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svckmyballzfr · 2 days ago

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“I know it’s over”

Yandere Batfam x Neglected Maki Zenin!reader

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 - “Where else I can go” Tw: neglect, Injury, obsession, abandonment, Torture, Abuse, SA, Death, Suicidal thoughts, Suicide, brief description about [name]’s eyes sorry (this is a disclaimer for the whole story + sorry about the bad grammar and typos, I won’t rewrite until I’m bored)

[Somewhere In Tokyo]

The sun was setting as it rained, the streetlight outside of the school buzzed as it flickered.

Heavy breathing was heard in the hallways of said, school “Well Well , if it isn’t Yuta Okkotsu my favorite weakling”

“Don’t you come near me” Yuta said shakily as three boys surrounded him in the empty classroom.

“Oh come on, don’t play hard to get” The bully said with a smirk.

“I said don’t …” Yuta said trying to said tuff but failing miserably as the bully itched closer to him. “Come on I just wanna slug you one more time before i graduate!” The bully laughed and his little minions joined in.

“Stop it..” Yuta muttered as he clenched his other arm looking down.

“Since it’s our last time together, maybe I should just kill you” The bully said as he walked closer.

“D-don’t touch me! RIKA” Yuta said in a panicked tone looking up as the bully had gotten closer with his hands towards him. A large shadow then appeared behind the bully and he froze with a wavering presence behind him.

“hm? Whatcha say?” The bully asked confused as large hands with sharp nail and went to both sides of his face. “Argh!” The bully let out a noise as his face was pulled back behind him.

….

The rain got heavier outside as yuta had crouched by the walls of the classroom muttering “I’m sorry” Blood leaks from the locker next to him slowly and it slowly opens to a mangled body.

Yuta was now sitting in a chair, in a room full of Tailsman with small lamps surrounded in the dark room to give light. He looks up staring at all the Tailsman that reached to the dark never ending ceiling.

….

“A complete cover up and a secret execution? Boy that’s some story” Gojo said unamused “The child in question did consent though.” One of the higher ups replied but Gojo quickly responded “He’s underage, just sixteen years old, and who knows how many he have cursed”

“So you’ll take him?” One of the old hags of the higher ups asked “Yes, Yuta Okkotsu will attend Jujustu high school.”

….

Yuta had his head down with his arms crossed still sitting on the chair “You make this in shop class?” Gojo said infront of him holding up a twisted knife “Yuta Okkotsu..” he finished “I-it used to be a knife..” he said softly

“I tried killing myself” He hugged his knees closer and slowly looked up “But…Rika wouldn’t let me. Gojo just stared at him “Kinda dark.” he tossed the twisted knife away. “guess what? You’re starting at a new school today.”

…

The next day at Yuta got ready for the day where he would Jujustu high! He got to walking in the hallways tiredly with his eye bags shining in the sun.

“Did you hear about the new transferred student coming today? I heard he stuffed 4 of his classmates in a locker” Panda said while he walked with [name] and Inumaki

“You mean he killed them?” [name] asked “Tuna mayo” Inumaki added “Nah, gravely injured”

“If he’s cocky I’ll put him in his place” [name] said holding her bag on her shoulder. “Bento flakes” Inumaki sighed

“Students of all grades!” Gojo said exaggerating with hand motions “We have a new student! Give him a hand!!!!!”

‘God it’s too damn early for his bullshit..’ [name] said with a her head leaning on her hand, with her legs crossed.

“not one hand…” he said sadly

“Heard the kid’s a real wet blanket, the last thing I need is an another moody rookie to look after.” (Whatever that means..)

“Salmon”

Panda hums in agreement with Inumaki, Gojo sighs and puts his hand out “Oh well then! You can come on in now!”

Yuta then opens the sliding door and as soon as his foot stepped in the classroom they sensed his cursed aura and ever stepped he took it got stronger. Panda tensed up and got aggressive and [name] eyes widen, a large menacing curse was sensed behind him and made a strange noise while facing the 3 students, [name] unzipped her bag, Inumaki put a hand on his tall collar getting ready to use his cursed technique.

Bruce Wayne had never truly possessed a reason to resent [name]—not a logical one, at least. He simply did. Or, more accurately, the reason was etched into [name]’s eyes: the exact same eyes as her mother’s.

Every time Bruce looked at her, he saw those eyes staring back—haunted by their shape, their color. He recoiled, not out of hatred, but from something far more : fear. Because he knew precisely why they unnerved him.

Her mother—the woman he loved—had abandoned him. Abandoned the Waynes. She had walked away from the life they had built, forsaking them for her Clan—a group that viewed weakness as expendable and loyalty as conditional. A Clan that had never seen her as a person, only as power.

That memory alone, of her turning her back—festered inside Bruce like a wound that refused to heal. The thought of her always lingered, sharp and unforgiving, and [name] carried that echo with every glance.

So when Bruce received a call from Naobito Zenin, irritation boiled in his chest. He instructed Alfred to sever any lines of communication. He didn’t want to hear from them. But curiosity clawed at him, and eventually, he took the call.

“Maybe M/n is finally ready to crawl back. Fine. I’ll entertain it—but I’ll make her work for it,” he had thought, even allowing a slight smile at the idea of seeing her again. Just like old times… M/n, Satoru, and him—together. A family of sorts, fractured but familiar.

But that smile shattered when Naobito’s voice turned somber. M/n was dead—she had died months ago. And now, there was a child. A daughter. His daughter.

He could barely choke out a response. “What.”

It was too much. Jason’s resurrection. The chaos of the Red Hood. And now, this?

Bruce had Gordon collect the girl from the airport and order a DNA test immediately. He needed proof—needed something solid to stand on.

The results were : the child was his. And… impossibly, she was Satoru Gojo’s as well???

The moment she stepped through the manor doors, Bruce hadn’t yet been briefed. But when his eyes met hers—one luminous blue like Gojo’s, the other the rich hue of M/n’s—he knew.

Even beyond the strange eye color, everything else was him. The cheekbones. The jawline. Even her posture. She stood tall for a six-year-old—too tall. But those eyes... they unraveled him.

He couldn’t be near her.

If he stayed, he feared he might crumble. Or worse… lash out at something so heartbreakingly innocent.

“I’m sorry for your mother’s passing,” he murmured, voice hollow and clipped, before retreating to the Batcave.

There, beneath the weight of grief he’d never prepared for, Bruce collapsed to the floor. Hands gripping the cold ground, lungs burning, air slipping through him like smoke. Pressure mounted on his chest, like unseen hands crushing his ribs. His limbs trembled. His heart thundered like a war drum in his ears.

“No, no, no, no… please stop…” he thought as panic overtook him. His vision tunneled, lips dry, mind spinning into a storm of sorrow and helplessness.

Dick never had anything against [name], he knew her mother was really close to Bruce and had seen the woman before plenty of times as robin and he couldn’t help but grow fond of her. I mean that’s basically his mother! So was nice, caring and also helped him when he had a problem with something between him, and Bruce! He could’ve hate her, never! But that changed when she had left, when he was nightwing. How could she? For that clan.

So, when Dick was in the kitchen he had got surprised by a voice behind him and when he turned he had thought it was M/n but smaller! Those eyes. Blue and e/c eyes…he got scared and kicked the poor child.

‘I mean who is this child?? Why do they have M/n eyes, and Gojo’s eyes…’ he soon snapped out of it when he seen blood dripping from her head.

hey sorry I’m so sorry…” Dick said and helped her up.

“I-It’s o-ok I’m a big girl..” [name] says as she wipes the streak of blood of off her forehead.

“Let me-“ Before he finishes he gets a text from Alfred [Master Bruce has passed out in the batcave. Please hurry here master Dick.]

“You said you were a big girl right?” He said turning his head to her. [name] nods her head eagerly.

“Then you’ll be fine handling it. I have to go. When I come back we can go to the arcade.” Dick offered a smile then left and hurried to the batcave where Alfred stood with a worried expression.

….

The next day Bruce had woke up in his bed when dick sat near with his hands on his face.“Bruce.” Dick stood up when Bruce had sat up on the edge of the bed. “What happ-“

“I can’t be a father for that girl.” Bruce interrupted and Dick froze and looked confused “The girl little that just came to the manor. I can’t be her father. That isn’t my daughter.”

Dick just stared at Bruce with a frown “Bruce-“ Bruce silently began to cry with a hand on his eyes “I can’t..” he said shakily, dick sat next to him with a hand on his back “Ok.”

Of course Dick didn’t approve of this, I mean who would??? But he could obviously see that Bruce isn’t in the right state but It’s ok he’ll be a big brother for her to lean on and see as a father…one day. Right?

Jason hated [name].

Or at least, that’s what he told himself every single time he caught her in the corner of his eye, every time someone so much as brought up her name. He’d scoff, roll his eyes, cross his arms, and say something cruel like-

“She’s a spoiled bratty bitch whose mother was a dumb whore that got herself killed.”

He said it like it was truth. Cold, harsh truth.

But deep down—where the rage throbbed and the loneliness curled into something even colder—Jason knew he was full of it. Every time he dragged her mother’s name through the mud, he was really just trying to bury how much he missed her. M/n was the only person who ever made him feel like more than a burden. She treated him like he mattered—like he was hers.

He cried harder than anyone when he found out she died. No one saw it. He made sure of that. But behind all the noise and anger and bravado, he wept for her. For the mother he never truly had, but almost did. Until she left. Until she abandoned him—right after he was kidnapped. After the Joker. After everything.

And now she was dead?

Jason couldn’t even look at photos of her without feeling like the world was cracking apart at the seams. He hated her for walking away. Hated her for dying. Hated how much he still loved her.

He had ignored Dick’s call two days ago. Didn’t want to hear anything that had to do with the manor. With Bruce. But something in Dick’s voice… something had kept him from deleting the message. So now here he was—back in the same house where everything had started to rot.

Dick looked like a wreck. Pale. Exhausted. Haunted.

Jason didn’t bother hiding his sneer. “What’s wrong with you, dickface?”

Dick barely looked up. “She’s dead.” His voice cracked like glass. He ran a trembling hand through his hair.

Jason blinked, confused. “Who?”

“M/n… I just wanted to tell you. She has a child. And she… she’s here.”

Dick couldn’t even finish. He left the room without another word.

Jason stood there for a long time. Heart pounding. Head spinning.

He wandered into the library, trying to escape the weight of it all. Grabbed a book—anything to pull him out of his own head. Tried to focus. Tried to not feel.

But the pages blurred. Wet. His hands were shaking.

Tears? No. No, stop that. I don’t care. I don’t fucking care.

But he did. God, he did.

No mission, no alias, no mask could erase the ache of being loved—and left behind.

She had come into his life. Treated him like a son. Then left. Had a baby. A new child. And then died.

Where was his closure? Where was his chance to protect her? To yell at her? To forgive her?

Jason slammed the book shut and sat frozen, chest heaving.

Then someone bumped into him.

His book hit the floor with a dull thud.

“Oh, sorry—” a small voice stammered.

He looked down.

It was like someone had punched him in the gut.

Those eyes. One blue. One [e/c].

His hands curled into fists.

So this is who she died for? This… replacement? This child? Is this the one who got her love in the end? Got her last words? Her final breath?

“Watch where you’re fucking going,” he snapped, voice low and venomous.

The girl looked down, ashamed. “...oh.”

He scoffed, bitterness thick in his throat. “Another one of Bruce’s adopted mistakes?”

“I-I’m his kid! I promise… a-and you’re my brother, right?” she said quietly, voice soft and trembling.

Jason didn’t answer. He smirked—sharp and humorless.

She thinks I’m her brother. Like she gets to call me that.

He knelt slightly, resting a heavy hand on her shoulder, watching her flinch beneath his grip. “Look, kid,” he said, voice like ice, “you’re just one of Bruce’s little distractions. And soon enough, he’ll forget about you too—just like everything else you care about. You’re not special. And I’m not your brother.”

He let her go and turned without another glance as she stumbled into the bookshelf behind her. The sound echoed like guilt.

But Jason kept walking.

And as he stormed off down the hallway, jaw clenched so tight it ached, he swore something to himself in silence.

‘You ruined the only good thing I ever had—just by being born. So don’t expect mercy. Not from me.’

Yuta explains that the Cursed Spirit is Rika, a childhood friend whom he had promised to marry when they grew up. Rika died in a freak accident and became an overprotective spirit that harms anyone who threatens him.

During his first mission with [Name], Yuta successfully summons Rika on his own for the first time to save them from a Cursed Spirit. Three months pass in his school training, and he grows close to [Name], Toge, and Panda. One day, on a mission together, Toge and Yuta are attacked by a high-level Curse. The man behind the attack was Suguru Geto, a previous student and old friend of Gojo, who defected from the school and killed over a hundred innocent people on a mission.

Geto attempts to get Yuta on his side so they can make use of Rika, but Yuta refuses when he insults Yuta's friends due to unsettled circumstances. Geto declares war to activate a portal to the under-world: he will release a thousand Curses upon the city to remove non-sorcerer humans, as he believes them to be undeserving and beneath sorcerers. Geto's real reason for the war, however, is to distract Gojo so he can kill Yuta and add Rika to his collection of cursed spirits. Gojo realizes this upon learning of Yuta's background, and sends Inumaki and Panda back to the school to protect Yuta and Maki during the night of Geto's attack. Geto overpowers them all, leaving only Yuta conscious. Enraged at seeing his friends hurt, Yuta promises himself as a sacrifice to Rika in order to strengthen their bond. As a result, Geto is severely wounded. He is found by Gojo, who after reflecting on their past friendship, executes him.

[name] stood quietly at the edge of the room, her gaze resting on Gojo’s sleeping form. The soft rise and fall of his chest was the only proof he was still here—still breathing, still fighting. But earlier… she’d seen his face after the fighting. The way his expression cracked when he thought no one was looking. The way his hands trembled before he shoved them deep into his pockets.

Her eyes drifted to the blindfold resting against his forehead, slightly askew. With a small breath, she stepped closer, fingers twitching nervously as she reached for it. She gently lifted it from his eyes, careful not to wake him, and replaced it with her own glasses, pressing them onto his face with a little huff.

she slipped the blindfold over her own eyes.

“Gosh, how does he see with this thing?” she muttered to herself with a crooked smile. “I’m literally blind right now.”

She took a step—and promptly bumped into the wall with a soft thud.

“Ow…” she mumbled, rubbing her arm.

Laughter—low and breathy—broke the silence behind her.

She whipped around, the blindfold slipping halfway off her face. Gojo was awake. Sitting up. Watching her.

And smiling.

His eyes—those eyes—were soft and bright like sunlight scattered across an endless ocean. Their glow lit something warm and dizzying inside her chest.

“H-HUH?! THIS IS A DREAM!” [name] blurted, panicking, leaping into the weirdest stance she could think of on the spot.

“Oh wow, I’m terrified,” he teased, clapping dramatically. “Is that… the ancient Fighting Crane meets Confused Flamingo technique? Legendary.”

[name] tried to hold the pose, struggling to stay serious. “Silence! I am the blindfolded warrior, guardian of the living room!” she declared, wobbling slightly to the left.

“Well then, oh mighty warrior,” he said with a mischievous glint in his bright blue eyes, “I challenge you to a duel. But only if you can pass… the tickle trial.”

“Huh? Wait no—NO!” she shrieked as Gojo lunged, grabbing her sides with the lightest poke.

She burst into uncontrollable giggles, twisting away and finally pulling off the blindfold in a fit of laughter.

“You blue eye bastard!” she panted, catching her breath.

He sat up, smiling softly now. “Yeah, I tend to break the rules. Especially for a smile like that.”

For a moment, there was silence—the good kind. Then his voice turned gentler.

“Hey, [name]… could you take that bandage off?”

She blinked, confused. “Oh. Sure—but I kinda can’t see too good with that eye,” she murmured, fingertips brushing the edge of the gauze as she slowly peeled it away.

Her partially blind eye met his, and he stared.

“I was right,” he whispered, stepping forward with small, steady steps.

“What?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

She felt it, then. The heat of tears soaking through her shirt. His shoulders trembled against her. The strongest man she knew was quietly falling apart in her arms

“You’re my daughter.”

She froze in his embrace. And then slowly, carefully, wrapped her arms around him, like maybe, just maybe—someone loves her.

A/N || sorry for the wait but here’s the chapter!!! And boom here’s the big plot twist!!! btw name won’t have six eyes or anything, just related to gojo!! SO YES GOJO IS OUR PAPI TOO GUYS 😜 (ALSO ANOTHER AUTHOR I LOVE LIKED MY SERIES AHHHHH!!!!! TYYYYYYY ILYSM (I follow you😝) Also about the genetics thing, M/n genes pull the stronger genes into [name] ,but there is a possible, a little chance that if there is a third party, their genetics can also be in said baby (not logically obvious)

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#yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #neglected reader #yandere cassandra cain #yandere damian wayne #yandere duke thomas #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #yuta okkotsu #inumaki toge #panda #yandere stephanie brown

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rosies-wrld · 22 hours ago

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when you had given birth to your beautiful baby, it wasn’t long before you started noticing the even more changes your body was going through, Iike the last nine months of hormones, back pain, and swollen feet hadn’t been enough. your breasts grew heavy with the milk for your babe and with that heaviness came the horrible tender feeling at a mere brush.

your husband, however, didn’t mind in the slightest. take right now for instance as he stood at the counter with your child pressed against his bare chest, guiding softened banana from between his fingers to the grubby and much smaller hands of your lovely child. he spoke softly under his breath, a conversation meant just for the two of them.

and somehow, in all his glory, the man in front of you still managed to look composed and unbothered by your unsightly appearance. his large t-shirt fell over your frame, with stains from throw-up, leaks from your breasts, and snot. you’re legs have gone unshaved and your hair untamed.

the whirring of the pumps under your shirt came to a stop, breaking you from the serene moment in front of you. with a silent groan and a roll of your neck, you lifted the hem of your shirt to bunch under your chin and began removing the pumps with a slight wince.

“will you pass me the bags? I want to get these in the free-“ you stop abruptly when you lift your head and find two sets of eyes on you. one pair a carbon copy of your own, and is currently fighting to get out of their fathers hands with grabby hands that will be pinching into your flesh later. and the other…

god, this is why you married the man.

the way he’s looking at you, with absolute adoration, like he can kiss the ground you walk on, and like he can absolutely devour you, and leave nothing behind, has shivers crawling up your spine and butterflies in your stomach.

he hikes the child higher up in his arms and says quickly, “time for your nap,” before making his way past you. he stops in front of you before leaving the kitchen, winds his hand behind your neck, and brings his lips to yours in a slow and deliberate kiss that leaves you breathless when he finally pulls away.

“once this baby is asleep, you and i are gonna get some much needed time alone, understand?” his voice is gravely and you only have it in you to nod before he presses another chaste kiss against your lips and makes his way to the nursery.

god, you think, maybe i should flash him more often.

~~~~~~~~~~

your fav <3

might redo later

based on an insta reel i saw and it made me wish men who adored their wives were real :(

#john price x reader #simon riley x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #gaz x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #toji x reader #nanami x reader #higuruma x reader #shiu x reader #jjk x reader #cod x reader

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daydreamgoddess14 · 2 days ago

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Slow Burn 🔥

Bucky x f!Reader

Allll the tropes - you can never have too much cake, friends! There's only one bed, injured on a mission, friends to lovers...

I am still under the influence of a heatwave 🫣 I also now appear to be writing sex acts I've never written before. It's like an unofficial mini-series 😂

Bucky Masterlist

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: face-sitting, oral (f receiving).

Alexei was going to pay for this. You weren't sure how just yet, but you'd think of something. Some suitable punishment for accidentally giving you enough explosive to level a whole building rather than just get you in the door.

You dug through your bag until your fingers closed around what you needed. An ancient tub of moisturiser. Picked up in a gas station more than a year ago, a totally unknown brand - probably banned from sale in the US. Probably not containing even a milligram of aloe.

Luckily it still smelled cool and fresh, still looked usable. Behind you, the bathroom door opened.

“How's the shower?”

“About as good as you'd expect.” Bucky grimaced.

You spun around with a wide grin just as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. Your grin disappeared, taking your bravado with it.

“There was me hoping for a huge walk-in with one of those rainfall things,” you muttered.

“Afraid not. I wouldn't even touch anything if I were you.”

Your expression must have said it all because he followed up awfully quickly, “I just mean, like, the walls, not yourse-”

His low voice petered off, the tips of his ears went pink.

“Well, yeah. Obviously,” you scoffed, filling the awkward silence.

The whole place was gross.

You hadn’t planned on a motel.

It was just a quick job - plant the charges, blow the door.

Instead, half the bunker went up in flames.

The burn on your shoulder said enough.

Bucky had dragged you clear of the fire, complaining the whole way to the motel about you not wearing your suit.

“If I’d been wearing my suit, I’d be peeling melted polyester off my skin right now,” you snapped.

He didn’t say another word.

Not until you got to the motel and found, befitting your terrible luck, one full-size bed. Not even a queen.

You passed him as you headed for the bathroom, and you could swear his eyes flicked to your shoulder, just for a second.

You closed the door firmly behind you.

You were friends. Kind of.

There was no need for this to be so… awkward.

You showered fast, following his advice and keeping your hands to yourself, and in the short time you'd been gone, he'd found the spare blanket and lay it on the floor.

“You can't sleep there,” you said before you were even fully back in the room. “It's disgusting. There's probably roaches.”

He didn’t look up. “I’ve slept on worse.”

You hesitated.

“The bed’s not that big,” you muttered. “Just don’t, like, spread out.”

He eyed the bed, then your shoulder.

“You should take that side. You’ll roll onto it otherwise.”

You arched a brow. “Since when are you the burn expert?”

“Since I carried your crispy ass out of a fire.”

You choked on a laugh. “My crispy ass? That’s what we’re calling it?”

He didn’t answer. Just stared at you for a second too long, then said, “get in the bed.”

You opened your mouth to argue, then shut it.

You took the side he pointed to and climbed in first, turning onto your side. He followed a second later, back to you, a careful few inches of air between your bodies.

The silence was too quiet. Too full.

He exhaled slowly. “I didn’t mean don’t touch yourself earlier.”

You sniggered in the dark.

“Goodnight, Bucky.”

He didn’t reply.

You lay still, hyper-aware of his presence a few inches behind you. His warmth. The shift of the mattress every time he moved.

Eventually, his breathing evened out.

Yours didn’t.

You didn’t know when you drifted off. Only that when you stirred again, it was still dark - just the faintest sliver of morning pushing at the curtains.

You didn’t move, you kept your breathing steady, even as you felt the bed shift slightly behind you.

His arm reached across you, slowly and carefully, for something on the nightstand. He was trying not to wake you. A soft scrape of something plastic. A quiet lid twisting open.

Then the slow slide of your top strap down your arm.

The cream felt cool. Soothing on your angry skin. His fingers worked it into your skin, gentler than they had any right to be.

He was being careful. Methodical.

But he lingered.

His thumb dragged lightly just below the edge of the injury. Too low to be part of the job. Too light to be innocent.

You kept your eyes closed, imagining his hands moving further down. It was all you could do to keep your breath steady, let alone your hips.

And then, as if you weren't already in pieces, you felt him blow lightly over the burn. Your skin cooled and tingled and you couldn't help the sigh of relief that fell from your mouth.

Even to your own ear, it sounded like a broken moan of pleasure.

You clamped your mouth shut, eyes pinching closed with embarrassment.

His hand froze.

You could feel the way his body went still behind you.

“Don’t do that,” he said, voice low. Strained.

You didn't move. “Do what?”

“Make that sound.”

You could’ve died.

He drew in a slow breath, his fingers still resting lightly on your shoulder.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I was.” You paused. “But then you started touching me.”

“I shouldn’t have,” he said softly.

“Shouldn't you?”

You rolled onto your back to look at him, the burn smarting against the rough bedsheets.

“I’ve thought about it,” you admitted quietly.

“Fuck. Me too.”

“So,” you said finally, but trailing off into nothing.

“So if you don’t stop looking at me like that, I’m gonna kiss you.”

You snorted, “no you're not -”

He dipped down quickly and caught your mouth with his.

You gasped, surprised by his boldness, and felt him go still above you. Before he had time to doubt himself, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to pull him down onto you.

He resisted, just a little, and pulled back.

“Your burn,” he muttered against your mouth.

“‘s fine.” You leaned up to kiss him again, but he twisted away from you.

“Not like this,” he said roughly. Then, after a breath, “c’mere.”

He shifted, rolling to his back, hands guiding your hips as he pulled you with him.

You could feel how hard he was beneath you, the restraint in every movement.

“You sure?” you whispered.

He huffed a laugh, one hand skimming your thigh.

“Sweetheart, I’ve been sure since Berlin.”

You sank into his kiss, half sprawled on top of him, your hands buried in his hair, his mouth hot and hungry against yours.

There was a quiet urgency in the way he kissed you - like he’d been holding back for months and now didn’t know how to stop.

The kiss deepened, his hands everywhere and yet careful to avoid hurting you. When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing hard.

He looked at you, really looked at you. His voice dropped.

“How’s is it?”

“Better than in my head,” you smirked. He rolled his eyes and gestured to your shoulder. “It’s fine. It's nothing.”

His fingers brushed down your arm gently. “I want this to be good for you. Easy.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smile widening. “Are you saying I’m lazy?”

“No,” he said, leaning in, his mouth just by your ear. “I’m saying I want you above me. Comfortable.”

He lay back slowly, still watching you.

“Sit on my face.”

It wasn’t a question.

You blinked, heat licking up your neck - and not from the burn. “Bucky, I -”

“You don’t have to move. You don’t have to do anything.” His voice dropped, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Let me make you fall apart.”

“This isn’t exactly how I pictured our first time,” you laughed nervously, trying to reach for another kiss.

“No?” he grinned, pulling out of your reach. “Because I’ve definitely pictured it. Just relax, I've got you.”

His hand trailed down your thigh to the back of your knee, pulling your leg further over him. You shifted, your knees bracketing his hips, and sat up, peeling off your thin cami.

His eyes drank you in, dark and focused, but he didn’t reach for you.

“I could just stay right here,” you teased, rolling your hips against him. “Ohh, fuck -” you sighed. “Please, Bucky.”

His hands skimmed up your thighs, slow and steady. “Then lose the rest for me, sweetheart.”

You bit your lip, wriggling out of your underwear as his grip tightened, guiding you higher up his chest.

You hesitated again, your breath shallow and heart pounding. His eyes were locked on yours - not teasing, just openly wanting.

“I’ve never…” you started, then couldn't finish.

“I know,” he said gently. “That’s why I want you to.”

He didn’t rush you. He just waited with all his quiet intensity focused entirely on you.

You moved up his chest slowly, his hands steady on your thighs, guiding. When you reached him, hovering just above his mouth, he looked up at you like you were something sacred.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered.

He lay back expectantly. “Not even a little. I knew you'd look perfect up there. Come here, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Let me take care of you.”

He hooked his hands around your thighs and pulled you down. You reached out to grip the thin wooden headboard to steady yourself.

As his broad tongue dragged a long, slow stripe through your pussy, your thighs clamped around his head, half in shock, half instinct.

“What if I fucking suffocate you?” You asked, horrified.

He rolled his eyes, and in them, you knew he was grinning into you.

“Do your worst, baby,” he said, muffled against you. His voice sent vibrations through your body, he held you a little tighter.

His tongue worked you open with a pressure that had you throwing your head back. By the time he swept it over your clit, your hands had given up clinging to the headboard for dear life, and were palming your breasts, rolling your nipples between your thumb and index finger.

“God, Bucky -” you rolled your hips, willing yourself to look at him.

He reached one hand up to cover yours, you swapped them so that yours covered his, kneading your soft curves.

He moaned into you, the sound enough to make you grind down against his tongue.

You reached behind and wrapped a hand around his thick cock, weeping and aching. He fucked up into your fist, each thrust in time with the flick of his tongue inside you.

When his lips closed around your swollen clit and sucked, your legs shook and your vision went white, his name tumbling from your mouth.

Your grip on his cock tightened as you writhed against his mouth.

Hot, sticky ropes of cum painted your back, your ass - he came hard in your hand, roaring into your cunt.

“Holy fuck,” you breathed, shifting back on unsteady knees.

He pressed a wet kiss to your inner thigh, making you tremble again.

Still catching your breath, you lifted your hand - slick with his release - and brought your fingers to your lips. Bucky groaned low in his chest, watching as you licked the taste of him from your skin with deliberate, languid strokes.

“Jesus,” he muttered, eyes blazing.

He surged up suddenly, sitting against the headboard and dragging you down with him, hands firm at your hips. You slid easily down the broad plane of his chest, letting your legs fall to either side of his thighs until you were straddling him again, skin sticking to skin.

His mouth found yours in a messy kiss, all hunger, no restraint - tasting himself on your tongue.

You rocked your hips without thinking, still pulsing around the aftershocks, still needing.

“Bucky…” you breathed against his jaw, your voice raw. “I want more.”

His hand slid up your spine and he blew lightly over the warm skin on your shoulder. “Yeah?”

You nodded, pressing your lips to his cheek. “I want to feel you. All of you.”

He stilled, grip tightening just slightly.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he asked, low in your ear. “Gonna need you to say it again.”

You smiled against his skin, grinding your hips against the hard line of him. “Please. I need you inside me. Want you to fill me up.”

A rough sound left his throat.

“God,” he muttered. “Thought you’d never ask.”

When he finally pushed inside you, you knew you’d never need to ask again.

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sucker4vy · 2 days ago

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BUSY WOMAN, UNLESS YOU CALL TONIGHT .ᐟ

PAIRING: pedro pascal x actress!reader

SYNOPSIS: Pedro and the reader have been caught together multiple times, and now, all eyes are on them more than ever after she’s spotted leaving his apartment. Though she hasn’t said or made the relationship official, she finally breaks her silence at the Gladiator II premiere when an interviewer asks about the recent sighting.

WARNINGS: fem!reader, age gap (reader is in her mid-late twenties), confusing!pedro, situationship, not technically a smau but does include comments and a few posts, the media is obsessed with reader and pedro, eventual smut, no use of yn (except for posts)

WC: 3.2k

A/N: not me taking a whole other day to finish it 😶 honestly this could’ve been so much longer than it was but next time just watch i’ll make it longer

series masterlist | next chapter

Pedro rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you to the door. He twists the lock and swings it open for you like the gentleman he always is.

As you’re about to step outside, you feel his hand slowly slip away, but it pauses when you do. Turning back to him, you ask, “I’ll see you at the premiere?” Accompanied by an awkward smile.

It’s a question you probably shouldn’t have asked, and judging by his expression, it’s one he’s caught off guard by. “You’re going?” He asks.

“I have nothing else to do that day.” You shy away from him. It was a lie but it’s one that would convince him the most.

Yet for some reason, it still didn't seem to work because disbelief flashed across, quickly replaced by skepticism. “You? Not busy?” You nod curiously at his reaction. “I don’t believe it.”

“Well, believe it,” You laugh softly to yourself and you see his lips twitch, but he’s back to his serious—no, trying to be serious self.

But he can’t help it when the room is filled with silence for another second and then he cracks. He bursts into a hearty laughter and his hand glides up to your nape, guiding your head toward his for a quick peck on the lips.

“Now, I do.” His gaze lingers on your lips, debating whether or not he should steal another kiss—just one last one. You push away before he can lean in again.

Before you turn around he catches a glimpse of a little cheesy grin on your face. “Goodnight, Pedro.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he replies. You look back at him once more as you walk away ever so slowly and you catch him eyeing your body. He notices your figure shift and is quick to look around, suddenly fascinated by his apartment complex. A hand over his mouth and body leaning against the door frame, caught in the act.

You can’t help but giggle at his little sneaky act and you’re pretty sure it’s just as funny to him too because you hear a muffled laugh from behind you. You’ll definitely tease him later about checking you out.

When you step out of the building, you feel the cool air kiss your skin, and you can’t help but wish you had covered up a little more. A skirt was not the best choice for tonight, something you realized a little too late.

In the corner of your eye, you see a white flash. Your eyes widen in surprise as you turn to confront the source, only to find yourself staring directly at a phone.

You move to push the phone out of your face so that you're able to get a look at the actual source, but before you can fully get a good look at their appearance, they're unning for dear life.

In the moment, it’s funny and you scoff at their idiocy, and in that same moment, it hits you. It his you like a ton of bricks.

It feels like everything has slowed down as your mind movesq quick, a thousand thoughts per second, a million of all the possible outcomes run through your head.

Where you are, where you’re standing outside of more specifically Pedro Pascal’s apartment. That photo incriminates you and it’ll prove something that you’ve been trying to keep hidden from the media and yourself.

Behind you, you hear doors open and close, heavy footsteps on pavement, and then a hand on your shoulder. Your head spins around so fast you felt as though you were going to get whiplash.

“Woah, did I scare you?” There’s a teasting lilt in his voice but when he sees your expression, his smile dims. “Is something wrong?”

You exhale deeply to calm your nerves. “I think we’ve been caught.”

—

Different brushes glide over your face, blenders dabbing under your eye, and fingertips gliding over your nose to blend in the highlighter as much as it needed to look perfect.

Your makeup artist, Estelle, who had been all cheery and so talkative seconds ago, is now quiet, focused on her canvas, ensuring everything is flawless. She only speaks when she needs you to tilt your chin up a little or to look that way or this way.

When she’s finished she spins your chair around so that you face her, grabbing you chin gently for you to look at her. Her hand lifts from your chin and ghosts over your nose, drawing back with an unsureness, eyes squinting.

Her face quickly brightens with a loving smile. “You’re all finished!” She spins my chair back around, now facing the vanity. I meet my reflection and I admire Estelle’s work, which she killed like always. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she asks, “You like?”

“I love.” You look up at her with a smile, one that’s genuine but fragile as well.

“You know, this whole time I’ve been doing your glam you’ve been kind of tense, what’s up?” She smirks as if she knows something you don't. “It’s Pedro, huh?”

“No, no, no,” you’re quick to deny. “It’s not Pedro.” Estelle gives you a ‘are you kidding me’ kind of look because the both you know damn well that Pedro Pascal is the reason.

Estelle sighs, walking over to where your dress is hanging. “I know about that whole ordeal, honey. You can’t fool me.” She ushers you to stand up with hand gestures and pushes the dress into your hands. You don’t move from where you stand, only staring down at your dress.

It’s beautiful, bold. Designer? Alexander McQueen. It’s silk and corseted. Though it doesn't really go with the theme of the movie, it’s still a fantastic choice.

It commands attention without screaming for it. It’ll make her stand out on her own terms and possibly, hopefully, draw away attention from all the rumors going around. Maybe everyone will be too focused on her dress and forget about all the times the paparazzi have caught you with Pedro.

But let’s be realistic, you’ll be at the Gladiator II premiere, Pedro’s movie. They’ll be focused less on your dress and more on your appearance, but lucky for you, you have an excuse for that. You’ll say you’re there to meet with the director, that you’re thinking about working with him. You just hope they’ll believe it.

Walking out of the bathroom, you’re met face to face with your assistant, Daphne, whom you call Daph for short. She gives you a once-over and nods her head, looking around and saying, “I don’t know if Pedro’s going to be able to resist you this time around.”

You roll your eyes and mutter a small, “Thanks.” She gives you a thumbs-up and a coy smile.

“Shoes on?” She asks. You nod. “Hair?” Your hairstylist rushes over to you to fix a single strand, tucks it behind your ear, and then steps away. “Alrighty, I think we’re good to go.”

You turn to your glam team, thanking them for all their hard work and then you’re off to the premiere, but not before Estelle shouts, “Say hello to Pedro for me,” which gives everyone in the room a laugh.

You let out a giggle. “Bye, everyone.” And they all give a bye in return, some shouting, “Have fun!”

—

In the car, Daphne is helping you prepare for interviews. You’re sitting one seat over from her, not really paying attention since she has probably been over this a million times within two days.

When she first found out you were going to attend the premiere, she was baffled. “After all the rumors going around? Are you kidding me?” She had said.

You had told her it would be good for you, that you had come up with a reason that makes you look like you are strictly there for business and definitely not because you want to be one of the first ones to see Pedro Pascal in a gladiator costume, possibly all sweaty, and looking criminalally good. You could not pass up this opportunity.

It’s also a chance to clear up any rumors, or at least try to. You’re just really just trying to help your publicist who’s already way too stressed, but you just keep making things worse.

Sunday morning, you had woken up to a phone being pushed into your face, an article with the headline in big bold letters that read “FAMOUS ACTRESS SPOTTED OUTSIDE PEDRO PASCAL'S HOME.”

And it wasn’t your publicist behind that phone, it had been your assistant who had been told by your publicist.

Oh, was Daphne angry? No. She was fuming. “Call him. Now,” she said with a stern tone. And you were going to dial the number to talk things out with Pedro but you really just needed time to let everything sink in, you had just woken up for crying out loud.

You had told Daphne you’d call him later—later meaning that you’d wait for him to call you. He probably hadn’t even seen it yet, or so you told yourself.

So you waited.

And you waited

And, to your disappointment, you waited.

You would check your phone constantly. Every time you found your self drifting off during your meeting you shook yourself awake and checked your phone. Whenever Daphne mentioned something about the rumors you were quick to check your phone.

It got to a point where she literally had to rip your phone away from you just so you can get through a line from a script you were supposed to be rehearsing.

Then, just as you’re pushing your dinner around the plate, you phone buzzes. One buzz. Then another. You freeze

Please don't be a stupid notification. Please—Pedro’s name lights up your screen and you don’t even hesitate to press accept, taking a shaky breath, and brace yourself for what he’s about to tell you.

In the car, Daphne is helping you prepare for interviews. You’re sitting one seat over from her, not really paying attention since she has probably been over this a million times within two days.

She goes through a list of every possible question in every possible form, and you know she's stressed out by the way she just keeps going.

When she first found out you were going to attend the premiere, she was baffled. “After all the rumors going around? Are you kidding me?” She had said.

It’s also a chance to clear up any rumors, or at least try to. You’re just really just trying to help your publicist who’s already way too stressed, but you just keep making things worse.

You should’ve listened to Daphne when she told you not to go to Pedro’s, that you may get caught and it’ll be a big problem if you did. You wished you hadn’t ignored her warnings and simply just brushed her off saying that it would be fine because look at how wrong you were.

Now, all you can do is hope that an interviewer won’t ask about what’s going on between you and Pedro.

At least Pedro is worry-free, he just thinks that you were kidding about attending the premiere but little does he know you’re about to draw lots of attention right now.

—

Your heel hits the red carpet. No one seems to notice you quite yet, which makes you even more anxious for when they do.

Flashes go off a few yards down the carpet where one of the cast members is posing, not Pedro nor Joseph—but Paul. For now all eyes are on him and for you, there’s a fleeting moment of quiet, not literal silence, but the kind of breathless stillness that lives before impact.

You take a careful step forward and as you grow into the view of one of the photographers. He looks almost unsure at first, and he mumbles, “Is that who I think it is?” It’s loud enough for the person next to him to hear and repeat the same name, her head following his. Then one by one all their eyes fly to you as travel along the carpet.

You straighten up once flashes hit your face, smiling nice and big for the camera. You lift your chin up a little more, your arms are at your sides, one resting at you hip.

You move more down along the carpet, and now you’re standing just a few feet away from Paul. In the corner of your eye, you see that Paul notices you, and he shuffles closer over to you.

You look at him and he’s already smiling. “Picture?” He offers.

“Of course.” You lean more into him, wrapping your arm around him and he follows your movement, his hand placed in the middle of your back.

They shout for you to get a little closer together so you do. You lean your head towards his just a tad for one last photo and then he pats your back. “Thanks.” You give him a nod and follow him off the carpet.

Anyone you saw with a microphone you tried to dodge and stay out of their sight. Weaving your way through the crowds, but you couldn’t ignore everyone.

Some of the cast members came up to you and said hi. One of them was Fred, whom you worked with once. You were surprised that he even remembered, considering it had been a while since you had seen each other. Connie had also come to you to say hello, this was actually your first time meeting her. You’ve only heard of her, never have actually seen her in person before, she said the same thing about you.

Connie was so sweet and you guys chatted for a while, but the conversation was cut short when an interviewer snuck up on you. You felt a tap on your shoulder and Connie excused herself so you could be interviewed without interruption, part of you wanted to beg her not to leave you, but you couldn’t.

Where Connie was standing is where the interviewer was standing now. She introduced herself as Steph from Entertainment Tonight, and you're all rainbows and sunshine on the outside, but on the inside you're about to freak out because you know that they’re about to go in deep with these questions.

She looked into the camera, and so did you. “You, my dear, look breathtaking tonight. I have to say this dress is a moment.”

“Thank you, Steph, it means a lot. I really needed something that was bold, especially for tonight, you know?” She agrees, and then her face shifts into one of curiosity.

“We didn’t know we’d be seeing you here tonight, and we were wondering what brought you out?” She holds up the microphone to your lips.

“I have so much respect for everyone on the team and I wanted to see all the hard work they put into this movie come to life.” You continue, “The story scale, the artistry, the history. It all reminds you why you love what you do and it really inspires you.”

“Of course, of course! All of the cast members are so talented and it's such a big night for them. I love how supportive you are!” Her eyes turned away from your for a split second to give the camera a slick grin, then they’re back on you. Her voice dips, now ever so gentle, “A lot of people think your presence tonight has something to do with Pedro Pascal. You were just seen leaving his place late Saturday night. Is you being here simply a coincidence?”

You blink, smile faltering for just a second before you regather yourself. There’s a pause, then a sigh, and you know your silence speaks louder than what you’re about to say right now. “I didn’t come tonight to answer rumors. But I know that if I’m quiet it just makes the noise louder.”

Hesitating and taking a breath, you continue, “I knew that being here tonight would raise some eyebrows, especially after Saturday. I think it’s just reading a little too much into things. Pedro is someone I care about, yes, but…” You glance off to the side, searching for the safest answer. “But caring about someone doesn't mean there’s always a headline in it.”

Steph is silent for a split second, taking the microphone away from you once she realizes you’re not going to continue. “So, you’re just friends?”

Your eyes flicker toward the camera before returning to Steph, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yes,” is your answer, but your body language says otherwise when you play with the ring around your finger.

“Well, you heard it here first, people. Just friends.” She nods in assurance. “Thank you.”

You’re thankful it’s over, but you can already feel the internet writing headlines. The nerves really got to you during that interview, and you’re sure no one believes that you and Pedro are just friends after you left his house so late at night.

Daphne won’t be too happy either with your answers. You really should’ve gone with what she told you to say in case of this, instead you kind of just freestyled it.

You notice everyone beginning to head to the theatre, so you follow the crowd inside. Before the movie starts, they give a speech to the audience that celebrates everyone behind the making of the film.

One by one all the actors come up and are congratulated, given praise for their work. The whole time you only focus on one of those actors, whose eyes are searching through the audience for one person in particular. You.

He can’t seem to find you in the sea of people, and it’s too late to continue searching because he already needs to take a seat.

So, the movie plays. You sit in the dark, laughing when you’re supposed to, clapping when it’s over, and the credits roll.

To the naked eye, you’re acting normal, but inside you’re unraveling. The entire movie played on one screen, and the interview was on repeat in the other—in your mind.

What if you hadn’t swallowed the part about being more than friends? What if you had told them it was so much more than that?

Frankly, you’re tired of hiding something that has been going on for months. You’re tired of Pedro denying that there’s nothing really going on between you, or at least, you’re tired of him pretending like there’s nothing going on because there is. There’s so much more than what he denies himself.

You quite literally canceled multiple meetings for an upcoming audition on Sunday just so you could squeeze in a fitting for the dress you wore. Replacing a meeting about character backstory for one about about heel height and fabric swatches.

The script you were reading last night? That was for the same audition, now pushed to Wednesday. The meetings for that same audition you had pushed to tomorrow.

And there was a few more things replaced, delayed, or rescheduled just so you could be here tonight. Just so you could support Pedro.

He didn’t ask you to and still, you showed up.

You’re booked and busy. You have a whole career to chase. You have people to call back, scenes to prep, and so much more.

But if he called tonight?

You’d answer.

taglist: @not-the-teen-witch @namelesslosers @oystercat

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #gladiator ll #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #gladiator movie #actress reader #famous reader #somethin’ sweet trilogy

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velaris-fic-repository · 1 day ago

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What the Tide Brings In Part Eight

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Azriel had been living mostly in his head for the past two months. Every bit of mental energy that he didn’t need always found its way back to you.

You were his mate.

He had always wanted to meet his mate - should The Cauldron have blessed him with one - but had started to think he’d never find them.

And then you quite literally swept into his life. Shipwrecked and nearly drowned on the shores of Velaris, somewhere you were never meant to be. Perhaps it truly was fate that you landed here, more so than either of you had suspected at the time.

And the first thing he’d ever done to you, his mate, the female he was made to love, was trap and interrogate you.

No bond snapping for him, though you had warmed to him pretty quickly. Azriel shook his head at that particular thought. You’d given him no indication that you even knew about the bond at all, much less if you would accept it.

You two were friends, great friends, and perhaps that was all he would ever be to you. Azriel didn’t know, wasn’t sure how to bring it up to you. If he even should at all.

All he knew was the legion of memories between the two of you and how much more each and every one of them now meant to him.

You leading him on a wild goose chase through Velaris just to mess with him. Your constant pushing of his buttons, poking and prodding him more than Cassian had ever dreamed of doing. The look on your face whenever he offered his support. That beautiful, blinding summer smile of yours that had come to light up his world more than Starfall.

You were amazing and, unbeknownst to you - bond or no bond now that he really thought about it - had the dreaded Spymaster of the Night Court, Azriel, the most notorious Shadowsinger Prythian had ever seen, wrapped wholly around your finger.

“If you’re finished brooding, I’d like to see you in the study, please,” Rhys’s voice filled his head and Azriel groaned and stood, shifting through the shadows to get to the room his brother had summoned him to.

Another little complication to this whole situation was Rhysand’s unfortunate presence in his mind at the time the bond had snapped. Azriel felt that if Rhys sent him another knowing look in your presence, High Lord or no, brotherly bond or no, he’d kick him into the cobblestones of Velaris.

Azriel appeared in front of Rhys’s desk. “What.”

Rhys took Azriel’s agitation in stride and simply said, “you have to tell her.”

“I don’t have to do anything in that regard.” There was no point in obfuscation or denying it, not when Rhys knew exactly what he’d felt on Solstice.

“Brother,” Rhys said, diplomatically, “allow me to be frank with you.”

The look on Azriel’s face was unimpressed.

“I swear, for once,” Rhys said with a long suffering sigh, “I’m being serious. Sit.”

Azriel rolled his eyes but did so.

Rhys took a second, organizing his thoughts, finding the right words, before speaking.

“Azriel, you really should tell her, I feel it would go over well.”

Azriel raised a brow, “and how many mates have you had the opportunity to drop the bombshell of a bond onto?”

Rhys sighed. “None, that’s a fair argument,” Rhys conceded, having never been in Azriel’s shoes before. Having not yet found his own mate.

“But,” Rhys continued, “I really do think it’s worth doing, in this instance. The choice is ultimately yours but, brother, I have never seen you in your own head as much as you’ve been these last few weeks. I have no doubt she has noticed too. She’s asked me about you, wondering if you’re alright without the courage to ask you herself.”

That was uncharacteristic of you, but Azriel said nothing.

Rhys forged ahead, “she deserves an explanation whether she asks for it or not. But, my biggest point on the matter is this. Az, not to put too fine a point on it but, you almost lost her before you ever had a chance to meet her. The Cauldron saved her for a reason. She was brought here for a reason. You have to have thought that.”

Azriel finally nodded.

“Az,” Rhys said gently, reaching a hand out toward the tortured Illyrian he’d been raised with, “she’s comfortable here. She’s home here. Why do you think that is?”

The doubt in his head won out. “Velaris is a beautiful city with good people and a wonderful port for her. It has everything she needs.”

“Close, but you missed something. The city, the people, those are all well and good. She does enjoy those things, but those pale in comparison to what really warmed her to this place.”

“And what’s that,” Azriel asked sarcastically.

“It has nothing to do with the city, Azriel. It had everything to do with you,” Rhys let the comment settle before he said, “whether she knows about the bond or not, the way she looks at you is not the way someone looks at their friends. She’s never looked at Cassian or I the way she looks at you.”

A small feral itch in the back of his brain snarled at the brief insinuation, but logic won out. Rhysand and Cassian held absolutely no interest in you, nor you in them, beyond friendship and he knew that.

“Tell her,” Rhys urged, “If she doesn’t accept the bond then I suppose I’ll be named the worst judge of character in all of Prythian.”

“I mean, you did keep Cassian,” Azriel said.

Rhys laughed, “you never would have made that joke if it wasn’t for her.”

Azriel knew he was right, before he even knew about the golden string trying to bind you two together, you were breaking him out of the shell he’d built around himself. You’d brought out his humor, his joy, more than anyone else.

“I’ll,” Azriel said tentatively, “I’ll think about it. I want to do it right if I’m going to do it.”

“The Inner Circle is at your disposal,” Rhys responded.

Azriel’s gaze narrowed, “does everyone know?”

“Little difficult not to guess.”

Azriel huffed and winnowed from the room.

Rhys smiled, then mentally searched for his cousin. “Mor, I have an idea.”

“A girl’s night?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at Mor over the ship manifests you’d been perusing. She’d caught you just after lunch, right when you were busy.

“Yes!”

“And,” you said, amused, “Amren agreed to this too?”

Mor nodded, settling down in the teal upholstered chair across from you, draping her legs over the arm as if it were a long couch.

You smirked and set the paperwork down. “I find that incredibly hard to believe.”

“She’s deigned to go - with the caveat that she can leave whenever she wishes-“

“-naturally,” you chuckled.

Mor shared your amusement, “-right. As long as all three of us went. It’s not an opportunity that arises very often.”

“So you’ve trapped me,” you said.

“No!” Mor said, though her amused tone suggested otherwise.

“The situation, as you’ve laid it out, means that I either go, or don’t and ruin everyone’s evening.”

Mor shrugged.

You snorted and leaned casually over the papers on your desk, “And if I’m too busy to come?”

Mor’s smirk, if it were possible, got even smarmier, “You may be the busiest bee in the harbor, but I have never known you to be too busy for drinks and revelry. You’re a pirate for Cauldron’s sake.”

“Former pirate,” you corrected.

“So you keep saying,” Mor’s voice turned sing-song-y, “It’ll be fuuuunnn…”

“I’ve got a lot to doooo…” you shot back in the same tone, a laugh bubbling up with it.

“So hand the reins over to Evander for the evening,” Mor suggested easily, “isn’t his boyfriend out of town? Besides, what is the point of having a right hand if you never slough your work off on him?”

You sighed, cocking your head to the side as you really thought it over. The last time you’d gone out with friends had been a few weeks ago and you’d been half consumed with work anyway.

Mor raised her eyebrows in childlike anticipation.

“Okay fine, I’ll meet you at Rita’s-“

“-Nope!” She grabbed you hand and pulled you through your office door, calling out down the hall. “‘Vander! The harbor’s yours for the evening!”

Evander popped his head around the corner looking at you with a confused expression. Your expression nearly mirrored his as you stumbled out of your office behind Mor.

“Uh, the manifests are on my desk, you know where everything is. The lighthouse keepers don’t change shifts for another week. We have… four ships coming in and… two going out-“

“He knows all that already, come on!”

Evander smiled kindly and waved at you, “all will be well, Harbormaster! Have a nice evening!” He, your friend, had the audacity to laugh at your befuddled state. Traitor.

“I-“ But Mor had already pulled you out into the Dockyard.

Evander could handle this. He was more than capable. You trusted him. And you knew if you walked back inside, Mor would drag you out as many times as she needed to.

Finally, you fell into step beside her. “Care to tell me what is so urgent that I had to be dragged from my office?”

“Because if I didn’t you wouldn’t have come.”

“Yes I would have!”

Mor raised a brow at you.

“I would have!” You protested.

“You’re almost worse than Az when it comes to pulling you away from your work, you know that?”

“We’re dedicated to our positions! I’ve had a lot to do, especially with raising up a navy-“

“This is what I’m talking about! You need to get out of that cave you call an office!”

Feeling challenged, you glared at her. Was she insinuating that you weren’t fun? Oh, you’d show her fun, alright. “Fine.”

Mor grinned. Hook, line, and sinker.

“Great! Now we can find you something to wear tonight!”

Your expression turned deadpan, “Mor. I have plenty to wear at home. Besides, it’s just the three of us going out, why would I need to dress up?”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve never ‘dressed up’ to go out in my life.”

“Well, tonight,” Mor said, taking your protests and molding them to her purposes, “you and I are going to look hot.”

“We look hot everyday,” you said, earning an amused snicker from her.

“There’s the party girl I was looking for!”

“Mor.”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Mor finally said but there was a wicked gleam in her eyes.

When your expression hardened, then shifted to an equally challenging smirk, one befitting your previous life, she knew she had you. Phase one on her end: complete.

After several ‘nope’s and ‘absolutely not’s from you, eventually you found an outfit you were happy with. Very reminiscent of your usual dress but a bit more tailored to the vibe Mor was looking for. Black shimmery trousers. A strapless tank to match up top with a very low back. Finished off with a shiny blue silk vest with ripple-like cuts in the back like waves.

“See? Gorgeous,” Mor said appreciatively.

“Is there a particular reason that I’ve become your dress up doll?” You asked after paying and thanking the seamstress and stepping outside. Mor had already changed into another gorgeous form fitting red dress.

“Can’t it just be fun for fun’s sake?”

“With you it rarely is,” Amren said, sidling up to the two of you silently, as if she’d been there the whole time and you’d just now noticed her. She gave voice to your own thoughts so you didn’t have to.

“Live a little! This’ll be fun!” Mor exclaimed.

“So you keep saying,” you chuckle as the three of you worked your way to Rita’s.

The boys were already inside.

Getting Cassian to agree to come was so simple it was more of a footnote than a step. The rest was peer pressure from there.

The circular booth Rhys had selected for the three of them was sequestered near the back. Hidden enough that Azriel wouldn’t catch on to what he and his cousin were attempting to do, but not far back enough to rouse suspicion.

The plan was simply outlined, and multi-pronged, allowing for a host of different avenues to reach the final goal. Which was, getting Azriel to tell you his heart’s darkest secret.

They’d both seen it on Solstice, Rhys having even more information. And the two of them were so incredibly happy for you, they just needed the two of you to be as well. You, a treasured new member of the Inner Circle deserved to find happiness. And Azriel, Mother knew how much he deserved it, whether he was willing to accept it or not.

The two of you completed each other. You just needed some nudges in the right direction.

It didn’t take long after Rhys brought the first round of drinks over for the three of you to arrive, Mor steering you well into the bar, so the boys would be able to see you but not make it obvious she knew exactly where they were.

You rolled your eyes, saying something to her the boys couldn’t hear as you took the offered shot and downed it.

Azriel, unbeknownst to him, was transfixed immediately. And simultaneously miserable. He had not words for how you looked, nor how much he was itching to rise from his seat and walk over to you. You were a siren tonight.

But he couldn’t approach you and interrupt your night. You were here to party with Mor and Amren when all he wanted was to dance with you.

“And what’s got you looking so sorry for yourself?” Cassian said, depositing his now empty glass on the wooden table.

Rhys laughed and his eyes glazed over, Cassian’s following shortly after. It didn’t last long.

Cassian slammed his hands on the table. “Shut up, no way!”

Cassian, had apparently not known. He did now.

Azriel groaned, laying his head on the table.

“What are you doing? Go dance with her!”

Azriel raised his head and glared at both his brothers, his shadows twitching in agitation around them.

“I could always go dance with her,” Cassian smirked, “if you’re not going to.”

Azriel raised his head, glare hardening even more.

“Oh yeah, Rhysie,” Cassian grinned, answering whatever comment Rhys had voiced only to him, “absolutely.”

“If you only dragged me here to make fun of me, I’ll just leave now.”

“And leave your mate to whatever plans Mor has for the evening?” Rhys asked suggestively.

Azriel was about to raise his voice in retort when a presence appeared at the edge of the table.

All three Illyrians looked up to find their swashbuckling friend smirking at them. A shadow twisted affectionately - unordered to do so, Azriel would’ve added - around your arm. You gazed at it, fondly appraising, before turning back to the boys.

“I had a feeling something was afoot this evening. Rhys, what have you done now?”

“Bold words to speak to your High Lord,” Rhys responded, amused over the rim of his glass.

“Oh I’ve only begun,” you said back with equal mirth, “Amren’s left already and Mor’s already half drunk. You two have fun taking her home. Az, wanna get out of here? I’ve got something I’ve been wanting to show you.”

Cassian’s eyebrows raised in a goofy smile you weren’t quite sure the reasoning for and you refrained from asking, especially after Azriel cut a glance his way.

“Come on,” you said, grabbing Azriel’s hands and pulled him through the bar and out onto the street.

Azriel had to school his enamored face rather quickly as you turned toward him.

Walking through the streets of Velaris, you turned and asked, “any idea why our friends were conspiring against us this evening?”

Azriel absolutely knew, but he couldn’t tell you that.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” A shadow on his shoulder whipped around to face him, looking for all the world to be chastising him. Liar.

Azriel attempted to shoo the thing before you noticed what it was doing. Luckily for him, your attention was on the harbor ahead of you.

“It’s this way!” You said, excited. You rounded a small pier, leading to a gorgeous little ship. Faelights twinkled all over it in various colors, lighting the deck like a stained glass window. Painted elegantly on the side was the name The Star Chaser.

“So, what do you think?” You asked, clearly excited as you spread your arms out towards the ship. The pride and joy in your eyes was enough for Azriel to know just how fond of the new vessel you already were.

He simply smiled at you as you couldn’t contain your excitement, reminding him fleetingly of the many steps it took to get you here.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” You asked, turning to look at the boat.

“She certainly is…” Azriel drawled, not that you could see what he was actually looking at. The ship was wonderful yes, but she was nothing compared to her captain in front of him.

Azriel coughed, and said, “so what’s the plan with…”

You turned to him, surprised, “oh, I’m not leaving! Not by any means. No. I just had the money, you know, I’ve told Rhys about a thousand times that my salary is too high-“

“-good luck winning that fight,” Azriel interjected with a small laugh. Silently relieved by your assurance.

“-right. But I thought it was time I had a boat of my own, so here she is.”

Azriel came up to you, smiling softly down at you, face washed in the kaleidoscopic faelights of your ship. “She’s wonderful. You’ve more than earned it.”

You beamed at him, expression quickly turning mischievous as you grabbed his hand and dragged him over the gangplank and up to the quarterdeck.

You plopped down on the wood, pulling Azriel down to sit with you. You quickly clapped your hands and the faelights dimmed and changed to a faint, starry blue.

The stars were always beautiful in Velaris. Of course. It’s how the city got its charming nickname. But as Azriel realized you had pulled him onto your ship to stargaze, he thought that the night sky had never looked so beautiful as it did beside you on that boat.

You watched and talked for hours, the two of you slowly slumping on each other the longer the evening went on. Azriel’s shadows had played and chased each other over the deck, sagging and shifting lazily the longer they were there. You hadn’t thought the little things could get tired, but that’s the best you could do to describe their state.

You were struggling to keep your eyes open, fully supported by only Azriel’s shoulder. You had stopped telling stories of your own ten minutes ago, instead responding with sleepy “mhmm”s. Azriel reckoned he could have asked you just about anything and you would’ve agreed no questions asked out of sheer tiredness. But he didn’t. He simply shifted his wing to drape it over your back like a blanket.

You hummed appreciatively and Azriel figured that was the final nail in the coffin for your wakefulness this evening.

Because you were mostly asleep, and because he couldn’t help himself, he leaned down and kissed your forehead. “Go to sleep. I’ve got you.”

You hummed once again, clearly almost lost to the realms of sleep. “Thank you Azriel,” you slurred.

Azriel smiled and was about to say something else when your sleepy speech froze him quicker than Kallias ever could.

“Hmm,” you sleepily said, “mate.”

Groggy, but not nearly as stiff as you expected to be, you awoke slowly the next morning.

Blinking in the darkness, it took you a long time to remember where you were. Then you realized that you had never been where you were.

A remarkably similar - if not softer and significantly less chained up - echo of your first moments in Velaris about a year ago. A bedroom instead of a cell, you realized.

The room was dark, with dark sheets and drawn curtains. The large and very soft bed was empty, save for you.

That was when you noticed a piece of the darkness that surrounded you shift.

A shadow sprang from the wall, shifting and twining around itself as it made its way across the room to the bed and then, across the bed and up to you.

“I’m in Azriel’s room, aren’t I?” You asked it.

The shadow moved in a way you could only interpret as a nod.

“He moved me from the boat last night?”

Another nod.

You remembered talking with the little creature’s master the previous night on the deck of your ship. Enjoying each other’s company and watching the stars. You’d been so close to telling him that night. Telling him about the bond and how much you’d thought about it, but you had also remembered every time you’d reached out. Finding nothing there. You were mates, you’d known from nearly the moment you’d met him. But, you wanted him to find out in his own time. Come to his own terms about it. So you stayed silent, falling asleep on his shoulder without having said a thing.

You did not remember your sleepy brain, coaxed by the comfort of your mate beside you, spilling the beans anyway.

The shadow twisted, almost like a dog tilting its head. It seemed to eye you suspiciously, trying to figure something out about you.

It seemed to come to some conclusion because it flitted smoothly over your hand once before bounding off the bed and under the door, where a sliver of light marked its escape.

It was back just as quickly, bouncing up and onto your shoulder, softly caressing the side of your neck and ear. You found that you quite liked the feeling.

On his way, the little thing seemed to whisper in your ear.

You startled, you weren’t aware that Azriel’s shadows would or even could talk to others.

Why you? Why now?

You think you could guess why but it felt like too much to hope for anything this early in the morning. Especially something as big as this.

The door slowly opened and clicked back shut a moment later as Azriel entered and closed the door.

The two of you stared at each other for a long, long time.

Nervous, the shadow whispered in your ear. You weren’t sure which one of you it was talking about.

Azriel sighed shakily. His voice came out hesitant, as if he were afraid the question he asked would burn him.

“You knew?”

The world stopped.

You didn’t know how to answer him. Didn’t dare to hope that what he was asking you was what you had been dying for him to talk to you about for the better part of a year now.

As if to answer your hesitation, there was a brief, probing tug in your chest. That’s what you’d been waiting for.

You gasped, “…yes.”

Azriel seemed even shakier than before, the two of you altogether unsteady. He looked about ready to kneel beside the bed but he remained standing.

“How long?” He rasped like a man dying of thirst. Surrounded by sea water without a drop of it to drink.

The both of you were in treacherous, unsteady waters. But you’d survived them before. You would weather them now. Especially when the land you sought, the bond you ached to complete, sat on the horizon of this conversation as a glowing reward.

You cleared your throat and unflinchingly met his gaze.

“The whole time.”

Azriel buckled. “What?”

“Since the moment you held Truthteller to my chin.” You laughed, but only with a pinch of humor behind it, “Not sure what that says about me, but it’s true.”

“The whole time?” Azriel echoed, stunned.

“Yes.”

“The whole time,” he said again.

“That’s what I said.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The drama of the moment began to fizzle out for you as you smiled wryly at him. “Az, be honest with me. If I had told you, at the moment the bond snapped, would you have believed me?”

“…Well… No…”

“Thought so,” you said, humor bubbling up.

“But that still doesn’t-“

“I still had to come to terms with it in that moment. And once I had, I wanted you to figure it out on your own. If you did and accepted it, great! But I wasn’t going to drop that into your already perfect life and disrupt the waters. Looks like I screwed the pooch on that front though.”

“…I wouldn’t say that…”

You cocked your head to the side.

Knew, the shadow whispered to you.

“Az…” you said.

“The bond snapped for me on Solstice… After I gave you your present.”

“Azriel,” you said, “you do realize that was months ago, right?”

“Yes, but you didn’t tell me about the bond either!”

“And I waited a hell of a lot longer than you did!” You shouted back. “Who’s the real pining tragedy in this scenario!?”

“You! But I-“

You dissolved into a fit of giggles as you flopped on his bed, clutching your sides and struggling to breathe.

Azriel immediately rushed to your side and held your hand, checking you over in concern despite the evident joy in you at this moment.

“Mor was exactly right about just how stubborn we are,” you said as your laughter subsided.

“I guess that’s why we’re mates,” Azriel offered softly. You laughed softly, once, looking into his eyes.

“So, what’s that mean, do you- do we?” You weren’t sure what you wanted to ask, or what order you wanted to ask it in.

“You’ve always talked too much,” Azriel said before leaning forward and kissing you.

You wanted to push him off, to demand he answer your unspoken question about accepting the bond, but the way those golden strings were humming in your chest, that was all the answer you needed.

The way he was kissing you also did a wonderful job of making everything other than that sensation very hard to focus on.

When you separated, gasping for air, you looked at Azriel sheepishly and said, “now may be a bad time to tell you that I’m a really shitty cook.”

Azriel laughed loud and full, pecking your lips again before he said, “whatever it is I’ll eat it, I don’t care.”

“So-“

“-Yes.” There was so much behind that one word. So much of his heart and soul poured out to you in those three little letters.

You smiled up at him, a hint of mischief in it, but so, so genuinely happy you couldn’t bring yourself to ruin it.

“You’re everything I ever wanted,” you said to him.

The look in his eyes would have told you enough, but there was a feeling in your chest then too. Me too, it seemed to say, I’ve loved you long before I ever met you.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulled him in for a searing kiss before letting him go, and walking out of the room, down towards the kitchen.

“Come on,” you called after him.

Mother help him, he followed right after you. Wrapped around your finger that was for sure, but you were wrapped around his too. You’d seen the dark parts of each other, reflected off of one another. But you saw the light too and had helped each other stand and weather storms of all kinds. And you would continue to do so for as long as the two of you walked this world.

The tide swept you into each other and nothing in this world would ever make either of you let go ever again.

A/N: Sorry for the long wait guys! I really wanted to make sure I got this one just right! The epilogue should not take nearly as long!

Series Taglist: @rcarbo1 @shylahstarzz @tele86 @bubybubsters @willowpains @breemitch15 @96jnie @polli05927 @starsidesigh @i-am-infinite @ashjade19 @lilah-asteria @lexi-in-wonderland @oldernotwiser26

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel acotar #acotar #cassian #rhysand #mor acotar #morrigan acotar #mor #morrigan #amren #amren acotar

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kawaiigirly21 · 2 days ago

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Our Little Soda Pop: Chapter 6

... WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE!?” Abby shouted as he and the others panicked after seeing her get yanked through the fabric of time and space. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I'm gonna call her! I should call her right?!” Romance rambled as he paced the floor. “That was Gwi-Ma… he did this.” Mystery replied, staring at the place Natasha had once been then at his hand. “He snatched her away… So quickly… Do you think this is his way of telling us anything that makes us happy… he can take it away… just like that?” He added making the others stop in their panic.

“He's not wrong… Gwi-Ma really can do that… is he… punishing us?” Jinu wondered aloud before in a puff of pink smoke, Natasha dropped from the ceiling into his arms. “What the what?” He stood in shock as Natasha sat in his arms. The dazed expression on her face worried the group. “Natasha? What happened? Are you ok?” Jinu asked, walking over to the couch and reluctantly placing her on it. “She's not answering. Why isn't she answering?” Romance placed a hand on Natasha's shoulder.

“Tasha?” The slow turn of her head made things worse by how deeply she was staring at them. As if she was trying to search for their lost souls. Then suddenly “The next time I see him, I'm going to kill him and destroy everything he holds dear. Which isn't much.” She mumbled before closing her eyes and heaving a deep tired sigh. “Gwi-Ma?” Jinu asked. Still worried about Natasha's mental state. She gave a slow nod before turning to the boys. “I don't think you guys need me anymore. You've done well these past weeks. Baby shook his head. “No, we still need you. Don't you go and quit on us. Not when we're so close.”

Natasha shrugged. “Do you really want to do this? Do you really want to kill the hunters? Do you really want to give souls to Gwi-Ma and be berated because he's never satisfied? Or do you like being here? Being somewhat human? Being idols and having your freedom. Free from his voice in your heads? You boys have a choice.” As a wave of silence went through the penthouse, Mystery spoke up. “I don't want to do this anymore… I just want to be with you…” He then hugged Natasha tightly.

“Same… killing the hunters isn't worth it and feeding off souls isn't as satisfying as one might think.” Romance added. “In all honesty… Fuck Gwi-Ma. He's done nothing but make us suffer.” Baby replied as he took a seat next to Natasha. “Yea. I'm done doing his bidding. I feel better when I'm with you… I feel like I actually have a mind of my own.” Abby said before slamming his body onto the other side of the couch. “The repercussions… Is this really wise? What if he…” “Jinu, he won't hurt you. Not when he knows you belong with me. You have nothing to fear when you're with me.” Natasha said as she touched his cheek softly.

The man closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, letting out a relaxed sigh. He felt warm. He felt… home. Weeks later, the boys began to adjust to a new routine that didn't involve doing Gwi-Ma’s bidding or something evil. Since their refusal to work for Gwi-Ma, they found themselves happier than ever before. Their music career even took off. “Ugh my hand is cramping up! How many of these do we have to sign?” Baby whined as he hit his head on the table with pictures and merch sprawled out around him. “As many as you can love, you don't want to disappoint your fans do you?” Natasha replied as she sat on Jinu’s lap.

“How come he gets lap time?” Romance pouted. “I finished signing all my merchandise. And I have more than you.” He smirked while kissing on Natasha's neck. “Piece of shit.” Abby mumbled while scribbling his signature on yet another polaroid of him for the 200th time. “We should write another song.” Mystery suddenly spoke. Appearing from a mountain of merchandise and photos he had just finished signing. “Seriously? Wasn't Soda Pop enough?” Abby responded. “Not if you wanna stay famous Abs. You guys might become 1 hit wonders if you don't make another song soon.” Natasha replied. “You wrote songs before right? Write one for us!” Romance jumped up.

“Yea, show us those retired skills that made you famous.” Jinu smiled. Before Natasha could even begin to protest, she noticed the eyes of the group deadlocked on her. With slightly pouty expressions. “I don't know guys. It's been a while.” Natasha mumbled. “Please? We never got to see you in action. Now would be the perfect time.” Mystery said while putting a soft hand on Natasha's thigh. “Alright, I'll write your next song. But Jinu, Abby? You'll have to choreograph it.” The pair then nodded. “Baby? It might be a slow paced song. Are you ok with that?” The man pretended to think before smiling. “You know it.”

Over the course of that month, Natasha wrote a song for the group. As well as producing the beat while Jinu and Abby choreographed the dance to the song and Mystery with Romance came up with a concept for the video. After making the promo and releasing the song, the boys soon had their first live performance of the song that night. Excitement quickly spread through the populace and the group was no less excited. Probably even more because this would be their first song and performance that had nothing to do with consuming souls or Gwi-Ma. It was originally and perfectly them.

“I can't find my hat! We go on in like 30! Where's my damn hat!?” Baby's deep voice shouted through the venue. “It's on your head dear.” Natasha replied as she applied Mystery’s lip gloss for him. “... Oh.. Thanks babe. I mean Miss Manager.” He smirked as he snuck a quick kiss to her lips. “ Where's Jinu?” Natasha asked after moving to Abby and buttoning up his shirt because his hands were ‘oh so tired from signing fan letters all day’. “He and Romance went to check on the lights.” Mystery replied before leaning down and pressing a deep kiss to her lips. “Mm~ No honey! I just applied that! Now I gotta start all over!” Natasha scolded to which Mystery only smiled softly.

“Oh no. How unfortunate.” As Natasha began to apply his lip gloss once more, Jinu walked up behind her and kissed her cheek. “Hey sweetie. You should come on stage with us tonight. It's your song we're singing.” He smiled. “Absolutely not. I did my time.” Romance chuckled as he stood on her other side. “You speak of it like it was a prison sentence.” Suddenly, the sound of the doors opening and people flooding into the venue alerted the group and it was clear they were practically buzzing with excitement. “We should go practice a bit more! Just to make sure we got the routine perfectly!” Jinu grinned as he and the others went to find a place to rehearse one last time.

“Babe? You coming?” Baby asked. “Huh? Oh yea! Give me a minute! I'll catch up!” Natasha smiled. As soon as the boys were out of sight however, her smile dropped as she ran to the nearest bathroom to puke. Hands trembling and body unnaturally cold, Natasha pulled out a positive pregnancy test from her purse. “What am I gonna do…”

@libdarkheart

Chapter 7

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goat-fanatic · 1 day ago

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hi guys so im back from dead and i have written a one shot/ chapter one???? for creature au. things to consider before you read. this is my first attempt at creative writing in like 6 years. also english is not my first language so forgive me

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It was a quiet night.

Not the comfortable kind of quiet. The kind of quiet one might be stuck in just before a hurricane strikes and destroys everything in its path. The kind of quiet you dread because it represents the lack of sound that should be in its place.

There should be faint, crackling sound made by a gaming consoles shitty speaker. There should be an almost unnoticable sizzle coming off of a smoked, cheap cigarette. A pointless argument about a B-list movie premiering at the local cinema. Soft snoring. Laughter. Anything.

But it was quiet. Save for the mocking taps of raindrops crashing against the window ofcourse, because the universe loves cliches.

"We should be doing something"

A voice broke the suffocating silence. It's owner, now sat upright on a rickety, beer stained couch. Hands raking almost obssesively through his unkempt hair. Franks haircut was often the topic of many jokes and jabs within the group. After all it was a bit outrageous to proudly stick to that uneven, choppy mess, especially for someone who's able to change their appearance with a blink of an eye.

"Do what?" An almost accusatory tone responded. Words tinted with annoyance and exhaustion. "We called everywhere. Checked everything. Every hospital, morgue and police station. Every one of his wierd hiding spots. What else is there to be done, man?" Rays curls covered his face as he slumped deeper into the recliner he was occupying. His hands rubbing at tired eyes, now adorned with heavy patches of a greyish purple. A physical manifestation of hours of missed sleep and desperation.

One person however stayed loyal to the crushing quietness of the room. Clanky, rectengular glasses long abandoned on a coffee table between a half empty can of a questionable energy drink and a crumpled newspaper. Knees drawn up, supporting a head heavy with all the most horrific 'what if's' one could possibly come up with in this situation. Mikey didn't say a word. Just stared blankly at a bootleg Metallica poster barely hanging on the wall infront of him. Logically he knew Ray was right. What else was there to be done? But logic flies out the window very quickly when your older brother goes missing.

"Mikey, you should really get some sleep. A heart attack from all the caffine is not gonna' bring him back, you know?" Spoke up Frank, almost like he was trying to diverge from the objective truth of Rays words.

"I'm fine and I don't need a second mother." The younger of the Way brothers barked back, eyes still on that damned poster. A gift from Gerard for his 17th birthday. God that felt like ages ago.

Before his mind could linger on the fond memories for too long, a few loud bangs resonated through the house like gunshots. All three boys jumped in their seats and, as if on cue, looked at the front door. Then a look between one another. Mikeys lanky frame shot up from the couch and in mere seconds he was at the door. One more look back at his friends, now sat straight and at full awerness.

Clamy hand reached for the door knob and time came to a screeching halt. The action of opening the door took millenia. An eternity has passed before he took in the image in front of him.

Rain still pounded aggresively against the mossy driveway, drowning out the buzz of electricity usually coming off the nearby street lights. Even in this enviorment Gerards frame remained soft and warm against the element. Even trembling, hunched over and wet to the bone, his presence brought the silent comfort and stability Mikey needed oh so desperately.

"Gee...?" He began, tounge heavy and uncooperating.

"Hey Mikes" The older Way made an attempt at a smile but what came out looked more like a painful grimace. "Mind if I- "

His question was cut short by a crushing hug knocking the breath out of his chest. He bit his tounge as to not whine in pain and akwardly rubbed the ratty material of the back of Mikeys t-shirt.

Then in seconds the warmth was gone and he was only met with glossy eyes and an expression that would put a kicked puppy to shame.

"Where the hell have you been!?" Mikey choked out between heavy breaths. "Do you have any fucking idea how worried we were?"

Thats when Gerard noticed the two extra figures who seemingly materialized behind his brother. Right. Ray and Frank.

"Listen I can explain-" He started now fidgeting with his hands under the drilling stares of all three of them.

"No! You could've atleast left a stupid note! A phone call! You don't get to-" This time Mikeys rant was cut off by a hand on his shoulder and a less frantic voice.

"Okay let's calm down a bit." Rays voice left no room for argument. "Let's get inside before we all get sick and talk."

Mikeys breaths were still ragged, his expression still tight but he obliged. Gerard just pretty much stumbled into the house, almost tripping on the doormat in the process.

#mcr #my chemical romance #mcr fic #gerard way #mikey way #frank iero #ray toro #rayrard #eventually anyways

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knowinglewis · 8 hours ago

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Fading Lines

Part one/Part Two/Part Three/Part Four/Part Five/Final Part

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: The lines between friendship and something more start to blur between you and Lewis when after invites you to his first race weekend with Ferrari.

Word Count: 13,256

Warnings: ANGST, arguing, anxiety, yearning, overthinking. Some smut, but tooth aching sugar sweet FLUFFFFF! No use of Y/N.

A/N: WELP. Here we are my loves! This series has come to an end, and my apologies for the delay in getting the finale to you. It was a labour of love and I truly hope you all enjoy it! I'm really sad to finish this series, though I could be tempted to write an epilogue chapter too, but just unsure how I want that to look yet! From the bottom of my heart thank you all SO SO SOOOOOOO insanely much for reading this series and sticking with me through this journey! Please let me know your thoughts on it or if there's anything you'd like to see next! 🤍

Lewis said he needed to see you, that he was coming.

The words kept echoing in your head, looping louder than the doubts trying to creep in beneath them. You hadn’t asked questions, hadn’t asked if he was already on the way, or if he was still just making up his mind. You didn’t even know where he was flying from, but he sounded sure, as if he had already made the decision before the phone rang.

Still, a part of you couldn’t help it, hesitation had already settled somewhere beneath your ribs. What if he didn’t come? What if this was just another almost?

You blinked hard and pushed the thought away. You needed to move.

You stood up too quickly, your limbs stiff, and your breath shaky as you walked through your apartment. The place was a mess in that sudden, microscopic way where everything seemed messy when you knew someone else was going to be looking. You started in the living room, gathering the cardigan draped over the armrest, the pair of socks kicked under the coffee table, the half-finished cup of tea now gone cold.

You moved on instinct, straightening cushions, gathering mugs, wiping surfaces. The kind of pointless cleaning you did when your body needed distraction, because your mind was already spiraling from the messiness of the morning.

You were halfway through wiping down the kitchen bench when your phone buzzed on the counter, a text from Lewis appearing across the screen.

Landing just after 8. Should be at yours by 9.

You stared at the message until the screen dimmed, before reading it again. He was actually coming.

You replied with a simple, "Okay. See you soon." But you held the phone in your hand for a long time after, like it was grounding you.

Then came the other part. Isabella’s voice had been sharp and clear when you called her later that afternoon: “Deactivate your socials. Or go private. Whatever you do, stop giving them access.”

You sat on the edge of your bed, your laptop balanced across your knees. Instagram was first, you scrolled through the flood of DMs and tags with your stomach twisting. People had already seen the photos of you at the airport, along with other photos that had surfaced of you at the Melbourne race with Isabella and Raye.

Some comments were kind, complimenting you and how cute you looked with Lewis. Some were curious, wanting to know more about your relationship. Others weren’t, others were horrified at the sight of their celebrity crush being spotted with his lips on some woman. Especially after only ever being spotted walking side by side with his past flings, or within groups with friends, since his public split from his long time ex. This time, it was right in all of their faces, your hands on each other and your lips connected.

You didn’t let yourself linger though, you went private. Turned off tags, disabled comments, deleted one or two posts without thinking too hard about it. You resisted the urge to scroll through your endless DMs, some with messages of support, while others sending all forms of threats and hatred towards you for stealing their dream man. Then, you moved on to your other socials with the same process. Lock it down, and delete anything you didn’t want seen, especially posts that included your family or your workplace.

When you closed your laptop, the room felt quieter, less exposed.

The clock read 7:10pm.

You still had time before he arrived, though now that you had stopped moving, your hands had started shaking again. You stepped into the shower, turned the water hot, and stood under the spray for as long as your skin could stand it. It didn’t calm you completely, but it helped you feel a little more refreshed.

By the time you were dry and dressed, in soft track pants and a loose top, you felt like you’d done everything you could. The apartment was clean, you were clean, and your notifications were finally silent.

Yet still, doubt crawled its way back in.

What if something changed? What if he didn’t show?

You tried not to look at the clock again, but you always did. 7:52. 8:06. 8:19.

You lit a candle, then blew it out five minutes later because the scent made your stomach turn. You poured a glass of water, drank half, then sat on the couch with your legs pulled up and your phone resting in your palm.

It buzzed again just before 8:40pm with a text from Lewis.

I’ll be there soon

Your breath caught in your throat. The doubt didn’t vanish, but it softened with a flicker of hope.

You typed out an “Okay,” then deleted it and sent a heart instead. Something simple, and almost safer.

Then, you waited.

You must have closed your eyes for just a moment.

The TV played something you weren't really watching, just background noise to keep your mind from spinning too fast. You'd stretched out on the couch with a throw blanket draped loosely over your legs, your phone resting next to you, and the soft sound of the room lulling you into a light, uneasy sleep.

It wasn’t a peaceful sleep, not with your body still holding all that tension in your shoulders, your jaw tight even as you drifted off. You didn’t dream, you only floated somewhere between exhaustion and the heaviness of the day.

A knock on the door pulled you back to reality.

You blinked awake, heart fluttering in your chest for a split second, unsure whether you’d imagined it. Until another softer knock, like he didn’t want to startle you.

You sat up quickly, the blanket sliding off your lap as you scrambled to your feet, the room spinning for a second before settling.

He was here.

You crossed the apartment in a blur, your heart pounding in your ears as you reached for the door, fingers suddenly cold against the handle. You paused for half a breath, just to steel yourself.

Then you opened it, and he was there.

Standing under the low glow of the hallway light, his braids tied back as usual, eyes shadowed from the long travel day. He looked exhausted, but still his warm, calm self.

In one hand, he held a paper bag with the logo of your favourite local takeaway place printed on the side. In the other, a small bunch of flowers, your favourite kind, the same ones he’d once sent you for your birthday, you didn’t think he’d even remembered. They weren’t perfectly arranged or extravagant, but they were thoughtful and beautiful.

You froze in the doorway. All the noise, the doubt, the what-ifs from the last few days slammed into your chest in one wave. He had come, he was standing in front of you, carrying comfort in both hands and looking at you as though you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

“Hi,” he greeted quietly, his voice rough, like maybe he didn’t trust his voice either.

You barely heard it though.

You felt your heart crack in your chest, a soft unraveling that started in your ribcage and spread all the way to your throat. You’d held it together all day, hours of silence, tension, of holding your breath against the noise online, the doubts in your mind, the uncertainty that had followed you like a shadow from the moment you’d stepped away from him at the airport.

Now, he was here, and that was all it took.

You stepped forward without a word, reaching for him before your mind could second-guess it. The bouquet crinkled at your side, the takeaway bag rustling quietly as he adjusted to keep them both from getting crushed. His arms came around you, the weight anchoring you instantly like it had been waiting for you.

Your cheek pressed to his chest, and the tears came silently, burning hot against your skin. You didn’t sob, didn’t shake. You just let go, letting yourself feel how much you’d needed him. How much you hated the space that had formed between you. How terrified you’d been that he’d stay away while you struggled with this pain alone.

“I’ve got you,” Lewis whispered against your hair, his voice gentle with an ache of its own. “I’m here, sweetheart.”

His hand rubbed slow circles between your shoulder blades, the warmth easing your pain. His voice was steady, but you could feel the tension in him too, his heart beating faster, his breathing uneven.

You didn’t know how long you stood like that, pressed against him in the doorway, the night quiet around you. However, for the first time since everything fell apart, you felt yourself start to breathe properly again.

Eventually, you pulled back, your cheek still damp, and your fingers trembling slightly where they clung to the front of his shirt. You stepped out of his arms with a soft inhale, brushing at your eyes even though he’d already seen you like that with a quiet apology. He let you go slowly, hand trailing down your back until it fell away completely.

“Come in,” you murmured, your voice hoarse. “It’s cold out here.”

Lewis nodded and stepped inside. The hallway light caught on the curve of his cheekbone, highlighting the exhaustion in his handsome features. His shoulders were heavy with travel, yet he always managed to look as perfect as ever. He set the takeaway bag gently on the kitchen bench, then placed the flowers down beside it.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be hungry,” he remarked after a short moment, quiet as though unsure if it was safe to speak yet. “But I remember you said this place was your favourite.”

He remembered. It was only something you’d said offhandedly months ago as a recommendation if he ever visited. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. You could feel the pressure building again just beneath the surface, with grief, confusion, the ache of caring too much and not knowing where to put it.

You crossed to the kitchen slowly and helped unpack the containers, your movements automatic. He was close but kept a respectful distance, as if he wasn’t sure where your boundaries were anymore. You didn’t know either.

The food smelled good, but your stomach was still tight and unsettled, your appetite completely gone. You arranged the bouquet in a vase just to keep your hands busy from fidgeting anxiously. He watched you for a moment, but didn’t comment.

You sat on the couch with him, though it felt like a silent agreement rather than comfort. Lewis set the food down between you, and offered you a fork.

You shook your head gently. “I’m not hungry, thank you.”

His eyebrows creased together, just slightly in concern. Still, he didn’t push.

You let your eyes trail over him, taking him in as words reeled in your mind of what to say. He looked tired, like been carrying more than just a long travel day. You wondered when he’d last slept properly, whether he’d eaten at all before this. Whether he’d sat on that plane wondering if you’d even open the door.

Neither of you spoke for a few minutes, but it wasn’t the good kind of silence this time. It wasn’t comforting or soft. It pressed in from the edges, heavy in a thick tension that drowned the words from your mouth. It was the kind of silence that existed between two people trying to find their way back to each other, but unsure if they were supposed to.

You pulled the blanket back over your legs, suddenly cold again. Not from the air, but from how close he was without being close enough. From how badly you wanted to lean into him again, but how afraid you were of what might happen if you did.

Lewis had picked at the meal for a while, then given up too. He sat with his elbows on his knees, staring down at his hands. He looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know how to begin.

Until finally, he cleared his throat, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Your gaze dropped to your fingers, clutching the fabric of the blanket at your thighs as he continued.

“I didn’t want any of this to happen to you.”

The apology landed softly inside your heart, but it didn’t settle anything yet. It didn’t ease your stress or diminish the fact that your entire life had been turned upside down overnight.

He glanced over at you, then back at the floor. “I know it’s bad right now.” His attempt at positivity fell flat. “But…things like this move fast. It won’t always be like this.”

You turned toward him slowly, disbelief building like a slow-moving wave.

“Bad?” You laughed bitterly, your voice sharp. “You think it’s just going to disappear? Something I just have to wait out until everyone gets bored?”

He hesitated. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No?” You sat up straighter, a sharp edge slicing into your voice. “Because that’s what it sounds like. You think this is just part of the deal?”

“I’m just trying to say it won’t always feel like this,” he replied carefully. “That there’s a way through it. I’m not saying it’s nothing.”

You stared at him, heat prickling at your eyes and your heart pounding in your ears. “No, Lewis. I’ve seen what happens to girls who get caught near drivers let alone kissing one. The vile comments, assumptions, death threats. Everyone turning your life into a spectacle out of nowhere. I’m not famous, I don’t have a team protecting me like you do. They’ve found so much of my life, they’ve posted photos of me from years ago and called me things I can’t even say out loud.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt.

“You’re Lewis Hamilton. You’ll get a few questions from the media about being off the market or something, then everyone will move on like they usually do. Meanwhile, my entire life has been turned upside down.” You went on, your voice rising in sharp, uneven bursts.

“I knew spending time with you came with this risk, but it’s different when it’s actually happening. They didn’t just see us hanging out, they saw a very private moment. It’s not a hypothetical anymore, it’s real now and it’s fucking terrifying.”

Your chest was heaving now, fingers curled in your lap. You couldn’t look at him after you’d spilled out the words you’d been holding in, the tears stinging your eyes slowly rolling down your cheeks.

Lewis leaned forward against his knees, running a hand down his face. “I didn’t realise it got that bad. That they found so much and people were-”

“Digging into my life?” you finished for him, your voice splintering. “Yeah.”

His gaze snapped up and guilt flashed across his face, but he couldn’t meet your eyes.

You didn’t look at him either, you couldn’t bring yourself to. You stared ahead like the air in front of you might break open and swallow you whole. “They found everything. People I haven’t spoken to since high school have messaged me. My parents called me in a panic. My boss called me. Do you know how humiliating that is?”

He didn’t speak, but you could feel him watching you. You wished he’d stop.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered.

He rubbed his hand over his jaw. “I should’ve been here sooner. I called you as soon as I saw it.”

“I know,” you started, swallowing past the pain in your throat. “It doesn’t really change anything though, does it? Everything is already out there, you’re too late.”

“I’m here,” he spoke quickly, like it was the only thing he could cling to. “I got on a flight the moment I could. I-”

“But where were you the last five weeks?” Your voice wavered, but the anger underneath it didn’t as the question you’d been holding in your chest finally reached the surface.

His eyebrows pulled together as he explained, “I was working, my schedule was packed. The triple header, and every other second was just filled with something.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that.” You muttered in response. “That’s not what I mean. I barely heard from you, Lewis.”

His mouth opened as though he was about to speak, but was cut off when you stood up abruptly. You couldn’t stand to be near him another second, you needed to move away and give yourself the space to breathe, to think your next words through. Moving towards the kitchen, you paced behind the island as though it were a barrier, splitting yourself from the situation for a moment.

You didn’t want to have this conversation right now, but it was too late, you were already at the edge of the cliff and there was nothing left to do but take the leap.

“I know that’s how your life is. You’re always busy, always travelling, I understand that.” You began, thumbing the edge of the counter to ground yourself. “But, we used to talk all the time. You always made time for me, even if you’d hardly slept. Then after China, everything just…”

Lewis stayed quiet, but you could feel the shift in the air and the subtle drop in his posture, like he knew what was coming.

You forced yourself to keep going, knowing that it was now or never. “Everything changed. You hardly messaged or called. You’d take days to reply and when you did, it was just…nothing. I kept telling myself you were just busy, tried to convince myself that this was normal, but honestly, all you did was give me enough crumbs to keep hanging on to whatever this was.”

He stood from his seat and stepped towards you. “It’s not like that-”

“Isn’t it?” You cut him off again, swallowing back the choking feeling in your throat. “This is what you do, isn’t it, Lewis? You fly girls out, make them feel special so you can get in their pants, then keep them just close enough so they can’t move on and you can reach out to them again when you’re feeling lonely. I know all of that.”

He shook his head, as though he was about to deny it, but the slump of his shoulders betrayed him.

“It sounds stupid, but I thought this was different. Maybe you cared about me more than that, but it was all the same. You took me to China, made me feel like I was important to you, fucked me, then just…nothing. Like it meant nothing to you, I meant nothing.” Your voice broke at the last syllable, blinking away the tears in your eyes.

“Don’t say that.” Lewis took another step forward as you finally allowed him a second to speak. “Don’t ever say that, you know it’s not true.”

“Do I?” You snapped, backing away before he could get too close. “Because I’ve been sitting with this for weeks. Checking my phone like some idiot, thinking about our time together and wondering if you were already moving on to the next girl-”

“Stop.” He said abruptly, the frustration in his voice causing it to crack just enough that you would notice. “Don’t even think that. It was everything to me. I thought about you every single day.”

You felt unsteady on your feet at his words, your heart pounding behind your ribs. Still, your voice stayed sharp. “Please, Lewis, don’t say shit you don’t mean just to make me feel better.”

Lewis looked startled by the shift, pausing on his path towards you. “I mean it.”

“Then where were you?” You spit out finally meeting his eyes. “This whole time, you’ve been treating me like I don’t exist, like I’m just another one of your girls that you reach out to when it’s convenient. Some people might be okay with that, but that’s not me. You don’t get to treat me that way, then show up here when something goes wrong and act like you care now.”

He closed his eyes as he took in your words, then released a low, deep breath.

“I know I disappointed you. I know I hurt you. I don��t deserve to stand here and tell you what this should mean, or how you should feel. I messed it up. You didn’t deserve to be left guessing like that after everything we shared, everything I felt.” He looked down at the floor, jaw clenched. “You were never just someone I reached for out of convenience. That weekend wasn’t casual to me. Honestly, I never wanted it to end. I woke up next to you and thought this is it.”

He touched a hand to the kitchen counter like he was still trying to steady himself. “It meant everything, you mean everything to me. I’ve felt it for a long time, but I didn’t know how to handle it without ruining our friendship. I kept telling myself we’d figure it out eventually, we’d have this conversation next time, then the next, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I acted like a coward scared of my own feelings, so I distanced myself. Now, I’ve let you down and I am so sorry for ever letting you doubt what you mean to me. You deserve so much more than that.”

The sincerity in his beautiful, glistening eyes made your knees weaken, the wall around you slowly crumbling as he rounded the kitchen island, removing the barrier between you.

“I’m not here just because of the photos. I’m here because I care about you, more than you know. More than I’ve ever said, more than I’ve shown you, and I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.” Lewis admitted, standing in front of you and holding your gaze as though he had bared his soul to you.

The room felt quiet in the worst way, like everything had been said but nothing had really been settled. Your chest felt too tight, like your heart was caught between relief and devastation, as if it was trying to decide which way to break. He was saying everything you thought you wanted to hear, and somehow it wasn’t enough.

You had been falling for Lewis long before Shanghai. In every look, every late-night call, every moment he made you feel like you were the only person in the world. You told yourself it was just friendship, that he might never see you as anything more. Then, he took you halfway across the world, kissed you like you were made for him, held you like you were already his, and slept with you like the two of you had always been on this path. And after that, silence, distance, nothing but crumbs that left you starving for him.

Now here he was, saying everything you used to daydream about, standing in your apartment as if he hadn’t broken your heart by disappearing when you needed him most. Part of you couldn’t stop wondering if he’d just disappear again once the chaos faded. If he’d go back to his world, far away from you, and you’d be left holding the weight of this all over again. You didn’t know what was real, you didn’t know if he meant it, and you didn’t know how to forgive it.

Yet, even now with your heart torn open, you couldn’t stop wanting him.

“What are we even doing?” Your voice was shaky as you finally spoke through the silence. “Because we crossed a line, and I don’t know if we can come back from that. I don’t know if we could ever be friends again.”

The silence that followed wasn’t sharp, full of a deep ache and everything neither of you had dared to say. Then, Lewis lifted his hands between you with his palms open silently, offering them to you.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you glanced down, before hesitantly slipping your hands into his. His fingers closed gently around yours, as though he didn’t want to hold on too tightly. Slowly, he leaned closer until you could feel his breath, as the shield you’d been holding up in your mind gave way, not entirely, but enough to let the moment hold you.

“I don’t want to go back.” Lewis whispered with a small shake of his head. “I don’t want to pretend that nothing happened, like we didn’t feel what we felt.”

His grip tightened lightly on your hands, squeezing them as he continued.

“I don’t want to lose you, ever. I want to be with you and I want to do it right.” His voice was steady now, declaring his intentions clearly.

Your heart ached at his words, your stomach stirring with butterflies and your shoulders dropping in submission. Even now, part of you still wanted to believe him, to fall into his arms and say that you wanted this too, like nothing else mattered.

However, the lingering fear in you resisted. You’d spent weeks trying to make sense of his distance, your heart circling back to him no matter what you distracted yourself with. Now, with everything laid bare between you, it felt like whiplash, as if you were finally being handed the thing you'd quietly dreamed of, only now it hurt to reach for it.

Your mind returned to the moments you’d shared with him on your trip together, the softness in his eyes and his affectionate touches. The way he made you feel like there was no one but you. The way this all fizzled out when you were separated by time and distance. Could you really believe his words, or was that all they would be? Just words and declarations that would mean nothing when the distance came between you. What did being with you mean to him? Could it truly be any different than the pain you’d been hiding in your heart the past weeks?

“What does that even mean to you?” You mustered carefully through your breath. “Being with me? I can’t do this if it’s going to be the same as the past month.”

There was no deflection in Lewis’ expression now, no calm mask to hide behind. Just a man stripped down by his feelings.

“It means no more grey area. No more dancing around what we feel or pretending to be something we’re not,” he explained, looking into your eyes as if he were speaking to your heart. “It means making time for you, every single day. It means I show up properly when I say I will, whenever you need me. That I don’t ever leave you wondering, that I show you how much you mean to me every chance I get. That I choose you, always.”

He paused, swallowing hard as he brought your joined hands to his chest.

“I know I can’t undo what’s already happened, but I want to make it up to you. All of it, if you’ll have me.”

There was no performance in him now, it was just Lewis, standing there with what seemed like a flicker of desperation in his eyes, like he didn’t know if he still had a place in your life. In that stillness, you saw it: the ache of a man who had already made space for you in his heart and was terrified he might have ruined it. Maybe that was what made it harder.

“I’m not asking for an answer right now,” he added quietly. “Or even later. Not after how badly I’ve fucked this up. I just needed you to know how I really feel.”

The tight pull in your chest hurt more than ever. You hated how much you wanted to believe him, how badly you still wanted him, even after everything. But the war inside you was real too, and it wasn’t going to vanish just because the promises you’d dreamed about had finally arrived.

“I need time,” you replied, giving his hands a light squeeze. “I want to believe you, I really do…I just don’t know how to yet.”

He nodded with understanding, “Whatever you need, I’ll be here.”

Lewis stepped closer, lifted a hand to your face. His palm barely brushed your cheek, thumb smoothing just beneath your eye to brush away a stray tear that had slipped loose. You stayed quiet, leaning lightly into his touch.

His voice was soft when he finally spoke again. “You should try to get some rest.”

“Yeah.” You gave a small nod, feeling the exhaustion from all your emotions weighing on your shoulders suddenly.

The two of you remained in the kitchen, not wanting to move. There was no clock ticking, or distant city noise, just the low sound of the fridge and a silence that wrapped itself around you like a blanket too heavy to shake off. He kept his hand there for a moment longer, then slowly let it fall, but he didn’t step away.

“I can stay,” he added tentatively, as if he knew that you might say no. “Only if you want me to. I just don’t want you to be alone tonight.”

You hesitated before giving him another silent nod, not wanting him to leave, not wanting to be alone.

Neither of you said anything else, but a few moments later, after you'd quietly excused yourself and slipped into your room, you heard the faint rustle of him settling on the couch.

He was still here, and for now, that was enough.

Later, you lay in bed, but sleep didn’t come, not even close.

Your room was dim and still, the only light a soft glow from the moonlight outside slipping in through the edges of your curtains. You’d pulled the covers over yourself for comfort, but your body was tense beneath them, feeling too warm and restless. Your thoughts wouldn’t settle. Every time you closed your eyes, you heard Lewis’ voice again. You felt the warmth of his hands. You remembered the look in his eyes when he said he didn’t want to lose you.

It should’ve made things easier, simpler, but it didn’t.

You stared at the ceiling, willing yourself to sort through all the emotions that still rushed through you. The frustration, the disappointment, the lingering fear that everything he said would vanish the second he walked out your door again. Yet underneath it, was the quiet and persistent pull of having missed him so deeply it hurt.

He was just down the hall now, on your couch. A part of you couldn’t believe that he was actually there in your home, so close to you, yet so far.

You shifted onto your side, then your back again. Your hand found the empty space beside you where he could’ve been, but you knew if he had been, only a single moment of weakness would have led you to break.

I want to be with you. I don’t want to lose you.

He’d said it as if it had been sitting on his chest for a long time, waiting for the right moment to fall out.

For so long, being with him had felt like a dream you didn’t let yourself reach for. Then Shanghai happened, the trip, the kisses, the way it all felt like everything you had ever wanted, and afterwards, the silence had nearly undone you. Now, he was here, saying all the things you’d hoped and you didn’t know if you were more relieved or terrified.

What if he truly meant it? What if you wanted this too?

You turned onto your side, eyes fixed on the bedroom door. Your heart wouldn’t settle, knowing he was still out there in your living room. A small voice in your head wondered if he had secretly slipped out and left you behind, but you could feel his presence in the apartment.

Eventually, you pushed the blanket aside before you could talk yourself out of it and slid your feet to the floor, the ground cool beneath your toes. You didn’t bother with a robe or turning on the light. You just padded softly through the apartment, your heartbeat steady yet loud in your chest, as though it was tethered to him, coaxing you closer.

The living room was dark, save for the faint silver light sneaking through the windows. There he was, still there. Curled slightly on the couch, one arm tucked under his head, the other resting loosely across his middle. His chest rose and fell in the rhythm of sleep, peaceful, quiet.

You stood in the doorway, watching for a second too long. It didn’t feel real, not after everything. But there he was, he’d stayed.

You crept closer, unsure why you even needed to check. Maybe you just needed to see him, not on a screen, not in a message you re-read too many times, but here.

Lewis shifted when he felt your presence, floating in and out of sleep. His eyes fluttered open and his lips curled into a small smile. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

You hesitated. “I couldn’t sleep.”

You lowered yourself to the floor beside the couch, resting your chin on the cushion near his arm. His cologne lingered on the fabric, faintly familiar, and almost dizzying. Your fingers toyed with the hem of the blanket, grounding yourself. Your stomach knotted and turned, unsaid truths hanging from the tip of your tongue, waiting to slip out, and you let them.

His hand reached out tentatively. He didn’t touch your skin, he just left it there, close enough that the invitation was clear. You looked down at his hand for a moment, then slipped your fingers into his.

“I hate how complicated this feels now,” you murmured, running your thumb along the side of his finger, the warmth of his skin sending a mild shiver through you.

“Me too, but we don’t have to figure it all out tonight.” He gave the slightest nod, voice quiet.

He pushed himself up slightly, the blanket slipping off his shoulder as he lifted it just enough to offer you the space to crawl in and join him.

After a short few seconds of hesitation, you climbed carefully onto the narrow space on the couch. He opened his arms without a word, and you melted into them, tucking your head beneath his chin, your body curling into his like it had been waiting to do so for weeks. Despite the ache in your chest, every muscle in you relaxed in his arms.

“Take all the time you need, I’m not going anywhere,” he added.

This wasn’t how you had pictured your night. Not after the tears, argument, and weeks of uncertainty. However, his arms stayed around you, his hand occasionally brushing in slow, absent patterns over your shoulder like he couldn’t quite believe you were there either.

Maybe that was a start.

You closed your eyes, letting out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. His fingers stilled as you settled closer, your own hand lightly resting on the fabric of his shirt, just over his chest.

Neither of you spoke, but his hold on you didn’t waver. For the first time in a long time, you let yourself rest, knowing that whatever was coming would be dealt with tomorrow.

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep.

The last thing you remembered was the gentle rise and fall of Lewis’ chest, the scent of his cologne lingering on his shirt, and the comforting weight of his hand on your back. At some point, your body gave in, lulled to sleep in his arms.

When your eyes opened slowly, the living room was bathed in early light. Pale gold filtering through the curtains, casting a soft glow over your furniture. You blinked the blurriness from your vision, momentarily disoriented…until you felt the warmth beneath you shift slightly, and the memories of last night came flooding back.

Lewis was still there, you were curled against him, one leg draped over his, your arm tucked between you. His head rested against the back of the couch, tilted slightly, his braids loosened from his hair tie. His other arm still held you close, protective even in sleep.

You didn’t move, you didn’t want to, because even if things still felt complicated, even if your heart still felt sore in places you hadn’t known it could, this moment was real.

Your eyes drifted over his face, softened in rest sweetly, and your heart squeezed. All the frustration, the confusion, the pain hadn’t disappeared. It had shifted, as though the weight of it had moved, making space for what was to come.

You pulled back carefully, just enough to sit up. This made him stir slightly, his eyebrows creasing, before his brown eyes blinked open. They were still bleary and tired, but when they found you, they warmed instantly.

“Hi,” he rasped, his voice deep and rough with sleep.

“Hey,” you whispered back, brushing a hand through your hair.

He sat up straighter, rubbing at his face. He looked at you for a moment longer, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to smile or not. Then he glanced away, adjusting his braids back into his hair tie, a quiet exhale slipping through his lips.

The silence stretched for a short moment as you both sat on the sofa. You felt your stomach growl quietly, remembering you hadn’t eaten dinner the night before, and your appetite was catching up with you.

“You hungry?” you asked suddenly, rising to your feet. “I’ll make some breakfast.”

He blinked, surprised by the offer. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you replied, your voice gentler this time.

You turned toward the kitchen, trying to hide the way your heart fluttered stupidly at the sweet smile of appreciation he’d given you. Your mind was still a storm of questions, about what came next, about what this all meant, but for now, you pulled out the pan, reached for the flour, and let yourself move through the motions.

Lewis got up a few minutes later and joined you, helping without being asked. He passed you the spatula when you needed it, peeled a banana wordlessly, and found the plates from the right cupboard. It was quiet between you, a fragile silence like the calm after a thunderstorm, when everything was still soaked through but the sky had finally cleared.

You made him vegan pancakes, like you always used to joke you would. When you took a seat next to him, still wearing yesterday’s clothes and with sleep marks on your cheek, he looked at you like you had hung the moon and dotted the sky with stars yourself.

You took a bite, barely tasting the strawberry you were chewing, your nerves alight again in your body. You knew you couldn’t stay in this soft bubble forever. You’d have to talk soon, to decide.

Lewis complimented your cooking and ate slowly, savouring every bite as the two of you settled into quiet again. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but both of you knew what was coming next, and neither of you wanted to be the one to say it first.

You glanced up at him just as his phone buzzed on the kitchen island.

Lewis sighed, looked over the screen, and muttered, “Sorry, I have to take this.” He stood, already swiping to answer as he disappeared into the hallway.

Your heart sank into your stomach, dropping suddenly the second he picked up that phone. You stared at the space he’d left behind, the warmth of the moment slipping away.

Of course. You’d let yourself believe it might be different this time, yet here he was, being pulled back into that world again. You reached for your mug, trying not to let it show, but your hand faltered slightly.

Barely a minute later, his footsteps returned. You didn’t look up at first, cutting into your pancake meticulously as though maybe if you acted normal, the hollow feeling in your chest wouldn’t show. Maybe if you kept your head down, it wouldn’t hurt so much that he’d left you there while his life outside called.

“Sorry about that.” He returned to his seat beside you, reaching for a sip of his coffee.

“It’s okay.” Your voice was low, just above a whisper as your lips curled at the edges, hiding behind a small smile.

Lewis tilted his head towards you while he set his mug down, watching you push a slice of strawberry across your plate. He switched his phone to Do Not Disturb and set it on the counter, like it was the least important thing in the world.

“I told them I’m not coming,” he explained gently, noticing your quietness.

Your eyes lifted to face him, listening as he spoke.

He rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling slowly. “I had a shoot scheduled this afternoon, but I postponed everything for the rest of the week.”

You felt your heart skip with a tiny flicker of hope. “You did?”

“Yeah.” His voice was soft as his lips stretched into a smile. “Because I needed to be here with you. Nothing else matters if I don’t get this right.”

There was a part of you that didn’t expect him to say that, still waiting for disappointment. A part that thought maybe the phone call was the beginning of him slipping away again. That you’d find yourself once more standing on the edge of something that never fully became yours. Despite this, he was sitting across from you like nothing in the world could pull him away. Like you were the priority.

You blinked down at the table, trying to find your voice while Lewis’ hands rested on the edge of the counter openly. His body leaned in just slightly, elbows braced and, his eyes fixed on you with patience. He was waiting, holding space for you. Letting you come to him in your own time.

No phone, no rushing, and definitely no leaving. Just the two of you, there.

For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to really see it, to feel it. This wasn’t just pretty words or temporary affection. It wasn’t him checking in out of guilt or offering just enough to keep you close. It felt different, real, like he was actually here. He wanted to stay, regardless of his life outside of that moment.

Maybe this wasn’t another disappointment. Maybe this wasn’t another version of you hoping while he drifted further out of reach.

The ache in your chest didn’t disappear, but it softened just enough to let a sliver of hope in. The feeling you’d been trying to ignore because it felt safer to expect disappointment than to hope for something lasting.

The quiet kind of hope that didn’t rush in all at once but arrived slowly, gently, as if it were asking permission. Maybe it was worth giving this a chance.

But it couldn’t be like before. Not if it meant twisting yourself into someone smaller, someone more convenient. If this was going to be something, it had to be on your terms. It had to be mutual, with boundaries, balance, and a lot of care. With both of you in it fully, figuring it out side by side. All in.

You placed your utensils onto your plate carefully and drew in a breath, steadying yourself. Your pulse raced, thrumming in your ears while your stomach fluttered with butterflies. This was it.

“Lewis?” you began, scratching a nail lightly against the counter to distract yourself from the nervousness that coursed through your veins.

He looked up immediately, eyes soft and open as he gave you his full attention, the same way that always gave you butterflies.

“Let’s do it,” you said finally, breathless from the weight of your words.

Lewis’ posture shifted subtly, the tension in his shoulders loosening as if hope had started to slip in through the cracks. He didn’t interrupt or rush you though, only watched as you turned towards him.

“I want to try…us,” you spoke again, firmer this time, the words anchoring inside you. It almost felt as though you were dreaming as you continued. “But there’s a few things we need to agree on first for this to work.”

Lewis nodded, his eyes searching yours as if he couldn’t believe it either. “Anything.”

“I know what your life is like, but we need to be in this together. I need consistency,” you started. “I need to feel like we’re both all in, not like I’m chasing after you. No disappearing on me when you’re away.”

He gave you another nod, listening intently while you continued.

“Second, we always plan when we’ll see each other next. I hate uncertainty. It makes the distance more bearable if I know when I get to see you next.” Your voice trembled lightly as you finished. “And third, we keep things private. At first, at least, until we’re both ready. What happened with those photos…it felt like we lost control before we ever had a chance to figure things out between us. I can’t do that again, not without knowing we’re on the same page.”

His expression softened at that, his eyebrows pulling together with both guilt and understanding tangled into one. “Of course, I agree with all of it. We can take our time, we’ll figure this out together.”

This time, you believed him. There was no hesitation in his voice, just certainty that he wasn’t just agreeing for your sake, but because he meant every word too.

He held your gaze for a moment longer, then pushed back slightly on his seat. The metal legs scraped lightly against the floor as he shifted, knees parting just enough to make space in front of him.

“Come here,” he whispered, his hands lifting, and arms opening in a quiet invitation.

You rose carefully, stepping between his legs and resting your hands on his broad shoulders. His own hands slid to your waist, holding you there like you were the only thing grounding him in the moment.

“I don’t want to lose you, Lewis.” You sighed, tracing your fingers along the neckline of his shirt. “We have to make this work.”

“We will, I promise,” he replied with confidence, his tone reassuring. “I don’t want to lose you either, ever.”

Your heart stuttered again as he repeated his words from the night before. It was everything you’d always wanted to hear, and he said it with so much sincerity swimming in his warm brown eyes. He would make room for you in his world and never ask you to shrink yourself to fit into it. You would work through it all together.

“So…” he started softly, sounding almost nervous, even now. His thumbs rubbed soft circles at your waist. “You’ll be mine?”

Your breath caught in your throat, a mild sting at your eyes while your belly filled with rushing butterflies. You didn’t hesitate though. You reached up, brushing your fingers along the smooth skin of his cheek before cupping his face with both hands. He leaned into your touch instantly, his long eyelashes fluttering shut, like you were the first thing that had calmed him in weeks.

“All yours,” you smiled, brushing your nose with his gently.

His eyes opened again, crinkling at the edges as his mouth pulled into a grin.

“Are you mine too?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

His arms wrapped a little tighter around you, pulling you in until your foreheads touched. “Always.”

Your lips met a second later, moving together while you both struggled to contain your smiles. You melted into the kiss, your shoulders relaxing in a sensation of relief, while your heart swelled with hope, and pure joy. Lewis held you close as your arms twined around his neck, breathing each other in as your mouths stayed connected, making up for every kiss you’d missed the past month.

“We’re really doing this,” you murmured as though the words surprised even you, when you eventually pulled back.

His breath brushed over your lips when he responded, his eyes sparkling with excitement and almost disbelief that this was your reality now. “We are.”

The two of you remained in the kitchen, sharing soft giggles and peppering kisses between breaths. It felt like home again.

You stayed wrapped in each other for a while, as if neither of you could believe you were finally here. Truly together this time. When you finally pulled apart, it didn’t feel like you had run out of time. It was a comfort, like you both knew there’d be more moments like this, and you didn’t have to hold onto it so tightly anymore with that ache in your chest.

Eventually, the real world crept in around the edges of your bubble. The smell of cold pancakes and forgotten mugs of coffee on the counter. Neither of you was ready to move just yet, but you did. Together.

The quiet clatter of plates and cutlery was the only sound between you as you cleared the kitchen together, brushing shoulders and glancing over at each other when you thought the other wasn’t looking. The air still held the weight of everything that had happened in the last 24 hours, but it had softened now, a warm excitement settling in its place.

You’d agreed to take your time and rebuild this the right way, but the way Lewis kept looking at you, his big hands full of dishes, braids tied back, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to reveal his muscular arms, made it all too tempting.

You bit back a smile as you rinsed the last plate, only for him to bump your hip gently with his. Not hard enough to startle you, just to remind you he was still there with his eyes locked on you.

“You’re staring.” You felt a flush spread across your cheeks, not meeting his eyes.

“Can’t help it,” he chuckled as he dried his hands off, handing you the towel once you were done rinsing.

When you looked up, you felt the air around you shift, a slow unfurling in your chest. A familiar flicker danced between you, electric and almost dizzying. You wiped your hands dry and placed the towel back on the counter, suddenly feeling somewhat shy under his gaze.

“Just wondering how I got so lucky,” he added, quieter now.

He reached for you, one hand curling around your waist, fingers splaying like he needed to feel you solid beneath his palm, to know this wasn’t just some dream he’d wake up from.

You could feel the warmth of him in every inch of space you weren’t touching, and the electric current coursing through your veins in the parts you were. You ran your hand up his forearm and over his flexed bicep, looping your arms around his neck. That small space between your lips and his that felt impossibly far, and you wanted nothing more than to close it.

Lewis dipped his head slowly, his lips brushing yours carefully as though you might disappear, and you replied without hesitation. Your knees weakened at the taste of him and your head spun when he drew your body to his. You clutched at the neck of his shirt, needing the anchor, needing him, and he exhaled against your mouth in relief, as though he’d been holding his breath all day.

His addictive lips kissed you deeper this time, like the floodgates had opened and neither of you knew how to stop. Your hands moved to his shoulders, fingers curling into the muscle there as if you still couldn’t quite believe he was real.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he breathed, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then back to your lips. “Every day, every night. You were on my mind, every second.”

You nodded against him, eyes closed and your breath shaky. “Me too, you have no idea.”

His thumbs stroked lightly at your side as he kissed you again, and again, each one felt like reassurance, as though he was trying to rebuild what had broken with his presence.

Your heart swelled, your eyes burning suddenly with emotion you hadn’t expected. “I hated being away from you, felt like I lost you,” your voice trembled on your lips.

He pressed his forehead to yours again, holding your waist like he didn’t want to let go. “You could never lose me, sweetheart.”

You touched your lips to his in response. There were no words strong enough for the relief rushing through you, no language deep enough to explain the way it felt to have him here again, holding you as though you were the most precious thing in the world, like someone he never wanted to risk losing again.

His tongue slid against yours, tasting your mouth, and you didn’t even realise your feet had left the ground until you were on the kitchen island, his hands firm around your hips, his body between your legs, fitting against you like it was the only place he wanted to be.

Your legs circled around his waist, pulling him closer, needing to feel him. His hands skimmed your thighs as though he still couldn’t believe you were letting him touch you like this again. You tilted your head back slightly when his mouth found your neck, his warm breath trickling your skin as he whispered your name.

As you tugged at the fabric of his shirt breathlessly, he broke away just long enough to let you pull it over his head and toss it onto the floor. The light streaming through the kitchen windows reflected the pearls around his neck, and caught the lines of his fit torso, the slope of his shoulders, the glow of his bronze, tattooed skin, the soft curve of his defined lips when he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

“Still can’t believe you’re mine.” He spoke through his breath, his mouth capturing yours again while his thumbs traced the outline of the waistband on your trackpants.

“And you’re mine.” You giggled softly, lifting your hips to allow Lewis to slide the pants down your legs, as heat stirred in your stomach.

Your bare skin touched back down on the cold surface of the island while his hands made their way up your thighs. His fingers traced the curve of your underwear, before slipping beneath the fabric to run along your soaked core.

“So wet for me already, baby,” he groaned against your lips, coating his fingertips in your wetness as he relished the feeling of your sensitive parts.

Your breath grew shaky, grasping onto the muscle of his shoulder and leaning back to allow him better access while steadying yourself with your free hand. He built you up slowly, almost teasingly, while his kisses trailed down your jaw to your neck and collarbone. Carefully, he slid a finger into you, followed by a second while his thumb continued to work at your clit, drawing a gasp from your lips.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” Lewis asked, enjoying watching you tremble deliciously at his mercy.

All you could do was dig your nails into his shoulder, your eyes falling shut as ecstacy coursed through your body, edging close to your peak. It wasn’t long before you began to tighten around his fingers, and he suddenly removed his hand from you, shocking you from your daze and drawing a whimper from your lips. You watched him in confusion as he quickly removed your underwear, pushed your legs further apart and lifted your feet over his shoulders.

His hot tongue dipped into your folds, licking and swirling at your clit in tantalising motions that worked you back up. Fingers still wet from earlier slipped back into you while his other hand gripped your thigh. You managed to lean back further, holding yourself up against the cold counter while he lapped at your core hungrily, your mind melting into a complete blur at his precise movements.

A hazed whisper of his name left you as your head fell back lightly, your hips grinding onto his mouth and nose. Your toes curled and your stomach tightened, you were so close now.

“Eyes on me, beautiful,” he demands against your clit, sucking gently while his tongue flicks. “You taste so fucking good.”

You obeyed, meeting his sparkling eyes with your face flushed as he watched you with hunger, devouring you until you came undone. You shuddered with pleasure crashing over you, sending you over your peak as a breathy moan left your lips. Lewis continued his movements, helping you ride out your high onto his tongue and holding you close to push your high further when the sensitivity that followed overwhelmed you, your body jerking away involuntarily.

Once you had worked your way down, he removed himself slowly, as if he didn’t want to separate from your core if it weren’t for the ache in his pants. His lips glistened with your wetness coated over his chin and beard, his proud smirk making your stomach flutter. He licked the remainder off his fingertips as you chewed your lower lip, your frantic breaths slowing.

Sitting back up, you reached for his shoulders and pressed your mouth to his in a wet kiss, tasting yourself on him while he tugged you close to the edge of the counter, his warm hands gripping your ass. He lifted you off and moved towards your sofa, taking a seat while you straddled him. You let him undress you further, pulling your top off to reveal your bare torso and running his palms down your back.

Gently, he cupped a breast and flicked his thumb over your nipple, before taking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue over the sensitive nub. The heat between your legs only grew hotter as you felt his hardness through his pants beneath you, and you wanted nothing more than to have him inside you.

“Please, Lewis.” You pulled at the waistband of his pants desperately, breathless under his touch.

Lewis chuckled lightly, his voice low as he helped you slip them off. “Greedy girl.”

You gave him a look and grabbed his jaw, lifting your hips as he positioned himself at your slit. A gasp left you both in unison once you sunk down onto his length until he bottomed out inside you, relief and excitement rippling through your bodies. Slowly, you began your movements, grinding against him at first, before raising your hips and dropping down as you built a rhythm.

He grasped your ass while you rode him, pressing his forehead to yours as his breathing grew ragged. The low groans from his throat only encouraged you further as you slammed back down on him over and over. He was somehow even more beautiful when you were the one making him feel good. The way his brown eyes glazed over in pleasure, his eyebrows knitted together, and his luscious lips fell open, made your heart race as you pushed further.

The friction of your clit against his pelvis sent waves of hot tension pooling in your belly, so you bounced harder and gripped the fabric of the sofa behind him, while your other hand held onto his shoulder. Your lips brushed together, his breath on your skin as you moaned into each other’s mouths over the wet sound of your bodies coming together.

“Baby,” he hissed roughly, his head falling back against the cushion and his face contorting in bliss. “Slow down…you’re gonna make…”

Lewis’ voice was music to your ears as you felt yourself clamp down on him, your clit pulsing and bliss rushing through your veins, leaving only a cry to rip from you. Before you could finish riding out your high yourself, you found yourself laying against the soft cushion of your sofa, under him as he took back his control. He pressed his thumb to your clit and snapped his hips into yours, heightening your pleasure as you ground back against him and clutched the fabric to your side.

Soon after, he lifted your legs higher in order to push deeper into you and tangled your fingers together with his. You squeezed his hand and tilted your chin up to kiss him again, aching to be closer.

“I missed you so much, Lew,” you breathed, all the emotions of the day flooding you as you poured your adoration into his lips.

“I missed you more, baby, I missed you so much,” he whispered, the words almost broken with sincerity, caressing your hair with his free hand. “I swear, I’ll never hurt you again.”

His eyes searched yours as he spoke, full of care, affection, and commitment, even with his bare body pressed to yours. This time, you believed him. You trusted him.

Your fingers found his bearded chin, drawing him close and brushing your lips to his while he slowed his rocking to deep, languid movements. His hard length stroked inside you, engulfed by your slick core as he built you both up. You moved together like two halves remembering how to be whole again. It wasn’t long before you felt him throb inside you, and you both gasped in bliss, letting yourselves release with shaky moans.

After a moment, you both eased back onto the couch, still wrapped around each other, the quiet afterglow settling like a soft blanket. Lewis’ hands moved slowly along your spine, drinking you in silently. All that existed in your bubble now was the steady rhythm of your heartbeats in sync, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin, and the sweet way your lips met again.

You traced your fingertips along the ink of the tattoo on his collarbone, your voice low and shy as you murmured, “You know…I’ve felt something for you for a while now too.”

A mischievous glint flickered in his eyes as he grinned.

“Really?” he teased, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Since when?”

A small smile stretched across your face, your cheeks warm when the memories bloomed in your mind.

“Hmm…honestly,” You began, pursing your lips as you thought it over. “Maybe that dinner in Austin. When we talked for hours, you told me about that space documentary you loved. Then you said you were planning to do astronaut training, which is just insane, by the way. But I’d never seen you like that before, that look in your eyes. I think that’s when it really hit me.”

Lewis’ gaze softened, his mouth curling as he recalled the memory. “I remember. You were so sweet, I didn’t want that night to end. I always loved talking to you.”

His fingers found your hair, threading through the strands as he tugged you just a little closer.

“Guess we’ve both been holding out on each other for too long.”

“Too long, yeah.” You laughed softly against his lips.

No more words were needed. The quiet between you filled with a calming sense of hope and relief, as those fading lines between what the two of you had been, and what you were now finally gave way.

And it was just the beginning…

Silverstone came soon after that.

The car had gone quiet as the gates of the paddock loomed ahead, only the low purr of the engine and the tense thrum of anticipation in the air. You sat to Lewis’ side, toying with the chain of your bag and watching through tinted windows as crowds of staff, guests, and media personnel entered the paddock.

Lewis was calm as always, a soft smile across his lips when you arrived at the VIP parking area. One hand rested on the wheel, the other was laced with yours, your fingers threaded together across the console loosely. Roscoe was seated in the back, panting away in excitement to step out of the car.

It had been months since the two of you had made the decision to be together. Life didn’t slow down by any means; Lewis’ race season continued with all the usual travel and pressure, while you found yourself immersed in your own projects. Despite the chaos, you’d spent more time together than ever, small moments of quiet between race weekends, following him to a few races discreetly, small trips and overnight stays that strengthened your bond as a couple.

You kept choosing each other, in the big things as well as the little. It wasn’t always easy though. There were long flights, late nights, and stretches of time apart, but what mattered most was that he always found his way back to you. No unfulfilled promises, but with his presence. In the way he held you when you couldn’t sleep, or how he never let a day go by without reminding you in any way he could, that you meant the world to him.

Lewis chose you, no matter how busy his world got. And every time he did, it made you fall in love with him all over again.

Now, you were both ready to take the next step. You’d kept your relationship as private as possible, letting it grow and be yours only, but today was the day you stopped hiding. Now, it was time.

Lewis glanced over, stroking his thumb over yours gently. “Ready?”

Your fingers curled tighter around the chain of your bag, your heart thudding loud enough to drown out the noise outside. He noticed your hesitation.

“I can get one of the staff to take you in through the back if you’re not feeling it,” he offered, leaning closer to you, “No pressure, baby.”

His tone wasn’t just kind, it was understanding. He knew exactly how much this meant, how much you were giving him by even being here.

You turned to him, the butterflies in your chest fluttering hard against your ribs. He would never rush you or try to convince you into this. He was giving you an out, and trusting you to make your own choice.

You swallowed with a small nod, squeezing his hand. “No, I want to.”

Relief flickered across his face subtly. He pressed a kiss to your temple, then to your hand, before stepping out of the car. By the time he rounded to your side and opened your door, your palms had gone slightly clammy. Still, you climbed out slowly, blinking against the grey brightness of the British summer light. Lewis didn’t hesitate, lifting Roscoe out, then handing his keys to his assistant with a quiet word, and barely glancing back as the car was whisked away.

Then, you were walking in, together.

The crowd outside the paddock buzzed, your presence drawing attention even before you reached the gates. Scanning your passes, you both crossed the threshold into the Paddock and reconnected. You weren’t holding hands yet, but you walked closely with Roscoe on the other side of Lewis, his tail wagging away as you entered.

You were hyper-aware of everything: the upcoming wall of photographers and media, the buzz of cameras warming up, the click of shutters in rapid fire, and flashes popping as photos were snapped.

The outfit you’d carefully chosen after hours of indecision felt suddenly too noticeable. It was sleek, understated and perfectly tailored to balance the line between elegance and comfort for you. Lewis had helped you choose it, insisting it looked perfect on you. You trusted his eye, especially since he understood exactly what kind of scrutiny came with standing at his side.

As the two of you crossed into the heart of the Paddock, a pack of media swept past on the left, cameras already raised. As the wave of attention swelled, your breath caught and your spine stiffened instinctively. This was it, everyone around the world would know that you were the one who held Lewis’ heart. It was no longer just pictures of stolen, private moments in an airport, it was the two of you stepping into the light proudly, together. That was all it took.

Without a word, Lewis’ hand found yours. He didn’t look at you or make a show of it. Just held on, thumb brushing over your knuckles like a quiet I’m here.

You exhaled through your nose slowly, holding a small smile as you made your way towards the Ferrari motorhome. There were many calls of Lewis’ name around the Paddock, but he never flinched, offering a quick wave or nod when he caught the direction they were coming from.

At the motorhome, the team greeted him with nods and handshakes, a few heads turning toward you and Roscoe, who was enjoying himself being showered in scratches and pats all around. You greeted the team you’d become familiar with, before spotting Lewis’ parents and sharing hugs as you settled in. Lewis soon changed into his race suit once briefings had been completed and it was nearly time to get on the track.

The garage buzzed with motion and noise, tyre covers shifting, the clang of metal tools, voices calling over radios. The scent of asphalt and scorched rubber was one that had grown to feel almost like home.

Lewis emerged in his Ferrari race suit, helmet tucked under one arm. His hair was tied back as usual, revealing his handsome face, his jaw tight, brows drawn in the kind of laser-sharp concentration he wore before every race.

Yet, the moment his eyes found you again in the corner of the garage, everything about him softened. He crossed the garage without hesitation, weaving through engineers and mechanics as if nothing else in the world existed. When he stopped in front of you, his lips stretched into a faint smile.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice cutting through the chaos like it was only meant for you. “You okay?”

You nodded, but your throat was tight, too full of feeling. You’d never seen him look more like himself and yet so entirely in his element. Calm, sure, and brilliant as always, but now, yours.

“I should be asking you that, it’s your home race,” you shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper.

Silverstone was his home race. The one he’d grown up dreaming about, watching from behind barriers long before he'd ever stepped onto the grid himself. The race he’d won nine times already, and was surely on his way to a tenth after qualifying P2.

“You nervous?” you asked softly.

He paused for half a breath, then took a small step closer, close enough for his chest to brush yours, and you could feel the warmth coming off his skin, even through layers of fabric.

A faint breath left him, half a laugh, half an exhale. “Yeah, it just…hits different today.”

“Because it’s home?”

“Because it’s been a rough season, seems like so much keeps going wrong. But I'm hopeful for this one,” he admitted quietly. “And because now you’re here, just makes me want it more.”

You felt your heart ache with a small tug at his honesty and the weight of it all sitting just beneath the surface.

“I believe in you, Lewis. You’ve won this race nine times before, you can absolutely do it again.” You ran your hand over his chest, his brown eyes lighting up at your confidence in him.

Lewis touched a finger under your chin, his thumb resting beneath your lips as he leaned in, brushing his over yours. “That’s all I need.”

Your fingers held onto the side of his suit lightly, grounding yourself as the rush of background noise faded around you. You wanted to say it, right then. The words were right there, lingering at the tip of your tongue, waiting to spill out. I love you. It caught in your throat, too heavy with meaning to just throw into the noise right now. You wanted it to land at the right time, to mean everything.

Instead, you placed another kiss on his lips. “Good luck, baby.”

He pulled away, warmth in his eyes, the corner of his mouth lifting in that way that always made you feel like he was letting you in on a secret. Placing a kiss on your forehead, he slowly drifted back as he was called over.

And then he turned, stepped toward the car, and disappeared into the heartbeat of the race.

The race was tense, with Lewis overtaking to lead the race throughout the second half. The final few laps blurred into a rush of sound and colour, your breath catching with every corner, every sector time, your heart in your throat even as the team around you shouted and cheered, willing Lewis across the line first. You thumbed the flower on your bracelet as the anxiety tensed through you.

Then, the explosion of noise. Lewis crossed first. Lewis won.

The garage burst into excitement, engines roaring outside, crew jumping into each other’s arms, radios crackling with congratulations. The team yelled, hugged, threw headsets in the air. The kind of joy that only came with victory, and this one had meant everything. He hadn’t won all season, until now. At his home race.

His voice over the radio made your heart melt, the gratitude and exhilaration as he thanked the team and his supporters for believing in him. Tears had escaped down your cheeks while you watched him on the many screens, waving the Union Jack flag as he pulled in.

You barely registered your own hands shaking until someone touched your arm, gentle yet urgent.

A soft voice beside you called your name, and you turned to see Lewis’ mother Carmen. Her eyes glistened with tears, her cheeks flushed from joy. She took your hand and led you quickly through the chaos and out into the sunlight.

The paddock heat hit you like a wave. The sound of the crowd, the thunder of music and announcements overhead, the crackle of static from race control, it all blurred around you. You could barely breathe through the happiness in your chest.

Below the podium, you saw the sea of red: the Ferrari crew lined along the barrier, arms raised, waiting for their driver.

You barely had time to find your spot as Lewis completed his post race interviews and headed to cool down, before making his way over to your crowd behind the barrier. He was beaming, that bright, boyish, stunned kind of smile that only came from something he thought he might never get back.

He ran past the cameras, past the media, past the security still trying to catch up. He sprinted straight for the team again as he had upon securing his win, laughing and shouting, pulling his engineers and mechanics into wild hugs while others patted him on the back

Then came his parents.

Anthony caught him first, wrapping him into a firm, almost bone-crushing hug, murmuring words you couldn’t hear over the roar or excitement into his ear as he nodded. Carmen threw her arms around him next, kissing his cheeks through tears, smoothing his braided hair as though he was still her boy.

Lewis’ eyes searched for you, and you didn’t move, because the second he saw you, standing just behind the barrier, eyes filled with tears and sunlight, he moved straight to you. His face was flushed, his beautiful eyes shining with more than victory.

When he reached you, he pulled you into him immediately. You didn’t even realise you were crying until his hands cradled the back of your head, dipping his head forward. He was breathless, wild with joy, and as the crowd around you erupted into further celebration, he kissed you. Deep and fast, full of adrenaline, his fingers curling into your hair like he needed to hold onto something solid.

The world around you blurred and you heard the cacophony of camera shutters flood your ears, everyone capturing the moment suddenly.

When he pulled back, his forehead pressed to yours briefly, and his voice cracked with emotion.

“I love you.”

The words hit you like a tidal wave, your heart skipping a beat as it raced behind your ribs. You didn’t have time to fully take it in, not with the adrenaline still thundering through your veins, the noise around you, and the cameras flashing. They sank straight through your chest anyway, sharp and soft all at once. Your lips parted, your breath catching, because you felt it too. You’d been feeling it, carrying it around with you, hanging from your tongue and aching to be let out.

You wanted to say it back, but before the words could leave your mouth, he was pulled away, engulfed by a rush of red and celebration, the team wrapping him in hugs and shouts. You watched him leave, dazed as your fingertips still tingled from where he’d touched you, your mouth still parted with the words you hadn’t been able to give him yet.

He didn’t look back for a response, just saying it had been enough for him.

But for you, the moment hung in the air, because you knew, without question, the very next time you saw him, you were going to say it. You had to.

Before you knew it, there he was again.

Lewis was announced as the winner, and he stepped onto the top step of the podium, the number one painted bold beneath his feet, the crowd’s cheers swelling as he stood tall against the backdrop of flags and ceremony. The anthem hadn’t started just yet, that sacred pause before the world erupted in celebration. In that moment, before a trophy was lifted or champagne was sprayed, his eyes searched the sea of faces in front of him.

His eyes swept across the crowd, taking it in like he always did, until they found you.

Then, everything shifted.

His shoulders eased, his smile softened, love blooming behind his eyes. It wasn’t the usual, dazzling grin he wore for the world or the victory smile.

This one was yours.

He winked down at you and your heart squeezed in your chest, so tight it almost hurt. The tears that had been uncontrollably escaping since the moment he crossed the line welled again. You reached up instinctively, fingers brushing beneath your eyes, trying to ground yourself in the moment.

You blew him a kiss, lips trembling but sure, and mouthed the words that had been lingering on your tongue all day.

“I love you.”

They were three silent words across a sea of celebration, but when they reached him, you saw the way they landed. Somehow, his smile grew even further and you were sure he might pop from all the excitement, especially knowing that the woman he loved, loved him too.

Soon after, champagne burst into the air around him, painting the podium in silver and light. Music blared as he celebrated with everyone, spraying his champagne down into the crowd as you shielded yourself. You caught his eyes again, soaked with celebration.

In the middle of all of it, the history, the headlines, the high of another win, it was still just the two of you.

And this time, you weren’t hiding.

No more grey areas.

No more waiting.

Just you and him.

Out in the light, at last.

Together.

Taglist: @sltwins @ernegren @sher-ni @skzvibes-blog @rageshots @esw1012🤍🤍

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fic #fading lines #lewis x reader #lewis x you #lh44 x reader #formula 1 #lewis hamilton imagine #lh44 imagine #f1 #fluff #lewis hamilton fanfic #lh44 #angst

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dismalflo · 13 hours ago

Text

middle of nowhere

Sirius Black x fem!reader ✩ 3.7k words

summary: It’s summer camp - what should be a fun job quickly goes sideways thanks to Sirius. You both clash and he seems to delight in pushing your buttons. He’s wildly irritating… but maybe he’s not as unbearable as you think.

for this request here.

cw: Summer camp au, frenemies to lovers, reader and sirius are camp counselors, sirius is maybe a bit mean without meaning to be

an: this is the first part of a little series!! i'm not sure how i feel about this first part but i am excited for the next next chapter

It’s unbearably hot.

The kind of heat that doesn’t just sit on your skin – it sinks in. Heavy and unmoving. You lie back in the dry grass near the lake, limbs stretched and still, hoping you might trick your body into forgetting it’s slowly melting. The sun is relentless, high and hard in the sky, its light washing the world out into too much brightness.

There are layers of sun cream caked onto your skin. The camp must’ve gone through a million bottles by now, and you’re fairly certain at least half of that is slathered across your arms and legs alone.

Distant sounds rise and fall: a burst of laughter, the hollow thunk of a ball hitting something solid, the sharp cry of someone getting hurt and not bothering to hide it. But it’s all muted here, like the heat has its own gravity, pulling everything down to a hush. You and Maddison occupy a pocket of stillness just shy of the treeline, the lake breathing slow and quiet in front of you.

She’s sitting cross-legged beside you, small hands worrying at a blade of grass. A sweet kid, if a little shy. She’s figured you out well, how you won’t ask questions she’s not ready to answer, won’t speak into silence just to fill it. You make space for her because you remember what it’s like when the world feels too big, too noisy, too much.

When she finally speaks, it’s soft enough you almost miss it.

“Do you know any tricks?”

You shift your head on your arm, turning slightly toward her. “Tricks?”

“Yeah, like…” She shrugs one shoulder, eyes still on the lake. “Bird calls or something. Everyone else knows stuff. Cool stuff. I don’t really.”

There’s something folded inside her voice. Not quite sadness. Not quite jealousy. Just the ache of wanting to belong. The other kids are kind enough, mostly, but it’s still hard to fit in.

You scan the shoreline absently. “You could... whistle with grass.”

She turns to you, puzzled. “What?”

“It’s a thing. You hold it between your thumbs and blow. Here.”

You pluck one from the ground – a wide, flat strip – and hold it up between your fingers. She leans in, eyes narrowed with interest.

You sit up just enough to grab a wide blade from the ground. She watches, close and quiet. You position the grass between your hands, thumbs together, just like someone once showed you when you were her age – on some long-forgotten summer afternoon.

The whistle that comes out is sharp and sudden, cutting through the thick air like something alive. Maddison jumps, startled, then bursts into laughter.

“That was so loud!”

You grin, a little surprised yourself. “Try it.”

You hand her a few blades to choose from. Her fingers are unsure, fumbling at first, but you guide her gently, thumbs over thumbs, until she blows a breathy whisper of a sound that almost qualifies as a whistle.

Her whole face lights up.

“I did it,” she breathes.

“Told you.”

She tries again, this time with more confidence – the whistle sharper, cleaner. When she clutches the grass like it’s a talisman, you don’t say anything.

Then, like a storm rolling in over calm water, the noise starts.

The unmistakable thunder of running feet and laughter rolls in from over the hill, followed by a voice you’ve learned to dread with Pavlovian precision.

Sirius Black.

He appears at the top of the rise, all grass-stained knees and wind-blown hair. A sleeveless shirt clings to his back, sunglasses perched too perfectly on his face. Somehow, he still looks like he belongs in a film. You’ve stopped trying to figure out how he does that.

Two rounders bats are slung over his shoulders like swords.

“All right!” he calls out, loud enough to startle nearby birds. “We’re playing rounders! I don’t want to hear any whining or excuses–especially from you, Danny.”

Danny flips him off without missing a beat. Sirius laughs like it's the best thing he’s seen all day.

Maddison sits up straighter, attention caught by the commotion. You can see the wheels turning in her head, curious, maybe even a little tempted. And of course, Sirius spots her. Spots you. His aim has always been infuriatingly accurate.

He heads over, crouching beside Maddison without hesitation. “Hey, Mads,” he says easily. “We’re forming teams. You in?”

She hesitates. Her eyes flick to you.

You nod. “Go on.”

That’s all she needs. She bolts toward the hill, the grass blade still clutched in her fist.

Sirius straightens, sunglasses slipping down just enough to reveal a single raised eyebrow and a smug, maddening smile.

Like: See? Even your shadow likes me better.

You don’t blink. “Do you want a trophy or something?”

He steps into your space before speaking. “No need. Their unconditional admiration is reward enough.”

You exhale through your nose. “Congrats, Black. You’re real popular with twelve-year-olds.”

“Don’t be bitter, sunshine,” he says, his tone taunting. “You coming?”

“I’d rather not.”

He shrugs, all breezy nonchalance. “Suit yourself.”

Then he spins on his heel and heads back down towards the lake.

You watch them go. Maddison’s practically skipping. And Sirius is soaking it all up. He’s good with kids, you’ll give him that. Too good. Like it comes wired into his bones.

Still, there's a sting that comes with him.

Maybe it’s because this isn’t the first time he’s strutted over, stolen your moment, and somehow come out looking like the hero. Or maybe it’s because every time you start to think, maybe he’s not so bad, he opens his mouth and ruins it.

It’s not just the noise, or the attention he draws like gravity. It’s that he’s always on, always pushing buttons. And for whatever reason, he’s made you one of his favourites to prod.

You’ve lost count of how many times he’s jokingly called you stuck-up. His tone is always light and teasing, like it’s some inside joke you’re both in on. But it grates. Because sure, maybe you are quieter. More reserved. But that doesn’t make you cold. Or boring. Or stuck-up.

He doesn’t mean anything by it, you’re almost certain. But intent doesn’t make it feel any nicer. Not when you’ve spent years trying to unlearn the idea that being composed makes you less fun, less wanted.

So no, you’re not friends. You clash. Where you’re careful, he’s reckless. Where you build slowly, he dives in headfirst. And maybe the worst part is – beneath all of it – you can tell he’s not trying to make you feel small. He probably thinks it’s all in good fun.

Which just makes you want to scream into a pillow.

So you sit there, sticky with heat and sun cream and something else harder to name, watching him jog back down toward the others, the back of his neck catching sunlight like a spotlight.

You don't hate him.

But you’re not ready to like him, either.

The sun’s moved again, dipping just enough to soften the shadows, though the heat still clings on. A dragonfly zigzags past your knee, iridescent wings catching in the light. You should close your eyes, let the dull hum of distant activity wash over you. Let yourself drift.

But then–

“Y/N taught me how to whistle with grass!” Maddison’s voice cuts through the air, high and proud.

You hear the answering pause before the response. Then, Sirius’s voice joins hers. Warm, amused, genuine.

“No way. That’s a classic. Bet you’ll be better than me by Friday.”

She giggles, the sound light and effortless, and something twists under your ribs.

Sirius proving once again that he’s not all bad. That he sees people and gives them what they need.

You’re still not sure if that makes it better or worse.

You stand slowly, brushing grass from the backs of your legs, and try to shake off the haze of it all, Sirius’s voice still echoing in your ears, Maddison’s laughter threaded through it like a melody trapped in your head.

But there are things to be done. You check your watch. Barely an hour until dinner.

The next stretch of time passes in a blur of small tasks and routine. You help corral the younger campers for swim checks, lend a hand when someone’s flip-flop snaps and they dissolve into tears, untangle a poor girl's hair from her bobble. You refill water jugs, smile through sunburn complaints, and offer reminders about bug spray that everyone promptly ignores. Somewhere in there, a football glances off your shin. You’re still not sure if it was on purpose.

There’s comfort in the rhythm of it all.

By the time the bell rings for dinner, the sun has begun its slow descent behind the treetops, painting the sky in streaks of gold and rose. Campers begin to shuffle toward the dining hall in messy lines and noisy clusters, the din of chatter rising with each step.

You trail behind them, slowly with heavy legs. Sweat’s dried sticky on your neck, and the back of your shirt is clinging in places that make you want to peel off your skin. The dining hall looms ahead, buzzing with early chaos: trays clattering, laughter overlapping in a dozen directions, someone already shouting about pudding.

You find a seat near the end of the staff table. It’s quieter there. Not quiet, but manageable. Far enough from the worst of the flying cutlery and spontaneous food fights.

You’re halfway through dabbing marinara sauce off your schedule sheets – why you brought them in here, you’re not even sure – when the bench beside you groans under new weight.

You don’t need to look up to know who it is.

The bench dips under his weight with an unnecessary flop, followed by the rattle of his tray hitting the table. A sigh, too loud to be sincere, leaves his mouth as he drapes himself into the seat beside you. You can feel him watching the side of your face.

You keep your eyes on the marinara-stained schedule sheet.

“Is this what we’re doing now?” he says eventually, voice pitched low enough to slice through the noise around you. “Romantic dinner for two, complete with tomato-scented paperwork?”

You hum, unbothered. “Only if your idea of romance includes swim rosters and three broken whistles.”

“Don’t kink shame me,” he replies, without missing a beat.

That earns the smallest upward twitch of your mouth, but you don’t let it grow. You’ve been through this dance too many times.

“Shouldn’t you be over there?” you nod vaguely toward the middle of the dining hall, where Sirius’s usual entourage of junior counselors and impressionable campers are engaged in what appears to be a napkin-folding contest slash interpretive dance.

He leans in slightly, like he’s about to reveal something confidential. “I was. But then I remembered someone here enjoys my company immensely and would be devastated if I left her all alone.”

You glance sideways. “Pity Maddison ran off then.”

His eyes sparkle behind the sunglasses still inexplicably perched on his head. “You wound me.”

“You’ll recover.”

His shoulder brushes yours. He doesn’t move away. Of course he doesn’t. He smells like lake water and sun cream, like grass and heat and the sharp, peppery tang of whatever body spray he overuses. You shift subtly, but not enough that it matters.

He exhales dramatically. “I’m exhausted. I think Danny tried to bruise me on purpose.”

You stab a spiral of overcooked pasta. “Good for Danny.”

He laughs, short and surprised. “So cold. I missed this.”

You roll your eyes, content to leave the conversation there.

“See?” he says, nudging your knee with his. “Admit it. You’d miss me if I weren’t here.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“You would.”

“Only in the way people miss headaches when they’re gone. To remember how peaceful life is without it.”

The jab earns a sharp, startled laugh from Sirius – the kind that bursts out before he can help it. It draws a few curious glances from nearby tables, but you both stay cocooned in your corner, tucked just slightly out of reach from the dining hall madness. The noise blurs at the edges again. Voices filter in and out – forks clatter, someone shrieks about spilled squash, chairs scrape against the floor – but none of it quite cuts through.

Sirius leans back like he’s got nowhere else to be, arms stretched across the bench behind you in that careless way of his. Like he owns the space just by sitting in it. Like he belongs.

“So,” he says after a pause, drawing the word out like a thread, “some of us are going swimming later.”

You don’t look at him. “It’s barely dinnertime.”

“After lights out,” he clarifies, grinning. “Lake. Midnight. You in?”

You turn toward him just enough to catch the curve of his smirk. “You’re joking.”

His head tilts, sunglasses still perched uselessly on his forehead. “I never joke about nighttime rule-breaking.”

“That’s the only thing you do joke about.”

He shrugs, a picture of unbothered cool. “Still. Moonlight. Water. Adventure. Don’t be boring.”

You stare at him, flat. “You’re genuinely suggesting I sneak out to go swimming in the middle of the night.”

“Correct.”

“In a freezing lake.”

“Fresh is a nicer word for it,” he replies, eyes not leaving yours.

“You’re actually serious.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Every day of my life.”

You let out a groan and drop your head into your hand. “You’re exhausting.”

“Come on,” he nudges, voice warm and coaxing. “Live a little! or is it the fun part that's putting you off?”

“It’s the you part,” you say dryly, narrowing your eyes as he falls back into form with the joke at your expense.

He clutches his chest like you’ve physically struck him. “Wounded.”

“You’ll survive.”

“I don’t know,” he says, sighing dramatically. “Not even in your top five coworkers? That’s harsh.”

“Not even top ten.” you mutter.

“Horrible woman.” But he’s laughing again, eyes creased with genuine amusement.

He’s about to push it further, you can see the start of something insufferable brewing inside of him, when a small hand tugs at your sleeve. You glance down and find Leo standing beside you, tray in hand, eyes wide.

“Can I… sit here?” he asks softly.

You shift instantly. “Of course. Always.”

He climbs up carefully, knees barely clearing the bench. Sirius wordlessly leans away to give him space, arm retracting but heat still lingering. Leo settles in, eyeing the food like it might bite first.

“Still doing bracelets tomorrow?” he mumbles, stabbing at his mac and cheese.

You nod. “After breakfast. Me and Lily. You in?”

He shrugs like it doesn’t matter, but you catch the spark in his eyes. “I wanna make one for my sister. She likes purple.”

“Then purple it is,” you say. “We’ll find the best one we’ve got.”

He gives you a small, lopsided grin, and just like that, the conversation shifts. The space around you softens. Somewhere down the table, someone is swearing they saw a monster in the woods last night, and a heated debate breaks out over pudding portion conspiracies. You glance to your left again, but Sirius is gone. Quietly, without fanfare, he’d slipped away.

Later, after lights-out rounds and cleanup, after the children are tired and full in bed, you find yourself walking back along the gravel path to the staff cabin. The trees whisper above, their branches rustling in the slow breath of night. Your trainers crunch softly on the stones, the only sound that marks your passing.

And then, just before the bend, the lake comes into view.

The dock sits still and quiet, lit only by the moon’s reflection. The surface of the water is impossibly calm, silvered like old glass. And there, sprawled out across the wooden planks, is Sirius.

He’s lying on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting lazily on his chest. His eyes are closed. Not asleep, just... still. The expression on his face is unreadable, softer in profile than you’ve ever seen it.

You freeze, caught somewhere between curiosity and unease.

You’d expected a group. Noise. Movement. Laughter echoing out over the water. But he’s alone. No midnight rebels, no splash or scream or even whisper of another soul. Just him, stretched out under the moon.

And you don’t know what to do with that.

You linger at the edge of the trees, hands tucked into your pockets, heart ticking with something uncertain. He hadn’t really expected you to come. It was just a joke, a throwaway invitation. He invites everyone. He doesn’t wait for anyone.

So why is he here? Why is no one else here?

The longer you stand, the stranger it feels to intrude. This stillness isn’t for you. Whatever has him this quiet, this still, it’s not for your eyes, you decide. So you step back, let the darkness claim you again, and leave him there beneath the moon.

But the image sticks. Long after you’ve curled into bed, it follows you: Sirius Black, alone and quiet under a silver sky.

The next morning, the sun is already high when you finish setting up for bracelet-making. The picnic tables are strewn with beads and string, plastic tubs arranged carefully. You run a hand through your hair and sigh. It’ll be a messy kind of morning, but manageable. Calm.

You expect Lily. You get Sirius.

He strides up, all smug swagger and sunglasses, hands on hips.

“Well, well,” he says, eyeing the craft table. “So where do you want me?”

You squint at him. “What?”

“Lily swapped with me,” he replies, far too cheerfully. “I’m your new co-host.”

“Swapped,” you repeat flatly.

“Crafts are good for the soul,” he says, spinning a neon thread around his fingers like a magician’s trick. “I read that somewhere.”

You narrow your eyes. “You were slagging this off two days ago.”

He grins. “Growth.”

Before you can question it further, the first wave of campers barrels into the space. Backpacks thump to the ground. A bead tub topples. Someone immediately starts chanting and shouting.

And Sirius – against all odds – steps in.

He moves through the chaos like it’s second nature. Crouching beside kids, helping them knot threads (badly), making up names for the beads (“This one’s dragon’s breath. Only use it if you’re brave”), and laughing when they laugh.

You watch, wary at first. But he doesn’t push, doesn’t overstep. You direct. He follows.

At one point, he tosses you a roll of string just as you’re reaching for it, and you catch it mid-air without thinking. The motion is easy. Natural. Like muscle memory for something you didn’t know you’d learned.

When the last camper finally leaves, arms full of tangled attempts and glitter-streaked foreheads, the silence that settles over the space is different. Not empty. Just full in a quieter way.

You’re sorting through the mess when Sirius wanders back over, holding something behind his back like he’s about to reveal a magic trick.

“Brace yourself,” he warns, eyes dancing.

You sigh. “This better not be another worm in a cup.”

“That was one time and you're the type to like worms. Anyway…’

With a flourish, he holds out the ugliest bracelet you’ve ever seen.

It’s a disaster. Pink and green threads clashing like enemies. Knots in all the wrong places. A single hot dog charm dangles from the center.

“It’s hideous,” you say honestly.

He presses a hand to his heart. “It’s bespoke. It’s… avant garde”

You try not to smile. You fail.

“I made it for you,” he says. “Wear it, or I’ll be distraught.”

You roll your eyes, but slip it on. The charm swings stupidly against your wrist. But it fits. Not well. But enough.

You glance up. “Happy?”

His grin softens, just a little. “Yeah. Actually.”

The moment hangs. Real and light and a little too fragile.

“I swear,” you mutter, “one day I’m going to punch you in the face.”

He leans in, voice low. “Would you consider anywhere else?”

The laugh comes before you can stop it, real and bright and entirely unguarded.

You shake your head. “You’re such a knob.”

And then, predictably:

“I didn’t know you could have fun,” he says, smile pulling a little too wide.

Your laugh cuts off.

You blink, stunned. “Excuse me?”

He falters. “I just meant—normally you’re so... composed. It’s good. Seeing this side of you.”

“Not being stuck up, you mean?” you say, arching a brow.

He winces and then scrambles for the right words. “Okay, yeah, that’s... yep. That’s what I meant but not in a dickish way. I just mean–”

You hold his gaze a moment longer, then sigh. “Sirius?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

And for once, he does.

The silence lingers. He leans back, watching you with that small, half-charmed, half-curious smile before turning to leave.

You shake your head. “See you later.”

“Not if I see you first.”

You turn back to the mess of string and beads, pretending to busy yourself, but your hands are still. Across the table, Sirius lingers for a beat longer – like he might say something else – but then thinks better of it. He gives a lazy salute and strolls off, humming some ridiculous tune under his breath.

You watch him go for a second too long.

It’s annoying.

And maybe a little bit... not.

The ugly bracelet still clings to your wrist, too loose, lopsided, ridiculous. The hot dog charm swings with every movement. You should take it off.

You don’t.

Because that’s the thing about Sirius Black:

He gets under your skin. Not in the charming way he thinks. But he’s there, irritating and loud and occasionally – annoyingly – almost kind.

You’re not friends.

Not really. Not yet at least.

masterlist <3

#flo'sfics #marauders au #marauders fics #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x self insert #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader #sirius black fluff #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fic #sirius black angst #sirius black #sirius orion black

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thatguywrites · 1 day ago

Text

His Utah

It's not that Mateo doesn't date in the workplace, it's that he's already dating his own Utah

A/N: Reader goes to Carnegie Mellon bc I wish I could + It's in Pittsburgh, but reader also doesn't appear in most of this lmao...

While you spent your days at university, laboring away in math classes and the library, Mateo was hard at work, both treating patients and gathering gossip to fuel your nightly cuddle session over tea and hot chocolate.

Being a nurse definitely had it's perks in that area, and Perlah and Princess were more willing to share their coveted info with a fellow nurse rather than a doctor, and knowing it was for his 'cute aesthetic college boyfriend' made them even more willing.

The moment he got to work that fateful day, he knew it would be good for gossip, with the new interns coming in, and Dr. Robby's mood clearly being on it's last thread. It going to be a big day.

What he didn't expect, was Dr. Javadi. He'd become used to everyone knowing about his relationship, and that he was gay. It was hard to hide his sudden improvemnt in mood the previous year, particularly when your coworkers are the nosiest people on Earth. He didn't wear it across his chest, you never knew who you would come across after all, but he did feel it was rather obvious.

So when in the middle of treating Earl, Javadi began stumbling her way through asking him out, he was a bit caught off guard.

"I was just wondering what nurses do after their shifts"

Mateo frowned, he really didn't know. He always just went back home to you. "In terms of what?"

"You know, do they ever, like, go out together... like, hang out to decompress after a shift or anything?"

"Yeah, sometimes" He never went, but the others seemed to be fans "I mean most of us are just happy to get the hell out of here. Personally, I'm all about a long, long, hot shower," preferably with you, but that wasn't for Earl's ears, "comfy sweats, eating some takeout infront of the TV, ideally watching something that makes me laugh"

Maybe he was being a bit mean, but he had a whole nightly routine with you, cuddling on the couch, gossiping, snacking. It really was what got him through shifts sometimes. Telling that to someone who clearly liked him? Maybe a bit harsh.

"Yeah, I can see that." Victoria seemed to move on, but her mouth didn't seem to cooperate. "I'm not imagining it in my mind, of course. I just mean that I can- I can see the appeal. I was just asking because, you know, since we work together maybe we could grab a coffee together sometime, and you could help me, get the lay of the land, so to speak?"

By now Mateo just found her kinda funny, he was confident in his looks, and had you to back him up if needed, and she was just a sweet intern stumbling her way through her first day, he kinda felt bad that he was taken. Maybe some other nurse would sweep her off her feet.

In the middle of his sandwich, Earl interrupted his thoughts "You, asking him out?"

As Victoria quickly denied his claims, Mateo couldn't help but chuckle. This was one hell of a first day for her indeed between passing out and a failed attempt at asking him out, and he knew he should cut her off before she embarrassed herself further.

"It's just that I'm- I'm new here, and so I thought-"

"I don't date people in the work place, it's nothing personal. It's just never a good idea." Not technically false. He'd met you at a Café where he returned every Saturday morning just to catch you studying, and to pine from afar. Before one day you approached him for being a creep, but he somehow managed to charm you into having coffee with him instead.

As Victoria continued to stutter along, he couldn't help but smile at the thought of you. Once Dr. McKay whisks her away, Earl turns to him, smirk on his face, "You got someone at home, don't you"

"And what if I do?"

He chucked, "Well then you ought to go get me a sandwich for having to sit through that terrible interaction"

"Alright Earl, egg salad?" He quips, walking backwards out the room, as Earl grumbles about how he should know better by now. He certainly does.

That night in the park, you were again brought up, certainly to Javadi's chagrin.

"So, Diaz, how's Y/N doing at Carnige?"

One little question tossed out by Princess was all it took for a huge smile to break out on his face, as small blush rising, as the group began to tease as they did every time, only Javadi looking lost.

"Y/N?"

"Uh, yeah. He's kinda, kinda my own Utah, you could say." Victoria's jaw dropped, and her cheeks flushed instantly as she curses out Dana under her breath. "No worries, no worries. He's doing good, but speaking of him, I do have to get home, it's movie night"

"Tell him I say hi!" Princess calls out

"As always" He responds as he walks away to your shared apartment.

As he opened the door, he finds you relaxing on the couch, browsing the Netflix catalog as you slowly snacked on room temperature popcorn. He can't help but take a moment to admire you're relaxed state, not put together, not working on school, just looking for movies. Once he begins to shed his work gear, you snap out of your trance, a smile breaking out onto your face as you come up to him and great him after his long day.

"Hey baby, long day?" He wraps you in his arms, nodding into your neck, too tired to speak "Alright baby, shower first, then do you have any gossip for me?"

As you pull away he has a huge grin across his face "Goodness baby, you wouldn't believe all that's happened today, Utah"

"Utah?"

"After our shower, baby"

Taglist: (Comment or DM to be added)

@koalapastries @op-81-lvr-reblogs

#the pitt x male reader #the pitt x reader #the pitt #mateo diaz #mateo diaz x reader #mateo diaz x male reader #the pitt x you #male reader #x male reader

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sillyshuffleunits · 3 hours ago

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Okay prev! I hate gatekeeping, so I will share :)

you’ll have to put up with my bad explaining skills tho lmao

(Under the cut to free up clutter)

Step one: pick a character of the OPPOSITE gender to your desired character. I chose Emu, and My finishing character will be Rui.

Turn on dress-up mode and pick the outfit you want. I’m using the raincloud outfit because it’s so cute :)

Now, this next step is important; TURN OFF YOUR WIFI! This is essential to work the glitch!

Next, quickly switch to a different outfit and switch back (note, if you’re using a colour variant, you will have to switch to the correct variant!)

Cancel the download! (If you didn’t switch back before the popup, it will not work correctly! Go back to the start and try again)

Now, go back and switch to your desired character!

Your base character should appear instead of your desired character! (They will also do the desired character’s pose, so this is a good way to get different poses for shuffle AUs or personality swaps!)

Turn on dress-up mode and switch the character’s hairstyle, then switch back to the one you have equipped. Retry the download!

You should end up with something like this! Note, accessories do NOT carry over, they will wear no accessory, or whatever you had equipped!

This glitch also works the other way round, meaning you can get female characters into male outfits, and also unit exclusive outfits can be used :)

Female in male outfit!

And a different pose!

I bestow thee with this knowledge and expect great results! If you get something cool, send it to me!

(Also don’t expect it to work first try, you have to follow this to a T for it to work)

UNLIMITED POWER

I now know the glitch. I probably can do this in requests one day.

still not back yet tho :/

the burnout is lasting longer than I anticipated

#tutorial☆#not a unit!#pjsk #project sekai #prsk #colourful stage #hatsune miku colorful stage #proseka

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spaceandbones · 6 months ago

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I fully believe if L whipped his dick out at quite literally ANY point in the series Light would suck it with 0 questions asked. Like it wouldn't even be an internal debate and the inner monologue would be exactly like their tennis match. I'm not even sure either of them would consider it sex and it would not be weird

#death note #lawlight #its a core belief of mine and I'll never be convinced out of it #objectively besides the fact that its obviously hot. it just makes sense #light would never let L make him uncomfortable and he'd never back down #he'd be sucking L silly thinking: is this raising the probability that I am kira? is it more suspicious if I make him come fast #should I appear to be getting it over with quickly #or should I enjoy it.... 🤔#and never once would he be like What Am I Doing.#bcus the answer is: weird psychological warfare with L and thats just an everyday occurance for him whether cock is involved or not

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deus-ex-mona · 6 months ago

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genuinely, though, this has truly been a time to be a lurker on jp music project twt

#quick timeline of events straight from my twt dash that i still cant believe i had the joy of witnessing:#the chaos began a few months ago with the tu.yu deletion threat. then things seemed fine for a bit*#*(if you don’t count the en.strries and pj.sktwt beating each other in the qrts every other hour or so)#then nghy became canon and that’s when the coincidences began to line up in a bewildering series of events #nghy outrage came first. then kinchan (hanamaru llss) announced her marriage (surprisingly gom was there in the comments which was funny)#but what wasnt funny was people trying to cancel her *just* for getting married. (c’mon guys cant you be happy for your oshi smh)#and *then* people tried to cancel the new ll group for allegedly using a.i generated album artwork based off a low res image #which was quickly debunked by subsequent releases over the following days but. the damage was done. smh #and *t h e n* tu.yu deletion was cancelled via twt poll. which. was a choice. ig.#(still think they should’ve deleted instead of guilt tripping their fans with the poll options tbh. but oh well.)#and *now* there’s the. choice. made by en.st. that im not touching with a 10 foot pole bc everything that needs to be said about it #has already been expressed more eloquently by twt users and their ‘creative’ threats to the management. it’s still a horrific choice though.#b u t there was someone comparing the en.st. ‘choice’ with lxl last stage (the part where the green dude tore up the ‘new member’ paper)#and someone qrted that and said sth like ‘well that’s well and good for lxl’s story. b u t…’#‘(hw) management ruined the story of a love series character (hiyori) by pairing her off with a childhood friend who appeared from nowhere’#‘so maybe it’s not the best example to use when it comes to management choices’ and so………..#we’ve come full circle back to nghy outrage!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! what a time to be alive. man. seriously.#i think it’s a truly terrible coincidence how all of these happened within days of each other (minus the tu.yu initial deletion notice)#…anyways i think twt is a horrible place to be on. that’s all.#but. point is. i think everyone should just try to be decent(?) people on the interwebs #if you have nothing nice to say just don’t say anything at all yk~~~~~~~#…unless you’re an en.strrie. then pls direct your complaints to the official management instead of each other~~~ it’s all their fault~~~~#so glad i dont care much for en.strs anymore tbh. md.chips who left early back during the sudden pivot to chi.kn were on to something tbh #…aight enough doomscrolling for one evening. back to cleaning idolsengen pages (or trying to at least)#this has truly been an immersive asuna experience… or something

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fushitoru · 9 months ago

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i can't stop looking at his d—d—d��d—FACE!

pairings ⸺ (SEPERATE) boy next door!gojo x reader, wrestler!toji x reader, gym trainer!sukuna x reader, pizza delivery boy!choso x reader, husband's boss!nanami x reader, perv on train!geto x reader

summary ⸺ jjk men as overused p0rn/h3ntai plots! inspired by this awesome post by the talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular @/osamucide! pls check it out and the rest of his work :3

warnings ⸺ SMUT (mdni), consent is pre-established in all scenarios (but dub con just in case), everyone is of age (or older), exhibitionism, infidelity in nanami’s, pussy drunk men lol, not edited (as always), cowgirl, missionary, creampies, VERY public sex in toji’s, art by 3-aem, lmk if I’ve missed anything!

a/n lolll i'm ngl this was so fun to write. some of these scenarios are so funnny hELP. this one is also for some of the anons who are so obsessed w choso and sukuna in bridgerton au. wrote them for you 🫡 choso’s is my fav hehe

NEW: part 2 here

general masterlist

SUKUNA RYOMEN ⸺ HOTTIE'S PERSONAL TRAINER HAS A VERY HANDS ON APPROACH!

“Brat!” Sukuna’s voice cuts through the air like a whip. “Watch your back. You’re supposed to be hinging your hips back, not whatever lazy shit you were doing.”

He steps around to your side, the heavy thud of his boots on the gym floor adding to the oppressive weight of his presence. Squatting down, he sets his hips back in one smooth motion, demonstrating with sharp precision. “Like this. Not whatever the fuck that was.”

You glance at him, your legs trembling under you. Sweat clings to your skin, a thin sheen that feels heavy after the grueling thirty minutes with your personal trainer. Sukuna definitely takes the "tiger mom" approach, every tattoo on his body echoing the sharp, uncompromising authority in his eyes. Right now, those eyes bore into you, narrowed with impatience, his hands on his hips. His scowl is practically carved into his face—stone-hard and unmoving.

Breathing hard, you slump forward, hands gripping your knees as you gasp for air. Your heartbeat drums loudly in your ears. “Sukuna, g-give me a sec. I just—fuck—” You can barely string a sentence together between gulps of air. “I just maxed out. My legs are literally shaking.”

Sukuna clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disappointment, but his voice softens—just a little. “Fine. Catch your breath. But as you do that, let’s practice proper form.”

You nod exhaustedly, not being able to think very clearly. Wiping the sweat to prevent it from getting into your eyes, you put your legs hip width apart as Sukuna gets behind you to observe your form. You bend down, trying to sit back onto your hips as best as possible, but as soon as your ass grazes Sukuna’s crotch, you lose the form in your back in surprise. “Sorry—”

“That was wrong.” Sukuna’s voice is in your ear as he puts his hands on your hips, and you are dizzy with the contact. “Here.” Both of you squat down, Sukuna’s hard body moving right behind you, and at the lowest position, Sukuna’s thumb roves over the fat of your ass, and they leave your hips to trace up your back. “Your back should be neutral, otherwise you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“O—okay,” you breathily reply, dizzy with the way he was touching you. If you listened closely, it almost sounded as if you were whimpering. Unfortunately for you, it seemed like Sukuna was more observant than you had hoped because he was looking at you in suspicion, eyes raking up and down your figure to observe your appearance. Disheveled, chest rising rapidly, sweat dripping right in the middle of your breasts—

Sukuna, out of nowhere, grabs your hand and begins walking away. “Come with me. You’re not doing them right.”

Soon, you’re led into one of the gym’s stretching rooms—the private ones, the ones meant for Sukuna to help you after the workout.

“Sukuna, what are we—” you breathlessly ask, but you’re quickly shushed by Sukuna as he hoists himself on the massage table.

“Come here,” he motions to his lap, and you wordlessly follow his directions, sitting directly on top of his lap, gasping as you realize there’s a bulge making contact with your pussy. “We’re going to try an alternative way of doing squats, one that involves a bit more cardio.” He pulls down his sweatpants, blushing, furious cock springing out as he pulls down your yoga pants.

Soon, you’re moaning as you slowly take in his cock, sliding down as his precum and your copious amount of slick mix and drip onto his pelvis. Your feet are on either side of his legs, making you squat every time you lower yourself down on his length.

“Fuck! You’re so tight.” He slaps your ass as you bounce yourself rapidly on his cock. “Pretended to not know how to squat just for me to put this fat cock in you, isn’t that right?”

You didn’t have the capacity to answer, just moan as his cock hits your spot. Unsatisfied with your pace, Sukuna flips you both over until your back is on the table.

“Oh fuck yea,” Sukuna pants, hips pistoning into you rapidly, effectively fucking you into the table, and his quads are bulging in sheer strength as they clench and unclench in reflection of his pleasure. “Didn’t know my client had such a sweet pussy.”

KAMO CHOSO ⸺ SHE ORDERS BIG SAUSAGE PIZZA AND GETS HER DEEP DICK CRAVINGS FILLED! (the title is so ridiculous im crying)

“Your total’s $14.93. You’re five bucks short.” The delivery boy—an emo looking guy with hair in space buns—responds to the wad of cash and coins you had just given him. He couldn’t look any less bored than he was as he stared down impassively at you, hot, steaming pizza in one hand.

"Wait, but I ordered a small?" You ask him in confusion. "I couldn't possibly finish a large one by myself!"

He pulls out your receipt from where it was tucked into the pizza box. "Your order said a large." Upon glancing on it, you look that he was indeed correct—right next to your pizza, the size LARGE glared at you through the sheen of the reciept's paper.

"Oh," You said, dumbly, blinking in confusion. "Well, I can pay the rest in card if that's okay."

You get an impassive "I don't have a card reader."

"Oh, okay," you laugh nervously, hand going up to scratch the back of your head and fiddle with the rest of your fingers. "Okay, well," you squinted at his nametag, "Choso, let me just check the remaining cash I have. You can come inside if you'd like."

He comes inside, dropping off the pizza you ordered on your kitchen counter as he makes his way to sit on your couch. You go to your bedroom, checking your desk drawer for any loose cash you may have stored but to no avail. Heart racing and nervous, you frantically search the upper shelf of your room, on your tiptoes as you look for your money jar, praying that there was a 5 dollar piece of cash lying around. Instead, your fingers crash against some book propped on it, tumbling down onto the floor with a large thud!

You hear footsteps coming up to your bedroom door. Choso, standing near the door. "You good?"

"Yea," you strain, still reaching up high to grasp at the jar. "I'm just trying to find somethi—”

The heat of Choso's body surrounds you as he presses closer to you, reaching up effortlessly to grab at the money jar. His groin presses against your backside, acutely aware of his breaths as he passes you the jar.

Which is empty.

"Fuck!" you curse. You turn, looking at Choso in anxiousness, as you notice he hasn't backed away at all. "I'm sorry, but is there any alternative way to pay for the pizza? Again, I'm really really sorry for the hassle."

"You have to pay for the food in some sort of way," he says with a stony face. Your mind is racing, thinking of ways you could pay but coming up short.

As a result, you end up with your face stuffed against your pillow, the hot delivery boy plowing and drilling his cock into you.

"Fuck, so irresponsible. Couldn't even pay for the pizza she ordered without a stranger's cock inside of her." At his dirty talk, you whimper and squeeze your pussy, Choso groaning as a result.

"What was that?" He grabs your hair and pulls your face up as his tongue traces the frame of your ear. "What were you trying to say, you cockslut?"

"'M sorry!" You squealed and babbled, eliciting little ah! ah! ah!'s as he continues bumping his cockhead against the gooey spot inside your pussy.

"Yea, you better be. Wasting my fucking time. I'm going to come inside, got it?" Choso growls as he continues pistoning his hips inside.

GETO SUGURU ⸺ ANIME GIRL GETS HER PUSSY FINGERED ON PUBLIC TRAIN!

He pulls you in for a deep kiss while rutting inside you. "Aren't you my good girl? Taking this cock for me like a good girl?" You squeal, blabbering nonsense as he fucks you into next Tuesday…

You read the smut from your favorite author on Tumblr, devouring each word while remaining stony faced as the train rocked underneath your feet. In the corner facing the doors, you made sure that you were angled in such a way that no one would be able to see the filthy things you were reading on your screen.

However, the metro was slowing down and you looked up quickly—which was painful, considering you were so invested in the story—to make sure it wasn't your stop. As the rush of foot traffic simultaneously populated and vacated the metro, you paid no attention to the people behind you. After all, other people would be too busy on their phones to see what you were reading, right?

"You're going to take this cum, right? I'm going to breed you, my sweet, sweet girl." He laughs. You take a moment to take in his pretty features. Long hair, beautiful face, all filled with lust for you...

You scan the words, blush evident on your face as your favorite writer has done it yet again. Adjusting, you squeezed your thighs for relief and toyed with the hem of your skirt, failing to notice the soft breaths trailing down the back of your neck just because of how enthralled and taken you were with the plot.

And then, a hand trailed up your thigh, catching you by alarm. You almost drop your phone in your rush to turn and look at the creep that was touching you, ready to beat the shit out of him.

But when you do turn, you stop and widen your eyes. The man in front of you seems even prettier than the fictional man you were reading about, and you take him in as he rubs circles on your thigh. His sultry eyes rake down your figure, his lips pulled back in a knowing smirk. "That's some filthy shit you're reading."

Looking at him, your heart starts beating faster solely because of the promise of what his hands would do as they were currently softly stroking your thighs, getting closer and closer to going under your shirt. "I—I—uh sorry—I—"

"It's okay, pretty girl." He gives you a kiss on the side of your neck. "Continue reading it. Can you do that, baby?"

You nod, not trusting your voice. Coincidentally, you're at the part where the man helps the girl masturbate, rubbing and teasing her pussy up and down. The man behind you does the same, teasing your lips while refusing to delve inside your panties, no matter how badly you want him to do.

"That feel good?"

You whimper. "Yes—ah—it feels good. Please touch me on my pussy directly. Please."

The man behind you chuckles, and your knees buckle at how rich his voice is. You would join a cult for this man. "Since you asked so nicely, I will. Call me Suguru."

His fingers pull your panties aside and enters, soon knuckle deep inside your cunt, and as quietly as you can, you moan his name as he continues fingering you in front of all the strangers on the train. His hips press closer to your ass, and you throb even more at the huge bulge he’s sporting. He’s sloppily licking on the outside of your ear, right where you’re sensitive, and you shiver and lose yourself in the pressure even more.

The pleasure was building in you steadily and Suguru groans. “That’s right, take it all.”

You almost jump when the PA sounds. "The next stop is Shinjuku."

“That’s my stop. You have to cum before then, or you won’t be able to cum,” Suguru whispers in your ear, speeding up and hitting your g-spot with precision. There are tears forming in your eyes as you make an effort to stay quiet, especially with Suguru giving seductive kisses to your sensitive neck.

“Fuck, you got so tight,” he groans. “Gonna cum?” He uses his thumb to rub fast circles on your clit, and you see stars.

“I will—I will,” you cry, as the throbbing and pulsing sensation grows faster and faster until finally, you cum with a muffled cry, because Suguru has his fingers in your mouth to ensure you don’t scream out on this very, very public train. “Squeezing my fingers so much, relax,” Suguru laughs, popping his slick-coated fingers in his mouth. “You gonna do that to my dick next?”

NANAMI KENTO ⸺ BEAUTIFUL WIFE HAS TO FUCK HER HUSBAND'S BOSS! (NTR)

“Mr. Nanami,” you scrape a hand through your hair and clear your throat. “You wanted to see me?”

For a moment, your husband’s handsome boss eyes you down, catching on the top button of your blouse currently unbuttoned. You mainly did it because of nervousness, the heat of the room escalating with Nanami Kento’s presence. After a long bout of intimidating silence, he finally speaks. “I assume you can guess why you are here?”

You bounce your knee as you sit across from the man, and you suddenly start sweating. Of course you can guess. Your bum of a husband—the one currently under your charge—neglects to do his deliverables, choosing to take comfort in the fact that you were his higher-up to trust that he would not be getting terminated for his lack of responsibility.

But what he doesn’t know is that you’ve been begging Nanami not to fire him, despite the propelling and clear reasons to do so. And you fear the day he finally chooses to stop listening to you.

“Team leader, I’m going to need much more convincing. Your team has been decreasing in productivity ever since your husband joined, and it’s hindering the company,” he reminds you stoically. “I’ve seen you working overtime far too frequently to cover up for your spouse’s negligence.”

You wish time would speed up just to get this difficult conversation with. “I—I’m going to be honest, Mr. Nanami. I don’t have much warrant to continue having him on the team, but it would put my family in much…emotional conflict if this were to happen.” The said emotional conflict would really only be from your husband. You’re sure he’s going to take this as an excuse to drink himself silly, blaming you for not being able to keep him employed. Your throat dries as you finally meet eyes with your boss, silently pleading him to come up with a solution.

“I see.” Nanami crosses his arms. “I suppose there is a…favor you could do for me.”

At that, you perk up and nod your head frantically. “Of course. Anything.”

Which is why you find yourself bent over Nanami’s desk, his cock drilling inside you. He’s ripped your stockings, pulled up your miniskirt, and put your panties to the side as he moans about how sweet your pussy feels. “I’ve been waiting for this forever. Tell me, is my cock better than his?”

“It is!” you squeal. “You’re so—so big!”

Nanami moans as he ruts inside you, your walls squeezing him tight. “Darling, I c—can tell he doesn’t treat you right. You are so tight around me, pussy’s been waiting for a while for a real man.”

You moan and curse, blabbering affirmations while his dick impales you. Even though Nanami is the one who’s owed the favor here, his hands wind their way around your body to rub at your clit, simulating you even more, making you sob. “Please don’t stop!”

“I won’t ever, sweetheart,” he pants. “I’m going to finish inside her, okay? Make sure to keep it in when you go home and greet your husband.”

FUSHIGURO TOJI ⸺ BABE GETS IMMEDIATELY DESTROYED IN NAKED WRESTLING (WITH AN AUDIENCE) (find extended ver here!)

Cheers surround you as you step into the arena. You know who your opponent is—-Fushiguro Toji. Even when you looked at his pictures earlier, you knew you were doomed. No matter what angle the photographer took the photos in, his muscles seemed to be bulging, effectively spelling out the sore defeat you were about to face today.

And there he is. Him in the flesh. He’s leaning against the boxing ring’s outer borders, head tilted back lazily while his manager, Shiu, was informing him quickly (and intensely) about the rules of today.

Nothing crazy. Only fuck when all clothes are off of her.

The way his neck is tilted back, compression shirt showing off his upper physique made you weak in the knees already. Additionally, judging based off of the bulge he seemed to be sporting in his grey sweatpants, you knew you were doubly fucked.

Shiu seems to be done talking, so he steps back and takes a seat. Toji leans his head back, rolling his neck to stretch it out, and in the middle of doing so, catches your eye.

You almost drench your panties.

His eyes darken, giving you a sultry look as he cheekily winks. While his cocky demeanor was warranted (he was much stronger and bigger than you), your cheeks heated up in both arousal and irritation.

The sound of a whistle is heard as music starts to play. The stadium’s screens flashes the cocky image of Toji, who saunters in the middle of the ring, flexing his muscles to his screaming fans.

When your signature theme plays, you do the same, to no shortage of fans yourself. You can feel everyone in the stadium, especially your male fans, rove over your figure. You’re wearing a very low cut top that displays the swell of your boobs and even tighter shorts that squeeze your ass and show off the shape of your pussy. As you walk towards Toji, you can feel his heavy gaze on you as you nervously shake his hand.

“Try to last long, okay?” Toji smirks, patting your shoulder. “I’ll try to drag this out as much as I can, but it’s gonna be fuckin hard if that ass is grinding against me.”

You glare at him, but there’s not much intensity there. “Yea, yea,” you huff. “For all I know, you’ll be my personal dildo today.”

And the fucker’s smile widens. “Let the games begin.”

Soon enough, the sound of the whistle draws you towards each other, keeping each other in a lock to tackle the other down in an objective to take off layers of their clothing. Your fans cheer when you have Toji underneath you for a split second, only for female ones to become more riotous as he easily overtakes you, pins your hands down, and wrenches your shorts off of you.

“Toji is currently in the lead!” The announcer’s voice in the stadium echoes of your defeat as you flail around, now bottoms only covered by your panties. Deciding to pull out your signature move, you maneuver so your thighs surround Toji’s waist and hump your hips against his bulge. This momentarily distracts and weakens Toji, and you take full advantage of it by overtaking him and now straddling him. You quickly take off his shirt, salivating at the muscles you see. The whole stadium, in fact, can his abs and pecs glistening with sweat.

Your attention is back to Toji as he chuckles darkly. “You’re going to regret that. I was going to drag this out, princess, but I gotta fuck the brat out of you.” With that, he puts his whole body weight on you and strips you down one by one.

The arena cheers as your lace bra is uncovered, your sweat shining on the screen as your breasts are displayed. Toji then unhooks your bra, and the roars get even louder as your tits pop out. He takes a moment to grope them, your whines ignored as he pinches your nipples. “What a sensitive girl,” he coos. “Too bad she was too weak. Now she’s going through to have to take my cock.

With that, he finally unveils your glistening pussy for all eyes to see and the crowd goes wild, chanting for Toji to finish inside you. Toji flips you over so you’re on your hands and knees and pulls down his pants.

You don’t look back at the monster that’s about to enter you for the sake of your mental health, but your legs are shaking in anticipation of his cock, slick dripping down your thighs.

“Fuck.” And Toji’s slowly entering you, the humiliating plap! plap! plap! of his hips against the flesh of your ass echoing multiple strangers watch your pussy get wrecked. “The fuck this pussy’s so tight for? Thought you were a slut?”

You’re tearing up, but not fucked out enough to prevent you from snarkily replying, “You’re not turning me on, small dick.”

He did not like that very much.

Toji drills his hips into yours faster and slaps your ass multiple times consecutively. “Yea, so why is she clenching so fucking much? Why is she dripping? Just for that, I’m going to come inside of your slutty pussy.”

The crowd chants cum, cum, cum! and Toji just does that. Ropes of his cum fill you, and you drop down in exhaustion to hear Toji declared as winner.

GOJO SATORU ⸺ GIRL GETS FUCKED BY PEEPING TOM NEXT DOOR!

You sigh, extending your back and un clipping your bra, letting your tits bounce free after a long, long week of college. It was finally Friday night, and with no one in the house due to a party the rest of your family was attending, you could finally enjoy your time home on the holidays, starting with a solo session.

You clench your thighs in anticipation as you scrolled your phone, seeking an audio you could masturbate to. And you were close to finding one, until you felt eyes on you.

These eyes were nothing new. The boy next door, Gojo Satoru, has also been your crush since middle school. Even though neither of you have ever made a move, you’ve made bold moves since starting college, stripping with the blinds open to give him a show. You had kind of had a sixth sense as to when the fucker would start watching you, and it flared as you slowly dragged your hands down. Bending over and shaking your ass, you slipped your skimpy shorts down your legs, giving him a clear view of your wet pussy.

But masturbating wasn’t enough for today. None of the college frat bros could make you cum, no matter how much they boasted about their fuckin roster, and you were tired of Satoru just watching. Just seeing him work out shirtless in his lawn, sun shining his sweat to give him a golden halo, was enough to make you sick, hungry for his dick. The way he was so shy and the mannerisms he had (as a loser) let you know he had a big fucking dick.

Needless, to say, you were tired of just fantasizing and speculating about his dick. Turning around, the moonlight allowed you to see the silhouette of his wrist moving up and down his length, even if he had tried to make his best effort to darken his rooms. Putting on your best show of an angry face, you grab your phone aggressively and dial his number.

The line rings, and he picks up. “Hey,” and you can tell he’s a little breathless. “long time no see. What’s up?”

“Cut the fucking act out,” you spit. “I know you’ve been fucking watching me, perv.”

Satoru’s panic is comically obvious over the phone as he rushes his words. “Wait, wait—listen, I—I can explain.”

“On how you’re being a peeping tom?” You glare at his window. “Come over, Gojo. Then I’ll listen to your fucking explanation.”

One thing leads to another, and now you’re spread out on your childhood bed, Gojo whimpering and whining as he plows his dick into your pussy. “You feel so—so good. M’ sorry—sorry for doing that. Your pussy is too good for me to look at.”

You laugh meanly and grab his chin. “You feel sorry yet, you pervert?” And Satoru can only cry out as you yank his head. “Remember, this is the only fucking thing you’re good at. Being my glorified dildo. Got it? Now, you’re going to fill me up only after you make me cum at least two times.”

a/n yea this was depraved….lmk what yall think tho 😭

comment and reblog I’d love to hear your thoughts! (also, requests are open heheh)

NEW: part 2 here!

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