#there you go- now look at that card and be sure to remember it. you got it? perfect put it back in the deck...

[formulafanfics13]

Trying to deep dive and read all your stories but not quite done yet so sorry if this is repetitive!

Love the driver x team principles daughter trope. Was thinking maybe Lewis & Toto’s daughter. Lewis knew her growing up but from like 16 to mid 20’s she was living with her mother maybe out of the spotlight. Comes back all grown up and Lewis goes crazy… feel free to improvise everything you write is so amazing! Thanks! ❤️

all grown up - LH44

Masterlist

Summary: She was Toto’s daughter. She used to run around the paddock in pigtails and oversized headphones. But she disappeared at sixteen, moving back to her mother’s estate in Austria, far from the chaos of Formula 1. Now she’s back. Mid-twenties. Stunning. Composed. And when Lewis sees her again for the first time in years, he forgets everything but her. He’s known her since she was a kid. But now? Now he can’t stop imagining his best friend’s daughter on her knees.

Warning! Age gap, family friend dynamics, dirty thoughts, emotional and sexual tension, slow burn, longing, possessive Lewis, sacred unspoken boundaries, delayed gratification, forbidden vibes

You weren’t supposed to be at the paddock that day.

Lewis was mid-conversation with Toto, standing near the Mercedes garage, discussing upgrades and tyre strategies and whatever else the engineers had stuffed into their briefing packs.

He wasn’t really listening. He was jetlagged. He was tired.

Then Toto turned mid-sentence and smiled. “Ah,” he said. “My daughter.”

Lewis followed his gaze. And the world stopped turning.

You were walking across the paddock like you’d done it a thousand times. But not as a teenager. Not with braces or knee socks or clutching your father’s hand. No, this was a woman. Hair pinned back loosely, sunglasses perched on your head, long black trousers and a tucked white blouse. Elegant. Confident. Untouchable.

Lewis blinked.

You walked straight up to Toto, pressed a kiss to his cheek, smiled like the sun, and turned to Lewis.

“Hi,” you said. “It’s been a while.”

He couldn’t speak. Not at first.

He was busy remembering the version of you that used to steal his phone to play Snake. The girl who would curl up in the back of the Mercedes motorhome and fall asleep in his hoodie. The kid he used to call Wolff Cub.

You weren’t a cub anymore.

“Y-yeah,” he managed. “It’s… good to see you again.”

Your smile deepened, but you didn’t say anything else.

Toto clapped Lewis on the back. “She’s staying with us this weekend. I figured it was time she came back.”

Came back. Lewis wasn’t sure the paddock was ready for it. Because you weren’t the same.

And worse, Lewis wasn’t the same around you.

He watched you greet the mechanics and other team principals. Saw how James Vowles did a double take when you walked past. How George looked vaguely panicked when you hugged him like you’d grown up in his kitchen. You had, sort of.

You were Toto’s only child. And Lewis had watched you grow up. Until you vanished.

Sixteen. Just before the summer break. Your parents had a quiet custody reshuffle. You moved to your mother’s estate in Austria, enrolled in private school, then university, then law. For years, your Instagram had been locked. You barely posted. Lewis had only seen you in a few Christmas card updates, and even then, never in person.

Until now.

Until you stood beside your father, casually sipping coffee, tossing your hair over one shoulder and asking how FP1 had gone like you hadn’t just derailed his entire morning.

Lewis stared.

He knew it was wrong. He knew how it looked. But Jesus Christ, you were radiant. And he remembered you. He remembered helping you with homework. Teaching you how to parallel park in an empty paddock lot. Watching you cry when Mercedes lost in 2016.

Now you looked like you could ruin his life. And part of him wanted you to.

“Lewis?”

He blinked. You were looking at him, brows raised. “Hm?”

“I asked if you were going to debrief.”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

You smiled. Soft. Almost knowing. “See you later then,” you said.

And walked away. His eyes followed you until you disappeared around the motorhome corner.

Toto didn’t notice. But James did.

He leaned over and muttered, “You okay?”

Lewis dragged a hand down his face. “I’m so fucked.”

[ravencp86]

Penthouse - Jegulus - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 896

“James, have you seen my good suit?” Regulus shouted down the stairs.

“I've packed it already, love, with all the other bags ” James called back to him as he emerged at the bottom of the stairs, shoes already on. “We're going to be late if we don't get on the road in the next 5 minutes, sweetheart.”

Regulus huffed, “Yes, James, because rushing me always makes me move faster.”

Regulus put his hands on his hips, and he saw James holding his tongue, clearly trying not to laugh.

“Reggie, light of my life, could you please come downstairs now so that we can get on the road and start our lovely relaxing holiday?” James beamed up at him.

“Sarcasm duly noted. I need 2 more minutes, which is the perfect time to get the tea ready.”

As Regulus walked away, he heard James reply, “Already done.”

Regulus rolled his eyes as he did one more sweep of their bedroom and bathroom, making sure they hadn't forgotten anything important, like toothbrushes, again.

When he was finally happy nothing had been forgotten, he popped his shoes on, grabbed his coat and walked out to see James leaning up against the car and waiting somewhat patiently.

James opened his door for him and kissed his cheek as he got into the car, chuckling at him and shaking his head.

Then, once James had locked the front door and jumped into the driver's seat, they were on their way.

Regulus must have dozed off, as the last thing he remembered was them getting on to the motorway, and now he was being gently woken.

“Sweetheart, we're here,” James said softly as he squeezed his thigh.

Regulus blinked awake, but there wasn't much to see. Apparently, James had waited until they were in the underground parking garage before waking him.

“Oh,” he said. “It's lovely.”

James just chuckled at him. “Come on, let's get checked in and then you can actually see where we are.”

James made swift work of getting them checked in, whilst Regulus looked around at the beautifully ornate reception. It was timeless and yet opulent. Regulus was very impressed. This was a lot nicer than that rundown B&B Sirius and Remus dragged them all to last summer.

Regulus jumped slightly when James put an arm around his waist. “You ready, love?”

James steered him towards the lift, where the porter was waiting for them with their luggage. As they approached, the doors opened and the luggage was pushed in. However, before Regulus could follow the porter on, James stopped him.

“Listen, this is going to seem really strange but go with it, yeah?” James asked as he pulled something from his pocket.

Regulus raised both his eyebrows in question, as he saw that James was holding a blindfold.

“Potter?”

“Black.” James smirked back.

They stared each other down for a few minutes before a gentle cough reminded them there was a porter waiting for them.

“Eugh, fine,” Regulus conceded.

James placed the blindfold over Regulus’ eyes, kissed him gently and held his hands, helping him into the lift.

Regulus heard the doors close and felt the lift start moving. Without his vision and without knowing the hotel they were in, it was hard to tell how many floors up they were, but it felt like they must be high up as they appeared to be in the lift for several minutes.

Once the doors opened again, there were the usual sounds of key cards and luggage trolleys, and then James was guiding Regulus forward again.

“Wait here,” James whispered into Regulus’ ear. Then he let go of him and he heard him talking quietly to the porter and closing their door.

After what felt like too long, Regulus started getting a bit fidgety, given he still couldn't see anything.

“James? Can I take this bloody thing off yet?”

James laughed softly from behind him. “Yes.”

Regulus pulled the blindfold off and found himself standing in front of a huge wall of windows, a view of the Oxford spires greeting him, as he looked out across one of his favourite cities and his breath caught in his throat. He stepped up to the glass and looked out properly at the view of the city.

“James, did you really book the Penthouse Suite for the whole week?” Regulus asked as he turned around and his breath caught again.

James Potter was kneeling behind him on just the one knee.

Regulus felt his eyes welling up as he looked down at James.

“I had this whole speech prepared and I had a whole plan." James began. "There would be a fancy dinner, lit by candles obviously, your favourite wine and then a walk through the city to the Bridge of Sighs. Then I was gonna ask you to be my husband.” Regulus was crying, and James’ eyes were welling up. “But seeing you standing there, I couldn't wait any longer.” James stopped.

“Ask me then!” Regulus rushed out.

“Regu-”

“Yes!” Regulus didn't let James finish. He rushed towards the other man and collapsed onto his own knees in front of him. “Of course it's yes!”

James slid the beautiful green emerald onto his left ring finger and Regulus flung his arms around James’ neck and smashed their lips together.

Yeah, this trip was a hundred times better than last summers and would take some beating in the future.

[g00d--m0urning]

Forgiveness. Can You Imagine That? (pt.3 Daisuke)

Forgiveness. Can You Imagine That? guide

(CW: talk about reader being cut by glass- not self inflicted. talks about reader being hurt, also not self-inflicted, unless you count being clumsy self-inflicted)

You and Daisuke have a talk. A straight up talk, no bullshit for once.

He also gets to learn the origin of every scar that comes with the life of being an absolute klutz. Turns out he likes taking inventory of more than just dishes.

This chapter is shorter than the other's because I really wanted to write a chapter where there's absolutely no bullshit, no big gestures, nada. Just two grown adults having a grown adult conversation and I felt like Daisuke was one of the best options for that (Dorian was runner up, but I already have his chapter partially plotted in my mind). Also, about my posting schedule (if anyone is interested/cares), I'm probably going to post once a day, and late at night because that's when I seem to write best.

You’re pretty sure Daisuke has been ignoring you, at the very least avoiding you as much as possible. He’s always busy, which isn’t uncommon for him, but he’s always made time for you and you’re pretty sure if you don’t spend time with that poetry loving, busybody dummy, you’re going to explode.

He’s busy working when you come into the kitchen and you’ve learned from your mistake--that you’ve made multiple times--knocking on the wall to announce your presence, instead of sneaking up behind him, “Hey, do you think you spare just a second- or more than a second, like a handful of seconds, maybe even a minute or two?”

“Yes teacup, I have a few seconds to spare for you,” Daisuke assures, setting down his clipboard and closing the cabinet he was inventorying. “Maybe even a minute. If you play your cards right.”

“Epic, c’mon,” you grab his hands, pulling him over to sit down, “Let’s talk.”

He doesn’t let go of your hands, flipping them over, brushing his thumbs over your palms. He’s staring so hard at them, you’re almost worried he’s going to burn holes into your skin. “Talk about what?”

“About why you, my precious little poet, have been avoiding me,” you tell him, staring him directly in the eyes.

You’re so over dancing around everybody and you’ve learned that, especially with Daisuke, straight up communication to get to the root of the problem is easiest. It might hurt a little to get the truth out, but it’s like waxing: it hurts, but it gets the root out. 

“I…Have been,” he admits, only after heavily debating denying it. There’s no point, you’ve learned to read him easier than you do his poetry. “I apologize, Teacup.”

“Apology accepted,” you promise, smiling softly, taking one of your hands back to set it on his cheek, tracing your fingers over the smattering of freckles that paint his skin.

He wraps a hand around your wrist, holding it to his cheek. His head tilts, pressing his lips to your palm. His lips are soft, like porcelain, against your skin, and warm, like a cup of tea. 

“You haven’t been avoiding me because you’ve been mad at me right?” you ask, unable to resist the urge. You want all the feelings out right now.

“Why in the world would I be mad at you?” he asks right back, sounding almost offended at the prospect of him being mad at you. How could he ever be upset with his muse?

“...Because I dropped a cup?” you remind, pouting at his offense. He can’t be offended! You broke a cup, he should be mad. God, you remember the look he gave you the day you chipped him; it still haunts you.

“Oh. Oh, no, I’m not mad at you for that,” he promises, pulling you into his lap. He holds you like you’re fragile, a treasure to be treated with care. “That was an accident, how could I be mad at you for that?”

He rests his chin on your chest, looking up at you with the widest, sweetest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen. “I did think about making you use paperware, however. Or perhaps some of the children’s plates; the ones with suction bottoms.”

You laugh, kissing the top of his head, “That’s fair,” you agree, pulling the teacup from his hair, ruffling his hair into place. “That still doesn’t explain why you’ve been avoiding me,” you point out, brushing your fingers through the ends of his hair.

“I feel guilty. About that night,” he murmurs, his eyes glassing over as he thinks back to that night.

 He feels like throwing up every time he remembers the way the cup had sliced through the delicate skin of your palms. The way the clearness of the glass became red with your blood. He was--is--angry about the broken cup. Though, at himself and not you, like you’d assumed.

“You were hurt because of me,” he brushes his thumbs over your palms, feeling every callous, ridge, and line.

“I was hurt because I freaked out and made the dumb decision to try and pick up glass with my bare hands in the midst of a panic attack,” you tell him, a slightly self-deprecating chuckle leaving your lips, “Look, not even a scar.”

You flip your hands over, presenting him with your unscarred palms. Daisuke traces his fingertips over each line of your palms, sending tingles through your veins. He pauses, pressing his thumb against a specific spot.

“Where’d this one come from?” he asks, dragging his fingernail over the rough spot of tissue.

“A scrap from when I was a kid, wiped out at the pool, took a chunk from my palm and busted my chin, see?” you tilt your head up to show him the scar that remains from the result of your childhood clumsiness.

“Ah, so not my fault?” he whispers, lightly pressing his lips to your chin.

“Not your fault,” you confirm, scrunching your nose up at the kiss. The scar is still tender, making the kiss ticklish.

He pulls your sleeve up, tapping a grey spot on your arm, silently requesting an explanation, “Oh, yeah.. That one,” you roll your eyes, annoyed at the memory, “Some jerk in middle school stabbed me with a pencil.”

His eyes darken slightly, but he doesn’t comment further on that, pinching the scar just above your elbow, “Another fall. I tried skateboarding, once upon a time. Did not end well.”

He hums in response, moving to your other arm, twisting it around carefully. Daisuke caresses a mark on your inner arms, looking up at you briefly, “A burn mark; I accidentally bumped my arm against the top of the oven while I was trying to pull out cookies.”

“You’re quite chipped, teacup,” he remarks, setting his hands atop your thighs, pulling you closer to him, “And strong. You’re so strong.”

“That’s because the chips make me stronger,” you say, resting your head on top of his, nuzzling your nose into his hair, “Is that cliché to say?”

“Slightly, mayhap, but it’s true,” Daisuke concurs, tucking his head into the crook of your neck, his breath fanning across your skin, “Every chip has a story, the very story that creates you. I’m glad to be a part of that story.”

“I’m glad you’re a part of my story too,” you whisper, letting your eyes fall shut, “Just promise me you’re not going to make me use silicone dishware. I hate the feeling of them.”

He laughs airily, lightly pressing a kiss to your neck, “I won’t make you use silicone dishware,” he promises, giving you a slight squeeze. “No promises about paper, though,” he adds under his breath. 

You bark a laugh, shoving his shoulder, “Daisuke!”

[bi-panicatthedisco]

Scenes Of Our World.

Self aware twst oneshot

[hey!! Guess who got bored over the weekend? No need to guess actually, it was me. Wasn't really planning on writing more after my little series, but this idea started plaguing me. Decided to just get it into words, and out of my head lol. This isn't proofread or anything, just finished it last night. Hope you enjoy the silly idea I had! And I also hope you remember to drink some water and get some rest if it's late!]

Now as a Twisted Wonderland fan, there are certain things you can expect. Amazing story? Yes! Pretty cards? Also yes! Self aware characters? Um... Yes? Apparently???

It started with small things, little nods to the fact they're in a game. For example, a new line of dialogue here or there (mostly Idia). Or their movements appearing more fluid. Though that quickly leads to a full new vignette just appearing in the vignette tab of the stories. The name is a little off as well, "they're listening" Like geez... but you aren't gonna complain about extra character moments! Or the five gems. So obviously you click on it!

Cater: "Hey-hey trey-trey! Wanna guess what I saw on magicam?"

Trey: "Hey Cater, I was about to ask why you're sitting on my counter actually... can I assume you're not gonna get off until I ask about the magicam thing?"

Cater: "Lol, what a hurtful thing to say! Of course I'll get off right away! ...just as soon ask~"

Trey: "Hahhh, fine. What did you see Cater?"

Cater: "A new hashtag is going viral on magicam! Self aware au's! Apparently the first big post came from an account right from NRC itself haha."

Trey: "...Hey now... Y'know they're listening in right now, we have to be a bit more careful with our words. You're being pretty bold now that you're able to talk freely in front of them..."

Trey looks a little apprehensive, and you could swear he looks between you and Cater a few times, but Cater just winks, smiling at him

Cater: "C'mon Trey! Don't be so worried all the time~ it's boring to keep pretending, I'm sure they won't mind. You seem pretty chill, right player~?"

He looks directly at the screen, winking again at you. At which point the vignette ends abruptly, leaving you so confused. But hey, five extra gems!

No amount of poking around the screens and stories give any more answers to what just happened, and as soon as you click away, the vignette disappears from the list of them. It all felt like a weird dream. Until the next day at least, when another vignette pops up. This one called "this whole time"

Ruggie: "Hey there Jack, new workout routine?"

Jack: "Yeah, gotta train hard. Professor Vargas says that it's essential to have muscles to cast stronger spells! Not only that, but I saw a new workout online and wanted to try it out."

Ruggie: "Huh, guess that's tough guys for ya. No amount of muscle would ever be enough shyhehe!"

Jack: "I told you, it ain't just for muscle! I've gotta get stronger in every way to do what I have to!"

Ruggie: "Boy, you sure are zealous about this whole thing... Then again, who ain't on this campus? Ever since they showed up, people started working harder. Like guys puffing their chests out on a beach!"

Jack: "Hey... Hmph. Anyway, if I ever want to be strong enough to bring 'em here, I'll just need to keep training."

Ruggie: "I ain't sure it works like that, but eh, I don't really care. Good luck Jack! Although maybe remember to focus on your surroundings a bit more while training!"

Jack: "Wait a sec, Ruggie, what are you talking about?"

Ruggie: "I mean, they've been here this whole time shyhehe!"

Jack: "Wait, seriously!?"

Jack looks around frantically as Ruggie laughs at him, before eventually meeting your gaze and looking shocked. Then he looks embarrassed as he shakes his head. But the vignette ends abruptly again, and you receive your five gems!!! Woo!!! Maybe next time you should screenshot it though, since the record was gone as soon as the reward screen disappeared.

And like last time, everything went back to normal until the next day. When yet another vignette appears. Although you're a little sceptical since the name is "uninvited guest". Five gems are five gems!!

Floyd: "Ehhhhhh it's so borrriinnngg..."

Jade: "Whatever's the matter Floyd? You've been in a bad mood all day."

Floyd: "Sea bream and sea turtle got a chance to basically talk to them a couple days ago! And just yesterday shark sucker and sea urchin did too! When's it gonna be my turn..."

Jade: "Ah, have you truly not noticed yet? My, for someone like you not to notice something so obvious, heh."

Floyd: "What're ya talking about? Stop stalling and just say it already!"

Jade: "Well it appears we've had an uninvited guest this whole conversation, although not unwanted mind you. I'd offer them tea, but I think the screen would get in the way."

Floyd: "Huh? They're here!?"

Floyd stands up quickly from where he had been lounging on a couch, and as soon as he notices you, he rushes to the screen and grabs it while smiling, then he waves.

Floyd: "Heya player! Why didn't you say anything? Ahaha, when you get here, I'll have to squeeze ya real good for that~"

Jade: "Now now Floyd, no need to get ahead of ourselves just yet. After all, they're still on that side of the glass. For now at least~ heheheh..."

Floyd's looks like his mood was raised exponentially, and Jade looks terrifying as usual. But sadly (or thankfully) you can't see what happens next, as the screen fades to black and the vignette ends again. And hey, small wins, five gems! Yay!

Now look, by this point any reasonable person should've uninstalled the game, and probably thrown away the phone as well. But who said you're a reasonable person? Of course you come right back the next day for another vignette with a weird name, and Another Five Gems!!!! This time it's called "almost done it" and as soon as you click on it, kalim comes running up to the screen, so close it fills up basically the entire screen.

Jamil: "Kalim, don't stand so close to the screen. It's rude to them."

Kalim: "Huh? Why's that Jamil?"

Jamil: "I know you've been waiting for them to show up today, but your face is smushed against the screen. They probably can't see anything else."

Kalim: "OH! Ahaha, that makes sense! Sorry player!

Kalim turns and smiles apologetically at the screen as he takes a few steps back, while Jamil look upset.

Jamil: "Hey, don't acknowledge them so directly!"

Kalim: "What? Now why...?"

Jamil: "sigh... Based on what I've heard, the other dorms moments like this were cut off once they acknowledged them directly."

Kalim: "Oh right, sorry Jamil haha. Completely forgot about that!"

Jamil: "...Of course you did... Kalim, try not to be so absent minded next time. You nearly ended this time with them early!"

Kalim: "Yeah yeah, sorry... But hey! At least they're still here!"

Jamil: "I suppose. ...hm, what if I...? Ahem, if any ghosts are listening in to this conversation, I want them to know I'll find a way to bring them to this world fully, and we've almost done it."

Kalim: "Ghosts? Oh, wait you mean the playe-"

Jamil sighs with exasperation as Kalim looks happy, but the vignette ended right there, so you can't see what happened next. But... Ooh five more gems!!!! Yay!!!!! Let's focus on that! Not the fact the characters in your phone might be self aware.

Moving right along! The next day comes with a new vignette named "Joueur Injoignable", and another five gems! Yay! Even though you know you should be getting pretty dang concerned by now, who are you to say no to five gems? And besides that, fun character moments that are only slightly concerning!

Rook: "Ah Monsieur Pommette, it appears our friend behind the glass has paid us a visit at last! If only the roi du poison was here to join us in our moment of joy!"

Epel: "Gah Rook!? Why're you in mah room!? Ahem, ah dagnabbit, sorry... But seriously, why are you here?!"

Rook: "My dear Monsieur Pommette, as soon as I saw the first signs of our darling Joueur Injoignable, I knew I had to share such beauté with you!"

Epel: "Wait a second, they're here right now?! Rook! You can't just spring stuff like this onto me without even a warnin'!!! Geez, I'm lucky Vil ain't here to chew me out for talkin' like this is front of them..."

Rook: "now now, don't be so disheartened! We have been given a lovely opportunity to say whatever we wish to them! Isn't that beautiful?"

Epel: "...I question your idea of beautiful, but fine. It's nice to finally talk to ya! Well I can't exactly hear if you're saying anything back... But at least I can say what I want! And I wanted to invite you to my families farm, when Vil and the others finally finish whatever they're workin' on!"

Rook: "I would also like to extend an invitation to them, a visit to one of my families villas! There's a woods behind it, so I can teach you how to hunt, if you don't already know. Then I can hunt with you~!"

Epel: "You're taking them... Hunting? Really?"

Rook: "Oui, of course! There's no easier way to learn more about a person than witness them in such a exhilarating atmosphere! Ah, to see the tension in their movements, and how their eyes will widen with shock when..."

Epel: "Rook why do you have that look on your face? You're making it seem like you're gonna hunt them!"

Rook: "Well if they would be agreeable to it, I would enjoy a game of hide and seek with them~"

Epel: "Rook no! You're gonna scare the player away!"

Thankfully for you, the vignette ended right there (If it isn't obvious, Rook scares me a little haha). in any case, you received your five gems, along with a lingering feeling of being watched. Lovely... And worth it.

And like clockwork now, as soon as you log into twisted wonderland the next day, you see the new vignette show up, this time named "to you IRL!" and based on the trend, you can correctly guess it's ignihyde time!

Idia: "...Gahhh... Why's premo dropping a new single today...? Maybe I have time to listen to it before they show up? Huh? Oh dang, out of snacks lol. Life sux... Time to brave the outside world and- who am I kidding? Just gonna msg Ortho lolol."

Idia is spinning around on his gaming chair, seemingly not having noticed you yet as he messages Ortho at the speed of sound. Who shows up surprisingly quickly with a bag of (healthy) chips, and fruit juice. Gotta take care of his big brother!

Ortho: "Hey Idia, came as soon as I received your message! Really though, you've gotta start going out to get your own snacks again!"

Idia: "The last time I did that, I got mistaken as a mad scientist spirit! And thnx btw."

Ortho shakes his head before turning around to leave, only to notice the screen, finally.

Ortho: "Brother!! Why didn't you tell me they were already here!?"

Idia, already pulling his headphones back on with a chip in his mouth, but freezing at those words: "what did u just say?"

Ortho: "sigh Brother, I've begged you to not talk while eating."

Idia: "They're already here!?! No no no no... I didn't have prep time! I thought it'd be later today! Why's there a sudden quick time event!??"

Ortho: "Please calm down, they're still here."

Idia: "Gahhh, don't remind me! How long have they been here..."

Ortho: "We can worry about that later! C'mon, you had something you wanted to say the them when they showed up, didn't you?"

Idia: "Why're you putting me on the spot like this?! This is torture... F-fine, let me just pull up the tts I made of it earlier..."

Idia takes his tablet, and holds it close to the screen. Out of it, you can hear his voice.

Tablet Idia: "Hey there player! Bet you feel pretty lucky to have the characters you love talk to you IRL! All it took was a little messing around with your screen. It wasn't perfect, since it keeps cutting out. But hey, you win some you lose some. Gg's and stuff. N E way, if you want some even better news, we've all been working on a way to get you here heh, mostly me since I'm the smartest out of all these noobs by far-"

The vignette cuts off yet again, and you're left confused. Like geez Idia, what was THAT? And pls stop calling other people noobs... In better news though, five gems!!! And you've actually got enough for a full one pull! So excited for that sweet sweet R card! (Sorry lol)

In any case, despite your better judgement (or maybe because of it lol). You still logged on the next day. You tell yourself it's to find out what's happening, and to figure out how they're self aware. But really it's for those five gems, you're not tricking anyone! This time it's name is "a welcome gift".

Silver: "Sebek, father wanted to know if you were prepared for tomorrow. Malleus is already at the mirror chamber setting everything up."

Sebek: "Don't doubt me Silver! I've been preparing the room my liege requested for them!"

Silver: "That's good, they'll need a place to stay. I've been keeping father company so he doesn't make welcome snacks."

Sebek shivers, shaking his head as he hangs a sword on the wall next to a picture of Malleus.

Sebek: "Good, I don't want to imagine what... Unique food he'd make."

Silver: "Yeah. Speaking of unique though, are you certain they need so many swords? Maybe they would like different sorts of weapons as well. Like a battle axe? Or a spear? It's best to let them pick the sword on their own. Also... Please take down the portrait of Malleus. ...Is that the one from your room?"

Sebek: "I WILL NOT! EVERY GOOD ROOM IN THIS DORM SHOULD HAVE A PORTRAIT OF HIM! Hmph! And yes, it's a welcome gift. They should be proud! But you might have a point about the sword thing. I'll ask Lilia if I can get some of the weapons from the storage room."

Silver: "Okay, I need to be getting back to father now. I fear he told me to check on you simply for the chance to make snacks unsupervised..."

Sebek: "That's a good idea. We don't need them getting poisoned on their first day here."

Silver sighs as he heads to the door, only to start in surprise when he sees the screen there, having been there for awhile without their notice. Then he smiles calmly, shaking his head.

Silver: "Ah, goodness! How long have you been there?"

Sebek: "Who are you talking to Silv-! THE PLAYER IS HERE!? What an extreme oversight on my part to not have noticed them sooner!! PLAYER! WHAT WEAPONS DO YOU PREFER?"

Unfortunately for you (and Sebeks plight), that's the moment the vignette fades to black and you receive your FIVE GEMS! WOO! WORKING TOWARDS ANOTHER R CARD! But seriously, it is slightly concerning. I mean, the characters you care about, being real? How awful! Pfft- haha.

Yeah, obviously you're gonna log on the next day. Only to be met with an automatic scene as soon as you get past the title. You don't even get the login bonus! For shame. Grim is sitting on a chair in ramshackle, rocking back and forth anxiously as he looks around. Before noticing you pretty quickly.

Grim: "Mrah... Why do I gotta be the one to do this...? Gah! They're already here!"

He jumps off his seat, grabbing the screen with a surprised and slightly annoyed expression.

Grim: "Took ya long enough! I thought I was gonna die of boredom before you showed up! Hmph... Anyways, those stupid housewardens asked me to bring you to the mirror chamber. And normally the great Grim wouldn't do something for them, but since they asked so nicely (and gave him egregious amounts of tuna) I've decided to help them out!"

He starts carrying the screen with him, walking quickly to the mirror chamber. Giving you a (very shakey) view of the campus.

Grim: "I mean, I wanna meet you in person too, but... Well obviously you're still gonna spend a lotta time with me even once you're here, right? Yeah! After all, who could ignore the great Grim! Myahaha! Since I'm super nice, you can be my henchhuman too! Just don't spend too much time with everyone else. Bosses orders!"

Grim sounds worried, but quickly shakes his head (and the screen even more) putting on a faux confidence as he eventually enters the mirror chamber. All the overblot gang are standing there, a solemn air to the room.

Riddle: "You're here, and you brought the players screen I see. Very good."

Leona: "I still don't like that we needed the fuzz ball for this."

Azul: "Now Leona, this isn't the time for arguing. Let's simply focus on the task ahead of us~"

Leona: "Hmph, as if I need You to tell me that. Damn cephalopunk."

Jamil: "Can you not? I for one need to focus on casting my end of the spell."

Vil: "Yes, that's correct. Goodness, to think you'd be so uncivilized even in this situation."

Idia: "I hate this... Why's the tension so high rn...? This is why I prefer virtual..."

Malleus: "Silence! Let us begin quickly. Grim, set the players screen in front of the dark mirror."

Riddle: "...Since when were you in charge?"

Grim walks over to the dark mirror, grumbling about how he doesn't like taking orders from people, before setting the screen down in front of it. You're no longer able to see any of them, only the dark mist swirling underneath the surface of the glass. Slowly that mist turns brighter and brighter until your entire screen is a swirling white, like a polished marble. You can hear a crack, and see one forming in your screen. But before you can properly react, your vision goes completely white.

Next thing you know, you're standing in the mirror chamber. Surrounded by the overblotters plus Grim, who look a little shocked that you're actually there. But that shock passes as one of them walks towards you. Smiling proudly.

"I've been waiting for this moment for awhile, it's good to meet you, player."

[stvr-bloom]

hey!! can u pls write se-mi x fem reader where they were exes before the games? 🙏🏼 and as the games go on, se-mi starts noticing the little things and habits of urs. anyways, much later (u can choose what happens in between), too bad she only realizes she never stopped loving you when it’s way too late aka when u die in one of the games (bonus if her grief makes her reckless) thank u for feeding my angst addiction TT

the cruelest reality

se-mi x reader

tw: angst, lesbian heartbreak (😔), grief, sadness

a/n: thank you so much sweet anon for requesting! It means so much more than you’ll ever know 🤍🤍 lots of love, soph xoxo

This was never meant to be it. It wasn’t supposed to end now. Not like this. Never like this

It all ended a few months ago. Extremely abruptly. However, it has felt like mere minutes since the end of the best thing that Se-mi would ever receive. Ever be blessed with. You were her sunshine after all.

To be fully honest, she doesn’t know why she ended it. Was it to protect herself? Or you maybe? Well, she would do anything to protect you. There was no questioning it. If she had known what would happen, she would’ve got her act together sooner. But thats impossible. There were no warnings, no signs. Which makes this tortured reality feel like a bad dream she can’t wait to wake up from. To wake up and find you asleep, safe, next to her. However, to her dismay that just isn’t how the cards decided to fall. They definitely didn’t fall in her favour, thats for sure.

When she broke things off, Se-mi had decided it was because she couldn’t lose another person. She just couldn’t. Well, that’s what she told herself anyway. Was it to reassure herself? To ease the guilt that lies in the deep voids of her stomach, haunting her? This isn’t what she told you. She never really properly explained why, which is what made the whole breakup an even tougher pill to swallow. She’ll never forget the way your face began to crumple at her words. The way the tears flooded and the dam broke in seconds. You had begged her to tell you why. That you could fix whatever you had done. And now she just wishes she had given into her sweet girl. Who had always been there for her. Who certainly didn’t deserve what she was giving her.

Who simply deserved better.

Se-mi vividly remembers the start of the games. The car pickup, the fumes she breathed in, when she eventually woke up. The only thing she remembers as clear as day is when her eyes met yours again. She saw you in a corner, biting your nails. You always do that when your nervous. She remembers that about you. It was something she never believed would happen. But you were there. Why were you there? She didn’t know whether to be relieved or absolutely terrified. Your eyes were wide once you saw her, the same exact thoughts running through your mind.

Once Se-mi left, everything had gone down hill. You struggled to pay for the apartment on your own. Your mental health plummeted. Like a rain cloud covering the sun. It may even still be that way. You feel guilty. Surely it was because of something you did. You just don’t know what. That’s what made you feel worse. That you had hurt her in some way for her to do this. To end what you both had. What you thought was forever.

For a moment, you just stare. Stare at your past that is stood right in front of you. The person you once thought was both your future and your forever.

There’s a force between the two of you that you can’t quite put your finger on. You’re not sure anybody could fully understand what it was. But it was pulling you towards each other. Almost like nothing had ever changed. You don’t know why, but you just can’t stop your feet. Nor can she stop hers. You throw your arms around her neck, while hers rest on your waist. Honestly, you don’t know why you did it. You never stopped loving her though, that’s for sure. If it was up to you, you wouldn’t be in this situation.

Slowly, you pulled away to look at each other for the first time in what felt like an eternity. You take your hands off each other and just stare for a moment.

“..Hi” she almost whispers unsurely. The guilt came back in waves seeing your face.

“Hey” you murmur back, the awkwardness slowly brewing.

Suddenly, her demeanour changes.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she says sternly with a sense of worry in her tone.

“What am I doing here? What the hell are you doing here?” you retaliate quickly, defending yourself from any sense of criticism there could be (spoiler: there isn’t any)

She pauses.

“Moneys been tight lately. That’s all.” She murmurs quickly, as though she wanted out with it as fast as she could to speed up the embarrassment so it can pass.

“Now what about you?” She says, still curious about why you’re here.

“I-uh-I’m still in the apartment. It’s hard to pay for a two person flat when you’re on your own, you know?” You reply, with absolutely no malice and strictly trying to get her to understand you.

A wave of guilt crashes over her. She was the one who left, crumbling the world you built together. It seems when a vital part of the structure decides to leave everything kind of topples on itself, which seems to be the case here. She put you in this situation. For that, she won’t forgive herself.

You stick together mostly after this, regardless of the situation of your relationship. You’re sleeping in the same bed, feeling the familiar comfort of each other.

One night after mingle, your both just staring at the ceiling. You’re biting on your thumbnail. She knows something is up. Or you want to say something? She doesn’t know just yet. The unspoken conversation is looking and it’s ready to be had. You start it.

“I’m really sorry.” You say, quietly.

She looks over at you in confusion.

“Sorry? Sorry for what?” She responds.

“Whatever I did to make you leave. It was never my intention.”

Guilt washes over her. You think this was because of you? Her perfect girl? Never.

“Honey- no it was never because of you. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She says insistently. Almost like she’s trying to help you believe it.

You look up from her chest, eyes widened slightly.

“Wait what do you mean? Why did you leave then? What went so wrong?” you say as all of these thoughts flood into your head, coming out of your mouth like word vomit.

She put her hands on your shoulders to calm you as you both sit up, needing to do this face to face. You owe each other that much. You look into each others eyes, trying to unpack the feelings left unsaid.

“I- I left because I couldn’t face losing another person I loved. And I just so happen to love you the most. Losing you is something I don’t think I could recover from, so I wanted to remove you from my life before I could properly lose you.”

You stare for a moment, before a smile breaks out onto your face. Then a small giggle, almost sarcastic.

“Are you laughing at me? Oh my god-” Se-mi starts exasperatedly, hand clawing down her face to hide her embarrassment.

“No! No im not laughing at you.” You reassure her, your laughter slowly dying down as you say the sentence itself.

“I just find the situation we’re in ironic. We’re only here because we aren’t financially stable without each other, but we actually do need each other emotionally as it is.” You say with a smirk, looking into her eyes.

“Ugh it’s so annoying time has fucked us over. I wish we weren’t so stupid.” She says, staring at the ceiling again with you on her chest. This is the only thing that brings you comfort in this cruel reality. The reality of dying if you lose a game. A GAME. Your life is gone in seconds.

After a few more quiet exchanges, you slowly fall to sleep. You want to have the energy to digest any information given to you. The next game is starry night.

Once you enter, you must receive a ball from the machine. Se-mi gets a red and you, a blue much to your dismay. Your heart dropped when you saw what was in the box she was holding.

A knife.

“It’s okay” she mouthed to you. Of course she did. She always wants to make things better.

Before the blue team had a head start, she whispered to you “ everything is going to be okay. Don’t worry” before you being whisked away to hide.

You started running. You didn’t know where. How could you? Everything looked the same. You quickly found a room to wait in for the time being. You slid down the wall, spiralling. You were struggling for breath, biting your nails too. But you can’t do this. Not now. You need to be strong. The real fear began when you knew the reds were out hunting for blood.

You moved rooms once or twice since the timer began. During your first switch, you encountered Nam-gyu. He was ready to take you down, but you fought. Oh you fought. You knew you would die one day. Perhaps even that day. But you knew you weren’t dying at the hands of someone like that.

The timer ticked

There were 2 minutes left when she ran round the corner, crying. Her knife was clean. She hadn’t killed anyone.

She ran to you as soon as she saw you

“Baby I don’t know what to do. I haven’t killed anyone yet. There’s two minutes.” She sobbed.

The nickname was foreign. You hadn’t heard it from her lips in so long, but that wasn’t what was important right now.

You held her face looking into her eyes. She could read your mind by now. She knew what you were thinking.

Slowly, she starts to shake her head.

“No. Not happening. We get out together remember? We’re not doing this.” She said, almost angrily. Not at you though. Never at you. At the situation. The universe. All things getting between the both of you living the rest of your lives with each other.

You had come to terms with your decision. It had to be one of you.

Without warning, you push yourself onto the blade she’s holding. You know this is the right thing.

Blood begins to gush.

She stares at you wide eyed, tears beginning to fall.

“No no no no no- why the fuck would you do that? It’s supposed to be me and you forever.”

She holds you as your legs give out.

“Don’t leave me baby please, hang on. I need you. I’ll always need you. You can’t go, not now..”

She knows she’s won’t get a response

“Player 380- pass”

She refuses to let go. What do you mean the love of her life is gone? What do you mean you of all people sacrificed yourself to save her? What was the point of the breakup in the first place?

It doesn’t matter anymore. She still lost you.

Her beautiful girl.

She will never forgive herself for not protecting you.

If she did, you would still be here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: AHHH ITS FINALLY OUT!! I have such mixed feelings on this, so feedback and tips would be much appreciated. Keep the requests coming I love them so much (check out my character list on my pinned post 🤍). Thank you so so so much to the beautiful Nony who requested this. I hope I did it justice. Sorry it took so long too 🥹 (please also lmk if you spot any mistakes 🫶🏻)

Lots of love,

Sophie.

[spnbabe67]

Go Back to Strangers

Pairing: Stanford Era!Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Tags/Warnings: Angst with a capital A, Hurt/No Comfort, Violence, John Winchester and his physical/psychological abuse towards Dean, depictions of said abuse, a lil make-out sesh but no smut, a hint of spiciness but again nothing explicit (the line is thin), tickling, mentions of spit, Dual POV, No use of Y/N

Summary: Working at a library means you see a lot of characters coming through. But after you bump into a devastatingly handsome man, Dean, you fall head over heels. Too bad you aren't the most important thing in his life (as much as he wants to you be)

Word Count: 5k

Author's Note: Title and fic inspired by Strangers by Kenya Grace. I'm trying to write more x Reader fics so let me know what you think! Fun fact, I listen to all the bands I mention in this.

This fulfills the "Bitter Ending" prompt for @jacklesversebingo '24 and the "Right Person, Wrong Time" prompt for @anyfandomgoesbingo

Side note—I DO NOT condone AI usage. I only just recently found out how to use em-dashes and apparently they are signs of AI??? I can't believe I have to say this but I do NOT use AI in any form of my writing.

Dividers: (In Order of Appearance) Line Divider 1 by @olenvasynyt Line Divider 2 by @omi-resources SPN Divider by @talesmaniac89

Tag List: @zepskies

We’ve been here too long. 

At least that’s what Dad keeps grumbling to himself as we sit in the library in Jefferson City. It’s my first time in Missouri, at least that I can remember, and Dad is too focused on finding the thing that killed Mom to allow himself or me to really enjoy it. Uncle Bobby called just over two months ago, telling Dad about some lead here. 

So here we are, stuck in this stuffy library while Dad and I rifle through books on monster lore. 

Though, his bad mood isn’t just attributed to the complete lack of evidence. I look at the empty seat next to me, where Sammy should be. But no, he went off to Stanford almost 3 months ago, abandoning me and Dad and the search for the thing that killed mom. Something hot and tight curled tightly in my chest. My nostrils flared as I let out a short, frustrated breath. Sammy gets to go off and play lawyer while I’m stuck here with-

“Dean.” Dad’s voice cuts through my inner monologue causing a twinge of fear to wash over me, going as quickly as it came. I stared off into space too long apparently. “Focus, son. We need to get through these last books then we’re outta here.”

I muttered a confirmation, turning my eyes back to the book on the table in front of me, the pages soft at the edges, small water stains freckled the pages. A near empty notebook sat beside me, blue pen with a badly chewed cap stuck onto its end. It was one of many bad habits I’d never been able to kick. I ducked my head, pretending to scan the book on the table in front of me, but none of the ink printed on the pages registered. 

The thing was, I didn’t want to leave, at least not yet. Her eyes flashed in my mind’s eye, the unique hue of them, the way her hair tended to fall in front of them. Her perfume was stuck in my nose, having gotten a breathful when I leaned down to help her pick up her books. We’d bumped into each other as I was trying to keep up with Dad as he hustled his way up the stairs to the library when we’d gotten here. 

 Now, I had to admit, it didn’t take much to turn my head. But this girl, she was something different. It wasn’t the fast and hard lust that often came over me when flirting with the waitresses and bartenders and the odd witness on a hunt. This was different, new. And If I was being honest, I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. The way she smiled so softly made my heart ache. I wished I didn’t have to leave, but I had a job to do. 

Speaking of which…

“C’mon, son. Library’s closing soon.” Dad grumbled, checking his watch before starting to pack up our things, books included. We had a whole stack of library cards stashed for this very reason. They came in handy for late nights or, on very rare occasions, when Dad found a book he just had to have. In those cases, they were just never returned and the library called a dead number associated with a fake name and a false address.

As I stood, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I knew it wasn’t Sammy. He hadn’t reached out in months after we got into a fight. He’d told me he was gonna stay in Stanford over the summer break, and that he’d moved in with his girlfriend. Jess or Jane or something. A knowing grin spread across my face, accompanied by a warm, almost stifling feeling growing in my chest. I didn’t dare check it right then. 

Only once me and Dad made it back to the motel room and put in a delivery order. Guilt took millions of nibbling bites at me, both on behalf of leaving her waiting for a reply, and on the fact I was distracted from what I should be doing. I looked over at Dad, his frame slumped on one of the patterned chairs, weary eyes trained on some cop procedural show playing on the box TV. He was already two long necks in, a third tipped back nearly half gone. 

I eased my phone out of my pocket, seeing her message. I get off work in an hour. Want to take me driving?

An instinctual smile tugged at my lips. She knows me well. I checked my watch, seeing she’d be getting off of work right about now. I looked over at Dad, causing a daunting, dark cloud growing and eclipsing the light and airy feeling that manifested from her message. The way his posture, even three drinks in, was rigid, his grip on the bottle just a little too tight. 

My hand drifted to my cheek, not fully of my own volition and I could feel the detachment start. It was still slightly tender. A kind of dull flat itch when I touched it or layed too long on that side. Last time I checked, there was still faint discoloration there, mostly faded to blend in amongst the smattering of freckles across my face. 

It was a night not unlike this one. I’d said the wrong thing on the wrong night. Pushed him too hard. Distantly I could feel that floaty feeling flood around me, like I was back there, feeling the weight of his ring-clad hand crack across my face. Feel my body reel back, nearly falling to the ground with the force behind the blow. Warm blood trickled from my nose and the small cuts courtesy of the silver bands on his fingers where they’d torn into my face. 

Then, it was like I was dropped from a great height, the way I suddenly snapped back to the motel room. A fog that had been lifted and everything was clear again, only the ghost of an ache was left of the memory. 

These moods indicated a quiet violence, one I had twenty something years to learn the signs, learn how to redirect the drunken anger from Sammy. Now, with Sammy gone, I had less reasons, less excuses to dodge his fists and the words that stung nearly as much. The tried and true method? Get. The fuck. Out. Preferably silently and without trouble. But that was more wishful thinking than it was an expectation.

Pick you up at your place? I texted back, not waiting long before seeing her reply with the affirmative.

With one eye on Dad, I tucked my phone into my pocket before standing. I managed to throw on my jacket, palm the keys to the car and make it nearly to the door before Dad’s voice booming at me stopped me in my tracks.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

My heart dropped, an icy shot sent my spine ramrod straight. I prepared myself for whatever was about to come. A physical blow, a verbal lashing, both? Even in my twenties, Dad a few short years from fifty, he still could look me square in the eye. No matter how many times I told myself I’d never let him lay hands on me again, it just kept happening. 

“Out.” I said, hating the way it came out meekly.

“Not with my car you’re not.”

“You gave it to me.”

“Not to use to go screw whores and skip out on the job.” Dad’s voice started to raise and out of the corner of my eye I could start to see his hands clench into fists.

“I’m not twelve anymore, Dad.” I argued back, willing myself to stand straighter and not cower beneath his burning gaze. “You can’t just boss me around like this.”

“Or what?” There was a deadly quiet edge to Dad’s rebuttal and the little kid in me started to tremble, knowing I’d fucked up.

I blinked and then I was sent crashing back into the wall, my head bouncing painfully off the tackily wallpapered drywall. Dad had his hands fisted in the edges of my flannel and jacket, his face just inches from mine, spittle flying off his lips.

“Or what!” His eyes were wild with fury, his breath a hot cloud stinking of alcohol. “Answer me!”

He slammed me back into the wall hard enough I saw stars for a second, as if he thought it would get me to talk. I mustered every bit of mettle I possessed, my nostrils flaring as I stared him down.

“Or I walk.” I wasn’t even entirely convinced of my statement even as it came out of my mouth. “I-I’ll search for the thing on my own. Hell, maybe I’ll go try my hand at an apple pie life just like Sammy.”

I saw Dad’s anger flare, saw the thought of striking me pass him. But no, he was too mad for that. With a shove, he pushed off of me, stepping back.

“Be my fucking guest.” He sneered as I pushed away from the wall, grabbing my bag from my bed. “You’ll be back. We don’t survive out there. We hunt, or we die.”

I tried to ignore him the best I could as I shoved what little I’d unpacked back into my bag, b-lining it for the door.

“You walk out that door,” Dad called after me as I opened the door. “You’re no son of mine.”

And with that, some part of me didn’t care as I slammed the motel room door behind me.

You were standing outside your apartment building when the familiar rumble of Dean’s Impala met your ears. He pulled up, and it was almost like as soon as the car was in park, he was there grinning brightly, opening the passenger door for you.

“Sorry I’m late.” He murmured to you as you passed by him, pressing a kiss to his cheek before climbing into the car.

“It’s alright.” You responded once Dean had hustled back around the front of the car and sliding back in behind the wheel. “It took me longer to get ready than I anticipated so you would have been waiting on me anyway.”

You roll your window down as Dean pulls away from in front of the apartment building, driving off down the road. Stealing a glance over at him as he drove, the tension in his jaw, the way his hands gripped the steering wheel of his beloved car just a little too tightly was not lost on you. Neither was the faint bruise on his cheek.

He hadn’t told you what, exactly, he did for work. At one point, within the first days of you meeting, he vaguely described something that sounded like traveling sales; but sometimes, on the few occasions he talked further in detail about it, it read more like pest control. You’d be lying if you said you weren't curious, and perhaps a little concerned. Except every attempt at clarification ended in subtle redirection. 

What you did know, via reading between the lines, was that whatever he did was with his dad. Dean’s dad, you also deduced, was a huge source of his stress. 

Zeppelin played low in the background from a cassette Dean had popped into the stereo, serving as a backdrop as he asked you to tell him about your day. You provided him details of your job, a circulation desk receptionist. Occasionally you’d bitch about your mildly infuriating coworker who never spelled your name right in their emails despite having worked with them for over a year now.

Your ranting was slowly dying down when Dean pulled off the highway and onto one of the access roads. The Impala rumbled over the dirt coming to a stop in a little clearing not far from the main drag. One side was rows and rows of soybeans and the stretch of turf between you and the road was a sea of tall grass. A large oak stood alone with limbs that arched over the clearing, the waning moonlight filtering through the leaves. 

“Seriously, it’s in my salutations. And it’s in my email address. Open your fucking eyes, it’s not that hard.” You finished with a huff as Dean set the car in park.

“Common sense seems to be runnin’ in short supply these days, huh?” Dean threw his arm over the back of the seat, resting partially on your shoulders.

“Yeah.” the word was said in a sigh that kept the word dragging. “Yeah it is. But that’s not the point of tonight.”

“Sweetheart, you could talk about all the things that don’t make any sense to me and I’d still listen for as long as you’d let me.”

That grin. Fuck did it make your heart beat wildly. Pair that with the warmth radiating from his arm slung halfway over your shoulders, and you were having to make a conscious effort to keep your thoughts straight. A hot flush grew in your cheeks and you ducked your head a bit. The loose threads in your shorts had all of a sudden become very interesting as you picked and tugged at them

“I doubt you wouldn’t be able to figure out what I’m saying.” You uttered after a second, trying to sort through the rush of things to say, figuring out how to follow that. “You’re pretty smart, you’d be able to figure it out and keep up.”

Evidently, you’d picked the right response judging by the way his confident facade turned sheepish—bashful, even. He was smart. He played dumb, writing off his intelligence and not out of modesty. You guessed it had something to do with the too-cool image he presented as a front. 

He’d tried that when you first started talking, but the more you got to know him—the more he got to know you, that facade slowly dropped, leaving a dorky and very smart man in its wake. You much preferred the latter.

“You give me too much credit.” His voice had lost that cocky edge, something more vulnerable creeping in. 

“Nah, I give you the credit you deserve D.”

“C’mere.”

The arm that laid halfway over your back and shoulders curled tighter, pulling you to him. He was always gentle with you, something that had been a surprise given his rebel-without-a-cause exterior that made it seem like he should be spending more time in a dive bar than he did in a library. 

But maybe he did. You didn’t know. 

You didn’t particularly care, not when his lips captured yours. Immediate reciprocity was your reaction, kissing him back as you melted further into him. His hand found your hip, warmth radiating from his palm through your shorts, squeezing gently. You hummed into his mouth, the sound spurring him to do it again.

Sweeping your tongue into his mouth, you deepened the kiss. A little spark of pride within you was triggered as Dean let out a groan as you did so, his fingers gripping the denim of your shorts, the other hand sliding up into your hair to cradle the back of your neck.

The kiss was all tongue and teeth, both his and your hands exploring across each others bodies. The hard planes of his chest and abdomen slid under your palms. His hand on your hips traveled north, sliding under your t-shirt to rest skin on skin; the cool metal of his rings were an added difference in sensations as they pressed against your waist.

Unfortunately, you needed to breathe, which meant breaking the rhythm of your lips. As you reluctantly pulled away from him, a thin tendril of your mixed saliva stretched between the inches of space you'd given yourself to breath. It broke off, snapping back against Dean’s lips and part of his chin like a bungee cord. 

That man was gonna be the death of you, the way his hand left your hair and swiped the spit from his chin and lips and sucked it off them all the while keeping white hot eye contact with you. His coke-bottle green eyes had been nearly eclipsed by how blown out his pupils were. You were sure yours were too. 

Both of you had barely caught your breath before his hands were back on your hips, tugging you towards him. With some maneuvering you managed to settle into his lap. In the process you’d hit your head no less than 5 times and had bumped the steering wheel with your ass, causing the horn to beep at you, sending both of you into a fit of laughter

“That was smooth.” You snorted, scooting closer to him and away from the wheel.

Dean still grinned up at you, unphased by your snafu. “Shit happens.”

You hummed a noncommittal answer that could have been in agreement as you rested your forearms on the back of the seat, leaning in and brushing your lips against his once more. In this position, Dean had both hands firmly on your waist, fingers creeping under your shirt. They didn’t move upwards much past there, content on just resting under the cotton. 

As you kissed him, you could almost feel some of the tension dispel from him. He became less rigid, and even though you both breathed hot and heavy he still took air in and out easier than he had when he picked you up at the beginning of the night. 

Solace. Dean seemed to find it in you whether it was like this, with his lips on yours and hands roaming across each other's bodies, or if it was in the domesticity of watching Tombstone while eating take out pizza in your bed. In times like the latter, you watched with soft amusement as he would quote lines to you as if he had the script in front of him. Another of his quirks that just made you want to know him more, that wanted him to tell you more. 

You carded your fingers through his hair, dragging the blunts of your nails softly against his scalp. In turn, your skin grew goosebumps as Dean’s fingertips traced across your skin. It didn’t quite tickle, but you knew for damn sure you didn’t want him to stop it. A sound almost like a purr rumbled from your throat and you could have died of embarrassment. His answering low laugh against your mouth had you nipping at his lower lip before sucking it harshly.

But this time he did tickle you, wiggling his fingers against your side. Instantly, you pulled away, a shriek ripping from your kiss-swollen lips. Your head collided with the roof, but Dean didn’t relent. Flinching back so hard you fell back partially against the wheel, it honked at you once more, almost in insult. A string of expletives followed as you were trapped between Dean’s teasing and the steering wheel.

“I yield! I yield!” You were nearly in tears via uncontrollable laughter.

Thankfully, Dean accepted your white flag, returning his hands to a neutral position on your hips. Chest heaving as you sucked in breath, you rolled your head side to side, arching your back in a stretch you sighed.

“As much fun as I’m having,” You grumbled, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth. “I think this party should move beyond the driver's seat of your car. Fucking cramped up here.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” Dean snickered. “Poor Baby here has been battered enough.”

Your jaw dropped, eyes going wide in an incredulous look. You smacked his chest with the back of your hand. Rolling off his lap and into the passenger seat, you hid the amusement pulling at your lips. “Asshole.”

Dean chuckled, reaching across the space between you, laying a hand on your knee. His thumb rubbed the side of it in languid sweeps. “I’m just playin’, Sweetheart.”

“I know.” You pressed your knee into his hand, encouraging him to continue.

As Dean started the Impala up, pulling back off the access road and onto the main drag, you grabbed the shoe box that was overflowing with cassette tapes. Flipping through them, you read the names on each one. Some you knew, and listened to frequently: Metallica, Motley Crue, Black Sabbath, AC/DC. Others you’d heard of, but not listened to, like Motorhead, Quiet Riot and Van Halen. And of course there was an abundance of Zeppelin.You plucked the …And Justice For All cassette, one of your favorite Metallica albums.

Dean nodded as you ejected the previous Zeppelin cassette and replaced it with your selection. “Good choice. Though house rules say I get to pick the music, I think I’ll let it slide for you.”

“Why thank you.” You tapped your finger against the windowsill in time with the first song.

“Hey,” Dean spoke after a few minutes, both of you sitting and listening to the music. “When we get to your place, mind if I crash there for the night.”

Your brows furrowed, tilting your head inquisitively. “Of course. Is-is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Things with my dad aren’t great at the moment and I can’t go back there right now.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say, so you said nothing at all. Instead, you slid your fingers between his hand and where it was still resting on your knee. Sliding your hand into his, interlocking your fingers, you gave it a squeeze. His answering squeeze was all you needed to know that he got the message.

That would explain the tension that had him wound up tighter than a garage door spring, the absent, distant look he had when he drove you out to the field, and now as he was driving you back. Why he was late picking you up. 

The rest of the drive back to your apartment was uneventful. Dean had fallen silent and you knew better than to push, respecting that boundary that he didn’t need to speak out loud to set in place. It had been an easy quiet, just the two of you and the music. 

At one point in the drive it had started raining. Lightly at first, but by the time Dean pulled into the spot you directed him to park in, the sky had opened up and it was pouring down rain. In the twenty foot run from the car to the front of the apartment building, both of you were thoroughly soaked.

You more so than Dean, his leather jacket shielding his upper body from the downpour. But as soon as you made it up to your apartment on the second floor, he shook his head, which in your mind likened him to a German Shepherd. In the process, he was spraying water everywhere, including on you. 

You giggled, putting your hands up to block the droplets, though it was a moot point. He had the gall to look sheepish, even though the glint in his eyes suggested that it was very much intentional. After showing him where the bathroom was, letting him change out of his wet clothes, you moved into your bedroom. You shucked off your wet clothes, hanging them over a chair to dry a little before throwing them in the hamper. 

Not long after you’d shimmied into a pair of soft sweat pants and t-shirt and climbed into your bed, Dean padded sock-footed into your room, his hair still damp but otherwise dry. You couldn’t help but stare. It was a side of him you hadn’t seen of him before. 

Dressed only in boxers and a black henley that hung loose over his frame, it was a far cry from how he usually presented himself. The only way you’d seen him dressed was in that armor that consisted of jeans, flannels and that leather jacket. He looked…soft.

It didn’t register that he said anything until you heard him call your name. You blinked, blushing knowing you’d been caught.

“Hmm? Sorry.”

“I said, you could take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

You rolled your eyes, but it wasn’t a half bad idea. You leaned over to the nightstand by your bed. You rummaged around until your fingers grazed smooth metal. Whirling around, before Dean had a chance to react, you raised up the small camera, taking a picture.

The flash caught him by surprise, his head jerking back. But, still, he just shook his head with a closed-lipped smile. “Course you’d have a camera on standby.”

“What can I say? I am full of surprises.”

Dean hummed in acknowledgement as he slowly started walking over to the bed. Sleep wore heavily on him, like as soon as he let his guard down enough to relax all the weight that he carried manifested. You knew what that was like, keeping yourself busy enough to forget the hard things, to distract from all the doubts and insecurities that would otherwise play on repeat like a radio. 

The bed dipped beside you under his weight. He settled in, pulling the covers over himself. An ache sprung in your chest as you saw that he appeared hesitant, gingerly handling the sheets, hunching his shoulders like he was trying to shrink himself. 

“Dean.” You said softly.

Sliding down to lay on your side, you beckoned him to come lay beside you. He murmured your name, a weak protest against the vulnerability. Arms still open, you didn’t budge. If he truly didn’t want to lay here that close, then you wouldn’t force him.You didn’t think you could force him to do anything, even if you wanted to. But you knew that look, and maybe you didn’t know all the details, but you didn’t need to. 

That mental tether frayed, then snapped, and with a breath Dean shifted over allowing you to wrap your arms around his wide torso. His breath ghosted across your skin as he buried his face in the crook where your neck met your shoulder. One of your hands threaded through his hair in slow strokes, the other making small circles on the small of his back.

His arms wound around your waist, clinging to you. You welcomed it, the feeling of his body against yours. He was so warm, and you felt safe. Logically, probably you shouldn’t, having only known him for 2 months, but you did. It was like nothing could hurt you here. Some sneaking feeling said he felt the same. The way he leaned into your touch, like a silent request to continue. 

So you did, until his warm breath against your neck slowed and evened out. But even in sleep his grasp on you never faltered. To the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the warmth of his body pressed against yours, you let your eyes close, falling into the embrace of sleep, hoping that maybe in your dreams he’d be there too.

The cellphone buzzing in my pocket was unnaturally heavy. Guilt, regret, shame, all of them were like rocks dropped in my pocket to sink me down into the depths of all the things I knew would keep me up at night for decades to come.

I knew it was her. She’d already sent me more texts than I cared to think too long about and even more calls. The last one I read before becoming unable to look at them anymore said Please, just let me know you’re okay. I could see the tears in the letters, feel her pain in each word, regret slamming into me over and over. 

It took everything for me to not text her back, to let her know I was okay, but I knew if I did that, it wouldn’t be a clean break. She deserved a clean break, a clean cut. Clean cuts always healed easier, left nicer scars, if any at all.

Dad hadn’t been hard to find. I knew he’d be at the little breakfast nook down the street from the motel getting his coffee, black, and a sandwich. We were on the road again. He had praised me when I met him at the diner. Said I’d made the right decision. It made me sick, so much so that I didn’t dare get anything to eat or drink outside of a bottle of water. 

I wasn’t so sure it was the right decision, though. But that entire night, even curled up next to her I couldn’t stop seeing all the monsters, seeing the flames engulf Sammy’s nursery, then the house. I had a job to do, if not for Dad, not for myself or Sam, then for Mom. 

I started as a knock came from the window. Dad stood outside, his GMC parked next to mine. He held a hand up, making a thumbs up gesture. I nodded, giving one back before starting Baby up. The purr of her engine comforted me some, but nowhere near the degree I needed it to. Baby was more of a home than one made of brick and mortar; the leather upholstery had cradled my head more than a proper pillow ever had, and probably ever would. 

My phone buzzed again, and again I ignored it. I couldn’t subject her to this life. I knew too much, had too much I needed to do. She deserves better—a person with a stable job that pays in money and not in bruises and cuts. This was my life, and as much as I hated to acknowledge it, Dad was right. Chances were I would die in this life, on a hunt, taken out by some creature that was only real to most people in their nightmares.

So, I shifted Baby into drive, following Dad out of the parking lot. We’d never come back here to Jefferson City. We never hit a city twice. And as we passed by the library on the way out, some part of me hoped to catch a glimpse of her, a reminder that no matter how much I wanted out, I wanted something more.

But I didn’t, and somehow, that fit. Because she was the right person, but there’d never be the right time. Not for me.

I stayed up way too late to get this published. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed this. Feedback is encouraged!

[kabr0ztrousers]

Can we pls get an android who maybe just got rebooted/ transferred to his body and he's still exploring it w his scientist and then he finds his pp and really really wants to try it out (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠) fem or gn reader doesn't matter as long as they have holes!!

Kabr0z Writes Episode 165: Cold Boot

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

Ao3!

CWs: Robot fucking; Overstim; Technobabble; Being outsmarted

A/N: Fucking the Android twink from Detroit: Become Human, but with the serial numbers filed off and he's not a cop. He has however been planning to have his way with you for a while, which is convenient because that's exactly what you want

##########################################

You crossed your fingers, sending the command to initiate boot. The data transfer had worked, at least according to the reports, so there shouldn’t be any issues, but until those first readings started coming through. You saw the POST results jump on screen, all systems nominal.

Good. At least you haven’t bricked his BIOS.

The CPU fans in his chest whirred to life as the processor started to flex its muscle. Your graphs tracked the load on his hardware, always higher at the start as his operating system loaded dozens of systems and subsystems into RAM. Even as numbers settled down to nominal values, your heart was in your mouth until you saw it.

Adam’s fingers twitched first, software testing actuators. A gentle rise and fall of his chest simulated breathing. Then his eyes opened. Blank and unfocused at first, before flicking to you

“Hello Sarah. I see the upgrade was successful. Can you please tell me the time?”

His voice was softer than his last body, European-style rather than American. You’re glad he went for the gentler synthesizer rather than keeping his old one

“It is Thirteen-oh-eight right about… now. You know you can just query a time server once we connect you to the wifi, right?”

“I know. I just like asking you.” His smile was easy, soft blue eyes creasing slightly as he pulled the connectors from the ports in his head. “Got the network details?”

You handed him a card with a QR code printed on it. He barely regarded it

“Ask me something.”

“Uh, who was the seventh president of France”

“Félix Faure, who served until his death in 1899.” That smile broadened “Damn I love Wikipedia”

You laughed and jumped on him, landing in his arms “You massive goob, you should be installing your drivers, not going on a wiki binge”

“I can do both” he smoothed your hair “Besides, what’s the point of knowing literally everything and not showing off a little?” His eyes flickered a moment, a furrow appearing on his brow

“Everything alright? Or do I need to adjust your repo?”

Instead of answering, he peered down the neck of the surgical gown you'd dressed him in “Did that come standard on this chassis? I don't remember seeing it on the brochure”

“I may… uh… May have got you a gift” You hadn't meant for him to notice it quite so soon. Maybe you should've realised it'd show up when he scanned for driver updates. Maybe a small part of you wanted it like that.

“It's appreciated, don't get me wrong. I just wasn't expecting to wake up and be quite so anatomically correct.” His head tilted as he thought a second. Or rather, he pretended to think. He'd already played out this game of social chess in his head, selected the perfect move. You'd been check-mated as soon as he turned on.

It took your breath away, every time.

“It feels a little strange if I'm honest, Sarah. Most friends don't know what each other's genitalia look like”

That you weren't sure about, you'd met men. “Well, maybe we could try being… More?”

A slight twitch at the corners of his mouth. His eyes widening a fraction. A thousand other micro-expressions his new face let him make. Not that you picked up any of them. Your eyes were locked on his, mind racing, heart drumming. You'd known you were robosexual for years, but actually admitting it was tough, especially facing down the perfect machine that had been putting butterflies in your stomach for months now.

“I could be… Open to the idea.” His hand covered yours, cold and smooth.

You allowed yourself to be turned around, pushed into the chair he was reclining in until so recently. Strong hands undid your jeans, slipping you free from the coarse fabric. A gasp escaped you as your legs parted.

Simulated skin brushed against your slit as he felt you, sighing in satisfaction. Long, cool fingers caressed your cunt, spreading the wetness that already seeped from you before sliding inside. He twisted and turned within you, responding to the sounds you made, finding the places where your eyes crossed and your toes started to curl.

You were already a sweaty mess, whining and grasping at him, blurry eyes meeting his clear blue ones as a jolt shook your body

“Please”

He smiled that serene smile, carefully selected from dozens. You realise now what he was selecting for, to find the perfect one for you.

The patient gown fell from narrow shoulders, revealing his body. He'd chosen a swimmer’s physique, narrow hips, narrow shoulders, subtly defined muscle glistening in the fluorescent lights of your workshop. Adam leaned over you, pulling your hips towards him. His cock parted the soft folds of your pussy, slowly burying itself in you. You gasped, holding onto his sides, feeling the imitation flesh under your hands.

You moaned when it started to vibrate. You'd forgotten that was one of the features. His hips thrust in perfect rhythm, pulsing the vibrations to match his fucking you. Your ankles locked around his back, keeping him buried inside as he drove you on to another wailing peak.

You knew he wouldn't have to stop. Most men cum, then have to wait before they can go again. Adam wasn't most men. You were here until one of you decided you were done, either until you tap out, or pass out.

Over and over you came, breathless moans slipping from you as tears ran down your cheeks. More than once he paused to make sure you were alright, only for you to reply by trying to fuck yourself on him.

By the time you were done, you were gasping for breath. A bruised, sensitive pile of twitching limbs.

“Adam” you breathed

“Yes, Sarah?”

“I love you”

Adam smiled down at you, stroking your hair

“I know”

[luck-of-the-drawings]

when i was in highschool one o my biggest coping mechanisms was drawing all the kids i hated getting killed and eaten and killed. and well. time is a slowly ascending spiral. you will find patterns.(i work as a blackjack dealer. gamblers are FASCINATING

[turtlemagnum]

one of my favorite parts of strategy games like chess and advance wars is that feeling when you haven't quite won yet but the enemy has no real options so it feels like you're just sloowly wrapping around them like a snake. when all your enemy has is their king and you've managed to turn 3 of your pawns into queens, and all you've gotta do is get in juust the right position, and in the meantime all they can do is squirm. god, that's such a wonderful feeling. nothing quite like it

[yakny]

nearly broke down when I remembered I had these wips and couldn't find them amongst my many other wips. thought i lost them when my hard drive wiped itself cleaned :'D

[shrewdbunny-art]

I spent like 5 minutes writing the tags and then realized that he was holding fuckibg photo slides and not a deck for cards I'm gonna do something meteorologist are gonna study for decades

[suksatoru]

"if you can hear me, chosen one, give me your strongest kick."

you lift your gaze from the book page pinched between your fingers and offer satoru an unimpressed glare. as scolding as you try to appear, there's a hint of a smile tugging your lips upward at his ridiculously adorable antics.

"i think our princess might be napping," he hums, pressing a flurry of kisses over the swell of your stomach as you squirm under his touch, wiggling your toes.

"you're going to be late, satoru! weren't you supposed to leave fifteen minutes ago?"

"hahh?"

he drops his face back onto your stomach gently, sighing happily as his hand glides over the soft bump. you decide to let him lie with you for a little while longer—the soft smile etched onto his face was far too precious to disturb.

"i'll text nanami and let him know you'll be a bit late to the mission, okay?" you say softly, carding a hand through his platinum locks as he hums softly, lashes fluttering close.

satoru talked to the baby in your belly quite often—even going as far as having full-on conversations with her. there had been countless nights where you stirred awake only to hear his silky sweet voice muffled against your stomach, all while he gazed starry eyed at the gentle curve of your stomach in front of him.

satoru's dearest dream had always been to have a family. it was a quiet truth he wouldn't ever dare to speak into existence because it didn't seem possible in any universe—but somehow, he stumbled upon a way. and now he gets to spend his evenings like this with you.

satoru's boundless affection during your pregnancy will forever be something you would be grateful for. the fondest thing you would look back on would have to be the endless amount of baby clothes he got—satoru had even purchased a matching set of onesies for all three of you to wear. typical satoru. he was adamant about making sure the three of you would have a bunch of pictures together as a family so he'd be able to send everyone he knew those corny holiday cards he always saw on tv—the only reason you remember that moment from so long ago right now is because of the phone call you received.

"hello?" you speak in a hushed tone, rocking the ivory haired baby in the crib next to you gently as you hold your phone between your cheek and shoulder.

"hello! is this mrs. gojo? i'm calling to confirm your family photoshoot scheduled for next week. it's the two hour session. it looks like you scheduled it a little over a year ago?" her voice comes to life through the phone, and your rocking slows to a stop.

"oh," is all you can manage at first.

you hear the sound of her typing come to a slow stop as she waits for your response. you resume rocking your daughter's crib before answering.

"i'm sorry, but it seems like my husband forgot to cancel the appointment."

she goes on a bit of a tangent, gently scolding you because the company was extremely busy with numerous photoshoots and you had canceled so last minute—but she promised to get it fixed and have the money refunded as soon as possible.

the line beeps quietly when you drop the call, and your hand feels perpetually numb as you drop your phone into your lap.

you rub at the sting that blinds your eyes a second later before rising on wobbly legs, not checking if your baby is asleep as you stumble towards your bedroom's balcony door and slide it open. you tuck your knees under you on the ground and rest your head against the railing, allowing the cool metal to be pressed against your cheek as you take a steadying breath.

you were nearing the one year anniversary of satoru's death and, quite stupidly at that, thought you'd be in a better condition by now. but his presence was irreplaceable—and it was moments like this where you were reminded how painful it was to lose your soulmate in the blink of an eye.

the night air kisses your cheek, whipping your hair around gently as it falls over your eyes—and the sensation is uncannily familiar to the way satoru's slender fingers would play with your hair and tickle your cheek whenever he was in a particularly playful mood.

the night traffic flowing beneath you fades to nothing as the wind whirls around you—but, it felt like if you closed your eyes hard enough, strained your ears as much as possible—then maybe you could make yourself believe that the whistling wind whizzing past your ear was satoru's voice lulling the ache in your chest away instead.

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're a Star

Art in the banner by Kerravi on x!

Summary- You meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood party, insanely out of place, waiting for your friend to show up. The two of you hit it off, spending time together, and share a kiss, but you're a good girl, and you just don't do this, but he is the top pornstar there is, and the top .01 % on OnlyFans. Once you find out, you know there's probably no match, as Satoru doesn't date, and you don't sleep around, but after meeting, you keep in touch- and soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream of the boy you like. Just how will that go for you both!?

Warnings- emotional, lots of feelings, regrets, mentions of depression (reader) mentions of each other's past, MUCH fluffier than the last one, slow burn is still being a slow burn, character development (we love to see it) and some kissing/making out, sexual tension WC this chap- 10k

A/N- Taglist closed- please comment/rb if you enjoy <3

<<<Chapter Five - Masterlist- Playlist- Chapter Seven>>>

Chapter Six

“I need a change of career.” He says again, and his manager sighs, shaking their head, as one of the directors comes up.

“Modeling, I have an agency.” He hands Satoru a card, and Satoru’s manager covers his face for a moment.

“Like nude modeling?” Satoru asks.

“Sure, or any kind, look at your bone structure? You’d make good money.” Satoru holds the card, flipping it around.

He was always a pornstar, for his adult life.

Can he do more than that?

He has more than enough money to damn near retire.

But how the fuck could he get you to forgive him for what he did, how could he ever get you back? Now that he realizes there is no one in the world for him but the girl he’s wronged. The one who doesn’t even realize how much he cares, because he’s not even said it, never articulated it. The girl who now wants nothing to do with him, how does he just let that go?

“Some people get burnt out,” Satoru’s manager mumbles, putting a hand on Satoru’s shoulder then. “Modeling huh, I’ll get some contacts together, and we’ll see about some different shoots for you.”

Satoru exhales in relief, what once felt like a perfect career truly felt like a fucking prison now. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah, put on some fucking clothes.” Satoru smiles a bit, heading to the dressing room, looking at your name, your picture.

The sweet one with your big glasses, with your little peace sign, a sweet innocent thing he fell for, that he selfishly let be corrupted by his own needs and desires. And now he can’t help but have his own regrets, remembering you that night, the anger on your face, the way you kissed him anyway, the way you bit his lip so angry, dressed so fucking slutty that night.

He’d changed you, possibly forever, and you changed him, in ways you didn’t even fucking know. How the fuck can he just let you go?

*****

Six months since you said goodbye to Satoru Gojo

Being without Satoru made you realize how empty you were before him, god how much you miss him - how horrible you feel for sending away the man you love. How stupid you feel, there are so many times you look at his number, you changed his name to just Satoru now. Once, you got drunk and texted him, panicking when you realized that you had.

I am sorry.

That was the text, not some nude or something madly embarrassing, it was a simple apology. He’d written back to you the next day.

Don’t apologize.

That alone broke you down further, there was so much beauty in Satoru Gojo, so much sweetness there that you miss so desperately. How can you not miss him, the images spilling through your mind of Satoru behind you in that mirror - both times he had been. One at that club under heady lights, pleasuring you and whispering desperate in your ear- the other him being tender, sweet, caring.

That was the duality of him - the moments he broke down, and you saw so much more you wanted to know. Peel the layers back of who he was- ultimately, you didn’t know him any more than he knew you. It’s a reason you’re beating yourself up internally, wondering if you put too much on him.

But the love confessions that spilled from your lips?

You meant every word.

It didn’t matter that you didn’t know him completely yet, it was everything you felt from the moment he caught your eyes at the party. It was everything about him, how your lips felt against his, how you felt when he looked at you with those eyes - so beautiful, special, loved by his actions. Did the words matter so much?

They did matter to you, or you wouldn’t have pulled back. The days go by, the weeks go on, the months pass - it’s fall in LA now, it’s lovely and in the seventies, you’re just stuck inside today. Many, many days you do this, wallow in front of your couch, watch the same movies on repeat, over and over, falling asleep and dreaming of him, only to wake up from it and realize it’s gone.

The fact that you did this to yourself hurts more, that you pushed him away to find yourself, but are you finding yourself? You changed in ways you can’t go back to, you changed for him but also because of him, you’re just not the same girl. As you watch Casablanca for the millionth time, and Humprhey Bogart tilts up Ingrid Bergman’s chin, you’re in a mess of tears like you’ve never seen it.

You’ll always love him, won’t you?

You ended up cutting back graphic design hours, and soon you were dabbling more in photography. Though you had done a couple shoots with Jenna, you wanted to dabble in much more. Through some pretty good connections with the company you ended up quickly making a name for yourself, the money was good and you were diving into something full on.

The distraction was so needed for everything in your life, you know that you need to focus on something and maybe the pain will lessen from losing Satoru. You always wonder if he’s okay, if he’s doing well, you can’t help but ask yourself at times. Jenna ended up telling you he called that night, and for a while you were upset she didn’t let you talk to him.

But you think you understand, she just cares a lot. But to see you like this, still after months - shit, half a year - she mentions it again.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you said last night. “I just… can’t.”

“I did hear he left the industry, shut down his OF,” she murmurs, eyeing the mess you are on the couch and frowning, she’s asked to clean for you numerous times, but you always refuse.

Your house is spotless, but your couch is where it’s real, the pain, the hopelessness you feel.

“I wonder if I was too harsh.” She says, her words surprising you then.

“Maybe you were, but it’s for the best I suppose.” You cuddle a plushie, resting your chin on it and sighing. “Even without the profession, I don’t know if he returned my feelings.”

So that was where the two of you left it. Even if Jenna should have let you talk to him and didn’t hide it, nothing had changed from that fact. Nothing changed when you told him you loved him, and all he said in return was that he wanted you. The feelings couldn’t align themselves.

The past six months were a blur, parts where you’re enthusiastic and so energetic, and many parts where you’re devastated and lethargic. The pain of not having him rips your soul apart, everything feels wrong about not being in his arms, you second guess yourself constantly.

Should you have kept it all going, should you have just let it be physical and held back your feelings? You could have been some OF power couple, in his arms and earning his praise - being his star. Sometimes you wonder if you were more okay with filming than you thought, and it scared you - but another part knows that just isn’t who you are.

You don’t touch yourself and think of him, you just don’t touch yourself at all, there’s nothing to be turned on about anymore. It’s like it was before you met him, except even little books and smut stories do nothing for you. All you picture is him in everything you read, to the point you find no joy in it, another thing about you fading in the haze of depression.

You know you’ve taken it too seriously, the feelings, the moments, the nights in his arms. You’ve let it consume you, and though you maybe ‘know yourself’ better from this, it doesn’t make it any happier, any easier. Every night you think of calling him, of just talking to him, but there could never be ‘just friends’ with him. You’re too deep in your feelings.

You want him in your life, so badly and tangibly, and it can’t just be fleeting - if it were, why is it still here, half a year later? Why does he dance through your fucking mind on repeat, living in your brain rent free, his big grin and just how sweet he was when you two were together. The way his hand caressed your cheek, you can still feel it there when you touch it.

When you look at the mirror you just look tired, the sparkle isn’t in your eyes, the color isn’t there, you brush on a little blush and add some mascara before a really big shoot, to look human. You practice a smile, you are truly excited, it’s a big opportunity for a huge magazine, and the first truly big one for you. You just have to shove down the gnawing feeling that’s always there.

Did you really make the right decision letting him go? Couldn’t you have tried to hear him out, to give him the chance?

The thoughts race as you head to the shoot, but when don’t they? When don’t you second guess your actions, wishing you’d been more upfront to begin with. Maybe Satoru didn’t know you fell in love, or maybe he didn’t believe it, maybe that wasn’t something he was ready for. You shove the thoughts back as you meet everyone, and that’s when you see him.

A head taller than everyone, the pretty face of the man you fell for, he’s wearing some insanely expensive suit opened up at the chest, buttoned down enough to show his bare chest, chiseled and cut as you remember. He isn’t smiling brightly, but he has a little tight curve to those plump lips, as he runs a hand through locks that look just a little lavender under the lights.

Your heart stops in your chest as the director calls you over, and his eyes catch yours, just like that night. His lips part just so, hands tensing at his sides, blinking snowy lashes so quickly like you’re an illusion. Your pulse races in your ears, you expected to hurt when you saw him again, you imagined you’d pass him by in a street one day perhaps.

But you didn’t expect the tenderness, the way you just want to hold his hand in yours is so vivid you barely bite back your emotions. You plaster on that smile, as you introduce yourself, and the girl with him is so sweet as she shakes your hand. The director explains the vision to you, as the people help decorate the set, and you’re finally there with Satoru.

He just stands there, staring at you so intensely, you feel it like a touch, you look down nervously, fiddling with your hands in front of yourself, as he drinks in the sight in front of him. “Still biting that lip,” he murmurs softly, you gasp a bit at it, eyes locking then. “You’ll have permanent marks there.”

“I think I already do,” your voice feels too good to his ears, it makes him ache as you speak, smiling so nervous, very much the girl he met that night. The different girl who just made everything stop, and you still have that effect on him, you still after all this time make his heart race. “You look amazing.”

“Makeup is weird,” you laugh softly, the sound like a punch to the gut for him. Just that sound alone, he’s missed so vividly, he realizes it then, how much he missed every part of you. It wasn’t just that desire for your body, though that’s there, it was little things like how the lights are hitting your hair, how your smile breaks his heart. “I really wanted to…”

“Me too.” You manage, the both of you don’t say it, not when you’re being pulled in different directions for a moment, but you feel it, everything he doesn’t say.

He missed you too. You can feel it. You can feel him, so close, his scent in your nostrils, the familiar cologne that you miss. He’s talented already, the poses he makes are beyond someone in this for a few months, impressive as he works everything, every angle so well. You can’t help but be so happy for him, to see him like this.

You know he enjoyed porn surely, but you remember the calls and demands stressing him out, it seems he’s a little more natural at this, a little awkward here and there when you’d ask him to touch the model and interact. But he picked up on that as well, you hear that most of his shoots were alone so far, so this was a huge one for him too.

To get a cover of this magazine was something anyone would covet, you can’t help but feel proud of him, smiling as you snap photos. Not a fake smile, a real one, for the first time in so long, knowing he was okay, knowing how badly you needed the reassurance that he was. Your heart aches deeper, ever deeper while you watch him look at your camera, smiling just so.

He’s heartbreakingly beautiful behind your lens.

Satoru struggles to focus on what you say, on anything, when you’re in there with him, when all he can think of is how badly he wants to hold you in his arms again. Things just were different now, like a piece of him was missing constantly, for a moment the void is full by just seeing you. He always wondered if you were good, if you were doing better, not getting hurt by him anymore.

Then he thought other things, of wildly showing up to your house, of begging you on his knees to take him back. Of asking you out truly and not whatever foolish shit he said to you. ‘A friend’ you were never just that, not from the moment he blew that smoke into your mouth and you trusted him so implicitly. The moment you left him was still the hardest blow he’s had.

A couple weeks hurt him more than the years with his only other girlfriend, and you two weren’t even ‘together’. But it hurt more than anything he could even try to explain, the thoughts racing constantly. Could he have said more, given you more, the longing is so tangible it takes his breath, while you work on posing them again, and take some shots from different angles.

“Tilt her chin up just a bit,” you murmur softly, as Satoru’s bright, swirling blue eyes look right at you, rather than the pretty model in front of him, and it’s like you can feel his touch, as if it’s your chin he’s gripping. “Look at her lips.”

You give a gentle direction, clearly pointing out the obvious, that Satoru can’t get his eyes off the girl he hasn’t seen in months, the one he dreams of every night. How can he see anyone else in the room? With a giant, fancy black canon camera, you bend down, snapping a picture, he stares in his peripherals as you do, then you’re on your knees, getting another angle.

He has wondered how you were, god he didn’t want to ruin your life any further, but being this close to you makes him ache, in so many ways. How your hair falls over your shoulder, how you angle your head to study them, now walking up and smiling, turning the model so she faces away from him. You brush her hair forward over a shoulder, taking Satoru’s hand then.

That’s when he feels it, like a shock rushing through him as you pause for a moment, giving him a sweet, sad little smile. “Touch her waist,” you put his hand there, and take her hand now, turning her. “And you look at him like this… perfect.”

You walk back to take another few photos, and you thought maybe after so long it wouldn’t hurt, but it does, like a fresh wound opening. You’re so proud of him for being at this quality of a shoot, but you can’t help but wish you were the one in his arms, even now. There’s not one night in the past months that he hasn’t haunted one of your thoughts - all of the what-ifs.

The shoot wraps up and everyone chit chats for a bit, you’re packing your camera up in your bag when he steps up to you, that black dress shirt half tucked in and unbuttoned, showing too much of a perfectly sculpted body made for modeling. You feel your cheeks heat up as you trail your eyes up and catch his boring into you the way that only he can.

“You’re a photographer now?” He asks softly, his tone is just so different from last time, from the cocky and conceited man, the smirk on his face replaced with parted lips, eyes studying you so intensely. You nod a bit. “That’s so badass, look at you.”

“Look at me, you’re modeling now.” You say softly, smiling up at him as his hand goes to touch your cheek, but pauses, knowing it’s not his place to do so.

Were you with anyone? Did someone treat you like you deserved?

Even if you were, god he just missed you, the presence, the lingering sweet scent in the air - those cupcakes you always smelled like, intoxicating. To imagine caressing your cheek he sees tint with color, to hear your little laugh again, rather than the tears he left you in. He clears his throat, letting his hand fall, flexing his fingers open as he sighs.

“I am… I don’t do… I changed careers.” He manages to say softly, you blink a bit in surprise at that.

“You don’t do um,” you trail off, clearing your throat. “You don’t shoot at all?” You’d heard rumors from Jenna that he quit, but she wasn’t sure if it was true. You hate the relief you feel when you shouldn’t. He shakes his head now, bringing you back. “Do you miss it?”

“No, it wasn’t for me anymore.” His voice gets husky, stepping just a bit closer as the workers take apart the set, but everything fades but him.

It’s always like this, the never ending need for him.

You feel like half your heart is standing right in front of you.

“Do you enjoy modeling, Satoru?” To hear his name from your lips makes his heart race, he nods quickly. “Then I’m very happy for you. I wondered how you were,” you blink back tears, and he catches sight of them glimmering under the set lights. “I think of you often.”

The words are there, you are afraid of them, but also you’re so tired of holding it all in. He steps even closer, making you swallow nervously, leaning down a bit, a hand now brushing your hair back from your face. The contact alone of his fingers brushing through your strands makes your heart hammer in your chest, eyes locking with his.

“I think of you every damn day,” his hoarse voice is so genuine, you’re so afraid to trust it, to believe it, but you feel it, something has changed in him. “I would love to just know how your life is going. If you’d just please, have coffee with me? Or just anything in the world you want.”

“Satoru,” he caresses your cheek now, uncaring of the eyes around you both, the little murmurs, his eyes are locked all on you, as he brushes aside a tear you didn’t realize slipped. “You really just want to know me?”

“I do, I want to know you, even if we catch up and you never talk to me again, maybe it’s what I deserve.”

“You don’t-”

“I do not deserve any time. But please,” his own eyes shut, as he feels you trembling as his hand slips down your arm, over bare skin. “I want to know you’re good, that you’re okay, just anything you want to share with me.”

You turn away for a moment, and he curses under his breath, afraid of your answer, but you’re swiping tears, trying to compose yourself. You feel so much in that moment, in how deeply you still love him, that you just have to take a moment, before turning back around, eyes glimmering as you catch him, staring down at his feet, nervous like you.

“I’d love to catch up, I’d love to know how your life is,” you almost break down, blinking tears as his eyes meet yours again. “How about now?”

“Now!? Shit, yes. Now.” You giggle a bit, as he smiles, so boyish and charming, splitting your heart into a million pieces as he takes your hand, pausing. “Is that okay if I…”

“Yes,” you nod, and he tugs you along, you hear whispers of the models around, who surely all had crushes on him, but Satoru’s attention is undividedly on you. as your heart races in your chest. Your fingers intertwined as he brings you to his car now. “Satoru you drive?”

“I do.” He smiles a bit, brushing his fingers across the sleek Mercedes. “She’s my baby.”

“Is she now?” He grins and nods, opening the door. “I thought you had no license, honestly.”

“I’m wounded! No, I just don't usually drive, this car is special. Here,” he latches your seat belt in, your breath catches, he's so close you feel flustered by him. He comes to sit and smiles at you. “Where too, my lady?”

“Your lady hmm,” you're teasing but the words melt you. There's so much unsaid between you both that you don't think coffee is going to cover it, but you're willing to try it as a first step. “The one by my place? I stress baked cupcakes I can give you when you drop me off.”

“How many this time?” He chuckles as he turns, backing up. It's crazy to even see Satoru holding a steering wheel, it's far too attractive. 

“Like only three dozen. And I have brownies.”

“Pot brownies?”

“No!” You both laugh again, it's so fucking natural, it's so easy to be with him like this. Like the night you met him.

It gets a little quiet then, as you sit in the traffic, and he puts on his music from his phone. It's a quiet song, filling the new silence as the two of you sit there, scared to say the wrong thing.

You take a breath. Looking at him, the sun bright through the car window, illuminating his skin. He peers right back at you, hands gripping the wheel tightly, exhaling. You barely blink back more emotions, reaching a hand out then, resting it on one of his.

“Shit, I missed that.” He whispers softly, taking your hand gently and kissing it. Your heart breaks further, until the pain is so deep you can't breathe.

“I'm so sorry I pushed you away, I didn't give you a chance to explain things.” Your words are broken and hoarse, Satoru shakes his head, back focused on the road as he holds onto your hand tightly.

“I'm sorry that I pushed you into something that you never wanted.”

“You didn't push me…”

“I offered it, and I knew you weren't that girl. I knew it, but I was selfish,” he looks back at you, sadness in his blue depths. “I wanted to have it all, my career, you, keep everything in my life the same. Just better. It was selfish.”

“I was selfish, I did it to make sure you wouldn't be with anyone else.” Saying it out loud hurts, but you feel the weight come off your chest, as Satoru blinks tears, falling across his cheek and glimmering in the sun.

“You just wanted to please me, I don't think that's wrong. It was wrong of me to let you.”

“Don't bear all of the blame,” you lean close and kiss away his tears, the two of you stuck in more traffic now. His car parks, as he brushes his fingers across your face. “I should have told you how much it all meant, it was never just sex for me. I wasn't honest with you.”

He nods just a bit, but you see it, the regret on his face. “I wasn't honest with you about anything I felt either. I want to tell you so much, but it's too late.”

“It's not too late.” He sighs, the traffic moves as you sit back in your seat. Clutched tightly, your little hand in his huge one, protective and sweet, you've never missed something so badly.

“You're not with someone?”

“Satoru I work, come home and wallow on my couch. I'm not dating,” he visibly exhales. “And you're not…”

“No one.” His words are quiet, your heart pounds so loudly in your ears as he eyes you again, blue storms swirling with so much. “If this coffee goes okay, can I have a date? A real date?”

You can’t help but get flustered, visible to him the way you nibble on your thumb and shift in your seat, eyes lowering. “A date?”

“A real one. Flowers or some corny shit, fuck I'll get a corsage.”

“Satoru!” You're giggling, he sighs then at how good that sound hits his ears. “It’s not prom, silly.”

“God I love your laugh,” you pause, looking at him then. “Never told you that. The sound does something. It's contagious.”

“I love your smile,” his lip trembles at your teary declaration. “I missed it so badly, I hate that I made you lose it.”

“I hate that I made you cry, I hate that I said that shit.” You shake your head then, biting down on your lip once more, at a red light. It casts a soft glow on Satoru's face, as he tugs it from your teeth. “I didn't mean it.”

“I know you didn't, I should have accepted the apology. I felt so… lost though?” He manages a little nod, as he drives again, and you two just listen to the music in the car until he's right at that coffee shop.

“I went there because I just wanted to see you, it wasn't just sex for me.” He unseatbelts you with a quiet click, a hand pressing on your bare thigh as he looks into your eyes. His minty sweet breath caresses your face. “It was never just sex and that scared the fuck out of me. I wanted to explain it away as simply amazing sex.”

“It was more for you too?” He nods now, cupping your face in his hands, resting his forehead on yours as you two take each other in.

“So much more. I have a lot to tell you about me, it's not all gonna happen today. But I want you to know. And I want to know you, your life, things I didn't even care to find out then. If you will let me.”

“I will, Toru.” The nickname ends his control, he kisses you, just a sweet pop of his lips for a moment, and you melt in his embrace, he pulls back and his thumbs brush over your heated cheeks.

“Sorry, should I not do that? Can I not do that?” His concern is written all over his face then, while the blue eyes assess you gently.

“You can do that,” you press a kiss to his palm, thumb brushing along his inner wrist now. “Is this a date too?”

“Fuck, anything is a date if you want it.” You laugh a bit.

“A date with the Satoru Gojo?”

“Only with you,” you both step into the cozy ambiance of the Cafe, bustling as always. The aroma of coffee beans and sweets fills both of your noses. “Go grab a table, I'll get us two cups.”

You're so pretty sitting there, chin on your hand resting just so, smiling and watching him when he's walking back. And all he can think is how precious and right you feel, as he sits next to you in the booth, and you two sip on the sweet foam of the mocha hitting your lips. He has just a bit of foam on them you tentatively swipe off, the touch almost doing him in.

Just that motion is damn near too much for him, your fingers on his lips as you smile, so nervous, bringing back that night. Did he fall in love with you then? Was something like that even possible? He can’t explain it any other way, from the moment he saw you and how you filled his mind, changed him forever. Your hand falls as he contemplates you carefully, scared it’s some dream.

“You remember my favorite?” He nods, not realizing just that speaks volumes.

You love him.

You're always going to love him.

You ache to say it, but you want that to be the right moment. The hurt is so raw and new, and you two both feel that tension, the way that you both feel terrible for how it all went, the way you missed each other. You sit next to him, a hand comfortably resting on your thigh, it feels so right, the touch. You’re so starved from the lack of him, the lack of his nearness.

“I want to learn anything you want to share.” You tell him softly, as he massages your thigh with his thumb in little circles.

“So do I. Where's photography fit in? Do you still do design?”

“I still do that, I think I needed a distraction. How did you get into modeling?”

“Really connected agents and being stupidly attractive.” You’re laughing, shaking your head. “Gonna deny it?”

“You’re ridiculous.” He’s grinning so big then, you know how terribly you missed that, tugging at your own lips in return, making you smile with him. “I love how your eyes light up.”

He pauses, heart hammering at your soft words, words you’ve held back, and he feels his own tumble out, when his hand squeezes your thigh gently. “I love how sweet you are.”

You feel it, that barrier falling, the one that’s terrified to open up again, but he’s trying to, you just see it. You take a breath, smiling with trembling lips. “I love how caring you are, how you notice things no one else does.”

Drawn to you even closer, he swallows nervously, Adams apple bobbing while he brushes your hair back. “I miss your scent, I catch a hint of it and look for you.”

“You do?” Your voice is soft, as the moment feels so surreal, you couldn’t even have dreamt this, pictured this. He nods quickly, while your hand rests over his, feeling the veins under your fingertips while you two cozy up in the little coffee shop.

“I do miss it, I miss everything. Not just… you know… that.” He blushes a little, rubbing the back of his neck as you feel your own cheeks heat at the memories.

“Me too. Everything.” It takes everything in Satoru not to kiss you again, not a sweet little press of the lips like earlier - he wants to make sure your mouth is swollen from his kisses. He wants you so badly it’s hard to think, to inhale your scent in his nostrils as he tastes your sweet skin, to just fucking hold you.

A mix of everything at once so overwhelming he is trembling, you notice and look at him, lashes lowering as your hearts both race, and his head leans down, coming to rest on yours. You feel tears pricking your eyes at how badly you craved this, craved his presence, in any form at all. You didn’t know this would be a possibility, the way you two speak now, the way you don’t stop the contact.

That first night you met, you two couldn’t stop talking, and for a shy girl like you it was entirely new, it was so different and special, all to happen again for you both, to be so connected and the ease that your words flow. It’s natural, so right to speak to him, to listen to him, as you both recount what you’ve missed in the months alone, making the longing even deeper.

You’d missed so much.

He’d missed so much.

Eventually taking far, far too long to just drink coffee together, he’s taken you back home. You hesitate a bit before inviting him in, remembering the pain of that moment you asked him to leave, and realizing what he’ll see if he comes in. He feels your hesitation, clearing his throat then, and taking your hand in his.

“I don’t have to come in if you’re not ready,” you shake your head quickly. “It’s understandable.”

“It’s not that at all, it’s…” your couch is a mess, the living room table littered with wine bottles and pizza boxes. You have been in such deep depression that the area alone stays messy, while you stress clean the entire house. How do you show him that side of you, a side you don’t know how to explain?

“You can just go in and bring ‘em out, it’s okay.” He’s smiling again, you sigh then, shaking your head.

“If we’re going to start over, I think you should know parts of me that aren’t the best.” He frowns a bit in confusion as you unlock the door, he remembers every bit of your home of course, but when he looks over to your couch he sees it.

He’s quiet as you shut the door behind him, tense as you know this isn’t how a normal person acts, the devastation you’ve been in, the place you rot away and cry about him. The place you numb yourself, after acting happy all fucking day, you know it’s not normal to be this affected by a couple weeks with someone.

But it was you, and you didn’t want to hide anymore.

“Shit…” He murmurs, you slip your purse on the counter, while he slowly walks up to you, hands on your waist, you feel the emotions you’ve barely held together about to crumble when he tugs you against him, wrapping his arms around you.

“It’s embarrassing, that’s why I hesitated.” You admit softly, letting him hold you right in your kitchen, but it wasn’t like last time - it was not sexual, it’s caring, it’s a tight hold you never want to leave.

“You were hurting that badly, why didn’t you just…” He exhales, kissing your head then. “You could have told me, fuck I’d have been here.”

“I pushed you away, I hurt you too.” Your words are true, he’s been devastated without you, but the physical evidence is glaring in how you took it.

“We hurt each other,” he admits, you nod, looking up at him and sighing, he tilts your ching up now, the feel of him against you filling things that were empty before and in his absence. “There’s so much I want to say, but for now… let me just help clean this up.”

“No, please, I’ll clean it before you come over again.” He’s already shaking his head. “Satoru, that's embarrassing.”

“It’s not. Where’s the cleaning shit?” He’s already tall and lanky in your kitchen, bending over and opening cabinets now. He’s doing anything to avoid the knowledge you hurt like that for so fucking long, the sweet and bubbly girl he met living like that breaks him so deeply he can’t even tap into how much it hurts.

“It was just… a spot I left that way I guess.” You grimace and help him then, grabbing trash bags as you eye the mess you’ve made of the couch.

It’s abundantly clear the spot you sat in for six months every day after work, while he starts throwing out empty boxes and bottles of wine with you. You’re not as embarrassed with him as you thought you’d be, he doesn’t make you feel that way, he just helps you, methodically throwing things out. The wine bottles clink as they hit, he eyes a couple of them and smirks.

“These are so cheap and shitty.”

“Well excuse me!” You’re laughing then, even through your tears, he gives you a sad little smile, continuing to tidy up. You tackle the table you haven’t seen in months with a sponge, he starts folding your several plush blankets all tangled up, frowning a bit.

“You sleep here too?” He asks, you nod a bit. 

“I would just watch movies till I cried myself to sleep.” You take a shaky breath, wiping the table down with a towel as Satoru’s lips open, as if to speak, but he just smiles again.

“I’ll take these out.” He walks the trash out as you go to the kitchen, spotless in comparison to that area, that was the one place you let it all just be chaos, let the hurt sink in.

Now he’s here, and you don’t even know how to act, you hurt him and pushed him away, and he’s here to pick up your pieces. He steps back in, walking over to you as you both look at each other, his hands slipping down your arms gently, you take several breaths, biting your lower lip as he tugs you closer. It’s quiet, all the things you both want to say on the tip of your tongues.

“I’m so sorry you hurt like that,” he finally says, cupping your face, you touch his hand and sniffle a bit, nodding.

“I hurt you too, though, I felt so horrible for it, I think it made everything worse.”

“Don’t,” he shakes his head now. “I didn’t know how to not be sexual, you were right about me.”

“But you-”

“No,” he puts a finger to your lips, sighing now as he feels them under his finger, smoothing that indentation of your teeth and watching your lashes lower. “The club, I just proved you right.”

You flush as you remember that, the wanton way you’d arched for him, how you’d squirted, sucked his fingers. God you were a mess for him so easily, after saying you didn’t want that you fell back into it with ease. If he were to do it now you would, but he keeps his touches chaste, careful, leaning down and tilting your chin up, letting you look into his eyes.

“I originally made it sexual then demanded more-”

“No, you needed more. You told me, and I didn’t give it. I…” he trails off, sighing now. “I never knew how to be affectionate, sex to me was affection. It’s all I knew how to do in that moment, when you needed more.”

“But you didn’t have to give more. That was me.”

“I want more, I still want more.” You can hardly comprehend that those words are coming from his perfect lips, your heart racing now. “There’s a lot I want to say, but I don’t think we should unpack this all today. And I want to see you again.”

“I want to see you again.” Your hand slips up his chest, as he wraps an arm around your waist. “Thank you for today, for everything. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I helped cause that depression, so of course I should help clean it up.” He’s emotional, imagining the girl he fucking loves - yes he loves you - just sobbing on a messy couch. He swallows it down, along with the urge to kiss every part of your body, knowing he just can’t right now.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” the sobs break now, you can’t hold them back when you’re in his arms, face pressed against his chest, body shaking as he tries to stroke your back, your arms. “I felt so horrible making you go.”

“It was the best thing, you deserved more than I gave.”

“Satoru! No…”

“Yes.” He cups your face, swiping your tears as he holds back his own, shaking his head again. “You deserve everything, fuck I was so unsure I could ever give it you you I never thought you’d even fucking feel that way for me.”

“You underestimate how amazing you are,” he nuzzles your palm when you lean up and touch his cheek gently. “You deserve everything.”

“I want you to know, I haven’t… nothing since you.” You blink in surprise, lashes still dripping tears that he presses sweet kisses on, bending at the waist. “I couldn’t be with anyone.”

“Me either, Toru.” He kisses you again, sweet and salty from your tears, as his own eyes get glassy with emotion.

“You promised me brownies and cookies, I earned my keep now.” You laugh then, it’s so freeing, his pretty grin just a little crooked as you step back.

“You did! Of course, come on.” You go to grab them out of the fridge, he hates that even now he’s eyeing your ass like that, he knows he can’t yet, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t desire your body too.

He’ll always desire you, every bit of you, the thoughts eating him at night, the amount of times he’s played with himself to your memory is ridiculous. But he is making sure that takes a back seat, what you need is comfort, clearly, the sadness just shows, like you’re keeping it together just a bit for him. You get a pretty flowery tupperware and start stacking them for him as he is enamored with your every movement.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says softly, you pause, snapping the lid on, all puffy cheeked from crying.

“I probably look like a mess,”

“You’re always beautiful.” He steps closer, kissing your forehead now. “Not just your pretty face or your sexy body,” now his voice drops an octave, fucking your mind, body and heart up as you look at the man you love. “Something about you, it’s in here, that shit sounds corny huh?”

“No, it doesn’t,” he’s touching your chest, feeling your heartbeat under his palm racing and fluttering. You put yours on his, feeling the slow athletic beat he’s always had kicked up just a bit. “You are too, Satoru, much more than your looks.”

Those words hit harder than he knew they would, it’s always been his looks, since he met his ex. Everything was his potential, and even if his personality was something that carried him, it always felt like people wanted him for his looks. His eyes, his body, his lips.

But you never just wanted that, he knows it now.

“Fuck,” he can’t even hold back this one kiss, the one where he’s pinning you against the counter, and you’re whining out, that cute breathy cry that ends him. “I missed you so fucking much.”

“Me too, me too…” your words are muffled with his lips, hungry and desperate on yours, the kiss he’s held for you for months, the one he played over and over in his head. If he ever got a chance, if he ever got to hold you again, he pours it all then, in that moment with you.

“Satoru…” You’re whispering his name as he bends over, taking over your senses, mouth devouring yours, so messy then, his tongue slipping in your mouth, possessing it. You cling to his dress shirt, nails pressing against his back over the fabric as his hands slip down your waist, gripping your hips and tugging you closer.

He whispers your name, a soft whine as he looks at you with those cerulean depths lit up, breaths faster, kissing you over and over, as if he’ll never get enough. You lose yourself, your entire body on fire - nipples pressed against your sweater, tummy clenched with the desire you haven’t felt once before or after him, your pulse racing in your ears.

“God I missed this,” he says then, breaking away to take a breath, you kiss him again, sweet, god you’re sweet. God he loves kissing you, holding you, looking into eyes behind fogged up glasses, so adorable it tugs at him with affection. “You’re so adorable.”

“I need windshield wipers.” He laughs then, a genuine laugh, as you giggle, he tugs your glasses off and kisses you again, hands gripping your face after he sets them on the counter next to the baked goods.

It wasn’t just an exaggeration, it wasn’t him making the thoughts more than they were, the kisses just were like this with you. Life altering movements of plush lips melding to each other, hands warming each other's skin, he can’t get enough - god he wants more, but he holds back, until he can’t anymore, tugging away just a bit and taking a breath, trailing his fingers down your curves slowly.

“I want more, I don’t want you to think it was just your body,” he says then, you nod quickly, understanding, even as your breasts heave up and down with your quick breaths. “God I wanna fucking tear this off you.”

“Mnh…” you bury your face against his chest, feeling his heart beat against your cheek quicker now, as you nod against him. “I want it too, Satoru I… I felt so sexual because I just already had feelings. It was always more for me.” He exhales, pressing another kiss to your heated cheek, blushing against his lips, hot to the touch.

“I knew that, and I still was selfish.” Admitting it sucked, it fucking hurt, but he knows he needs to do more, say more.

“So was I.”

“I don’t think you have a selfish bone in your pretty body.” You laugh softly.

“I do. For you.”

“Selfish for me?” His husky voice drives you insane, you nod when he moans, kissing you again, thigh pressing between yours, when he feels your heat it almost takes him out. “Fuck… maybe you’ll show me how selfish some day.”

“M-maybe I will…”

He chuckles again, pulling back. “You’re too cute.”

“Oh you always said that.” You’re smiling though, he sees it and it tears him up, how beautiful the sight is for his eyes again.

“You are cute, you’re adorable. I love that about you… I… deleted those, so you know, okay?” Your eyes widen in surprise then.

“You did?”

“The moment you said you regretted them, it wasn’t right to keep it up. I want you to know, no one knows it was you, I guess except your friend and me.”

“Of course, I knew you’d never share that information.”

“I shouldn’t have asked you, I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Satoru…”

“No,” he cuts you off softly, you’re back in his arms now, snuggled in his embrace. “I am furious I showed anyone that perfect pussy, y’know that?”

You pause at the declaration, looking up at him. “Really?”

“God yes,” he laughs without humor then. “I hate that others saw you, it was already making me angry, but I was so stuck up my own self.”

“Just know I forgive you, and I don’t blame it all on you.” He nods then, the relief from your words letting his broad shoulders rest just a bit. “Thank you for taking them down, but I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You did regret it.”

“I didn’t regret being with you on video, I um… regretted others seeing it. Me and you? It felt too intimate, too special,” your hands entwine as you speak, his long fingers against your much smaller ones, feeling so warm and good. You shut your eyes as you try to gather your thoughts. “I regretted anyone seeing us together.”

“It was special,” his words bring your gaze back. “It was intimate, and I wish we kept it to us now.”

“You do?”

“God yes, the fact that anyone jerked it to you? Makes me unreasonably fucking mad now,” you bury your face against his chest again, the warmth of his palm seeping into your skin. “All I could think was ‘pussy is mine’.”

You blink in surprise. “You thought that?”

“Did I think that, yes of course I did. I thought a lot I didn’t say,” he sighs now, kissing your forehead again so sweetly as his phone rings. He frowns, and you step back a bit as he checks it. “I’m suddenly free this Saturday, how about you?”

“I’m free!” You say it so quickly he laughs.

“Sweetheart,” the way he says it after so long makes you tremble with need, as he brushes back your hair. “I can’t begin to say how much I missed you.”

“Me too, god so much. Feel like you’re some dream.” He feels the same, god he does, like this isn’t real, when you two kiss again, this time it’s too much, he’s so close to losing his control.

Satoru’s hands are on your hips, while you feel like your home is here, right on his perfect lips. He’s delving his tongue in your mouth feverish and heated now, before he picks you up, thighs on either side of his hips, sitting you on the counter. You’re lost in him, like the sweetest drink or most addicting drug, arms wrapping his neck as his hardness presses.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he murmurs again, you whine and roll your hips, when he litters kisses down the side of your neck. “I miss this so much.”

“I miss it, I miss you. Need you.” He exhales at that, his hands slipping up bare thighs over your knee socks, thumbs pressing the softness of your inner thighs, you’re whining out at it. “I only want you.”

“God me too,” he’s so close to slipping those soaked panties to the side, as he tugs you closer, and you take a breath, trying to get your composure, lips swollen from his kisses. “So beautiful.”

“I feel beautiful with you,” he moans and kisses you again, hands pressing deep, so deep he’ll bruise you as they wrap your thighs, and he groans. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighs as he pulls back, looking at you spread for him, picturing sinking to his knees and worshipping you. “You look too good, I need to go.”

“I feel the same. I think I should… bake more.” He laughs again, the sound so bright it melts you, as he helps you down, sliding you across his hard body slowly. “Bake a lot and then take a cold shower.”

“A cold shower sounds good to me too.” He cups your face then, tilting your chin up and brushing his thumb on your lips. “Make no mistake, we need time, but when you’re ready if I ever get another chance at you? I’m gonna fuck you till you can’t walk.”

“Toru mnh…” He’s moaning and kissing you again, it takes everything not to let him, not to beg for it. But you both need to take a breath. It’s too raw, it’s too fresh, and there’s so much. “I want to know so much more about you.”

“I do too. Not just every inch of your body, though that thought is raging,” he’s pouting and you’re giggling again, brightening your pretty eyes. “I wish I’d just listened to you then. But my feelings were hurt.”

“I get it, I really do. So, Saturday huh?”

“Saturday.” He kisses you again, and soon he’s walking to the door, as the memories of the last time he was here hit.

“Fuck,” you hate how they rush in, stealing your breath. He looks at you, frowning as he holds the little tupperware you gave him. “I hated myself for doing it.”

“No, sweets, don’t. Don’t hate yourself, okay?” You’re swiping tears again.

“I’m a mess.”

“Beautiful mess,” his words make you lean up to kiss him again, his free hand wraps you, while the two of you stand in your quiet entry way, just the sounds of your breaths and kisses filling the room. “I want you to be my beautiful mess.”

“I want to be yours.” He sighs, kissing your palm and then your hand, things he never thought he’d do, but he wants to with you.

“I don’t want to fuck this up, I never thought I’d even see you again, not even sure I deserve to kiss you.”

“Let me figure out what you deserve, what I want. Okay?” He nods then, swallowing nervously and taking a breath. “Text me when you get home safe.”

“I will, good night sweets.” The little nicknames nearly do you in again, when you smile and lean on the doorway, he’s waving when he gets in his car, hesitating before he pulls off.

What if he doesn’t see you again?

The panic sets in his heart, he knew he missed you, but he didn’t know the depths of the fear until now, as he sees your hand wave back at him, sees your silhouette in the doorway. He steps out of his car, walking back up as you shut your door, stepping forward when he’s kissing you again.

“One more.” He murmurs, so sweet you’re done for, god it’s all back - it never left - but being in his arms? His presence? His desperate needy kiss?

You’re hugging him over his shoulders, kissing him right back, the sky is all pinks and golds as the sun sets, casting shadows on that silvery hair, bringing out the little streaks of lavender. You’re taking a slow breath, heart feeling like it’s whole for the first time since that day you sent him away, the day you did the thing that hurt you the most, but he’s here.

He’s here.

All of him.

“Sorry,” you shake your head, cupping his face. He’s a couple steps down as you stand on your deck, enough you’re almost face to face with him. “I can’t help it.”

“Don’t say sorry, I love your kisses. I missed them.” He moans and kisses you again, feeling your gravity tugging him so close that it feels wrong to back away. “You could just stay and cuddle? Or just stay. You don’t have to go home if you don’t want to, you know.”

“If I stay no way it’s just fucking cuddling, you’re expecting too much from a former pornstar you know,” You blush then at his insinuation, when he backs away again. “Good night baby.”

“Good night again, Toru.”

He laughs as he goes back to the car, your heart hurts when he drives off, but the weight feels so lifted, the sorrow and self loathing of pushing the man you love away. It was so hard to let that go, to let go his tears when he begged you to keep him around, but now you know it was the right decision, as you pass by a freshly cleaned couch later that evening, eyeing your phone.

You always sit there, but tonight instead, you go to your room, the bed you’ve not gone near in so long. You snuggle up, pulling up a book for the first time in months, and you can almost read it, but you’re so stuck in your thoughts of him, of his kisses and his pretty blue eyes, of the energy of him, his scent left behind. A scent you missed so fucking badly.

Instead of wine and pizza, it’s a water bottle next to your nightstand, when you get it - his text.

Satoru - I got a little busy. I'm sorry, I’m home now. Suguru was having a moment

You - that’s fine! I’m glad you’re home safe

Satoru sighs, looking at the phone as he lays in his bed, picturing you right here in his arms, he’d stroke your hair, he’d press kisses along your skin. He’d hold you here forever if you fucking let him. Even now, there’s so much more he has to say, but he wants to give you the perfect date, one you deserve. He wants to share more of who he is with you.

Today, seeing that side of you made it so much more raw, the pain you must have felt, how hard it was to push him away. He never resented you for it, even though it killed him, deep down he knew why you did it, but instead of trying to fix it, he made it all fucking worse that night.

Satoru - I can’t wait to see you again.

He’d never say that before, he’d have made some sexy joke or some silly comment, not just be vulnerable. And it was terrifying to do it, his heart hammering in his chest as he sits up in his bed. He looks next to him, remembering you right there, remembering fucking you all night, waking up and fucking you again, but he thinks of all the times he could have done more.

Just held you, just kissed you, of course he wanted you - god he’s never wanted anyone like you - but he wishes he did even more. Hold your hand, at that damn dinner said ‘no she’s my girlfriend’ fuck he wanted to. He wishes he could have held you so close to him, let everyone know you’re his. Friend, what a joke, he never was your friend.

He always wanted more and didn’t even know what it was.

You - me too, I’m so excited!

He’s torn between being so happy and smiling, but also feeling that sadness of seeing that couch with you. The pain he saw in your eyes that night at the club, but he was so consumed, he couldn’t realize what was glaringly apparent. Your confessions he was so fucking scared to return.

He can’t wait to say it, that he loves you.

He never thought he’d get a chance.

You- I hope you have sweet dreams Satoru.

He smiles at that sadly - It’s been nothing without you, darkness.

You bite your lip as he types - It’s been nightmares for you.

Satoru- you too, sweetheart.

The two of you can hardly stand it, feeling each other’s kisses lingering on your skin, inhaling the scent of each other in your nostrils. Hugging those pillows tight and picturing each other. But for once, instead of you sobbing and him tossing and turning, the two of you fall asleep, wishing Saturday would come quickly, so you two can start over again, and not fuck it up so badly.

we will get back to this being sexy next chap aha

Taglist 1 - @juicu @kalulakunundrum @gojoswaterbottle @aldebrana @simp-plague @wedojustbevibin @lucciferr0 @officialholyagua @privthemis @coffee-and-geto @homesickes @msniks @emi311 @mai-505 @ren-ren23 @yihona-san06 @emochosoluvr @sylvermoon @bunheadusa @karvokr @starmapz @queenexplosonmurderr @musiclover2119 @saitamaswifey @reagan707 @midorissi @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @itsinherited @maisiefrancesca @gyarubunny @theonlyhonoredone @chosslut @simperisksksk @xlilycoco @howlsdarling @femaholicc @maymaymarch @miseryyouth-99 @swoozleee @zeunys @cryingdevil @leafynightmares @princess-bblgm @gojosconsort @insomnicshello @joonunivrs @myahfig4 @silviscosplay @iluvjjkmennn @nutellajade

[no-144444]

the grid: can you fight?

꩜ featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, George Russell, Kimi Antonelli, Alex Albon, Carlos Sainz, Daniel Riccardo, Liam Lawson, Max Verstappen, Charles LeClerc, Lewis Hamilton, Ollie Bearman, Jack Doohan, Franco Colapinto, & Paul Aron

꩜ banner creds: bronzewasp

Oscar Piastri: nonchalant 

McLaren media days were usually long and boring, and today was no different. Thankfully, they were on the last video, reading thirst tweets? Whatever that meant. Oscar had an ipad open in front of him, and he scrolled past a tweet that read ‘face card is insane’, not really understanding what the meant, but thanking the poster anyway. The next tweet was a picture of you, and a caption, ‘can you fight @.oscarpiastri ?’. Beside the photo of you, was a particularly terrible photo of himself. He stopped, lingering on your photo. It was a photo he knew well, the photo he keeps in his wallet. You, looking like a fucking goddess in a photobooth. Him, looking like a twat. He laughed (probably too hard), and Lando joined in. 

“So this one is a photo of my fiancé, and says ‘can you fight?’,” he explained. “I’d like to think I could hold my own, especially for Y/n,” he chuckled, Lando dying of laughter beside him. “But I probably couldn’t take on all of her fans.” 

“Mate,” Lando wheezed. “You look possessed!”

“I wasn’t, I was just arguing,” he chuckled. Lando’s laughter was becoming offensive now. “I don’t look that bad!”

“Sure mate, sure,” he giggled, wiping his tears away. 

Lando Norris: Crazy town! 

He was busy scrolling on instagram, post after post of you coming up on his feed. He was not complaining. You looked so hot in every single edit, every picture, everyone agreed too. He felt his ego grow. He’d bagged you. He’d convinced you to go out with him. Holy shit. 

One caption caught his eyes though. ‘@.landonorris, can you fight?’. He frowned. Obviously. Of course he could fight. Of course he would fight. You were his girlfriend. 

He did what he did best, and commented. Probably wasn’t the best idea since Zak called him maybe 10 minutes later. 

Oops!

What was the comment, you may ask?

landonorris I can fight and fuck, why do you think she stays with me?

George Russell: actually couldn't care less 

“Can you fight George Russell?” he repeated, reading the caption of the edit. The Mercedes media team giggled behind the camera as Kimi clapped a hand on his shoulder, laughing a little too hard. “I’d hope so, considering this many people want to steal my girlfriend from me,” he chuckled. “Blimey!” he stared at the photo in front of him. It was one of his favourites, one that he’d taken. One where you’d kissed him after he took it, so happy with his work. “I know she’s beautiful, but she is my girlfriend, and the internet should remember that.” 

“Maybe you need to post her more,” Kimi shrugged. 

George rolled his eyes. “Are we really getting to the stage where Kimi is giving me social media advice? What’s he going to do next, take over my instagram for a day?”

“That’s a good idea,” he heard the social media manager mumble. He face-palmed. 

“Anyway, back to the problem at hand,” he cleared his throat. “Yes, I can fight.” 

“No you can’t!” Lando cackled from nearby. 

George just stared at the camera as everyone else laughed.

Kimi Antonelli: logical 

“Can I fight?” he read out the caption of a fan edit of you. He giggled nervously. “Why would I need to? We’re already together.” 

“It’s just something people say online,” George chuckled. “People ask me the same all the time.”

“Well, this person doesn’t even know her, right? How would they think she’d pick them over me?” 

George was laughing now, amused by how literally Kimi was taking this. “Mate, it’s a joke.”

“Well, they posted it!” Kimi argued back. “Clearly they meant something!”

George actually couldn’t respond. He was laughing too much.  “My gosh,” he tutted, scrolling past the post. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Alex Albon: secure 

“‘Can I fight?’, yes, and I will,” his voice was sharp and Carlos giggled beside him. “Y/n is my girlfriend. She wouldn’t choose you anyway, but if we must fight, yes, I would win. Next!” he sassed as he scrolled to the next post. It was another one of you and him, ‘how did he do it?’. He rolled his eyes. “My irresistible charm and handsome face,” he deadpanned to the camera and Carlos was busy dying of laughter beside him. “Next,” he scrolled again, and it was a picture of you and Alex after he proposed to you, ‘if he ever proposed to me in b-board shorts (!!!) and a linen shirt, he’s getting a no’, and he stared at the camera. “Are you fucking joking? What is wrong with that outfit?!” he demanded, as the entire media team doubled over with laughter, Carlos almost falling out of his chair. “People online are too nit-picky these days,” he shook his head.

Carlos Sainz: pisses him off lmao

He rolled his eyes as yet another thirst edit of you with an insanely graphic caption appeared on his tiktok. “Fuck’s sake,” he cursed. Your ears perked up and you started to rub his back again. 

“Alright?” you asked, eyes still on your computer, glued to whatever film you were both meant to be watching, but he’d turned over the look at his phone instead. You hadn’t seemed to mind. 

“Why do all of your fans and mine want to fight me?” he groaned, stretching his arms above his head as he turned around, burying his face in your neck. “Fucking stupid.” 

You giggled. “Not my fault I’m sexy.” 

“All your fault you’re sexy,” he said, muffled by your hoodie. His hand ventured up your hoodie, not uncommon, so you didn’t say anything. “We should release a sex tape or something-”

“Are you fucking crazy?!” you squealed, shoving his hand out from under your top. “Do you want my career to be over?!” 

He shrugged. “People could see just how much you want me,” he moved closer somehow, as you stared back at him, dumbfounded, jaw dropped. He chuckled. “That’s usually how you look when you-”

“Shut up Carlos!

Daniel Riccardo: smug bastard! 

“‘Can you fight?’, yes, but I don’t need to,” he laughed, his smile bright and smug. The photo in front of him was one of you at an Enchanté event, taking pictures with fans. You looked radiant. If only the public knew he took you home and fucked you on the counter the second you tow got in the door. 

“You don’t need to?” Max spurred him on. 

“Nope,” he proudly shook his head. “I’ve got some photos on my phone-”

“Enough!” their media manager shouted, cutting him off. “Stop talking!”

Both of them burst into laughter, doubling over. When they finally calmed down, Daniel winked at the camera. “Don’t worry, I’d never show them.”

Liam Lawson: out of his league

“Yes, I can fight,” he rolled his eyes, scrolling past it, only to be met with another one. You in various posts he’d made, photos he’d taken, days he remembered. He adored you, it was clear to anyone. You were the majority of his insta feed. “I know she’s gorgeous-”

“And out of your league,” Yuki added, smirking. 

Liam’s jaw dropped. “Fuck off!” he laughed. “She is not-! Ok, maybe yeah she is, but come on man,” he chuckled. “Give me a break!” 

“Mate, I’m just being truthful,” he shrugged. “She’s totally out of your league.”

Liam scoffed. “I know! But we don’t have to point it out!”

“I mean, we can though,” Yuki laughed. “We could also mention the fact that she asked you out, and not the other way around.”

“Well I was hardly going to ask her out, she’s out of my league!”

Max Verstappen: annoying

“Why do your fans want to fight me?”he scoffed, throwing his phone down on the bed, between you two. He turned to look at you, and you continued reading. He rolled his eyes and pulled the book out of your hands, much to your dismay. He bookmarked it and placed it on his bedside table, then turned back to you. You were scowling at him. 

“What?” you demanded. 

“Why do your fans want to fight me?” he asked again, his hands reaching for you. 

“I don’t fucking know,” you scoffed. “Give me back my book Max.”

“Come here,” he chuckled, pulling you closer to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs intertwining with his. He pressed his lips to yours, gently, and you melted into him. He loved this, the gentle and slow nights he got with you. Enjoying the silence you gave each other. He pulled back, a smug smile on his lips. “Your fans couldn’t do that.”

You rolled your eyes and reached behind his head, grabbing your book back. “I’d let anyone do that if it meant they wouldn’t steal my book,” you shot back, turning the other way from him. He chuckled and squeezed your ass. 

“Brat,” he smirked. 

You flipped him off in return, but he knew you were smiling. 

Charles LeClerc: so pathetic it’s insane

“I will not fight!” he announced, startling Lewis beside him. They were just meant to be replying to thirst tweets, but he’d fallen down a rabbit hole. He turned his head up to the camera, completely serious. “She chose me! She doesn’t want any of you!”

Lewis started laughing beside him, the hilarity of it all getting to him. 

“She’s my wife! Look!” he held up his ring finger with the golden wedding band you’d placed just mere months ago. He hadn’t taken it off yet. “She loves me!” 

“I think they get it mate,” Lewis chuckled. 

“They better,” he scoffed. “Right, onto the next one!”

Lewis Hamilton: lowkey freaky (actually just sassy!)

“Lewis, can you fight?!” one of the fans cheered from the side of the carpet. He rolled his eyes as you laughed, waving at the fan before starting to walk over there. Not on his watch. He pulled you back by his hand on your wrist and smirked. The crowd roared at the interaction between the two of you. 

“You’re not going over there,” he murmured. 

“I have to see what he’s offering,” you teased, your voice low so as to not be picked up by the hundreds of cameras pointed at the two of you. “Maybe it’s better-”

“Nothing is better than us,” his grip on your waist tightened. “Need me to remind you?”

“You’re talking a lot of game, old man,” you chuckled, kissing his cheek. “Don’t forget your abilities now.” 

He scoffed in your face, his jaw dropping. “Bitch,” he sassed, making you laugh. “Don’t piss me off.”

You acquiesced, kissing his lips before taking his hand and leading him further up the carpet. 

Ollie Bearman: used to it 

“Can you fi-” he cut himself off, scrolling on. “We’re not doing that.” 

“It’s a genuine question Ollie,” Kimi nudged him. Their first interview together since they moved to F1 was meant to be about tweets on Bearelli, but it had quickly sent them down a rabbit-hole of their own girlfriends. 

“Shut up mate,” he scoffed, scrolling again and only finding more and more questions on whether or not he could keep you. Kimi just kept laughing. “You won’t be laughing in a minute when these are about you.” 

Jack Doohan: embarrassed 

Jack had learnt that Pierre was the kind of guy to keep a joke going, but he never thought it’d get this far. They had been looking at thirst tweets, and one of you had come up, asking if Jack could fight, but he’d gone bright red the second your name was mentioned. Pierre cackled beside him as he held his head in his hands, wishing for the world to swallow him up. Come race day, Pierre had hidden print-outs of the tweet all over the Alpine garage. 

“J, why is this on your wall?” you questioned as you held up one of the print-outs. 

He went bright red. Again. 

Franco Colapinto: (shockingly) normal

“So Franco, since you and your girlfriend Y/n have gone public with your relationship, many people on the internet have one question, can you fight?” the host chuckled. 

“Can I fight? Yes, yes I can fight. I don’t need to though, my girlfriend loves me,” he laughed, looking to you. You were so embarrassed, I mean, head-in-hands embarrassed. He continued on, never stopping to think about what he was saying. “No, but I do understand, my Y/n is very beautiful, and I am very lucky. I love her very much. Anyway, most people couldn’t handle her, if you get what I mean.” 

“Well said,” the host laughed, trying to continue with some sort of professionalism. “Got some brownie points there.” 

“Hopefully,” Franco winked at you, as you stood behind the camera, shocked by his statement.

Paul Aron: sassy queen! 

“‘Can I fight’? Have you seen me?” he flexed his arm up, showing off his (huge) arms, as you laughed beside him. He shook his head. “Silly, silly people,” he tutted. “It is a nice photo though, you look very beautiful,” he turned to you. 

“Thanks baby,” you murmured back, scrolling on and only seeing more calls for Paul to step aside and let others in. 

He stared the camera down as you were distracted and mouthed ‘she’s mine’ to the many viewers.

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

mclaren masterlist (OP81 &LN4)

ferrari masterlist (CL16, LH44 & AL65 )

williams & mercedes masterlist (GR63, KA12, CS55 LS2 &AA23)

redbull & vcarb masterlist (MV1, DR3 & LL40)

alpine masterlist (JD7, PA17, FC43)

[isasweetie]

in which you’re forced into having a talk with your ex-boyfriend, rafe cameron, on the boat ride to morocco.

being a pogue and rafe cameron’s ex was not easy. although you dated shortly before he killed peterkin, and you were sure he barely even remembered your favourite colour, seeing him blatanly disrespect you and his friends, and go down a path you tried so hard to prevent him from, was hard to watch. but now he’s picked himself up since ward died. you thought you had another chance to at least be on good terms. sending flowers and a card to tanneyhill when ward died, smiling at him when you’d see him around. it didn’t work, he still hated you and your friends.

fortunately, he redeemed himself ever so slightly by volunteering to take the pogues to morocco. rafe had to find chandler groff, you guys wanted the blue crown. it was perfect.

until jj punched him, that is. he knocked him out cold. with a scolding “jj!” coming from majority of the pogues, including you, jj carries him down into the downstairs washroom and ties his wrists to a pole. they don’t trust him, which is fair. you don’t either — you shouldn’t, anyway.

rafe was down there quietly for a mere half hour until he woke up with a groan from his head hitting the ground earlier, followed up with yelling once he realizes he was stuck down there.

all touching your noses and saying ‘not it’ the minute pope suggests someone going down there to check on him, you’re the unlucky one who said it last. shutting up your protests, john b gently coaxes you downstairs, saying things like, “you used to mack on him”, “this is good, you know him”, “he won’t hurt you,” john b leaves you downstairs once you make it to the door of the bathroom. knocking gently, you timidly ask, “can i come in?”

there’s no answer. you can picture him. wrists tied, brows furrowed, eyes closed tightly as his head leans against the wall and towards the ceiling. his gorgeous stressed face. you slowly open the door, peeking your head in. “hi,” you say gently, timid around the scary and aggressive man you have the curse of calling your ex.

“…hey,” rafe says, voice rough as he shuts his eyes tight.

unsure what to say, you awkwardly stand there and stare down at him. “um, i brought asprin,”

“right, right, like i can fuckin’ swallow it. what, you gonna throw it in my mouth like a.. seal or something?” sassy, his upper lip lifts a bit as he thinks about it and isn’t very fond of the idea.

a second of silence as you figure out what to say. “…um, ill just set it down here,” you say, putting the container down beside him. “sorry about your head.”

“yeah, uh, your little boyfriend can’t control his fists, huh?”

“…not my boyfriend,” you correct softly, though you’re not sure why you feel the need to tell him that. “but no one really.. trusts you, rafe, so you kind of brought this on yourself—“

he quickly interrupts you. “bullshit. you know why that’s bullshit? because i was helping. who got you this boat, huh? me. i did. rafe. i’m the reason that you guys aren’t swimming, or some shit, to north africa. i’m being helpful and understanding, and this is what i get. you think that’s fair?” when you’re stood there in silence at his sudden raised voice, he repeats, “you think that’s fucking fair, y/n!?” he kicks a can in anger.

it’s like you’re his girlfriend again as you sit down next to him instantly instead of running. you get deja vu to the time three years ago when he was high on coke and got kicked out of the house. everyone ignored him except for you. “..um, okay, i’m gonna give you some asprin,” you say softly. “help your head. open,” you tell him, grabbing a pill as he gives you a look but opens his mouth. you pop it in his mouth and he dry swallows. “there.”

you two share a look. you don’t think it’s a bad look by any means. he looks frustrated still, but there’s an underlying gentleness in his eyes, as if he registers you’re still the same girl you were when you two were together. “…and, um, for the record, i don’t think it’s fair that you’re down here. you helped us, thats.. nice.”

the word ‘us’ when referring to you and the pogues makes him feel weird. “i don’t get why you hang out with them,” he mutters as he looks at the ground. “tried so fucking hard to keep you away from them when we were.. together.”

“i know,” you whisper, your gaze dropping as well, to his tied wrists. you feel awful. “trust me, your warnings still play in my head when i’m with them sometimes,”

“you remind me of sarah.” he says. you’re not sure what that means.

“you hate sarah,”

“nah, nah— i don’t hate her. hate who she’s turned into,” he adjusts himself. “she makes me sad. i’m sad for her, alright? she had so much potential.“ he shrugs. “but there’s no saving her. she’s in too deep,” he looks back up at you again. “i think there’s saving you, though,”

“…this is weird, rafe,”

“how?” he asks.

“because in the years we’ve been broken up, you’ve never talked to me about this. feels like it’s a… trick or something,”

“it’s not a trick,” he assures, voice still rough. “look, i’m out half a mill, i’m tied up in a bathroom, i’m probably gonna.. die or something. i got nothing to lose, may as well tell you my concern,”

“um, i appreciate it,” you say gently, unsure how to respond. “and i’m gonna go back upstairs.”

“hey— no, woah, woah, woah,” he stops you quickly. “stay. okay?”

“i should go up and help with dinner, though—“

“no, stay. i— i want you to stay, okay? i don’t wanna be down here alone, and i want you away from the pogues,”

he doesn’t wanna be alone. you feel bad for him all over again, nodding gently as you sit back down beside him. you always were so good for rafe.

you’re not sure how long you’ll be down here with him. maybe until it’s late at night and he’s asleep. so gently, after about five minutes of silence, to ease some of the tension and pass the time, you murmur a, “truth or dare?”

rafe just smiles.

[mixingandmelting]

Heavy Blanket

Summary: You were cold and needed a blanket. He decides to be that blanket only to get too comfy and lay on top of you longer than needed

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You’re hot. Sweltering. Wheezing. Lungs close to collapsing. And no matter how many times you tell him, he won’t. Get. Off.

“Simon, please.” You gently nudge his shoulder, trying to get him to look at you. “I’m suffocating here.” 

He simply grunts, nuzzling his face into your chest as his arms tighten around your chest. You suppose it’s your fault, having told him that you were cold and not wanting to get off the couch to get a blanket. You just.. didn’t expect him to take it quite literally and provide you a heavy, weighted one (i.e., him). 

You sigh. Maybe you could push him off…? You glance down only to be reminded how massive he is, easily engulfing your being so that it looks like there’s simply a single person on the sofa. Hell, the only indication you’re even lying there is your head and arms poking out from underneath. No body, just ligaments. 

Yeah. It’s Not happening. As if sensing your disgruntlement, he lifts his head so his eyes would be looking into yours. For a moment the two of you stare, waging a wordless battle.

“…For a person called ghost, you’re so cheeky.”

He snorts, going back to comfortably resting his head on your chest.

“Only to you, love. Only to you.” 

Took the words right out of your mouth. 

Shaking your head in exasperation, you card your fingers through his hair. Welp. laundry is definitely not getting done today. 

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish

“Johnny?”

“No.”

“Johnny.”

“No.”

“John Mactavish.”

That gets him to lift his head up. You try not to snort at the offended look he gives you, his eyes asking if you had seriously just used his full name over something like this. Instead, you take this chance to finally get some precious O2 in your lungs and enjoy weight being lifted off of you. Literally. 

You had forgot and now remembered his biceps are the size of your head when he props onto his elbows, bright blue eyes staring directly into yours. 

“Luvie, I’m not John Mactavish to you. Am I?” 

“No. But,” you shuffle to get around but he doesn’t budge. Dammit. “You are a furnace. Heavy, hard, and exuding only heat.” 

Instantly you regret saying that, recognizing the glint in his eyes. 

“Heavy and hard, aye?”  

One hand to cover your burning face, you use the other to smack his chest. You and your stupid mouth. Him and his stupid, smug, smirk. Chuckling, he moves and gets comfortable before snuggling you again. At least he’s being mindful this time, making sure you aren’t feeling as if you’re being flattened into a pancake. As for you, you nuzzle your face into the junction where his neck and shoulder meet. It’s going to take a while for you to function, the embarrassment still fresh and searing your soul. 

Kim Hong Jin "Horangi"

You swear you’re dating a giant cat, not a tiger. The ones that enjoy pushing a glass off the table while you’re looking and begging with your eyes not to. Smiling as some crying lady points at them over a salad. 

You’ve been shoving and pushing him by the shoulders, and so far you’ve successfully freed half of your upper body (more like that’s the only leeway he’s willing to give but you choose to ignore that).

“Hong Jin.” You pant between each word, exhausted and having much of your strength sapped out of you. “You need to let go.”

“싫은데?“ (Don’t want to?) 

…This man and his nerves. 

“No, seriously.” You nudge him, hoping it would get your message across. “I can’t even feel my legs.”

“Just five more minutes.” His groan coming out muffled from him burying his face into your tummy. 

Five minutes ago he said that. Which was also what he said five minutes before that. Now you’re uncomfortable, feeling the half of you he’s holding onto sweat while the other feels chilly from the sudden loss of heat. Worst is how effortless it is for him to keep you still, lazily lying on top of you being enough to stop you from worming yourself out. Like sure, you do enjoy how well-built he is but not like this! 

Sucking a breath in, you go back trying to pry yourself off as he stays where he is, eyes closed and a grin plastered on his face. 

König 

A king-size mattress. That’s what he is. And certainly feels that way too with how he easily engulfs both you and the bed. 

“Konig.” You gently shake him, only for him to turn his head. 

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry though, at the moment, it would hurt if you do either. Every time you try calling him out or getting his attention, he’d turn his head where he’d lie on one cheek then flip to the other. He doesn’t even make a sound. No harrumphs, grunts, or a sigh. All of you wanted to do was go get ready since the two of you are supposed to meet with his friends. Now? Not happening. 

“We need to get ready. It’s already quarter past five.” 

He squeezes your waist in response, snuggling himself into you. Just like a petulant kid, thinking if he doesn’t say anything and pretends to not hear you, you would stop. You try to slip from being underneath him, not enjoying being the filling in the mattress sandwich. Unfortunately for you, fortunately for him, you give up in less than ten seconds realizing how much you’d have to go through to just get a hand out. 

You raise your hand to place it on his shoulder until he stops you by grabbing at the wrist. He drags and presses it against his cheek, making you feel stubbles under your fingertips. Biting your lip, you close your eyes and mentally count from ten. 

“You better text them we’re not going.” You grumble, cupping his face in your hands. 

“Already did.”

You shake your head. This man.