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littlemonstrosityy · 8 days ago

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𝑨𝒔𝒌 𝑴�� 𝑨𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏 ~ Chapter One (Emily Prentiss x Fem Reader)

emily prentiss x fem reader

smut warnings: masturbation, accidental voyeurism, dirty talk, soft dom emily, aftercare

mutual pining, slow burn, emotional intimacy, one bed trope (kind of), emotional hurt/comfort word count: 4.5k

A motel room. A sideways glance. Questions that no one's supposed to ask. In quiet towns and quieter moments, Emily Prentiss and her fellow agent walk the line between professionalism and something far more dangerous.

You weren't supposed to see her like that. But Emily didn't close the door. And you didn't look away.

Read on AO3

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑶𝒏𝒆 - 𝑫𝒊𝒅 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑾𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉?

The sun was beginning to set over Westmore by the time you and Emily pulled into the parking lot of the small roadside inn the Bureau had booked. The drive from the local precinct had been long and mostly quiet, broken up by the occasional rustle of paper from the case files and the soft click of Emily’s pen as she scribbled something in the margins.

The case had already stretched two days longer than anticipated. Rural Vermont wasn’t exactly teeming with resources, and even though the local sheriff was trying his best, his version of organised chaos wasn’t exactly conducive to catching a serial offender. You were both tired, slightly wired from too much bad coffee, and layered in the quiet kind of frustration that came from waiting on lab results that never came.

Emily killed the engine and leaned back against the headrest for a beat longer than necessary. Her eyes fluttered closed, just for a second.

“Do we even remember what sleep is?” you asked, voice dry.

“Vaguely,” she murmured, cracking one eye open. “Pretty sure I used to do it horizontally. Can’t be certain.”

You both stepped out of the car at the same time. The inn wasn’t much to look at, white walls, a chipped wooden sign that read Pine Brook Inn, and two rows of exterior-facing doors that promised very little in terms of privacy or comfort. But it was the only option that didn’t involve an hour’s drive each way.

Inside the small lobby, the front desk was manned by a man in his seventies, wearing a cardigan and a vaguely disinterested expression.

“Checking in for the FBI,” Emily said smoothly, flashing her badge and her best diplomatic smile.

He squinted at the screen. “Prentiss and…” he checked again, “you must be the other agent. There was a bit of an issue.”

You felt a flicker of dread.

“There were two rooms booked,” he continued, “but unfortunately, due to a water leak on the second floor, we’re down a few. You’ve been moved to a suite–two bedrooms, shared living area. It’s all we’ve got unless you want to try the next town over.”

You glanced at Emily. She was already nodding.

“That’s fine,” she said. “We’ll take it.”

You didn’t argue. You didn’t want to drive another hour, and really, this wasn’t the first time you’d shared a space on assignment. It was part of the job. The Bureau didn’t exactly prioritise comfort.

Still, something about sharing the same living area–after this many days together, after too many late-night case discussions and half-smothered laughter in the precinct breakroom–felt… different.

The suite wasn’t awful. Small but clean. Two modest bedrooms, a shared bathroom with thin towels folded tightly on the counter, and a small living area with a creaky-looking couch and a TV that looked at least a decade out of date.

Emily threw her bag on the bed in the room on the left. You took the one on the right. The silence was companionable, familiar in a way that spoke to long hours spent side by side, finishing each other’s sentences at crime scenes or quietly passing over coffee when the other looked like she needed it.

You met again in the living room ten minutes later. Emily had taken her blazer off, revealing the soft black cotton of her long–sleeved top underneath. Her hair was down now, slightly tousled from the drive, and she had that look she wore when her mind was still on the case, even if her body had technically stopped working.

“Dinner?” you offered.

“There’s a Thai place across the road. I vote yes.”

You both grabbed your coats and made your way back into the chilled evening air. The walk was brief, quiet, the sky now fully dark above the sleepy town. You could feel the burn of your exhaustion behind your eyes, but Emily’s presence beside you was oddly grounding. Comfortable.

Dinner was eaten half in silence, half in soft conversation about the case. Talking about where the unsub’s comfort zone might be, how disorganised the latest dump site had been. Emily’s voice, low and certain, cut through your tiredness better than caffeine ever could.

By the time you returned to the suite, bellies full and the case debriefed as much as your brains could manage, it was nearing ten.

“I’m gonna shower,” you said, stretching your arms overhead. Emily’s eyes flickered toward you briefly, too briefly, if you hadn’t already gotten used to catching the way she sometimes looked away too quickly.

“I’ll go after you,” she replied.

You nodded and stepped into the bathroom, letting the door click shut behind you. The water was lukewarm at best, but the steam helped wash off the day, and for ten whole minutes, you let yourself relax. Not quite enough to forget the case. Definitely not enough to forget Emily.

When you returned to the living room in a tank top and joggers, Emily had curled up on the far side of the couch, her long legs folded under her, her own sweats now visible beneath a navy t-shirt you’d never seen her wear before. It looked soft. It looked like something she didn’t wear around anyone but herself.

“Feel better?” she asked.

You nodded, brushing a towel through your damp hair. “Yeah. You’re up.”

She passed by you with a quiet hum, close enough that her shoulder brushed yours for the barest second. You didn’t move.

Ten minutes later, she re-emerged, towel drying her own hair. She didn’t bother with makeup or any of her usual composure. In this setting, late at night and tucked away from the rest of the world, she looked… softer.

You were both seated on opposite sides of the couch, a local news channel murmuring in the background.

“We’re not gonna solve this tonight,” she said eventually, her voice low and quiet.

“No,” you agree. “But it’s close. I can feel it.”

She turned to look at you. Really look. “You always say that when you’re about to figure it out.”

You smiled. “I’m usually right.”

A beat. Her lips curled slightly.

“You are.”

It was nothing. Just a moment. But it lingered longer than it should have.

Eventually, she stood. “I’m gonna crash. We’ll be up early again.”

You watched her go, the soft pad of her feet on the thin carpet. Her bedroom door shut behind her, not all the way.

You stayed on the couch another minute, heart beating too fast for how uneventful the evening had been.

Then you turned off the TV and let yourself go to bed.

You were up before your alarm.

It wasn’t intentional. Your body just knew the weight of the case, the unfamiliar bed, the whisper of nerves that never quite settled when you were in a new town with an open case and too few leads. The soft hum of early morning filtered through the blinds in your bedroom, pale light stretching across the worn carpet. You checked your phone, 6:13 a.m.

Outside your room, it was quiet.

You changed into jeans and a sweater, tied your hair back, and padded barefoot into the common space. You didn’t expect Emily to be up yet; it was early, and she’d looked just as drained as you did the night before.

But she was already there.

Sitting at the small dining table tucked beside the kitchenette, hair still damp from a quick shower, sleeves pushed up, glasses perched low on her nose as she flipped through the open case file. A steaming cup of coffee sat within reach. A second mug, empty, sat beside it.

She didn’t startle when you walked in. She just looked up and offered a sleepy half-smile, like it was the most natural thing in the world for you to wake up and find her like this. Like she’d been expecting you.

“Didn’t think you’d beat me waking up,” you murmured, moving to the counter and filling the second mug. The hotel coffee was weak, but hot.

“I’ve been up since five,” she said, stretching slightly in her seat. “Kept dreaming about that second dump site. I kept walking the perimeter and ended up in the exact same spot every time. Frustrating as hell.”

You sat across from her, cradling your mug between your hands. “You know that probably means your subconscious is trying to tell you something useful, right?”

She arched a brow, lips quirking. “Are you psychoanalysing me?”

“Just observing,” you said, taking a sip. “Also, yes.”

Emily’s laugh was soft, tired but real. It pulled something warm from your chest.

The two of you settled into a loose rhythm. Coffee sips, low conversation, case notes swapped back and forth. She passed you a sticky note she’d scribbled on in the middle of the night. You pointed out something in the timeline that didn’t quite fit. She nodded slowly, her expression tightening in the way she got when her brain clicked into gear.

At one point, your fingers brushed as you both reached for the same file. Just a graze. Nothing, really.

But neither of you acknowledged it.

The sun had crept a little higher by the time you gathered your things for the precinct. Emily disappeared into her room to change, and you stood quietly in the common space, watching the way the light filtered through her half-closed door. Her silhouette moved easily in the background, unbothered and unguarded. It was the kind of unintentional closeness that had become common with her, and still somehow felt like too much.

When she emerged, she was back in full professional mode; blazer on, badge clipped, expression set. But her eyes flicked over you–once, quickly–and lingered just a second too long on your mouth before she looked away.

You grabbed the keys from the counter.

“Ready?”

Emily nodded. “Let’s go find this bastard.”

The drive to the precinct was quiet, as usual. But the space between you in the car felt heavier than it had yesterday.

The sky was already a deep, dusty purple by the time you and Emily left the precinct. The temperature had dropped sharply, the kind of cold that clung to your bones and made your breath fog against the windshield. Emily drove with one hand on the wheel, the other curled loosely in her lap, her eyes trained on the road with that distant, unreadable look she wore when she’d been in her head too long.

The case hadn’t broken today. You were close, so close, but the final piece wasn’t there yet, and it sat between the two of you like a third passenger.

Still, the silence didn’t feel uncomfortable. It never did with her.

You glanced sideways, letting your head rest against the cold window. “If we ever solve this thing, remind me to demand a week off. Minimum.”

Emily made a soft, amused sound. “A week? You’re thinking too small. I’m seeing a month. Beach. No phones. Zero responsibility.”

You laughed quietly. “You, on a beach, relaxing? I’d pay money to see that.”

“I can relax,” she said, mock-offended.

You turned to look at her. “Yeah? Prove it.”

Her lips curled. “Careful. I might take that as a challenge.”

The words hung in the air just a little too long. Neither of you looked at each other right away. The hum of the engine filled the silence like a buffer.

Eventually, she exhaled, fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel. “You’re in a mood tonight.”

You shrugged. “Long day.”

“Mhm.” She glanced at you sideways, brow lifted. “You get more dangerous when you’re tired, you know.”

“Dangerous?” you echoed, trying to keep your voice even.

She didn’t elaborate. Just smirked and turned back to the road.

By the time you pulled into the inn’s parking lot, the air between you was still buzzing. You didn’t say much as you climbed out of the car. You followed her up the narrow exterior stairs, the sound of your boots muffled on the worn-out carpet. Emily unlocked the door and pushed it open, then hesitated.

“You heading straight in?”

You shook your head. “I’m gonna take a quick walk. Need to call Garcia, see if she got those background reports.”

Emily nodded slowly. “Alright. Don’t freeze.”

You gave her a small smile as you backed away, tucking your phone into your coat pocket. “Try not to fall asleep without me.”

She paused, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face before she smiled, just faintly.

“No promises.”

When you turned away and headed down the stairs, you could still feel her eyes on your back.

You didn’t look back.

The door clicked shut behind Emily as she stood in the quiet for a moment, her hand still wrapped around the keycard.

The suite was warm. Dim. Quiet in that particular way only motel rooms managed, sterile and impersonal, but filled with the ghost of someone else’s presence. Your scent still hung faintly in the air, subtle and warm. Soap and something citrusy. Your coat was slung over the back of the chair by the kitchenette. Your shoes, abandoned by the door. It hit her harder than she expected.

She shrugged off her blazer, draped it over the couch, then pulled her hair out of its ponytail with a sigh. Her scalp ached. Her neck was tight. The stress of the case had built up in her shoulders like concrete, but it wasn’t just that. It was you. Your laugh, your sidelong glances, the easy way you’d flirted in the car with no idea what you were doing to her.

Or maybe you did know.

She changed into an old cotton tank and boyshorts, the fabric soft and worn. She told herself she’d just lie down for a minute, maybe read over the timeline again, let her brain unwind. But as she moved to her bedroom and climbed onto the sheets, the ache in her body wasn’t just tension anymore.

It was you.

She lay there for a while, one arm folded beneath her head, trying to will the heat away. But her body wouldn’t let it go. Not after the way you said, try not to fall asleep without me, soft and teasing, like you didn’t realise you were flirting. Or worse– like you did.

Emily let out a long breath through her nose and closed her eyes.

Her hand moved under the hem of her tank top slowly at first. Just resting against her stomach, then lower. She didn’t mean to. Not really. But the quiet made everything louder. Her breath, her thoughts, the phantom feel of your thigh pressed against hers in the car that afternoon you’d shifted too close.

Her fingers slid under the waistband of her underwear, just to ease the pressure building there. But the friction, the warmth of it, made her suck in a breath. She let her knees fall open, sheets pushed back now, the room heavy with heat. Her hand moved in slow, practised circles.

And then there was you again. In her mind, in her mouth. The way you’d licked your bottom lip while talking through the profile earlier. The softness in your voice when you said her name. The way you looked at her like she were more than just your colleague, the half-lidded look you gave her that one night in the bullpen when you were too tired to filter yourself.

She imagined you with that same look but darker. Hungrier. Your hands on her, slow and sure. Your mouth, soft and knowing, whispering her name just the way she liked it.

Her hips rolled subtly against her hand. Her other arm was flung over her face, eyes shut tight. Her breathing had picked up, quiet but shallow, the kind of sound she never made around anyone else.

She pushed herself closer, so close.

She didn’t hear the door open. Didn’t hear the soft creak of a boot on carpet, the slight intake of breath as you stepped into the common space and froze.

You hadn’t expected her to leave the door cracked open.

You hadn’t expected the light to be on, the blanket half-pushed down, her body moving so subtly beneath it. And you sure as hell hadn’t expected the sound.

It was soft. Barely audible. But unmistakable.

A low, breathy moan.

Her head tilted back slightly, hair splayed over the pillow, lips parted and glistening. Her hand moved under the covers, steady and sure now, chasing it. You couldn’t see everything. But you saw enough. Her knee shifting wider. Her back beginning to arch.

And then, her eyes still shut, her mouth parted with a low, shaking gasp. Her hips stilled and her jaw clenched as she came, sharp and quiet and aching.

You didn’t breathe.

Didn’t move.

Until the pen in your hand slipped from your grip and clattered loudly to the floor.

Emily’s eyes snapped open.

Her chest was still rising and falling, sweat-damp hair stuck to her cheek. She looked up sharply toward the sound, toward you, standing frozen in the doorway of the common space, the pen now lying useless on the carpet near your foot.

She didn’t speak. Neither did you.

Your hand shot out instinctively, grabbing the pen like it might erase what had just happened.

Like you hadn’t just watched Emily Prentiss come undone with your name caught somewhere between her lips and her breath.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, your voice tight with effort. “Didn’t mean to startle you. I just–Garcia had an update, and I thought–”

You gestured vaguely with your phone, eyes carefully avoiding her. “I didn’t know you were… I’ll, um. I’ll let you sleep.”

You turned, already halfway out the doorway, heart pounding in your throat, but her voice stopped you cold.

“Wait.”

It wasn’t sharp, but it wasn’t soft either. More like a quiet command, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to give.

You paused, back still to her.

There was a beat of silence between you. Then the sound of the blanket shifting. Fabric against skin. The squeak of the mattress as she sat up straighter.

“You saw.” It wasn’t a question.

You swallowed, fingers tightening around your phone. “Saw what?”

Emily let out a breath, shaky and bitterly amused. “Don’t do that.”

You turned, slowly. She was sitting upright now, legs drawn up loosely under the blanket, one hand dragging through her hair. The light behind her made her look almost ethereal, flushed and tousled and still visibly reeling from the high she hadn’t expected to share with anyone.

“I didn’t meanto–” you started.

“I know.”

“I wasn’t… I wasn’t spying.”

“I know that too.”

Another silence stretched between you. She didn’t look angry. She looked something else entirely. Raw, maybe. Embarrassed in a way that felt rare for her. But not ashamed.

“You left the door open,” you said, gently, not accusing.

Her eyes flicked to yours. “I didn’t think you’d come back so soon.”

You gave a breath of a laugh, dry and awkward. “Yeah. Bad timing.”

Emily tilted her head, studying you. “How long were you standing there?”

You hesitated.

Her gaze sharpened slightly. “Be honest.”

Your voice came low. “Long enough.”

A slow flush crept into her chest. She shifted under the blanket, but didn’t reach for modesty. She didn’t hide.

And then, quietly, “Did you like what you saw?”

She wasn’t deflecting. She wasn’t teasing. She was vulnerable, eyes soft and open in a way she never let herself be in daylight. This wasn’t Emily the profiler. This was Emily, bare and stripped down to want and fear and aching curiosity.

You stepped back into the doorway, the distance between you still just enough to be safe.

“I’ve thought about seeing you like that,” you admitted, voice quiet. “More times than I should.”

Something in her posture eased, just barely. But her mouth quirked, half sceptical, half something else.

“And you never said anything?”

You smiled faintly. “Didn’t think it was allowed.”

Emily’s eyes dropped for a second, lashes guarding her. “It’s not.”

Silence.

“But I wanted you to.”

That admission landed between you like a match on dry kindling. But instead of catching, it just sat there, sparking and threatening.

You took a step closer, in her bedroom doorway now. Not touching. Not yet.

“Do you want me to leave?” you asked, your voice low now, softer than you meant it to be.

Emily’s jaw tensed.

“No,” she said. “But if you stay…”

She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t have to.

You lingered, caught in the moment, the next move yours–but heavy with implication.

You didn’t leave.

Instead, you stepped into the room slowly, each breath heavier than the last. Emily’s eyes followed your every move, dark and unwavering. Her shoulders had relaxed a little, but the tension still coiled just beneath her skin. Tension that wasn’t from embarrassment anymore.

When you reached the edge of the bed, she looked up at you like she was making a choice she’d already made long ago.

“You need to know,” she said, voice low and steady, “if you touch me now, it won’t be innocent. I won’t pretend I don’t want it.”

You didn’t hesitate.

“I don’t want you to pretend,” you murmured.

That was all it took.

She reached up, slow and controlled, and placed a hand behind your neck, guiding you forward with maddening patience until your mouth hovered just above hers. Her breath tickled your lips.

“Tell me you’ve thought about it,” she said, voice dark and coaxing. “Tell me how many nights you’ve fallen asleep with your hand between your thighs, wishing it was mine.”

Your stomach clenched.

“Too many,” you whispered. “Too fucking many.”

Emily’s lips parted like a reward. “That’s what I want to hear.”

She kissed you, finally, and it wasn’t soft.

It was commanding. Precise. Her mouth fit over yours like she already knew what you liked, tongue teasing yours until you whimpered, her hand anchoring you in place. She didn’t fumble, didn’t hesitate. She kissed like she did everything else; deliberately, with an edge of control that made your knees shake.

When she pulled back, her mouth was slick, breath uneven.

“Get on the bed,” she said, voice firm but quiet. “Clothes off. Let me see what I’ve been missing.”

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t. Your fingers were shaking as you stripped out of your sweater and jeans, her eyes devouring every inch of exposed skin like it was something she’d been starving for. She stayed seated, watching you with a heat that made your pulse flutter in your throat.

“God,” she muttered, half to herself. “You’re even prettier than I imagined.”

You crawled onto the bed, nerves buzzing with anticipation and raw hunger. She met you there, hands gentle but assured, guiding you onto your back. She straddled your thigh and bent to kiss your neck, your collarbone, your breast. Everything but your mouth.

“You know how many times I’ve pictured this?” she murmured, fingers ghosting down your stomach. “Coming back from a case, having to pretend I’m not wet just from the way you say my name.”

You gasped as her fingers dipped between your thighs, not inside, just teasing. Barely there.

“And now look at you,” she whispered against your ear. “Already wet for me.”

“Emily–please–”

She laughed, low and dark. “You don’t beg yet. You’ll know when I want you to beg.”

Then her fingers finally slipped in. Two of them, smooth and deep. Your hips arched off the bed like you’d been waiting your whole life for that moment. She curled them perfectly, watching your face like it was her favourite thing to study.

“You’re so wet,” she murmured, pressing her thumb lightly to your clit. “So fucking perfect. Bet you’ve been dreaming about this too–me filling you up while you whimper into your pillow, afraid someone might hear.”

Your breath broke into fragments. She moved faster, not rough, but controlled. Every motion calibrated to your body, like she was learning your rhythm and rewriting it all at once.

“Touch yourself when I’m gone?” she asked, voice rough and low. “Bet you do. Bet you think about me. And now you’re here–on your back, shaking for me. Just like that, baby. Let me feel you lose it.”

You cried out, fingers twisting in the sheets as the pressure built hard and fast under her touch.

“That’s it,” she whispered. “I want you to come for me, just like I did for you. Let me see it.”

It hit you so hard your vision went white at the edges, your body spasming around her fingers, hips bucking as she kept working you through it, her name tumbling from your lips like a confession. She didn’t stop until you were gasping, trembling, lips parted in total surrender.

Then, and only then, did she ease her fingers out, slow and gentle, brushing your hair from your forehead.

Her voice softened.

“God, you’re perfect when you come.”

You looked up at her, dazed. “You… you talk a lot dirtier than I expected.”

She smirked. “Only when I really want someone.”

Your chest rose and fell too fast. “And do you?”

Her expression shifted, just slightly. The smirk faded, replaced by something quieter. More honest.

“I really do.”

Emily leaned down to press a slow, grounding kiss to your mouth. Gentler than the rest, her lips soft and careful.

Your fingers ghosted over her bare arm, and you tilted your head to whisper, “Do you want me to…”

She didn’t let you finish.

Her smile was knowing, lazy, flushed with power and affection. She leaned in, brushing her lips near your jaw.

“No,” she murmured. “Not tonight.”

You blinked up at her, surprised. “Why not?”

Her hand skimmed down your side, tender. “Because I want to fall asleep with your thighs still shaking. And tomorrow morning…” she kissed the corner of your mouth, voice low and certain, “you can return the favour.”

A rush of warmth flooded your chest that had nothing to do with arousal.

She sat back, brushing a thumb over your hip, and sighed softly. “Come on. Let’s clean up before I forget how to function.”

You both moved slowly, limbs still loose from pleasure. You pulled your shirt back over your head and slipped into the bathroom to splash cold water on your face, stealing glances at yourself in the mirror. You looked undone in the best way.

When you came back out, Emily was filling two glasses from the tap in the kitchenette. She handed you one wordlessly, the rim of hers pressed briefly to her lips. She flicked off the main light, then moved to the door, twisting the lock with one hand before turning out the lamp beside the couch.

All that remained was the glow from her bedroom lamp, soft and golden.

You followed her back toward it, both of you moving with that strange, quiet rhythm people fall into after sharing something that can’t be taken back.

She paused in the doorway, silhouetted in the warm light. Her expression was unreadable for a moment. Then it softened.

“Do you want to sleep in here with me?”

It wasn’t loaded. It wasn’t suggestive.

It was gentle. Something about the way she asked, like she was offering more than just a place in bed. Like she was offering something safer. Closer.

You nodded, your voice catching a little as you said, “Yeah. I do.”

She pulled back the covers and waited for you to climb in first, then slid in beside you, her body warm and close but not pressing. Her hand found yours under the blankets, fingers intertwining without a word.

For a long time, you didn’t speak.

And when you finally started to drift, you did so to the sound of her breath evening out beside you, and the feeling of her thumb gently brushing over your knuckles, like she still couldn’t believe you were real.

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Chapter Two

Masterlist

#emily prentiss #criminal minds #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #slow burn smut #wlw #wlw fanfic #wlw nsft #wlw yearning #lesbian #sapphic #gxg smut #smut

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alleyangelss · 2 months ago

Text

Sun & Moon

(Sophia x Reader)

Pairings: Bratty Duelist! Sophia x Fem Gryffindor Keeper! y/n(but not really a gryffindor...?)

Tags: Enemies to lovers, Brat & Brat tamer

Part of Series: Part 1 | Part 2 here

Sypnosis: Daniella...well, not just Dani ask you to substitute her in that week's quidditch matches. And gradually, one match turns into two, and then ten. And it's no problem at all. You're Ravenclaw's prized genius. Everything comes naturally. Now if only you could find a way to tame the problem that it seems both you and the Gryffindor quidditch team share.

Sophia Laforetza. She sabotages their quidditch maturnstches and always suceeds. Somehow. And you need to know. Not just because you're a sore loser, because you're a scholar at heart. And definitely not because you and her made a bet. Not at all.

Summary of chapter: You strike a deal with the teacher that seems a little too obsessed with quidditch scores. Good for you...or is it? (Are you sure that's the only deal going around..?)

So. You swear it was one time. Only one time. One match, just one match. Just one time to try out Daniella's broom, just a few hours free to fly around the pitch without judgement. Reliving your childhood without glances of judgement at why the Ravenclaw ace was currently 'partying' and 'fooling around' when they should be studying to keep up their spot. Ah, Ravenclaw. Your house, your beloved house. Wildly over-competitive and always prioritising grades and studies over all else. Cliques and groups formed on grade levels, specialities.

Probably why your house's quidditch team hadn't won in about fifty years, but alright. Not as if you were all losing about your biggest area of house points income possible. You often think that if they stuck out their snotty, haughty heads out of the mud for even just a little bit, they could see the potential. But of course not.

Which is why, of course. That you're here. The only reason you're here. You're frustrated, you're stressed. This is your release from your horribly swotty house.

"You know that you've been doing that trick for more than an hour at this point, right?" Dani speaks, and you manage to find her from the corner of your eye. From where you are, hovering over the quidditch rings, she looks like an ant. Yet you can still hear her. You grin to yourself. Your supersonic hearing and speaking charm worked. Of course, you weren't in Ravenclaw for nothing.

Her voice snaps out of your trance, however. You sneak a glance at the watch on your wrist, yet another gift from the girl below, and start lowering yourself into the ground.

"I think I've almost got it, Dani! Just a few more hours, please! I'm begging you-I'll literally do your charms home work for the next week, no month!" You give her your best puppy eyes while still floating a distance from the ground, as if keeping her broom hostage.

"You said that two hours ago, " she scoffs dramatically. "And charms is not even a big deal for you, you've always been acing that class. At least, you used to." She adds on the last bit hastily, as if mentioning it to trigger you. And she's right, it does. So why did your undisputed lead in charms get interrupted?

By a Slytherin student called Sophia Laforentza.

"Ugh, why'd you have to say that? She probably bribed the teachers or something. You know how Slytherins all are-"

You feel like a hypocrite. You are no better.

"And yet, she's still in the top two of all the classes you both share. I'm sure you've noticed that," Dani smirks. "It doesn't hurt to lose one of your little pawns once in a while, maybe it'll teach you some humility."

You groan and put your head in your hands, your feet now planted firmly in the ground and starting to stumble towards Dani.

"You think I haven't? I'm just...I don't know, I'm frustrated. I haven't-"

Dani's smug smirk turns into something else. Something...

"You've never lost before like this, huh?"

She's hit the nail in the coffin, but you don't want to admit that.

"It's only temporary. I'm sure the teachers just miscalculated the points or something. Besides, Ravenclaw still leads by more than three hundred. Three hundred!"

Dani sighs again, her eyes flickering softly, glancing at you, and then the broom, and then at someone in the distance. You see a flash of panic in her eyes before she turns your way.

"It's McGonagall, run-!"

The look of shock her name alone instinctually makes you and Dani race to the edges of the pitch, running straight into the changing rooms. You run and run, your faces both turning a slight shade of red that spreads softly over your cheeks and you can feel the adrenaline pump through your veins. Despite the panic, there's a wide, wide grin spreading on your face. It seems that the thrill, the risk of getting caught just does it for you. Apparently it doesn't for your dear friend, however. Dani pants and kneels till she palms touch her knees while she catches her breath.

"What the-I told you we should've-we should've left earlier. We could've gotten caught, and I do NOT want to do detention with McGonagall again."

You giggle remembering the time Dani got caught by McGonagall, your transfiguration professor, in the owlery after bedtime trying to get a gift mailed to someone that was home sick. You never did get the details of the punishment, though.

Meow~

"Did you hear that?" Dani's voice travels to you, but you're already up and moving to the side of the rooms, where a little gray cat lays.

"Ohh, you're so cute! I didn't know Hogwarts had a cat! Dani, you've got to-"

But you never get to finish your sentence.

"I assure you, Miss Y/N, Hogwarts does not have resident stray cats."

Before you stands Professor McGonagall. Of course. Your shitty luck was bound to catch up to you eventually. She seems confused though, as if waiting for you to ask her what just happened, but you're definitely not going to give her the satisfaction.

"Animagus? A cat, I presume." You give a slight smirk, and it deepens when she seems taken aback.

"Why, Miss Y/N, I guess at least this assures me you pay attention in my classes. Though you've been slipping recently, mm? Losing your place to..."

Damnit. Of course McGonagall would-

"But no matter. Unfortunately, or rather fortunately for you, I'm not here to give you detention today." She gives you a small smile, but it's a genuine one.

And yet you can't help be scared. There are those people in the world, of course. Those people where a grim look on their face is far, far more comforting and assuring than any kind of smile. And you're pretty sure Professor McGonagall is one of them.

You can see the lights in her eyes come alive, and for a while, she seems like one of those portraits that you and Dani always argue with-those that come alive when the lights hit them just right.

"I must've misheard you Professor, not detention? Are you perhaps in need of medical assistance?"

You want to slap yourself the moment it comes out of your mouth. Seriously? You got lucky, and then absolutely butchered it. Weirdly, as if things couldn't get weird enough, she still smiles. In fact, her grin gets wider.

Alright, this is getting a bit unusual for you. You start to back away slowly, thinking this is some kind of illusion spell casted by Dani to get revenge on you for, well, god knows at this point, but-

"I've been watching you and Miss Daniella on the pitch since the start of the evening. Your skills...are excellent, to say. I've never seen anyone be able to attempt such since, well, Harry Potter himself."

You wait for her to get to the point, getting more confused by the second.

She starts her next sentence with a deep sigh, before continuing.

"I'm sure you know the state of the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw teams by now. Ravenclaw...well, no one's expecting them to come out on top, needless to say. I assume that you yourself know the nature of your house and it's residents. As for my house, however..."

"Gryffindor has not won a single match this year, and honestly, I myself struggle to understand. It's as if...nevertheless, I came to speak with you on an important matter."

You want to ask her what she was planning to say before stopping, but you catch your tongue before you do something stupid again. As if anything you did tonight wasn't already the definition of it, but you digress.

"Fifty house points."

What?

"Miss Y/N, I propose again, fifty house points for every match you win for Gryffindor house."

What...?

"Recently, a few of our star players have left due to falling morale, the losses. You have the talent, and pure skill. Disguise as a Gryffindor player, and play for our house. All the players on the team will know, and besides me and you, no one else. You are free to give and use the house points as you wish."

"You can't be serious, Professor-isn't this...?"

She gives a small smile at you, and you can't lie. You are far, far away from feeling guilty or apprehensive about taking this deal. You're smiling too, and your palms are sweating, not from nervousness, but from...

Excitement.

"My, I didn't expect one of the school's biggest trouble-makers to question my care and interest in Gryffindor standings."

But she's joking. She's smiling.

You don't even need to think for an answer. It's everything you've wanted, now justified. Flying on a broom again. And your main goal too, beating...

God, even the thought of saying her name just strikes something in you.

"Deal."

And yet, before McGonagall leaves, she glances towards the spot that you know Dani is hiding it.

"Miss Daniella, you will be receiving detention Friday evening. I expect you to be punctual."

You muffle your giggles, and you catch her glancing back at you. You try your best to straighten your face.

But she smiles and just walks away, before transfiguring into a cat a few steps later.

notes:

The next few parts, well, the whole series will be quite long in general. This is just a short introduction to the plot, the starting of it all.

#sun!moon #sophia x reader #katseye #katseye sophia #katseye daniela #reader x idol #fluff #enemies to lovers #katseye megan #alternate universe #sophia x y/n #sophia laforteza #sophia laforteza x reader #gg fics #sophia x fem reader #writing

260 notes · View notes

carlottawllms · 2 months ago

Text

Last Kiss

Mason Mount x Reader Angst / Fluff Autor’s note: SURPRISE 🥳 I’m not back, I’m sorry, but this has been sitting in my drafts for way too long and I once promised @bluesmason to get it done for her, so here we are. This isn’t even close to being my best work, but I promise I tried my best and I feel like it’s on an okay-enough level to be posted.

If you feel like it, let me know what you think. Enjoy! 💕

You’d lost track of how often you’d checked the time within the past 30 minutes, but it had been often enough to realise he wasn’t coming home like he’d promised.

Sighing, you raised your gaze to the ceiling. Tears were burning behind your eyes at the thought of him having forgotten; again, but you refused to let them fall. There had been far too many times lately, that you’d cried because of that dickhead you called your boyfriend.

Not anymore though.

You’d promised yourself that. Yourself and your dignity. You were worth far more than that. You were worth someone making an effort for you. Someone keeping the promises they’d made.

You were worth being seen as an equal part of the relationship instead of just an annoying appendage that kept asking for attention and time.

Because that’s what you’d been feeling more often than not lately. Like someone who was taken for granted. Maid, cook, girlfriend when it suited him. But as soon as you asked him to show the smallest bit of effort to support you, it was too much. You were too much.

But you were done with it.

With a newfound strength, you got up from the table and grabbed the bag you’d oh so wisely packed this morning.

The whole day you’d been praying Mason would prove you wrong and be back in time for you both to leave to celebrate your promotion, but just like the 7 times before, your gut feeling hadn’t betrayed you.

“I tried.”, you whispered sadly when you placed an envelope on the kitchen counter, knowing it was where he was guaranteed to find it once he was back home. “I’m sorry.”

Your heart broke as you let your gaze wander over the kitchen and living room one last time. Many beautiful memories were attached not only to both rooms, but to the whole house that you’d called home for the last two years.

You still remembered the look on his face right before he told you he loved you for the very first time. The two of you had been cuddling on the sofa, you safely in his arms when Mason had pulled away slightly. His eyes had been the softest you’d ever seen them, the nerves evident on his features, but he’d smiled and whispered those three words.

When had he stopped?

For weeks, you’d wrecked your brain, trying to find an answer to that question, but it had been hopeless and you’d come to the conclusion that there was no reason. He’d simply stopped loving you. And you had no idea how to be something he’d miss.

You’d tried – a hell of a lot – but you couldn't do it anymore.

It was time. Time to prioritise yourself; to protect yourself.

With that thought, you hurried down the hall and closed the front door behind you. And with it a chapter of your life you’d never thought you would. There was a time before Mason and there was a time with Mason, but you’d never thought there would be a time after Mason.

You’d never imagined you’d end like this.

Mason was out of breath when he reached his front door. He was late, well aware of it and he hoped you wouldn’t be too mad at him, but the media team had asked him to stay back and take some trial shoots for the newest merch collection. It was his job, he couldn’t just refuse, right?

“y/n?”, he called whilst entering the house. “I’m late, I’m sorry I was held up. y/n? Love?”

But there was no answer, just silence.

“Fuck.”, he cursed, realising you’d already left, but he knew he could still make it if he just hurried a little. You’d said you’d have to leave at 6, but the event wouldn’t start until 8. With it being 7:15 now, it would be a bit tight, but-

His thoughts came to a screeching halt the second his gaze fell on the bright white envelope sitting on his kitchen island. It wasn’t so much the envelope itself that had his heart dropping to his stomach, but the neatly folded hoodie right next to it.

It was your favourite one. The one you’d basically stolen from him the second you’d gotten into this relationship. He hadn’t seen it since…

Mason’s hands shook when he ripped the envelope open and pulled out the handwritten letter you’d left.

When his knees suddenly buckled, Mason just about managed to catch himself and sink down on the chair.

“No.”, he breathed. “No, this…this…FUCK!”

He buried his face in his hands as a sudden urge of anger rushed through him. You had been the best thing that had ever, like ever happened to him and instead of protecting you and this relationship, he’d let it slip through his fingers.

No, he’d singlehandedly fucked it up and pushed you down the cliff. Slowly but surely, he’d let go of your hand and now you’d left for good.

He should’ve seen it coming and done everything to prevent it from happening, but instead he felt as if he’d been watching his downfall from first row:

You were mad; the look on your face more than obvious when he slowly inched closer. You’d just gotten back from this thing with your friends – something he’d been meant to attend as well, but just like the last couple of times, work had held him up.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know I-”

“You promised to be there.”, you said; your voice uncharacteristically cold. “You promised Mason. And yet there I was on my own again. This was important to me. I asked you to be on time this one time cause I wanted you to be there with me, hell I told them you’d be there. And again, you just didn’t care.”

“That’s not tru-”

“Do I even matter to you? Cause right now I feel more like I'm an annoying appendage that's only good enough when it suits you.”

He’d promised it wasn’t what he felt at all. He’d told you he loved you and swore that the next time he’d be there; 100%.

“I swear, I’ll just leave if you do this again, Mason.”

But instead of sticking to his word, he’d let you down – big time. And the worst thing was that he’d done it on multiple occasions: being late, forgetting altogether, cancelling last minute via text.

It wasn’t an excuse, but there had been so much going on lately, he’d simply struggled to set his priorities right.

“I’m sorry, y/n.”, he whispered, feeling like the worst person in the world for failing you like this. Tears pricked in his eyes, but he knew it hadn’t really sunken in yet that you’d actually left.

Not when your familiar scent was still lingering in the air, making him feel as if you’d come home any second now. But you wouldn’t.

“I really fucked this up.” Mason ran his hand over his face before grabbing the hoodie you’d left behind. It still smelled like you, making memories of the first time he’d seen you wearing it resurface:

It was raining when Mason stepped out of the plane and down the ladder, the smell of rain fresh off the pavement one of his favourites, but he didn’t even notice it this time; his mind already set on the only person he wanted to see: you.

You’d called him the night before and told him you’d pick him up so you could spend the night at his after having been apart for nearly two weeks and he’d never been happier.

After making it through passport control, he was quick in hurrying towards the exit and when the sliding doors opened his gaze flitted over the small crowd of girlfriends and wives waiting for their partners.

He knew you wouldn’t be front row jumping up and down, so he focused more on the women in the back and soon enough, his gaze fell on you. Your hair was up in a messy bun, some loose strands framing your face and a small smile on your lips, but what had his heart leaping out of his chest was the sweater you were wearing. It was one of his favourites and he wondered when you’d stolen it without him noticing, but then again, he didn’t really care.

You looked too adorable basically drowning in the fabric and you seemed cosy, with your hands disappearing in the long sleeves.

It didn’t take long for you to notice him, a brighter smile washing over your face almost immediately when your eyes locked and Mason’s heart skipped a beat. You were always beautiful to him, but in that moment dressed in his clothes and those tired eyes on him, he thought you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and he couldn’t believe his luck to have you waiting for him.

He hurried over to you, observing the way you said goodbye to Laura before turning towards him. It was obvious how you wanted to jump right into his arms, but feeling everyone’s eyes on you, you held back and waited for him to reach you before wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him close.

“Hi love.”, Mason whispered. With his nose buried in your hair, he breathed in the familiar scent of your shampoo. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”, you admitted quietly and after a second of enjoying his heartbeat against your cheek, you pulled away slightly. Head tipped back a little, you gazed into his warm brown eyes. Your fingers played with the short hair on the back of his head and when Mason finally leaned down to meet your lips in a soft kiss, you wrapped your arms back around his neck.

Mason’s heart squeezed uncomfortably in his chest. He could still feel your arms wrapped around him; the way your warm hands would hold onto his shoulders and the way it would feel to have you kissing him.

“Fuck!”

He knew it would be a futile attempt, but he still reached for his phone and tried to call you. Obviously, it went straight to voicemail – if cause you’d turned it off or simply rejected his call, he didn’t know.

But having known you for a while, he knew it would be a futile attempt to reach out to you again today. You were someone who needed time for things to settle. He’d try tomorrow.

There were no tears as you drove through the streets. You knew it would come crashing down on you soon enough, crushing your heart and making you hurt like never before, but in that moment, all you could feel was emptiness.

For years all you’d known was Mason right next to you; holding your hand through every storm and fighting your corner. No matter the fight, you knew at the end of the day, you’d make up and hug it out.

But this time it would be different. He wouldn’t come home and apologise quietly. He wouldn’t smile at you softly and tell you it’s okay and you’d both messed up. You wouldn’t cuddle up on the couch, holding onto each other for dear life.

This time, you were on your own.

When you arrived at the restaurant your boss had rented for this years promotion event, you felt like everything but going in. The thought of the empty seat with Mason’s name tag right next to yours made you feel sick to the stomach and you weren’t sure how to survive the evening.

You’d been looking forward to it for weeks now, excited at the prospect of finally claiming the reward you’d been working your ass off for and the idea of having Mason right beside you…

Well…it wasn’t more than a fantasy anymore.

Despite the positivity of you getting your promotion, it was an awful evening.

You weren’t sure how you’d managed to get through the evening without shedding a single tear considering how badly they’d been burning behind your eyes and threatening to spill over whenever someone asked about the empty seat next to you.

“He woke up sick this morning and couldn’t attend.”, you’d been repeating throughout the whole evening, earning pity looks and encouraging replies that he surely was proud and rooting for you from home.

It had been awful.

After driving around aimlessly for a while, trying to calm yourself down, you eventually parked your car in front of the only house you thought was appropriate.

You knew Anouska or Laura would’ve taken you in; hell you could’ve driven to London to Sophia or Ben, but putting the burden of keeping it a secret on either of Mason’s friends shoulders felt unfair and nothing you wanted to do.

This was something between you and him. His friends didn’t have to be involved.

And your best friend? Well, it was her birthday tomorrow and no matter just how much the aftermath of today would hurt you, you wouldn’t ruin the day for her. So asking her to stay was off the table.

Slowly, with your bag hanging from your shoulder, you walked up the familiar front door. You knew there was no need for it, but it still felt humiliating – having to ask your brother and his perfect family to let you stay cause yet another relationship of yours had failed.

Elliott opened the door with that radiant smile like he always would, but his expression dropped when he spotted his little sister standing in front of his door with red-rimmed eyes and a heavy looking bag in her hand.

“y/n? C’mon in.” He gently pulled you inside by your elbow and closed the door before taking another look at you. “What happened?”

“Can I stay for a while?”

Elliott was quick in nodding. “Course you can. You’re always welcome here, you know that. Do you just…want to, I don’t know, talk about it maybe?”

“I…erm…not really, to be honest.”, you whispered as you could feel the tears already brimming in your eyes again. “It’s just…I…look, Mason and I we erm…broke up and I don’t think I’m ready to…to talk about it.”

“I’m really sorry, y/n.”, he breathed before pulling you into a tight hug. “It’s okay that you don’t want to talk now, but if you ever feel like you need someone to listen, I’m here, okay?”

He kissed the top of your head and squeezed you, causing the tears to finally spill over.

“Thanks.”, you sniffed.

Elliott quickly set up the guest bedroom for you and after he handed you a cup of your favourite tea, he left you alone and when the door gently snapped closed behind him, leaving you in a safe place for the first time this night, you broke down.

It all came crashing down; the disappointment, the loss, the all-consuming pain you felt all over your body, but especially in your heart. You’d been through break-ups before, but not a single one of those had been as painful as this one.

The heartbreak over the only person you’d ever truly loved in life just hit harder.

Mason had been your everything – your best friend, your rock, your safe haven. Knowing he’d never judge you or think less of you, you’d never felt the need to pretend when you were around him. He’d made you feel safe and secure in yourself; he’d talked you up, fought your corner and showered you in as much love and care as you did him. He’d been the most perfect human being you’d ever come across.

And he’d been yours as much as you’d been his.

Sighing, you forced yourself off the bed and into the shower, convinced it would make you feel better, but when you stepped out of the steaming bathroom and rummaged through your bag for some comfortable clothes, the only thing you found was an oversized, dark-blue hoodie.

Mason’s.

Packing your bag, you hadn’t even noticed you’d grabbed it. It must’ve been out of habit really, as you never left with one of his hoodies, considering how comfy and big they were.

Sobbing quietly, you buried your nose in the fabric, hoping it would still smell like him and when it actually did, your heart clenched painfully. You tried your best to calm yourself down as you didn’t want to alert your brother or his wife, but the overwhelming sadness made it difficult to breathe.

“I miss you so much.”, you choked, sinking to your knees. You clutched the hoodie to your chest. It wouldn’t bring Mason back, but it felt a lot like keeping your heart from breaking even further apart.

With the piece of fabric in your arms, you just stared at the wall, wondering where you’d go from here. What would you do now that you’d lost him?

You felt like all of sudden you knew nothing anymore. With Mason everything had been so obvious and so easy, but now that he was gone you just felt all over the place. Should you stay in Manchester? Or go back to London?

What if he was going to fight for you? And what if he wasn’t?

You had broken up with him, but you weren’t sure if you were ready for him to give up on you.

How could you be something he’d miss? Miss you properly, like you were missing him.

The tears had dried on your face when you eventually felt strong enough to get up and hide away under the bedsheets. Not that relocating made any difference as your thoughts still surrounded Mason and Mason only.

You wished there was a way to fix things. You wished Mason would somehow, miraculously fix it like he’d always done.

Throughout your relationship, there had hardly been anything he hadn't been able to fix. A bad mood? He’d always had a bad joke ready to cheer you up. Sadness? He’d simply taken you in his arms and held you until your heart had felt a little lighter. And whenever you’d been really down, he’d always found the right words to make you feel better.

But the one thing that would always lighten your mood? His kisses.

You were convinced they were magical and possessed the power to make everything right and you hated, how you couldn’t even remember properly the last one you’d shared.

It had been this morning. You’d been in the kitchen, preparing your lunch, when he’d joined you. He’d wrapped his arms around you, swaying you from side to side and confessed quietly how he really didn’t want to leave.

You’d laughed and started to lecture him in jest how him leaving was paying the bills, but Mason had only turned you in his arms and kissed you mid-sentence to shut you up.

He’d had a habit of doing that; kissing you when you were in the middle of saying something. It hadn’t even been long and you were missing those rude interruptions already.

You’d never thought you’d have a last kiss. And now you wished you’d focused more on how his lips had felt against yours this morning; wished you’d pulled him back in instead of ushering him out the door, thinking you’d get to kiss him again later that night.

It was like that one memory had opened the gate to hell, as memories came flooding back with no end in sight. Just like your tears.

Laughingly, you shook your head when Mason beckoned you over to him. He was the life of the party like just about always, slightly showing off without coming across as arrogant and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his antics. You hated dancing and really didn’t want to join him, but Mason being Mason, he always got what he wanted, so when you walked a little closer and he held out his hand, you took it and let yourself pull into his chest for a slow dance. “I know you hate this.”, he giggled softly, causing you to shake your head. “No, I don’t. Not when it's with you.”

Not long ago, you’d watched several videos on tiktok where women talked about random things they found attractive on their men. You’d struggled trying to come up with something yourself, as none of the things that made Mason attractive were random, but then one day, when you were looking at pre-game videos, it hit you. The way he was walking with his hands in his pockets was something so normal, yet insanely attractive to you and ever since you’d realised it, you hadn’t been able to forget about it or not notice it whenever it happened.

Barely breathing, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand. You knew it was a bad idea and wouldn’t do you any good, but you still opened the gallery, loosing yourself in the fond memories of happy days.

Your chest caved when realisation hit that from this point on this would be your reality. You’d have to watch his life in pictures like you used to watch him sleep peacefully right next to you.

The longer you swiped through the photos, the more rapid your breathing became. The photos turned blurry as tears you didn’t know you still had were threatening to spill over again and that’s when it hit you with full force.

You’d lost him. The best thing you’d ever had in life.

The next morning, you were woken up by someone gently brushing through your hair.

“y/n, love. How are you feeling?”

“Like death warmed up.”, you admitted, earning yourself a compassionate look from Maddie, your sister-in-law.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I…I don’t think so.”, you smiled sadly. “It’s…it just hurts a lot and…I have to try and keep it together for today. It’s Tamara’s birthday and I really don’t want to ruin it for her.”

“I think she would understand, you know?”

Tamara was your best friend and one of the most important people in your life. You’d met her in primary school and the two of you had been a package deal ever since.

You were in no mood to go – especially as she’d decided she wanted to go out partying – but you knew you couldn’t miss it without having an explanation and despite the fact you didn’t want to ruin her day, you also weren’t ready to talk about your break-up yet.

“Yeah, she would.”, you agreed. “But I don’t want to tell her yet. She’s going to worry like crazy and I just want her to enjoy her day, you know?”

“Okay.”, Maddie smiled. Whilst she wasn’t entirely happy with your decision, she understood. “There’s breakfast waiting for you in the kitchen. I know you don’t want anything, but you have to eat something. It’s just us two and I won’t pester you with questions, promise. Just know that if you want to talk at some point, I’m happy to listen.”

Tamara’s birthday was as exhausting as you’d expected it to be. Not because her and your mutual friends were, but because pretending to be happy was.

You were dancing and laughing along; trying to appear as normal as possible, but everything inside you felt like crawling into bed and crying. Your heart felt heavy and everything reminded you of Mason.

Tamara had chosen a rather posh and famous club in Manchester; one that you’d been to with Mason and some friends before. He’d sat next to you in the booth, his hand on your thigh and fingers drawing gentle shapes into your warm skin. Every once in a while, he’d kissed your cheek or forehead and whispered sweet nothings into your ear. He’d made you feel loved without doing much.

“Anyone another drink?”, Carla asked when the waiter approached. Since you’d decided to stay away from the alcohol, you ordered another virgin colada right after the others had given their orders.

In the first round, the girls had been more than confused and ready to protest when you’d given your order, but you’d brushed them off, saying you’d taken your migraine meds before and thankfully everyone had bought it.

You would’ve loved to get drunk and try to numb your pain, but alcohol really wasn’t a good idea in the setting you were in. It wouldn't have taken long for you to spill the beans and ruin the evening for everyone.

“y/n! Photo, c’mon!”, Tamara all but screeched as she pulled you into her side rather forcefully. “Say cheese!”

Quickly, you shook yourself out of it and plastered a grin on your face and hoped it didn’t look half as fake as it felt.

In Luke’s living room, Mason was hoping to distract himself from everything. After barely getting any shut eye the night before and fucking up just about everything at training, he’d confided in Luke and told him you’d left him.

Luke – equally as close to you as to Mason – had been on the brink of murdering his friend for being a stupid arsehole, but Anouska being the voice of reason had calmed him down enough for a proper talk.

Mason was scrolling mindlessly through Instagram, not really looking at anything, when a post caught his eye. “Oh.”, he breathed, his heart dropping into his tummy.

“You’re okay mate?”

Wordlessly, he handed Luke his phone. He knew he had no right to be mad, as he was the one who brought himself the misery, but he was still upset to see you all smiles in a club.

He’d thought you’d be sad after having been with him for so long; after sharing what he thought was the best time of your lives together; but the way you were smiling brightly looked everything but.

He could feel the tears burning behind his eyes, but despite his best efforts to keep them in, they slowly rolled down his raw cheeks. And he deserved it; the pain, the suffering, the tears. He deserved it all, he knew.

This morning, he’d tried calling you again – a couple of times in fact – but you hadn’t answered. Not that it was surprising, but he’d wanted to make it right, to apologise and to fight for you and you not answering wasn’t helping his case at all.

Neither did the photos Tamara had posted though. It didn’t seem like you wanted him to fight for you…you seemed happy…

“Mase, it’s her best friend’s birthday. You know y/n, she’d do everything to make sure Tamara has the best day.”

Mason sighed. Luke was right, it was just who you were. You put the people you cared about first; always focused on making sure everyone was happy before thinking about yourself. It was one of the things Mason loved about you so dearly.

“I know but…I could always tell when a smile was faked or when she was pretending in front of others. This just doesn’t-”

“It’s a photo Mase. She probably plastered that smile on her face thinking about how bloody forced it must seem. I know you think you can tell 10 times out of 10, but this is her smiling for her best friend. It’s different. Give her some time and reach out again, I’m sure this is fixable.”

Luke sounded so optimistic, Mason really wanted to believe him, but all things considered, he had fucked up so badly, he wasn’t sure there was anything left to fix. Over the span of weeks, if not months, he’d made everything but you a priority and he couldn’t even begin to imagine just how much it must’ve hurt.

“I don’t know, mate.”, he sighed. “I’ll message her later to apologise and make sure she knows I respect her decision.”

“Look, that’s just stupid. Don’t make her feel like you give up on her.”

“Luke, I’ve either ignored or forgotten any of her wishes for the past week like they didn’t matter at all. The worst thing I can do right now is ignoring her request for space as well.”

Luke sighed, contemplating taking away Mason’s phone before he could fuck up things beyond repair, but he knew that his friend was enough of an adult to make his own decisions. The two of you belonged together, there was no doubt, but there was only so much he could do to try and save a relationship that wasn’t his own.

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea Mase.”

But against all warnings, he sent the message before hiding away in his bed. Not knowing that it would shatter your heart all over again.

The days following the break-up felt worse than your own personal nightmare. The years you’d spent by Mason’s side had made the roots of your feelings grow deep and since the finality of his text, it felt like every single root was being slowly and agonisingly pulled out of your heart.

Your heart hurt like a little bitch, and it got worse with every passing day. After days of crying, it shouldn't be possible for a human body to produce any more tears, but your body proved you wrong.

You agonised through every day, never really sure how you’d made it through another one.

At first you’d wanted to go to work, thinking a little distraction would do you good, but on the very first day you felt so sick at the thought of work that you’d called to take sick leave for the week.

Elliott and Maddie were doing everything they could to make sure you didn’t spiral too badly, but with you shutting down basically every attempt they could only do so much.

Most of the day, you just stayed in bed, staring at the ceiling and focusing on taking deep breaths instead of looking at photos of your failed relationship all day long.

You missed him like crazy; like you’d never missed anyone before. But then again you weren’t really surprised. Mason had been your best friend, your person. You’d thought that one day you’d marry him and up until a little while ago you’d thought he wanted the same…

It was day 5 post break-up when you left the bed for the first time. Elliott had all but threatened to call your mum and since you knew she’d kick your arse for feeling sorry for yourself, you’d peeled yourself out of bed.

“Look, I know you won’t be too fond of the idea, but I really need you to pick up some pre-ordered stuff for Maddie’s birthday tomorrow.”

“El-”

“I’d do it myself, but I have a meeting in less than 10 minutes and I really don’t want Maddie to pick it up herself.”

You sighed but nodded slowly. Going out there and actually talking to people was pretty much the opposite of what you wanted to do, but your brother and his wife had been nothing short of supportive those last days and even in your current sorry state, you didn’t want Maddie to go and pick up food for her own birthday.

The short walk and breathing in some of that crisp air, as well as the thought of doing something good for someone else, made you feel a little better, but the second you stepped foot into the restaurant, you stopped dead in your tracks.

There he was. Sitting at one of the tables to your right. Your first instinct was to look who he was with and whilst it threw you off entirely to see him in the first place you were relieved to see Luke sitting opposite of him.

You realised too late that the latter had noticed you too. His eyes locking on yours with what you could only describe as a hopeful look, but you just shook your head; wordlessly telling him not to alert Mason of your presence.

He visibly sighed but returned his attention to Mason. Just like you did.

He was sitting sideways to you and you couldn't see much, but it seemed like he was just staring straight ahead and not taking in much of what Luke was saying. Slumped in his seat, his usually tamed hair was a mess on top of his head.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looked sad as even from your position you could tell that his eyes looked nothing like the bright ones you were used to, but his text from a few days ago was still looming in the back of your head; painfully reminding you that he wasn’t willing to fight for you and you shook yourself out of it.

He wasn’t sad…it was just what you wanted to believe to mend your broken heart. He wasn’t missing you the way you were missing him.

Straightening up, you made your way over to the till. You chose the long way, to stay hidden away from Luke and your ex and thankfully a member of staff was already there to enter your order number into the system. With a Just a minute he went to grab it from the back.

“Hey.”

“Hi. Sorry I don’t have much time.”, you said bluntly in hopes of brushing him off, but Luke didn’t budge.

“How are you.”

You couldn’t help but make a face. Was he being serious? “Great obviously.”

“y/n.”, Luke sighed quietly. “He miss-”

“Don’t even dare going there, Luke.”, you shook your head, unwilling to hear the words missing you and have your heart breaking all over again. “He messaged me a few days ago, telling me he respects my decision. That’s quite the opposite of missing me, if you ask me.”

Luke sighed again. “I know.”, he agreed quietly. “I told him not to do it cause I knew what it would look like. It’s just…he saw the photos Tamara posted and concluded that you’re better off without him, that you’re happier without him. I…he’s a guy and…we don’t handle reaction very well, you know?”

“Wow…didn’t think you’d actually be on his side after everything.”

“I’m not trying to make up excuses here, don’t get me wrong, y/n. I’m just trying to explain what he’s going through and…he’s heartbroken. He really is.”

“Quite hard to believe.”, you dismissed, trying to avoid letting what he was saying affect you. “He never even attempted to fight for us. A very few calls and then that fucking text…and you really want me to believe he misses me?”

“Remember the photo you both had in your car? The drive safe, I love you one? His still in there.”

“He probably just forgot it’s there.”

“No, cause whilst yours is, well maybe was visible in the compartment at the front, his is dangling from the mirror.”

Unsure of what you should say, you stayed quiet.

“Look, I know it’s a shitty situation and I know I don’t really know what led to all of this, but…just…think about it, y/n. He knows he fucked up and he misses you like crazy. Please just take my word for it.”

“As much as I want to believe that, I won’t reach out Luke. I ended things because he constantly made me feel like an afterthought in his life and I’m really sick of it. It hurt, you know? If he misses me like you say he does, it’s on him.”

For a few days you heard nothing from Mason. No attempted calls, no messages, just a big fat nothing. After your conversation with Luke you’d thought that maybe, just maybe he’d meant it and Mason would reach out and at least attempt to fix what wasn’t more than a shattered relationship anymore, but it looked like your gut feeling had been right – once again.

You tried your best to get your life back under control. It was hard, but somehow you managed to show up in your office after taking a week off and get some actual work done without starting to cry.

Your brother and his family as well as Tamara, who you’d told eventually, were your biggest supporters and you knew if it wasn’t for them, you’d probably still be rotting away in Elliott’s guest bedroom.

Instead, with their help, you’d found a cute little flat, decorated it and made it feel like your safe space. Step one on a very long road of healing.

A knock at your door pulled you out of your thoughts. Ollie, your boss’ assistant smiled hesitantly as he came in.

“This arrived for you this morning.” You furrowed your brows as he handed you a small package. It didn’t look like something a client would send; wrapped in light green wrapping paper and a small white tulip sitting on top.

“Who sent it?”

Ollie just shrugged. “Diane didn’t say. She just said it was left for you at the reception and since I went to grab something anyway, I figured I could just take it up to you.”

“Thank you, Ollie.”, you smiled and with a shy nod, he hurried out of your room.

The tips of your fingers traced the outlines of the package. Who would send you a gift on a random Wednesday? It was far from being your birthday, definitely not Christmas and whilst Tamara was one for sending gifts you knew that right now, she preferred other ways of being there for you.

Carefully, you unwrapped it and when you came face to face with the book you’d been meaning to buy, your breath caught in the back of your throat. Not because it was something you’d been wanting for half an eternity, no, but because there was only one person, you’d told about it.

After days of silence and the feeling that he’d given up on you without even trying, he sent you a book completely out of the blue and you weren’t sure what to feel.

It was so…unexpected. Cause whilst Mason had always been one to gift you small things, it hadn’t happened in a while.

When you eventually picked the book up, to throw away the wrapping paper, a small piece of paper fell out. You furrowed your brows at the sight of Mason’s obvious handwriting.

I know, I fucked up. Big time. And I know a book won’t make up for it, but I want you to know that you didn’t just exist in my life as a pretty sidepiece, but that I actually care about you. A lot. I know we might never be the same, but I still want to make you feel seen. Until you’ll maybe be ready to talk to me. Or tell me to stop and leave you be.

Staring at the words you’d read over and over again, you weren’t sure what to think of them. All of it was bringing up a lot of mixed emotions. Emotions you’d tried to bury six feet under.

You’d hoped they stay there. Buried in the depth of your heart, safely locked away never to surface again, but the gifts kept chipping away at the brick walls you’d built.

They weren’t big or expensive gifts by any means. No jewellery, fancy clothes or whatever Mason’s never ending money could buy. No, they were small, carefully chosen and oh so thoughtful:

A rare postcard from the small park in Portsmouth you’d spent so much time in – alone and with Mason. A box of your favourite biscuits from the bakery in London you’d always spent way to much money at. Sweets you’d stocked your shared cupboards with, bath additives with your comfort smell…

After everything you’d been through lately, you hadn’t expected him to remember such small things about you. For months you’d felt like an afterthought, but all these things made you wonder if he’d actually cared more than you’d thought.

But no matter how much these things warmed your heart, you couldn’t help but notice that the word ��sorry’ was missing. Sure, the gifts were his way of expressing it in the most genuine way he could without saying it, but even the note in the book didn’t state those 5 letters.

And whilst you truly appreciated his attempts, they weren’t enough for you to give in and message him first.

With a grim expression on your face, you turned the TV off. United had lost – again – and ruined not only Mason’s first time back as a starter, but simultaneously the goal he’d worked so hard for.

You hadn’t even intended to watch the game – football not really something you were overly interested in – but Mason being back in the starting lineup after months on the sidelines had somehow managed to convince you.

Sighing, you stood up and began tidying up your living room. It wasn’t messy by any means, but you had to distract yourself from thinking about your smile that had been way too bright when you’d seen him entering the pitch and your reaction that most definitely had been more enthusiastic than you cared to admit.

You didn’t want to care anymore. Not after everything he’d put you through. But your heart was still doubling over in your chest whenever you saw that smile of his.

A little while later – you were about to start preparing your dinner – it knocked at your door.

Wiping your hands on the dishtowel, you headed to open the door, only to be met with the last face you’d expected to see.

“Mason?”

“Hi.”, he said softly, a careful half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“What are you doing here?”

“I erm…” His eyes dropped to the towel now clutched tightly in your hands. “I just…wanted to see you, I guess?”

“Okay?”, you nodded slowly, not really sure what to make of the whole situation. Especially of the thought that someone from your small circle had apparently told him your new address. “Congrats on your comeback. I’m glad you’re back out there.”

“Thanks.” A small smile darted over his face. “So am I. It was…difficult.”

The following silence was awkward, definitely making you both uncomfortable, but before you could think of stepping back and closing the door on him, he sighed.

“Those gifts, I-” Mason looked pained as he was trying to explain himself. “I know they’re not…enough or remotely anything that would make any of this better. It’s just…did you like them?”

“Did I like them? I mean…yeah sure, they were thoughtful just…none of them were what I really needed, you know?”

Mason nodded, seemingly understanding what you were alluding to. “Can I…I mean, can we talk?”

After deliberately taking a few seconds to make a decision you eventually nodded and stepped aside to let him in.

Once in your living room, Mason took a moment and let his gaze sweep over your thoughtfully chosen furniture and decor. You couldn’t read him like you used to, but the sad smile darting over his face was enough to make you hope he was thinking of your once shared house. The house you’d spent a lot of time decorating and making feel like home.

Turning around slowly, he buried his hands in the pockets of his joggers. “Listen, I’m sorry, y/n.”, he said quietly.

“You never mentioned it before.” Your voice was tight, and your arms crossed defensively over your chest. Him being in your safe space and ripping down the small walls you’d so carefully built over the past few weeks made you feel a lot more vulnerable than you liked.

“Writing it down, I don’t know…it would’ve been too easy. I didn’t…I didn’t want to. I wanted to tell you, not mention it on paper like I don’t mean it.” Mason dropped his gaze to the floor in shame before taking a deep breath and forcing his eyes back on yours. “I really am sorry for everything, y/n.”

“You hurt me.”, you gulped.

“I know.”

“No, Mason, you don’t.”, you shook your head. Your voice broke slightly, and you tried your best to blink back the tears threatening to spill over, but you knew it was to no avail.

“I know you think you do, but you really don’t. You don’t know how much it hurt feeling like everything I did and worked for didn’t matter to you at all. Your stuff, no matter what, was always more important. Yours always came first cause you’re the oh so amazing footballer and I’m just little miss corporate girly with a random boring job…or life for that matter.”

“y/n, I-” Mason looked like he was about to cry, but everything you’d been holding back for months came out all at once at full force.

“I didn’t ask for much, Mason, you know that. I supported you as much as I could. I attended those galas and events and whatever you wanted me by your side for and guess what? Every single time you asked, I could’ve burst with pride cause it was me you wanted there, not anyone else. But the very few times I asked you to be by my side, to support me, something more important came up and you stood me up.”

Angrily, you wiped at the tears rolling down your reddened cheeks.

“I’m so, so sorry, y/n.”, Mason choked. “I never meant to-”

“I just wanted to be good enough. To be more important than football. Just once.”

The admission caught Mason off guard. It cut right through his heart and made his knees buckle. “You have been more than enough, y/n. I swear, you’ve always been more than enough for me. You’ve been the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Slowly, you shook your head. “It didn’t feel like it, Mason. You pushed me to the side and made me feel like I’m not worth your time, but you know what? It’s completely fucked up, but despite it all, I couldn’t help but hope that something would remind you and make you wish you’d stayed.”

“I wish I had. I promise.”, Mason sniffed. “Not just that. I wish I’d been better, you know? Better for you, better for us. I struggled with my priorities cause so many people expected different things from me and-”

“Not me.”, you said quietly. “I never expected you to be something special or be here all the time or put football on the back burner. I just wanted to be an important part of your life too. Not just some second thought.”

You hadn’t noticed Mason carefully stepping closer, but when he carefully grabbed your hand in his, you let him.

His fingers felt warm and familiar against yours. The touch reminding you of the good times you were missing so badly.

“You were – are – an important part of my life, y/n.”, Mason promised. It was quiet, but confident. He made it sound like it was true. “I know I wasn’t the best at showing you and for that I’m sorry. Genuinely sorry. I’m sorry for all the disappointment and hurt I caused you and…I know I don’t get to ask anything from you, but I’d love to show you that I still want you. That I’ll fight for whatever is left between us. Because I still love you, y/n.”

Staring at the way his hand was still gripping yours tightly, you took a moment to let his words sink in. To let yourself feel all the emotions bubbling up inside of you.

You were still hurt and angry, but you still appreciated everything he’d said. Especially as you knew that he wasn’t a man of many emotional words normally, but liked to use jokes for covering up deeper emotions.

“I…I can’t just go back to where we left off, Mason.”, you sighed. “This…I know you’re sorry and I believe you…it’s just…”

“You don’t trust me anymore.”, he finished for you and when you nodded, the defeated look on his face pulled at all your heartstrings at once. “I understand, y/n. I promise I do and I don’t expect this to change quickly. It’s just…if you still see a chance for us, I’d like to take the time and prove myself to you.”

Mason brushed his thumb over your knuckles. His brown eyes bore into yours, somewhat pleading for you to say yes and give him the chance he didn’t deserve.

“You have to put in the work, Mason.”, you said quietly. “I’m not expecting you to be there all the time or make me your priority. I know football will always be up there and that’s something I don’t want you to change. I just want to be equally important.”

“You always have been, y/n.”, Mason smiled sadly. “But I promise this time I’ll make you feel like it too. You deserve so much more than what you got from me, and I swear to god I’ll make it right.”

Nodding slowly, you let go of a deep breath before leaning your forehead against his chest. “You’re an idiot.”, you huffed.

“I know.”, Mason confirmed. Still a bit unsure how open you’d be for affection from him, he carefully pressed his lips to the top of your head. “But I’m an idiot who missed you a lot.”

Something inside of you cracked open slightly at his words and whilst part of you wanted to keep your distance, you wrapped your arms around his middle anyway and when he hugged you back, tiny pieces of hope fell back into place.

For a while you simply stood there, wrapped up in one another and holding on to the hope that things would get better. That not all was lost.

“I know we have to talk some more, but I really mean it when I say I’m sorry and that you’re the only one I’ll ever want. I don’t want to lose you again, y/n.”

Pulling back a little, you tipped your head back and locked your eyes on his.

“I know.”, you smiled softly. “I don’t want to lose you either, Mase.”

A warm smile spread over his face and with some newfound confidence, Mason brought one hand up to cradle your jaw. His thumb stroked right beneath your eye, making your tummy flutter.

You wanted to keep your distance, to keep your heart safe for a little while longer, but the way he was looking at you with so much love and warmth in his eyes had your walls crumbling rather easily.

“I missed you so much.”

Mason leaned in slowly, testing the waters, but when you didn’t pull back, but instead tipped your head back a little more, he closed the distance and pressed his lips against yours softly; carefully, but oh so familiar and you couldn’t help but melt into him.

Nothing was perfect and it wouldn’t be for a while, but knowing you wouldn’t have to go back to torturing yourself by watching his life in pictures and wondering how you’d ended like this was enough for now.

“I missed you, too.”, you whispered against his lips before reaching up, burying your fingers in his hair and pulling him back in for another kiss.

And another right after as you never wanted to think about having a last kiss ever again.

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#mason mount #mason mount imagine #mason monut x reader #mason mount fanfic #football imagine #manchester united #football fanfic #manchester united imagine #mason mount angst #mason mount fluff #angst #fluff #fanfiction

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cosycafune · 1 year ago

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FIRST TIME PARENT

Satoru’s a little confused with taking care of his daughter, but it’s his first time as a parent, so scrutiny isn’t something he’ll allow on himself. after all, everything’s a learning experience.

synopsis of acts: vomiting, cuddling, fluff, postpartum, first-time parents. satoru gojo, father au.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Satoru’s curious. Curious at the little, crying girl that’s biologically his own. Sure, he’s married to you, supported you through your pregnancy, but seeing the aftermath of your pregnancy left him with a whirlwind of thoughts. Protecting his little Aiko flooded his mind, as how can a little baby so precious adorn this flawed world.

Naturally, he couldn’t help put gently watch his slumbering newborn — before glancing back at a sleeping you in never ending awe. Awe he had once been too afraid to muster up before he had met and fallen in love with you. An irreversible fondness that continues to guide and coddles him consistently; Satoru loves you with all the might he takes to breathe.

However, he turns his gaze towards a crying Aiko — longing to soothe her to not wake you up. After all, you had just given birth and you’re awfully sore. Sore in a way Satoru doesn’t want to interrupt, even if it meant sacrificing everything of his willpower to put Aiko back to sleep again.

To him, all she had done was be adorable, be fed, go back to sleep and throw up on him. That’s all, but she’s still his precious first born daughter.

“‘Ko, let’s not wake mummy up,” Satoru softly murmurs, contrasting the erraticness of his daughter.

“Okay, I’ll pick you up,” Panicking, Satoru gently picks up Aiko — fitting her into the home of his arms.

Even as she harshly cried, Satoru couldn’t help but sit down within the fresh rocking chair. Within the rocking chair and placing her against his heartbeat, just so she would calm and be adjusted to his heartbeat.

After all, Satoru had consistently been doing skin-to-skin — paving a subtle path of familiarity for Aiko. If rendered exhausted, Satoru grew unwilling to care — prioritising you and Aiko’s beauty sleep over his own. As, to him, the two of you are the only perfect necessity to him.

You’re both angels, who deserve to be pampered effortlessly.

“Papa’s here now,” Satoru listens to Aiko begin to lighten, her tiny fist lazily propped against his peck.

Careful with his large hands, Satoru uses his free hand to comb through Aiko’s ivory and brown wisps of hair. Seeing her with his ivory hair warmed his eyes as she carried one of his rare characteristics, leaving a future thing for the two of them to bode over in the future.

“You look just like me, with a lot of mummy,” Treasuring the moment, Satoru slips into a smile, “Aiko Gojo, you’re just your daddy.” Tearing up, Satoru observes Aiko’s gentle cooing.

“Look how tiny you are,” In awe, Satoru’s heart is plentiful — completely adorned with everything he ever needs in life.

“Your first words will be papa!” Enthralled, Satoru’s enthusiastic shouts are followed up with Aiko throwing up milk on his chest.

“That’s what you get for scheming, Sato’,” Chuckling, you capture the blown kiss that Satoru gifts you.

“Now I get to spend a little less time with her and you,” Pouting, Satoru’s whiny point are soothed by an exhausted you — who groggily glimpses at him.

“If you get here in less than five minutes, we can cuddle!” Exhilarant, you propose your arrangement — only for Satoru to be gone before you could blink again.

Well, at least he had cleaned Aiko up and settled her comfortably down.

Satoru’s a good first time parent, even if there was still so much to learn.

What isn’t he good at?

#gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru fluff #jujutsu satoru #satoru x you #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen satoru #jjk fanfic #jujustu gojo #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk satoru #satoru x reader #gojo father au #imagine #cosycafune

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mullermilkshake · 1 month ago

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A bear trap and its teeth

Part 3 <- Part 4 -> Part 5

Suguru confronts Satoru.

Sperm donor!Satoru Gojo x Fem New mom!reader x Husband!Suguru Geto Tags - Manipulation, gaslighting

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You never recoiled from Suguru’s suggestion, but you may as well have. “How do you plan to do that?”

Suguru cleared his throat and blinked rapidly to psyche himself up to even speak it. You were unsure, searching his eyes for something unspoken.

“Well, I’ll need to speak with Satoru first.” The whole idea of it made him want to vomit. “See what his mindset is. It’ll determine how far he’ll go.”

“I don’t know what to think. You think he’ll-“

“I’m not sure, but if what his ex said was true, I need to prioritise your safety, our daughter’s safety.”

Satoru was calculated, according to his ex. She feared for her safety and he played it off like she just wanted to cause drama. He made it believable.

It riddled Suguru’s guilt and would do so for the rest of his life.

Just like how he convinced Suguru’s mother that you were struggling after Sakura’s birth. Suguru ruminated on his conversation with his mom in the car and knew he had to bring it up to you “To be honest, he’s already digging his hooks in. My mom thinks you’re displaying signs of postpartum depression. That’s because Satoru’s making signs to find.”

“I knew it… She never outright said anything to me, but I knew. She was always finding some reason to have the baby and offering me time on my own, always complimenting Satoru’s behaviour.” You lowered your voice. “I overheard her in the kitchen once, saying that I needed the extra help and that he was perfect for it. If I wasn’t with you, she’d be happy if it was someone like him. She was unknowingly encouraging him.”

Suguru clenched his fist, breathing in through his nose so he didn’t speak ill of his mother. He knew she meant well, he did. But she was far too short sighted when it came to taking things at face value. All she did was inflate Satoru’s ego, gifting rose tinted glasses with a new prescription.

“My mother doesn’t know anything about our relationship. She shouldn’t be commenting on who she thinks is suitable for you. Satoru isn’t suitable for you.”

“Don’t I know it.” You said, giving a little exasperated huff and laying down on the bed. “I never listened to it, but it always struck a nerve in me when I thought that he was up to something. But I just didn’t think it would be this bad… She handed our daughter to him, Suguru. He kept telling her he was her dad and whisked her away up here like he knows what’s best- we want what’s best for her, not him.”

Suguru followed suit, feeling your indentation on the mattress. “He only thinks about himself. He doesn’t know what it takes to raise a baby. Not the late night feedings, the early wake up calls and constant crying because she’s hungry. Seeing the pain and upset you were in…” Suguru couldn’t be prouder for birthing his daughter the way you did. “Satoru wouldn’t last a week swapping places with us, he’s far too vain to take that responsibility.”

“Yet here we are… he really thinks he has a right to her. He forged my signature- what the hell are we going to do?”

Suguru had his reservations. “Now, I know he did… I just, I never wanted to bring it up incase I was wrong.”

“What do you mean?” You propped yourself up onto your elbow.

“I had a suspicion he did something to Sakura’s birth certificate, but I was so involved with you, I didn’t look into it as thoroughly as I should have. I wanted to ask you, but you were so out of it. I know I should have chased it, but you had just given birth, you needed me. Paperwork could come after, and now it’s just snowballed.”

“You had an idea back then, and never told me-“

Suguru held his hand up to defend himself. “You’re exhausted, honey. We’re both exhausted, I didn’t want to worry you if I was wrong about things. I wanted to keep the house as calm as I could.” Suguru buried his face into his hands, shamefully hiding himself. “All I’ve done is make things worse.”

“No… no, I don’t think you have. It's just a shitty situation.”

Suguru listened to what Satoru said to you. About the wedding and after that. He knew you’d bring it up.

He wasn't sure what to contribute, and you continued. “He had this planned long ago. I doubt anything you did changed that… would you really have listened to him if he tried to get you to leave me at the altar?”

“No, honey.” He sat up and held both your hands, pulling you up with him. “Never. I love you too much for someone to come between us. I knew you were the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with the minute we first met.”

Purely by accident. Each date stood the other up. You and Suguru had dinner together instead.

“It was a pretty interesting first date, huh?” You smiled though it had a hint of sadness behind it.

“The best date. I’m glad I was stood up, otherwise I never would have met you. I never would have had the life I do and the perfect daughter was blessed with.”

You hung on his every word, ignoring the dark bags under your eyes that pushed for sleep. You should have been sleeping right now, resting before Sauka’s next feeding because you hadn’t pumped more milk. Suguru noticed the unused breast pump on the coffee table, never wanting to freeze your milk despite the doctor's reassurance, only fresh. You must have been sore, yet you sat there watching him like you did on the first date.

“You always know how to say the right things, don’t you? Always know how to make me feel safe.”

When you kissed him, he kissed you back as was his instinct, caressing your cheek delicately like anything near feverish would wake the baby.

“I say what’s true, honey. You make me feel just as safe… don’t worry about all this tonight. I’ll speak to him in the morning.”

“It’s Saturday tomorrow, I’m supposed to go to my mom’s, I don’t want to leave you here on your own.”

“No, you should go, keep going too. It’s a sense of normality for you and Sakura. She might ask questions if you suddenly stop going, let’s not involve anyone else unless we have to. I’ll be alright.”

You weren’t entirely convinced. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Sakura stirred, wriggling about with the biggest yawn Suguru had ever seen. Her eyes blinked open for a moment and closed again, sleeping so peacefully amidst the trouble and drama he wanted her to know none of.

My beautiful girl.

He already knew what time it was based off of your weary sigh. “She'll be getting hungry again, I was so stressed earlier, she mustn’t have drunk as much as I thought.”

“Are you planning to pump tonight? I can feed her.”

Suguru picked up his little bundle of joy from the crib and laid her down on the bed to undo her swaddle. He took in these little moments when he could, knowing she’d be out of the cute patterned material soon like a big girl.

Six weeks and she’s already growing up too fast.

You glanced at the clock on the wall. “Nah, it’s too late now, I’ll just lay down with her for a while and let her feed while I decompress.”

He nodded, scooping up his little girl in his arms and rocked her gently. “Get tucked in, I’ll put a movie on. Let’s take back the rest of the night.”

She watched him as her eyes opened, her slender little fingers so soft around his thumb, fingernails still new and perfect.

His little girl.

My little girl.

A mantra Suguru repeated when Satoru came back to the house after you had left for your mom’s that lunchtime. He paced around the kitchen, deep breaths and deeper words to keep himself from throttle if the man over the kitchen island as Satoru hesitantly stepped over the threshold.

“Tell me, Satoru… why her? What happened?”

He actually gave Suguru a look of pity. “It sorta just happened. You were at work more, she needed a friend, and I was there for her.”

Bullshit. Suguru worked from home two days a week, he worked for a tech company, the pay was good, the hours even better. Okay, he wasn’t home all the time, but the fact of the matter was that Satoru was blatantly lying.

It took everything for his tongue to stay put in his mouth and not throw real accusations his way for the time being.

“It just happened? That’s a bullshit excuse. That’s my wife. The love of my life and you knew that. So, I’ll ask again… why her? Do you love her?”

“I do.” He answered a little too eagerly.

“Why? How long?”

“For me? Around the time I donated, but for her, much later. She initiated it, actually. I wanted to keep away, because you’re like a brother to me, but I love her, Suguru. And the ‘why’, because I’m drawn to her, I’m finding myself obsessed with the thought of us being’ a family.”

Suguru’s fists shook, they held still to control themselves, he looked away from him to keep his interests aligned. For the bigger picture, not the ‘now’.

“We were a family, Satoru. My wife and daughter. You didn’t have any place in that little circle. So why did you shit all over it?”

Satoru tried to stifle his scoff, one that was misaligned and misplaced. “Sakura is my daughter, by blood. She came from me and her.” He said your name with such certainty.

He moved on over to the wall, leaning against it and slumping. “I was happy donating because it was for you, but the more time went on,” your name left Satoru’s lips again. “When she started showing, the way she wore her baby bump, how beautiful she was gettin’… and when Sakura was born, I knew I didn’t want to be away from her- from either of them. I refuse to be away from either of them, Suguru.”

“Satoru, she’s my wife. Sakura might not be my child biologically, but she’s my daughter. She’ll always be my daughter. She came from the person I love the most, despite everything she’s done.”

It broke his heart even suggesting you’d been unfaithful just to fit Satoru’s narrative until he had a solid plan on his mind to work things out.

“You don’t have a leg to stand on, Suguru. My name is on the birth certificate.” Satoru’s voice dipped and lowered an octave. “Nothing you do can change that. And your wife wants to be with me. So where does that put us? You can’t keep me away if that’s the route you wanna go down.”

Suguru blinked, understanding right then and there where Satoru’s mindset was.

Deranged.

Deluded.

To be approached with caution.

“You were my friend, my best friend. How could you do this to me?”

Suguru wasn’t asking Satoru about infidelity. No, it went deeper than that.

“I told you, it just sorta happened, we never meant to let it get this far- she at her mom’s?” He was preoccupied, like the matter was already resolved.

Bastard.

“She wants to be on her own for a few days. We argued last night, leave her be, just leave us be until we can work through things-“

Bad mistake. Big misuse of words.

Satoru laughed, he fucking laughed. “She doesn’t wanna work through things! She’s already told me she plans on leaving you, so just do it already!”

Then, Suguru let slip something. A possibility you and he would have to conspire with each other to make believable. He just didn’t want to do it.

“We are going to try. Otherwise I’m asking for a divorce.”

Words he never thought he’d ever say, even though they were make-believe to push Satoru in a corner, right where Suguru wanted him.

Part 3 <- Part 4 -> Part 5

If you would like to be tagged, please let me know! 🤗

Tag list - @ryomenslvr @ilovebattinson @ilyannailyanna @charlenexoxo1 @satorupied

@nommingonfood @tweekdoescosplay @gojojjknanami @kiwikeeahwah @ryannae-luuvv

@merceriee @dyavorange @tweekdoescosplay @yesdere @qardasngan

@bubera974 @yourlocalcatscammer

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work thank you!

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radioactiverats · 5 months ago

Text

Mentor Starscream x seeker!reader (12/?)

Sorry for the wait!! I’ve just been tired recently and words are still not wording :,) On my day off I was agonising over how to write a snapshot and ended up writing something entirely different, so I guess it worked out in the end…?? I will take things into my own grubby little hands and kick that plot muscle into gear… Thank you all for your kind comments in the meantime <3

Direct continuation of part (9/?). Bit more of fixing Starscream up after his failed attempt to assassinate Megatron.

———

“Megatron thinks I’m dead,” Starscream says bluntly. On seeing your wince, he quickly adds, “Which I’m not.”

He’s still weak; it’s the first time he’s come online in days, after all - days which you’d spent elbow deep in energon, coolant blurring your vision as you fought for his spark. You can’t be blamed for being worried. There’s light in his optics and colour in his plates, but the welds and dried energon don’t do much by way of helping you forget just how close he was to dying. The uncharacteristically limp way he’s slumped against a rock doesn’t really help your nerves, either.

Your fingers curl into fists as you fight to hide the tremor in your servos. He doesn’t need this right now, not when he needs to prioritise his recovery - both for his sake and yours. Attempting to calm yourself, you glance around the cave - enough energon to keep you going for a while without having to ration it. Thank Primus you’d decided to spend idle time digging it out. Even in its raw form, Cybertronians could consume it safely - they just didn’t prefer to. Processed energon went down way smoother, and didn’t have that strange, unfiltered taste that came from the impurities in its solid form. That was one thing you’d discovered about Starscream - he absolutely hated the taste.

To the extent that, just a joor ago, you’d started to grow sick of cajoling him into ingesting more to aid his sluggish systems - but it was only when panic began to colour your frustration that you decided enough was enough. You hadn’t just spent three sleepless cycles putting him back together only for him to reject the fuel he needed because it “tasted horrendous”. Which was how you found yourself on his lap in an effort to pin him down, batting his servos away - even injured, you hadn’t expected him to put up such a fight. The cave quickly filled with his screeching over your shouts that it would be good for him, as you tried to shove a chunk of energon into his intake.

It was probably down to the weakness of his recovering frame that he’d finally accepted the chunk of energon with a sound of disgust - even more disgusting due to its lukewarm temperature, by virtue of being clasped in your servo for too long (entirely his fault). That, and the pleading look in your optics. Ordinarily, he’d have long overpowered you. But even if he won over you in size and strength, you’d still have your ultimate weapon - what did the Terrans call it again? Thundercracker had excitedly informed you of the term after a solar cycle of bingeing his Terran movies - puppy dog optics? Whatever it was, it worked without fail on Starscream. You grimly foresee yourself using this tactic a lot in order to keep him properly fuelled.

In any case, the slight tremor of your frame doesn’t escape his notice. He wordlessly reaches a servo out to you, and you gratefully clasp it in your smaller ones. Big. Warm. Alive. Grounding you enough to turn your processor back to the matter at hand - Megatron’s presumption that Starscream was out of the picture.

Honestly, this felt to you like a once-in-a-lifetime chance. You’d rather take your chances as a neutral than go crawling back to the Decepticons, but you’re not sure if Starscream feels the same. Ambition was what gave him purpose. No matter his position, always thinking about how to improve, how to gain more. You watch his faceplate carefully, grip tightening inadvertently on his servo. Oddly enough, he doesn’t seem as angry as you’d thought he’d be.

“The only regrettable thing is that we’d lose access to quite a few valuable resources,” Starscream mutters, more to himself than to you. He can make things work, though. He’s no stranger to fighting for survival, scouting for resources, hiding away, going days without energon. You, though, require further consideration. You won’t offline, not if he has anything to say about it. It doesn’t please him to put you in such a position, though - it’s no life for a young seeker. Still, war is war. He reluctantly concedes that its better than putting you squarely back into Megatron’s line of fire. Starscream scowls. Strategy didn’t necessitate manoeuvring around his own feelings before; his own emotions would only hold him back.

…But with you in the picture, he can’t find it in himself to mind.

He glances at you then, only to see that you’re looking timidly at him with a question clear in your optics.

“We’re… not going back?” You ask, hesitantly. Had you read him wrongly?

His optics narrow for a second, caught off guard by your question.

“…Do you want to go back?”

“No,” You say quickly.

“I thought so,” He snorts, groaning as he tries to shift himself upright, a jut of rock digging uncomfortably into his wing. You rush to help him and even now, it’s a surprise that he lets you. “Why would you ask that, then?”

“I just thought you might have… unfinished business? Like… being leader of the Decepticons, or something…?”

He’d mentioned it often, during his rants in the privacy of your shared habsuite. “If I were leader,” he’d growl, “I would…”

As leader, he’d proceed to talk your audial off about what policy he’d implement instead of Megatron’s existing one. You’d listened halfheartedly, not as invested in power as he was - but his ideas did make sense.

He’s still staring at you, as if just realising that your interpretation of events had been wholly different from his.

“You…”

He groans again. You’re too young for politics. Was it a good thing that he’d managed to keep you out of it? The brutal struggle for power, all the underhanded scheming, living with a target on your back? Or should he have told you earlier about the power dynamics at play in the Decepticon high command?

Well, either way, it’s too late for that now. What gets him, though, is that you clearly hadn’t understood the rationale behind his obsessive grab for power.

“The more power I have,” Starscream says tiredly, “the safer you are. I hope you at least know the position I held within the Decepticon ranks?”

“I know that,” You mutter sullenly. So maybe you’d misread the situation, but it wasn’t like you knew nothing about him. Did he really think you cared so little? “You’re Second-in-Command.”

Starscream sniffs, momentarily placated. “Ex-second-in-command now, I suppose,” He mutters to himself, turning his optics to the ceiling. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

You roll your optics at that. He does have a flair for the dramatic. Sure, you couldn’t hope to understand going from leader of the Cybertronian High Guard to Second-in-Command of a civil war faction to… whatever this was, now. In your eyes, though, he’d always been your commander, and he always would be. Perhaps that was why you didn’t feel as shaken as you thought you’d be. You suppose that not everybody could be lucky enough to have a constant to rely on.

“So,” Your esteemed commander presses on, “Who is the only bot who ranks above me?”

Surely not a trick question. “Megatron.”

“Exactly. And who just beat you to a pulp a few solar cycles ago?”

You stare sulkily at the cave floor. “…Megatron.”

“Who, then,” Starscream pushes on, despite the uncharacteristic patience in his voice, - “would I have to outrank to ensure that nobody beats you up?”

“Mega… Oh.”

Starscream tips his helm back, studying the energon crystals that twinkle on the roof of the cave as you have your mini existential crisis beside him.

“Megatron has gone too far,” He says tiredly. “Of course I want more power. So much more can be accomplished with power. But… I’m not sure I agree with what Megatron’s doing anymore.” Not after seeing what he did to you, is what goes unsaid. “Does leadership matter if it’s over a cause I no longer believe in?”

He blinks, shifts distractedly in place as if he suddenly has an idea. “Or maybe, I could start my own faction… then, I’d naturally be leader of it, and…”

And I can keep you safe, is the second thing that goes unsaid.

“…You need to rest,” You eventually say. Anything to intervene before he gets too lost in his processor. Your own processor spins with the weight of his confession, but you can’t have him burning out now because he’s thinking too hard in his current state.

You also don’t want to think about the implications of him nearly dying just for your sake.

He does seem quite woozy, anyway. “Recharge,” You murmur. “No one’s looking for us, right? And even if they are, I’ll be keeping watch.”

His optics slide to yours. Not entirely sharp as they normally would be, but he’s there. You know he’s heard you.

After a nanoklik, he nods, and you help him into a more comfortable position.

Unfortunately, it’s another few days before he surfaces again. His frame is wracked with fever as the nanites do their work. Primus must hate you, because you spend another few nights without recharge to ensure that he doesn’t overheat and fry his own circuits in the process. As if his condition wasn’t spark-wrenching enough, he has a habit of babbling incoherently at random times - “Who is Genvo?” You whisper to him, as you manually try to cool his frame down - but all that comes in response is a soft, agonized moan. Your designation comes up a lot, too. “I’m here,” You say desperately. “Sir, can you hear me?” Cupping his heated faceplate with shaky servos as you try to get through to him, but your voice falls on deaf audials.

You’re finally granted a glimpse of hope when on the third day, exhaustion compounds your panic and twists it into a holler of his designation right into his faceplate.

“Starscream!” You shout, trying to keep your voice steady. No such luck with your servos, though, which tremble as you cup his helm. “You can’t leave me, not like this, in the middle of some stupid cave on a planet ten thousand hics from Cybertron!”

Miraculously, his optics snap open. Glassy, but staring straight at you. His intake moves, but no sound comes out. You know you don’t have much time to make your appeal, but you know exactly what you want from him.

“Come back,” You plead. He stares at you for a klik more, those glassy optics boring into yours like he's staring straight into your spark. Even though his optics shutter straight after, you somehow feel like he had received your message - and sure enough, after another exhausting night of watching over him, he blinks online the following morning as if nothing had ever happened.

Even though you’d shared a habsuite for so long, you feel like you’ve never actually watched him wake up. He was usually long gone no matter how early you blinked online, so it’s a novel sight for your bleary optics as his systems come online - minuscule twitches of his faceplate, steam hissing from his vents.

His optics cycle open, focusing on the ceiling for a klik before darting over to you, as if he’d known where you were even before coming online.

"Cadet?" Starscream says, his vocalizer rough.

He makes an attempt to get up, but it’s sabotaged by the weight of your frame as you throw yourself at him, your relief surpassed only by exhaustion.

“Finally,” You mutter. You’re incredibly deprived of recharge, and tiredness has completely nerfed your inhibitions. Your small servos roam frantically over his frame, as if making sure he’s whole, making sure he’s really here. Starscream quietly allows you to confirm that he’s alright, optics tracking every shred of emotion that crosses your faceplate. His plates are a normal temperature, welds holding shut, wings responsive. Optics bright and alert, colour back to his plates. You allow yourself to ex-vent with relief. At last, satisfied by the fact that he’s actually, fully healed, a hysterical laugh escapes your vocaliser, a sharp sound layered in static as you finally collapse onto his chassis. “No one’s looking for us,” You inform him cheerfully, before he can say anything. “I’m going to recharge before my processor explodes and fragging kills us both.”

Before he can reprimand you for unseemly language, you’re out like a light.

Starscream blinks, taking in the sight of you sprawled half on top of him, optics shuttered and a klik away from drooling on his chassis.

Your plates are dulled with dried energon - his, most likely. At least, he hoped it was - better his than yours.

Starscream takes stock of his systems, finding that he was more or less functioning at optimum capacity.

He shakes his helm in disbelief, a raspy chuckle escaping his vocaliser.

You deserved this recharge. That, and so much more.

Perhaps he needn’t be so worried about your capacity for survival, after all. But for now, Starscream carefully gathers you close, watching tenderly as you ex-vent and nestle closer, making yourself comfortable in the crook of his arm, against his frame.

Nothing’s going to disturb your well-earned recharge if he has anything to say about it. Everything that comes after can wait - because for once, time is on your side.

Previous / Next

Rock form (rock candy lol) energon to me basically has that “tonic water” negative taste. Lol

#transformers #maccadam #transformers x reader #starscream x reader #starscream #tf starscream #Cadet AU

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aliciajadee · 2 months ago

Text

Hey y'all! It's been quite a while since I last posted online, and I know many of you've wondered where I've been. I've been trying to figure out the best way to update you all, but I've found that figuring it out hasn't been easy. I thought I'd just start with a little post here. It's been 165 days since I've uploaded a full-length video to YouTube, and almost a month since I've posted on TikTok. I didn't mean to disappear from the internet, and it's not that I haven't wanted to create and upload it, but that I just haven't been capable. The first few months of 2025 were not the best time for me. I was struggling with my mental health immensely, and as a result, my physical health declined too. I ended up in the hospital with complications relating to my T1D, and that took a really big toll on me. Talking about my mental health and chronic illnesses is something I've always tried to be open about with you because it's real. Just like you all, I am human. I struggle and I get stuck, sometimes (a lot of the time) I need help and time to heal and quite frankly get my shit together. I want to just say thank you all for allowing me that time I so desperately needed.

For months, I was anxious about making a return to YouTube. I was running low on inspiration, and every time I pulled out the camera, nothing felt right. I just felt like anything I tried to make wasn't good enough. I was receiving messages and comments every day asking where I was, for the most part they were kind messages but a lot of them were hostile and made me feel like crap. All I wanted to do was crawl into my bed and rot.

Then I started back at school with my Photography course! I've talked about this on my channel before and for the most part it’s going really well. I found it difficult to try wrap my head around my coursework, my job and doing social media, I was only just getting back on track and the thought of having so much on my plate was (and still is a little) extremely overwhelming. So I stopped prioritising making content because it stressed me out. That’s the truth of it.

About a month or so ago I felt like I was ready to come back. I was excited to be making content again and I felt like I had a hold on everything. Then I got adenovirus… 2025 really isn't my year y’all.

Basically this virus gave me conjunctivitis and I wasn't able to see or really open my eyes for over 2 weeks. It was hell. The virus has now cleared, i'm no longer super contagious, i don't look like a zombie but it did leave me with scarring on my corneas. No, I'm not kidding. I cannot see. My vision has significantly decreased, even when I'm wearing my glasses it makes no difference. I haven't been able to go to my classes for almost a month now. I can't really see anything, even writing this has been quite difficult. Hopefully my vision returns soon, I'm seeing specialists and doctors weekly but this has been really hard for me.

I'll probably make a video talking about all of this soon but for now I'm just focusing on trying to get better. I really hope you can understand.

I love you and hope to be back real soon xoxo

-Alicia

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damiansgoodgirll · 11 months ago

Note

can you please write McIntyre using the strap on reader as she got excited watching him beating punk? it doesn’t have to be smut, only if you want to 😩🙏🥵

drew mcintyre x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always welcomed!

‼️not 100% smut but smut, we’re close lol, mention of safeword, belt !!!!!!!

marks

watching your boyfriend and punk using belts and straps on each others was something you’ve never expected to see. especially since when drew got back to your shared apartment and his back was full of red bruises and cuts.

you told him how worried you were, that he might have gone too far but he reassured you, saying that he got worse during his whole career.

so you believed him.

but another week passed and you saw punk and drew using belts on each other. you didn’t want to watch anymore but the way your boyfriend was hitting punk, the way he forcibly removed his belts from his jeans, sweat dripping down his naked chest and the way his hand strongly e the belt, made you feel butterflies all over your body.

you and drew weren’t one of those kinky couples. you used cuffs and ropes a couple of times but drew always feared he would hurt you so he never pushed himself much. he respected you too much to degrade you or making you in some uncomfortable position so you’ve never asked him again.

he was a caring lover, always making you cum first in bed, prioritising you over his own pleasure. he knew how to be sensual and seductive, he knew how to make you crazy and beg for him but he was a softie after all, so you didn’t know what to expect from him if you asked him to use the belt on you.

but the sight of him looking so powerful and dominant made you wet.

the worst he could say to your proposal was no, right?

so you waited till the next day, until he got back home and during that period of time you actually thought about how you were going to ask him. there wasn’t a way of actually asking someone if they could use their belt on your ass so you thought about just asking him the way you would ask him about his day.

it was night when he got home. you were already in bed, reading something on instagram when you saw him smiling at you.

“hey” you greeted him returning a smile.

he dropped his work bag on the floor and immediately jumped in bed next to you, making you laugh.

“hey love, i missed you” he moved closer to your body so now his head was laying on your chest while your hands was playing with his long hair.

“missed you too” you whispered, enjoying the comfort of the moment.

“did you watch the episode?” he asked even if he already knew the answer.

“of course” you laughed.

he noticed that you were dozing off, that your mind was thinking of something else and he was curious to know about it “is everything okay love?”

“uh? oh yes, don’t worry…i was just thinking”

“yeah, i can see that…do you mind let me in?” he moved a little on the bed so now he was facing you.

“it’s stupid…it’s just a thought that i had” if you were sure before, now you were completely backing off, thinking of how crazy you would have sounded if you asked him to use the strap on you.

“it’s not stupid if you’re distracted” he replied with a smirk, making you roll your eyes.

“i was thinking about you and the show…just the way you manhandled punk with the belt” you were getting shy and drew understood what you were going to say.

“go on…” he whispered.

“i - well, i just thought that you looked good using the belt on him, and i was wondering if we could try…you know, using the belt on me?” you asked, your cheeks completely red from embarrassment.

drew thought about it for a minute. he knew he was strong and he didn’t want to hurt you. but at the same time he knew he wouldn’t have used as much force as he used with punk and the thought of having you face down and ass up wasn’t so bad after all.

“you sure? i don’t wanna hurt you” he wanted to be sure.

“positive…i will let you know in case it gets too much for me”

“i need a safeword” he was serious about it.

you thought for a minute about a simple word that you would easily remember “claymore” you said and he laughed.

“seriously?”

“what? it’s short and easy for me to remember” you joked.

“fine…come here…” he said before letting you sit on his lap. his lips met yours in a passionate yet gentle kiss, his beard grazing over your cheeks making you shiver “if i’m hurting you i need you to say so” he whispered again your lips and you nodded.

his hands pushed your hips down, making you slowly grind against his now evident erection. a moan escaped his lips, making you wanting to grind your hips again “don’t play with me princess” he smiled, his lips leaving soft kisses against your neck and collarbone “lift your hips up for me” you did as he said and in one move he was able to remove your shorts and panties.

“take your shirt off please…” you begged him, needing to see him in all of his glory.

“as you wish” he smirked, removing his shirt so you could touch his muscular chest. the smiled, feeling your soft hands on his bruised chest, touching him softly.

one of his hands moved to touch your naked cunt, teasing your lips before his thumb slowly circled your clit “you’re so wet already…and all because of a belt” he captured your lips again, biting them softly, making you moan “ass up and face down baby…” he smirked seeing how eager you were to comply.

in a swift move you saw him removing his belt from his jeans and you felt yourself burning. he helped you positioning yourself over the pillows, making sure that your face and your elbows wouldn’t feel any pain.

“you good?” he asked and you nodded “promise me to let me know if it hurts okay?”

“i promise you drew…” you smiled at him and before you could say anything else, you felt his hand smacking your add, making you slightly jump from the surprise.

you felt becoming wetter and he noticed that from the way you tried to close your legs. his strong arms made impossible for you to do so as he gently massaged your cheek before bringing the hard material of the belt over your ass. he didn’t hit you, he wanted you to get used to the feeling before doing anything.

you shivered a little when you felt the cold material against your body but it was likeable.

before you could say anything, you felt a strong whipping against your ass “oh fuck…” you moaned, closing your eyes slightly from the burning sensation that it caused you.

“do you want me to stop?” drew asked a little worried. his eyes were still looking at your face, trying to see if there was any discomfort showing.

“absolutely not!” you said making him chuckle. he had no idea there was this kinky side in you. you’ve always been the vanilla type, or so he thought.

without warning, you felt another hit on your ass. a little less strong than the other one but still firm, knowing that by the end of the night, you would probably struggle to sit.

drew thought about a way for you to make it more enjoyable for you. he knew that you would probably get tired of it after five or six hits and he was having too much fun to end so quickly.

he brought his middle finger back to your cunt, positioning himself behind you, losing your face sight but imagining your eyes closing when you felt his finger touching your clit once again.

his belt touched your ass once again, but the fact that his fingers were working on your clit, it made the pain less painful and you were actually enjoying this more. the contrast from pain and pleasure, the way you felt your ass burning but at the same time your core getting wetter and wetter , you loved every second of it.

he noticed that you were enjoying it. from the way your legs began to shake, from your moans and whimpers. he knew you were close, his hands working magic both on your cunt and ass. with one last strong whip, he hit your ass before stroking your clit faster, making you cum right on the spot “oh fuck fuck fuck…” you mumbled against the pillows, your head almost suffocating between the comfort “oh shit…” you felt your body go numb and falling down on the bed.

drew making sure that you were okay, softly turned you to face him. he threw the belt somewhere on the back of the room and his hands tried to move the hair that got stuck on your face.

your eyes were closed and your mouth a little open, still trying to catch your breath.

“love” he softly whispered in your ear, making you open your eyes “are you okay love?” his lips met your cheeks and you softly nodded “i need words love”

you chuckled “i’m okay”

“did i hurt you?”

“no…i enjoyed it actually…a lot” you smirked, making him laugh.

“well…i think that’s enough for you tonight…you did so good baby, i’m impressed”

“shut up” you softly punched him making him laugh.

before you could move, drew went to the bathroom and got some lotion to put on your very red ass. the cold cream made you hiss for a second when it came in contact with your skin. drew was careful, trying not to hurt you, not more than he already did at least.

“you should sleep on your stomach tonight…at least until the cream is absorbed” he suggested making you nod your head.

you were tired, and he definitely wore you out. drew removed his jeans and stayed in just his underwear before coming back to bed with you. he gently helped you making you more comfortable and relaxed on the bed, knowing that the position you were in wasn’t helping. you had your head over his chest and his hands gently rubbing your back.

“goodnight love” he whispered but your eyes were already closed and you were slowly drifting off to sleep, dreaming about all the kinky things you would ask drew to try with you once you woke up.

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barcapix · 10 months ago

Text

✮ Affair of the Heart - Pablo Gavi

————————————————————————

Pablo Gavira x Fem!Reader

SY: Forbidden Love x childhood besfriends to lovers trope. You fell in love with your childhood bestfriend, not knowing he felt the same way. Things take an unexpected turn, one that you are afraid of.

A/N: This took so much longer than i thought and more of a story fic - lmk for part 2!

Warnings: slight angst

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

You stood in front of your mirror, applying the final touches to your makeup before slipping on your black silhouette heels, in preparation to attend this party tonight.

Recently, you’d fractured a small bone in your ankle causing you to lose your ability to drive. Considerably, your best-friend, Pablo, had offered to pick you up and drive you to his family home; he didnt like the thought of you taking a taxi there.

You both were really good friends from an early age but there was an undeniable chemisty simmering beneath your frienhdsip, one that had been growing for months.

You loved him, more than friends. Although, your freindship had become alot more flirtacious in recent times, but you still didn’t think that he felt the same way, so naturally you kept your secret hidden.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

The doorbell rang, followed by an eager knock; you inisited to walk down to his car, but he advised against it, now coming to pick you up from your doorstep.

You took a final deep breath, feeling a fluster of nerves scrunch up inside your stomach. What if you accidentally ruined your friendship? What if you made a fool of yourself?

After some thought, you decided to push away those eerie thoughts to the back of your head, only focusing on the soon-to-be events of the party.

After a final glance at the mirror, you smoothed down your scarlett red dress which hugged your figure perfectly, in all the right places; approaching your front door with a friendly smile.

Opening the door, your met with wide eyed Pablo, who’s mouth soon turned into a jaw drop. “Wow… you look-" he whispered breathlessly, shaking his head with a cheesy grin dancing on his lips.

You laughed lightly at his reaction, heart racing. "Good I hope?”

“Mhm…” he eventually exhaled out, still not taking his eyes off of you.

“Awww look at you - all silent like this! You don’t look too bad yourself Pabs” quietly laughing at your own words.

You ruffled up his hair in attempt to make him lose focus, swiftly walking past him whilst dragging him along to his own car.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

The drive to his house felt longer than usual, and the ball of anxiety you pushed away earlier, was gnawing back at your insides, making your throat go dry.

“You okay?” Gavi spoke, sensing how you zoned out from reality, drowning in your own thoughts.

“Uh huh, yeah definitely” you said a little too confidently, trying to mask away your worries.

Pablo only frowned at you, giving you a little nod and a click of his tongue, “If you say so.”

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

Once parked up outside of his home, Gavi switched off the engine, humming quietly to himself as if he was ready to confess something. You, of course, stayed oblivious to this as the longer he was next to you, the more nervous you’d get. Selfishly prioritising yourself in that moment.

You sigh heavily, needing to get some fresh air before the vomit pooling in your stomach would travel up your throat, which obviously you didn’t want to happen.

Just as he turned his head in your direction, mouth open ready to speak, you clicked open the door pushing it aside and carefully stepping outside. “You coming?”

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

As the door swung open, you were greeted with immediate ear-to-ear smiles and open arms by the surrounding Gavira family.

Particularly his mom, Belen, held onto you like you were a lost possession that had been found, squeezing the air out of your lungs.

“I’m so happy I get to see you again querida!!” Belen squealed, welcoming you with a kiss either side of your cheeks. “How long has it been now? ¿Una, dos, tres…”, she began counting on her fingers, “Three weeks!”

You chortled continuously as she was catching you up on stories that she was saving, especially for you. Light chatter and laughter were present amongst the dining area, everybody gathering around to take their first line of drinks.

“Are you going to come get one?” she questioned, rising up from her seat. “Yeahh,” hesitating, “maybe just a tiny one.”

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

You feel a sense of belonging as throughout the evening you exchange hugs with his family members who are genuinely happy to see you again. The living room, adorned with family photos and a cozy ambiance, felt like a second home. It always has done, you’d practically live there when you were tiny.

Whilst you were catching up with everyone, you felt a small knock to your arm and a strong smell of men’s minty cologne. God, you could recognise that smell from miles away.

Just as you were about it excuse yourself from his aunt, Almenda, he’d already jumped in to do it for you.

Within seconds, she had waved you goodbye, giving you a subtle wink on her way past. You had noticed things similar to that all evening, but never really puzzled them together.

“Hey, do you wanna get some fresh air? I know I do. It’s way too hot in here.”

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

Pablo guided you to the balcony of his home. The wind whistling with anticipation, the breeze just right.

Gavi let out a long sigh as if it had been building on his chest for ages. He kept stealing looks at you every so often, trying to be secretive. Eventually, he leaned into the metal bars, resting his forearms against it looking down and his feet.

“Y/n,” he began, “Are you gonna keep pretending like I’m just a friend to you?”

A chill ran down your spine and your stomach dropped. The same nauseous sensation rising back up from earlier.

What? How did he know?

You stuttered trying to form words, but your pure embarrassment prevented you from speaking aloud. “Aurora talks.” he mumbled, keeping his eyes glued to the floor.

Damn it, he knew how you felt. He knew it.

Likewise, you moved your eyes to look down in the floor in shame. It was evident in your face, the breeze unable to cool down the hot flushes running up and down your body.

“We can just forget about this Pablo. Nothing has to happen, it’s just a silly feeling of mine.” You spun on your heel already prepared to rush back to your apartment.

That was, the plan, until he grabbed hold of you.

“Please don’t go. I want to talk to you.”

You gulped at his sudden reaction. He was never usually pleading for you to stay.

“Look…” he exclaimed, pulling gently at your arm so you stood next to him. He paused, inhaling sharply, “I’ve had the same feelings for you, all along.”

Pablo shook his head calmly, admitting his desires.

You stumbled over your words, unsure of what to say. “You do?”

Still refusing to look you in the eyes, “Fuck y/n, of course I do! I think about what we can be - day and night. You’re on my mind at work, at home, outside, everywhere.”

He wasn’t angry, but more so annoyed that he had to keep his feelings locked away for so long. You never knew this side of him.

“Rora told me how you feel. If we were to be together… how you’d feel scared because of fans, the media, what people think.”

He took a second to breathe, and finally turned his head to look at you.

“But I promise, with my life, I’ll protect you from it all - no matter how big or small you think it is.”

You wanted this so badly. To be with the guy you had caught feelings for 4 months ago.

Although you fought hard to hide it, the slight panic in your eyes were inevitable to see.

“Can we just try? Try us”

“Pablo, what about the risks?” you eventually spoke up, your mouth running dry once more.

“We can deal with it - together.”

The panic had seized your mind making it go foggy, uncertainties remained.

"You know that cant happen Pablo, the threats you and I would recieve... and your career? What if it impacts-”

"I dont care about my career!" he interrupted, his voice rising in intensity. "I care about you. I want to be able to take you out, to hold your hand in public without worrying what the press will say."

"I cant keep hiding how I feel about you..." he said running a hand through his curls, his frustation palpable.

The weight of his words settled on your chest, tightening at the thought, you felt the urge to give in, to let your heart lead the way. "But the risks-"

"What if we just..tried?" he suggested, stepping closer, his eyes searching yours for an asnswer.

"I have to go to the Barca premiere next week, and I want you to be my plus 1.”

The imaginary walls around you began to draw even closer. The idea was intoxicating - being with him in the open, claiming your love. But the fear of what might happen was too overwhelming.

"Pablo, it’s not only about us. There are people out there that would willingly hurt your family, your friends.."

"What about us?" he asked in a softer tone. "What about our happiness? What we want?"

You took a sharp inhale, both your heart and mind racing.

"I want that too, okay? I do, but its so complicated."

Gavi reached for your hand, pulling you impossibly closer. "You make me happy y/n, nothing else matters."

His gaze held so much emotion, the yearning to surrend to this moment was strong. Yet, you still had doubts in your mind.

"What if they dont accept us?"

"Then we fight together," he said, determintaion shining in his eyes. "Ill stand by you no matter what."

Gavi's words had blanketed you like a warm embrace but the fear of the unknown still lingered.

"I need time to think," you finally admitted. You wanted it as much as he did, but he didnt understand it was going to be much harder for you.

He nodded, a look of understanding passing between you both.

"Of course, take all the time you need - just know that I’m here and I’m not going anywhere."

The pain is his eyes made you want to pull him into a tight hug, telling him it wasn’t him, it was you.

It wasn’t him, it was you.

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fanboyzuko · 2 months ago

Note

Question... Are we allowed multiple requests? If like, nobody else is asking? Cos if so, I'm kinda hoping for something on the angstier end of things... Maybe some good ole' Azula action? Like to do with Zuko's letters? Or maybe something from their days as children... but basically something to do with Lu Ten's Butterbee and Firefly <33

BUT since you've already done my request please prioritise any other requests first :)))

As always, love you and your work!!

Countdown to LTF's return: 10 days!

Multiple requests absolutely allowed heheh. This had my heart in a clutch ty ty

“Hey, Firefly,” Lu Ten said, knocking on Azula’s door as he opened it.

“Get out!”

He couldn’t see her immediately in her room, but Lu Ten didn’t leave the doorway. “Are you sure? I wanted to ask how you’re doing.”

“Funny way to say you want to yell at me too for being too ‘mean’ or whatever,” Azula grumbled. Her voice came from her bed, but it was hard to tell in the low lighting if she was under her covers or huddled on the floor.

Lu Ten hummed as he leaned against the door frame. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t praise you for being nice, that’s not why I’m here. How are you, Azula?”

Azula’s little head popped up from the other side of her bed. She scrunched her nose at him. “What are you talking about? What do you mean, how am I? I’m great! I mastered the fifth intermediate form today! That’s faster than even you! I’m amazing! Stupid Zuzu is just jealous that he hasn’t even started the intermediates. I don’t see why I have to be scolded for his jealousy!”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Wait, what?”

Lu Ten bit back a laugh at Azula’s shocked expression. She wouldn’t appreciate it right now, but spirits she was so cute when she was being genuine. “May I come in?”

She waved him in, and clambered onto her bed to sit crossed legged on it. With wide eyes, she stared at him expectantly. “You really agree with me? You didn’t just lie so I’d let you in?”

“Yeah, I do agree. I’m not saying your mom was wrong to scold you for what you said, but I get why you said it.” Lu Ten sat next to her and smiled wryly. “I know the feeling when you’ve worked really hard at something and want to be acknowledged for it, but then it seems like no one cares.”

Azula’s lip trembled. “Father just told me to master the sixth form. And then Mom immediately took Zuzu’s side when he started whining and I told him to shut up!”

“That’s not all you said, let’s not pretend otherwise.”

“Fine!” Azula scowled and crossed her arms tight against her chest. She turned her nose up, away from Lu Ten. “I told him he’d be lucky to learn the fifth form by the time he’s Uncle’s age! But only because he said it didn’t look that hard! It is hard! And I’m not wrong, he sucks at firebending! He will be lucky to get where I’m at!”

“Hm, I heard.” Lu Ten pulled Azula into a side hug, interrupting her accusation of him being a liar. “And I know you know that was wrong. Just like I know Zuko knows he was in the wrong too. I’m not going to say anything more about it.”

Azula glared up at him, her cheek pressed against his chest completely ruining the sternness of the look. “So, what? You just came to tell me what I already know, huh?”

“Of course not, Firefly.” Lu Ten grinned and trapped her head to ruffle her hair. She shrieked and tried to escape his grasp. It had been a while since Lu Ten pulled this trick on her. He forgot how fast these dang kids were growing. She elbowed him hard. He had to swallow a pained groan as she pulled away and started brushing her hair down with her fingers.

Pushing through the pain in his side, Lu Ten smiled broadly at his gremlin of a little sister. “I’m proud of you, Azula. You’ve worked really hard and done something amazing.”

“Well, I’m glad someone recognizes that!” Azula said haughtily to cover up how her eyes were starting to well up.

Lu Ten shook his head and held his arms out. “Can I have a hug?”

“Are you going to mess up my hair again?” she asked warily.

“Of course not!”

He was lying that time.

‘The problem is, Yangchen writes about the gentle flame as something you need precise control over. I’m not very good with that, but that is your expertise, isn’t it? I dunno, but I thought it might be something you’d enjoy trying. If only to rub it in my face that you could do it when I couldn’t.’

Azula watched the flames dancing in her hand with a wry grin.

“You told me to learn this, Zuzu. You better not throw a jealous fit about it.”

#haelreadsshit #learning to fly #ltf extras #5th anniversary prompts #not thaat much angst but its angsty bc we know lu ten is gone and azula can never have his support again? :'3 #and blink and you miss it spoiler for things to come at the end heheheh

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tryandbehappy · 3 months ago

Note

what do you think nick's betrayal is going to be?

Thank you for your question ♥️

Honestly, I don’t know. And I don’t even want to try to guess.

I never manage to predict the storylines in any show, and honestly, I don’t want to.

What I can talk about is the place where Nick is emotionally right now and it’s very clear!

Nick is tired.

Tired of saving June while always being her second choice 🫠😭 Tired of losing himself as a man because by clinging to her, he betrays his own values and the life he tried to build.

He’s married now, he has responsibilities, a family coming (And Nick by nature is very devoted) and for once, he has some version of safety.

Also he said himself to Rita, he is in “the safest place in the safest time.”

And for Nick, that matters.

Nick has never been someone who loves reckless risk.

And June for all her brilliance always pulled him into chaos with her fire. He followed because he loved her. (But still was irritated because she’s too reckless😀the only fights they had were about this!)

But because she was with him it was worth it.

But now, she’s not with him. She’s with Luke.

And he knows it. And “he’s nothing”.

He’s trying to separate from that love to save himself.

There were so many signs.

His father-in-law told him to prioritise. Because his son is about to be born

His wife and unborn child are counting on him.

He has a life now , imperfect life, but it’s his.

Whatever “betrayal” comes, I believe it will be born not from cruelty, but from exhaustion.

Nick will choose his own survival, because loving June — this way, from the shadows, endlessly risking everything is killing him.

I want to believe that whatever he does, it won’t intentionally hurt June or the people she loves.

If any harm happens, it won’t be something Nick knew would happen when he made his choice.

Because no matter what they try to suggest now, we have seen who Nick truly is.

And he is not a villain.

He is a man breaking under the weight of love that has nowhere safe to land.

For two or even three seasons now, he has been trying to let go. (I can’t move on, I tried I really tried but I can’t 😭)

Every time, a little more.

Every time, failing.

“I’ve lost you over and over again” = it screams pain that he’s exhausted of. He’s been losing her since he met Luke and that happened in s2 btw! Can you imagine how many times he has chosen her selflessly and risked everything he had for her.

Maybe this time… he will finally break free.

And however he chooses, wherever he goes, I will stand with him.

Because I understand him.

And because right now, I just feel sorry for him.

He loves her.

He’s suffering.

And he’s too tired to keep living inside a love that only hurts.

BUT NOW LISTEN

And I truly hope that, for June, this will become a moment of real clarity too.

Maybe at first, she will feel betrayed, hurt, angry even.

But eventually, I hope she will understand.

Understand why he had to walk away.

Understand that real love is not about guilt or obligation or staying just because someone waited for you.

Real love is about choosing someone with your whole heart — the way Nick always chose her.

I hope she will realize that staying with Luke out of duty, while loving another man in her soul, is not loyalty.

It’s slow cruelty.

It’s hurting herself and hurting Luke!

And June, who has always talked about how important love is

who believes people die from the lack of love, not the lack of sex

still has so much to learn about what love really means.

Nick already knows.

His loyalty, his devotion, his heartbreak, have been absolute.

And maybe now, by losing him, she will finally understand what it is to truly love!

Maybe she will finally choose with no guilt, no excuses, no second-guessing.

Maybe this time in the end of the series she will choose Nick.

And maybe that will be the love story they were always meant to have.

#or the writers will screw everything up #the handmaid’s tale #nick june #osblaine

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hangingslothcentral · 3 months ago

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There are like four main questions people seem to want to ask me about writing and they are: - how do you find the time - how do you finish a project - how do you even START a project - where do you get your ideas from

Let's talk about the first one of these: how do you find the time?

Firstly writing for audio drama is now a part of my job so I HAVE to find the time, and because my job is now flexible, I can move around how my working weeks look so that I can schedule more chunks of time to dedicate to writing novels. But because writing novels is not my job, in order to write the way I do, I also have to decide to write instead of doing other things. I have to decide to write instead of going to social events or doing other leisure activities.

The real bummer is that the answer to this question really boils down to this: you don't find the time; you choose to make the time. You decide not to go meet up with your friends to write instead. You switch to online shopping so you can claim back the time it takes to get to the supermarket to write with. You wake up an hour early so you can get a couple of hundred words in before work. I have written novels whilst working two jobs and doing a degree. I have written novels when I was incredibly physically ill and in bed for months. That didn't happen because the time was immediately available, it happened because I decided that writing was my first priority, so when I was dividing up my available time and energy, it was the first thing on my list after I'd already allocated what I needed to my jobs, my degrees, to cook for myself.

You are not me, though, and if you're asking about how to find the time, there are probably a ton of other things warring for your time and attention and writing is struggling to make the cut for whatever reason. That is okay.

A thing I see a lot of people talking about building a 'writing habit' so that it comes naturally to you to just do it, as part of your routine, but the reality is for a lot of people your schedule is too eclectic and changeable for that to work, so instead you gotta be intentional about it, every time.

If you want to write, make a commitment to yourself to do it. Start small; promise yourself you'll find one hour to spend writing this week. It can be all at once or in little chunks.

It also feels important to mention that some people are simply too sick to be able to write. That is okay too. It may also be the case that your schedule is too full of things you can't change for you to be able to make writing a priority right now. That is also okay. It's all okay. There is no shame in not being able to find the time to write. Please know that when I'm talking about this, shame is not what I'm hoping to illicit.

But the crux of it is; you have to choose to write if you want to be a writer. If you want to do it, you will find a way, but the only way that's going to happen for you is if you decide writing is a priority which you're going to place above certain other things. You can't put writing ahead of stuff like your day job or caring responsibilities, and health conditions and disabilities will make it harder for you to make sure you have the energy to write. But in the end it comes down to making a decision to prioritise your practice over other things you might be doing instead, as much as that is possible for you in the moment. Sometimes that means you won't have the time or energy to write at all. That doesn't mean you don't want to. As long as you're being intentional, as long as it's something you're thinking about making a priority when you have the space to do so, that is you being intentional about not finding, but making the time to write, wherever you can. Even during the weeks, months, years where you just can't.

As I've mentioned, it might be that you're in a situation where there just is not a way right now for you to make writing a priority. If that's the case for you, remember now is not forever, and if you want to write, try to bear that in mind the next time you experience a shift in the way the breakdown of your time works so that you can make sure you're making time to write if it is important to you to do so. It might mean asking for help from others. For me, it meant choosing to live on a more restricted income through limiting my working hours at my day job so my writing practices could be more sustainable; before they were cutting into the time I should have been using to sleep.

It is also possible that right now, writing just isn't a priority for you, even though it could be. That's not wrong, but if you're beating yourself up about not being able to find the time to write and you're choosing to do other stuff instead, this might be a moment to reflect on why writing isn't something you want to prioritise now. Hanging out with friends; playing games; doing sports; really anything you might be doing might just be more important to you than writing is right now. It's important to acknowledge when this is the case for us because there is no shame in acknowledging that some things are more important to you than writing, and hopefully coming to terms with that knowledge will help you feel at peace with the real order of your priorities here. And the great thing is, the order of your priorities is something that you shape as an individual, and you can always choose to re-evaluate your priorities if you want to.

Life is finite. However you want to spend the time you have is up to you. Writing is hard and often thankless as an activity. It takes a long time to develop your skills, and a lot of that time is spent working alone. If you want to make something, the act of simply dedicating your time to making it is one of the most difficult things to do, but it's also one of the most powerful. Every time you sit down to write you're giving yourself the chance to get better at writing. Every word you put on the page brings you closer to a finished work.

Whatever a sustainable commitment to writing looks like to you - whether it's carving out the time to spend an hour a week or even just an hour a month - it is meaningful.

#writing advice #writing process #on writing #writeblr #creative writing #writing #writers on tumblr #eira speaks

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kitorin · 2 years ago

Text

sweet dreams.

in which, nanami kento finally goes on a long overdue vacation

contents. nanami kento x gn!reader, 2.965k words, fluff but then heavy angst (mcd and hurt no comfort), mentions of murder (true crime stuff) but no detail of it, reader is a coward and really can't handle horror (sorry that's just me projecting)

"What did you do?"

Guilt makes your lips purse, tongue swiping over them out of habit. You didn't want to call him, to interrupt him during the night shift he ever so loathes, contributing to the things he has to do.

But with demons lurking in the dark and the sense of impending doom beginning to latch onto you, it felt necessary, especially when fear decided to be quite clingy.

"I got scared."

A tired sigh comes from the phone. "How many times do I have to tell you not to watch anything disturbing at night?"

"This documentary got really interesting. I wanted to know what happened next..." Explicit content was fine, with Kento there to cling onto and his never-ending reassurance. Your husband watched these intense shows and documentaries without so much of a flinch, unfazed by quite literally everything displayed on the screen.

You, on the other hand, was a completely different case.

The slightest raise in volume managed to steal a scream from you, and jump scares had you flinching just a bit too hard. The mere build up and suspense of the music had your heart racing, even if nothing happened and it served as a little trick.

"I'm so sorry Ken, I'll hang up so you can focus on work." You're an adult, you shouldn't be so cowardly towards a mere genre of entertainment, and you should know better not to consume it.

Your thumb reaches for the red button, and your emotions hold you back, while rationality argues not to.

"No. Neither of us are going to be hanging up."

One part of you celebrates quietly, while another insists. "But you're working. Overtime nonetheless, and I know you hate those shifts. It's best to get everything done as soon as possible and get out of there."

His voice is raspy, garnished by a sultry tone. "Love, I belong to you, not my job. I do appreciate your thoughts, but you're more important than a mere paycheck."

Fuck. There it is, his eloquent, smooth way with words.

"Still. I can wait." That was a lie, though one you were willing to utter if it meant he'd prioritise his job. "Besides, what about that higher up you mentioned? The irritating one that's childish and overtalkative?"

Kento chuckles. "He's here, but he takes his job seriously and is highly capable. I'm on break anyways. Talk to me. If you can."

"I read about the Sapporo murder case. I still feel like the culprits from the case is going to sneak up on me. Or one of the zombies from Happiness." You adored the show and its cast, but god forbid you sit through another one of its jump scares.

"That's fine, it's normal. The point of this type of media is so scare. A lot of effort is put into making sure they elicit emotion." You cling onto every word he speaks, the world around you still there, only a bit blurry now. "Breathe in through your nose for four second, pause for two. Then breathe out through your mout for another eight."

Have you brushed your teeth?"

Kento hums as a response when you answer yes.

"Where are you right now?"

"In bed, but I need to clean up and turn off some lights before I sleep."

"Ignore it. I'll do it when I'm home."

"Are you sure?" There was no point in asking that, not when you'd rather not move away from the security of the doona. "You're going to be exhausted by the time you're home."

"Doesn't matter to me." Genuine indifference to the matter displays itself in Kento's tone. "I took a nap earlier, had a coffee or two as well. I'm going to be alright—" Something in the background echoes, though you could barely decipher what you were hearing, the furious tone of the voice concerned you.

"Who was that...? Is your boss mad at you? Wait but it doesn't make sense for a boss to give you a nickname—"

For a moment or two, Kento remained silent. "No, just an enthusiastic intern. He's talkative and sometimes loud but he's a good kid."

Your former worry dissipates, so quick that it almost seemed like it was never there in the first place. "Nanamin, was it?"

He sighs, the two of you know damn well that you'll refuse to forget that one.

"It's cute! Nanamin. I like how it sounds."

Voice softening, he replies with a chuckle. "I feel like you'd get along well."

"You should invite him over then. He must adore you if he's calling out to you that much."

"If that's true then I'd say the feeling is quite mutual." All you have is his voice, yet you can say without a doubt that he's beaming, a subtlety only you'll ever know— one of the many which compose the love between the two of you.

"Keep working." You whisper as a yawn claws out of your throat.

"Are you sure? Are you okay now?"

You nod, though he can't see it. "I am. Just listening to you helps a lot."

"I'm glad."

"Do your best at work, okay? And make sure you stay safe on the way home?" You hold back a grin, even though you're alone in your shared bedroom. "I have a surprise for you when you get home."

Kento piques with curiosity. "Really?"

"Yup, I think you'll love it." You stare at your bedside table, where tickets to Malaysia were stored. "I hope you do, at least."

"If it's coming from you of course I'll love it sweetheart." It's miraculous really, how you've been together for so long yet you have to suppress the urge to squeal over his sweet words. "My boss is going to start making me work again, good night darling. Sweet dreams, love."

You fall asleep with ease that night, this time with welcomed thoughts of spending time with Kento on the shore of Kuantan, running around whilst cherishing the cold, salty water licking at your ankles; rather than the intrusive thoughts from earlier.

"You could've kept talking to them. I wouldn't've told anyone even if it took a lot of time."

Fushiguro Megumi is examining the sharpness of his blade when he reassures his teacher Nanami Kento, not looking up from his weapon, seated by the railing of the bridge.

"I appreciate that, but it'd be wrong of you." He moves his shoulders in circles, loosening his tie to wrap it around his knuckles. "I can teach you other methods."

"Pardon?"

Nanami crouches in front of Megumi. "Your breathing changed when I told them how to." The student doesn't respond. "It varies from person to person, I've tested out a lot."

Megumi still doesn't answer, averting his gaze towards the weapon that he held down.

"Fushiguro - kun. Are you scared?"

The younger finally speaks once more. "... I guess." Hesitation presents itself in his words, barely stable and his reluctance to maintain eye contact. "I won't let that stop me from completing my tasks—"

"It's okay. You're merely sixteen, you're not even old enough to drink, nor get your driver's licence."

Megumi returns to silence.

"Look at me." And so Megumi does. "To be a child is not a sin. I'm perfectly fine with withdrawing you from this operation if it's too much."

"Wouldn't that get you in trouble?"

Indeed he would. He'd tolerate plenty of discipline and anger from the higher ups. But Nanami Kento knows too well what it's like to risk you and your peers for a 'greater good', at nonetheless a ridiculously young age too—an age where you're supposed to go to regular school and be regular, stupid kids figuring themselves out; not witnessing the death of the ones dear to your heart with the sight of their corpses forever imprinted into your mind, nor have the stench of blood memorised meticulously instead of historical dates or mathematical formulas.

If it were up to him, he'd prohibit such exploitation of children. None should be performing such tasks, even if born with an advantageous cursed technique.

If the higher ups adopted the same philosophy as him, Haibara would be alive and well, and Nanami wouldn't feel his stomach lurch whenever he sees a bowl of rice, nor flinch whenever he hears the mention of Geto Suguru.

'I don't mind if it means you'll be at ease. Gojo can protect me, and if I'm unable to extract you from this operation then I'll handle everything."

Megumi takes a deep breath. "I shouldn't run away. I'll do my best. I have Tsumiki I need to return to. We should go find Itadori now."

“If you say so then, but it’s still my duty to protect you.” With a final, strong tug he tightens his tie around his knuckles. “I can't guarantee any results, not in this instable world and career. What I can promise, is that I will protect you with my life."

A determined nod from Megumi is all he needs.

Quick and efficient; that's the plan. Shibuya was already a mess, and all he wanted was the security of your arms within the four walls he calls 'home'.

"Thank you for having us."

Megumi, the one with the messy, black hair speaks coldly, though very politely, his manners were courteous and so was Yuuji. They'd come to your door and introduced themselves as interns at Kento's company. Now, they were seated in your living room, on your couch.

"Don't mention it, Ken's always been fond of the interns." You already miss him, he must've stayed overnight at the company again. "Are you okay with first names?"

Both nod.

You smile. "So, Yuuji, Megumi, what have you come here for?"

Yuuji speaks first. "It's about Nanamin, I mean Nanami—"

Without malicious attempt you cut him off. "Nanamin is fine, I overheard you calling him that last night. He was fond of it, it was quite cute after all." You chuckle to yourself at it.

The boy swallows, appearing apprehensive. He sounded so enthusiastic last night, perhaps he was the type who needed to warm up towards people first.

"Well, um."

You don't say anything, giving him time to respond comfortably.

"Nanami sensei passed away last night." Megumi finishes what Yuuji couldn't.

Your heart drops.

Temptation to make an accusation of a prank attempts to claw out of your throat, but with how their expressions scream nausea and discomfort, it'd be rude to do so.

That explained why he never kept his promise of finishing up on chores, knowing Kento he would’ve done everything to make sure he made it home to do as he said he would.

"What happened?" It doesn't feel right— and it isn't at all, but you have to figure out the truth, even if this all doesn't seem real.

"There was a fire." Yuuji whispers, barely loud enough and coherent with the tremble of his voice. "And he didn't make it out in time."

You remain silent, so does Megumi. Yuuji bites his lip, suppressing what seemed to be a sob.

"I see."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. If only—" It drowns out in his bawling. "It was my fault. He—"

He completely lacked incoherency now, hiccuping as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"He helped us first." Megumi once again continues Yuuji's words. "But they recovered his body, we brought you his ashes."

He pulls out a package from his shoulder bag, wrapping it to reveal a pale blue funerary urn. Megumi places it onto the table.

"I'm sorry. If I had been capable of protecting myself he wouldn't've died saving me."

Your gaze meets Megumi’s, you're too afraid to properly acknowledge the urn, where your boyfriend was supposedly resting.

Silence permeates the air, Yuuji bites his sleeve to suppress his crying and Megumi breathes shakily.

"Don't apologise. You have no reason to. Neither of you." You've barely known the two, but the way Yuuji was sobbing broke your heart, and how both seemed to genuinely believe they caused Kento's passing. "It's not your fault. I don't think it is, and he would agree with him. He made the choice to help you, because he cared deeply for both of you. You can cry freely, I won't stop you." You muster a smile, hoping it'll be comforting in some sort of way. They're only kids, they can't be blaming themselves for the death of another they didn't cause.

Yuuji's teeth release the sleeve of his hoodie, hiccuping out what sounded like a thank you. You push a tissue box towards him, to which he accepts the offer.

"You idiot…” Megumi sniffles a bit.

“It’s okay, you’re going to be fine.” You pat him on the back, rubbing it too. You give him your phone, opening a new contact. “I’d like to invite you two to the funeral, can I have your contact details? In the meantime I’ll make some tea.”

You earn a nod, and are quick to retreat into the kitchen, hand holding your mouth shut as you slowly cry, pleading for Yuuji and Megumi to be unable to hear.

"Kento! We're here, at Kuantan!"

After a long flight and travel, you finally arrived at your destination, you had dropped your luggage off at the accommodation, the urn Megumi had given you was held up against your chest.

I've always wanted to go to Kuantan, in Malaysia. One day I'd like to build a house on a secluded beach and live there. Of course with you, if you were okay with it.

You take off your sandals, tossing them away as you approach the shoreline, the coolness of the water catching you off guard. You continue walking, until it reaches halfway up your calves.

Off goes the lid of the urn, and you toss the ashes into the beach, watching the waves swallow Kento whole. It's not long before the urn is empty, you've never had to scatter someone's ashes, yet it felt like something was missing.

In all honesty, you have no idea if Kento wanted to be cremated, you've never touched on the subject of death, probably because the two of you were so young.

But something tells you this is the right decision. Kuantan's beautiful, and he wanted to go when work and money permitted him to do so. He'd loved to read a book under the shade of that large tree over there, and would've wanted to try fishing at the rock ledge nearby. It was just the two of you here, even better.

Fuck.

As you watch him swim into the ocean, you notice the tears threatening to spill. You don't bother trying to avoid it, not that you would've been able to.

"It's not fair!" You yell, out into the ocean. You don't blame Yuuji, or Megumi, or anyone, but you're still livid. "I miss you, I miss you so much that it gets hard to breathe."

The ring box feels heavy in your pocket.

"If you had to leave this world early you could've done it later." Your cry becomes a sob. "Just one month, then I could've fucking proposed. I don't need a honeymoon or marriage, I just want your fucking answer."

In an ideal world, you'd like to think that he would've accepted without hesitation, but that fantasy doesn't compare to the pain of remaining oblivious to his answer forever.

"Who's going to comfort me now? Who am I going to spend the rest of my life with? Who am I going to cook dinner with? What about Yuuji and Megumi? They had to finish their internships without you. Do you know how hard Yuuji cried when he came to tell me you passed away?"

By no means are you mad at Kento, you could never. But anger that slowly accumulated in your heart for the past few months, and had erupted. The empty coldness of your bed stings, and the amount of cutlery required being halved overwhelms you with misery. You can’t even laugh at his high school photos anymore, the amusement from his ridiculous haircut can’t triumph over the fact that he had passed away a mere ten years later.

You’d much rather store it all away, each and every possession and photo of the man. The sight of his favourite mug serves as a harsh reminder that morning coffee with him will never happen. Listening to old voice mails seemed reassuring and almost lulled you to sleep, until you had to come to terms that he was truly gone once more.

But at least sound can be captured.

What about his scent? Eventually his clothes would lose their scent, they probably were already on that course, even with your refusal to wash them. Touch can’t be preserved, you can cling onto the memory of your skin against his for as long as you want, but you’ll never truly experience it again.

“Goodbye Kento!” Despite your miserable state you pull yourself together just enough so you can see him off with a smile. “I love you, so so much. More than anything in the world, I always will! Thank you, for being there. Th-thank you for loving me.”

You've lost the energy to yell, throat now hoarse. You venture deeper into the shore, not caring about your clothes getting wet, as your face gets soaked with your own tears.

Who's fault is it? Was it the culprit of the fire (if there was one)? Or perhaps yours, for not proposing earlier. Maybe then he would've been safe and sound in Kuantan, after taking leave. Perchance it was the heavens deciding they’d rather just not authorise him to spend the rest of his name.

Whoever it was, it doesn't matter. Nothing could bring back the warmth of Nanami Kento.

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