when he shifts his hand to your throat and squeezes it. With his other hand, he pulls up your thigh to his waist.

Your lips move together sloppily, his tongue darting into your mouth.

You feel him lift you up and walk over to your bedroom, his grip on you never loosening.

Your arms wrap around his neck, his tongue moves against yours, and all the feelings make you moan against his lips.

He breaks the kiss and pushes the door open with his foot, the dim light in the room allowing you to see the outline of his face.

He's breathing heavily. His eyes are dark with lust and his pupils are dilated.

You don't know what's gotten into him. Maybe the years apart have driven him crazy. But all that doesn't matter because right now he's kissing you like it's the end of the world, and you're letting him.

Your lips collide together again, and this time, it's different. It's more passionate and slow, and he kisses you in a way no one has ever kissed you before.

He lays you down on the bed and crawls on top of you.

You expect him to take control and dominate, but instead, he rests his head against the crook of your neck, his breathing hot on your skin.

"I'm so fucking sorry. I'm so sorry." He whispers as he kisses the side of your neck.

You're speechless. Your brain is telling you to shove him off, but your heart and body are telling you something else.

The lump in your throat has returned, and your eyes are starting to burn.

But before you can say anything in response, he rushes back to your lips, and you lose yourself in him.

His lips move hungrily against yours. You can taste the saltiness of his tears, and the thought of Rafe Cameron crying makes the knot in your stomach tighten.

His hips are pressed firmly against yours, his erection digging into your inner thigh.

The kiss is passionate, but there's a hint of possessiveness in the way he grips the side of your face.

His hand trails down your body, his fingertips roughly pushing against the fabric of your shirt making you whimper.

"I missed you so much, baby." He whispers.

Then he's sucking your lips, nibbling, and kissing. He's all over you.

Your hands tug at the hem of his shirt, and he lifts himself off of you, straddling you as he helps you pull his shirt off.

He's still the same; toned, sculpted, and ripped. You can't help but stare.

You run your fingers down his chest, and your eyes shut.

He's beautiful, and you've missed him so much.

He starts trailing kisses down your neck, sucking and leaving dark marks.

You moan breathily when he sucks on the sweet spot beneath your ear.

You were supposed to stand your ground, but fuck, you need him. You need him the same way you did when he first made love to you.

"Rafe," your voice comes out breathy, "I want you."

His hand is on your stomach, moving upward. He pulls his head back, and you see the desperation in his eyes.

"Fuck, say it again," he kisses the tip of your nose. "Tell me that you're mine."

"I'm yours." You shakily murmur. "Only yours."

He only groans in response. His lips capture yours again, making a gasp come out of your mouth—which he greedily swallows.

A piteous whimper slips past your lips when you feel your wetness coating your panties and rubbing against Rafe's pants.

But he still doesn't do anything to relieve the ache between your thighs. You buck your hips discreetly to grind against his covered dick, but he simply slaps your thigh, making you yelp.

He positions himself in between your legs, both of your parts still clothed; the fabric against your wet skin making you whimper.

You moan, grasping his bicep when his fingers trace along your underwear teasingly.

"Does he make you this wet?" He asks before pulling your underwear off and running his fingers past your exposed clit.

Your brain is so fucked up that silence is your only answer.

“Answer me or I swear to fucking God I'll leave you like this,” he says, slapping your thigh and making you gasp.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you reply annoyedly, "Just fucking-"

Suddenly, all heat disappears from above you. Your eyes snap open. The sight of Rafe clenching his jaw and pulling himself away from you makes you hurriedly reach out for him.

You stutter, “Wait-wait, wait, Rafe, baby, please.”

You tug at his arm, pulling him back down on top of you.

"I need you. Please. Please just fuck me."

"You're so pathetic." He chuckles, clicking his tongue before his hands are taking his shirt off, followed by your shirt being thrown somewhere in the room.

He diverts his attention to your tits, trailing wet kisses on each of them. You let out a satisfactory sigh as he continues wrapping and unwrapping his lips around your nipples.

He goes further down and presses kisses along your stomach.

Before you can react, he buries his face between your thighs. Your back arches, a hand on his soft hair as the other grips the pillow next to you, “Oh, fuck."

He practically devours you, looking up every two seconds to meet your blown eyes. He pushes your legs up, making them almost touch your shoulders. You gasp, tightening your grip on his hair as he continues to eat you out.

Your hands are everywhere, trying to hold anything that can make the storm in your stomach calmer.

Rafe slowly releases his tight grip on your legs before sliding his fingers into you. Your eyes squeeze shut.

Your hips slightly buck upwards, but Rafe shoves you down with his free hand.

His fingers are thrusting into you at a brutal pace, his tongue doing wonders right along them.

He detaches his lips off your pussy, but his fingers are still in you.

"Does he-does he touch you as good as I do? Does he make you as wet as I do?" Rafe asks as he leans over you. The hand that had shoved you down is now wrapped around your throat as he presses, making you choke. "No, he fucking doesn't. Only I make you feel this good, yeah?"

He doesn't expect you to say something because he knows that he's saying the truth. He’s the only person who can turn you into a mess.

"Oh my god, Rafe, right there." You moan as he curls his fingers deeper into you.

"Answer me, does he fuck you up as good as I do?"

You roll your eyes at the question he's asking for the nth time now, "Yeah, yeah he does." You reply absent-mindedly.

"What the fuck?" He exclaims, immediately pulling his fingers out of you. He pushes his fingers into your mouth, so deep that it makes you gag.

"You know what, I'll fucking treat you like a whore." He says, his fingers still deep in your mouth. "I thought I'd be nice to you after all these years, but you always have to be a bitch, don't you?"

With one hand, he clumsily pulls off his pants and underwear.

You moan as you feel him drag the tip of his cock over your pussy. He teasingly does so for a few more seconds before meeting your eyes and smirking at you.

"I'm going to fucking ruin you." He mumbles. "Show your boyfriend the bruises I give you, alright?"

And when he pushes his dick in, he makes sure to look down at how your walls envelope him perfectly even after all these years.

"Oh, holy fucking shit." You gasp when his hips thrust forward and go deeper into you.

Rafe drops his head on your shoulder as he sets a pace. "I fucking missed this. I missed fucking you- oh shit." He breathes into your shoulder.

Your eyes roll back into your head, your body budding with the pleasure his thrusts give you.

"Right there." You breathe.

"You never learn, do you?" He says. Swiftly, Rafe pulls out of you and flips you over so that you're on your stomach. "You're a whore. But only mine, baby."

Then he harshly thrusts back into you, making a pathetic moan leave your lips. His hands grip your waist as he pounds into you.

He wraps his arms around your stomach and pulls you flush into his sweaty chest, tipping your head up to pull you into a messy kiss. Your teeth and tongues clash uncomfortably, but neither of you give a fuck.

His lips detach from yours, and he buries his forehead into the back of your neck.

"You're squeezing me the fuck out," He moans out.

The new position makes you moan, your hands shifting from being vacant to grabbing your tits as he pushes himself deeper and deeper into you.

The sight of you touching yourself results in Rafe letting out a loud groan. His hand leaves your hair and slides down the front of your body to rub your clit.

The new fervour makes your legs shudder, "Fuck, I'm close." You mumble, leaning your head on his shoulder.

He nods frantically—having waited for this moment for years now.

"Cum for me, yeah. Cum all over me, baby. Need you." Rafe breathes out, thrusting harder into you.

In response, your back arches with a high. A loud moan escaping your lips and white dots blurring your vision as you release all over him.

Rafe fucks you through your orgasm—chasing his own with wild thrusts. “Oh, fuck, fuck."

You can feel his high approaching as he grips you tighter. He thrusts into you harshly, desperate for his release.

He throws his head back with a loud groan and a long string of curses when his hips falter and he's covering your insides with his cum.

The two of you are a gasping mess when you lay down on the bed.

You both stay there for moment, breathing in each other's scent. He traces your body, as if to memorise every inch.

When Rafe pulls away from you, it's like he's pulling your heart out too.

Because you know that this was just another night for him.

When Rafe cleans you up and covers you up with a blanket, he fails to cover the ache of your heart.

Because you know that the bed he'll be returning to won't be yours; but the other woman's.

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