#once again i need a forehead kiss so badly right now and maybe to be told it wasn't my fault

[peppermintmochafem]

<3

[aajjks]

Love Fuckin’ (m)

synopsis. You love feeling him so deep inside you after a nightmare.

rating: 18+ (explicit smut)

warning: expl-cit sex, k—ssing, unpr-tect-d sex, r-ugh sex, m-ssionary, posess-veness, borderline y-ndere gojo, f-ngering, he’s dr-nk, manga sp-ilers, nightm-res, drúnk gôjô.

note. This is for all the Gojo fuckers out here. I love him and I need him and I fucking hate sukuna and GEGE. fuck u both please share your feedback. I love you guys. Enjoy. Also this contains manga spoilers. Reposted.

You wake up in cold sweat.

Gojo was cut in half.

When you look around he’s not by your side, the sweat on your forehead falls down, what if dream is your upcoming reality?

It’s midnight,, there’s thunderstorm, and you’re so fucking lonely and scared— no you’re terrified.

Where is he? “Satoru…”

you curl yourself in bed, your paranoia slowly creeping up, your dream felt so vivid, so real.

Your boyfriend died in the nightmare.

As you think about your vivid dream, you can’t help but cry softly to yourself, you love him so much, he loves you so much.

Gojo’s love makes you feel so alive. You need him. You need him so badly right now. you want to touch him to make sure that he’s OK

God please…

You pray for his safety, goodness you need your boyfriend with you right now. You know he’s the strongest, he can protect himself but you’ll only calm down once he’s in your arms.

“Baby…” your eyes widen in surprise as the door of your bedroom opens and there’s him, a little sloppy with his steps as he comes in.

“Sa-Satoru…” you fall out, taking your blanket off as you see his soaked body. He stares at you with a weird gaze, “ynnnn..” he slurs out.

He’s drunk.

“You are drunk!” You glare at him, your tears now dry, sense of relief washes over you when you see him in his glory. He is okay and that dream of yours was just a stupid nightmare.

Gojo doesn’t reply but he walks over to you, his hair wet, the outline of his muscles showing through his soaked shirt and you feel his strong arms wrap around your body.

“My pretty baby…” he looks at you with his vibrant blue eyes, you glare at him. “Oh you horny fucker no.” You cuss at him.

He’s got that Look in his eyes, you know him like the back of your hand, despite him not saying anything about getting intimate with you yet you can tell he wants you.

Gojo pouts before you watch him kick his pants off, you don’t stop him, soon he’s taking off his clothing.

Getting completely bare.

“you stupid bastard why are you getting naked?”

You tease him acting, angry,

He pushes you towards him, your chest hitting his, and before you say anything else he pulls you into a bruising hot kiss.

His lips meet yours feverishly as he shoves his tongue in your mouth, demanding entrance and you grab his face kissing him back.

Satoru moans into your mouth, grinding his hard erected dick against your clothed thigh. That sends shivers down your spine. “Yn baby let me fuck youuu I need you.” He whines against your mouth.

You know he’s asking for consent, so you nod, and that’s all he needs before he pushes you onto your shared bed

You wait for his next move and he climbs on top of you, and soon he sticks his two large fingers inside you after taking your panties off which were hidden by your night dress.

“o-oh fuck.” You shiver, arching your back. His fingers make you feel so full and the way you clench around them makes Saturo grunt.

“where the fuck were you? I had a nightmare…” you try to surpass the noise that threaten to escape your throat when you tell him about your nightmare, but he’s just so mercilessly fucking you with his fingers.

“Aw baby you had a nightmare?” He asks, his face closer to yours as he buries his head in your neck and starts to kiss your neck, all over.

You moan again, “y-yeah.. I had a dream that you died… you were cut in half..” a tear escapes your eye because of the intensity of the pleasure of his fingers inside you or maybe because of the pain due to the nightmare you had.

but then you hear him laugh as he takes out his fingers right as you cum on them, as you chase your orgasm you’re confused as to why he’s laughing at your misery.

“Baby you taste so amazing… fuck.” He runs his tongue on your arousal on his fingers, licking them clean.

He’s so nasty and so lewd.

“Why the hell are you laughing? I love you and I thought I lost you.” You whine.

He doesn’t say anything, but he kisses you again, hungrily shoving his tongue inside your mouth.

“No one can kill Gojo Saturo… he always be alive baby. Don’t you see me right in front of you?” He peppers, your face in kisses, leaving you breathless with his former kiss.

You’re not sure if he’s being ignorant or.. sympathetic.

Or maybe he’s just telling you the truth.

Gojo looks at you loving his eyes full of love for you, “come on, let me make you feel just how alive I am as I fuck you senseless on my cock.”

And without a warning, he thrusts inside you violently.

And suddenly all the coldness from this rainy night disappears, the heat of his body making your night incredibly hot.

[luveline]

Maybe colt comforting reader when things for her film aren’t going right 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Colt comes to your rescue (clumsily) when you have a hard day. fem!reader, 1k words

Very minor plot spoilers for The Fall Guy (2024) if any

“I think he’s mad at you.” 

You pause where you’d been scrubbing your eyes with your hands, though you don’t look at him. Colt Seavers seems to follow you everywhere you go, and consequently plays witness to your many breakdowns. “Thanks, Colt. That’s astute.” 

“Are you mad at me? Why are you mad at me? It’s been ten seconds,” he complains. He has a unique talent for sounding flirty and needy at once. 

“No, Colt. I’m tired, it’s been a long day.” 

Colt is grinning when you meet his eyes. He has blood, fake or real undetermined, drying in the scruff of his facial hair. You gesture to yourself in a slow circle in the approximate area, to which Colt smiles again. 

“You look perfect,” he says confidently. 

“You have blood in your beard.” 

“Oh, right.” 

You sigh heavily, taking the few paces back to a stack of safety mattresses for a quick break. You’ll get up and help whoever needs helping as soon as you can feel your toes. Colt stays where he is, squinting against the sun, strands of blonde ends kissing his tan forehead. The summer shoots are good for him, he always looks so beachy. You’re exhausted all the time. 

As he notices. “Are you getting enough sleep?” he asks. 

“Yeah.” 

“‘Cos I was sleeping badly and then I got this new mattress that has four hybrid layers, there’s a foam layer, and then there’s titanium springs,” —he sees your distant expression and his own flickers— “anyways, you could try it if you want. Test it out with me. Or– Not with me. With me if you want. We’d have fun. But not with me if you don’t want to.” 

You’d laugh if you had the energy. “Do you wanna sit down?” you ask. 

“God, yes, please.” 

He has another talent for being insanely handsome no matter the day. You look like you’ve been badly rewarmed before serving, where he looks like he rolled out of bed with a smile. He’s smiling at you now, the foolish kind that’ll fluster you if you let him do it for too long. “Stop,” you say quietly. 

“You’re doing amazing.” 

“Thank you. You’re the only person who thinks so, unfortunately.” 

You smile at him weakly. Worried you look pathetic, you turn your face to your lap and clasp your fingers together. 

“That’s not true. Mayview is old-fashioned, that’s all, he was around when they were still killing horses on TV.” 

You grimace. “Yikes.”

“But it’s the modern era. He doesn’t get to make you feel like shit, or I’ll make him feel like shit.” He pretends to charge a sucker punch. 

You lean forward a touch, not quite hugging your knees but tempted to fold in on yourself nonetheless, the heat of the sun a memory on your neck as the evening begins and cloud cover floods in. 

The safety mattresses beneath you squeak and shush against each other. Your weight and Colt’s slides together slowly. He might be pushing himself a little with his boot, but you pretend not to notice as his hand comes to rest between your shoulders. 

“I just can’t do anything right,” you mumble. 

As soon as you’ve said it you’re hoping he can’t hear you, but he does. He might have injured pretty much anything that can be fractured, sprained, or just plain broken, but he has stellar hearing. “You do everything right. You do!” he says, quietly and passionately at once, “They don’t realise it, but you’re the glue keeping this whole thing together.” 

“What are you?” you ask, bemused.

His hand is warm on your shoulder, unafraid where he hesitates to answer, “I don’t know. The test dummy? The guy who gets set on fire a lot?” 

“How is that?” 

“Warm,” he says, beaming, his face so unexpectedly close that you can see the glucose shining in the blood on his cheek. Fake blood. “You wanna try it? I’m sure I could convince the guys.” 

“No, I’m okay.” 

His voice turns silky. “Good, I wasn’t gonna let you anyway.” 

“Let me?” 

“You could get hurt.”

You give in, melted maybe by his warm tones, or exhausted by a day of playing mom for a director who can barely tell his left from his right. Your face presses to his shoulder and your spine sags under his hand, prompting Colt to pull you flush against his side. He always waits for your signals for stuff like this, no matter how desperate he might confess to being. “Can you make them all leave me alone?” you mumble into his jacket, the fabric rough against your nose. 

“Obviously I can, but… We could run away.” 

“Where would we go?” 

“I don’t know. Somewhere sunny. You can rub sunblock on my back, I can hold the umbrella over your head while you read.” 

“They have stands for that sort of stuff. Or you can shove it in the sand, you know.”

“I wanna do something nice for you,” he interrupts, the sound of a smile in his voice as he gives you a friendly jostle. “That’s the point.” 

“You’re plenty nice, Colt.” 

And he is. He saw you were upset and he came jogging upto you valiantly, and your side-armed cuddle is really pushing the pep back into your life. You take a few deep breaths under the weight of his arm before turning to him, brave, ready to go back to work if it means he’s gonna drive you home tonight. “Thank you for caring.” You kiss his cheek, careful of the fake blood. “You’re super nice.” 

You miss the heat of him the second you stand, but there really is work to do. 

“I’m super nice?” he calls. “How nice is super? Nice enough to get another one of those, or what? Are they by the metre?” 

You bite back a smile. 

“Hello? Can you hear me?” He must catch someone’s eye. “She can’t hear me. It’s cool. We like each other.” 

Nobody saves face quite like Colt. 

[sonotpattismith]

My Lost, Fearless Leader. (yuta okkotsu x reader)

As the men masqueraded, I hoped you’d return with your feet on the ground, tell me all that you’d learned, because love’s never lost once perspective is earned.

word count: 9k warnings: angst, me never making it easy for poor Yuta a/n: inspired by Peter by Taylor Swift. Lowkey a self-insert as I too am a therapist, tee hee. I hope y’all enjoy it, I absolutely love writing for Yuta even though I make him suffer every time 🥹🫶🏻

masterlist.

Dear Okkotsu,

I know you only landed last week, but you left me with so many questions when you said goodbye. At the risk of sounding too forward, I thought for a moment that you would kiss me before you left. You had a look in your eye, one I’d never seen before, and I even thought I saw you square your shoulders like you were about to charge into battle.

Inumaki offered to give me your number when I asked about you, but I feared too quick of a response if I were to text you. After all, I love to torture myself. Somehow a letter felt safer, more disconnected. Still, I hope you have the time to write back to me while you’re out there growing as you so desperately wanted to.

You still have me in your corner here in Tokyo.

With kind regards,

L/N.

Dear L/N,

I hope this letter gets to you soon, though I know it has some way to go— I don’t want to leave you waiting again. I wondered if I should just text you, but you’re right, maybe this is best for wimps like me who were too scared to kiss the girl they like before traveling oceans away. There’s more courage in me hiding behind a pen than I ever had standing in front of you.

No matter how badly I wanted to show you how I felt, I didn’t feel worthy enough when I looked at that scar on your face— one I should have been able to prevent. There’s so much for me to learn about this world, and Gojo-Sensei says Kenya is where I need to be. I trust him implicitly, and I only hope here I’ll be able to grow into someone worthy of coming back to all of you at Jujutsu High. Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself, but I hope to become someone worthy enough to indulge myself in you as well.

I hope you can find it in you to wait for me all the way in your corner of Tokyo.

Respectfully,

Okkotsu.

Dear Okkotsu,

You were right, your letter did travel far, and after two weeks, I feared I may not ever hear back from you.

What happened with Geto Suguru wasn’t your fault, and, if I remember correctly, you were the one that saved all of us that night. It breaks my heart that you feel you don’t have a place here with us. I never thought you needed to prove yourself, and if that’s the only reason you went thousands of miles away— then you should board the next flight back over.

If I had known it was the scar on my face that stopped you, I would have covered it just for you. No one else around here is willing to take the blame for me when I break one of Maki’s spears— that alone should earn you a spot right beside me over here. Speaking of, I hope the bump on your forehead has gone down.

Luckily for the both of us, patience is my best virtue, but I do hope you don’t make me wait terribly long. You don’t have to be the strongest.

Holding my breath,

Y/N.

Dear L/N,

Maybe eventually I’ll work up the courage to call you, but our weeks of waiting in between will just have to do for now.

I think you’re beautiful— regardless of your scar, and I hope I didn’t send the wrong message when I said it’s what stopped me. I only meant that it reminded me of the kind of guy that deserves your attention, one that has brought about more good than he has bad in his life.

I’ve hurt so many people, and it wouldn’t be right of me not to try to make up for the wrongs I’ve caused. It’s only been a month, but Miguel has taught me so much, and I’ve seen so many wonderful things. I’m not sure if you’re interested, but I’m sending you some pictures of all my favorite parts.

I hope Maki has been merciful to you, and, yes, my bump is gone. Still, the little scar there reminds me of you each time I see it. So, I suppose I should thank her.

We’ve been talking so much about me, but I want to hear how you’re doing back in your corner of the world. How have your classes been going? I almost miss hearing everyone arguing with Gojo-Sensei every morning.

I don’t want to be the strongest, but I want to be strong enough to be worthy of you. The last thing I want is to keep you waiting too long, but however long it takes for me to be able to make a mark on those who have shown such faith in me.

Thinking of you,

Okkotsu.

Dear Yuta,

Surely that’s not you in that picture beside the giraffe? It’s only been two months— what are they feeding you over there? I had to do a triple take. You look well, Okkotsu.

I’m starting to wonder if it’s really you behind that ink. You were never so bold when you were here. Do you have a ghostwriter? I have my doubts, but I still hope all those thoughtful words really are coming from you.

I can see how hard you’ve been working, and I hope you’re beginning to find in yourself the pride I and all us here at home have always had in you. I don’t think anyone blames you for the unfairness that’s clung to you thus far, and no one expects you to make up for any of it— at least I know I don’t. If you really insist on doing so though, maybe you can start by giving me a call every once and a while? I’m sure you're busy, but I’d love to hear your voice again.

Classes have been going well. We’re almost going into our second year now, and everyone still talks so fondly of you. We wish you were here to start the year with us. I certainly miss having someone who was equally as clueless when it came to this world— it felt like you were the last shred of normalcy I was hanging onto. It’s okay though, I suppose I have some growing to do too.

Also, you don’t need to be so formal with me, I think you’ve earned the first name basis. Unless of course, you need to build up the courage for that, too.

I only felt it was fair to send some pictures of all of us here as well— though they’re nowhere near as badass as your safari photos. Please keep sending them— I’ll cherish the ones I have here for now though.

Still waiting for you,

Y/N.

Three months following Yuta’s departure from Tokyo, you first received an actual call from him. You had just turned in for the night, muscles aching from the mission you and Maki had just returned from only an hour or two prior. Truthfully, you were having a difficult time with the added responsibility that was accompanying your new year at Jujutsu High.

Last year, at the very least, you had Yuta there who seemed on a fairly level playing field with you. Still, he held more of a determination to move forward in his life as a sorcerer than you did. After your encounter with Geto Suguru that had left you partially blinded in your right eye, it was difficult for you to find that gusto you had when you first arrived.

The deep lulls of slumber had just begun to penetrate your exhausted mind, and you could swear a more pleasant dream was just beyond your reach. When your phone began vibrating underneath your still cool pillow, your brows furrowed at the intrusion. The sound caused an electric-like jolt in your body that had you shooting up as if someone had just pulled the fire alarm. Calming your racing heart, you reached down to snatch the device up. Your eyes squinted to adjust to the blue light emitting from the screen, and you saw a number you didn’t recognize. Under the caller location though, it indicated that it was coming from Kenya.

Sitting up with a gasp, you gaped down at the device, uncertain excitement bubbling in your stomach and up your chest. Without a second thought, you swiped to answer the call. Amidst your anticipation of who you thought might be on the other line, you forgot to greet the caller.

“Um… uh- hello?”

A smile spread across your cheeks at the sound of his timid voice.

“A call from Kenya,” You began teasingly, your voice still hoarse from sleep. “I wonder who it could be.”

There was an abrupt shuffling on the other line, and you could already picture him pacing around whatever space he was currently occupying.

“You got me!” Yuta quipped nervously, quickly checking the time on his phone upon hearing the sleepy tone that laced your voice. It wasn’t too late over in Tokyo, and he figured if he didn’t call you now while he still had the nerve to do it, he never would. Okkotsu had determined during his time in Kenya that his confidence somehow peaked right after a successful mission. Naturally, this was when he calculated it would be the best time to call you with the lowest possibility of making a stuttering fool of himself. “Di-Did I wake you? I can call back another-”

“After you took three months to gather all that courage up?” You joked with a fond smile, reaching down to toy with the corner of your pillow. Despite the fact that he couldn’t see you, you shook your head. “I think I can stay up for a few minutes.”

He was grateful, so eternally grateful that you couldn’t see the way the blood rushed up his neck and into his face. Pressing a cool hand against his cheek as if it would make the heat die down, he forced himself to sit on the edge of his bed, bottom lip caught between his teeth. It had been too long already since he last spoke, and the silence on the call was becoming overbearing as he thought of anything to say.

“You there, Yuta?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m, uh-- still here.” The boy chuckled pathetically, pounding his balled up fist against his thigh, willing himself to quit being such a loser. Shooting up to begin his short trek around his room once again, he took a deep breath. “I-I wanted to thank you. You know, for writing to me the past few months. I think they’ve been kind of motivating me, actually.”

“Yeah?” You smiled, lying back down on your pillow to stare stupidly up at the ceiling of your dorm. In hearing that shy voice that you had been missing for so long, you had forgotten about the aching, abused muscles that had been assaulting you just minutes prior. In its place was the rushing endorphins of your child-like crush on the boy on the other line. “So, when you come back strong enough to beat Sensei’s ass, I can take partial credit, right?”

His soft laugh filled your once silent room, inciting the overwhelming butterflies in your stomach to erupt in a fluttering haze.

“It’ll all be you.” Yuta joked halfheartedly, rubbing the back of his neck in relief that he’d gotten past the awkward silence unscathed. He flopped back down onto his bed and looked out the window at the slowly setting sun. “Uh… speaking of Sensei, how is everything over there? The exchange event is coming up soon, right?”

This made your smile slowly wane.

“Yeah, it’s next month. There was some drama with the first years, but everyone else seems to be pretty excited.”

“Everyone else? It sounds like you’re not including yourself in there.”

You sighed gently. Yuta was always so determined about growing as a sorcerer, so these types of events were always right up his alley. Not to mention the manner in which he absolutely wiped out the sister school at last year’s event. It actually caused a bit of second-hand embarrassment to watch the whole ordeal play out— no matter how quickly it concluded. After the atrocities of the past few months though, you couldn’t find it within yourself to be excited for the goodwill event.

It wasn’t that long ago that you watched all your friends meet near death at the hands of Suguru Geto, and you weren’t too far behind. They had all seemingly moved on from it all so fast— all of them except for Yuta Okkotsu. It seemed that all it had done was given him more ammunition to spark his journey of self discovery. You wished it had had the same effect on you. In truth though, all it sparked was a fear that your life, along with your friends, was constantly at the mercy of a crueler fate than most your age would be subjected to.

It felt wrong. Yuta shouldn’t have felt the need to bear the weight of you and your friends’ injuries all on his own. He shouldn’t have needed to go off to search for some unknown answer to all the insecurities his grueling life had thrust upon him. Still, it was so important to him. You could see the way it gave him purpose, a will to keep going despite all that he’d been through. It wasn’t his fault, but you always wished you could have found that same purpose within slaying curses and putting your life on the line.

A soft call of your name on the other line pulled you from your self-depricating thoughts. Shaking your head, you attempted to lighten the mood.

“Last name again? So formal. I thought we were past that, Okkotsu.”

“Oh-- right, sorry.” He stammered out before trying your first name out on his lips. It was delicate in the way it rolled off his tongue, sending warmth straight through your chest. Recalling your sudden silence once his nerves subsided, his lips pulled pensively into a thin line. “Um, have you been doing okay? You know, since…”

Brows rising just a hair, you were shocked at how easily he read through your sudden change in tone. Your lip quivered into a slight frown. A deep breath was suddenly pushing down that biting urge you had to tear up.

“Yeah, I’ve been okay. Just… wish you were still here is all.” You confessed into the dark, lonely dorm room. “I think you were the only one who understood how overwhelming this all was.”

Yuta felt his chest constrict at your earnest confession. Part of him felt guilty for not being there, but he knew deep down that he was doing the right thing by building himself up before he allowed himself to come back— especially to you. Still, the boy knew where you were coming from. It wasn’t easy being the newcomer in a world where your peers had a fifteen year head start on.

The two of you understood each other—empathized with one another. You both strived to make sure the other was doing okay; whether that be sneaking out late at night to practice with one another in hopes you both wouldn’t make fools of yourselves in training the next day, or just being someone that the other could glance knowingly at when one of your classmates mentioned something it seemed that everyone else was privy to, except you two.

“I’m getting stronger everyday.” Yuta offered earnestly, a soft, empathetic smile playing on his lips— the kind you could just hear through his gentle tone. “And I know you are too. We’re gonna kick some major butt one day, y’know?”

The boy was relieved when your glittering laugh filled his speakers, and he found himself laughing along with you. A comfortable silence blanketed over you two, and for a moment it felt as though you were laying right beside him, your gentle breaths lighting a fire within his soul. The courage that he thought he had lost upon hearing your voice for the first time in months was slowly flooding back to him, and he began pensively rolling his bottom lip between his fingers.

“Hey,” Okkotsu called out feebly, resting his hand down on his chest and feeling his heart pounding against his fingers. Reaching down to your discarded letter beside him, he picked up the picture you’d sent along with it. It was of all the second years, and he wondered with a smile if you had Gojo-Sensei take it for you all, and, if so, how much he complained about not being included.

You stood in the middle of Inumaki and Maki, Panda standing proudly and towering behind you. His thumb reached out to graze softly over your face. In the photo, one of your hands was teasingly covering your right eye, and he blushed as he remembered your earlier conversation about that scar. You hummed in acknowledgment on the other line. “Did you mean it? You know… when you said you’d wait for me?”

“Did you mean it when you said you were gonna come back for me?” You countered quickly.

Yuta exhaled nervously, the churning in his chest making him feel as though he might pass out. Staring back at your smiling face in the photo, he nodded breathlessly.

“Of course, I meant it. I meant every word.”

“Then so did I.”

Yuta Okkotsu’s reassuring promise helped ground you in your studies of jujutsu for a while longer, but you could still feel the aching insistence in the back of your mind that told you this wasn’t where you were meant to be. Your friendship with the sorcerer continued to grow even over the thousands of miles that separated you.

He’d call you whenever he had the chance to, and you’d text him about updates on what all his friends had been up to without him. Although both Inumaki and Maki kept up with him regularly, he allowed you to retell stories he’d more often than not already heard from them.

He could tell that you were struggling to find and hold your place as a sorcerer. You always listened enthusiastically when he’d tell you about the new techniques he was learning or the missions he’d been sent on, nodding along on the other line and hanging onto every word he said. Still, when he’d await to hear the progress of your training or how your latest mission had gone, you didn’t have the same enthusiasm in your tone.

It had been almost a year since he’d been gone. The two of you had never implicitly discussed the nature of your relationship, but your lingering promise to each other seemed to be enough to keep your hearts locked safely away for the other’s return. As the months dragged on though, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was worth staying in the world of jujutsu that seemed to so expertly traumatize you and your peers.

You insisted on video calling him for once, eager to once again put a face to the voice that had been filling your every night for the past few months. Maybe, you thought to yourself, if you saw those warm, inviting eyes again paired with that timid smile, you’d find it in you to hold out just a bit longer.

“Ca-Can you see me?” Yuta’s ever anxious voice filled your quiet room once again. The palm of his hand briefly covered the camera before it was moved away, and it appeared as though he had propped you up on a dresser of some sort. He stepped back, hunching over so his face was still in the frame, staring hesitantly into the screen.

A brief exhale of disbelief left you at the sight of him. He had changed so much over the past year; from the inches he’d sprouted up, to the new broadness of his lean shoulders, right down to his more maturely parted hair as it swayed in his face.

His features appeared sharper than when you’d last seen him, a testament to how much he’d grown physically as well as mentally. The dark circles you remember being everpresent under his long, midnight-blue eyes seemed even more pronounced now, and you wondered just how hard this Miguel character had been working him. Despite his apparent lack of sleep though, he grinned cheerfully upon seeing your face.

Forgoing your previous concern, an ecstatic smile of your own lit up your face as you took him in. You had always thought he had a sort of innocent, gentle cuteness to him, but time and knowledge seemed to have morphed those characteristics into the sharp, hauntingly striking ghost of the boy you once knew presented before you. For the first time since knowing him, you thought you felt more nervous than he did at the moment.

“Wow! You look--” He paused, a slight flush filling his face, and suddenly he was that timid boy again, staring down at you with the false promise of a kiss. Your heart melted at the sight. Yuta was still looking nervously back at you, mouth hanging open as if his mind was running faster than his tongue could process. You raised your brows expectantly at him, hiding your amused smile. “Uh—pretty! You— you look really pretty.”

A soft blush fell across your cheeks.

“Thanks, Yuta.” You laughed softly, eyes fluttering across his face admiringly. “You look like you’ve… grown.”

“Oh, me?” He laughed skittishly, hand coming up to rustle through his jet black locks. His brows were furrowed slightly as he looked down at his own appearance as if he was only just now noticing the growth spurt he’d had in the past year. “Yeah! I guess—”

“Is that blood on your shirt?” You suddenly noticed, leaning forward so your squinting eyes could get a better look at the dark matter that clung to his white top. His eyes shot up to meet yours, and in an instant, his fumbling hands were working to unbutton his uniform shirt. It was no use though, the white t-shirt underneath was also stained through.

“Sorry, I just got back from a mission.” He admitted dejectedly, grabbing the phone and sitting on the floor, resting his back against the bed behind him. “I would’ve showered, but I didn’t want to keep you up too late.”

You sat back against your headboard tentatively. It was incredible to you how he was never phased by the violence and bloodshed that shrouded this lifestyle. There were so many nights that you lay awake, eyes unblinking as you tried to forget the horrors you’d witnessed just long enough to get some sleep.

“How do you do it, Yu?” You asked timidly.

Yuta took in the way your wide eyes glimmered with the threat of unspilled tears. There it was again— that underlying fear in your tone and demeanor that told him that something wasn’t quite right, and it hadn’t been right since you came so close to death.

“What do you mean, love?” He wasn’t sure where that term of endearment came from, maybe from the concern that had been pooling in him for months and had now suddenly burst upon seeing that broken look in your eyes. Either way, it was too late to take it back now.

“Act like everything’s normal when you come home covered in blood and guts and watch people die— watch your friends—”

“I’m doing this for my friends.” His response had a defensive edge to it, but his wide eyes were gentle, taking in your vulnerable state carefully. “And for the people I’ve had to watch die. Bad things will happen whether I’m a part of them or not. How can I sit back and do nothing when that’s all I’ve done my entire life?”

You suddenly felt small in your corner of the world. He was selfless, fearless, purposeful in his mission as a sorcerer, and you couldn’t fault him for it. Moreso, you faulted yourself for lacking that same drive.

“I just– sometimes I feel like this isn’t for me. I’m not like you, Yuta. I don’t think I’m strong enough for this. I’m not strong enough for this.”

Yuta continued to insist upon believing in your growth, just as you had believed in his. His persistence in your strength of character only served to break your heart more. You knew the deeper his faith in you ran, the more crushing his disappointment would be when you inevitably let him down.

In the weeks following your dismayed conversation with him, you weren’t answering his calls as often, afraid he would be on the other line hoping to hear of your growth and the things you’d overcome— but you had none to show for. You usually texted him with false excuses that you were on a mission, or that you were simply too tired to talk that night. No matter how hard you tried to pride yourself in your little victories, your faith in your abilities as a sorcerer was waning quickly before your eyes.

He had always said that he was the one undeserving of his place in this world— of his place beside you. The stronger he grew though, the more you only noticed the opposite.

It was a month after your phone call that you received a small package from Kenya, recognizing the stamp immediately as one of the various animal themed ones Yuta seemed to keep stockpiled just for you. Chewing at your bottom lip, a sense of guilt washed over you, knowing you hadn’t been keeping up with him as much as you once did. Despite this, he continued to try, desperate to get through to you somehow before you slipped from between his fingers all together.

Ripping open the orange, padded envelope, you overturned the contents onto your bed. The wooden beads of a bracelet clacked softly against one another as they fell upon the comforter, a letter landing gently atop it. You ran your fingers along the thin bracelet, thinking maybe if you concentrated long enough, you’d be able to feel the warmth of his fingers lingering from when he’d carefully placed it into the envelope for you. You picked up the accompanying letter.

Dear Y/N,

It seems like they’ve been keeping you really busy over there in your corner of the world! I had so much I wanted to tell you, but I thought maybe it’d be best to put it all into a letter so you could read it at a time that’s best for you.

Gojo-Sensei says that I’ll probably be coming back soon, maybe in the next couple of months even. If all goes well, I hope to be joining everyone for our final year. It’d be nice to all be together again. It’d be nice to actually see you again.

You don’t have to tell me everything, but I know you’ve been going through a hard time recently, and I’m sorry I’m not there to help you. You were wrong the other night on the phone— you are stronger than you think. This life isn’t easy, and I don’t want you to feel like you’re not fit for it just because it hurts you right now.

When I felt I had no strength left in me to keep going, it was you who lent me some of yours until I could stand again. I’m sending it back to you now, so please use it to keep moving forward until I can lend you some of mine. Please, keep waiting for me.

The beads on the bracelet I sent you represent all the things I wish for you. The red represent bravery and strength, the kind I know you have in you still. Until you find them though, let these be a reminder. The yellow are for growth, and until you can see it coming your way, let these motivate you.

I got one just like it for myself, so I can be reminded everyday of the things I love about you. I’ll keep it on me always, and I hope as you’re waiting that you’ll do the same.

Still yours,

Yuta.

Tears were streaming freely down your cheeks and staining the precious letter before you. With wobbling lips, you bit back a quiet sob as you carefully slipped the thin bracelet onto your wrist. Strength. Bravery. Growth. They were all pillars that seemed so far away from you, but Yuta was convinced you held them just within your grasp. If anything, the beads would serve as a reminder that someone important was counting on you, and you’d rather suffer the uphill battle than disappoint him.

The next morning, you woke early to speak with Gojo. He was lounging lazily in his large, plush chair, laptop sat carelessly on his lap when you came in. As if expecting you all along, he looked up from his bored typing to offer a sly smile— the type that told you he was always steps ahead of you.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Gojo greeted, closing his laptop and setting it haphazardly on his desk. Leaning back, he laced his fingers casually in his lap, jutting his chin toward the seat in front of him.

Hesitantly, you sat down. Your posture was rigid as you stared back at his half-covered face. Although your sensei had never given you a reason to fear him, you couldn’t help but feel anxious at the thought of how he might react to your request.

“I… I don’t know how to say this.”

He stayed silent, allowing you to collect your thoughts. The small smile tugging at his lips said he already knew what was plaguing your mind. Fiddling with the bracelet on your wrist, you were reminded of the importance that you stand your ground here.

“I’m not sure I’m cut out for being a sorcerer.” It was out there, and it hung heavily in the air around you. Looking down at your twiddling fingers, you felt that familiar lump building in your throat. Your sensei was silent before you. Glancing up at him through tear soaked eyes, you shrugged your shoulders in defeat. “I’m not like the others. I can’t bounce back like they do. It scares me; the death, the fighting, the loss— it terrifies me, Gojo. I can’t do it anymore. I-I just—”

“You’ve been struggling for a while now, haven’t you?” It was more of a statement than a question— an observation he’d been holding onto for some time. The older man wasn’t oblivious, he could see when his students were beginning to slip away; physically and mentally.

“How did you know?” You briefly wondered if Yuta had mentioned something to him during their regular check in calls, but you doubted it.

Standing abruptly from his chair, he strolled leisurely around the room, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“You remind me of someone, is all.” Gojo’s cryptic message left more questions than answers. Though you had grown used to his dodgy answers and coded messages, now was really not the time. Before you could express your annoyance, he continued. “You’re not stuck, you know.”

Your mouth hung open as you stared at him in disbelief. Standing up to face him as he stared out the window, your mind was racing at the possibilities.

“You mean— I could leave? Just like that?”

“Just like that. I’d talk to the higher ups today for you if that’s really what you want.” Still, the edge in his tone indicated that he wasn’t about to let you off that easily. As if sensing your apprehension, he tilted his head playfully toward you, a fond smile on his face. “I’ve seen what this gig can do to people. I don’t need to see you fall victim to it too.”

“I mean— I…” You were stumbling over your words. For the past few years, you were sure that your future was set for you— one you were apprehensive about living, but one that was secure nonetheless. Where would you go from here?

Gojo hummed pensively— invitingly. God, how you wished he would just spit out what he clearly wanted so desperately to say. Of course, he always wanted his students to come to their own conclusions, set their own fates.

“The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.” The sensei announced dramatically, taking another lap around the room. You shivered at the mention of that night. He leaned toward you with a raised brow. “That’s when this all started, am I right? You almost died, if I remember correctly.”

“I would have if it hadn’t been for—”

“Yuta Okkotsu.” He cut you off, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips, and for a moment you thought you saw his head tilt down as if to look at the bracelet you were currently rolling between your fingers. Nodding softly, he continued. “Still, you cut it pretty close. Must have been traumatizing. Partially lost your sight, almost lost your friends, your life.”

You nodded silently, unsure of where he was going with this long winded rant. Of course, him giving you a simple out was just too easy for Gojo-Sensei’s ‘everything is a life lesson’ style of teaching.

“Tell you what, why don’t I set up a meeting for you to meet with a counselor? Someone who specializes in all our creepy-crawly problems?”

“Like… like therapy?” You questioned with furrowed brows. A therapist for sorcerers? You didn’t even know such a thing existed. Still, the prospect sparked a certain hope in your chest, one that the six eyes saw instantly. He didn’t bother to conceal his victorious smile.

“Yup. Nice, comfy couch and everything.” He advertised as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. His long fingers began typing purposefully against the screen before he looked up at you again. “Of course, she’s kind of running a one-man show, so her schedule is pretty tight. I can pull a few strings for you though.” His words rang in your mind with a faint echo. That suggestive, underlying tone in his voice, it was beginning to seep through, and your gut was telling you his suggestion was a lot more calculated than you would ever give him credit for. “That kind of work is in high demand, you know— what with all the new curses popping up since Itadori came along.”

Gojo was continuing to drop hints, but you had already heard him loud and clear. This was something he thought you could do— somewhere he knew you would fit within this hectic world. As a teacher, it was his job to train the up and coming sorcerers for the perils that lay ahead of them. In the same prospect though, he had also become incredibly adept at discovering their potential and nudging them toward it— even if it wasn’t as gently as he thought.

The following week you met with the therapist Gojo had supposedly pulled so many strings to get you in to see. She had a small office just minutes away from the school, and you wondered why she wasn’t on campus. She hadn’t suggested it to you first, though she was well aware of what Gojo was trying to do when he set up this meeting.

So, amidst your explanation of everything you had been experiencing since that night, you dropped in questions. How did she know this was the right path for her— how closely did she work with Jujutsu High— how did she get where she was?

By the gentle and encouraging manner in which she answered all of your questions, you had a gut feeling once again that Gojo had already been three steps ahead of you. You were set to transfer out of Jujutsu High the following week.

Your sensei funded your education through an outside university, who’s higher ups had connections with the school. Kaori, the god-sent sorcerer counselor who’d seemingly fallen from the heavens right when you needed her, was more than happy to take you under her wing as well. In truth, she was relieved to have some help around the office given the influx of referrals she’d been receiving recently.

Everything had been falling into place, yet there was still one last loose end you had yet to tie up from your life as a sorcerer. You looked down at the box of letters you’d kept over the past year or so from Yuta.

Following his last letter, and how determined he seemed to be that you would make it as a sorcerer— you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that you had given up. After everything he’d done to grow himself into the man he was now, a fearless and loyal sword to his friends and the innocent— and you had given up. In the end, despite his insistence that it was him not worthy enough to stick around, you realized it had been you all along.

You weren’t worthy of Yuta Okkotsu.

Your trembling finger hovered over his contact, but you couldn’t do it. Clicking your phone off, you stared up at the ceiling of your now empty dorm room and allowed the hot tears to burn your cheeks, dripping down your neck and into the hem of your shirt. He was still finishing up his training, growing into a man he could be proud of, experiencing the things that made him feel alive. It would be selfish of you to drop this on him now.

Setting down the box on your desk, you pulled out a spare sheet of paper and sat down to draft your last prose to Yuta Okkotsu.

Dear Yuta,

By the time you’re reading this, I’m sure you will have already heard about my departure from Jujutsu High. I wanted to call you and tell you everything that’s been on my mind, to give you a proper goodbye, but I didn’t want to interrupt your progress overseas.

I wanted to thank you for the kindness you’ve shown me over the years. I’ll cherish each bit of it as long as I live. You kept me holding on through my lowest points, even if it wasn’t the life of sorcery that I was holding onto.

I know I’m cowardly, but I just couldn’t look you in the eyes and tell you that I had given up. You’ve worked so hard and sacrificed so much to hold your place here, and I suppose a part of me feels foolish for giving mine up so easily.

Your passion for undoing the wrongs in this world is so beautiful, and although I couldn’t share it with you, it only ever made me love you more. Please never take it for granted. Continue to fight to hold your place here, because you hold more power than you could ever come to know. I can feel it, even when you’re not here.

I’m sorry that I couldn’t wait for you.

Forever yours,

Y/N

When Yuta Okkotsu arrived back at Jujutsu High three months later, he had already been sitting on the news of your departure for two weeks. His friends thought it best to at least prepare him for when he returned, but he figured so much when you stopped responding to his calls and messages. No amount of preparation could have stopped the hole from opening up in his chest upon reading the letter you’d left in his dorm room. It sat neatly on his untouched pillow— a ghost that haunted him the second he stepped in.

He tried with fervor to be excited for his return, smiling along half heartedly when his friends shoved a party hat on his head and insisted upon celebrating all the birthdays they’d missed. Those haunting blue eyes only stared lifelessly at the cake before him, his soul still sat on the edge of his bed where he’d read your letter.

Forever yours.

Yuta wondered if those simple two words meant the door was open for him to swing in and come find you as he so ardently promised he would. Gojo-Sensei said you were happy though— working toward your place in the world. It was one he no longer felt he had a place in— not when his life consisted so wholly of the very things you were running from.

Months passed, and the both of you tried so desperately to move on. Despite being content in the roots your lives had sprouted, there was always a missing piece that stopped the both of you from blossoming. You always held your breath in hopes he’d come back to you like he said he would, and he always hoped you were still waiting for him despite his insistence that you were happier without him. The both of you were only kids when you’d carelessly thrown out such a vow, after all.

Gojo felt whole-heartedly confident in his whim to have Kaori train you. There was a spark in you, one that wanted to heal those that this world had so carelessly wounded, even if that meant you having to heal yourself first. In the end, it was the right decision, and he prided himself in the fact that there was a happy medium to keep your talents within the jujutsu world still while also fulfilling your purpose. There was a missing piece of the puzzle that lingered ever present though, and that was the infuriating case of you and Yuta Okkotsu.

It was getting depressing— watching the boy mope around pretending to not have the very obvious chip on his shoulder all the damn time. Your old sensei still kept up with you and your progress often, seeing as the school worked closely with Kaori to refer in need sorcerers on a regular basis.

Each time he’d pop in for a visit or called unexpectedly, you’d always ask how everyone back at the school was doing. Sure, you really did hope your old friends were doing okay, but you were really holding your breath for when he’d mention Yuta. Gojo always spoke of him so highly, and you couldn’t help but smile fondly each time, thinking of how proud you were at how much he’d accomplished— just as he said he would. Still, the six eyes never missed that morose glimmer in your eye as you’d nod along to his stories.

“Have you ever tried sleeping at night, or are those dark circles just a part of you now?”

Yuta was snapped from his stupor when his sensei dropped unceremoniously beside him as he looked on at his friends ahead of him. As if having just been reminded of his perpetual exhaustion, he reached up subconsciously to rub at those aforementioned dark eyes.

“Oh, haha,” Yuta’s halfhearted attempt at a laugh only served to drive Gojo’s purpose right home. “Yeah, guess my sleep schedule never really adjusted back to normal, huh?”

“You aren’t performing like you should be, Okkotsu.”

He gaped exasperatedly at his sensei, blinking a few times as if maybe he just hadn’t heard him correctly. Frankly, he had been kicking ass lately, and everyone around him knew it too. Still, if Gojo-Sensei was telling him he was falling behind, it was seemingly the only opinion that mattered. Even if it wore him down till only his skeleton remained, he would keep getting better until he could prove himself to the man who took a chance on him.

Already picking up on the look of determination on the boy’s face, Gojo put out a solemn ‘slow your roll’ hand in front of him. Sighing in amusement, the sensei thought the boy would crush a semi-truck between his hands if it’d make him grow— meant he could prove himself.

“Your mind isn’t here. Hasn’t been since you got back. I can tell, you know.”

Okkotsu’s shoulders slumped dejectedly. No matter how much he worked to train physically, to learn to control his cursed energy and techniques, there was always that one lingering barrier that seemed to keep him from reaching his potential. Of course, he knew he had been more distracted since your departure, but he figured— hoped— it would pass eventually. He thought maybe if he ignored it long enough, pushed down that frenzy to rip his hair out by the roots and bellow out every frustration he’d held in for allowing you to slip away, each day as the urge melted away into dreams of you at night that woke him with a crater in his chest— maybe eventually it would fade just as you did.

“Try to get some rest, clear your mind. Do what you gotta do.” Gojo emphasized, leaning down to tower over his apprehensive prodigy with a knowing smile. His covered eyes flicked down to where Yuta’s fingers were rolling the beads of his colorful bracelet pensively. He hummed in amusement. “You know, I know someone who has that same bracelet.”

His student perked up ever so subtly upon hearing this. The prying man quickly moved to grasp his wrist and inspect the bracelet closer. It made Yuta feel exposed, wanting to crawl under his covers and not come out again if it meant no one else would lay their eyes on the one connection he still had to you. Gulping thickly, he snatched his wrist back, covering the wooden jewelry protectively under his other hand.

“Oh, you know her, don’t you?” Satoru feigned remembrance, snapping his fingers dramatically. “She used to go here.”

The stunned boy stammered out your name in question. It still felt so natural, so effortless rolling off of his tongue despite the prolonged period that had passed since he’d uttered those syllables.

“Yeah! Saw it on her just last week.”

All the blood seemed to drain from Yuta Okkotsu’s face. His wide, haunting eyes suddenly transfixed hazily on the smiling man before him in a manner that would have been terrifying had it been directed at a stranger. You still wore the bracelet he got you? The prospect had his mind spinning, and his stomach churning anxiously. The poor guy looked as though he would short circuit at any moment; brows twitching into a deep furrow, the corners of his lips fluttering in uncertainty. He blinked a few times before looking up at his sensei with a new sense of determination clouding his eyes.

“Where did you say she went?”

Bingo!

The clock’s ticking mocked you menacing as you raced to finish your assessment notes within the hour. Kaori was always merciful with you, understanding that you were still learning and would likely take more time with things, but you couldn’t help but urge yourself to do better.

It had been almost a year that you had been studying while working alongside the counselor, and you had blossomed in a way you never thought would have been possible. Granted, you weren’t able to do any of what you had lovingly labeled as ‘the fun stuff’ yet, you had adjusted surprisingly well to the countless intake assessments and documentation your mentor had entrusted you with. Of course, it wasn’t the same as having a second counselor there with her, but anything helped ease the weight of her overwhelming caseload. She knew it was good experience for you too.

Despite her hectic schedule, Kaori still found time to meet with you often to check in regarding the struggles that brought you to her in the first place, insisting it would be a crucial step in your training as well. Slowly but surely, you were beginning to rebuild that confidence in yourself and your own purpose in this monstrous world. It felt cathartic, being a part of the process of healing for those torn down by the very things that hurt you so long ago as well. It was meaningful— fulfilling.

You wondered if this was how Yuta felt when he was out there, helping people as well, just in his own way. A sharp pang struck you each time your mind wandered too far though, and you were always quick to reel it back in.

Your bottom lip was caught ruthlessly between your teeth, and it seemed the clacking of your keyboard was fighting against the ticking of the clock for dominance. A small spark of defeat struck you as you heard the door of the office creak open. Looking up at the time, your brows furrowed in confusion. You were sure that you had already completed the last intake Kaori had scheduled for you today. Scrambling into the drawer beside you to pull out a new form, you hoped you would at least look somewhat prepared whenever the unexpected patient came to your desk.

“Hi, there!” You called out from your tucked away cubicle, fumbling to save the document you were working on. “I’m back here, you can come on in.”

Slow footsteps approached closer and closer before pausing in front of your desk. Pushing the hair from your eyes, you looked up with a warm, inviting smile.

Oh.

The smile on your face slowly faded as Yuta Okkotsu towered over your desk. It wasn’t the version of him you once knew; this one was taller, more refined, more calculated with the manner in which he held himself. His wide, midnight-blue eyes regarded you carefully, but his face revealed nothing. Your mouth opened and closed pathetically, your mind desperately trying to catch up with the way your day had suddenly progressed. Stepping forward, he calmly sank down into the chair in front of you, hands gripping the arms casually.

“Yu—”

“I heard you offer counseling for sorcerers, right?” He was suddenly smiling sweetly at you, but there was a controlled glint in his eyes— holding him back. Not allowing you to respond, he continued. “Well, I have some things to get off my chest, so it’s lucky I found you, huh?”

You sank back into your chair, allowing the papers in your hands to slip from your fingers and swoosh softly onto the desk. Nodding gently, you urged him to go on, anxiety balling up in the pit of your stomach. He launched off on a long-winded story, one you already knew like the back of your hand— you lived it, after all. Your already knowing the climax didn’t stop the furious blush that overtook you as he recalled the letter he’d found in his dorm upon his arrival back to Tokyo.

“She always had this sweet way of signing off all her letters to me.” Yuta recounted with a soft smile, eyes glimmering as they looked back at you. Yours, on the other hand, were holding back the dam of tears that had been building up for countless months. As the first tear slipped down your cheek, you saw his resolve start to crumble, gaze chasing the drop as it raced down your skin. His bottom lip trembled. “She signed that last one— she signed it off ‘forever yours’, but I never saw her again.”

“Yuta—”

“Why didn’t you just tell me you weren’t happy?” He finally snapped, his own tears swimming in his eyes. Bracing his hands on the desk, he leaned forward desperately. “I would’ve understood, I would’ve—”

“I tried! I tried to tell you, but you were so sure that I was going to get through it. How was I supposed to look you in the eyes after you gave up so much of your life to train to be better? How was I supposed to tell you I was giving up?”

“You promised me!” His cry rang out in the quiet office, shoving his chair back to stand over you once again. You heard Kaori’s office door open abruptly, likely startled by the perceived altercation. Despite his dominating presence and lingering stance, you couldn’t find it in you to be intimidated by him. You shook your head softly toward your mentor, letting her know you were fine. As the door hesitantly shut once again, Yuta was sinking closer to you despairingly. “I would’ve come back for you— I wouldn’t have cared where I had to look, okay? I wouldn’t have cared that you left everything— but you weren’t supposed to leave me.”

His wounded tone finally caught up to you, and you let your head fall down onto your crumpled hands as you cried. Yuta sighed softly, almost regretting his stinging confession. Quickly looping around the desk, he settled down on his knees in front of you and turned you to face him.

“I’m sorry, Yuta.” You cried, falling into him as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you from your chair. He was stronger than you last remembered him being, but his touch was just as delicate. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Hey, it’s okay. We’re here now, right?” He assured gently, pulling you away from his chest so he could look at you with a smile, tears still clinging to his lashes. His cool hand ran down from your shoulder to your wrist, and he traced the bracelet that hadn’t come off your wrist since you received it. A soft flush covered his cheeks. “You kept it, huh?”

“You kept yours, too.” You laughed breathlessly, wiping at your cheeks with one hand and grasping his bracelet with the other.

“I told you, I always meant everything I said to you. I still do.” His words almost made you break down again, but you worried if you started boo-hoo crying again that Kaori might just burst through the door with more determination than she had last time.

So instead, you took a moment to glance over his matured face, shaking your head in amusement upon seeing those familiar dark circles still hanging under his eyes. Your heart clenched as your eyes ran across the small scar that Maki left on his forehead. When you met his gaze once again, it gave you pause. Yuta had that look in his eyes— the same one he had all those years ago before he left for Kenya. The rapid patter of your heart could be felt in your throat.

Despite your nerves, your lips twitched up into a knowing smile. You reached up tentatively to place a hand over your right eye, covering the scar that had stopped him all those years ago. He pursed his lips at this action and shook his head. In an instant, his long fingers were wrapping around your wrist to pull your hand away from your face.

“Don’t.” Yuta said simply before leaning down to capture your lips in his, more assuredly than his sixteen year old self ever could have dared to, but just as sweetly as the boy who promised to come back to you would have.

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

[tinytennisskirt]

Hall Pass

Patrick Zweig x Art'sGirlfriend!Reader

Summary: Patrick has been wanting Art's girlfriend for too long. He's not proud of it. When you, Art, Tashi, and Patrick go to a frat party, Patrick finds himself in a compromising position alone with you and maybe... gives in.

Warnings: drinking, mentions of masturbation, slight blowjob, patrick going down, tipsy sex (consensual), yearning, cheating but it's not actually cheating...

Patrick hated wanting you. It was the worst part of his every day. Crossing paths with you, he hated every moment. Seeing you after your classes, he hated every second. Every millisecond he spent alone with you he hated with an incredible fiery passion and it was awful- because what he hated more than anything is what it would do to Art if he found out just how badly Patrick wanted his girlfriend.

It was Jessie’s Girl on the radio. Stupid fucking song, Patrick thought. You, Tashi, Art, and Patrick were sitting in your dorm room talking about tennis. Art had his arm around you, leaned up against the wall on the pink comforter of your elevated bed. Every now and then, Patrick noticed how you leaned your head toward Art and he would kiss your forehead in the sweetest of ways and it was just sickening.

Tashi snapped in Patrick’s face. “Earth to Patrick?” She said, gesturing in question. Patrick turned his head.

“Hm?”

“What did you think of Art’s backhand today?” She asked. Patrick looked at Art, then back at Tashi.

“It was fine, I mean he didn’t lunge enough on that first big one, but it was fine.” He half-assed a response. He looked at you, pretending to understand the conversation. You weren’t at Stanford for tennis, you were there for creative writing and Patrick knew just how disinterested and tired you must have been from being at the court all day and coming back just to talk about tennis. “Can we change the topic though, Tashi? We’re boring Y/N to death.” He gestured to you.

You chucked, “I’m fine, I’ll live.” You said. Art chuckled and apologized. You were sweet the way you smiled, the way your lips pulled back to reveal the prettiest teeth. Patrick fucking hated it. “I do have to ask if you guys heard about the party later?”

Everyone perked up, even Tashi, who was usually still stuck on the topic of tennis. “At the frat?” Art asked.

“Yeah,” you replied, small smile still there. “We could go to that if you guys aren’t tired. I know Patrick has been in need of an excuse to drink for ages now.” You referenced him and it took all he had not to explode. You made it so hard to breathe around Art, it practically suffocated him.

“Yeah, we can go,” Art said, sitting up. His arm removed itself from around you and Patrick hated his internal rejoice. “They start at like, nine right?”

Tashi stood up, “Nine. That’s in forty minutes, meaning we are kicking you both out and meeting you at Art’s dorm to pregame. You still have the giant vodka bottle right?”

“Under my bed,” Art grinned and stood up before kissing you goodbye. Patrick had to look away. “Sounds perfect. See you soon.”

Art pulled Patrick out of the room, leaving you and Tashi to get ready. The moment they were out of the room, both boys braced each other with excitement. Frat parties meant unbridled college drinking and quite possibly a cigarette or two as well as girls in minimal clothing. Patrick recalled the last time you all went to a party, you wore a t-shirt that looked a little too snug on you and when you were drunk you confessed to Patrick you bought it in the kids section of the thrift store. Patrick could not get the thought of you in the little shirt out of his mind for weeks after that.

“Tonight you can make a move on Tashi,” Art said, punching Patrick in the arm. It snapped him out of his trance once again. “Once the drinks get on, you know, make your move.”

“Not sure if I should yet,” You told him. Tashi was your front for liking you. It was simple- if you turned Patrick on in any way, he blamed Tashi if Art asked about it. If he blushed, if he did anything telltale, he blamed Tashi. So Art was sure Patrick was head over heels for her and not you. His cover. “I think I’d like it better if we were sober.” He reasoned. It was a fake reason.

“And let her hook up with some frat guy?”

“It’s college, she can do what she wants. It would mean more sober.” He did not care that much.

“Ah,” Art nodded. The two boys sat in Art’s room and tossed a stray tennis ball back and forth. Art spoke again, “Oh I didn’t tell you but Y/N and I had what was probably the greatest sex of my- hoping OUR lives last night. I’m telling you the ‘coconut’ thing is very real, all credit to her for it.”

Patrick felt nauseous, but the idea of it was enough to pull a pillow over his lap. “Damn, I think I read about that in a magazine. It’s that good?” He had to engage, unfortunately.

“Oh yeah,” Art nodded, raising his eyebrows. “I’ve never had a girl do that to me, it was crazy.”

The conversation went on and it was hard and Patrick was hard and overall it was just a shitty situation and Patrick hated it. He took the deepest breath to get through it. Eventually the conversation was over with a knock on the door. Art was fast to get it. Tashi was visible first.

“You guys didn’t even change,” she said.

Art shrugged, “Should we have?”

“Probably, the theme is traffic lights. You’re wearing green, buddy, that tells women you’re go to hookup.” She pointed at Art’s green shirt. Patrick peered to see if you were behind Tashi, but you weren’t. “Y/N is finishing her eyeliner she’ll be over in a second. You two, change.” Tashi said. She was wearing green, Patrick noticed before she shut the door. Art threw two red shirts on his bed from the dresser under it.

“You going green tonight?” He asked, taking off the shirt he was wearing and tossing it to Patrick.

“For sure,” Patrick grinned. Art took out the big bottle of vodka from under the bed and took a swig before pulling on a red polo shirt. Patrick pulled on Art’s green shirt and did up the buttons but not all the way. He handed Patrick the bottle and Patrick took a swig. Tasted awful with no mixer, Patrick knew you’d complain. He dug in his pockets for change and found he had enough for a bottle of Coke, which he’d get on the way there.

Art opened the door just as you approached Tashi and both of the girls walked in. Patrick’s eyes fell on you all too easily. You were wearing black, a black skirt, a square-neckline tank top. There was no red or green on you, but fuck, you looked gorgeous. Patrick noted your perfect eyeliner and the perfume you usually wore to parties and he hated the way it filled the room when you walked in.

“I don’t own any yellow,” you said, shrugging. Nobody batted an eye. You kissed Art, who was wearing the brightest of reds and Tashi grabbed ahold of the big vodka bottle and took her swig. Patrick didn’t say a word, but slipped out to the vending machine just down the hall, returning with a bottle of Coke which he knew you’d probably need now for a mixer. He put it right in your hands wordlessly, even when you said thank you.

Tashi wore a green tank too much like yours, but it didn’t look the same or as flattering. Patrick wondered if maybe he would turn Tashi into a real distraction, but even if he was drinking, would she really be worth it? He was wearing green, so he probably wouldn’t have to settle for Tashi, but at this point, looking at you in that skirt, that top, focusing on the small sliver of your waist that showed in the middle and the way your collarbones looked against the black of the shirt, he knew he would HAVE to find a distraction tonight. Especially if he was drinking heavily, which he did plan on doing.

You all decided to go around 9:40, just before girls had to pay to get in. Everyone had a decent buzz and you’d filled half of your coke bottle with vodka, so you were set. Patrick found it endearing you couldn’t drink vodka straight- kind of cute. Patrick tried to ignore how you and Art walked hand-in-hand. He took the big bottle and took another large swig.

The party was loud and pretty packed on both floors. Stuffy, too. You immediately dragged Tashi away to dance with you, a complete lightweight. Patrick decided to occupy himself by teaming up with Art at cup pong. The beer was flowing, the vodka was passed around and girls were asking Patrick to come with them downstairs, upstairs.

“I’m going to find Y/N!” Art yelled to Patrick over the music. Patrick nodded, being pulled one way by a redhead who looked nothing like you. Any distraction he could take, really. She kissed him but he hated it. She was sloppy, slobbery, and he made an excuse and walked away. He spotted you and Art, and even with the alcohol you’d had it was not easy to see how you kissed him. You were shorter than Art was, which meant you were shorter than Patrick and the kiss was strong and Patrick just couldn’t look away no matter how much it hurt to see. He hated it. Every second of it.

He turned away and shook his head, saving himself. And he walked up the stairs just for a better view of things. He opened doors to multiple people making out, but the room at the end was surprisingly empty. And Patrick entered and locked the door. He laid down on the bed on his back, the ceiling spinning and the music downstairs muffled but echoing around his head.

Why did you have to be so hot? Why did you have to be so gorgeous? Fuck, it was stupid how into you Patrick was, so head over heels and dumb over you. A million girls at a party and all he could think about was you, just you, only you, all you. You and Art, kissing, touching, the details of the sex just spun around his head. It made him hard, he hated it, he hated how guilty it made him feel. He hated thinking about your perfect waist in that top, he hated thinking about your tits in that top, he hated thinking about what you’d look like without it. It was stupid. Patrick rubbed his eyes and swore at himself. “Fuck.” And tried to put you out of his head. He waited for the boner to die down before going back out to the party to hopefully find a distraction and keep it so that he kept away, but the second he opened the door, there you were. Outside of it. “Y/N,” he said.

“Patrick!” You greeted him. “I’ve been waiting for the bathroom for like ten minutes.”

You were drunk. Patrick peered back into the master bedroom he was in, “There’s one in here?” He suggested. You slipped past him in seconds, your scent wafting. He shut the door behind you. He waited until you came back out, guarding the door just in case.

“Thank you,” you said, fixing your skirt as you came out of the bathroom. “Have you seen Art, by any chance? He said he was going to play cup pong but I didn’t see him.”

“I haven’t,” Patrick answered, eyes lingering on your frame.

“That’s fine,” you nodded, walking over to Patrick. You stood in front of him, looking up. “Have you seen Tashi?” You asked. Patrick stepped back. “Okay, are you afraid of me, what’s that about?”

He didn’t think you’d notice. “I haven’t seen… Tashi and no, not afraid.” Patrick chuckled, even through the alcohol. He hardly had it in himself to laugh, he was going through every possibility right now. He hated that he was alone with you, he wanted you to leave, he actually was quite afraid at the moment.

“You stepped back,” you said. “Do I smell bad or something?"

“Not at all, you smell good,” Patrick spoke faster than he could think. “I’m just- maybe we should find Art.”

“Or we could just stay here and let him find us. It’s so much quieter in here.” You stepped toward him again and brushed your hair behind your ears. “You’re tall. I never noticed just how tall you are.” You told him. He almost laughed, he would have if you were anyone else. “What is your problem?” You asked, sounding almost offended.

“Nothing, nothing,” Patrick said. He hated how close you were to him. He hated how good you smelled, he hated how he was above you and could see you all too clearly. “Nothing is my… problem.” He swallowed hard. He had too much to drink for this.

“I’m surprised you’re in green,” you said, changing the topic again. Drunk you was all too believing, at least you wouldn’t catch on. “I thought maybe you’d have yellow because of things with Tashi. But Tashi is also in green.”

“Tashi isn’t my type,” Patrick let slip. You looked at him curiously- he hoped you wouldn’t remember. “And you’re in black, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means I don’t own anything yellow,” you reminded him, stepping closer when Patrick took another step back. Patrick was about to start sweating even in the air conditioning of this one specific room. You looked at Patrick through your eyelashes and he fought all the blood in his body from moving downwards. He debated running, he debated leaping out the window, anything. He didn’t even want to meet your eyes. “Patrick.” You said his name and he was throbbing. He hated you, he hated this, he hated this room, this bed, this lighting, your stupid lack of yellow.

Yellow?

“You were going to wear yellow?”

“Mhm,” drunk you nodded. “I like red but it’s not me.”

“Yeah…” Patrick said. He stepped back and you stepped forward. He was truthfully very afraid of this version of you.

“Art likes red, he used to be green, but now he likes red. And I’ve never been a red kind of girl.” You continued. He stepped back, and you stepped forward. Patrick was a lot bigger than you, but he was being backed into a corner. “I like yellow a lot more.”

“Yeah but Art likes red, so there’s that and…you…” Patrick said with almost a panic to his voice. His heart beat fast in his chest, he couldn’t finish his sentence the way you were looking at him. “Fuck, Y/N, I’m so confused.”

You grinned and put your hands on your hips, you were so gorgeous when you smiled like that. Patrick’s insides did a backflip. You shook your head, your perfect hair flowing. “Art is red, I am yellow. Art knows I’m yellow.” You said. Patrick shook his head. There was silence and you blinked hard before speaking in the flattest tone.

“Patrick, I know you want to fuck me.”

He went cold. His whole body went cold. He wondered if he was hearing things, he wondered if she really just called him out here, drunk, in a room alone. He must have been dreaming of having a nightmare but it was something for sure. All he could choke out was, “H-hm?” You looked at him knowingly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said.

“So you’re going to pretend like you haven’t been thinking about it all night?” You prodded. Fuck, Patrick thought, I’m losing my mind. He was thinking maybe he had alcohol poisoning because you were sweet and you were cute and what you just said was... hot.

Patrick played dumb. “Thinking about what?”

“What it would feel like to fuck me.” You answered, too bluntly. Maybe he was dead and this was an afterlife. “I know you think about it. I know when you want it. I know you’re not that into Tashi.” You called him out. His skin burned red hot. You were reading his mind. He had no idea you, so sweet, could talk like this. Could even revolve around this.

“Y/N, I- you can’t be saying shit like that,” as if he wasn’t hard. As if you didn’t notice every time you’d made him hard before.

“Like it’s not true, Patrick. Tell me it’s not true.”

He blinked. He couldn’t. “I-“

“Fuck me.” You said. You didn’t ask.

“Whatttt the fuckkk,” Patrick dragged out. This wasn’t real. This was some wet dream. He wanted to say yes, he wanted to say no. He never hated you more than he did in this very moment. “I can’t.”

“You can, I know you can,” you said, stepping closer. “I want you to.”

This was scripted. This was a test. This was evil. All the possibilities ran through your head. “Why?” That is all he could choke out.

“Art likes sharing with you, does he not?” You gestured to Art’s shirt he was wearing. “Patrick, I know you want to. I’m not asking.”

“Fuck, I-“ he would consent. He would consent a thousand times if it wasn’t his best friend's goddamn girlfriend. You looked at him with those eyes, those eyes he absolutely hated. You were perfect and you were asking for it, and you were still Art's. You were Art's.

Fuck, this was awful. And there was nobody Patrick hated more than himself when he kissed you.

Full force, so hard you stumbled backward. His large hands cupped your face. You tasted sweet like cherry coke and kissing you was everything he’d wanted and fucking more. You kissed back with more than he had even been able to imagine, hands gripping his shirt tight. Art's shirt. You were Art's. You were everything.

Patrick didn’t waste a fucking second, his hands traveled smoothly down from your jaw to your chest, your waist-god your perfect fucking waist- your hips, your ass. You wrapped your arms around his neck and there was nothing more guilt-bringing than the way your lips grazed along his jaw and neck, kissing a trail so easily.

You weren’t sloppy, despite the alcohol, it felt calculated, it felt fucking good. He wondered still if he was dreaming but the crude awakening was that this was wrong. It might have been everything, but it was wrong and it was shady and it was fucking dirty but you were here and you were kissing him and you were locking the door, and fuck, you were too perfect.

From the second he met you, Patrick wanted you. You’d kept him up at night, distracted him during the day, you threw his tennis game and for all of that he hated you. He hated your perfect fucking lips, how soft they were, how they felt when you got on your knees, undid his fly, pulled away boxers and put them over his dick. He hated your soft hands and how they assisted. He hated your perfect eyes, your perfect eyelashes that you looked up at him through. He hated the noise you were forcing out of him as your head bobbed. It took all he had not to push your head down, but he wasn’t an asshole despite how desperate he was to feel more of you.

“Fuck,” Patrick groaned. The sight was too much. The guilt set in the more he looked at you, perfect, on your knees for him. You were Art's. He stopped you, though. But only to kiss you again. The bed was right there but he dropped to his knees on the fluffy carpet and kissed your neck, down your neck. You raised your arms and he practically ripped your shirt off to reveal you in the most perfect bra he’d ever seen. God, you were so beautiful. You arched your back and Patrick didn’t miss a beat unclipping your bra with one hand. You threw it across the room.

His mouth traveled down your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth. The small whine you made was fucking intoxicating and there was something to be said about the way it made his cock twitch. Kissing down your stomach, Patrick unzipped your skirt. It was all too easy.

This was so wrong, he thought, looking at the lace of your underwear. No shirt, no skirt, and shoes already gone. O,h it was so crude, the way you slipped your underwear down right then and there, leaving yourself entirely bare for him on the floor. He discarded his pants and boxers, pulling off Art’s shirt. It landed with the lightest thud and there was nothing left there shared by Patrick and Art but you.

Patrick kissed down your stomach, sick as he imagined Art doing the very same. But he wondered how good Art was as Patrick gently opened your legs to reveal just how soaked you were. Practically dripping. There was nothing, no morals going to stop him from burying his face in you. And he did just that.

“Fuck!” You cried out as heat spread throughout your whole body. “Patrick!” You squealed as he licked gently over your clit. He’d barely done anything- but Patrick took pride in his tongue skills, so it wasn’t too surprising. And you tasted perfect- better than he had imagined. Sweet, but the way someone should. And it was more intoxicating than anything alcoholic present. He pushed his face into your cunt, licking as deep into you as he could, licking stripes all the way up and all the way down and drawing circles on your clit with his tongue. You squirmed at all of it, breathing heavily, unable to control the noises you were making. He seemed to have found a sweet spot not on, but near your clit and he tongued a pattern into it and snuck his fingers over, gently rubbing above your entrance before slipping his pointer and middle finger into you. Your back arched, bringing him closer as he simultaneously pumped his fingers into you and licked.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you moaned. “Oh god.” You pulled his hair, and you gripped the carpet. Patrick, who was untouched, finished right then and there. As he let out a strained groan, he didn’t stop either action. His fingers pumped in and out of you, wet, soaked, tongue tasting you without end. “I’m going to-“ you moaned and breathed heavily, “Fuck, Patrick, don’t stop!” You ordered. Feeling you tighten, he only worsened his pace and in seconds you came undone on his hand and face.

Your chest heaved, your eyes shut. Patrick was drunk on you, he was dazed- he was so fucked. But you were a slut, apparently. His at the moment, turning around where you lay on the carpet and climbing onto the bed. Patrick was so fucking glad he had two condoms in his pocket that he dug into there was nothing that could stop him from fucking you absolutely senseless at the moment. He was frenzied, out of control and this was so fucking wrong, but with your taste still on his lips how could he not?

He got up, rolling the condom on as you situated yourself on the bed, ass facing him. He was dreaming, this was not real. You weren't real, but you were Art's. Patrick couldn't help himself. “This is okay?” He asked, just making sure. He itched for it, he had itched for it for what felt like forever, and at this point, his desperation and the situation were too much. All of his morals were fucking destroyed.

“Yes.” You said with enough enthusiasm that Patrick had no problem fucking into you from behind. You cried out in pain, not used to something so thick, but you were so wet, it slipped in like nothing. And Patrick grabbed your hips hard enough that tomorrow you’d be bruised. And he fucked you shamelessly as if Art wasn’t even a factor in this equation. It was so wrong, but back arched and stomach against the bed, you were his at the moment. His to fuck. Who cared about the aftermath when you felt so good?

You were perfect and tight and wet and the noise of skin on skin was like music. You cried out every time Patrick thrust into you, feeling him absolutely fill you every single time. He wondered if Art ever fucked you this hard, filled you so well. He wondered if you sounded like this with him, a moaning mess.

“Fuck!” You cried out, “Harder!” As if you weren’t already taking it hard and fast. Patrick had no problem slamming into you, rough as if this had been months in the making. As if he didn’t picture this every time he was alone in bed. As if he didn’t dream about this. You grabbed onto the bed for dear life and Patrick was nearing his end.

“I’m so close, you feel s- you feel so good,” Patrick choked out. It was too easy, but he didn’t want it to be over. The warning was good enough for you apparently because you purposefully tightened around him, pulling him dangerously close to the edge. “Fuck, you feel amazing.” Patrick groaned.

“Fuck me harder,” you begged. And Patrick used all of the force he had to fuck you, the headboard slamming against the wall so hard it put a small dent in it. You moaned so loudly, Patrick swore to never let that sound go and saved it like an audio file to his memory. “I’m so-“

“Fuck, I’m going to come,” Patrick said.

“Yes,” you moaned. “Fuck, Patrick.”

He gripped your ass and waist and pulled you back onto him as he fucked you harder than ever and you almost shrieked from how good it felt to be so filled, so fucked as Patrick spilled into you. Your mouth hung a little open as you followed suit, letting out every noise you felt and breathing heavily. Patrick swore as he finished that he saw a flash of light, something of the sort, maybe he saw God. His orgasm was long, leaving him practically twitching and he filled the condom with everything he didn’t know he had.

You were a sweet girl, no wonder you liked it rough. Patrick was sweaty, fucked out, and pulled out, pulling off the condom and collapsing flat on his back. You sighed and laid there, absolutely ruined. Your mascara streaked down your face from how good you were fucked.

“Oh my god.” This post-nut clarity was the worst. It hit Patrick that he just fucked the living daylights out of his best friend’s girlfriend. The guilt came at him like a semi-truck. Patrick had just fucked up majorly, he was starting to think up ways to disappear. “Fuck.”

“Hm?” You mumbled, absolutely whipped.

Patrick rubbed his face, trying to get rid of the feeling, but it settled in. Fuck, he had just fucked the girl he was completely obsessed with but at what fucking cost? She was drinking, he was drinking, what the fuck would they do about this? How would they get out of this?

“I’m fucking awful,” Patrick groaned and not in the good way. He cleaned up with a nearby tissue and put his boxers and pants back on. His heart beat fast in his chest, he wasn’t rested enough from the sex so it all came like a headrush.

“Why?” You asked, still laying perfectly naked on the bed

“The fuck do you mean why?” Patrick said a bit more harshly than he intended. “I just fucked my best friend’s girlfriend.”

“Oh relax,” you said, sitting up. You were so perfect, Patrick couldn’t hate anything about you. “He’s fine with it.”

Patrick choked on absolutely nothing and it turned into a cough. “He’s what?”

“He said I could,” you replied, pulling your bra back on, then your shirt. Patrick stood there, dumbfounded, putting his shirt back on. “Patrick, it’s okay.” You chuckled.

“How? Why?” He put his hands behind his head, just dumbfounded.

You slipped into the bathroom and Patrick waited for your reply. What the fuck- what the fuck? Part of Art knowing was so fucking embarrassing but at the same time confusing? You slipped back out, “I’m yellow tonight, remember? Art knows. And he likes that it’s you and not some stranger.”

“He let you? He knows?”

“Oh yeah. And I wouldn't go for anyone else anyways. You grinned, putting your underwear and skirt back on. “That was… I’m… you were.” He didn’t expect to face you stuttering. “I’ve never been eaten out like that before.”

Patrick laughed and you giggled. Somehow, in some fucked up way, he was in the clear? He guessed it was Art-like to share his girlfriend. But there was no way- “Really?”

“Never. You're good.” You smiled your winning smile and both of you fixed yourselves up again without talking about it. Patrick was more than satisfied and satiated. All of that was crazy, but so good. He'd finally have to stop using his imagination late at night now. He wondered how much Art actually knew... Like clockwork, there was a knock on the door. Patrick's heart still skipped. You hopped over and answered the door.

"Found you," Art grinned. You smiled and kissed him, wrapping your arms around his neck, and for once, it didn't make Patrick feel sick. He'd kissed you too now, it was easier to self-insert. He almost laughed at the thought. "You guys okay?"

"Oh, yeah," You nodded. "I'm gonna go find Tashi and we can go in a bit!"

"Sounds good," Art said. Patrick silently wished you wouldn't go, but you were gone. Art came in and shut the door. "You guys..." He lead on. Patrick's heart raced. But Art just laughed, "Did she do the coconut thing?"

Patrick rubbed his eyes, still a little shellshocked at the situation. Art knew his best friend, "You're her hall pass. I already took mine when we started dating." Art continued. "We both had one for our college eras. Plus, I don't really mind all that much. Thought I would, but it's you, so."

His heart slowed just a little, "Hall pass." he repeated like it was foreign. Art walked over and clapped Patrick on the back, their faces close.

"Yeah. It kept things interesting." Art said with a grin. "So are you going to tell me about it or are you just going to stand there looking like you've seen a ghost?"

Patrick couldn't help the grin that came with that true relief. He hadn't fucked himself over, Art was asking about it like you were something shared. Laughing over it, even and answering all his questions, asking your own. You were now, hall pass wearer of the year, with the door between two best friends. As bad as Patrick was feeling about it still- he knew he'd be satisfied from now on. The relief was also that he couldn't hate you so much now. It would be easier for sure.

As far as this went, it was rarely referenced from that point on. Things moved forward like nothing even happened. It was easy and natural and done with. But nobody truly forgot, not Patrick, for sure. Something to go down in your college-era lore and nothing more.

[thatfreshi]

As a prompt - maybe Astarion (or Tav for that matter) going absolutely feral (and i mean really) when someone or something hurts badly the other (or try to) ?

I don't know of it has already been donc by you and if it has sorry, really appreciate your writing though ! Thank you <3

Learning to trust is difficult

tw - themes of death, talk of injuries

"I just don't know how you don't seem to care! It's bad Astarion, really bad, and I'm not going to sit here and watch you hurt."

While you and the vampire were on night watch, you got jumped by some thieves scrounging around in the woods of the Sword Coast. He took the brunt of the fight, taking quite a couple slices to the abdomen.

"We'll wait til morning, like I said. Shadowheart will be rested by then, and we'll all be fine."

"Oh right, so you can bleed out? You think you're such a jester, don't you."

You already dealt with the perpetrators, making sure they were flayed across the grass, any hopes they had of stealing from you shot down from miles away.

"If it were that bad I would wake her Tav, but it's not."

Gods, he's frustrating. Driving you to the point of madness, constantly. For someone who finally has a second chance at life, he can be quite reckless. Instead of trying to argue with him further, you walk over to where he's propped himself against his bedroll, and start undressing his wounds. He almost tries to push you away, but the lightest touch of the cuts makes him lose his strength.

"Tav, stop it."

"No! Because you can wrap these all you want, but if you leave these like this overnight it's going to get nasty, and I know for a fact you can't stitch wounds like this."

"Then it is was it is."

"No, I'm getting her. Stay here."

Astarion grabs at your wrist. There's a dreary silence for a moment, and he refuses your eye contact.

"I've done this by myself, for how long? Do you have any idea what it makes me feel like, having to turn to someone who is practically a stranger, and put my life in their hands? I did that once my love, and I have regretted it ever since."

And you know exactly what he's talking about, that night in the alley, fragmented memories only covered up by digging through six feet of dirt.

"You would've died though."

"Perhaps it would have been best that way."

You know that no selfish reason you have about wanting him around could ever make up for all the things he endured under Cazador, that if he had bled out that night he would at least be at peace.

"This is different though. We're all working together, we all want the same things. Shadowheart isn't going to hold this over you."

"You don't know that. I mean look at me. I planned on seducing you and getting rid of you as soon as I could, all to keep myself safe. We will never truly know what the others want, what their intentions with us are."

"Then why trust me?"

He hesitates as you wrap his abdomen once again.

"I... I don't know... You're just, different."

"Then what's to say Shadowheart isn't also different? Or any of them for that matter?"

You cup his face in your hand.

"It's just easier to risk one of you. To risk loving you, and only you. Because if you betray me? Then I've played myself for a fool, and I can't have two knives in my back."

"You don't have to trust her Aster, but you need her right now. We need her, because I can't lose you either."

Your hand trails to his, and you feel at each other's fingers for a few long moments. He tries to come up with something to say, knowing he will most likely bleed out if you two don't wake the cleric.

"You trust me right? You're making that risk at least, taking that chance? Then trust that I'm trying to make the right choice for you."

Even if he doesn't bleed out, he doesn't deserve to writhe in pain all night, to which you're sure he would say something about how he's done it a million times before. Why, why does he try to be strong for you?

"Alright my love, wake her."

You get up without a word, planting a quick kiss on his forehead before leaving the tent, your feet gliding to where Shadowheart is sleeping.

"Shadowheart, we need you."

She's a light sleeper, like most of you, and wakes with the few simple words you speak.

"What it is?"

The cleric asks as she walks with you.

"Astarion. We had some unwelcome visitors on watch. It's... it's not pretty."

You come back to your tent, gently moving the fabric by the entrance as Shadowheart moves to him, focused on doing what needs to be done. She unwraps the bandages and you come to his side. He's silent.

"Lady of Sorrows, this is horrific Astarion. How long have you let this sit like this?"

It takes him a moment to muster the words, still clearly embarrassed to be receiving her help this late. You've learned though that he hates people speaking for him, so you just wait.

"It's been about half an hour. Tav and I have been arguing about getting your assistance. They insisted we wake you, and I insisted we shouldn't bother."

"Well, you're lucky Tav isn't as stubborn as you are, because this is nasty. While I'm not as familiar with vampire anatomy, this would not have sat well overnight."

She takes a moment to gather herself, before casting healing touch, letting the magic linger a little longer than normal. You watch as his pale skin slowly comes back together, stitching itself up like embroidery thread. Shadowheart takes a moment to admire her work, smirking slightly. Her expression then becomes somber for a moment.

"As much as I'm not the sappy type, please don't hesitate to get me when you need me. Despite how much you all annoy me, I'm still rather fond of you as companions. I would hate to see any of you go too soon, especially over something as simple as this."

Astarion says nothing in return, and soon after the devout Sharran leaves the two of you alone. The two of you lie down, wrapping yourselves up in each other, limbs entangled as if you're scared of being torn apart.

"I know it's hard, but you have to learn to ask for help. If not for yourself, for me. Because I can only do so much my star."

"I know."

"I'm sorry I yelled. It just really scares me, the idea that I could lose you."

He nuzzles into your chest, the movement dampening his voice.

"I don't think anyone's ever been afraid to lose me, except me. And I fear I lost myself far too long ago for it to matter."

You wrap your fingers in his hair, sitting in the sorrow with him.

"All things that are lost can be found. And we'll find you again my love, I promise."

He doesn't thank you, which you don't mind. After all, Astarion isn't used to having anyone to genuinely thank. But the way he lets you hold him, that slowly but surely the walls are coming down, that's his own way of saying it, saying that he's grateful. And as long as he lives to see another day, you'll take whatever he gives you, for as long as both of you live.

[adisillusionedauthor]

Could you do fic for Checo with wife reader where she's Max's older sister and she just worried for them because of how the races could turned badly in a matter of second? Add something you'd like though. Thanks! :)

Fearful Velocity - Sergio Pérez and Max Verstappen

Requested by: Anon

Masterlist<3

Pairing: Checo x spouse!GN!reader, Max x Sibling!reader

Warning: OOC Checo, OOC Max, fluff, sweet, concern about loved ones, Max being a sweetie, Checo being a sweetie and bad english

Word count: 713

The team always tries to make everything very comfortable for me when I go see the races in person, being the married and related to their drivers I get some sort of princess treatment, but it somehow doesn’t help the aching feeling that something is going to happen, I shake the thought off of my head once i realize Checo is walking towards me, I start to smile at him opening my arms for him, hoping he’d hug me. 

Of course he obliges and pulls me into a tight hug, since I’m sitting down my head rests comfortably on his chest and he rests his on top of my head, not before giving the top of head a kiss: “You’ve got that look on your face…” He says into my hair softly, I let out a sigh, nothing happens to me without this man noticing: “Is it the usual?” He asks with a knowing look on his face, I’ve shared my concerns with him, even asked him to retire once Sebastian said he’d be leaving F1, but it didn’t work, he wants to race longer; “Yup… It’s like this every weekend that there’s a race, but this time… It feels different, like something is going to happen…” I say, sharing this strange feeling makes my chest somehow feel lighter, Sergio pulls me even closer if that’s even possible, but before he could say something we could hear my younger brother’s voice saying “Ew!” from behind him, Checo turns with an more serious look which makes Max realize I’m worrying over them again.

He comes hug me for a while on Checo’s place while he goes get ready for today, Max keeps telling me that serious accidents barely ever happen, that there’s no need for me to get so stressed over this, today is supposed to be a day where I can take a breath and see my boys enjoy themselves on the track and he’s right, it feels weird even thinking about this: “I’m sorry for worrying so much, it’s just… I still see you as that boy who still raced in a kart, it’s weird seeing the little boy I held in my arms accomplish so much… I’m proud of you Max, truly proud” I say smiling at him proudly, in my heart he’ll always that baby my parents brought home when I was still two, he’ll always be my little brother, no matter how many championships he wins or how many podiums he gets: “Don’t you dare say stuff that’ll make me tear up right before a race, I can’t cry now, Y/N” He says while his eyes get glossy with tears, i hug him even closer and then Checo comes back to get Max to get ready for the race: “So… Feeling better about today, mi amor?” He knows that nickname is my doom, I melt into his arms as his fingers run into my hair soothing me even more: “You’re a very unfair man, Mr. Pérez…” I say resting my head onto his shoulder and he laughs gently: “Oh really? Or maybe I just know exactly what I need to do to calm my wife, Mrs. Pérez.”

I blush softly at his words, I’ve been his wife for four years, but everytime he calls me that I feel like I did on our first date, my smile turns even more soft and I answer him: “Maybe… But just maybe, you’ve helped a lot, darling” He smiles back at me happy that he could help me feel a little more safe about him and my brother racing, he gives me three kissed like he always does when he’s about to go race, one on  my forehead promising to keep me on his mind during the race, one on my cheek promising to never let me go and finally one on my lips promising to always love me, I kiss him back showing just as much love as he is into the kiss, when Max comes to call him so they can enter the car and go to the line up, I don’t feel as anxious as I did on the beginning of the day, because I know that they’ll both be okay and if something does happen they’ll have me to take care of them and nurse them back into healthiness just so i can scold them. 

[i4oba]

nct dream as… / movies 𓈒✳︎🪜

[feel free to follow me on letterboxd eheh!]

✰ MARK — 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU

“maybe it was the dose of alcohol in your system, or maybe it was just the rush of adrenaline you got from the people of the party, but when you looked into mark’s eyes, you couldn’t conceal your feelings at all anymore. it was all just fun and games, you weren’t amused at all, hardly deciding on giving attention to his antics… but here we go now – you, ready to throw up, while listening to him speaking his mind, saying whatever he could think of, while the only thing that filled your brain was only one thing: kissing him. kissing him right there and then, in the crack of a night at some random’s place, both taking place at the rusty swing. should you do it? does he actually want you, or are these mere mixed signals?

✰ RENJUN — THE HOLDOVERS

“he could’ve sworn this was by far the best point of his stay at the campus – or, rather away from there, as both him and his teacher took a trip to boston, as it was all supposed to be, am i right? ice skating, searching for books on the street, deepish talks and a screening at the movie theatre… he felt happy, relieved even, but how long is this going to last him? how long can he rely on the sole feeling of relief when he cannot be so sure when it’s gonna end all so suddenly? is he selfish, or is he rather self conscious? his arm was hurting badly, aching, as he leaned back, deciding last minute about what he wants to do – “i need a bathroom break” is all he says.”

✰ JENO — FOUR WEDDINGS AND A FUNERAL

“he had to rub his eyes so hardly when he spotted you, ever so beautiful and ethereal in your light pink dress, smile so charming his heart wouldn’t stop beating way too hardly against his chest. he wouldn’t have thought you two would meet ever again, but here you were – a wedding (again), which was pretty much unwanted and rushed, but he couldn’t even think about how much of a bad choice it was from his best friend to marry this early. all he could focus on was the way you softly talked to one of the guests, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you simply nodded. you only looked up for a minute, maybe two at that, but you definitely noticed jeno’s gaze on yourself. you mouthed something at him, which took him a few moments to solve properly, caught off guard by the never forgotten beauty of yours. “i missed you, jeno”

✰ HAECHAN — NOTTING HILL

“when you looked at him, barely even paying a glance, his breath instantly got taken away by the sight of you. not only because of the fact that you were a top actress, wandering into his bookshop, but because you were stunning as well, glowing, brightly shining in front of him, seemingly searching for something through the shelves, sunglasses sitting atop of your nose. he could’ve easily just take a few steps closer to you, even offer some help, but he was way too flustered to even mutter his name if you asked him. but why would that even happen, right? he’s nothing, compared to you – an angel, he cannot quite capture. and then you came up to the counter, three books in hands… well, maybe he could…”

✰ JAEMIN — BEFORE SUNRISE

“standing next to the train, which would take him to paris, he simply just looked at you, stars in eyes and blush on cheeks, as he reached for your hands, thumbs caressing the back of them ever so slowly – his forehead against yours, you could breathe in the unsaid words that were playing on his lips endlessly, and you could’ve just kissed him, kissed him once and then a thousand times more, so he would never leave. but he had to leave, leave vienna behind, leave the journey behind, leave you and the mesmerizing feeling of blooming love between the two of you. his eyes were rather teary, as you bore into them. “we have to meet here again” you said, both hands on his cheeks, eyes full of certainity. you want this, more than anything. “ten years from now – the same place, the same feelings, the…” would that happen? ever again?”

✰ CHENLE — LITTLE WOMEN

“was he actually interested in the play you wrote or not, you did not even care, as you saw the way his eyes formed such definite half moon shapes, smile so bright and wide, you’d never seen such beautiful sight. he laughed so loudly that it was echoing in the almost empty attic for way too long, as you kept on acting with your sisters, relentlessly and enthusiastically, staying in role even after you saw chenle, wiping his tears of laughter. you took it as a sign – he liked it, he enjoyed it, which was all you needed to be reassured: you did good. not only you, as the writer, but your sisters too, little actresses and primadonnas. chenle wanted to say something, he was keen on letting you know whatever was going through his mind, but he kept it to himself. maybe later, maybe on a different day – maybe when he gathers his courage to tell you he’s madly in love with you?”

✰ JISUNG — DEAD POETS SOCIETY

“with utter and undeniable admiration, jisung simply just looked up from the trembling hands of his, that were previously laying on the crumpled piece of paper he had torn out from his notebook - he wrote the poem with pencil so the letters seemed and were pretty much smudged, but he didn’t even need the paper itsel, he knew his creation by heart, as he rewrote it thousands of times because of sheer anxiety. he wanted it to be perfect, he wanted it to sound like something whitman would adore, something rilke would’ve written in those early years. when his teacher’s voice finally reached his ears, he simply stood up, legs shaking, as he walked out to the front, barely being able to form words, as the fright got over him - “do it, son, i believe in you” was all he heard - he sighed, and then… “unbeknownst to me the feeling of…”

[dearggntlereader]

hi! can i request rhubarb and custard cocktail 🩱 with tasm peter parker? thank you!

You don't have a moment of peace where he doesn't cross your mind, but does he ever think of you?

first time writing for him on this account, I hope you like it <33

Peter has been busy. You know he's been busy and he's told you a thousand times he's busy. What he's actually doing, you don't know.

He never even tried to explain it, just a quick answer of "busy ttyl" whenever you text him.

You feel like you're going insane.

There is probably some sort of explanation but he doesn't care to search for one and you don't care to listen to one.

Yet, as you're sitting in front of the movie theater, the cold air biting into your skin, you desperately wish he had one. You want him to come running, babbling excuses and apologizing over and over.

Instead, you have become accustomed to leaving instead of waiting for him, usually getting a call from him once you’ve fallen asleep to “make up for missing the date” or if you’re lucky he comes by and holds you for awhile, giving you quick kisses on the cheek and forehead.

Whenever you can’t sleep, your mind goes over different potential reasons he could have, wanting to reassure yourself when he isn’t willing too. Cheating is out of the question, right? 

Maybe he just doesn’t care enough about you.

That’s probably it, why else would he miss almost all of your dates and barely text you? He wanted to ghost you and was too scared to actually pull through. What a douche, he could’ve just told you instead of making you wait in the cold for ten thousand times. If he wanted to break up so bad, why couldn’t he have just told you? 

You feel a hot tear run down your cheek and you wipe it hastily. Your harsh movement is accompanied by a soft sniffle.

“Let’s break up.” Is the text you're so close to sending.

You keep staring at it, your mind empty as your stomach ties itself ínto knots. You shake your head and click send before muting your phone and beginning your walk home. Parker can go fuck himself.

Peter’s phone lights up with a text as he lays there, in the cold. Beaten up on an empty rooftop, he’d been sloppy in the fight, trying to get to you as fast as possible.

He still won, but he needed some rest badly as he tried to catch his breath and reach out to his phone. The screen was broken, as well as the shitty camera at the back.

Bad choices were made today and taking his phone with him was probably the least shitty one.

The air is cold and Peter can only hope you're already home and cuddled up warmly in your bed, that you didn’t wait for him too long. 

That was the whole reason he took his phone with him, to make sure he gets to you on time. Now he has a broken phone and you still had to wait for him.

He groans at the pain in his right shoulder as he reaches for his phone, his bruised fingers quickly open your text to tell you he will call in a minute. It’s the least he can do.

He doesn’t get the chance to as he stares at the text from you.

No. Please, no.

He whinces as he stands up, holding his stomach and pulling down his mask again. He’s not far from your apartment, he’ll manage.

You’re shivering, you already closed the window and made yourself comfortable with two blankets. You still feel his absence, even after almost three weeks without his cuddles you still feel the ghost of his warmth, only reminding you more of the current cold.

It doesn’t help that you abandoned your stuffed bunny from the bed. Peter gifted it to you after another missed date to keep you warm. Well, you don't need his stupid warmth.

You pull the blankets tighter and try not to think about the fact that he hasn’t even answered yet.

He left your breakup-text on read.

That is just pure insanity, not even an ‘okay’. Actually, that casual response might have been worse, this way you can delude yourself into thinking he didn’t actually read it.

There’s a knock on the window, presumably from a branch being rattled by the wind, and you’re trying to ignore it and finally fall asleep.

You’ve got a lot to ignore and after a while you’re able to. Atleast, you were until you started hearing voices.

Well, one voice. Peter’s voice telling you to let him in.

You are officially going insane.

“Please,” it’s the pleading tone that gets you. He sounds so utterly desperate that you aren’t able to pretend he’s not there anymore. 

The blankets shift as you turn to face the window and let out a scream. It’s short and quiet but a scream nonetheless as you see spiderman at your window.

Your mind blanks as you stumble out of bed, your pillow falling to the floor on the floor in the process. You hastily open your window and leave space for spiderman to climb in.

He pulls off his mask while breathing heavily. You freeze, you were somewhat aware that Peter had to be spiderman when you heard his voice but the confirmation feels like the floor has been pulled out from under your feet.

His cold hands grab your face and he stares at you with urgency. “Please let me make it up to you. Please don’t leave me” His eyes are watery and desperate as they scan your face again and again. Flitting from your eyes to your lips and then trying to take in your whole face.

“What?,” you ask softly, there is a small smile on your face that you just can’t shake. Is it wrong to like the fact that he is so desperate to get you back. This means he cares.

He takes a deep, shaky breath and his eyebrows draw together. “I’m sorry for everything. I tried so hard to get to you on time, I really did but I should’ve tried harder. I shouldn’t have let you wait. Please forgive me. Give me another chance, please” 

Your chin wobbles and a tear falls from your eye as your throat tightens. You have been trying not to cry since you realized he wasn’t coming and now you can’t hold it in anymore.

Peter’s eyes widen “please don’t cry” His hands hover over your arms as he tries not to cross any boundaries. 

A sob falls from your mouth as you let yourself fall into his arms.

You want to forgive him.

His arms keep you warmer than the two blankets ever could and the gentle way he draws circles on your arms makes you finally forget your sorrows

He hugs you closer and gently kisses the top of your head, before leading towards the bed. You can talk tomorrow, for now he just wants to hug you.

lets ignore how old this request is

[wcnderlnds]

sorry’s not good enough | warren lipka

✧ fluff/angstober day six | “sorry doesn’t fix everything” ✧

・❥・warnings: swearing, mentions of weed & alcohol!・❥・ authors note: it’s my first time writing warren so i’m sorry if it’s awful

Warren Lipka. Now that was a name you hadn’t heard in a couple of years. A name you didn’t want to hear but you had the misfortune of your friend telling you that he was on campus looking for you. Warren was looking for you? Was he absolutely out of his mind? You’d made it clear the last time you’d seen him that you wanted nothing to do with him. Yelled it in his face even but apparently, in true Warren style, he didn’t listen. Nothing seemed to stick in that head of his. Unfortunate considering he was one of the smartest people you’d ever met.

That man was nothing but a thorn in your side. He always had been but along the way you’d fallen in love with him. It was hard not to. He was charming, he had a way with words that could make you feel like the most important person in the world. The two of you had dated your last year of high school and it had been going amazing until Warren fucked it up. You’d caught him kissing some other girl. The second you’d seen his lips lock with hers, it was over. The pain in your chest, the feeling of your heart breaking was something you never thought you’d experience. How naive you’d been. You chewed him out in front of everyone letting him know how much you hated him (which was in fact not true) and you never wanted to talk to him again.

That was the last time you’d seen him. Until now.

Eyes caught his brown ones, his hair still the unruly mess it always was as he headed your way. The fight or flight in you was telling you to run but your heart? Well, that was betraying you. No matter what he’d done, no matter how badly he’d hurt your feelings there was always going to be a part of you that still loved him.

“Just the person I was looking for!” He grinned, acting as if nothing had ever happened.

“What do you want?” Arms folded across your chest, you glared at him.

“Need your help with something.”

“And why would I help you?”

“Because there’s money in it and I know you need it to pay college tuition,” he shrugged, the sly smirk on his face was making you want to slap it right off. But, he was right, you needed the money so it wouldn’t hurt to hear him out.

That was how you’d ended up at this stupid party with Warren. After hearing him out and hearing the whole heist plan, you were hesitant but Warren's determination was enough to squeeze through your walls and let your guard crumble a little bit — he was a smooth talker. The party he’d dragged you to was so you could gather more intel, look for more people who could maybe help you out.

The red solo cup in your hand was empty as you stood in the corner, arm wrapped around your midsection. Parties had never been your thing. Maybe once in a while they were good for a distraction but if you had a choice you’d much rather spend the night in your dorm watching a movie. An arm wrapped around your shoulder and Warren’s familiar scent of weed and sandalwood filled your nostrils.

“Been talking to a few people. Think I’ve found someone else that could help us out. Met him a few years back, fell out with him but I’m sure I could sweet talk him,” Warren said into your ear so you could hear him above the music. A shiver ran down your spine at the familiar feeling of having him so close. Your head tilted to look at him, meeting his eyes.

“Cool. Happy for you,” your reply was sarcastic, half assed, really. You were getting lost in those familiar eyes. Before you could register what was happening Warren's lips met yours roughly, his hand tangling in your hair to hold your head in place. His tongue traced along your bottom lip and you parted your mouth easily, tongues tangling together. It was rough, it was messy but, man, had you missed it.

Finally, you pulled away, Warren’s forehead resting on yours, eyes closed as he caught his breath back. “Missed you.”

“Missed you, too.” It wasn’t a lie. You had missed him but you had to step back. “I should go.”

“Call me tomorrow?”

You nodded your head, heading out into the cold air of the night. Your hand reached into your jacket pocket to call a cab but you realised your phone wasn’t there. It must have fallen out of your pocket when you were kissing Warren. It took just a few steps to get back into the house, heading to where you’d just been but the second you got there, you froze in place.

Warren was there with his tongue down some other girl's throat in the exact same spot he’d been kissing you moments ago. His eyes opened and spotted you. Without a care to the other girl, he quickly came over to you. “I thought you’d left.”

Thankfully, your phone was on the floor so without a word you picked it up and ran to get out of there, trying to fight back the tears threatening to fall. How could you have fallen for his charms again? Warren grabbed your arm to prevent you from leaving. His touch was gentle but firm. “Hey, let me explain.”

“Explain what? I can’t believe I let you do this to me again. I'm such an idiot.” You pulled your arm away from him like his touch burned you.

“I’m so fucking sorry, babe. I’m sorry for everything,” he pleaded, reaching out for you again.

“Sorry doesnt fix everything, Warren. I’m out. I’m done. Don’t contact me ever again, I mean it. Get the fuck out of my life.” It was hard to stop the shaking in your voice, your hand coming up to wipe at your eyes. “You’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Before Warren could say anything, you finally turned and walked away. He let you go this time watching as you walked out of his life for good.

tag list (ask to be added or removed): @xmidnight-rain @juliamaximoff @jazz-berry @honeymoon8 @lemoniiiiiii @evanpetersbf

[pablitogavii]

heyyy maybe you could do a fic where the reader and gavi met and fell in love while she was on her foreign exchange year and when she has to leave, she tells pablo that she’s staying for one more year <3333 tyyyyy💕💕

Destiny

People say things happen for a reason, and you couldn’t agree more. It took you months to convince yourself to take a gap year and do an exchange program in Spain. Right now, you couldn’t imagine your life if you haven’t came to Barcelona and met your man, the infamous footballer Pablo Gavi.

Pablo met you accidentally while ordering himself some breakfast on his way to training seeing you work at the small bakery in town.

It was your way of having money to spend without having your parents send to much but also practicing Spanish.

“Um..para tu café.. quieres um..how to say sugar???” You were struggling badly hoping your boss doesn’t hear since you claimed to be fluent.

“I’d like some sugar, please guapa” Pablo smirked in amusement when he saw your shocked expression that he understood English.

“Umm..o..okay.” You mumbled hearing him call you “guapa” over and over again while avoiding to look into his eyes not wanting to blush like a tomato.

“Do you watch fútbol?” He asked when you brought his coffee and the rest is history…he invited you to once of his games and your story started from there.

From time to time, Pablo still teases you about that day since now you’re fully fluent after speaking to him, friends and his family.

“Cállate cabrón!” You acted annoyed and be would hug you giggling into your neck while leaving open mouth kisses.

“Your cabrón amorcitoo!!!” He said as you cuddled up on the couch giggling to his comment together.

This time with you passed so quickly for Pablo. He would make sure to see your face every single day even if sometimes it had to be just for few minutes before bed. He just wanted to savor that you were close to him not knowing how long that will last. He was scared of asking you to stay..to be with him..to move in finally.

“When is she moving back?” Pedri brought up the question in training and since then Pablo was annoyed whenever he would think about you leaving him so soon.

"What did I say???" Pedri asked Ansu who told him to shut up about that topic around Pablo knowing how secretly sensitive his best friend is.

"He needs to get used to it cause she's leaving soon" Ferran added and when Pablo heard that he felt nauseous rushing back into the dressing room where he sat down crying into his hands.

A few days later, you noticed Pablo feeling unusually sad all the times wondering what's gotten into him so suddenly.

“Hopefully you didn’t forget English, you will need to use it soon” Javi said without thinking during one of the dinners you had with him and Aurora.

Pablo got up walking to the balcony and you looked after him sadly while his sister hit her boyfriends shoulder.

“You had to bring it up huh!??” She said snd Javj apologized but I told him it was all right and that you will bring Pablo back.

“Amor? Que pasa contigo??” You walk up hugging him from behind and resting your chin on his shoulder as he sighed heavily.

“Maybe we should speak English, so you practice for when you leave me…” he said annoyingly and you knew this was his defense mechanism. You walk around snaking your arms around his neck and going on your top toes to kiss his lips.

“Is that what makes you my angry bird, cariño..huh?” You smile excited to tell him the news but decided to do so when you are alone tonight.

“I don’t want you to leave…I’m so used to you now and I just…” he looked so sad and you couldn’t help kissing to shut him up.

“Te amo!!!” You smile and he does as well although weakly since he was still thinking about you being so far away so soon.

“Yo te amo muchisimo princesa” you he said kissing your forehead as you took his hand and walked back inside.

“I’m sorry hermano, didn’t mean to make you sad” Javj said and Pablo nodded saying that it’s not his fault.

“My girl is leaving so soon…” he says and you couldn’t wait anymore hating to see him so sad.

“I’m not leaving cariño…” you say taking a bite and he froze starting at you in disbelief while you chuckled looking at Aurora who was getting excited now.

"W..what???" he said and you giggled asking him to take a sip of water first since he was indeed getting pale and anxious.

"Are you staying!? Tell us hermana!" Aurora was just as impatient and you giggled nodding your head while Pablo was still silent just staring at you in disbelief.

"You can kiss me now cariño..." you said but Pablo was still frozen which was so adorable especially when his gorgeous eyes filled with happy tears. That's all he wanted to hear for so long..that you'll stay..that you won't leave him..that he was your home.

"Unless you don't want me to stay?" you ask and he immediately snaps out of it rushing to your side and grabbing your face before crashing his lips onto yours passionately making everyone giggle.

"Um..um..h..how long?" he was crying now and you were drying his tears kissing his cheeks, nose and finally lips.

"Forever..I got into one of the universities here and I accepted their offer. I want to be here with you Pablito..." you said and couldn't add anything else since he was kissing your again happily.

"Will you stop eating her face so I can hug her too!?" Aurora hit her little brother's head and he got up rolling his eyes at her smiling tho when she hugged you too kissing your cheek happily.

"Thank you for not leaving me with the angry bird Gavira!!! I love you hermana." Aurora said and you both laughed while Pablo groaned rolling his eyes at the little remark. You would always call him 'an angry bird' when he would throw his tantrums but he loved to hear it when it came from you...because you were the only one who could deal with his angry bird.

"My handsome angry bird..." you walked up to Gavi who snaked his arms around your waist while you held his face smiling at his bluhsing cheeks before going on your tip toes and capturing his lips into a sweet kiss.

"Um..I know it might be sudden..and it's totally fine if you eanna keep living alone..but..but..um..would you..maybe wanna live with me instead?" Pablo asked and Aurora smiled wide cheering with Javi while everyone looked at you now waiting for a response.

You just smiled nodding your head and jumping into his arms with your hands snaked around his neck and he spun you around happily thanking god you said 'yes' or he might have made fool of himself.

"Te amo muchisimo!!!" Pablo kept saying in between kisses and you giggled nodding your head trying to say it back but his kisses wouldn't let you talk.

"Congrats hermano!" both Javi and Aurora congratulated you before deciding to leave early and let you enjoy some alone time you both obviously desperately wanted right now.

You were cleaning up the dishes while he took out the trash coming back and snaking his arms around your waist resting his head on your shoulder leaving little kisses on your neck.

"Now that this is our home...I can do this much more often" he said and you blushed nodding you head happy for the future you will share together.

"Stop distracting me Pablito!!!" you said and he giggled promising to behave while you get your work done although you both knew that was not going to last long.

"Thank you for not leaving amor...te amo" he said and you smiled finishing the last plate before turning around and hugging him back before you both started kissing and moving towards your shared bedroom.

You were currently laying with your naked chest glued to Pablo's while he played with your hair and you nuzzled your face into his neck taking in his strong familiar scent. This felt like home...

"It's destiny..." he said and you looked up

"What is amor?" you ask and he leaned down to kiss you sweetly.

"You not knowing how to say sugar in Español..." he teased you per usual and you hit his chest before he laughed getting on top of you and kissing you deeply.

"I hate you!!" you say and he tickled you until you gave up and said "te amo Pablito!!!" which made him let you breathe and pull you close for more cuddles before sleep. ❤️❤️❤️

Hope you enjoyed!!!

[angelismmm]

hii, may I request kitten anemo boys with afab reader? like.. smut, please? 😁

𝄞 — xiao, aether (afab/fem reader) — ❝ my sweet sweet kitty ❞

summary: in heat season, obviously cats start to crave sex a little more, sweatier than usual, hazier vision, and hard 24/7, but your kitty knows better than to disobey you, but why did you have to work late now when he needed you the moost.. he can't help it :(

a/n: no this isn't another part of 'be a good kitty and take it', well atleast not right now, edit: i almost forgot to feed you guys

warnings: nsfw, dom!reader, sub!character

kitty!xiao has a hard time without you especially when he's in heat. did you have to seriously work late tonight? can't you just say you're sick and spend the rest of his heat days with him? he knows he can't touch himself, but he really needs it..

tonight, coming home a little later than usual, xiao clings onto to you like it's life or death, kissing and smothering you in his scent, but his small whimpers whenever he lightly humps your leg don't go disregarded.

"baby, something wrong?" you ask making him face you, face flushed and eyes closed, moaning a little while at it. "n-nothing.. can we just go to sleep?" he asked dragging you upstairs, "you sure-" "yeah! i'm fine everything's okay." he said in a hurry.

all night he couldn't sleep, not without thinking of you stroking him, your pretty face right beside him, he couldn't help but love the idea of you sucking him off, he does really need it.

once you set off again, xiao can't help but touch himself, you won't mind this one time, you weren't there so, maybe you won't be mad! but he seriously can't get off to anything that isn't you, or atleast if it doesnt have your scent!

your pillow for example! it wouldn't hurt to try.. right? he knows you'll get angry and punish him, but that also turns him on. plus getting caught and punished by you didn't sound so bad..

rubbing his cock on the pillow and inhaling you smell made him drool, waves of lust overtaking him, moaning your name loudly. slowly precum drips from his dick, whispering to himself on how close he was to finishing

"having fun, sweetheart?" he gasped looking back to you, leaning on the doorframe. "i- i'm sorry! i couldn't-" you shush him, lying him down on his back on the bed. rubbing his cock, "fuckfuck p-please ahn-", paying him no mind you slowly insert yourself ontop of him,

"oh my sweet sweet kitty, i've been neglecting you a bit haven't i?"

kitty!aether didn't know how he ended up in this situation, neither do you, but you're glad it happened. unlike other kitties, he follows all your rules, will not hesitate to follow orders, breedable, is actually not a brat, yk all that nice stuff.

you don't have favorites, but he is a very good boy for you, but as good of a boy he is, he's equally as horny. anything you do to him during sex he drools for, and i mean DROOL for. he just really loves you and what you do to him, both literally, and sexually

pinch his nipples, cover him in love bites so everyone knows who he belongs to, spank him, talk dirty to him while rubbing him through his thin pants, and he'll cum in minutes! but.. well this cycle really made him feel needy. more than usual, this time he couldn't wait for you to come home

touching himself and toying with his nipples, vibrator in his ass, with one of your belongings in hand, made him more lustful by the second. biting on his lips to muffle his sweet moans, all he could do was imagine it was your hand instead. not realizing someone else's hand is stroking himself, it was you, finally being home, kissing him on the forehead, "my sweet sweet kitty, i'm sorry for not being here to help out, now let mommy treat you better." haha i like the word mommy, been fr waiting my whole life to use it in a fic, AND WHY WAS I STRUGGLING TO WRITE FOR AFAB READER SO BADLY <;/3

[joelswritingmistress]

Last Halloween: Chapter 19

Summary: After a tragedy involving Joel happened on Halloween one year prior, the town now shuns him while ignoring the details of the now closed case. You are seemingly the only one to offer empathy to a man the town is making out to be a monster.

Warning: Angst

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

You didn't leave Joel's side once they allowed you into the room where he was being treated. You held his hand, toyed with his hair, talked softly with him.

"I'm so sorry they did this to you, Joel." You crept into the little bed beside him, kissing on top of a white bandage on his forehead. He squeezed your hand.

"Thank you," Joel said quietly.

For a long while you just laid there beside him, half curled on your side. Most of that time Joel laid on his back with his eyes closed. You cried silently beside him, trying not to sniff in too hard when you finally needed a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," Joel finally said quietly to you.

You lifted your head, pushing tears away from your swollen eyes.

"I say all the wrong things to you," he went on. "Tell you to stay away from me when all I want is you to be right where you are right now."

"I know why you say it," you told him with a steady voice as tears kept coming. "But I know you don't mean it."

"I need you," Joel admitted.

You propped yourself up and sat hovering above him. "I'm going to make things right for you, Joel. I don't know how but I'm going to."

He managed a little smile and touched your face in such a way that continued to make you swoon over him.

"You already have. I don't need anyone's approval in this town except yours."

You kissed the heel of his hand. "I'm in this for the long haul, ya know."

"So am I."

You smiled, but cried at the same time looking at his battered face.

"Don't cry," Joel told you, pulling you against him. "Maybe this is what needed to happen to get Vic off the streets. And then you and I can move on with our lives.." His voice drifted off and he took a deep breath.

When the door opened and two white-haired people walked into the room you picked your head up off Joel's chest. He turned his head slightly and the next word that left his mouth almost left you breathless.

"Mom."

You swung your legs off the side of the bed and rose to your feet. The last thing you wanted to do was intrude on any time he had with his family.

She gave a painful closed mouth smile and let out a sob she couldn't suppress. The older man, who you assumed was his father, placed a hand against the base of her back and trailed her to Joel's bed side.

You backed away to let them greet their son. It made you want to cry even harder but you managed to hold it together as best you could for their sake.

Your first thought was, thank God he has people who love him.

When they turned your attention on you, you gave an awkward wave and Joel quickly introduced you - as his girlfriend.

His mother walked in your direction and as you held out a hand she, instead, pulled you in for a tight hug.

You almost didn't know what to do, but thankfully your brain didn't malfunction too badly and you hugged her back. And then naturally you embraced her and let out a decompressing sigh.

"You brought him back to life," the aging woman whispered into your ear, and then kissed your cheek as if you had known one another for years.

When she pulled back the tears had returned and you cried together before she hugged you again.

"You're the only one who's given him a chance," she finally managed to choke out.

"He didn't do anything wrong," you said, "And I'm going to find a way to let everyone else know that."

Leaving Joel at the hospital wasn't easy, but it was easier knowing his mother and father were there. You felt a combination of things as you got into your car and you weren't able to maintain one emotion. Extreme gratitude that Joel was okay. Contentment that he had a good relationship with his parents, and that they were with him. Fury at Vic Champagne and the entire town.

Your knuckles practically turned white as you drove across town toward the police station. You had one connection and you were about to use it.

Your car squealed to a halt in front of the police station and you rushed inside feeling like you were ten feet tall, ready to bark out orders.

"I need to talk to Steve," you told the young officer at the desk.

"Who are you?"

"I'm-"

"I got it." Steve entered the main lobby from another room and he nodded toward the little nook with two chairs where you had sat with Officer Tate earlier in the day.

"Do you have access to the tapes?" You asked him.

"What tapes?"

"The tapes from the ice cream shop?" You asked. "The security tapes."

Steve looked like he saw a ghost. "I, uh.. I don't know if I can-"

"You said you took this job to serve and protect this community," you said, pointing your finger at him. "And, honestly, it's what made me like you when first met you. Because I believed it."

"I have always been true to this badge," Steve said with a genuine proudness.

"I know." You nodded and looked him in the eye. "That's why you're going to help me. Right now. Tonight."

You saw Steve's Adam's apple viably rise and fall in his throat. That's when you were pretty certain you had him.

"You're going to get me that security footage," you told him.

Steve froze a second time. "That's against policy."

"Fifty years from now when our stories are told, how do you want to be remembered? Because someone *will* tell this story."

The two of you looked one another in the eye for a few seconds before you hammered home your point.

"So, what is your story going to be, Steve?" You asked. "Are you going to be a hero or a coward?"

CLICK HERE FOR CHAPTER 20

@untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @grogusmum @ghostwritesthings @strawbunnyx @ayamenimthiriel @noisynightmarepoetry @jiminstinypinky @tuquoquebrute @pedr0swh0r3 @runningmom94 @mellymbee

[jenniferjareauwife]

I'm Sorry

pairing: maya bishop x fem reader

category: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

word count: 663

request: May i please request Maya bishop x reader,, Reader finds Maya breaking down in the stations bathroom (r is mayas ex and is also a firefighter who changed to night shift so that she wasn't working with maya). She gets in, fully clothed, and holds Maya. (Maya broke up with r like 3 months earlier or something, maya then shows up at rs apartment to apologise.)

summary: request above

I sighed as I took off my jacket. I already knew it was gonna be a long shift just based on the mood I was in when I woke up. I wanted to just go straight to my bunk and sleep until we got a call.

That was until I heard sobbing from a nearby shower. That's weird. I thought I was the first one here. Maybe it was someone from A Shift? "Hughes?" No answer. "Herrera?" Also no answer. There was only one other girl on A Shift. My heart clenched at the thought of her crying. "Maya?"

"Y/n." She sobbed. My heart broke. That was her. I immediately pulled back the shower curtain, looking down at her. She had her knees pulled up to her chest as tears flowed down her face.

"Maya what's wrong?" I knelt down in front of her, holding her tightly in my arms. She didn't say anything, just sobbed while holding me as tight as she could. "I'm here. It's ok. Just let it all out." I stroked her hair while rubbing her back with my other hand.

Ten minutes passed and she had calmed down a good amount. I still held her in my arms though. I knew it used to make her feel safe and that's what she needed right now. "I should go." She said.

"Well what's wrong-"

"Nothing is wrong, ok?"

"Maya-"

"Just let me go y/n." She sounded defeated. "I'm sorry you had to see this...I didn't mean for you to see me like this."

"Maya it's ok-"

"Goodbye y/n." All I could do was watch her leave.

When I got home I debated on calling Maya. Maybe she would talk about it now? She never wanted to talk about anything. She always shut people out. The only person she would talk to about her problems was me, and we weren't together anymore. I wanted to be a support system for her if she needed it. She deserved it.

As soon as I got my phone out to send a text my doorbell rang. That was weird. I never invited people over. I like my me time. I opened the door with my brows furrowed, stopping in my tracks once I saw that it was Maya. "What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I wanted to apologize."

"Apologize for what? Crying in the shower? One, you already apologized for that and two, you don't need to apologize for crying." I had told her that a million times. I was hoping by now I would've drilled that into her head but I guess not.

"No...I actually wanted to apologize for breaking up with you." She never broke eye contact with me.

"Oh."

"I was just...in a really bad place mentally and I know that's no excuse for hurting you but...I just want you to know that I'm sorry. I didn't handle my feelings well and I'm trying to recover and I'm trying to mend relationships that I messed up...so this is me doing that with you."

"So are you just apologizing or do you want something else too?" I wanted to get back together, I really did. But I didn't want her to know how badly I wanted her. She had hurt me but I knew she didn't mean to.

"I...I do love you y/n." She sighed. "I really do. And I would love it if we could get back together and I understand if that's not something you want to do-" I cut her off with a kiss.

When I pulled away she rested her forehead against mine, smiling up at me. "I'm sorry." I could barely hear her that time but I knew what she meant.

"It's ok. I just want you to know that you're never going to have to go through anything else alone again." I stroked her cheeks, wiping away her tears. "I love you with my whole heart."

"I love you too."

[emeritus-fuckers]

Hear me out

Hot time with papas™. Reader sitting on papas chest kissing they way from then face... Lower and lower. Papa with hard on all excited about willy turn. Just to see reader blowing a raspberry on their tummies

Eh Sexondos and Copiasaurus faces would be priceless😌✨

I like this idea! I can totally see their faces XD - Nyx

Papas with s/o blowing raspberry on their tummies

Primo

He had ran his fingers through you hair and shut his eyes. Then you blew a raspberry and he is just silent.

You go from giggly to quiet, worried he doesn't find it funny.

You slowly raise your face to see but one look at him and you let out a relieved laugh. He is smiling warmly, his eyes full of amusement.

"Only you amore" he says with a chuckle and places a kiss on your forehead.

"Now then I'm going in the garden" He is still smiling lovingly at you as he places his hand under your chin. "Or would you like to finish what you started?"

Secondo

Secondo is shocked... really shocked. His mouth falls open and he just stares at you. He doesn't know what to do, he just kind sits there for a while. Then eventually he starts to smile before laughing loudly.

He'd vows to get you back at some point and do the exact same to you.

He'd make sure that it's long enough since the incident that you have forgotten. You won't see it coming.

Except he takes it further, he properly sets the mood, lights some candles. He'd undress you ever so slowly and kiss his way down your front to do the exact same thing.

His serious front would crack and he'd start to giggle then full on laugh.

Once he'd calmed down enough he'd pull you close to him and kiss you passionatly. "Shall we finish what you started?" There was supposed to be a little hint of a threat in it, like he was going to punish you for last time. But he's still laughing and it just doesn't quite have that edge he wanted.

Terzo

He finds it hilarious, he has a tear in his eye he is laughing so heard.

But you've started something now... It becomes your little in joke whether you want it to or not.

Terzo likes to blow a raspberry on your tummy at the most ridiculous times. It could be during hot steamy times with him or just you getting out of the shower...

One time Terzo runs in from nowehere, he should be at work. You are at work and he just blows a raspberry on your tummy. You can see the other siblings looking a little shocked. Then he runs off giggling all the way back to his office. He just starts chuckling at random points during his day thinking of the memory.

After that you do have a loving word with him that maybe it should be saved for when it's just you two.

Copia

It tickles, so a little squeak escapes him followed by giggles.

You decide to blow another raspberry and he starts doing a mixture of rat noises and laughter while gently trying to push you off.

"Cara please, it errr tickles, please give me a rest" He is laughing even more as he goes to try and tickle you.

He gets you and you start laughing, it ends in a tickling fight chasing each other round the room and eventually ending up lying on the floor laughing hysterically.

At this point he reaches out for you "I promise it's not to tickle you, you can trust me sì?" He pulls you close to him "I love you cara, such a ghoulish sense of humour you have." he says fondly before kissing you.

Old Nihil

He is very excited and then you blow the raspberry on his tummy

He honestly thinks it's part of the foreplay and waits for you to carry on.

He just gazes at you, in a totally adoring manner. Then, at last, he realises the joke and laughs. “Very funny sibling. Oh to be young and silly again…”

He gives you puppy dog eyes and hopes you will continue.

He is still utterly besotted by you and he gives you suggestive looks all day. Even if he has forgotten exactly why he needs you so badly right now.

Young Nihil

He is devastated and I mean devastated. He looks at you shocked like he's been denied something.

"Babe... babe come on please... that's not even funny..." He looks at you pleadingly.

"Don't tease your Papa like this, I mean it's just... you are still going to right?"

you are tempted to point out that he's acting like a big baby. But he just flashes you that smile, the one he knows you can't resist.

"Why don't we take this to the bedroom" He leans down and kisses you in such a way that he knows you will just melt for him. "How can I resist someone as amazing as you."

~

Written by Nyx

Taglist: @ivyanddaisies @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @lunarsromantichomicide @randodummy @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @calliedion-dungeon @dio-niisio @firefirevampire @mybotanicaldemise @emo-mess @natoncesaid @sirlsplayland @ouijaboardemo @lightbluuestars @igodownjustlikeholymary @thatoddboy @strawberriiblossoms @dark-angel-is-back

[callsignmist]

A Dreamy Moment.

FIRST JACOB FANFIC IM PISSING MYSELF😭- (that was an attempt at a pun, i hate myself rn lmaooo)

ALSO G/N READER CUZ EVERYONE LOVES HIM

(Based on that one dream I had ;D )

( Btw if this is bad I'm so sorry I'll try better next time lmao)

It was quiet. Well, as quiet as it could be with two people in a room. You were laying on Jacob's chest. You could hear his heartbeat. It was fast, but calming. You also felt the way his chest rose when he breathed in, and fell when he exhaled.

All of the sudden, Jacob hums lightly.

"You asleep?" He lightly chuckles, and kisses your forehead.

"No, I'm just listening to your heart." You reply, smiling to him.

A few minutes of silence pass by, as finally Jacob speaks up.

"Top or Bottom?" He asked. Maybe as a joke, or maybe he was just curious, I wouldn't know that's going on in his head.

"Me? Oh, I'm a switch. But I've more often been Top. But I kind of wanna try to be taken care of once." You giggled, mostly to yourself.

Jacob whispers something, however it wasn't audible. And in the blink of an eye you were flipped on your back, Jacob hovering on top of you.

he looks down at you, and smirks.

"How about we switch it up a little? I could make you feel so good~"

You were surprised and flustered. He pinned you to the bed and you couldn't escape his hold. Not that you wanted too.

You nodded, feeling hot, but still shocked from the sudden placement.

"Hmm, you look so pretty darlin', but somethings missing.."

He starts to kiss your neck, leaving hickeys and love bites. You start to hum lightly. He made you feel good. You were really enjoying this.

His kisses trailed down from your neck, on your collar bone and reached your chest. He stops here, looking up at you again. "C-can I?" He starts stuttering. You nod again, biting your lip and blushing.

He continues to kiss down your chest, all the way down to your lower stomach. He lightly touches you and slowly pulls down your undergarments, making you whimper. He had been teasing you all this time, praising you for your whining and moaning. But you needed more. You felt wet and you wanted him to take care of it.

All of the sudden, he stops.

"Maybe I shouldn't get you all aroused now." He teases you. " we still need to make dinner and you have work to do and-"

You cut him off.

"Fuck Jacob! Don'tstart something you cant finish! Please- fuck I BEG you. i-i, i need you right here, please Jacob."

He just smirks. "You need me that badly, huh? You want me inside you sooo much hun?"

"Don't worry darlin'. We've only just started~" The last sentence was deeper and harsher, but you loved it.

He pulled your underwear and kissed your pelvic. Then he started to rub in between your legs. It felt so good, yet you wanted more. You moaned while his hands did the magic. A little more, and you felt your climax point. Fuck- you were gonna-

Jacob kissed you passionately, and went faster. You were almost there, and-

Jacob Wakes up with a jolt.

No. No, no, no, no, NO!

IT WAS A DREAM! FUCK.

Fuck…

He wipes the sleepy from his eyes. His sheets were wet and sticky, And his newly taken photos of you were too.

Damn, he had forgotten that he fell asleep looking at them.

It's okay, i'ts okay. He has a lot more of them. He looks around his room. Every single wall in his room was filled with Polaroids (the dates written in red ink). He also had a big corkboard, with probably all information about you. You would've never known about this. Heh, it's okay, though. It's only a matter of time before you two get together. He smirks.

*bu-Ding*

Oh, a message? Jacob stood up and checked his computer.

*YourName has accepted your friend request!*

They accepted! Perfect.

Oh my darlin'.

you and me, are really meant to be….

A/N: OMG I'm dying. Bro I'm OBSESSED over this man ;-;

I'm gonna try to post more and all that, and I might do some fanart :D

Hope you enjoyed!

(Jacob belongs to @carnivorekitty)

<333