#I was excited to finally be in love again

[tender-rosiey]

hello, love! i hope you're doing great! i love reading your works and thank you so much for writing such beautiful pieces 🫶🏻

soooo... i was thinking of making a request! i'm not sure if you've written about this or not and please feel free to ignore it if you're uncomfortable with writing it or if you've already written it but here's the request:

satoru with newborn twin daughters 🥹

i noticed that there are almost no twin dad gojo fics and we already know that he's a girl dad. plus, i love your writing style. hence this thought. again, thank you so much for your hard work, rose! stay hydrated and have a great day! byeeee!

twin girls (and gojo ig) — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: i cant believe it took me like 7 months to finally post this; i am so sorry 🙏 BUT i am so so happy that you like my works and srsly thank you for your sweet words. they mean the world 🥹 hope that you like this as well! have a wonderful day!! 🫶🫶

the only thing worse than having one girl you can’t say no to is having two.

add to that the fact that satoru is already a softie when it comes to his daughters, and it’s a recipe for disaster—if you’re not there to intervene.

"papa, I want a dress!" one of your twins looks up at satoru with wide, sparkling eyes, her hands tugging at the hem of his shirt.

her sister quickly chimes in, her voice a little shyer but just as determined. "I-I want a dress too, papa!"

satoru crouches down to their level, hands on his knees as he looks between his two little girls, his white hair falling messily into his eyes.

“two dresses, huh?” his voice takes on a faux-serious tone. “what kind of dresses are we talking about?”

“sparkly!”

“twirly!”

“pink!”

“blue!”

their voices rise with excitement, and satoru’s grin only grows wider as he listens, nodding as though their demands are being carefully cataloged in his mind.

you can’t help but smile from the doorway, watching the scene unfold. his enthusiasm when it comes to them is both endearing and ridiculous.

"satoru," you call out, interrupting his train of thought. your arms are crossed, and a teasing smile plays on your lips. "we agreed they only need one dress each, remember?"

he turns toward you with a playful pout, the twins following his gaze.

“they’re my princesses, wifey! how can I deny them a little extra sparkle?” he says, completely unbothered by the parental negotiations you both agreed on just yesterday.

you raise an eyebrow, taking a few steps closer and placing a hand on his arm. “you’ll be sleeping on the couch if they come home with more than one each.”

satoru's expression shifts immediately, an exaggerated look of surrender plastered on his face as he straightens up, holding up his hands. "alright, alright. one dress each. promise."

later that evening, when you return home, your twin girls are twirling around in front of you in two dresses each—one sparkly, one twirly, naturally.

your gaze falls on satoru, who stands casually leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, whistling as if he’d done nothing wrong.

“satoru,” you pout, “I thought we had an agreement.”

he gives you a cheeky grin and a shrug, completely unbothered. “they were on sale,” he says as if that justifies everything.

the girls, oblivious to your exasperation, giggle and show off their new outfits, spinning around in excitement.

"mama, look! don't we look pretty?"

"yeah, mama! we look pretty, right?"

you press your lips into a thin line, but the fondness in your eyes betrays you. you sigh and ruffle their hair, "yes, very pretty, both of you."

the girls squeal in happiness and run around the house in their excitement. your husband nudges your arm gently with a teasing smile. you quirk an eyebrow before pushing him away with a chuckle.

you can never deny that you love seeing them so happy, even if it means satoru has bent the rules—again.

of course, life with your husband and your twin girls is a whirlwind. even bedtime is an adventure (read: a battle).

one night, the girls are bouncing off the walls in their matching pajamas, their giggles filling the room as they run circles around satoru, who’s sitting at the edge of the bed, utterly failing to get them under control.

"alright, time to settle down," he says, his tone light but lacking any real authority. the girls shake their heads as their dad is simply not cut out to be the strict parent in their eyes.

however, when he opens his arms, one of the girls takes the chance to climb his lap. his hand ruffles her hair, and she hums happily .

"papa, can we have three stories tonight?" the twin on his lap asks, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

her sister, not wanting to miss out, rushes over and clings to his other arm. "no! I want four stories!"

satoru sighs dramatically, glancing over at you for backup. you are sitting like the boss you are on the loveseat in the room. you look up when you feel your husband's eyes on you.

“they only get one story,��� you remind him, trying not to laugh at his predicament.

satoru looks between the two girls, their wide eyes fixed on him. “alright, alright,” he finally concedes, holding up two fingers. “two stories. that’s my final offer.”

he hears you groan, and his heart breaks at disappointing you, but he can’t just say no to them. the twins cheer as if they’ve won a war, grabbing their favorite books from the bedside table.

it takes you a few moments before you smile helplessly as you watch him negotiate with them like it’s a high-stakes sorcery mission. it's not long before your daughters fall asleep. satoru's voice has always been comfort incarnate for them.

"you’re too soft," you tease as you walk over to him, pinching his nose—he yelps as quietly as he can, so you plant a soft kiss on his temple.

he leans into your touch for a moment, closing his eyes. "can’t help it," he mutters, "they’ve got your charm.”

afternoons are no less chaotic, especially at the park, where the twins drag satoru toward the swings, their little hands gripping his fingers as they bounce excitedly.

"papa, push me higher!" one demands, already settling onto the swing.

"me too! higher!" her sister echoes, scrambling onto the swing beside her.

satoru stands behind them, cracking his knuckles.

“higher, huh? I think I can manage that.” he gives the first swing a firm push, sending one of the twins soaring up, her laughter filling the air.

you sit on the third swing, smiling at the scene.

satoru looks over at you, his grin softening as his eyes meet yours. the way their laughter fills the atmosphere fills your heart, and you can tell that satoru feels the same.

at least, until he decides to push you and make you take full 360s on the swing.

“wow, mama is swinging!”

“in a circle!”

“satoru, I will kill you!!”

"waiting for that, wifey!"

dinner, as always, is an ongoing fight. tonight, the twins are in full protest mode against their vegetables.

"I don’t like broccoli," one twin pouts, pushing her plate away.

"me neither," her sister adds, crossing her arms as if this decision has been made final.

satoru, ever their ally in mischief, leans back in his chair, his expression far too relaxed. "well, I guess no one’s eating broccoli tonight," he says, clearly enjoying this little act of rebellion.

while you're proud of your girls backing each other up, you rather it not be right now. you shoot satoru a warning glance, shaking your head with a sigh. "they need to eat their veggies, satoru."

he shrugs, smirking lazily as he glances at the twins. “they’re gojo kids. I think they’ll survive without a little broccoli.”

the twins giggle, clearly siding with him. but you know how to play this game too; otherwise, you would have never been able to handle the man child beside you. “okay, fine,” you say with a sly smile. “no dessert if they don’t eat their veggies.”

the girls’ eyes go wide in horror, and they quickly turn to their father, their last hope. “papa, no! we want dessert!”

caught between you and the twins, satoru sighs dramatically, like he’s being asked to sacrifice everything.

“alright, alright, princesses,” he concedes, hands raised in defeat. “but you’ve gotta eat the broccoli if you want dessert. we gotta listen to mama.”

the twins reluctantly pick at their plates, eyeing the broccoli with disdain, but determined to make it to dessert.

you exchange a triumphant smile with satoru, who just rolls his eyes playfully.

and in the quieter moments, when the twins are asleep, and it’s just the two of you, he wraps his arms around you, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I don’t know how you do it,” he murmurs softly. “keeping us all in line.”

you smile, leaning into his touch, “someone’s gotta make sure we don’t end up with a house full of sparkly dresses.”

satoru laughs quietly, pulling you closer. “what can I say? I’m weak when it comes to you three.”

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[on-the-clear-blue]

Little idea wiggling about in my brain...

So like *holds Danny and Billy up by the scruff of their shirts* these two bastards won't leave my brain, and for punishment I will make them kiss...

Just, the Rock of eternity technically is Shazam's (the wizards) haunt? He has been dead for a long time, living only though his champion, what if Ghost King Danny gets slapped with a post it note that reads like

"Daniel, you're required to assist the Champion of Magic as the High King of the Realms, even Pariah helped the previous Champion Black Adam."

And Danny is like, "Sure, why not, Magic is real and so are ghosts."

And like....

Sparky Danny meeting Literal Sun Beam Billy, they are both 14, it's puppy love at its finest. Danny doesn't know what to do with gay panic and Billy is just straight up "This man is my soul mate, he shall be mine." (Call iy Zeus bestowing more than just lightning)

The leauge is very concerned why Captain Marvel seems to have a seeming underage partner.

Superman squinting very hard and trying to figure this out: So...just how old is Phantom?

Billy, unaware how bad this looks: Oh I don't know honestly, it's kinda hard to tell with beings from the Realms! Though he died when he was 14!

Superman, gripping the table (which cracks a little) :And how exactly long has he been 14?

Billy, taking out his phone and flipping out pictures: Like I said, I don't really know how old he is, but there is Egyptain hieroglyphics of him! Look!

Superman, blinking at the very real looking pictures: Ahh. Fun cool cool cool...a-and how are you again Cap?

Billy mindlessly swiping the photos, excited to show off his boyfriend:Never said it, but he is definitely older than I am.

(Danny is older by a month, Billy calls him an old man for it.)

Billy gets to live full time in Danny's haunt in the Zone, Danny built him like the best house, Tucker and Sam get to meet Billy and they just are flabbergasted that Danny "I can't get a girl to date me or else she ends up wanting to kill me" Fenton has a boyfriend that has been going steady for a few months.

My brain sees like, Maddie and Jack are 100% backing Danny, they are fully supportive of their bi/gay/pan son, but in no way would they support him if he was a ghost, like they are organizing Amitys first ever Pride parade, but there is a shoot ghosts on sight order.

And just the reveal is like...

Danny gets finally tells them he is a ghost: if you start shooting me, your shooting the only Gay person you know, not very ally of you mom and Dad.

Maddie mouth open in horror: Oh no...Jack are...are we homophobic?

Jack sharing her look of fear: Great Scott...Dann-o a-are you sure...its...it's a life style right? Y-you chose this?

Danny, trying very, very hard not to laugh: It's not a life style dad! I didn't choose to Die!

Anyway, thank you for coming to my brain word vomit, I haven't slept in 20 hours.

[mythicalmaven]

19 Lando fluff and smut please

Secret Desires - Lando Norris

Loved writing this! <3 If you guys want a part 2 where the whole ordeal continues (including Lando’s awkward encouter with Max) let me know!😂❤️

Masterlist ↳pairing: Lando Norris x female!verstappen!reader ↳word count: 4,6K ↳Summary: In which the reader is Max Verstappen's twin is Lando's friend & he accidentally confesses some things to her while he's drunk. The day after when he apologizes, it leads to something more. ↳content warnings: friends to lovers, reader is Max Verstappen's twin, lando is drunk and accidentally confesses something to the reader, suggestive content, flirting, dirty talk, sexting, sending nudes, phone sex, masturbation (both f! & m!), praise kink, fluff, smut, 18+ (MDNI!), confessing feelings ↳prompts used: 19 - "Do you have any idea how many times I thought about you.. with my hand down my pants"

You sighed deeply, sinking back into the comfort of the guest bed in your older sister's house, the covers wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The room felt different compared to your Monaco apartment, but it was cozy, filled with the nostalgia of growing up with your family as you saw the pictures hanging on the wall. Pictures of your parents, of you and your twin brother Max, of you and Victoria & so on.

You traded your own bed for the guest bedroom at Victoria's house back home in the Netherlands for the week, to spend some time with your sister again to catch up. After a long night of chatting with Vic, you finally decided to call it a day, though sleep was far from your mind.

Just as you were about to close your eyes to at least give sleeping a try, your phone lit up on the nightstand, a soft buzz drawing your attention. You reached over lazily, expecting a random notification, but your heart skipped a beat when you saw the name flashing on the screen: Lando

Your best friend, your partner in crime, and the guy you’d been secretly in love with for longer than you’d care to admit. The guy who made your heart race with a single smile and had you questioning your sanity every time you felt his touch linger just a little too long. Even though you refused to admit it to anyone with a passion. Stating that the way you felt about Lando was nothing more than two flirtatious friends. You knew you were lying to yourself and your facade was starting to crumble. And now he was texting you, at this hour?

Unlocking your phone, you were met with not one, but several messages from him. You squinted at the screen, reading the texts slowly as they loaded, your eyes widening more with each one.

Lando: Y/n… Lando: Fuhk.. why are you sooooo hotttt? 🥵 Lando: Do yhu have any idea howw many tiems I thout about you… with my hnd down my pantss Lando: *1 image attached* You felt your face heat up instantly, a wave of flustered shock washing over you. He send a photo that you had posted on your story on Instagram today, a photo of you in a cute bikini set at the pool at Vic's house.

What the hell? Lando was… Was he really saying what you thought he was saying? Your mind spun, trying to process the drunk, typo-riddled texts. You knew he must have had a few too many drinks tonight; he mentioned going out to a party with the grid earlier. But this?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, your heart racing as you tried to think of a response. A thousand emotions crashed through you at once—embarrassment, confusion, a thrill of excitement. You could barely breathe.

You: Lan, you're drunk as fuck. Go to sleep 😂

you typed back quickly, hitting send before you could second-guess yourself. You barely had time to process your own message before another one from Lando popped up.

Lando: Drunk on love 🤭

Your heart did a somersault in your chest, and you felt your cheeks burning even hotter. What was he doing? Your pulse thudded loudly in your ears as you stared at the screen, fingers frozen above the keyboard, unsure of what to say. Before you could collect your thoughts, your phone buzzed again, but this time, it was a call.

Max’s name flashed on the screen.

You answered, bringing the phone to your ear. “Max, what the hell—”

“Sorry dat ik zo laat bel,” (sorry for calling at this time) Max's voice was low and slightly slurred with a laugh. “Maar ik zag dat je online was, dus dacht, jij bent nog wakker. Wilde je alleen even een seintje geven dat de kans vrij aannemelijk is dat je vannacht nog dronken appjes krijgt van Lando.” (But I saw that you were online, so I figured you were still awake. Just wanted to give you a heads up that it's very likely that you'll receive some drunk texts from Lando tonight)

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh of your own. Of course, your twin brother knew exactly what was happening. “De kerel is echt gewoon laveloos en hield zijn mond maar niet dicht over je. De hele rit terug naar zijn apartment bleef hij maar zeuren over hoe hij je moest appen over iets geheimzinnigs. Dacht ik waarschuw je even.” (The guy is absolutely hammered and he wouldn't shut up about you. Kept yapping about how he had to text you about something secretive. Thought it would be nice to warn you)

“Te laat, is al gebeurd” (too late, he already did) you replied with a chuckle, glancing back at Lando's messages. “Had al zo’n vermoeden dat hij dronken was haha.” (I already figured he was drunk)

“Dacht ik al,” (I thought so) Max chuckled. “Hou het een beetje netjes, ja? Ik wil hier niet meer van weten dan ik al doe.” (Please keep it decent, yeah? I don't want to know any more about this than I already do)

You could almost hear the grin in his voice. “Maar ik moest hem echt thuisbrengen, de jongen was niet meer te houden.” (But I just had to bring him home, couldn't keep him at bay anymore)

“Dank je, Max,” (Thanks, Max) you said softly, biting your lip. “Je bent een goede broer.” (You're a good brother)

“Altijd,” (Always) Max replied. “Ik moet wel weer ophangen nu, voordat ik Kelly en P wakker maak. Succes met je dronken vriendje.” (Gotta hang now tho, before I wake up Kelly and P. Good luck with your boyfriend)

“Max, hoe vaak moet ik nog zeggen dat Lando en ik gewoon vrienden zijn” (Max, how often do I have to tell you that Lando and I are just friends) you said, rolling your eyes.

"Als jij jezelf niet zo voor de gek hield, waren jullie al lang samen" (If you didn't keep lying to yourself, you two would have dated a long time already) and with a last chuckle, he hung up.

You flopped back onto your bed, your mind racing, Lando’s texts still staring at you from the screen. Your fingers shook as you picked up your phone again, reading his words over and over, your stomach flipping with nerves and something else, something hotter, more dangerous.

With a deep breath, you tried to shake it off. Lando was just drunk, you told yourself. He didn’t mean it. It didn’t mean anything… Right? But the way your heart fluttered at the thought of him thinking about you like that, the way your skin prickled with excitement at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way…

You forced yourself to put the phone down, closing your eyes and trying to ignore the wild thoughts racing through your mind. It was late, and you needed to sleep. But as you drifted off, your dreams were anything but peaceful. Lando's words echoed in your mind, and you found yourself imagining all the things he might have done while thinking about you, the way he might have said your name, the way his hands might have—

You woke up, flustered and breathless, your body tingling in a way that was all too familiar. The morning sun was peeking through the curtains, but all you could think about was Lando, and the way his words made you feel things you’d tried so hard to ignore.

Around the same time, somewhere in Monaco, Lando jolts awake.

"Fuck" the single word comes out as a hiss, his head pounding from the hangover. His phone screen glares back at him, a series of messages and a notification from Max catching his blurry gaze. He squints, his heart starting to race as fragmented memories of the night before come flooding back.

He fumbles to unlock his phone, praying he didn’t do what he thinks he did. But the evidence is right there, the bold lettering of your name above the most mortifying message he could ever have sent, full of typos, but easily desiphered as 'Do you have any idea how many times I thought about you… with my hand down my pants?'

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mutters, running a hand through his messy curls, anxiety flooding his system. What the fuck had he done? His fingers move of their own accord, tapping out a frantic apology.

Lando: Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry.

You: Good morning to you too. How is your headache? 😉

He cringes at the situation, a mix of playful and mocking. His mind races, grasping at straws to somehow make this situation less embarrassing.

Lando: I don’t even remember sending that. I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, pretty sure I wasn't thinking at all. I didn’t mean it.

A lie. He did mean it. But he’s not ready to admit that just yet.

You: Oh, you definitely weren’t thinking, lol. But hey, maybe you should apologize to Max too, since you apparently spilled some beans about me to him. 😆

Lando’s eyes widen, horror painting his features. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, rubbing his forehead. He types back, heart racing.

Lando: What did I say? Please tell me I didn’t—

You: Relax, nothing too scandalous. Just enough for Max to find it disgusting.

Despite himself, a small laugh escapes his lips. He can picture Max’s reaction, the exaggerated gagging, the inevitable jokes he’ll have to endure.

Lando: I’m so sorry. Are you mad at me? I don’t want you to think I’m some idiot who can’t control himself.

You: Nah, I’m not mad. You were drunk, it’s not like you meant it anyway, right?

He swallows hard, your words hitting too close to home. A dry response forms on his screen.

Lando: Yeah, sure.

But deep down, he knows it’s not true. He’d thought about you like that more times than he cared to admit, a dangerous longing simmering beneath the surface of your friendship.

You: Hey, at least now I know I looked hot in yesterday’s bikini post.

Heat floods his cheeks. You’re playing it off, but there’s a hint of something in your words, a subtle curiosity. He swallows, fingers hovering over the keyboard before he types back, heart pounding.

Lando: Stating the obvious.

He can’t help the grin tugging at his lips as he imagines your reaction. It’s risky, but you don’t seem upset, and he’s willing to test the waters.

You: Oh? So you think I’m hot?

Lando: Didn’t know that was up for debate.

He’s toeing the line, the thrill of it sending a spark through him.

Lando: U really not mad? I’d hate to make you uncomfortable.

You: Mad? Nah. Flattered, maybe.

He blinks at your response, surprise mingling with a rush of arousal. Flattered? His mind reels, thoughts scrambling as he tries to figure out what to say next.

You: I have to admit tho, when I first got that message, I thought you’d sent something different than my own instagram post…🤭

His breath catches, heart skipping a beat. The implication is clear, and he feels himself growing hard at the mere thought of you expecting a more explicit photo from him. He shifts uncomfortably, typing out a teasing response.

Lando: So, you’re saying you opened it anyway, even though you thought I sent you a spicy picture? 😉

You: Shut up.

He laughs, imagining the flustered look on your face. It’s too easy to picture, and he leans back against his pillows, biting his lip.

Lando: Where are you?

You: In bed. Why?

Lando's breath got caught in his throat. A dangerous idea takes root in his mind, one that’s equally thrilling and terrifying. He knows he should stop, should draw the line before it goes too far. But something in your responses, the playful edge, the hint of curiosity, makes him want to push further.

Lando: Just curious. 😉

His mind races, and before he can second-guess himself, he snaps a quick photo. It’s not much,—just him lying back on his bed, shirt unbuttoned halfway, his abs on display and his hair a mess. He was still wearing the same outfit as yesterday, apparently not changed out of it. But there’s something undeniably suggestive in the way he looks at the camera, the flush on his cheeks, a knowing smile on his lips as he sends it with a caption.

Lando: I can send you one for real if you want to see one.

His heart hammers in his chest as he waits for your response, the seconds dragging by agonizingly slowly. Then your reply comes in, teasing and playful.

You: Kinda daring coming from the guy who was apologizing 10 minutes ago for accidentally sending his best friend a text about thinking about her with his hand down his pants😉

Your words send a thrill through him, the boldness of it, the way you’re not backing down. He can’t resist pushing a little further, fingers trembling with anticipation.

Lando: You didn’t seem too disgusted by it.

The moment stretches out, his breath catching as he waits for your reply. The tightness in his dress pants becoming significantly worde.

When it comes, it’s more than he expected. 

You: I wasn’t. Actually, it was kinda hot.🫣

His eyes widen, arousal spiking as he reads your words again and again, disbelieving. Is this really happening? 

Lando: Yeah?

You: Yeah.

He swallows hard, a wicked idea forming in his mind. He glances down at the growing bulge in his pants, his arousal straining against the fabric. His hand moves almost on its own, snapping a quick picture of his hand palming himself through his dress pants, the outline of his erection unmistakable.

Lando: What about this? Still hot?

Your response is almost immediate.

You: Fuck, yes.

The words send a shiver down his spine, desire flaring as he imagines your reaction, the way you must be looking at your phone. He wants more, needs more.

Lando: Your turn.

There’s a pause, then a photo comes through. His breath hitches at the sight of you, flushed and flustered, the soft curve of your cleavage visible just above the red lace of your bra. It wasn't too naughty, but enough to send Lando reeling. 

He groans, his hand moving down to rub himself through his pants, a low moan escaping him as he imagines what’s beneath that thin fabric.

Lando: Fuck, babe, you’re killing me.

You: Good.

The playfulness in your response only fuels his desire, and he knows he should stop, should take a breath before this spirals out of control. But he doesn’t want to. Instead, he hits record on his camera, aiming it down at his crotch as he begins to palm himself through the fabric.

The video is short, just a few seconds of him rubbing himself, a low groan slipping from his lips. He ends it with a whispered “fuck,” his hand slipping beneath the waistband of his pants to give himself a teasing stroke before the video cuts off.

He sends it without thinking, heart racing as he imagines you watching it, the way your breath might hitch, the way you might bite your lip.

You: You’re really enjoying that, huh?

His breath hitched at your words, every sensation heightened as he slowly works himself up and down inside his dress pants, unable to contain the soft groans leaving his lips.

Lando: I do. Feels amazing... I wish you were here with me.

His hand is shaking now as he types out his next message, his arousal growing with every word.

Lando: Show me more.

There’s a beat of silence, and then another picture comes through. This one is more daring, more revealing. You’re under the blankets, one leg exposed, the other hidden beneath the covers. The waistband of your red panties is just visible above the edge of your blanket, your hand resting suggestively on your lower stomach, fingers reaching just into your panties.

Lando: Fuck, babe, that's so hot

Lando's breath catches as he stares at the photo you sent, his mind racing with all the things he wants to say, all the things he wants to do. He decided to take the leap and press the button to send you a facetime request. You accept it almost immediately, his heart pounding as your face fills the screen. You look flustered, lips slightly parted, and he swallows hard.

“Hi,” you say, your voice breathless, almost shy.

“You’re really fucking beautiful, you know that?” Lando murmurs, his voice thick with desire as he admired your flushed face.

You blush, your eyes darting away from the screen for a moment before you look back at him. “I think you’re the one who’s supposed to be embarrassed right now, not me.”

He grins, the playful tone of your voice sending another jolt of arousal through him. “Oh, trust me, I’m plenty embarrassed. But I’m also…” He hesitates, his gaze dropping down for a moment before he meets your eyes again, his voice dropping to a lower, huskier tone. “... really turned on.”

Your breath catches, and he watches as you shift on the bed, the movement causing the camera to reveal a little bit more of your cleavage and the red lace bra you were wearing. His eyes are drawn to the exposed skin, mesmerized by your body.

“What are you wearing?” The question slips out before he can stop it, his eyes dark with desire.

You glance down at yourself, then back at him, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “Not much.”

He groans, his hand tightening around his phone. As he speaks, his other hand drifts back down, brushing over the ever-growing bulge in his pants again. “Can I see?” The words are thick with anticipation, his voice trembling slightly as he palms himself, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure through him. He bites his lip, letting out a quiet moan that he can’t quite suppress.

You hesitate, your teeth worrying your bottom lip as you consider his request. Then, slowly, you change your camera angle and pull the blanket down just a little, revealing the soft skin of your stomach, the red lace of your panties, the soft curve of your thigh. Lando feels a jolt of arousal shooting through him, and he has to bite back a groan. It’s just enough to tease, to make him want more. 

“Fuck, Y/N…” His voice is rough, strained, as he shifts on the bed, the fabric of his pants suddenly feeling too tight, too restrictive. His hand presses harder against his length, his breath hitching as the friction sends sparks of pleasure shooting through him.

You giggle, your eyes sparkling with a mix of nervousness and excitement. “You like what you see?”

“Like?” He shakes his head, his eyes glued to the screen. “I fucking love it.”

Your cheeks flush a deeper red, and you lean back a little, giving him an even better view of your body. His mouth goes dry as he takes in the sight of you, the way the red lace clings to your skin, the hint of cleavage peeking out from beneath your bra. He can see the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, the anticipation, the arousal clear in your eyes.

“Your turn,” you murmur, your voice barely more than a whisper, but it’s enough to send his heart racing.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. With one hand still holding his phone, he shifts back on the bed, his other hand moving to the waistband of his pants. His fingers fumble with the button, his hands shaking slightly as he pops it open, his eyes never leaving your face.

Your breath hitches as he unzips his pants, his erection straining against the fabric of his boxers. He pauses for a moment, his eyes flicking up to yours, seeking permission. When you nod, he slides his hand into his boxers, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale as he wraps his fingers around his length.

“Fuck…” The word slips out as he strokes himself slowly, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he forces them open again, needing to see your reaction. His voice trembles, laced with a mix of desire and restraint, each moan escaping his lips growing louder as he quickens his pace.

Your eyes are wide, your lips slightly parted as you watch him, your hand moving down towards your panties on their own accord, fingers brushing lightly over the fabric “Fuck, that's hot, Lando…”

He groans at the sound of his name on your lips, his boxers now pushed low enough to reveal his cock, hand moving faster, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through him. “Touch yourself for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “Please.”

You bite your lip, waiting just a moment before you slip your hand beneath the waistband of your panties, a soft gasp escaping you as your fingers make contact. The sight of you, the way your body arches slightly, the soft, breathless sounds you make, is almost too much for him.

“Fuck, babe, you’re so fucking hot…” His voice is barely more than a growl as he watches you, his own hand moving faster, the pleasure building inside him, threatening to spill over.

“What would you do to me if I was right there?” you ask, your voice a breathless whisper.

His eyes darken, his grip tightening around himself. “I’d start by kissing you, slowly… working my way down your body.” His voice is rough, each word laced with longing. “I’d touch you everywhere, make you feel so good. Then I’d…” his words getting cut off by his own moan.

“Tell me,” you encourage, your own voice trembling with need.

“I’d bury my face between your legs, make you scream my name,” he groans, his strokes becoming more erratic as he imagines it, his mind filled with nothing but thoughts of you. “F-Fuck, I want you so bad.”

You moan at his words, your fingers moving faster as you picture it, your body aching for his touch. “Lando, I…”

“Keep going,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire. “Tell me what you’d do to me.”

“I’d touch you,” you breathe, your voice trembling as your fingers move in sync with his. “I’d wrap my fingers around you, just like you’re doing now… make you feel so good, Lan”

He whimpers at your words, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he imagines it, the sensation of your touch almost too real. “Fuck, Y/N, I need you…”

“Imagine it’s my hand, Lan” you whisper, your voice laced with seduction. “Imagine I’m right there with you…”

His moans grow louder, his hips bucking into his hand as he follows your words, his mind filled with nothing but thoughts of you. “I’m so close…”

“Me too,” you whisper, your breath hitching as you feel the pleasure building, your body trembling with anticipation.

“God, you’re amazing,” he pants, his voice filled with praise as he watches you, every movement driving him closer to the edge. “You’re so perfect… I want you so bad…”

Your voice is a breathless moan as you reach the brink, your body arching off the bed as the pleasure consumes you "F-Fuck, Lan, I'm coming"

“Fuck, baby, I’m right there with you…” His voice is ragged, his body tensing as he teeters on the edge, every muscle tightening in anticipation. You watch, breathless, as his hand moves faster, more desperately, his grip tightening around his length.

Then, with a strangled moan, he tips over the edge. His hips jerk, and his head falls back against the pillows as he cums, thick ropes of it spilling out and covering his abdomen. You can see the way his abs contract with each pulse, his hand still working himself through every last wave of pleasure, milking himself until he’s spent. His eyes remain locked on yours, his breathing heavy, a mixture of satisfaction and lingering desire in his gaze as you both ride the waves of your shared climax.

For a few moments, the only sound is your ragged breathing, both of you staring at each other through the screen, the intensity of what just happened hanging heavy in the air.

“Fuck…” He laughs breathlessly, his head falling back against the pillows as he runs a hand through his hair. “That was…”

“Amazing,” you finish for him, your own laughter bubbling up, your cheeks still flushed, your body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks. “Holy shit, Lando…”

“Yeah.” He grins, his heart still racing as he looks at you, the reality of what you just did slowly sinking in. “Are you… okay?”

You nod, your smile softening as you look at him. “Yeah, I’m okay. More than okay.”

His heart swells at your words, relief flooding through him. He’s about to say something else when you shift on the bed, the blanket slipping down a little further, giving him a glimpse of your bare shoulder.

“Lando,” you murmur, your eyes meeting his through the screen, a mischievous glint in your gaze. “If that was just a taste, I can’t wait to see what happens when we’re see each other again.”

The promise in your words sends a shiver down his spine, his mind racing at the thought of having you, really having you, right in front of him. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you have no idea what you’re doing to me…” His voice is a low whisper, his eyes still dark with desire.

“Maybe I have an idea,” you tease, your smile widening as you settle back against the pillows, your gaze never leaving his. “When I fly back to Monaco in a few days, maybe you should pick me up from the airport... and then we can do this again, but then in real life”

His heart skips a beat at your words, excitement and anticipation flooding through him. “You mean that?”

You nod, your smile softening, your eyes filled with a tenderness that makes his chest ache. “Yeah, I mean that. I want you, Lando. All of you.”

His breath catches, the sincerity in your voice, the way you’re looking at him, making his heart race. He knows, in that moment, that this isn’t just about sex, about fulfilling a desire that’s been simmering beneath the surface for years. It’s about more, so much more.

“Y/N… there’s something else I need to tell you,” he says, his voice steady but laced with emotion.

Your gaze softens, sensing the seriousness in his tone. “What is it, Lando?”

He hesitates for just a moment, gathering his thoughts before he continues. “I’ve been in love with you for so long. It’s not just about my text last night or about what we just did. I've been feeling like this for a while. It’s everything. Every time we’ve laughed together, every time you’ve supported me, every time I’ve seen you smile... I’ve been falling for you more and more.”

You feel your heart swell at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. Finally ready to admit it out loud. “Lando... I’ve felt the same way. I’ve just been too scared to admit it.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, relief washing over him. “You have no idea how happy that makes me. I’ve wanted to say something for so long, but I was afraid I’d ruin what we have.”

“You haven’t ruined anything,” you say softly. “If anything, you’ve made it better.”

A wide smile spreads across his face, his eyes shining with emotion. “I’ve never been so thankful for getting drunk.”

You laugh, the sound light and filled with joy. “Me neither, Lando. Me neither.”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence, both of you just taking in the reality of what’s been confessed.

“So… when I fly back to Monaco in a few days, maybe we could start something real?” you suggest, your voice hopeful.

“I’d like that,” he replies, his heart swelling with happiness. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Then it’s a plan,” you say, a smile tugging at your lips.

"God, I wish I could kiss you now" he whispered, a small hint of disappointment in his voice.

And with that, you both know that this is just the beginning of something truly special, something that’s been waiting to happen for far too long.

Masterlist

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : OFF SCRIPT : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Hugh Jackman x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None! Mentions of (Y/N)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: You star with Hugh Jackman in a steamy movie, but the lines between acting and reality blur when Hugh starts developing real feelings for you. After confessing his jealousy and attraction, you realize you feel the same, and the two of you go off-script to explore a genuine connection.

Based on this request.

THE MOVIE SET WAS BUZZING WITH EXCITEMENT, lights flickering, cameras rolling, and the tension in the air palpable. You’d landed the lead role in an upcoming erotic thriller—a bold career move that had sparked more than a few raised eyebrows. However, what really set tongues wagging was your co-star.

Hugh Jackman. The Wolverine. The greatest showman himself.

To say you were nervous was an understatement. At 55, Hugh was a global icon, still radiating that rugged charm and magnetic energy that made audiences swoon. You, on the other hand, were in your early thirties, on the rise, and wondering how on earth you’d ended up in a movie where you’d have to—well, you know—get intimate with Hugh Jackman.

The director had wasted no time throwing the two of you into the deep end. The first few scenes together? Explosive chemistry. And Hugh, ever the professional, made it feel so natural, even though you both spent half the day either semi-naked or in bed, pretending to tear each other’s clothes off.

~🎬~

"Alright, everyone, places!" The director clapped his hands, signaling the next shot.

You glanced at Hugh, who was casually leaning against a prop desk, shirtless. He caught your gaze, and for a moment, you thought you saw something in his eyes. Something that wasn’t just acting. You brushed it off as nerves.

"Let’s do this," you muttered to yourself, adjusting the strap of your robe, which you’d soon be dropping.

Hugh approached you, flashing that million-dollar grin. "You ready for this?"

"As ready as I’ll ever be," you replied with a nervous laugh. "I’m still not sure how you can do this with such confidence."

He chuckled, voice low and warm. "Years of experience, love. Just remember, it’s all choreography. We’re professionals."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Right. Professionals. Naked professionals."

Before he could respond, the director’s voice boomed again, "And…action!"

The scene called for you to push Hugh up against the wall, all passion and heat, and for the next few minutes, that’s exactly what you did. Your bodies pressed together, lips inches apart, the camera capturing every bead of sweat, every intense breath. But between takes, there was something more—an almost imperceptible softness in Hugh’s touch, a lingering glance when the director called cut.

~🎬~

Later that day, you found yourself in another steamy scene—but this time, not with Hugh.

Jake, one of the other actors, had been cast as a secondary love interest, and while your chemistry with him was nowhere near as electric, it was enough to sell the scene. You were mid-take, kissing Jake on a couch when you noticed Hugh watching from behind the camera. He was supposed to be off set for this, but there he was, arms crossed, a small frown on his face.

"Cut!" The director called. "That was good, but I need more passion, (Y/N). Really go for it."

You tried again, but the second your lips met Jake’s, you caught Hugh’s expression in your peripheral vision. Was he…jealous?

The next take was even worse. Your brain refused to cooperate, replaying the image of Hugh standing there, looking like he was about to burst through the set like Wolverine in a rage.

Finally, the director let you both off the hook and called for a break. As you got up, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you felt a presence behind you. Hugh.

"Bit of a rough take, huh?" he said, his voice low, but his eyes held a teasing glint.

You spun to face him. "Were you watching?"

"Yeah, well…" He shrugged, trying to look casual. "It’s hard not to when…you know…" He gestured vaguely at Jake. "You’re out there, doing that."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Doing what, Hugh?"

His lips twitched into a smirk, but he quickly suppressed it. "Nothing. Just… I mean, does it have to be so steamy?"

"Uh, yeah, it’s in the script," you teased back, crossing your arms. "Are you getting jealous?"

"What?" He let out a laugh that sounded way too forced. "Me? Jealous? Ridiculous!"

You stepped closer, eyes glinting with mischief. "Sounds like jealousy to me, Jackman."

"Okay, fine, maybe a little," he admitted, running a hand through his hair, that charming grin back on his face. "I mean, I get it. I know it’s acting, but…you know, it’s weird seeing you kiss someone else. Especially when we’ve, uh, done…everything but that."

You felt a blush creep up your neck, remembering your more intimate scenes with him. "Hugh, you do realize that we’re supposed to be acting professionals, right?"

He sighed, his smile turning softer. "Yeah, but sometimes, things get a little blurry. At least for me."

You blinked, caught off guard. "Wait… are you saying you…?"

"I’m saying I might’ve caught feelings for you somewhere between take seven of that bedroom scene and the moment you pushed me up against that wall," he confessed, his voice serious now.

Your heart did a weird flip in your chest. This was not in the script. "Hugh, I—"

"Look, I know there’s an age gap, and this is all very unprofessional, but…" He ran his hand over his face, clearly frustrated with himself. "I don’t know, (Y/N). It’s been getting harder to separate what’s real and what’s not."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the director called everyone back to set before you could get a word in.

~🎬~

The rest of the day was a blur, Hugh’s confession playing on a loop in your mind. By the time you wrapped for the day, you found him sitting in one of the trailers, staring at his phone, clearly deep in thought.

You knocked softly on the doorframe. "Hey."

He looked up, his face softening as soon as he saw you. "Hey."

You stepped inside, closing the door behind you. "So…about earlier."

He stood up, his hands slipping into his pockets, suddenly looking far less like the confident actor you knew. "Yeah, about that…"

"Was that you going off-script?" you teased, though your heart was racing.

He chuckled, but his eyes stayed serious. "Something like that."

You took a deep breath. "Well, for the record…I think I’ve been blurring the lines, too."

His eyes widened in surprise. "You have?"

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up. "Yeah. I mean, how could I not? You’re Hugh freakin’ Jackman."

He let out a real laugh this time, the tension in the room breaking. "And you’re (Y/N) freakin’ (L/N)."

You smiled, taking a step closer. "So, what do we do now?"

He shrugged, stepping toward you as well. "Well, there’s no script for this part. I say we improvise."

With that, Hugh closed the gap between you, pulling you into a soft, lingering kiss—one that felt far more real than anything the cameras had captured all day.

And for once, it wasn’t acting.

🏷️: @oatmilkriver @khxna @haytchee @corvusmorte @shybluebirdninja @chronicallybubbly @evasmlp @lex-the-flex

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know!!

[little-diable]

Crimson River - Tyler Owens (smut)

This came to me while overthinking a situation I'm currently stuck in lol. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader and Tyler have been chatting online for months, and now it's time for them to finally meet in real life. Porn with some plot

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, some spitting, full on fluff

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (2.5k words)

“So, when will I get to share these songs with you face to face?” Her thumbs were hovering over her keyboard, eyes flickering from his text to her calendar. (Y/n)’s heart was pounding, beating in her chest while her teeth tugged on her lower lip.

It could be easy, too easy almost. 

“How’s the weekend looking for you, you busy tornado wrangler?” Heat shot to her cheeks, leaving her to burn up while putting down her phone. This was crazy, and yet she couldn’t find it in herself to back down, not when she could finally meet him.

Him, the guy she had been texting for months now.

Him, the guy she had first bonded over music with, sharing a similar taste. 

Him, the guy whose every storm chasing stream she had watched ever since he had shared more about himself with her. 

“If it means I get to see you, I’ll hold it free, sweetheart.” A chuckle broke out of her. (Y/n) deeply exhaled before shaking her head at her screen. This was crazy, but the best kind of crazy, something she desperately needed to rip herself out of her daily routine. 

“Count me in, I’ll book my flights now.”

……

Her thoughts were racing, just like her heart. (Y/n) moved with the big crowd, knowing that she was about to step out into the arrivals hall, where he was already waiting for her. She was unable to shake the heat sticking to her, still not fully realising that she was about to cross paths with the man she had been in touch with for months without ever meeting him. 

And then she instantly saw him, eyes drawn to him like a moth to a flame, a gravitational field that left her buzzing in excitement. His strong arms found their way around her, pressing (y/n) against him while she sank into the hug. 

“I can’t believe you’re finally here.” With a kiss pressed to her temple, Tyler let go of her to reach for her bag. She could only smile up at him, taking in the handsome face she had seen on her screen too many times to count.

“Thank you for picking me up.” (Y/n) tried to rip her gaze from him, eyes set on the crowd he directed her through with one hand placed on her lower back. Her mind picked apart every little detail, their height difference, the scent of his cologne she’d probably never forget again, the way his warm hand felt pressed against her back. All of it left her buzzing, tingling in excitement. 

Only as she found herself sitting in his truck did she allow herself to relax and breathe. Tyler had instantly managed to lure her into a conversation, making her feel as if they had met up numerous times before today. And yet (y/n) still struggled to realise that this was really happening, that she was so close to the handsome man she had fostered a crush on for quite some time now. 

“I thought tonight we could go for something slow, maybe watch a movie? And tomorrow you’ll get to meet the crew.” He shot her one of his signature smiles, hand finding her thigh for a second. The touch felt intimate, shooting heat straight to the spot while her mind hyper fixated on the way electricity kept pushing through her as if lighting kept hitting her over and over again. 

“That sounds perfect, thank you.” She could already tell that a weekend was not nearly enough, parting again would hurt more than she could even imagine at that very moment. 

……

The screen of his TV kept flickering on, casting shadows in the spacey living room. It had been a while since they had arrived at his place. Both had opted for some downtime first before they’d get to cooking and sharing a meal. Even though she was slowly adjusting to being around Tyler, it still felt somewhat surreal, like a dream she’d be ripped from too soon.

“Hey, are you okay?” She had her feet pressed against his thigh, eyes flickering to them as Tyler softly squeezed her skin. The touch made her sink further into the couch, hoping that the way he made her feel wasn’t all that obvious to Tyler. But the smirk slowly tugging on his lips told her that he was all too aware of the way she struggled to hold it together, unable to speak much. 

Only a hum broke through (y/n), a sound that turned into a quiet gasp the second he tugged on her feet to place her legs over his thighs. One of his hands found space between her knees, grabbing her flesh while the other settled on top. 

How in God's name was she supposed to survive this? 

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” Tyler stopped the movie without taking his eyes off her features. She couldn’t help but wonder how he was already able to read her that well, how he managed to pick up on micro expressions even her closest friends would most likely miss. 

“It’s just surreal, all of this, finally talking to you and being close to you. I knew we’d get along well, but,” the rest of her sentence was lost in the quietness of the room. Tyler’s thumb stroked along the fabric of her trousers, patiently watching her.

“But this is different.” He finally managed to finish her sentence, unable to bite down the smile both couldn’t shake now. “I know what you mean, I was hoping it’d work that well like it does when we text, but this is so much better.” 

Another hum left (y/n), she pulled her legs from his grasp to shift around, finding confidence in the way he had just expressed what she had also been feeling. Slowly, carefully almost, (y/n) placed her head against his chest, instantly pulled closer by the arm finding its way around her. Tyler pressed a kiss to her hairline before he started the movie again, unable to see the bright smile she now wore, perfectly matching his.

……

(Y/n)’s legs were dangling off the kitchen counter, eyes following Tyler around as he cooked for them. Music was filling the kitchen, playing a playlist both had crafted over the past months, their own personal blend. Ever since their moment on the couch, both had been unable to shake their smiles, hearts racing in sync. 

“Here, do you like that?” Tyler found himself settling between her thighs, looking at her while pushing the spoon past her parted lips. The moment had something awfully intimate to it, pushing heat through both of them. (Y/n) could only nod her head, not noticing how her legs had loosely found their way around his thighs, keeping him close.

Tyler’s thumb found her mouth, brushing away a bit of sauce clinging to her skin, a touch that made her breath hitch in her chest. She kept looking at him, getting lost in the piercing eyes that had seen more tragic glimpses of this life than (y/n) could ever imagine, and yet they were filled with a burning longing. 

For a few more seconds they kept holding eye contact, torn apart by his phone timer going off. Tyler had to clear his throat before he could focus on finishing dinner, trying not to pay her intense gaze any of his attention. He knew all too well that he was close to snapping, close to crossing the last line between them to press his lips against hers.

But as much as Tyler wanted to kiss her, to taste her like he had done numerous times in his dreams, he knew that he should take things slow. He didn’t want to push things too far on their first night together, all Tyler was focused on was seeing her comfortable and happy.

“We could eat outside if you want, stars should be out by now.” Her heart was close to jumping out of her chest, freed by the heat his words made her feel. Months ago he had shared a picture of the starry sky he was fortunate enough to look at whenever he was home, a sight that had left her to confess that she desperately wanted to see them too.  

“Thank you, Tyler.” (Y/n)’s words carried more meaning than he picked up on, not seeing through the adoration swimming in her pupils. 

……

“Tyler.” (Y/n) mumbled his name, eyes set on his features. They were still sitting on the bench outside his home, sharing a blanket to keep them shielded from the cold night. His eyes flickered down to meet hers, patiently waiting for her to keep on speaking. “Will you finally kiss me?”

Her words drew a loud laugh from him, he shook his head at (y/n) who could only grin up at him. Tyler’s hand found her cheek, wordlessly asking her to keep on looking at him while his eyes wandered over her features, “And here I was trying to be a gentleman.”

(Y/n)’s reply was lost on the tip of her tongue as he dipped his head down. Tyler’s lips ghosted over her’s, drawing a soft whine out of (y/n) as he kept a small distance between them. Only as her hand found his jacket, tugging on the fabric to pull him closer, did he properly kiss her. 

The kiss shot shudders down her spine, making hairs rise on her forearms while shuffling closer. Within moments she found herself straddling his lap, front pressed against his to cross any distance still lingering between them like two lonely ships crossing the sea to find back to one another, guided by nothing but their need to be close. 

Their lips moved perfectly together, the kiss wasn't rushed, but it was fuelled by their longing which had grown stronger over the past months. Tyler’s hands settled on her waist, fingers toying with the hemline of her sweater, set on feeling her warm skin pressed against his. For a moment they broke apart, grasping onto new air to fill their burning lungs. 

“Stop me anytime you want, sweetheart.” (Y/n) searched his lips again, not giving Tyler a chance to speak another word while his hands found her burning up skin. Her wandering fingers found his hairs, brushing through them to draw a moan from Tyler, a sound that vibrated on her lips and through her whole body. 

He didn’t speak a warning as he suddenly stood up, holding onto (y/n) to carry her back inside. With her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs around his waist, she let him carry her inside and towards his bedroom. Both were heavily breathing after pulling apart, chests rising and falling while chuckles broke out of them.

(Y/n) let him pull her sweater over her head, exposing her bra to his wandering eyes. The groan rumbling through Tyler made her grin, letting her hands reach for his belt loops to pull him closer, expertedly undoing his belt, “I know we should take this slow, but I really need you to fuck me now after all these months.”

“You’re killing me, sweetheart.” Their eyes held contact as she freed his hardening cock, letting his trousers drop to the ground. Tyler’s moans spurred her on, allowing her to marvel at the handsome man while pumping his length a few times. But Tyler didn’t have the patience to drag this out long enough, he gave her a push back, tugged her trousers and panties down her legs while (y/n) undid her bra. “You’re the prettiest sight, fuck, I’m the luckiest man.”

“Says you, I mean look at you.” She could only stare at him as the rest of his clothing was dropped, exposing his abs and his muscular chest – all while his fingers began to wander up her legs. He pressed kisses to her soft skin, sucking on her flesh as his fingertips ghosted over her warm folds, feeling her arousal already sticking to her skin. 

Tyler kept his gaze on her features as he spat down on her heat, spreading his saliva on her warm skin. He circled her pulsing bundle a few times to draw soft moans from (y/n), needing to hear them as if they were his favourite drug, high on her sounds. For a second, he parted from her to find a condom, to roll it down his cock, and to brush his tip through her folds. 

“Look at me, sweetheart.” (Y/n) looked up at Tyler, feeling herself getting choked up from the way he looked at her. Something she’d only be able to describe as love swam in his pupils – a love so intense it only grew stronger as he pushed into her. Her eyes instantly fluttered shut at the sensation, fingernails scratching at his skin, walls fluttering around him. Tyler held still for a second, giving her time to adjust before he dipped his head down to kiss her.

Their bodies met with every thrust, allowing (y/n) to feel him deep inside of her, stretching her with every move. With every contact even more sinful sounds began to claw through them, reverberating through his bedroom like a song woven together from shared experiences and unspoken longings. 

“You feel so good, fuck, Tyler.” Her words left him chuckling, he kissed his way down her throat, finding the spots that made her arch her back while she tightened the grasp of her legs around his waist. Tyler was fully focused on making her cum first, needing to watch her fall over the edge while knowing that he was the reason for the sweet sensation she was about to get tangled up in. 

“Touch yourself, sweetheart, make yourself cum on my cock.” Tyler’s voice grew raspier and lower with every syllable he spoke. Both were staring at one another, wordlessly telling them that they were ready to let go any moment now. Her fingers moved fast, giving herself the needed push with his name bleeding from her lips.

Tyler found himself falling in love with (y/n) some more as she came, eyes taking in every inch of her pleasure drunken features. He gave it a few more thrusts before he came, letting go with a groan while (y/n) kept clinging to him. 

“Christ, you’re perfect.” He pressed another kiss to her lips before pulling out. And at that moment, Tyler knew that he’d have to confess his feelings soon. Not tonight, perhaps not tomorrow morning, but the love bleeding from the tip of his tongue like a crimson river would pave the way for their following time together soon enough.

[yuuuhiii]

⌗ ﹙✿﹚ it all started with a kiss ⠀︵⠀⠀⊹⠀

includes : 9.2k words, jock!yuuji x reader, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, angst, smut so minors dni!, cursing, mutual pining, Yuuji is LOVEsick

a/n : This took a while for me to finish but I really hope you guys love it!!

Chatter is heard amongst the outdoors. The wind softly rustled the trees and grass. Your friends are in the cafeteria, confused about where you could have gone.

You're behind the school, where it’s a little dark, a little hidden, and quiet. However, you weren’t alone, a certain pink-haired boy had accompanied you. Why may you ask?

It all started with a reunion with your old childhood friend. Yuuji Itadori was your next-door neighbor. You both grew up together and were always stuck to the hip until middle school.

He had moved and even though both of you had went to the same school. You guys gradually faded away from each other's life. Busying yourself with your guy's own friendships and school.

That was until your freshman year when your mom invited him and his family for the holidays. Like anyone, it was awkward at first. Simple greetings and sheepish nods. When you got bored, you noticed he was too, so you invited him to your room.

You both were sitting on your bed. You crisscrossed as Yuuji was splayed out on his back. Finally breaking the ice, you both fell into a comfortable conversation. Reminiscing about events from your guy's childhood. Then it somehow led to your “love” life.

“I mean can we even call that a relationship?” He laughed, turning to look at you as you laughed along with him. Without much thought, he spoke his mind.

“So how was your first kiss?” He gazes up at you, his puppy eyes looking so full and curious. You smile, pulling your legs to your chest.

“I haven’t had it yet.” You giggle and he sits up.

“Hey! Me neither!” He points at himself, a laugh leaving him.

Silence fills your room but it’s in no way awkward. Until Yuuji’s words have your eyes widening.

“Would you wanna kiss me?” Your head snaps towards him and you’re flushing even more at the look he is giving you.

He wasn’t even fazed; his eyes were full of sincerity. However, your silence makes him backtrack.

“Sorry. That was probably weird huh?” He airily laughs, rubbing his neck. You blink, shoving your nervousness away, you speak up.

“Are you fine with me being your first kiss?” His eyes meet yours again, that same intense honest gaze. He nods his head with a small smile.

It honestly bothers you that he doesn’t look fazed at all. Only because you knew you were a flushing mess. Unbeknownst to you, his heart was hammering against his chest. He scoots closer to you; he’s staring at your lips and you’re staring in his eyes. You both are leaning closer and closer, your eyes slowly shutting.

That is until you hear your door open, and you both are shooting away from each other. A huge flush on both of your faces.

“There you two are! Come downstairs!” Your mom says as you both scatter out of your room.

After that failed attempt of sharing your guys first kiss, you’ve noticed him more around school. His bright smile always directed towards you with an excited wave too. That night in your room hasn’t left Yuuji’s mind since then. So that led you to where you were right now. It seems Yuuji was more nervous than that night in your room.

“Are you sure you wanna kiss me?” You look away and he perks up, nodding happily like an excited puppy.

You step closer to him and his hands lift up awkwardly, not knowing where to rest them. You quickly grasp them and he softly gasps.

As his lips were parted you rose on your tippy toes, your lips lightly touching his. Your hand softly caresses his cheek, and he gains more confidence. Resting a hand on the small of your back, pulling you closer to him.

The kiss was deepened, and you can feel Yuuji smile in the kiss. By the time you both pull away your hands are resting on his chest and his hands on your waist. Your blush mirrors his and he’s so giddy.

“I’d say that was a good first kiss. Definitely worth it.” He quips, he almost looks dazed, his eyes are lidded and soft. Lovesick was the only way you could describe it. You shove his chest playfully and he smiles brightly.

“I’m not joking!” He laughed.

But just like that, things went just to how they were before. Small waves and stolen glances. It didn't affect you as much, I mean at some point, you did feel like maybe he only used you for a kiss.

Yuuji was attractive and was that stereotypical dream boy, so it’s not like he didn’t have girls lined up.

Highschool was done in the blink of an eye and you were in college, already transferring to your four year. Life was going on fast, new relationships and new friendships, endings to old friendships, it was a lot. Now you were moving into an apartment and were excited to meet your roommate. Nobara Kugisaki was her name.

“You’re the talk of the campus.” She says as she helps you with your boxes and you give her a look.

“What does that mean?”

“Well, it’s a little odd that you transferred in the middle of the year so.”

“No one's ever heard of a gap year?”

“Right? Anyways wanna go study at the library in a bit? I know you have to go check out your new job.” You hum in reply.

Your head falls against the table with a groan.

“Nobara I don’t think I can continue.” She slumps as well.

“Me neither.” She rests her head on the table as well. Suddenly she’s sitting up, shaking the life out of you.

“What! What!” You yell and she slaps a hand over your mouth, pointing to the entrance of the library.

A group of boys walk in, and you’re struck with major nostalgia. You knew that pink fluff of hair from anywhere.

“Those are the basketball players! Major players in a different game if you know what I mean.” Nobara tuts and you roll your eyes.

Yet your eyes still follow Yuuji. She begins naming all of them and that eases your mind, it really was him.

“I know him.” You say calmly and she’s snapping her head between you and the guys.

“Huh? Which? Which one.” You nod your head towards the group.

“Yuuji. We were close when we were little.” Nobara awes.

“We were each other’s first kiss.” Nobara pauses.

“What!” She yells, turning heads from people around you guys. The librarian shushing you both. You even catch the attention from some of the guys.

“You were each other’s first kiss?!” She whisper yells.

“Yea. Who would’ve guessed he’d be a heartbreaker though, I thought he was too sweet for that.”

Nobara leans in, eyes shooting side to side. “I heard he got his heart broken. Heartbroken becomes the breakee.” She raises her brows and you laugh.

“I guess that makes sense.”

Now from the moment Yuuji walked in and heard Nobara’s screech he had his eyes glued on to you. You looked stunning, as if just laying his eyes on you made him want to take a big breath of air. That’s what you were, a breath of fresh air.

He knew it was you, of course it was, he’d never be able to forget you. He's stealing glances the whole time, so he doesn’t hear his friends plan about throwing a huge party.

“You listen'n?” His friend questions and Yuuji shakes his head.

“Ah, my bad.” He mutters, stealing another glance. Two of his other friends follow his trail of sight, turning back with a smug grin on their faces.

“Oh? You already got eyes on the new transfer?” They wiggle their brows.

“I don’t blame you, she’s fucking hot.”

One of them says and Yuuji frowns at their comment. Look, obviously they were only speaking the truth but just the thought of one of them pursuing you didn’t sit right with him. Solely because he knew they wouldn’t treat you right.

Yea, definitely.

He perks up when you get up with Nobara, your laugh striking his ears. At the same moment he smiles at the sound, you turn around, only to lock eyes with him, causing both of your eyes to widen. You send him a small smile and he feels his thoughts melt away.

“Hello?! Yuuji!”

“Y-Yea what?”

“You better be at the party dude.”

“Mhm.”

Start of a new week and you’re already at your new job. It wasn’t bad or good, you’d just say mediocre. Some days rush hour was a pain in the ass and other days you swore you saw a tumbleweed pass by.

Today was a tumbleweed kind of day. You stand there with your chin in the palm of your hand. You could wipe down the tables, mop the floors, take out the trash but you had already done that.

Right when a sigh leaves you, the bell chimes, signaling customers. You quickly stand up straight, a fake smile on your face. It almost falters when you see who had entered.

It’s Yuuji!

But with a girl stuck to his side, her hands gripping his bicep. His eyes widen at the sight of you as well.

“You know what I want right Yuu Yuu? I’m gonna grab us a table.” The girl squeaks, walking over to a booth. You almost cringe at her voice but you try not to let it get to you.

“Hi! What can I get you started with today?” You say optimistically. Yuuji is frozen and you shift on your feet.

“Let me know when you ready.” You nod your head while he shakes his.

“S-Sorry! I’m ready.” He gulps and you smile, taking his order.

“Your order will be right out.” You slightly bow and he hums, hovering for just a bit.

He returns back to the girl he came with and she's immediately talking his ear off however his mind is somewhere else, specifically on you.

Once you finished, you put their drinks on a tray and walk over to their booth. When you reach their table, you set his drink on the table however the girl reaches for hers. When you let go, you’re surprised to see it fall and spill everywhere. The girl throws her hands up, a displeased look on her face.

“What the fuck is your problem!” She yells standing up quickly. From the napkins you brought you try to help her, but she shoos you away.

“Get the fuck away from me, is it really that hard to just serve a drink?” She snaps and you bite your tongue, your eye twitching.

Within a moment she’s standing up, pushing the doors open as she left. You sigh and Yuuji is sat there, blinking. You rush to go grab rags, coming back and quickly placing them on the ground.

“Let me help.” Yuuji gets on his knees, and you’re shocked to see he’s still here. He tried to grab the rag from you, but you snatch it back.

“It’s ok, I got it. You’re not gonna go after her?” You stare up at him and he shrugs.

“Not really a point, she just wants to fuck me.” You deadpan at his words, and he covers his mouth.

“Sorry, that’s weird.” He awkwardly laughs and you stand up. He gets up and stays next to you as you wipe down the table. He admires you, your hair in a messy clip, little makeup on your features.

You hand him his drink and his fingers grace yours when takes it. You take his breath away without even trying. He’s sure you don’t know the effect you have on him and he’s glad you didn’t.

“I’ll see you around.” You mumble, walking behind the counter.

“Wait!” He yells and you turn around. “Are you coming to the party everyone’s talking about?” You blink and are confused on what party he’s even talking about.

“No?” He quickly pouts, resulting that of a kicked puppy.

“Why?” He practically whines.

“I wasn’t invited. I don’t know?” You wipe down the other tables.

“Well, I’m inviting you, come by! Bring your friends it’ll be fun!” He smiles and you can’t say no.

“I’ll see, parties aren’t my thing.” Right before he leaves, he turns around, sending you the softest and most bashful smile.

“You haven’t changed a bit.” It catches you off guard, but he’s gone in a flash, leaving you to ponder over his words.

When you reach back to your dorm Nobara already knew all about it.

“We’re going.” She shrugs and you hesitate.

“I don’t know…I might just stay here.”

“Didn’t Yuuji invite you?” She looks up from her phone and your brows rise.

“How do you know?” You say slowly.

“He told me. He’s so annoying, he’s pathetic really. Please! Please tell her to come!” She mimics and you laugh.

“That’s weird though, I haven’t talked to him in years.” You sigh, sitting on the stool at your guy's counter.

“He probably wants to catch up, if you know what I mean.” She makes obnoxiously loud kissing noises, and you roll your eyes.

“You’re so annoying, I’m going to bed.” You groan and she hollers.

“We’re going tomorrow you grandma!”

You meant it when you said parties weren’t your thing. Loud blaring music, colorful lights flashing, with a side of horny college kids grinding on each other. It's only been two weeks since you've transferred, and you didn't think coming to a party was going to be on your schedule.

Nobara is dragging you through the crowds of people while you're trying to balance your (her) heels and pull down your (her) dress. You finally reach an area with a good group of people.

"Hi, you guys this is my roomate." Nobara lightly pushes you in front of her. You glance around and nod.

"Uh, Hi." Nobara snorts and pulls you towards this green haired girl.

"Maki, can you get us shots please." Maki grins, seemingly pouring shots for everyone. After a meaningless countdown, you down your first shot. This was going to be a long night.

From across the room Yuuji has a beer in his hand. His brown eyes servicing the area, looking for someone in particular. As he takes another swig, a girl appears in front of him. He looks down at her and takes her in.

She had pretty long hair, her tits were about to spill out of her dress and her lips were glimmering.

"You're Yuuji right?" He nods, blinking at her. She pushes herself up against him and his breath hitches. Her hand is running against his bicep all the way up till the nape of his neck.

"You never answer any of my texts." She pouts, inching closer to him. Yuuji gulps because he knows where this will lead. Right before he continues, he glances up and there you are glowing.

You're wearing a white dress and heels. It makes his heart skip a beat, the way the light illuminates your face and your flushed cheeks. God he can't pull his eyes away. That's until he recognizes a guy towering over you, making his blood rush, maybe it was some of the alcohol too. He doesn't say anything to the girl that's on him, he just lightly moves her to the side.

Hakari Kinji, he was Yuuji's rival. He was from their rival school basketball team, everyone knew about them, at least one fight would break out when they played against each other. His question is why he's here and why he's talking to you.

"You're gorgeous. I'm guessing you don't got a boyfriend right? 'Heard you just transferred." He eyes you down and you gulp.

You feel cornered against this wall, he's big too. Thick muscles and at least six feet. You stumble on your words until you hear someone else speak.

"I thought I told you; you weren't welcome here."

Your eyes light up when you see Yuuji, but he looks scary. You've never seen this look on his face before, the way he stares this guy down it gave you chills.

"Yuuji! I was invited so you can go and get shitfaced drunk, you know embarrass yourself while you're at it." He grins moving to turn around, but Yuuji speaks again.

"Where's Kirara? I thought you told them you weren't gonna cheat anymore?" Hakari grabs Yuuji by the collar of his shirt, making him smirk.

"Keep Kirara out of your fucking mouth." Yuuji shoves him off of him, he quickly grabs your hand.

"Then leave her alone." He storms away until he reaches the backyard.

He huffs when you guys reach outside. It's a cold night so you quickly try to cover yourself. Yuuji looks down, his eyes perking up.

"Oh!" He frantically looks around. He spots a towel on a chair, as he sees there's a couple of people in the pool, he takes it.

"Here." He gently puts it over you. You gaze down at the towel and laugh. He blushes and laughs along with you.

"I'm really happy you came. I've been looking for you." He gazes at you, a soft smile rising to his face.

“Why? We haven’t talked in so long.” You mutter and he laughs.

“I know! But uh, you know I missed you.” You look at him, blinking in confusion and he clears his throat.

“You got quite the reputation around here.” You smirk and he grins.

“I know right, I’m the ace of our team.” He flexes his bicep.

“No, you’re a whore.” You laugh and he drops his arm.

“Oh.” He pursed his lips. You lean on him as you laugh and he smiles.

“You know it’s not really true, my friends are more of the sluts.” He plays with his hands.

“Not really true?” You quirk a brow.

“Well, you know, just some girls here and there.” He blushes.

“You get shy like a virgin.” You scoff and he sputters.

“W-What are you talking about!” He rubs his face.

“Always seeking that feeling huh.” You playfully roll your eyes.

You shiver and he catches this. He rests an arm around you, making you tense up.

“Sorry! Is this weird?” You shake your head and he nods.

“We can go back inside.” He says but you shake your head again.

“It’s too loud.” You sigh and he nods.

“So how’ve things been for you.” Then he gasps, tearing himself away from you.

“Oh my god! You don’t have a boyfriend right?” He looks mortified.

“No I don’t.” You giggle.

He lets out a relieved sigh and rests his arm around you again. You rest your head on his shoulder and Yuuji doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. He hasn’t felt this way since the last time you kissed him. Could he only feel like this when he was with you?

You hear a loud gasp from behind you guys, making you both turn around to see the culprit.

It’s a very drunk Nobara.

“No way! Get your slimy hands off her!” Nobara waddles towards you, pulling you off of him.

“Hey—What!” Yuuji pouts, reaching for you.

“Leave her alone! I won’t let you taint her.” She shoves your face in her chest, making you groan.

“Nobara, you’re drunk. Let me take you guy's back home.” She immediately lets you go.

“Can we get pizza.” She smirks and Yuuji sighs.

“Yes, we can get pizza.”

“Hooray!” She yells, linking arms with you both and exiting the party.

You all are back at your dorm, stuffed full of pizza as Nobara crashes on the couch. You finished resting the blanket over her and sigh.

“You look tired you should get some sleep.” Yuuji stares at you with his doe eyes. You laugh which makes him blink.

“You know even though you got taller and have muscles now. You still have that same puppy face.” You smile brightly and he blushes.

“Is that a good thing?” He breathily laughs.

“Yea, it is.” You whisper.

You don’t know when, but you guys are in each other's personal space, glancing in each other's eyes. You begin to lean in, but he stops you, almost letting out a whine.

“Fuck. You know I want too so bad but your drunk.” He caresses your face, his thumb gliding along your bottom lip. He licks his lips but huffs, placing a peck on your forehead.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, ok?” He goes to grab his stuff.

“With what number?” You smile.

He blinks.

“Right.” He whispers more to himself, walking back towards you and typing in his number.

“Get some sleep okay?” You nod, waving bye as he does the same. What were you two going do with each other.

A week had gone by and neither of you had mentioned what happened on the night of the party.

There was no need to right?

Nothing actually happened.

Yet many people did notice Yuuji seemed to walk around with an even brighter smile on his face.

“Dude who’s got you smiling like that.” One of his friends laugh as Yuuji taps away at his phone texting you.

“Helloooo?”

“Hm? What?” Yuuji blinks staring at his friends.

“You talking to another girl?” He asks.

“Nah she’s just a friend.” Yuuji mutters, texting you again.

“Wait a minute isn’t that the transfer?” One of his friends gazed over his shoulder.

“Hey!” He glared at him.

The guy whistles. “She’s an eye candy. Hey Yuuji let me know if she feels good, wouldn’t mind handling her.” He laughs, his other friends slapping him.

Yuuji clenches his fist. “Don’t even fucking think about it, she wouldn’t go for a guy like you.” Yuuji stands up, storming away.

“So much for just a friend.” They laugh.

Yuuji frowns as he walks away, he decides to give you a call, he knew you’d be able to calm him down.

“Hey! You got any classes right now?” He asks, chewing on his lip. You reply with a no, and he asks if he could stop by.

Knocks on your door get you up and away from the couch.

“Hey! I brought snacks I didn’t know what you wanted so I just grabbed a bunch of stuff—” He stops when he takes in your appearance.

You’re wearing a baggy shirt that covers your sleep shorts, your hair in a messy clip and your bare face looking pretty as ever. He gulps.

“Uh.” He stumbles, he stares at your thighs and then your eyes, realizing what he’s doing he snaps out of it.

You blink, opening the door wider. His ears and neck are flushed when he steps in.

“You can set them on the counter.” You walk over to the couch.

“O-Ok.” He mumbles. He removes his shoes and makes his way to sit next to you on the couch. He’s quieter now and it has you stealing glances at him.

“You good?” You pry, trying to find a tv show to kill time.

“Y-Yea! Mhm.” He chews on his lip. You narrow your eyes at him.

“Spit it out.” You say and he turns towards you.

“What?” He blinks frantically at you. You eye him up and down.

“You’re being weird.” You cross your arms and he’s avoiding your eyes.

“No, I’m—not.” He pouts and you smile. You nod and he huffs like a little kid.

“You’re just really beautiful and you make me nervous and I wanna kiss you.” He blurts out. You both stare at each other with wide eyes.

“Fuck.” He stands up.

“Fuck. I’m sorry. I should go.” Your thoughts are rushing and all bleeding into one.

“Yuuji.” You say before he can actually leave. He freezes his back still facing you.

“Come back over here.” He turns around, head hung low as he sits next to you. You sigh and he winces.

“Look. I don’t mind kissing you. I mean I’ve already done it once. But we have to have a serious talk about this, okay?” He stares at you and nods his head.

“Of course.” He smiles and you roll your eyes, smiling as well.

As the tv plays in the background, you scoot towards him. You rest your legs over his lap. Yuuji gulps, letting out a gasp of air. His hand hesitantly rests on your thigh as yours rest on his neck. He’s hot to the touch, making you smile.

“I didn’t know I had such an effect on you.” You giggle and he groans.

“Be quiet—” He lets out a surprised noise when your lips smash against his own. His eyes immediately fall shut and his lips move along with yours.

As your tongues dance along with each other, discovering one another’s mouths. His hands are getting desperate, grabbing at your thighs, your ass, anything really. You smirk against his lips and he whines. Shutting him up with another wet kiss.

“Y-You should totally come to my game.” He says in between kisses, completely dumbfounded with the way you kiss him so sweetly.

You were like poison, maybe even a drug and he was hooked. You pull away and he chases your lips, he pouts when you don’t kiss him back.

“Your game?” He nods eagerly.

“It's this Friday. I’d love to see you in the stands. With you in my jersey.” He rubs comforting circles along your thigh.

“With your jersey huh?” He nods again.

“Wouldn’t mind stealing a couple good luck kisses either.” He smiles excitedly. You hum, tapping your finger along his cheek.

“What are we then Yuuji.” You a raise a brow and he sits up, holding you close in his lap.

“Whatever you want us to be.” He kisses your cheek down to your neck.

“Not the right answer.” He pulls away, pouting.

“I’m not gonna be just another girl on your roaster.” You look at him sternly.

“You won’t be! I-I wanna, or I’d like to see where things go with you. I wanna make you mine.”

You blush at his words. You weren’t against it, Yuuji has always been a nice guy all around. He’s kind and caring, maybe even a little for his own good but that’s what you liked most about him. No matter what he always had a good heart and never changed.

“Prove it then. Show me you want me.” You smile and he does too.

"I will. I promise I will." His eyes look so full of light, sincerity swimming in them. You snort, pushing him away by his forehead.

You had to beg Nobara to tag along with you to the game.

"This was not how I wanted to spend my Friday night." She sighs as the gym roars in cheers and chants.

"I heard there's gonna be a party for the teams win." You say as your eyes follow Yuuji.

He played so swiftly, making baskets with ease. You found it funny, he had his own line of fan girls. They'd all fawn over him when he'd lift his shirt showcasing his abs just to wipe off sweat from his forehead.

"They already know they're gonna win?" Nobara snorts.

"Well, I mean they're winning by a lot. It's forty to sixteen." You both look at the scoreboard and wince.

"Yikes, yea there's no coming back from that."

It's halftime and Yuuji comes running to the bleachers. Nobara shoos you away and you playfully roll your eyes.

"Hey." He says breathlessly. You hand him his waterbottle and a towel, helping him wipe down all the sweat.

"Hi." You laugh and he smiles happily. You swear you can see a tail wagging behind him.

"You see all those baskets I made? They were all for you." He winks, waiting for your praise.

"Really? I didn't know with the way you'd point and wink at me." You laugh and he pouts.

"Was that lame?" He genuinely ponders.

"You're such a dork. It's cute." You smile and he laughs.

He pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, pulling you into a kiss. It was supposed to be one, but he couldn't help himself, so he continuously kissed you.

"Yuuji." You mumble his name, and he sighs.

"Sorry, sorry. I can't help it." He caresses your face and you both smile.

For the rest of the half time, you guys are chatting up, when a girl sits next to Nobara.

"Are they dating?" Nobara side eyes the girl and continues to scroll on her phone.

"I haven't seen him in a while I didn't think he'd move on fast; he looks good." Nobara quirks a brow and finally decides to turn and see who was talking.

Her eyes widen.

"Yuko." She mumbles under her breath.

"Long time no see yea?" She smirks, her eyes running over your form.

"Why're you here?" Nobara grunts, a vein almost appearing on her forehead.

"Heard there was gonna be a party? Am I not welcome?" She pouts and Nobara rolls her eyes.

"No. You're not." She glares at her.

"You pain me, we were so close."

Nobara is growing hotter by the minute.

"Yea until you decided to cheat on Yuuji. Just get out of here and for the record he's moved on since you're apparently blind."

Yuko laughs, getting up. "We'll see about that." She whispers to herself.

Nobara clicks her tongue, watching as she recedes.

"What the fuck is she planning."

Yuuji had scored the winning point, well they were already winning but the last shot to seal the deal.

He doesn't even let his teammates cheer him on, he's running straight towards you. Kissing you with passion as he picks you up in his arms.

"I told you I'd win for you, I'm gonna shower real quick then we can head to the party."

Nobara had let you know she was going to go back to the dorm to get ready, so you waited by the locker room. A guy walks out with nothing, but a towel tied to him. You quickly look away and the guy laughs.

"Yuuji's in there, go say hi." You ignore him and Yuuji comes out at the exact same time. He scowls at the guy.

“Leave her alone.” He smiles right when sees you, his hand slips into the back pocket of your pants.

“Party time!” He cheers and you laugh.

When you guys arrive at the party he’s swept away (against his will) by his teammates. They wanted to celebrate since he shot the last winning basket. You immediately found Nobara and stook with her and Maki.

“So are you guys like dating?” Maki questions as she sips on her drink.

“Mm no, we’re talking. Things are going good so far, he’s always been sweet.” You smile, taking a sip of your drink but wincing at the taste. It was strong.

“Always?” She questions.

“Me and Yuuji go way back. We were next door neighbors.” Maki laughs but she meant well.

“That’s kinda cute.” Nobara laughs since Maki isn’t really one to call things cute.

Her smile fades when she sees who walks in through the doors. Yuko Ozawa. You don’t notice since you're chatting with Maki. But of course, the world hates Nobara and she walks right up to you guys.

“Hi you guys.” She’s smiles brightly. Such a gorgeous smile for such a two-faced person.

Maki glares at her.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” Nobara sighs and you look at her in confusion, only to find her already staring at you.

“Wow, you’re beautiful. I’d fall for you if I was Yuuji too.” She smirks and you tilt your head.

“You know…Yuuji?” You say hesitantly.

Listening to a girl about Yuuji’s experiences with him was not on your bucket list tonight.

“I’m his ex-girlfriend.” She holds out your hand and you stare at her as if she has two heads. She laughs as she puts her hand down.

“Why’re you still here?” Nobara narrows her eyes.

“I’m having such a fun time talking to…what’s your name?” You blink at her.

“Ugh whatever, you guys are boring.” She says as she steals your drink, chugs it, and walks away.

“She’s the one who broke Yuuji’s heart.” Nobara rubs her eyelids.

“That was a year ago though, he’s way happier now.” You hum lost in thought.

Speak of the devil, Yuuji comes stumbling towards you all.

“Pretty girl!” He throws his arms up, crushing you in a hug. He reeked of alcohol.

“Has Nobara been nice to you?” He smiles, leaning down to peck your lips.

“I’m always nice to her.” She scoffs and Yuuji laughs.

“Liar.” Nobara flips him off and he turns back to you.

“Are you having fun?” He carresses your cheek and you nod, your eyes distant.

“Good, I’m glad.” He leans down and kisses you again.

“I’m gonna use the restroom, can I sleep over?” He smiles charmingly and Nobara gags.

“Ew! No! I don’t wanna come back to you two fucking.” You blush and so does Yuuji.

“I-I’m just tired! I wanna sleep with her. W-Wait! Not like that! I mean—”

You peck his cheek.

“It’s fine, go pee and we’ll leave.” He hums at your words, kissing you with an exaggerated mwah and leaves.

As Yuuji walks to the restroom his heart soars. It honestly all feels like a dream to him. The both of you meeting once again and now he’s been given the chance to make you his. He has a dopey smile the whole time he’s in the restroom and out of it.

However, he hears a voice, one that he isn’t fond of like he used to be.

“Hey Yuu’.” He freezes in his tracks. His stomach drops and he turns around, his eye twitching.

It’s his ex-girlfriend, the girl he so confidently gave his heart to. Just for her to crush it into a million pieces. His breakup was harsh, he wasn’t himself for a year. He practically promised he’d never get so attached to a girl like that ever again.

Yet of course you came and changed that all for him. He was willing to give love one more chance if he knew it was with you. He gulps and she smiles.

“How’ve you been?” She says so sweetly, her words laced with venom. Yuuji turns around, powerwalking away but she grabs him.

“Yuu!” She weeps and Yuuji shuts his eyes closed.

“Listen to me please?” She stares up at him.

They’re glimmering but Yuuji knows they’re now dripping with malice intent. His breaths are short and uneven, he feels trapped within her grasp. Like a snake closing in on its prey.

“You know I never meant for any of this to happen. I wanted it to be you. I wanted us to work so bad.” Her lip jutters.

He places his hands on her shoulders to make space, staring at her with his aching eyes.

“Yuuji?” The both of them turn at the end of the hallway.

There you stand, with a confused look on your face, as the party lights flicker behind you. Yuko turns towards Yuuji, shoving her head in his neck and her hands gently on his head.

You sigh, turning around and leaving the scene. Leaving Yuuji to comprehend how bad this looks.

“You know me Yuuji, you’re the only one who knows me.” She caresses his face, and he breaks free from her grasp. His eyes are teary, and he runs a hand down his face.

“Don’t ever come back. Ever.” He runs a hand through his hair, leaving to go chase after you.

She grunts as he walks away, letting herself be consumed by the regret and guilt of her actions.

It seems Yuuji had forgotten about his car because he’s running all the way back to your apartment. It’s not like he could drive either way, he was intoxicated but that whole ordeal had really slapped some sense into him.

He’s panting in front of your door, frantically knocking. Nobara swings open the door with an unpleasant look.

“Oh, thank god, Nobara can I see—” She’s about to slam the door but Yuuji is quicker, holding out his hand.

“Please, I need to see her.”

Nobara grunts trying to push back but Yuuji is stronger. He makes it into the apartment and he's powerwalking to your room.

“Leave her alone!” She punches him and he winces. Since when did she know how to throw a good punch?

“C-Can we please talk.” He begs kneeling at your door and you huff from behind it. You crack open the door and Nobara gives you a look and you nod.

“I’m going with Maki.” She rolls her eyes.

The door closes and it’s only your small lamp that illuminates your faces. Yuuji is chewing at his lips, looking around your room. His jersey rested on your chair and you're in your pajamas.

“Say what you wanna say Yuuji.” You kick your feet, not glancing at him.

“It’s not what it looked like, I swear.” He pouts, your bed dipping when he sits next to you.

You pull yourself into a ball and he gets Deja vu. The first time he was in your room when you were both kids.

“Look Yuuji, if you’re not over her. I’m not gonna be your rebound.” You mumble against your knees. Yuuji swings towards you.

“No! No, you could never be. It's just, she caught me off guard. I didn’t think I’d see her again and just seeing her brought up all of the terrible feelings.” He looks at his lap, you glance at him and he’s messing with his hands.

“Exactly. If you’re not healed then—”

“It’s not that. I just really thought I’d never see her again. I told her to never come back. It’s like she always comes back when life is starting to genuinely feel good again you know?” He glances at you.

He moves your hair so he could see your face clearly, it’s a habit he’s grown to like.

“I don’t wanna dwell on her anymore, I’m over that and over her. I wanna be with you, only you.” He sighs.

You sigh as well, rubbing your eyes.

“I’m really tired Yuuji.” He nods.

“Shit you’re right I’m sorry.” He moves to stand up but you grab his hand.

“Stay.” You mumble and he blushes.

He takes off his shirt and his pants and shoes and you stare at him wide eyed. He halts and blinks at you.

“Um, I sleep like this. Let me put my—”

“Just get in bed Yuuji.”

“Right.” He shuts up.

He slips under your covers and at first, it’s a little awkward but then you rest yourself on his chest and his breath hitches. He’s frozen still and you smile.

“Your heart is beating really fast.” You drowsily say and he laughs lightly.

“S-Sorry.” He rests a hand behind his head and his other on your hip. He rubs soothing circles on your skin until he hears your soft breaths against his skin.

He smiles at your face, slowly and softly tracing your features. "I'd never hurt you. I promise." He whispers in your hair.

When you wake up, your flushed against Yuuji’s sturdy chest, his big arms wrapped around you securely. You move to turn around but he nuzzles his face into your hair.

“Mmm, five more minutes.” He grumbles, holding you tighter. You smile but of course all good things come to an end.

Nobara bursts through the door.

“Morning love birds!” She yells ripping open the curtains. You both groan and Yuuji pulls the covers over you both.

“Don’t wanna get up.” He mumbles and you smile.

“Let’s just stay in bed. Don’t wanna leave you.” He has you wrapped in his arms and legs like a koala.

Nobara scoffs, ripping the sheets off you both. Yuuji glares at her and the sun that shining bright down on him.

“Ugh, Nobara get out!” He whines and she grunts.

“This is my apartment! Go to yours!” He sucks his teeth, sitting up. He quickly holds his head.

“Shit, my head.” Your hand scratches his back and he lets out a gasp.

“You okay?” You mumble.

He turns to you and stares. Your hair is everywhere but you look so pretty. Your face is puffy but it makes your cheeks look bigger. He immediately smiles.

“God you’re so cute.” He leans down, prepping kisses on your face. You giggle and he wraps his arms around you.

Nobara sets a pill on your nightstand.

“Here, for your hangover. Im gonna go out to eat with everyone so if you wanna come get dressed.”

At the mention of food, Yuuji abruptly stands up. He wobbles a bit but downs the pill and starts putting on his pants.

“Let’s go eat yea? I’m hungry.” You nod and the three of you all leave.

After the talk you and Yuuji had you could feel your guys relationship was way stronger now. You were happy he was able to trust you with his feelings. That he was able to be vulnerable with you.

Today was the day, Yuuji was gonna pop the question finally. Time with you felt like years, even though it had only been a couple months. Yet Yuuji knew there was no reason to wait. He was sure about you the first night he promised you.

With a little help from Nobara and Megumi, they helped him set up a cute picnic. Your favorite flowers, favorite food, snacks. It was honestly a pretty view.

He has your eyes covered when he leads you to your small area. You gush over the scenery and he’s head over heels for your reaction.

“This is so cute Yuuji, I love it.” You shyly smile. He holds your hand gently as you both sit down.

“Not gonna lie Nobara and Megumi helped me a lot.” He laughs, rubbing his neck.

You peck his cheek and he gushes. Holding your face and he pecks you all over your face. He moves to lay down but stops.

“Oh! I-I almost forgot.” He sits up and pulls a box out of his pocket.

He seems nervous when he’s holding it, chewing at his lip. When he’s about to open it he drops it, scrambling to pick it up. You giggle and he flushes.

He pops it open and it’s an anklet with a Y, a small jewel heart next to it.

“Can I be your boyfriend?” He isn’t looking at you, his eyes are pointed at the ground and butterfly’s are flying in your stomach. Your hand reaches his cheek, making his eyes meet yours.

“Of course Yuuji.” You pull him in for a kiss and he places the box down again, deepening the kiss.

It’s a normal kiss but it’s long and sensual. All of your guys kisses were like this. Never rushed and quick. They’re meaningful and soft. Nothing has changed since the first time you guys kissed.

Your hands are on his chest and his are rested on your waist. When you both pull away, he gently rests your legs on his lap. He massages your calf as he clasps the anklet on your ankle.

“We’re matching!” He says as he pulls out a necklace that was hiding under his shirt. It’s your initial with a heart jewel next to it as well.

“You’re to cute.” You smile, pulling him into yet another kiss.

He gets lost in the kiss and with the way you kiss him. His hand is rubbing slowly on your thigh as you place your hand right below his jaw. He lets out a hum smiling into the kiss and pulling you closer till you’re on his lap. Your arms wrap around his neck and he sighs.

This is exactly where he wanted to be. In your arms and with your lips on his. Your makeout session goes on for quite awhile until the both of you pull away with puffy lips. Your lipgloss now all over his mouth.

“You practically ate my mouth.” You say as you help pack up the things. He gulps and laughs.

“I—can’t control myself around you.” He scratches at his cheek and he waits for you to grab the last of his things.

“I can’t either.” You say, pecking his cheek and walking to his car.

As Yuuji drives he lets you have aux and his thumb rubs at your thigh.

He’s so warm and your mind begins to trail off. Absentmindedly your thighs close and he looks at you.

“Sorry. Is that too far..?” He bites his lip but you shake your head.

“N-No! I’m just —thinking.” You nod and he smiles, giving your thigh a tight squeeze.

“Do you wanna come to my apartment?” He suggests and you hum.

When you both arrive, he sighs.

“Man I’m tired.” He pouts, resting on his couch and gestures for you to join him.

“All we did was makeout and you’re tired?” You laugh and his pout deepens.

“Hey! That takes a lot out of me y’know.” You snort.

“How?”

He’s about to answer but pauses then his face grows red.

“What?” You blink and he shakes his head.

“S’nothing.” He turns to turn on the tv and you narrow your eyes, scooting closer to him.

“Tell me.” You pry and he shakes his head. You peck his jaw and he swallows hard.

“Come on Yuuji, tell me.” You say with a little more whine in your tone.

“It’s just—I have to hold myself back.” He taps at his legs.

“How come?” You’re peppering kisses on his neck, his skin hot against your lips. He’s gonna go fucking insane.

“Because, well.” He stops himself again, standing up.

“It’s hot in here huh?” He awkwardly laughs and you giggle.

“It is, can I borrow some clothes?” You stand in front of him.

“Of course.” He smiles, grabbing your hand and leading him to your room.

perfect.

It was no secret, you knew Yuuji wanted to fuck you. No matter how slick he thought he was with his glances, you’ve noticed.

You didn’t mind giving him that extra push.

You sit on his bed as he rummages through his drawer. He turns around with a shirt and boxers in his hand.

“Here you can wear this.”

He places it on his bed. He takes off his shirt and you’re blessed with his toned back and arms. You stand up, undressing yourself as well.

“I’m gonna go—Oh.” He stops when he sees you’re in nothing but you're under garments.

He blushes quickly and covers his eyes.

"You should've told me you were gonna change in here!" He stammers, keeping his eyes covered.

You snicker and move close to him, taking his hands away from his face. His eyes are wide, raking over your form. He was always nervous around you and you loved it. You loved the effect you had on him.

"You're tired of holding back, aren't you?" You place his hands on your waist and he's huffing.

His hands are buzzing. Actually, his whole body is, all the blood rushing to his cock.

"You don't have to hold yourself back Yuuji." You slowly push him to sit down on his bed.

He looks up at you as you stand in front of him. Your small hands scratching the back of his head. His hands splay across the small of your back.

"A-Are you sure? I don't want you think we're rushing this." He's internally fighting his desires.

"If you're okay with it, then I'm ok with it." You peck his lips.

"Ok then." He whispers, letting his lips connect with yours.

He pulls you to sit on top of him. He's nothing but gentle with you, every one of his moves is careful, treating you like a porcelain doll.

He places pecks on your neck leading down to your collarbone. He nips at your skin, and you whine.

"Y-Yuuji." He continues to kiss your skin, his hands rubbing slowly against your ass.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful." He stutters in his movements.

His hands move to your bra straps, lightly sliding them off your shoulders.

"Is this ok?" He whispers along your ear and you nod.

His words and softness making you lightheaded. He unclasps your bra and let's it fall to the floor. One hand rests on your hip as he cups your breast with the other. He takes his time, licking and suck on your nipple.

Your moans filling his ears and only egging him on. You move your hips against his hard on. He groans with your breast still in his mouth, moving to the next one. He's stimulating you to good and he hadn't even touched you where you wanted him most.

"Yuuji please." You squeal and he smiles.

"Sorry, just wanna savor this as much as I can." He swiftly stands up with you in his arms, turning around and placing you on his bed.

He pulls back a bit to take you in. Your hair splayed out on his bed. Your eyes lidded and you're breathless with a cute flush on your face.

"S-Stop staring." You get shy, averting your eyes. He laughs, resting his elbows next to each side of your head.

"You're breathtaking you know that."

You blush and his necklace taps your chin. He leads kisses down your stomach, stopping right at your panties. He grabs your thighs, placing them on his shoulders. He places and leaves marks on your inner thighs.

You bite your lip, your hand moving into his hair. He licks your slit with through your panties . You moan loudly, pulling at his hair.

"Don't tease." You draw out and he slides your panties off.

"Fuck baby, you're dripping." He's drooling at the sight. His tongue flats out against your cunt and you gasp.

He doesn't waste a second, lapping at your juices and sucking your clit. He was a good kisser, of course he'd be good at eating you out.

He inserts his tongue in your hole, his nose rubbing your clit in the best way. You're squirming under him, a sob leaving you.

"S'good Yuuji." You moaning his name has him rutting against his mattress. He groans, the vibrations sending shivers down your body.

"I'm so close, keep going." You gasp out, your hands in his hair getting desperate.

You're practically shoving his face in your cunt and grinding yourself on his face. He could care less though, he had to keep repeating to himself not to come as you used his mouth. Your moans become louder and more frequent.

"Cum beautiful, let me taste you." His words muffled.

With a moan of his name, your back arches as he tongue fucks you through your high. You seep into his covers, your legs shaking and your breathless. He sucks the rest of your juices and he stands up, kicking his boxers off. He licks his lips and you whine at the sight. Only then do you look down at his cock. He's girthy and lenghty, a vein running down it.

"Y-You're big. I don't know if you'll fit." You look up at him however he smiles.

"Why do you think I prepped you, I'll go slow I promise." You nod and he kisses your cheek. He teasingly slides his dick against your slit, letting his member get covered with your slick.

"I'm gonna put it in okay?" You nod and he starts pushing his tip inside you. You throw your head back, moaning. You felt like you were getting split in half. He chews his lip, peppering kisses on your face.

"I know, I know baby. Just calm down." He feels terrible for hurting you that he just wanted to pull out.

"Do you want me to pull out? We don't have to do this." He pecks your lips but you shake your head.

"K-Keep going." You moan out so he does. The squelch that comes with him bottoming out has you both moaning.

"L-Let me know when to go okay?" You take a few deep breaths and you give him the green light.

His thrust are slow but you swear you feel him your stomach. With every thrust your sobbing. Guttural moans leaving the both of you.

"Oh f-fuck." Yuuji groans, throwing his head back. He grabs your legs resting them on his shoulder.

"I'm gonna go faster ok?" He groans and you moan back.

Before folding you in half he kisses your ankle, grinning at the anklet he gave you. He immediately sets a fast pace, abusing your cunt. Your moans fill the room, he was surely gonna get a complaint. He's deeper and deeper everytime his hips snap against yours. There's fat tears falling down your cheeks as he fucks you into the mattress.

"You're taking me so good." He moans out, his hips stuttering when you clench around him.

"Fuckkk, you're milking me baby, s-stop clencing I'm gonna cum." He huffs out, he wasn't going to hold out for long so he licks his fingers and starts rubbing at your clit.

"Yuuji!" You scream, your juices shooting out on his cock. Your ears are buzzing and your mind has gone to mush. Your body convulses as Yuuji finishes inside you.

"S-Shit." He breathes out, he drops your legs from his shoulders, doing his best to not put his weight on you.

"We made a mess." He laughs out, still out of breath. You laugh along with him, wincing when he pulls out.

"I'm gonna grab a towel." He pecks your lips.

You rest your arm on top of your eyes as you catch your breath. You jump when he wipes your cunt and thighs.

"Sorry. Did I hurt you?" He wipes more gently, and you hum a no.

"You didn't hurt me. I think that was the best orgasm I've ever had." He chuckles.

"I should've put a towel. I didn't think you were gonna squirt." He blurts out and you slap your hands on your face.

"Yuuji!" You whine.

"My bad! It's nothing to be embarrassed about! It was my first time being squirted on."

You whine again, shoving your face in his pillow. He lays down next to you, pulling you against him.

"Hey, don't be shy. I loved it." He kisses your shoulder, nuzzling his face in your hair.

"Yea but you didn't have to say it like that." You pout and he laughs, making your stomach flutter. You turn around and he smiles when you do but he perks up.

"Did you want a shirt? I can grab it real quick." You shake your head, scooting closer to him.

"No I just wanna cuddle with you." You shove your face under his chin and he smiles.

"I got so lucky." He says out loud.

"Do you think it was fate?" He rambles as he run his hands through your hair.

"Us?" You question and he hums.

"I mean, I like to think it was." He whispers. You smile, gushing at how cute he was.

"You do?"

"Yea, I'm really happy. You're like my angel." You pout at his words.

"You're so sweet Yuuji." You wrap your arms around his neck, and he smiles.

"You know what's funny." He says, placing a peck on your forehead.

"Hm?"

"It all started with a kiss."

You smile as you move to stare in his eyes. You kiss him, pulling away until your noses touched.

"Yea, it did."

© yuuuhiii 24 : don’t plagiarize, translate, or post my work on other platforms

[tojisun]

(quietly) oh god thinking about kyle falling in love with his new neighbour.

How he was just going to crack open a window to let the breeze in only to stop at the sight of his neighbour and her daughter dancing in the rain, twin smiles tugging at their lips as they hop around in their front lawn, feet digging into the muddy parts of their grass garden, letting the water splash out.

Laughter trickles from the two, and it tickles Kyle’s ears, filling him up with such longing he can’t even put a proper name to it.

She is the single mother who moved from another country.

Why she settled in this little suburb, Kyle doesn’t know but he’s thankful of her because there are times when he forgets about many things—himself, for one; the touch of soft blankets and the feel of warm water, for another—but somehow he always finds himself snapping back to his body at seeing her.

At hearing her.

She is beautiful. She is beyond beautiful. She is—

God, how can anyone have that much fortitude and strength and love? How can anyone see the world so optimistically; so full of wonder?

“Oh, you,” she’d murmured, shy, when Kyle had told her of his thoughts, and he watched as her eyelashes brushed against her cheeks at her quiet chuckle.

Kyle’s throat had gone parched—he has never felt this type of yearning before; one that makes him full even when he’s yet to eat anything. One that lulls him to a quiet sleep like his mind and his body have finally found their centre of gravity; like they’re no longer unyielding nor unforgiving. But kind.

Filling. Wondrous.

“It’s because of my little duckling,” she continued, eyes crinkling in her delight. She turned to her snoozing daughter. “I would have been lost without my darling Pen.”

She looked at Kyle then, smiling like he wasn’t just a kind stranger. Like he wasn’t just a nobody.

Kyle stares at the them now, his lips quivering as he watches them dance and splash and giggle to each other. Their laughter sounds like chimes. Like twinkling bells. Like what home sounds.

Kyle stares at them now, wondering if he could ever be part of their family.

(He already is. Have been, for a while now.

Penelope adores Kyle. So much so that she would not stop asking you when could she play agIn with the kind man next door.

She tells you that Kyle is so patient—not in those words, but she tells you that Kyle always asks more about her stories, and asks her who are her friends and which of her collection of toys is her favourite.

And Pen is still too young to understand the word ‘patience’ but she tells you how Kyle is nothing but.

How he never once rejects her tea time invitation, even if the tea is just bottled sweet tea and grocery store cupcakes that you were able buy that week.

How he never once asks why she doesn’t know how to tie her shoelaces, and instead teaches her time and time again. That he never gets snappy even if she keeps forgetting.

She even recounts to you how excited she had been when Kyle showed up for the dad-daughter dance hosted at her school. He’d asked for your permission then, going shy as he stuttered out his, “But I don’t want to impose and you can say no, I swear, and we can just ignore this and—”

“Kyle,” you murmured, your eyes prickling with tears. “I’d be honoured if you were there for Pen.”

He said something to you then. It was a slip of his tongue, clearly something he didn’t want you to hear, and you honoured his wishes but when a man like Kyle—

No.

When Kyle says, “I wish I can be there f’r you too.” What is the natural reaction if not to let him know that he can?

That you want him too?)

(Penny likes Mr. Kyle.

He talks funny, like the many others in this new country.

Mama said it’s not nice to say that Mr. Kyle talks funny but Mr. Kyle is not angry. He just laughs with Penny, and says she should hear his best friend, Mr. Johnny, talk.

Penny is told Mr. Johnny sings more than he talks. Penny giggles at the idea of it.

Penny likes Mr. Kyle.

He is warm and he always has toffee in his pocket for Penny.

He also laughs loud, like the one from the belly, and she thinks that his laugh fills their house with how loud it is. Mama said that Mr. Kyle laughs loud so that the monsters under Penny’s bed would leave. Penny cried and said many thanks to Mr. Kyle after that.

Penny likes Mr. Kyle.

He…

He makes mama happy.

Not the way Penny makes mama happy. No one can make mama more happy than Penny could! But he buys her flowers and donuts and- and books! Adults are so weird.

Books are no fun.

Sometimes she wished Mr. Kyle can be her real dad.)

[acowardinmordor]

Risk and Reward

Steddie-adjacent. Tw: homophobia

I always love fics where Steve makes himself Eddie’s alibi while Eddie is still unconscious/in a coma. Knows that it will work because he knows in this town there is no way anyone would believe that Steve Harrington would come out if it wasn’t real. No one would believe it, because everyone knows that his parents are always gone, because his dad is in Congress railing against the gays and their depravity and how they deserve to die and burn.

Steve saying it. Signing an affidavit about it. Giving quotes to the ravenous press. It has to be true. And everyone who doesn’t think it’s disgusting think it’s the most romantic thing in the world.

The government was stepping in, all eyes were pointed at Munson, and he was going to be thrown in a cell for life. Or, to save the cost of the trial, he would have vanished somewhere between the hospital and the prison.

Steve coming out stops that. Airtight alibi, reinforced by the knowledge that there will be consequences.

Eddie is safe, and the government has changed tactics, is blaming dead Jason Carver for it all. Eddie wakes up six weeks later, shocked to wake up at all, and trusts his uncle enough to play along. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were dating the Harrington kid?’ Eddie knows how to tell a story that leaves space for a player to fill in their side. He tells stories about little moments and always describes things from his perspective. That way, if it contradicts the story that’s already out there, he can make a find quip about how he remembers it different.

When he finally gets a moment alone with his uncle, two days later, his guess gets confirmed. Wayne knows damn well that Eddie’s gayer than a maypole, and also knows that Eddie has called Steve his nemesis for years. Wayne knew from the second Steve said it that it was a lie, and knew it would work if it was believed.

The only thing confusing Eddie - well, the only thing in this tiny slice of his world - is why his fake boyfriend/no-longer-nemesis, isn’t in the hospital too, playing the part. If the guy was willing to say it at all, then he’d go all in. If there was one thing Eddie’d learned during those days, it was that Steve only ever did something at 100%

And yes, part of him feels terrible that Steve did this just to save him. He feels awful knowing that this is going to ruin a chance for a normal life. Wayne said the Indianapolis paper picked up a story about it. But at the same time, he’s so fucking grateful. Steve saved him. Again. And now, at least for a while, they’ll need to keep up the story. He’ll get to hang out with him, pretend they’re dating, stand close and cuddle closer. He also feels bad about how excited he is for that chance.

It’s the next morning when Eddie realizes his uncle dodged every question about why Steve wasn’t here. Wayne dodged almost every question after explaining what happened with Steve and the press and the Feds in the first weeks. Then, nothing.

The party visits him that afternoon, a veneer of joy stretched thin over something worse. Eddie’s first guess is that Red didn’t make it. But he hears her a moment later, complaining about ‘these stupid casts slowing me down’. The kids aren’t as good at dodging as Wayne is. Eddie gets the story quickly, such as it is.

The Harringtons came home from DC, gave a few speeches in praise of law enforcement against a serial killer. They visited the families of those that died.

They sent an assistant to find Steve in the hospital to deliver a message. No one else heard it, but the best guess is that it was a threat. Steve went with the assistant. They haven’t seen him since. When Dustin confronted the Harringtons at their last event in town, all they’d say was that ‘our son is getting the best help, and we love him dearly’

Eddie looks at Robin when he hears that for what it is. She drops the kids back home and begs a sympathetic nurse to let her talk to Eddie past visiting hours.

“It’s been a month since he vanished”

“Where?”

“We don’t know, we tried, even Hopper - he’s not dead - couldn’t find him. And this guy named Murray. We don’t know.”

“But…. ‘The best help’. You know that means…”

“I know”

“He’s, Christ, Buckley, he’s straight. Ladykiller. He’s straight and they sent him to some—“

“Yeah, but Eddie… I don’t know if I should… I guess, not that it matters now, and he never said anything, but he’s my best friend. He’s my soulmate. I know him and I think… if his dad wasn’t like he is… if he’d ever felt safe saying so… he knew they’d be furious when he came forward as your alibi, but he told me they’d just disown him, and it would be over. He was scared, but he was okay with what he thought was going to happen”

“I thought he hates me”

“He kinda did”

“Not anymore?”

“No.” There’s a pause where they both think about where Steve might be right now.

“Maybe he hates me again now.”

“I don’t think he would, but…”

And Eddie thinks how weird it is to see spastic Robin Buckley, who rambled in the Upside Down and always had more energy that she could contain, acting so subdued. No. So broken.

They both heard the Harringtons’ speeches and ads when he ran for office. They know what the man thinks about people like them. They both heard stories about what the places are like, where someone can go to ‘get help’

“Do you think I’ll ever get to thank him?”

“No.”

“Do you think we’ll ever see him again? You and the kids at least?”

She’s quiet for a long time, before she picks up her bag.

“If he ever gets to leave wherever they put him, and we ever see him, I don’t think he’ll be the person we knew anymore.”

[tarosunshine]

CUTEST ⌇ PWB

꣑୧ how clingy is wonbin.

drabble fluff ⭒ best friend park wonbin female r. words 571 . . . 𝒞ataloge

wonbin is someone who loves physical contact. he's the clingiest, and with his smile and boba eyes, he can have anyone wrapped around his finger. and you, his dearest friend, are not the exception.

“you have been lying there sience two hours ago” a mocking and low voice reached your ears. you rolled your eyes as you slightly raised up your head to see behind you. the smirk on anton's face made you frown.

“and you don't have things to do?” turning your head again and resting on the sofa, you say to your friend.

“very funny. anyway, i'm going to the supermarket, i'll be back in an hour” he put his jacket and shoes on, as he spoke to you. “you need something?” you shook your head before waving your hand in the air. “see ya later!”

five minutes later, you heard the door opening again, but you didn't raise up your head this time. “i bet you forgot the keys, dumb.” the only thing you heard was a few steps coming closer to you.

“hey, pretty” a pair of shiney eyes appeared in front of you from behind the sofa. you widened your eyes with surprise as you looked up at the black haired boy.

for a couple of seconds you forgot that wonbin had the keys of the apartment, just in case.

“hey, won.. didn't you had classes?” you look how the boy surrounded the sofa and just stared at you with a tiny smile on his lips as he kept standing there. the cap over his head made him ever cute.

“yeah, i felt kinda bored, so i came here to play some video games with anton. but he isn't here..” his eyes analyzed the apartment before coming back to your eyes. you just nood in response. wonbin hummed taking off his cap and trowing it somewhere behind him.

“i see, then i can lie a little before he came back” he said and you nood again, believing that he is referring to lie on the bed of the empty room you have with your roommate, anton.

but you were surprised when he lifted your left arm and made himself conformable by your side— almost on top of you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. your heart stopped for a couple of seconds as you swallowed.

“what are you doing?”

“mm, resting?” he said in a playful tone. you still had your left arm suspended in the air. “i'm making you uncomfortable?” he asked, meeting your eyes, giving you that freaking stare with his big eyes that you hated (loved).

“no, it's okay” you finally relax yourself, putting your arm slowly over his shoulder, giving him some pats, making wonbin chuckle.

“all right” his bright smile made you smile too. he sighed and closed his eyes as he hid his face on your neck again. his arms hugged your waist carefully. “can you wake me up when anton comes back, please?” his husky voice and hot breath on your skin send shivers down your spine.

“you really gonna sleep, bin?” you giggled as you squeezed his shoulder. he nodded, humming.

“yeah, so you should stroke my hair so i can sleep..” you could feel his smile against your neck, and that made your smile go bigger.

like he said, you stroked his hair, which was starting to get to the length he had a couple of months ago, and you were so excited about it.

as the minutes passed, you felt how wonbin started to relax and saw the raise and fall of his back. ten minutes later, he was totally passed out on your arms.

[achilles-rage]

Good Luck Charm: Chapter 18

college football player!buck x plus size!reader

summary: you finally finish your assignment and talk about the upcoming holiday break.

word count: 3.1k

previous chapter

series masterlist

a/n: believe me when i say i was not planning for this chapter to go the way it did. but it’s fine it was hot<3 i also kept the holiday reader celebrates ambiguous to keep it inclusive, so hopefully i can keep it going being nonspecific lol, enjoy<3

warnings: smut, plus size!reader, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

MDNI- 18+ only!

While Evan put up a fight at first about accepting your help, he quickly got over it. You kept trying to reassure him that you want to help, that you want him to heal as well as possible, even if you have to do things for him. He didn’t listen at first; he didn’t want to be a burden; he didn’t want you to be annoyed with him or feel like you had to help him. But still, you continued to care for him with a smile on your face, and soon enough, he started to love how much you were doting on him. It made him feel important, loved.

It’s almost exhausting when he’s finally used to you doing things for him, and you’d be a little upset if he wasn’t so cute with his little pouty lips and puppy dog eyes. 

“Princess, can you get me some more water?”

“Princess, can you get me a sweater?”

“Princes, can you…?”

You’re almost certain he’s exaggerating his injuries by now, as his concussion is gone and his ankle has been healing for a couple of weeks, but how can you say no when he asks you to stay with him for a little bit longer? You love being with him, and you love taking care of him, so it makes sense to spend most nights at his place rather than going back to your apartment.

You’re at his house again, both of you sitting on his bed as you work on the final touches of your assignment. You’re happy to finally be done with it, although you have this weird feeling in your chest that once your assignment is handed in, you won’t have any reason to see Evan. You know your worries are unnecessary; you’re dating, and he seems very content in keeping you around all the time, but you feel that minuscule voice in your head telling you what you know isn’t true. 

You look out his bedroom window, smiling as you see the soft blanket of snow covering his front yard, the sunset shining brightly off of it and making you excited for the quickly approaching winter break. It’s already December, and you can’t believe how quickly the semester has passed. A couple weeks off and finally able to spend some time with your family? You couldn’t imagine anything better. Especially for the holidays.

“What are you doing for winter break?” you ask as Evan types away on his computer. He looks up at you after a moment, his fingers stilling on his keyboard. His expression almost looks upset, but he quickly covers it with a small smile.

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll probably stay here; hang out with some of the guys on the team that aren’t going home either.” he tells you, his voice oddly monotone. You know he’s not especially close to his parents, but you didn’t know it was bad enough for him to not go home during winter break. He’s definitely holding his emotions back right now, and it makes your heart clench to think about him alone during the holidays, with no loving family to go home to.

“Your parents don’t want you to go home?” you ask, but you already know the answer. He shrugs, giving you a soft “I don’t think they care” as he looks down at his hands, fidgeting with his fingers. Sadness fills your eyes, and you let out a quiet exhale. How can his parents not want to see him?

“What about your sister? I’m sure she wants to see you.” you try to reassure him, but you can see that your words cause sadness to fill his eyes as he shakes his head. You reach over and grab one of his hands, which pulls his gaze from his lap to your face. 

“You can’t be alone for the holidays.” you whisper. You can feel the question on the tip of your tongue, and while you know it may be a little weird to ask, it feels like the words are fighting their way up your throat.

“I’ll be alright, princess. It’s not the first time, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.” he tells you with a shrug, trying to mask his sadness with a reassuring smile. You tilt your head to the side as you look at him, frowning. You feel the words slip from your mouth before you can stop him; why is he the one reassuring you right now? You should be the one telling him that he shouldn’t have to be used to that. That he deserves to feel loved all the time, but especially around the holidays.

“Why don’t you come home with me for the break?” His eyes widen at your words, and for a moment, so do yours. You know it’s probably too early for that kind of thing; he’d be meeting your entire family, for God’s sake, but you can’t imagine him sitting here alone while everyone else is with their families.

“You want me at your parents’ house for the holidays?” he asks in disbelief, although he can feel his heart pounding at the thought. He absolutely loves the idea of meeting your parents, and spending a few weeks in your hometown; learning even more about you.

“I’m sure they’d love to meet you. I know my mom does.” you tell him a bit sheepishly. You’ve told your mom about him already, although you’re not as close to her as you once were, you still talk to her fairly regularly.

“Your dad doesn’t?” he asks you curiously, using the hand holding yours to pull you towards him. You get up onto your knees and crawl across the bed, then straddle his lap and wrap your arms around his neck loosely.

“I haven’t told him. Not sure how he’d react.” you say with a shrug, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his. He hums softly, and although he’s a little nervous about your answer, he also feels an overwhelming urge to prove to your father that he’s good for you.

“Yeah? Tell me about him, so I know what to expect.” You lean back, looking at him with an unsure smile, disbelief in your eyes. 

“You’ll come?” you ask, your smile widening when he nods. You laugh softly and lean in to give him a chaste kiss, but he quickly deepens it, his hand moving to your jaw and tilting your head slightly. You smile into the kiss, and let him continue to kiss you for a moment, one of your hands making its way into his hair while his other hand moves up and down your thigh.

“So, tell me about your parents.” he speaks after he pulls away, looking up at you with a gleam in his eye. He loves the way you look sitting on his lap, lips puffy and eyes in a slight daze. He thinks it’s adorable that even after the countless times he’s kissed you, you still always pull back with wide eyes and a soft smile, almost like you’re surprised he’s kissing you.

“Well, my mom will love you, so you don’t have to worry about her much. I think she’ll just be happy I’ve finally brought someone home. My dad’s sort of protective, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. He’s a firefighter, and he’s an extrovert, so all you have to do is ask him about his job, and the heat will be off of you for hours.” you explain to him, laughing softly as you explain your dad’s tendency to talk about his job. He’s always wanted to be a firefighter, and he loves the job, so it’s become a joke between you and your mom about how quickly he can change the subject to work during conversations with anyone that will listen. 

Evan hums softly, nodding as he listens to you. He laughs along with you, feeling his nerves settle slightly as you tell him how to get on your dad’s good side. He can’t believe he’s agreed to this so quickly; a few months ago, he would never have pictured himself being introduced to a girl’s parents. But now, with you, he feels both excited and like his heart is about to stop from his nerves.

“You think he’ll like me?” he asks a bit nervously. You smile, shrugging as you think about it. You’ve never introduced a guy to your father, so you’re really not sure how he’ll react. While you want to reassure Evan, you don’t want to give him a false sense of hope. 

“I like you. I think he’ll see that. He might just have to warm up to you.” you tell him after a moment of silence. He nods again at your words, licking his lips as he averts his gaze from yours, beginning to think about it maybe a little too much. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. He’ll probably just want to make sure you’re a good guy. It’s not like he’ll find out you’re, like, a murderer or something.” you tease in a low voice, giving him a cheeky smile. You want to calm his nerves; you can see the wheels turning in his head. He chuckles as his eyes refocus on you, and he pulls you in by the back of your neck, lips level with your ear.

“Maybe not, but I definitely wouldn’t want him to find out what I’ve done with you, how I think of you most of the time.” he rasps, and you feel your cheeks grow hot. 

“Yeah? What are you thinking about right now?” you get out, your voice just above a whisper. Although your words are teasing, your stomach is filled with butterflies. Even after months of being with him, there’s always a split second that you forget you’re not still the shy, inexperienced person you were before.

“I’m thinking about taking you in your childhood bedroom. Your parents in the other room. Having to put my hand over your mouth to keep your quiet.” he says, nipping at your neck between sentences. You bite your lip, feeling a familiar warmth in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re crazy if you think my dad’s gonna let us share a room.” you tease softly, tilting your head back as he continues to kiss your neck. He chuckles against your skin, which causes you to shiver as his hot breath hits your neck.

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.” he whispers in your ear, then continues his trail of kisses down your neck. You roll your eyes, giggling softly, but it’s cut short when you feel Evan’s hand dip below the waistband of both your leggings and your panties, and move straight to your core.

“You’re so wet already. You like that idea? Having to keep quiet for me?” he says in a cocky tone, looking up at you. You bite your lip as your hips buck against his hand instinctively, trying to gain more friction as his fingers ghost against your clit.

He chuckles as he feels your hips move, but doesn’t tease any further. He pushes a finger into your dripping cunt, pumps it into you a few times, then adds another. You mewl softly, leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss, which he happily returns. His thumb finds your clit after a moment, and he groans as he feels you clench around his fingers with a soft moan.

“You’re so good for me, princess. Always so good for me.” he says against your lips, then curls his fingers to hit that spot inside of you that makes you see stars. You tilt your head back with a whine, rolling your hips as you feel the familiar feeling growing in your belly.

He increases his movements when he sees your face contorting in pleasure, knowing you’re approaching your high, but you stop him before you can get there. You pull his hand away with quick, albeit reluctant, movements.

“Need to feel you.” you whisper in an almost pleading tone, and that’s all it takes.

He grabs your hips and flips you over onto the bed, then moves to kneel in front of you. He reaches for your leggings and makes quick work of pulling them and your panties down your legs, you lifting your hips off the bed to help him out. He makes you sit up once your bottoms are discarded, and pulls your knit sweater over your head, not even bothering to take your bra off before his hands are pulling on his shirt. Once he’s taken his clothes off, he’s on top of you, using one arm to hold himself up, and the other pumping his cock a few times before moving the tip over your slick folds.

“Please.” you beg as you look up at his face, pupils blown and lips turned in an almost-pout. He licks his lips as his eyes move up from your cunt to your eyes, smirking. He doesn’t waste any more time, and he sinks into you with a breathy groan. His head falls to the crook of your neck as he buries himself to the hilt, feeling you stretching around him so perfectly. 

“Oh my god.” you whine as your hands find his shoulders. Your nails dig into his skin as he starts to move, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to his size. He fits so nicely inside of you, but you’d be lying if you said there’s not a second when he first pushes into your dripping cunt where you think that you’re too full, that you won’t get used to the feeling of all of him.

“That’s it, princess. Let me hear you.” he drawls. He picks up the pace as he begins to kiss down your neck, making sure he leaves light spots around your collar bones and tits. He loves marking you, but the last time he marked your neck, you got mad that you weren’t able to cover it up easily, so now he leaves them in places for his eyes only. 

You let out a shuttered cry when his fingers find your clit again, and your nails dig into his back more harshly, which makes him groan in a mix of pain and pleasure. He loves to be marked by you too, loves having reminders of you on his skin. He leans back to look into your eyes again, and he almost smirks when he sees you struggling to keep your eyes open, your body moving with each thrust. He looks down at your soft tummy and chest and he moans again. He loves seeing your tummy move as he fucks you; almost as much as he likes to fill your belly with his seed.

“Keep making noises like that and I won’t last long, baby.” he teases, then meets your lips in a deep kiss. His hips move in rough thrusts as his fingers circle your clit, and you know that you’re not going to last long either.

“Feels so good.” you rasp against his lips, and he smirks as he pulls back.

“Yeah? You like that, princess?” he asks in a cocky tone, feeling his high quickly approaching as he looks down at your fucked out expression. All you can do is nod as you feel the pit in your tummy growing, your words coming out in incoherent babbling.

With a few more thrusts, Evan is right on the edge, but as he’s about to pull out, you wrap your legs around his waist. He raises a brow as you look up at him, soft pleas escaping your lips.

“Come inside me. Evan, please.” you get out, keeping your legs firmly locked around him. He groans, trying not to cum right then and there. The way you say his name makes his head spin, and soon enough, he’s nodding, his hips snapping against yours with increased fervor.

“You want me to fill you up? Huh, princess?” he asks, leaning in to whisper in your ear. His thrusts are getting sloppy, and you know he’s almost there.

“Please. Fill me up.” you plead, your back arching off the bed as you feel yourself teetering on the edge.

“Come for me, baby. Let me feel you.” he grunts in your ear, and after a few more thrusts, you feel his hot cum hitting your insides. This, paired with his fingers ghosting over your clit causes you to fall over to the edge with a high pitched squeal, clenching around him as your vision goes blank. You squeeze your eyes shut as your body goes stiff, your hands still firmly on his shoulders.

“There you go, princess. God, you’re gorgeous.” he whispers against your skin. He slows his hips to a stop, staying inside of you for a minute or two as you both catch your breath. He moves his head down to the valley of your breasts, pressing soft kisses all over the skin not covered by your bra as he stays lying on top of you, and you hum happily.

After a few minutes, he finally pulls out, groaning at the sight of his cum dripping down your soft skin and onto his sheets. He grabs a towel from his closet and cleans you off carefully, pressing kisses on your plush belly as his hands moves, and once he’s done, he crawls back into bed beside you and pulls you in to lay your head on his chest.

“We can’t do this at my parents’ house.” you tease as you lay your cheek against his chest, and you smile when you feel the rumble of his laugh ripple through his chest under you.

“No? Don’t think you can keep quiet?” he replies in a similar tone, squeezing your shoulder as he holds you tightly against him. 

“I’m more worried about you.” you tell him in a serious tone. He can hear the smile in your voice, but he still rolls his eyes as he scoffs.

“Yeah, we’ll see.” he says in a quiet tone, voice trailing off as he looks up at the ceiling. 

If you’re really serious about not doing anything for two weeks, he thinks he’ll go crazy. He’s been able to have you pretty much anytime he wants for the past few months, and imagining you at your house, forbidden fruit dangling in front of him with your father around, he knows it’s going to be torture for him.

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[alwaysmicado]

Callisto I

10.2k | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 9

Series Masterlist | Joel Masterlist | previous | AO3

Warnings: no outbreak AU, implied age gap, emotional hurt/comfort, weed, mention of domestic violence, toxic dynamic, graphic vomiting, emotional rollercoaster, fluff Summary: Your car ride home from the beach is...eventful. Joel does something special for you to express his feelings. A/N: This part was going to be much too long, so I split it in two. It was important for me to post part I of Callisto before my birthday, and I’m so excited that I finally get to share it with you. Happy reading & please let me know your thoughts if you’re up for it. Thank you for your continued support, guys! ♡ Dividers by @/cafekitsune. Songs: Backburner by NIKI & My Exes by Snake City

“Why do you keep coming back?”

You bring the joint to your lips, your fingers brushing lightly against his as he passes it over. You take a deep drag, letting the familiar burn of the weed settle into your lungs before you exhale, slowly, the smoke curling into the night air. It’s a slow haze, softening your anger, making it easier to breathe even if only for a little while. 

The pressure in your chest doesn’t lift—it never does, not really—but the weed at least dulls the edges.

For now, anyway.

The streetlight casts long shadows on the chipped concrete, bathing you both in a murky orange hue. You sit side by side on the curb, the shared joint passing lazily between you, the quiet of the night only disturbed by a dog barking further down the road.

Simon leans back, his shoulders slumped, the hood of his jacket pulled up, obscuring most of his face. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, tracing the outline of his jaw, the way his lips curl around the joint. You hate how he still looks good to you, even after his latest stunt. 

“Why do you keep coming back?” he asks again, his voice low and gravelly, as if he already knows the answer but wants to hear you say it. “If all we do is hurt each other?”

You shrug, looking up at the stars, or what little of them you can see through the haze of city smog. You know the answer, but it feels too pathetic to admit out loud. The truth? It’s not that simple. It never has been.

“Maybe because the pain is addicting,” you whisper, your voice barely cutting through the stillness. “It’s like…a twisted dance, and we can’t stop stepping on each other’s toes.”

Simon smirks, and you catch the briefest glimpse of that crooked smile that makes your heart race. “You always were poetic,” he mutters, his tone tinged with both affection and scorn. He passes you the joint again, and this time, when your fingers brush, it sends a jolt through you—familiar, electric, dangerous.

You take a drag, letting the smoke cloud your thoughts, dull the ache. “I mean it, Simon,” you say, the words coming out slower now, heavy from both the high and the weight of them. “We know how to hurt each other in all the right ways. It’s almost like…we’re better at hurting than loving.”

He chuckles, but it’s empty, hollow. “Maybe we were never supposed to love in the first place,” he says, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Maybe all we’re good at is fucking things up.”

There’s no denying the truth in his words. You’ve been here before, countless times, caught in this cycle of destruction, breaking each other apart piece by piece, only to come back together, craving the chaos more than the calm. Simon would get restless after a while, he’d cheat and lie, you’d find out, you’d scream, cry, threaten to leave, and then—somehow—you’d end up in his arms again.

It was exhausting, suffocating, but it was also magnetic. You didn’t know how to leave. And neither did he.

You sigh, flicking the ashes of the joint onto the ground, your hand trembling slightly. “It’s fucked up, isn’t it?” you say, more to yourself than to him. “The way I can’t seem to let you go, even though I know you’re bad for me.”

He tilts his head, a smirk tugging at his lips as he studies your face for a moment. “Have you ever considered that you’d be a lot happier if you just admitted to yourself that you like it?”

He reaches for the joint, his fingers brushing yours for longer this time, deliberate. “You can keep telling yourself I’m the bad guy all you want, babe,” he says, his voice low, “but we both know you ain’t innocent in this either. You like it. The fighting, the drama, the sex. You like what we have.”

Your stomach tightens at his words, because there’s a part of you that knows he’s right. 

You’ve said things, done things, you’re not proud of. Screamed in his face, hurled insults meant to wound, thrown plates that shattered like the fragile remains of your relationship. And then, when the storm passed, you’d pull him into bed, your anger melting into a desperate kind of need. It was all you knew—this toxic spiral that twisted love and pain together until you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

“Maybe,” you admit softly, feeling the weight of your own guilt settle on your shoulders. “Maybe I do.”

Simon turns to you then, his gaze locking with yours, and for a moment, you can see the cracks in his armor, the vulnerability he never lets anyone else see. “So, what are we doing here?” he asks, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “We’re just gonna keep doing this? Over and over?”

You swallow hard, the question hanging between you like a knife. You know the answer, even if you don’t want to admit it. You’re stuck in this loop, and neither of you knows how to break free.

“I don’t know,” you say, your voice barely audible. “I don’t know how to stop.”

Simon leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek, and for a second, your heart races with that familiar, dangerous anticipation. “We don’t have to stop,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “We can keep this going; keep fucking up, keep hurting, keep loving. It’s what we do.”

You let out a small, tired laugh, and shake your head. “Yeah, Simon, great plan,” you say, your tone light, almost condescending, though there’s no real bite behind it. “Let’s just keep breaking each other into pieces. That’s gonna end well.”

You don’t even have the energy to fight properly. It’s all too much, and you’re too tired. Tired of the fights, the back-and-forth, the constant cycling through pain and passion like it’s the only way you know how to exist together.

He watches you closely, his gaze unwavering, as if he’s trying to figure out what you’re thinking, waiting for you to snap at him, to tell him off. But you don’t. You can’t. You feel the exhaustion settle in your bones, making it impossible to muster up any anger.

Why is it so difficult?

What the hell is wrong with you that it’s so difficult for him to love you? To not hurt you? You wonder if it’s something about you, something broken deep inside, something that makes you impossible to love. 

You’ve tried, haven’t you? You’ve bent yourself to fit the version of you he seems to want, the version that’s easier, less complicated, less demanding. But no matter how much you bend, no matter how much you give, it’s never enough.

What is it about you that’s so unlovable?

“I’m sorry, you know,” Simon murmurs, taking a long drag from the joint.

You blink, your head feeling light, detached, like you’re floating just above the surface of yourself. The words come slower now, softer, like you have to pull them from some faraway place.

“For what?”

You hear yourself ask the question, but it feels distant, like it’s not really you speaking. The world around you is muffled, like you’re wrapped in cotton, the sounds, the lights, all muted. Simon’s face swims in your vision, and for a moment, you focus on the way his lips curve as he exhales, the smoke curling lazily from his mouth. You watch it drift up, swirling in the air between you, and it’s almost beautiful, the way it moves, weightless and free.

Simon glances at you, his eyes half-lidded, bloodshot, but there’s something in his gaze—something that makes you feel a tug of recognition, though your mind is too foggy to grasp what it is. He takes another drag, slower this time, and when he speaks again, his voice is soft.

“You know what.” He hands you back the joint and you take it, and you inhale deeply, the burn in your lungs calming your nerves.

“Then why’d you do it?” 

He hadn’t even tried to hide it this time. You heard the story from someone else first, a smug, offhand comment meant as a joke. Simon, with his arm slung over your shoulder, laughing along like it was nothing, like you weren’t standing right there, feeling the ground crumble beneath your feet.

“I was drunk as fuck ‘cause they kept bringing shots after shots after shots, and she took advantage of that like you wouldn’t believe. That’s what those girls do, and shit, I wasn’t the only one they got like that—Ben, Jake, Alex, Teddy too, I think.”

All of them in relationships, one to be married in two weeks, one with a baby on the way. 

Disgusting.

“It’s so easy for you, isn’t it?” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Simon furrows his brow, turning to you, confusion flashing across his face. “What do you mean?”

You shake your head, unable to look at him directly, your gaze fixed on the joint between your fingers. “Going through life, knowing nothing is ever your fault,” you murmur. There’s no anger in your tone, just a tired sort of resignation, like you’re saying something you’ve known all along.

“What are you talking about?” he scoffs. “Nothing’s ever been easy for me. I fucked up royally, yeah, I get that, but it wasn’t my fucking fault. I didn’t even wanna go to the damn club, but Alex wouldn’t stop begging, so I gave in.”

“You see?” you say, your voice quiet, but firm. “You’re fine as long as Alex was the one who made you cheat. It’s all good ‘cause the stripper took advantage of you, right?” You can hear the bitterness in your own voice.

“You don’t need to change or grow, ‘cause, what’s the point, your parents fucked you up anyway. It’s your boss’s fault your coworkers complain about you, it’s the cops’ fault that you got a DUI, and it’s my fault that you resent me.”

You watch Simon’s face as the words sink in, the flicker of defensiveness in his eyes, the way his jaw tightens.

“And I know that deep down you really do believe all that.” You pause, staring at him through the thick fog clouding your mind, your body sinking deeper into the concrete. “So, I guess my question is…why even bother with me anymore?”

“Baby…”

“No, I’m serious,” you say, cutting him off, but there’s no fire in your voice, just a dull weariness that matches the slow pulse of your heartbeat. “Why? Why keep me around when you could be happy, doing what you wanna do, without me holding you back?”

Simon sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair, his shoulders slumping. “I wouldn’t be happy without you.”

“But I’m not enough for you,” you whisper, tears inadvertently filling your eyes. “I’ve never been enough. Despite trying everything in my power. I’m not enough for you.”

Simon doesn’t answer right away. He takes the joint from your hand, inhaling deeply, staring at some distant point in the darkened parking lot. The quiet stretches, thick and uncomfortable, and for a moment, you think he’s not going to answer at all. But then he finally sighs, rubbing a hand over his face like he’s trying to buy himself more time.

“What do you want me to say?” he mutters. “You know I’m not always good with words or expressing feelings and all that shit…but you’re wrong. You’re everything to me.”

He hands you the joint and you shake your head, a mirthless laugh bubbling to the surface. “Yeah, that’s why you fucked a stripper and had unprotected sex with me right after. Do you hear yourself?”

He exhales exasperatedly as he leans back, palms pressed against the cool concrete. “It’s not– it didn’t mean anything,” he says, his voice defensive. “It’s not like I’m looking for someone better than you.”

“Then why?” you press, your voice shaking now. “If I’m so important to you, why do you keep lying and sneaking around? What’s the point?”

He sighs again, louder this time, like he’s tired of this conversation before it’s even really begun. “I don’t know, okay? I get restless sometimes. I’m not…thinking when I do it.” His thumb brushes over the back of your hand, a small, almost absent-minded gesture that makes your heart clench. “It’s not like I’m trying to hurt you. I’m really not, baby. And It doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

His hand tightens around yours, grounding you in the moment, and for a second, you almost feel comforted.

Almost.

But then, like a flash, the memory hits you—sharp, vivid, paralyzing.

The pain shoots through your wrist all over again, that awful, sickening crunch echoing in your ears. You’re back in the ER, the blinding white lights overhead making your eyes burn, your head pounding as you sit there, staring at the sterile walls. You’d made up some story, but the nurse looked right through you, her eyes filled with pity.

You remember how you sat there, waiting, your body aching but your mind empty, not even able to cry a single tear. Just numb. Completely detached from yourself, like you were watching it all from the outside.

You remember the young doctor, the one who stitched you up. His voice was light, conversational, doing his best to distract you from the deep gash in your wrist. He told you about how his daughter had just started kindergarten that day. How proud and terrified he and his wife were, how they’d taken a hundred pictures of her in her little backpack. How she was such a happy, bright girl, full of curiosity and excitement.

You could barely listen, but you remember the way his voice softened when he said, “I just hope she always knows how loved she is.”

That was the part that stuck with you.

The way his voice cracked just slightly when he said it, like he was imagining all the ways the world could break her. How someone could end up hurting her like someone hurt you. And as you sat there, the needle pulling your skin back together, all you could think about was how far away that feeling was—how you had no idea what it felt like to be that loved, that safe.

You swallow hard, looking down at your intertwined hands. “You’ve said that before, you know. When you drove me home from the hospital.” Your voice is soft, almost too quiet, but the accusation is there.

Simon stiffens. His grip loosens slightly, and you can see the flicker of guilt in his eyes, but it’s the kind of guilt that runs shallow, just skimming the surface. His jaw clenches, and he pulls his hand away.

“I thought you were over that,” he mutters. 

You stare at him for a moment, then let out a soft, bitter laugh. “Yeah, sure,” you say with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You hold out your hand to him, the small scar visible on your wrist, faded but undeniable. “Totally over it. Look, it’s almost like it never happened.”

Simon’s face falters as he hesitates, then takes your hand gently, his thumb brushing over the scar as though trying to erase it with that simple touch.

“I wasn’t right that night,” he murmurs, his eyes locked on your hand before you pull away. “You know I’m not…I wasn’t right.”

You chuckle and take the joint from him. “Yeah, I know.”

He’s silent beside you, his fingers twitching like he wants to reach for you again but doesn’t know how. You can feel his eyes on you, heavy with unspoken words, but you don’t look at him. Instead, you take a slow drag from the joint, letting the smoke fill your lungs.

“I’m not doing that anymore,” Simon says quietly.

You don’t respond. You don’t even look at him. You smoke in silence, absentmindedly rubbing over a faded bruise on your leg.

“The past few months were nice, weren’t they?” Simon’s voice cuts through the silence, tentative, like he’s testing the waters. “I mean, we were fine, right? You were happy?”

You nod, exhaling slowly as the smoke leaves your lips. “I was happy, yeah.”

“Then let’s go back to that. I don’t wanna fall asleep without you in my arms again.” He moves closer, his hand reaching for your chin, gripping it gently, so you’ll look at him. His eyes are wide, pleading, the same look he always gives you when he’s trying to pull you back in. “I’m sorry for hurting you.”

Which time?

“Hey, I mean it.” He turns your head back, his grip tighter now. “I’m trying to be better for you, I really am. Just…tell me what you want me to do to make it right and I’ll do it. Anything.” 

“You know, I never wanted you to become a better person for me, Simon,” you say softly, removing his hand from your chin, and letting it fall to his side. “I wanted you to look in the mirror, and realize that you’re a fucking asshole, and change for yourself. I wanted you to realize you’re turning into the very man you always told me you’d rather die than become.”

He stares at you for a moment, then shakes his head as the mask he so carefully wears is slipping. “You love doing this, don’t you?” he mutters. “Pushing, prodding, trying to make me feel like shit.”

You curl your arms around your legs, pulling them close to your chest, your voice calm. “If the shoe fits…”

“Oh, really?” he scoffs, his voice dripping with venom. “You think you’re so much fucking better than me, don’t you? Well, let me tell you this, princess. You’re not as fucking perfect as you think you are, and if you think other people can’t see that, you’re hallucinating.”

“I don’t think I’m perfect, Simon. I wouldn’t be here if I did.” Your voice is softer than you intend, like the weed is suppressing your strength to yell. “I wouldn’t be here if I did.”

“Then why the fuck are you here if you hate me so much?”

“‘Cause I’m an idiot.” You bring the joint to your lips and inhale deeply. “I’m an idiot who can’t let go. ‘Cause I still think you could be better if you just tried. If you stopped listening to your friends, if you stopped drinking, if you stopped blaming me for every shitty thing that’s happened to you in the last five years.”

He’s shaking his head before you even finish. “I don’t do that.”

“Yes, you do.”

“And your solution is to just up and leave without telling me where you are? Very mature.”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. “I can’t talk to you, Simon. Every time I try, it’s like I’m talking to a wall.”

“You could talk to me if you actually wanted to,” he snaps back. “But it fits your narrative better when you can storm out, make your big scene, and go enjoy your little power trip. That’s what you do, right? It’s easier than actually being a grown-up and talking things out with me.”

“You’re delusional,” you mutter, brow furrowed.

“I’m delusional?” Simon’s laugh is hollow, his eyes flashing. “Yeah, right. I think you’re the one who’s lost it.”

You feel the words leaving his mouth before he even says them, the familiar sting of what’s next, and it’s like watching a car crash in slow motion. “Like you’re any better than me. Look who the fuck’s talking. Her mother’s daughter.”

There it is. The blow he always lands when he’s desperate to hit you where it hurts.

It’s his ace, the easiest way to throw you off-balance, to bring you down to the level where you feel vulnerable and he can control the conversation again.

You feel an old pain rising to the surface, but instead of letting it show, you smile. It’s not a real smile, but a small, knowing curve of your lips, the kind that hides everything you refuse to let him see. You’re not taking the bait this time.

“She had to go to the hospital again,” you murmur, your eyes on the joint as you bring it to your lips for one last drag. Then, you stub it out on the curb, watching the ember fade. “Thanks for asking.”

Simon’s face falls, the sharp edge of his anger crumbling away. “Shit, babe, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–”

“Oh, you know,” you cut him off with a casual shrug. “It is what it is.”

“Why didn’t you–”

“‘Cause you were balls deep in a goddamn stripper, Simon,” you interrupt, your voice cold and flat. “I can’t rely on you.”

His face twists in frustration, but his eyes soften, and if you weren’t as high as you are, you’d see the little lines of guilt written all over his face. He reaches out to touch your shoulder, his hand hovering for a second before he gently rests it there.

“Baby, you know you can rely on me,” he says softly. “We have our problems, sure, but I always have your back.”

You roll your eyes, but he presses on, his voice earnest. “Look me in the eye and tell me it’s not true.”

Your eyes meet his. You know exactly what he’s referring to.

That one thing he holds onto as proof, as his trump card, the one time he truly came through for you when it mattered most. The time you thought you’d lose everything. If it’s not your histrionic mother he uses against you, it’s this.

“You can’t hold that over my head for the rest of my life,” you say, your voice steady but sharp. “You don’t get to help me when I need you most and then throw it in my face every time things get hard. That’s not how this works.”

His hand falls from your shoulder. He knows you’re right, but he doesn’t want to admit it. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I’m agitated. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

He shifts uncomfortably beside you, his fingers twitching in his lap as he glances away. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter, hesitant. “Is she gonna be alright?”

You nod, but there’s no relief in it. “Mhm.” 

There’s a long pause, heavy and suffocating, like an unseen barrier between you two. The night air is crisp, and your bare legs peeking out beneath your skirt are starting to get cold. Simon breaks the silence first.

“Baby, look at me. Please.” 

You blink slowly, your eyes struggling to focus as everything around you starts to blur. The edges of Simon’s face seem to dissolve into the night, his features soft and indistinct, almost like he’s not really there. But you find him again, his eyes, his nose, his lips, his disheveled hair. He looks…lost. It’s rare to see him this vulnerable, this unsure.

How beautiful.

“Can we go home?”

You don’t hear him, not really. All you hear is the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor echoing in your ears. It’s distant but persistent, a steady pulse that reminds you of things you’d rather forget. Then, a disembodied voice, calmly announcing that, “This could have been prevented. This is your fault.”

The words float through your mind, circling, wrapping tighter and tighter around you.

“Baby?”

You try to focus on Simon’s face again, but it’s hard to think, hard to find the words. Everything feels slow, muffled, like you’re moving underwater.

“I have to go,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, like the words are slipping away from you even as you say them.

He tenses up immediately, his brow furrowing. “What do you mean, ‘go’?”

“It means I’m tired, Simon. It means I can’t do this anymore.”

The silence that follows is deafening, like the world has suddenly come to a standstill, waiting for the inevitable fallout. You can practically feel Simon’s frustration pulsing off him.

But as you tilt your head, your gaze wandering over his face, the familiar lines of anger are there, yes. But beneath that, hidden in the set of his shoulders, in the way his hands rest uncertainly in his lap, you can sense something different. Fear. Real fear that this time, you might actually mean it. That this time, you might actually leave.

He doesn’t say anything as you stand up, your legs trembling beneath you, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst out of your chest. The world spins around you, dizzying, your vision blurred, and you stumble. Instinctively, Simon reaches out, steadying you with his hand.

But you shove him away immediately, your skin burning where his fingers brushed yours. You can’t let him touch you right now. If he touches you, you know you’ll crumble. You know you’ll fall back into his orbit like you always do.

And you may just be unable to afford that anymore.

But then, like a shadow moving through the haze of your high, Simon is suddenly in front of you—close, too close. His presence is disorienting, his words pouring over you before you can even process the distance he’s just closed.

“You don’t mean it,” he says, low and sure, like a statement of fact, as if he’s already decided this for you. His eyes lock onto yours, and it feels like you’re sinking into them, the pull of him as strong as ever, like gravity. He knows how to make you feel small, like your words hold no weight next to his certainty.

“I love you,” he whispers, and the tenderness in his voice makes you shiver, even though your mind screams for you to stay strong. His words wrap around you, weaving through the cracks in your resolve. His face is so close now, his breath warm against your skin, and you can’t tell if it’s the weed or the way he’s looking at you, but everything feels…slower. Softer. Like you’re slipping into a warm, dangerous comfort.

“You know how much I love you, don’t you? Yeah, I messed up, I know I did. But don’t let this ruin us. We’re too good together for that.” His voice is so gentle, hypnotic…irresistible.

“Simon…”

He steps even closer, the space between you disappearing as his hands find yours. His touch is warm, grounding, and despite the cold night air biting at your skin, his presence feels like shelter. He squeezes your hands softly, and your heart stumbles over itself.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he whispers, pleading. “Don’t walk away from us. We’re not perfect, but we belong together. You’re my family, baby. You’re all I have in this godforsaken world. You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like I matter…like I deserve love.”

It’s incredible, really, how easily he can break you down, how he can strip away all your defenses with just a few words. He knows exactly which buttons to push, how to weave his need for you into something that feels like love, something that feels like safety—even though you should know better.

He sees it, too. He sees the way your resolve falters, the way your eyes flicker with that familiar softness, and a satisfied smile curls on his lips. He knows he’s got you. He always knows when he’s won.

“C’mere,” he says gently, his hands sliding up your arms, pulling you toward him, and despite every instinct telling you to run, you let him. You let him hold you, let him wrap his arms around you like a protective shield against the world.

Your body sinks into his, your cheek resting against his chest, and you can hear the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your ear. Each beat is a rhythm you’ve known for years, one that’s soothed you through your darkest moments, even as it’s caused some of them. His scent wraps around you, familiar and intoxicating, like the remnants of a home you’re desperate to return to. You let yourself drown in the warmth of him, in his steady presence that has helped you through so much. His hand strokes the back of your head, his touch soft, soothing.

It’s messed up how right it feels.

How comforting it is to be here in his arms, even when your heart is breaking inside.

“I love you,” Simon whispers again, his breath warm against your temple. “I’m so sorry for everything. I’m so fucking sorry. But you’re all I have, babe. I need you.”

You close your eyes, biting back the sob that threatens to escape. His words seep into your skin, and you want so desperately to believe him. 

You love him. God, do you love him. Even when it hurts. Even when it breaks you. And right now, with his arms around you, you miss him so deeply it feels like a hollow ache in your chest. You don’t want to be without him. He’s the only thing that’s ever felt like family to you. The only person who knows all your scars, all your flaws, and still pulls you close.

“I need you too,” you whisper, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. It’s the truth, as ugly as it is.

Simon holds you tighter, his arms enveloping you, and for now, you let yourself sink into the comfort of it. Into the warmth of his embrace, into the way his hand rubs slow circles on your back like he’s trying to erase all the hurt, all the broken pieces between you.

You let him tell you he loves you, let him soothe you with his words, let him promise you the world, even though deep down, you know you’ll both end up in the same place again.

And before you know it, you’re slipping into the passenger seat, the door closing behind you with a soft, final click.

“You okay, darlin’?”

Joel’s voice pulls you back, the deep rumble of his question cutting through the fog of memories clouding your mind.

You blink, taking in the familiar interior of his car, the hum of the road beneath the tires, the soft glow of the dashboard lights illuminating his profile. The past feels too close, too heavy, pressing on your chest like you’re still stuck in it. But Joel is here, real and solid next to you, grounding you in the present.

“Yeah,” you answer quietly, your voice a little rougher than you mean for it to be. “Just tired.”

You see him glance over at you, concern evident in his eyes, but he doesn’t push. Not this time. He’s trying his hardest not to pry, not when he knows you need space. He just nods and keeps his eyes on the road, his hand resting on the gearshift, close but not touching.

“We’re almost there,” he says after a beat, his voice gentle, steady—so different from the frantic beat of your heart.

You nod, staring out the window at the darkened streets passing by. It’s quiet this late at night, and the drive back to your place feels longer than it should. The weight of the past few days lingers like a shadow, gnawing at the edges of your mind, making it hard to breathe. 

You can still see Laura’s hand on her bump, the way her sad eyes looked at you like you were in the wrong. You can feel Simon’s arms around you, the way he pulled you in even when you should’ve pushed him away. The way you couldn’t help but let him.

But you’re not that person anymore. This is different. Joel’s different.

Your stomach churns, a wave of nausea rising so suddenly it feels like the world tilts. You grip your bandaged hand tighter, shift in your seat, trying to breathe through it, but the sensation intensifies. You can taste the bitterness of the meds in your mouth, the stress squeezing your chest like a vice as cold sweat starts spreading on your skin. The movement of the car only makes it worse, and you know what’s coming.

“Joel…” you manage, your voice strained, barely above a whisper. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Huh?” His head snaps toward you, eyes widening with concern as he sees how uncomfortable you are. “Shit. Hang on.”

Without hesitation, he tightens his grip on the steering wheel and scans the street for a place to pull over. It’s late, but the road is still lined with parked cars, neon signs glowing from nearby buildings. Finally, he spots a small gap along the curb. He turns on his blinker and slows down, smoothly guiding you toward the side of the street.

You fumble desperately with the seatbelt, your fingers trembling and uncoordinated as nausea hits you like a wave. Before you can manage it yourself, Joel leans over, his hands quick but gentle as he clicks the seat belt free. “Here,” he murmurs, and the moment the belt retracts, you’re already reaching for the door handle.

The second the door is open, you lurch out onto the sidewalk, the city air thick with petrichor from the short downpour that made you leave the beach earlier. The nausea hits hard, and you bend over, retching violently onto the pavement. It’s mostly bile, bitter and burning in your throat, and each wave of sickness feels like it’s tearing through your body. You grip the door for support, your hands shaking, your body trembling from the sheer force of it.

You hate this. The vulnerability, the pain, the utter helplessness of it all.

Joel moves quietly, reaching into the glove compartment for tissues. He doesn’t crowd you, just watches carefully, his expression tight with worry. He’s there, but giving you the space you need. After grabbing the tissues, he steps out of the car, making his way around to the back. You can hear him rummaging in the trunk, though your focus remains on trying not to accidentally cough up your lungs. 

“Goddamnit,” you choke out, your voice strained as another wave of nausea forces the last of the bile from your body. It burns, raw and painful, your whole frame trembling as you lean over. Joel is next to you, hovering, trying to be there, but keeping his distance. 

“I hate this,” you whine dramatically, your head pounding as you try catching your breath. 

Once you feel like the worst is over and your stomach is settling, you straighten up and look at Joel through watery eyes. He’s smiling at you sympathetically, taking a step closer to wipe your mouth and chin with a couple of tissues.

You’re about to tell him not to touch you, but the concentrated look on his face and the deft but gentle motion of his fingers put you in a trance. He’s cleaned your mouth and wiped away your tears before you could even say anything.  

“Do you remember how hot I looked in that short red dress?” you murmur, furrowing your brow at the unexpected pain coming from your sore throat. 

“Yeah, how could I not?” Joel chuckles as he opens and hands you the water bottle he had waiting for you in his back pocket.

“Good,” you nod before swishing a mouthful of water, and spitting it out onto the concrete away from you. You take another sip, letting it cool your throat before you cap the bottle and look into Joel’s eyes. “I want you to think of that really hard and forget everything you just saw, okay?”

He just smiles at you, touching your shoulder with his warm hand. “Sweetheart, you’re vastly underestimating my attraction to you. You think a little puke’s gonna deter me? If you weren’t in pain, I’d kiss you no problem.” The way his eyebrow automatically twitches makes you roll your eyes. But it also warms your heart. 

“You’re disgusting,” you say, trying your hardest not to smile. 

“Says the girl who wiped snot off my face and kissed me while I was sweaty and gross after rolling around in bed with a fever. Guess we’re both disgusting, then.” 

“Hm,” is all you manage to get out, a tiny smirk on your face, but it falters just as quickly as you suddenly feel like you’re going to throw up again. 

“No, no, no, please, no,” you murmur, terrified, clutching the open car door for dear life. Your body tenses up, desperate to avoid another wave of sickness. You can’t do this again.

“I’m right here,” Joel whispers softly, his hand coming to rest on your back. He begins rubbing slow, soothing circles, his touch gentle and steady. There's a hint of helplessness in his voice, as if he wishes he could do more, but knows this is all he can offer right now. “It’s okay, just breathe.”

You focus on his hand, the warmth of it cutting through the cold sweat covering your skin. The nausea grips you, but Joel’s steady touch draws you back, grounding you. Your breath steadies, and when the sickness passes, you focus on the warmth of his hand, his touch comforting in a way you didn’t expect.

You’re usually not one for people being around, let alone touching you, when you’re vulnerable like this. The only time you’d allow anyone to get this close is during sex. But that’s different. Especially with Joel.

No one else gets to do the things he does with you. Not that you’ve ever admitted that to him.

He’s seen you at your most unguarded—tied up with your ankles behind your ears, covered in sweat, drooling, crying, bruised from his hands, begging for release, and confessing all the depraved things you’d let him do to you if he’d just finally let you come. He’s seen you laid bare, stripped down to nothing but raw desire and submission. And in those moments, there’s nothing but trust and desire between you two.

It’s freeing. Being able to let go of your body and mind so completely.

But this?

The idea of Joel witnessing you vomiting bile on the side of a dingy city street while your hand is bandaged, your face contorted, and your body shaking like you’ve been dragged through hell…

Not good. Especially after what happened.

You don’t know how to navigate this new territory with him, and the last thing you want is for him to see you weak like this. Not when you’re already feeling fragile.

You’re embarrassed, your cheeks burning from the humiliation of it all. You know this moment will haunt you on sleepless nights when your mind drags up every cringe-worthy memory. But right now, there’s an unexpected comfort in knowing he’s here.

“I think it’s over,” you say quietly, almost afraid to voice it, half-expecting your body to betray you again just because you dared to say it out loud. But it doesn’t. The nausea ebbs away, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. It’s over.

“Okay,” he murmurs, his voice low and reassuring. “Just take your time. Don’t rush it.”

You inhale deeply, drawing in the cool night air. The city smells faintly of petrichor and there’s a soft hum from the distant traffic, cars rolling by on the nearby streets. It all feels surreal, like the world is far away from the small bubble you and Joel are in.

The steady circles he traces on your back continue, grounding you further. You let your eyes close for a moment, soaking in the calm of the moment.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, not looking at him.

He shakes his head, his brow furrowed in worry. “You got nothing to be sorry for. Do you think you’re okay to go on now?”

You nod and swallow hard, the sting in your throat making you wince. You manage a weak, half-hearted smile, though the world still feels off-kilter. “Yeah, I think so. But if I start dry-heaving again, just do us both a favor and push me out of the moving car, okay?”

He smirks, his lips curling in that familiar, teasing way. “As if I could ever deny you something,” he says softly, his humor not quite hiding the concern in his eyes. “Let’s get you home, darlin’.”

He pauses, like he wants to say more, his mouth opening slightly as if searching for the right words, but he holds back. Instead, he just watches you carefully as you make your way back into the passenger seat, waiting until you’re settled before gently closing the door behind you.

You lean your head back against the seat, eyes half-lidded, the weight of everything pressing down on you like a heavy blanket as you continue your way home.

The words are there, inside you, loud, persistent, trying to break free; but you can’t. Where would you even start? What’s the point in revealing more of yourself? What good could come from it?

Nothing. That’s what.

Nothing.

You watch the city lights blur outside the window, your thoughts darker than the night. Your life feels like it’s crumbling, piece by piece, slipping through your fingers no matter how hard you try to hold on. And once again, you know—deep down—it’s your own doing. It always is. No matter how many times you try to make things right, it always ends up the same way.

When Joel finally parks in front of your apartment building, the car idles quietly, and he takes a moment to gather his thoughts. You can feel him looking at you, trying to find the right words. You don’t move, your mind still preoccupied with your own self-doubt.

“We’re here,” Joel says, a soft smile on his lips. He’s trying, you can tell, but you’re too far gone, too lost in your own spiral. When you don’t respond, his smile falters, but he presses on, determined to lift the weight between you.

“I was thinking…” he begins, his voice light. “I could cook for you tomorrow if you’re up for it? I remember I owe you a nice dinner, and no, it’s not just frozen pizza this time. It’s a frozen pizza with a side salad.”

He grins, hoping to coax a smile out of you, some kind of response. But you don’t laugh. You don’t even crack a smile.

Joel clears his throat and shifts slightly in his seat, his fingers drumming anxiously on the steering wheel. He’s trying to pull you out of whatever hole you’ve fallen into, but you can’t meet him halfway. You don’t have the strength.

He looks at you, his heart sinking as he takes in your sad, distant eyes. It’s like you’re not really here, like you’ve drifted somewhere far away, unreachable. How he wishes he could climb inside your mind and pull out whatever it is that’s weighing so heavily on you, take the burden for himself.

“Darlin’?” he repeats softly.

You blink, refocusing, but the smile you give him doesn’t reach your eyes. “Hm?”

“Can I cook for you tomorrow? You could come over to mine after work, or I can come here. Whatever you prefer.” There’s a hopeful smile on his face, a softness in his gaze, and the way he looks at you, almost like a puppy waiting for a treat, makes your stomach twist painfully.

You remember the dinner with Tommy and Maria, cursing yourself silently for agreeing to go. It’s not that you don’t love them—you do—but the thought of sitting through that dinner, of having that conversation with Tommy, feels like a nightmare.

“I can’t tomorrow.”

Joel’s smile falters the slightest bit, but he remains undeterred. “How about Saturday? I’ll plan something nice for us. Something I know you’ll love.”

Oh no.

You want to say it so badly it physically hurts.

You’ve been better, haven’t you? Over the past year or so. You’ve tried—really tried—to keep your cool, to express your feelings in a healthy way, or at least something close to it. You’ve worked hard to stop falling into that old mentality where uncomfortable emotions make you feel cornered and you end up lashing out. You’ve made progress. 

You’re not the same person you used to be. He’s not Simon. You don’t act like this anymore. You’ve outgrown this. Don’t do it. Don’t say–

“You’re free on a Saturday?” 

Joel blinks, the confusion clear on his face. “Yeah, like always when I’m not working,” he says, unsure where this is coming from.

“Oh,” you murmur. “Would’ve thought you already had plans with your, uh…with Jan.”

How subtle.

“I’m not planning on seeing her again,” Joel says simply.

You glance at him. “You should probably tell her that. Didn’t really seem like she knew when she was fondling you under the table.”

Joel exhales deeply and shifts slightly, turning his body toward you, trying to make sure you hear him. “I did tell her, and she does know,” he says firmly. His gaze softens as he looks at you, his voice gentler now. “Sweetheart…I’m not gonna pursue anything with her. And I wouldn’t have agreed to the date if I’d known it would hurt you.”

You shake your head, not wanting to let the conversation go where it’s headed, your thumb rubbing over your wrist brace. “Can we please not talk about this right now?” you murmur, your voice tight, barely holding it together. “I’m sorry for bringing it up. Thank you for driving me home, I’ll see you– “

“I didn’t sleep with her,” Joel interrupts, his voice firm. “We had a good time, but that’s it.”

You blink, furrowing your brow and tilting your head slightly as his words begin to sink in. He watches you, waiting for your response, but when it doesn’t come, he shifts again, trying to close the distance.

“Hey,” Joel says softly, reaching for your left hand, his fingers gently wrapping around yours. He rubs your skin with his thumb, more to soothe himself than you. “I didn’t sleep with her.”

He searches your face, waiting for a reaction, any reaction. But you just sit there, unmoved, your expression frozen in place. There’s no relief, no anger, no hint of anything. Just…nothing.

The silence stretches, and Joel’s heart sinks. He doesn’t know exactly what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Maybe he thought you’d smile, maybe he even hoped you’d fall into his arms, that this would be the moment things would start to feel okay again. But you’re distant, your face unreadable.

His eyes scan yours, searching desperately for something to hold on to, and what he finds hits him like a punch to the gut.

“You don’t believe me.”

You meet his eyes for just a second longer, a sad smile tugging at the corners of your lips before you nervously look away and whisper, “Look, I’m, uh– I’m extremely tired right now and this close to crying, so I’m gonna go upstairs and call it a night, okay?”

But Joel doesn’t let go of your hand. His grip tightens, just a little, his voice strained. “You really don’t believe me. You think I’m lying to you.”

“I don’t– Can we please do this another time?”

“I’d love to, but I feel like it’s important that we–” 

“Joel.”

“–get this sorted out, so you don’t–”

“Joel, please.”

“–keep on thinking I’m a liar. I didn’t know you thought that ab–”

“Jesus Christ,” you snap, your voice trembling with frustration, “don’t you hear what I’m saying?” Without waiting for a response, you push open the car door and step out, the cool air hitting your skin. “I can’t fucking do this right now.”

The door slams shut behind you with a hard thud, cutting through the quiet of the parking lot.

Joel watches you for a moment, taken aback, then quickly follows, stepping out of the car. His eyes are full of concern, his brow furrowed as he watches you pace, but his voice is calm, steady, trying to reach you.

“Darlin’, I do hear you,” he says, taking a cautious step closer. “And I’m sorry, we don’t have to talk about it right now, I just…”

You spin around, exasperated. “You just what?”

“I just wanna know that you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, Joel,” you say, rubbing your temples. “Why in the world wouldn’t I be?”

He opens his mouth, trying to form a response, but before he can say anything, you cut him off, the words spilling out like a dam breaking.

“But it doesn’t even matter, okay? It doesn’t matter if I’m fine or not. I don’t have time to think about it.” Your voice cracks slightly, your throat constricting as you try to keep control. “Because now I gotta get to bed, so I can go to the office early tomorrow, ‘cause afterwards I’ll be sitting at a table with Tommy, who probably fucking hates me now. Do you have any idea how much that fucking sucks?”

Your voice lowers, the vulnerability creeping in despite your efforts to hold it back. “What if he…doesn’t want me in his life anymore?”

Joel shakes his head, vehemently. “Darlin’, that’s nonsense. He’s not mad at you. If anything, he’s mad at me. And I’m sorry for not asking you first, but you gotta understand that I was worried about you and thought this was the best solution.”

“Oh sure, yeah,” you scoff, bitterness lacing your words. “You know so much fucking better than I do. That’s it, right? Yeah, of course. Don’t you get how fucking weird this all is? It’s exactly what I was afraid of. You all talking about me behind my back, pitying me, judging me, and figuring out that you’re better off without me. That I’m not who you thought I was. That I’m not able to give you what you want.”

Joel hears the panic in your voice like he did yesterday, the way it’s rising, how your words are becoming more frantic. He gets the sense you’re not hearing him anymore, not really. You’re caught up in your own head, lost in the whirlwind of your fears. His mind flashes back to Tommy’s words. He can see it now, the way your frustration, your hurt is morphing into something darker, more overwhelming.

God, how he wishes he could just pull you into his arms right now. Hold you, protect you from the weight of everything that’s crushing you. But he knows, deep down, that he’s part of that weight. 

No matter how good his intentions might have been. 

“That’s not what happened at all,” Joel says, his voice calm, measured, even though his heart is racing. “We didn’t talk about you like that. I just needed Tommy to help me figure out where you might be, and I’m so glad he did. It was nice…sitting with you, holding your hand…”

You shake your head. “Good night, Joel.”

“Look, I– I know you’re going through something right now that makes you think I’m insincere,” he blurts out, “but I need you to know that I’m really just trying to help you.”

Your body stiffens, his words hitting a nerve. “I don’t need you to help me,” you snap. “I don’t wanna be your little damsel in distress, that’s not who I am.”

Joel flinches at the bite in your words, but he doesn’t back down. “I know that. And that’s not how I see you. I know you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself.” He pauses, his eyes searching yours, desperate for you to understand.

“But allowing help from the people who love us isn’t about being weak or incapable. You may not see it right now, but I’m on your side. And if anyone’s weak it’s me, ‘cause I can’t stand seeing you in pain like this.”

You sigh deeply and murmur, “I’m gonna go now,” your voice flat as you turn toward your apartment.

Joel steps forward cautiously, not wanting to push too hard, but he can’t just let you walk away without saying more. “I get it, it’s all too much. But please, just…don’t shut me out, okay? Call me if you need anything. Doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the night. I’ll be here.”

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his promise, but you’re too drained to respond. All you can do is nod.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he says softly, his voice full of regret. “I wish I could take some of this off you, make it easier somehow. But I’m not leaving, alright? Not now, not ever. ”

You nod again, your throat too tight to speak, and turn away, walking toward your apartment. Joel watches you go with his hands falling uselessly to his sides, his heart heavy, knowing there’s so much left unsaid, but hoping—praying—you’ll let him know when you’re ready.

Wow, well done.

Sitting on your sofa, you stare blankly at the black TV as the silence of your apartment settles around you, your mind already starting its cruel commentary.

That’s for sure going to make him think you’re a mentally stable person. No, seriously, why wouldn’t he want to be with you?

The thought twists inside you like a knife, but you can’t help it. The voice in your head is relentless, mocking your every move, dissecting your behavior from earlier.

You think you’re slick, don’t you? Pushing him away so you don’t have to face your feelings. Aren’t we way past that?

You sigh deeply as if that would quiet the storm inside you, but it doesn’t. Your self-reproach lingers, heavy and biting.

Still, you drag yourself to the kitchen, forcing yourself to eat a few bites of the leftover pasta sitting in your fridge. It’s tasteless, going down like sandpaper, but you know you need something in your stomach before you can take the painkillers. Your body aches, every muscle tensing under the weight of the unresolved strain still coiled within you.

You wash the food and the pills down with iced tea, grateful for the cold sweetness, because water turns your stomach right now. The pasta, the tea, they’re just fuel—a necessary evil before you can move on and hopefully find some peace in your sleep.

After you’ve eaten, you strip off your clothes and step into the shower, letting the hot water rush over you. You stand there for a while, eyes closed, trying to wash away everything. Joel’s concerned face, the hurt, the frustration, the embarrassment of how you acted. You let the water pound against your skin, hoping it’ll somehow cleanse more than just the sweat and grime from the day.

When you finally step out, you feel a little more like yourself, a little more human. Still shaky, but better. 

By the time you crawl into bed, exhaustion drags you down like an anchor. You pull the blankets tight around you, hoping to find some comfort even though the dread of the day ahead lingers. Your phone is already in your hand, and you pull up Netflix, choosing something mindless to drown out the sound of your own thoughts. The chatter of the show hums in the background, but your mind barely registers it.

Your eyes grow heavier with each passing minute, and the warmth of your bed starts to pull you toward sleep. Everything starts to blur as the fatigue takes over.

But then, just as you’re about to drift off, your propped up phone vibrates loudly against the bedside lamp. The screen lights up, a small notification appearing at the top.

Joel Miller.

Your heart skips a beat, a strange mix of relief and anxiety rising in your chest. You blink away the sleep and swipe the notification open.

It’s a voice message, and the length—four minutes—makes your heart sink. You’re not sure you can handle whatever it is he has to say right now. It feels too heavy, too soon.

Your finger hovers over the play button, your mind running wild with possibilities.

What if something happened to him? What if he’s telling you he doesn’t want to see you anymore? What if you scared him off for good? Why else would the message be so long?

Before you can spiral further, another notification pops up.

Joel: Sleep well, baby 😘 

You blink, staring at his message, and you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. He’s being sweet. Maybe this isn’t what you’re bracing for.

You take a deep breath, your heart still beating a little too fast, and press play.

At first, there’s a small pause, like he’s gathering his thoughts. Then you hear his voice coming through the speaker, soft and gentle, the familiar rasp of it cutting through the quiet of your bedroom.

“Hi darlin’. It’s me, Joel…Miller…obviously.” 

Your smile widens. He’s such a dork.

“I know it’s late…and you’re probably already in bed. But I, uh…I wanted to say something. I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I didn’t want you to go to sleep without hearing this.”

He sounds like he always does, calm, collected, but he’s being careful with his words. You shift under the covers, feeling more awake now, your body attuned to every note in his voice.

“I know you’ve been going through a lot on your own, and I don’t wanna make it worse by pushing or prying where I shouldn’t. But I just want you to know…I’m here. I’m here for you, no matter what. You don’t have to handle it alone, okay?”

There’s a small pause, and you hear him exhale, like he’s letting go of something he’s been holding in for too long.

“I don’t know if I always say the right things, and God knows I’ve messed up plenty…but you mean a lot to me. More than I can put into words right now. And I, uh, don’t expect you to have all the answers. Hell, I don’t even know if I do. But I wanna be there with you, figure it out together…if you’ll let me.”

Another deep breath.

“You’re never not on my mind, sweetheart, and I just…wish you could see yourself the way I see you. I felt it the first time I saw you, you know? You stood there, the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. And then you looked into my eyes. You looked into my eyes and that was it for me.”

Joel’s voice softens even more, almost like he’s afraid you’ll drift off before he’s finished. “I was thinking about Saturday, too. I got something in mind that I think’ll be good for both of us. Nothing big, just…I think you’ll like it.”

There’s a brief silence on the line as if he’s gathering himself, and then you hear it—the faint strum of a guitar. Your breath catches in your throat.

He’s playing for you.

His voice, low and gentle, hums the opening notes of a country tune you’ve never heard before. The sound drifts over you, warm and comforting, like being wrapped in a blanket of soft clouds and something that feels like home.

You close your eyes, letting the music take you, and as Joel begins to sing, his voice carries a depth of emotion that reaches deep inside you. The lyrics flow, full of a quiet tenderness, and you sink into the sound, letting it wash away your troubles:

“I’m just a lonesome traveler, Drifting down this road, But darlin’, when I’m near you, I know I’m not alone.”

You just listen, your heart swelling with the softness of it, with the fact that Joel is doing this for you. Never in a million years did you see this coming. 

The song continues, the melody sweet and simple, his voice lulling you further into a sense of calm. It feels like everything else fades away—the weight of your past, the uncertainty of the future—and all that’s left is this moment, this gentle connection between you and him.

As he reaches the end of the song, his voice drops to an almost-whisper:

“But darlin’, when I hold you, I know I’ve found my home.”

The final note lingers in the air of your bedroom, and for a moment, you just lie there, your heart full, your body completely relaxed. You can barely keep your eyes open now, the edges of sleep tugging at you.

Still, you gather all of your remaining energy to text him back. You need to.

You: I’ll bring snacks on Saturday

You: Ever thought about switching careers btw? Cowboy boots, a hat and you’d make a fortune. Groupies, fame, rich old ladies letting you run wild with their credit cards…

You’ve barely pressed send when Joel responds. 

Joel: Groupies, huh?

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice. Another buzz.

Joel: Nah, sweetheart. My music comes from the heart. It’s only for the people I love. Not for anyone else.

Thank you for reading! previous | Series Masterlist | AO3 | next

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[fresitaskywalker]

Trials - A.S

Warnings: Language 

    Pairing: Slytherin!Anakin Skywalker x Reader (use of y/n)

    Summary: Padmé dragging Reader to trials for emotional support leads to a near death experience.

    Word count: 2.0k

    A/N: It’s here! It’s been awhile since I written so excuse if it’s not perfect, wanted something simple and I also decided not to give the reader a specific house, please enjoy. <3

“C’mon (Y/n), please? I need emotional support!” Padmé begged (Y/n), clasping her hands together, looking at (y/n) with puppy eyes which only earned her an eye roll and a sigh, both of them walking in the corridor, navigating through various students trying to get to their next class which they shared together, History of Magic. “Do you really think so? I think you’d do just fine without me there.” She responded, giving her a quick glance, tightly holding onto their textbook. Padmé had been constantly bringing up Quidditch trials throughout the summer through the letters they’ve sent one another, (Y/n) always encouraged her to try-out but Padmé was always preoccupied with other activities she was involved with until this year, finally being able to try out. There was only one downside though, Padmé was currently begging them to accompany them to trials, claiming she needed her there for support.

(Y/n) loved to encourage and be there for Padmé but they were never a huge fan of Quidditch, not for any reason in particular, they still attended games, supporting their house but that was it and all they were willing to do. They both arrived at their shared classroom, taking a seat beside each other, (Y/n) gently placing her book on her desk in front of her. “Please? I need you there.” Padmé spoke, desperation in her tone which now caused (Y/n) to have second thoughts. (Y/n) sighed, looking at Padmé, “Fine i’ll go.” She finally agreed, Padmé squealing in excitement, throwing herself to (Y/n), hugging her tightly. ‘Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!” Padmé thanked her over and over again, a faint smile on (Y/n)’s face, light laughter escaping her lips as she returned the hug. “Alright! Alright! You better make the team!” (Y/n) said, despite having full faith she would.

Quidditch trials were being held after school, Ravenclaw and Slytherin trials being held the same day, Ravenclaw scheduled first. (Y/n) was already sitting at the bleachers, looking down at Ravenclaw’s Captain gathering everyone who was trying out, Padmé being amongst them. Padmé scanned the bleachers quickly, eyes landing on (Y/n), quickly waving at her. (Y/n) waved back, giving Padmé a thumbs up before Padmé turned her attention to the Captain, commencing the trials. (Y/n) sat in silence, her leg bouncing up and down rapidly, feeling anxious for Padmé. Being too engrossed in the trials, she didn’t notice Slytherin’s Quidditch Captain entering the bleachers, his blue eyes landing on her, immediately making his way to her. 

“Padme’s trying out?” Anakin suddenly spoke, causing (Y/n) to gasp, jumping at the sound of his voice. “You scared me!” She spoke, having been too focused in watching the trials, completely clueless in knowing he had approached her. A chuckle escaped his lips, taking a seat beside them, “Relax, It’s just me” Anakin said, finding her reaction a bit hilarious. (Y/n) and Anakin weren’t best friends necessarily, maybe between acquaintances and friends but they’ve known each other since they first stepped foot inside Hogwarts Express, sitting together in the same compartment, sharing sweets and talking about one another. They would see each other around Hogwarts, Anakin always either nodding, smiling, or waving at her whenever they passed each other in the corridors, very rare for them to converse since people were always around Anakin, despite that, (Y/n) always held a soft spot for Anakin, he was the first friendship she formed within the wizarding world, being introduced to basically a whole new different world was scary and somehow, Anakin made it feel less terrifying. Anakin was very fond of (Y/n), always making sure to acknowledge her whenever they both passed each other, his eyes lingering on her even after she looked away, his mind clouded with thoughts of her. Meeting (Y/n) was probably the best thing that could’ve happened when he stepped foot in Hogwarts Express to him, they both instantly clicked, immediately getting to know each other, buying sweets from the Trolley, he felt comfortable with her, feeling a sense of relief whenever their eyes found each other.

“You caught me off guard!” (Y/n) said, taking a deep breath, looking at him for a couple seconds before looking back at the area, seeing everyone gather again, trials coming to an end. “She’ll get in, she’s got spirit” Anakin said, his gaze following (Y/n)’s, noticing she’s watching Padmé like a hawk. (Y/n) sighed, weight being lifted off her shoulders, although she believed in Padmé, hearing it from someone who’s Captain and has plenty experience with Quidditch was promising. “You aren’t trying out this year?” Anakin asked, shifting his gaze to her. (Y/n) laughed, nodding her head, “Absolutely not, not my thing whatsoever.” She replied, gathering her things, standing up the minute she saw Padmé leaving the arena along with the others. “I have to meet with Padmé, see you around, Anakin.” (Y/n) waved goodbye, in a hurry as she wanted to know if Padmé got in or not, hearing Anakin call after her but assumed it was just him saying goodbye.

(Y/n) walked quickly to where the Ravenclaw changing rooms were, hoping to hear good news. She made it, entering the girl’s changing room without a care, eyes scanning the room in search of Padmé, seeing her packing up her stuff, quickly making her way to her, “Did you get in?!” she asked, startling Padmé as she wasn’t expecting for (Y/n) to enter the changing room, gathering whatever was left of her belongings. A pout formed on Padmé’s lips, (Y/n) beginning to frown when Padmé’s expression suddenly changed, smiling. “You’re looking at Ravenclaw’s new chaser” Padmé announced, (Y/n) breaking into a smile, engulfing Padmé in a hug, being over the moon for her friend making the team. Once Padmé finished gathering her belongings, they both walked out of the changing rooms, Padmé talking about how she felt and her thoughts as (Y/n) only really knew the basics and even so, she didn’t remember them that well. As they continued walking, (Y/n) began to slowly feel as if she forgot something, sliding her bag off her shoulders quickly as she rummaged through her bag, a groan escaping her lips when it finally dawned on her, “Sorry, Padmé, I must’ve forgotten my textbook up at the bleachers” (Y/n) spoke, sighing as she put her backpack back on, “I’ll see you around, yeah?” she said, both of them quickly bid each other goodbye as (Y/n) scurried back, mentally cursing at herself along the way for being forgetful. 

Just as (Y/n) was about to head to the bleachers when she noticed Anakin by his lonesome, packing up as Slytherin trials were over. Perhaps when she thought he was saying goodbye, he was actually trying to let her know she forgot her textbook? Wouldn’t hurt to ask. “Anakin!” she called out, jogging over to him, immediately getting a reaction from him as he quickly turned, a smile on his face, his broom in hand. “Finally realized you forgot something?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. (Y/n) nodded, sighing, “My textbook, have you seen it?” she asked, Anakin nodding as he turned around, picking up her textbook from the ground, lifting it up for her to see. A sigh of relief escaped her lips, reaching out to grab it but Anakin quickly pulled his hand back, a puzzled look on (Y/n)’s face, standing there empty handed. “I will give it back to you if…” he paused for a second, a smirk on his face, “ You play a round of Quidditch with me.” he said, looking at her. (Y/n) laughed, immediately chopping it off as Anakin pulled some sort of joke, trying once more to grab her textbook only for Anakin to take a step back, groaning at his actions. “C’mon..” she mumbled, crossing her arms, “You know I don’t know how to play” she said, already annoyed at his tactics. “Let me teach you then.” he said, “Either that or I’ll throw it in the Black Lake, your choice.” he simply shrugged, a look of disbelief on her face as he basically gave her an ultimatum. She stared for him for a while, taking his threat seriously, she simply nodded, earning a satisfied smile from Anakin as he began by explaining how the game worked.

(Y/n) and Anakin stood in front of each other, brooms between their legs, (Y/n)’s hands gripping tightly onto her broom. One of Anakin’s hands gripped the stick of his broom while the other held onto the golden snitch, looking at (Y/n). “Are you ready?” he asked, anticipation bubbling inside him. “No but do I have a choice?” she asked, Anakin simply nodding his head ‘no’. Anakin opened his hand, the golden snitch on the palm of his hand, its wings beginning to spread, fluttering almost instantly as it flew away quickly from his palm and towards the arena, both (Y/n) and Anakin quickly flying towards the golden snitch, the goal being to catch it. Adrenaline pumped through her veins mixed in with fear, Anakin immediately gained more speed than her “You must really not want that textbook, (Y/n)!” he yelled out at her, turning his head to look at her briefly, a mischievous look on his face. (Y/n) couldn’t help but laugh, loosening up, the fear now being replaced with determination, quickling ganging up on Anakin. It was basically Ring Around The Rosy, both of them flying all over the arena trying to catch the snitch, pushing and shoving each other lightly as to not hurt one and other, both of them laughing, (Y/n) was surprisingly enjoying herself, heart swelling whenever she’d hear his laugh, not getting enough of it. (Y/n) was at arms length from the snitch, the taste of victory on her tongue, extending her arm, a loose grip on her broom as she was determined to catch it. Anakin saw just how close she was to catching the snitch, not wanting to admit defeat as he quickly gained up on her, both of them neck and neck, (Y/n) being too focused on trying to grab the snitch to notice Anakin.

Anakin shoved himself onto Amber, shoulders colliding but he had underestimated just how rough he was, (Y/n) losing balance immediately, no longer straddling her broom, beginning to fall. Her heart sank as fear consumed her once more, the feeling of falling absolutely terrifying her, trying her hardest to grab her broom but failing. “(Y/n)!” Anakin yelled, completely forgetting about the snitch, immediately acting fast and flying to her, the look of horror on her face making his heart heavy with guilt. Anakin reached out for her, (Y/n) being quick to grab his arm, straddling his broom behind him, her arms snaking around his torso and tightly holding onto him, face buried on his back, her eyes shut as she felt nauseous, feeling as if she saw how close she was to landing on the floor she might throw up. 

Anakin tried landing gently but due to his panicked state, he landed roughly, both of them being knocked off the broom, rolling onto the field. Anakin immediately stood up, clumsily making his way to her as she just laid on her back, breathing heavily. “(Y/n)! Are you okay? Fuck i’m so sorry I–” He was cut off by the sound of her laughter, a look of disbelief on his face before also breaking out into a laugh, a wave of relief hitting him, laying beside her, both of them staring up at the sky, she was okay. Their laughter died down after a while, a smile on both of their faces as they just stared up at the sky, the sound of birds chirping now filling the air, their shoulders touching. “I hope you know you owe me for almost killing me.” (Y/n) spoke, turning her head to face him, slightly admiring his side profile. Anakin turned to face her, “Wanna get butterbeer at Hogsmeade?” he asked, basically asking her out, hoping she’d accept.

“It’s a date.”

[pdriesta]

a love like this — 2

an — a series of blurbs based on the main couple of "something real”. if you’re someone that read it, let me know if you have requests <3

masterlist

match days always felt electric. the stadium buzzed with energy, the stands filling up with excited fans, and the players moving about with a kind of nervous anticipation. y/n was always the first to arrive, making sure everything was set, from the physio rooms to the pitchside equipment. there was a routine to it, a rhythm she’d grown accustomed to. but no matter how busy the day got, there was one thing she always looked forward to—seeing jude before the game.

it had become their ritual. no matter what, he would always find her before kickoff, even if it was just for a few stolen seconds.

she stood in the hallway of the facility, away from the noise of the locker room, waiting for him like always. it was their little moment, their quiet ritual before every game. when jude finally appeared, already in his kit, his eyes lit up the second he saw her.

without a word, he closed the distance between them, arms wrapping around her waist as he pulled her close. she tilted her head up, meeting his gaze, and he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. it was always quick, always gentle, but enough to calm her nerves and fill him with that final bit of confidence.

“be safe, yeah?” she whispered, her hand resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

he smiled down at her, his thumb brushing the side of her hip. “always. for you.”

he kissed her again, just a soft brush of lips, before pulling back, his fingers lingering on her waist for a moment longer before he let go. “i’ll see you after,” he murmured, a hint of warmth in his voice.

“good luck,” she whispered as he jogged off, leaving her standing there with a smile tugging at her lips, her heart a little lighter.

the game started fast, with real madrid dominating possession, and jude was in the thick of it, as always. y/n watched from the sidelines, her heart in her throat every time he got near the ball. she loved watching him play—his skill, his passion, his fire—it was magnetic. but it also made her anxious, especially on days like this when the stakes were high, and the tackles were hard.

then, it happened.

one minute, jude was sprinting down the pitch, weaving through defenders, and the next, he was on the ground, clutching his shoulder after a harsh tackle. y/n’s heart stopped. everything around her went blurry, the crowd’s roar fading into a dull hum as she watched him writhe in pain.

gerard was already moving, rushing out onto the pitch to tend to him. y/n stood frozen, her breath caught in her throat as she watched them help jude off the field, his face contorted in pain, his arm hanging limply by his side.

he was subbed off immediately, and her stomach twisted in knots. she wanted to be by his side, but her job kept her pitchside for the rest of the game. her mind raced, heart hammering in her chest as she tried to focus on the match, but it was impossible. all she could think about was him, the pain he must be in, the uncertainty of the injury.

the final whistle blew, and real madrid won, but y/n barely registered it. she sprinted toward the tunnel, her feet moving faster than her mind. all she cared about was jude.

she found him in the medical room, sitting on the bench, his face pale and strained. his left shoulder was wrapped tightly, and he winced every time he moved.

“jude,” she breathed, rushing to his side. her hands hovered over him, unsure where to touch without hurting him further. “how bad is it?”

he looked up at her, offering a weak smile. “gerard says it’s not dislocated. but i need scans to be sure.”

y/n nodded, her heart heavy with worry. she knew she had to stay professional, but the sight of him in pain, the uncertainty of it all—it was too much.

“i’ll take care of you,” she whispered, her fingers gently brushing his knee as if to ground herself.

jude nodded, but she could see the strain in his eyes, the way he clenched his jaw to hide the pain. it broke her heart to see him like this.

after weeks, y/n and jude finally found the time for themselves in between their busy schedules for a date night. it had been a perfect night—one of those rare moments where their schedules aligned and they could just be them, away from the pitch, the pressure, and everything else. dinner had been slow, intimate, filled with teasing looks across the table, hands brushing as they shared plates. jude was in one of his moods, that playful, flirty side of him that always made y/n blush even when she tried to act unaffected.

by the time they made it back to his apartment, the air between them had shifted from soft flirtation to something far more heated. jude barely got the door shut before he was on her, his hands wrapping around her waist, pulling her flush against him as his lips met hers in a kiss that was both passionate and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to savor her.

y/n melted into him, her arms looping around his neck as she kissed him back just as fervently, her fingers slipping through the short curls at the nape of his neck. she could feel his need in the way he held her close, like he didn’t want to let go for a second. his lips trailed down to her jawline, pressing light, teasing kisses that made her breath hitch and her body tense in anticipation.

“i missed this,” he murmured against her skin, his voice low and husky as his hands wandered to her hips, tugging her even closer.

“me too,” she whispered, her voice breathless as she leaned into his touch. everything about being with him felt right, like they had found this perfect rhythm together. the world outside faded away when they were like this.

before she could process what was happening, jude bent down and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her towards the bedroom with a grin that spoke of mischief and desire. y/n let out a soft gasp, her hands instinctively clutching his shoulders for balance, but that’s when she felt it—the slightest shift in his expression. his grin faltered for a split second, a tiny grimace of pain that was gone almost as quickly as it came.

but she caught it.

“jude…” she said softly, pulling back just enough to see his face. “are you okay?”

he stopped walking, still holding her but not moving forward. for a moment, his playful expression dropped, and she could see it—the flicker of discomfort in his eyes, the tension in his jaw. her gaze immediately flickered to his shoulder, the one that had been injured just a month or two ago, the one that was still wrapped during matches. the same shoulder he was meant to be careful with, even though the doctors had cleared him to play under strict precautions.

“it’s nothing, love,” he said quickly, his tone light, brushing it off as if it were no big deal. but the way his body tensed gave him away.

y/n frowned, her hand gently cupping his cheek as she searched his face. “jude, don’t lie to me. you grimaced.”

“grimaced?” he repeated, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he tried to steer the conversation back to their usual banter. “nah, i don’t think i know what that word means. you must be imagining things.”

“jude.” her voice was firmer this time, her brow furrowed with concern. “if you’re in pain, you need to tell me.”

he set her down gently, his arms still loosely wrapped around her waist as he leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. “it’s fine, y/n. i promise,” he said, his voice softer now, more sincere. “it’s just a little sore. nothing to worry about.”

she opened her mouth to argue, but before she could get a word out, he kissed her again—slow and deliberate, his lips moving against hers with a tenderness that made her mind go blank. her heart fluttered, and just like that, her focus shifted. her hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing hers in a way that made her forget all about his shoulder for a moment.

he pulled back slightly, just enough to murmur against her lips, “you’re worrying too much again, love.”

her body betrayed her, melting into him even though her brain was still trying to hold on to the thread of concern. “i’m serious, jude…”

but he kissed her again, this time more insistent, his hands slipping under the hem of her shirt, sending shivers down her spine. “how about you stop worrying… and let me take care of you tonight,” he whispered, his voice dripping with seduction.

y/n’s breath hitched, her heart racing as his words settled over her. she could feel the warmth of his hands on her skin, the way his touch made her mind foggy with desire. she wanted to press him further, to make him admit if he was really in pain, but the way he was looking at her—the intensity in his gaze, the way his lips ghosted over hers—it made her forget everything else.

he grinned down at her, sensing her hesitation fading. “there she is,” he teased, his thumb brushing lightly over her bottom lip. “you’re always overthinking, y/n. i’m fine.”

she bit her lip, still feeling a flicker of worry in her chest, but she couldn’t resist the pull of him—the way his presence consumed her, the way he could make her forget all her concerns with just a look. he’s fine, she told herself. he wouldn’t hide something from me.

and just like that, jude had successfully distracted her, his teasing words and gentle touches working their magic. he leaned down to kiss her again, his lips moving over hers with a passion that left her breathless. her hands roamed over his chest, and before she knew it, they were back to where they had started—lost in each other, in the heat of the moment.

but deep down, somewhere beneath the desire, a small voice still whispered in the back of her mind, reminding her of that fleeting grimace, of the tension in his body. it wasn’t enough to pull her out of the moment now, but it lingered, waiting for a quiet moment to resurface.

the atmosphere in the physio room was different when it was just the two of them. jude was lying on the table, his shirt tossed aside, muscles on full display as y/n stood beside him, clipboard in hand. she tried to keep her professional demeanor intact, but it was difficult with how aware she was of his body, the familiar contours of his skin, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. she couldn't help it—their last night together still played on loop in her mind, and the flicker of concern from that grimace gnawed at her more than she wanted to admit.

"alright, let's start," she said, her voice steady but her mind racing. she avoided eye contact, focusing on the basics as she gently prodded his uninjured arm first. "raise this arm for me."

jude smirked, lifting his right arm with ease, the muscles flexing under his skin. "easy."

"good." she made a note on her clipboard, moving to his injured shoulder, her heart skipping a beat when she saw the slight tension in his face, even though he was trying hard not to show it. he’s still in pain, she thought, but she stayed silent.

“now the other one,” she instructed, keeping her tone as even as possible.

he raised his left arm, but only halfway before his movement faltered. y/n’s eyes darted to his shoulder, catching the subtle wince that he tried to mask behind a grin.

“see? not too bad,” he said casually, dropping his arm back down as if the strain wasn’t obvious.

but she saw it. he’s hiding something.

“jude,” she said softly, stepping closer, her hand reaching out to his shoulder. her fingertips brushed his skin, and she could feel the tightness there, the tension in the muscles. “does it hurt?”

“nah,” he shrugged, leaning back against the table with a playful glint in his eyes, “i think you’re just looking for an excuse to touch me.”

she rolled her eyes, trying to keep her focus on the task at hand, but his teasing always had a way of getting under her skin. “i’m serious. don’t joke about this.”

“oh, come on,” jude replied, flashing her that boyish grin that had her heart racing even when she didn’t want it to. “i’m fine, love. you’re just being overprotective.”

“i have to be overprotective,” she countered, biting her lip as she stepped back, her hand falling away from him. “it’s my job.”

“mm, is that what this is? just work?” his voice dropped to a lower, more intimate tone, and the way he was looking at her—soft, smoldering—made her stomach flip. “because i could’ve sworn you liked touching me.”

her breath hitched, a blush creeping up her neck as she tried to focus on the clipboard in her hands. “jude.”

“what? i’m just saying,” he chuckled, sitting up on the table, his arm moving a little too freely for someone supposedly recovering. “maybe i should get hurt more often if it means you’ll fuss over me like this.”

she glared at him, though her lips twitched with a smile. “that’s not funny.”

“oh, but you’re smiling.” he leaned forward, and before she could step away, his hand caught her wrist, pulling her gently toward him. “c’mon, love. you don’t have to worry so much. i’m fine. promise.”

y/n could feel her resolve weakening as his thumb rubbed soft circles into her skin, his touch warm and comforting. her eyes flickered to his shoulder, still aching, still not fully healed. she knew she should be focusing on the session, on the way his range of motion wasn’t what it should be, on the tightness that was still there.

but jude had this way of making everything else melt away, of making her forget, just for a moment, how serious things were.

“you’re not fine, jude,” she said softly, her voice barely a whisper as her hand came up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under her palm. “i can tell.”

he sighed, leaning his forehead against hers, his breath warm on her skin. “maybe it’s not perfect yet,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, more honest. “but it’s getting better. i’m fine, y/n.”

she closed her eyes, torn between her concern as a professional and her feelings as his girlfriend. her fingers brushed lightly over his skin, feeling the tension there, the strain he was trying so hard to hide.

“you don’t have to act tough with me, jude,” she murmured, opening her eyes to meet his gaze. “i know when you’re hurting.”

he looked at her for a long moment, his eyes softening as he reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “you’re too good to me, you know that?” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “always worrying.”

“because i love you,” she said quietly, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

jude’s eyes softened even more, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “and i love you too, which is why you don’t need to worry. i’m okay.”

she wanted to believe him, wanted to trust that everything was fine, that he wasn’t still in pain. but the way he winced when he thought she wasn’t looking, the way his shoulder still felt tense under her fingers—it all told her a different story.

but for now, she let it slide, letting herself melt into his touch as his lips found hers again, soft and tender, stealing her breath away.

she knew she couldn’t let it go forever, but for tonight, she let herself believe him.

it was late. the kind of late where the office was eerily quiet, the hum of the computer the only sound in the physio room. y/n sat at her desk, eyes fixed on the screen in front of her. she had been staring at jude’s file for what felt like hours, her mind racing as she scrolled through the details of his last scan, the diagnosis staring back at her like a punch to the gut.

rotator cuff strain. partial tear. possible surgical intervention required.

she blinked, her heart pounding in her chest as the reality of it settled in. her hands hovered over the keyboard, scrolling through the notes, the recommendations from the team doctor, the detailed suggestions for further treatment.

he needs surgery.

it was there in black and white, clear as day, but somehow—somehow—she had missed it. or rather, she had overlooked it. she hadn’t wanted to see it. jude had been so convincing, so adamant that he was fine, that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. and she had trusted him. she had wanted to trust him. he’s fine, he’d said, it’s just precautionary.

but now, staring at the report, she felt her stomach twist with guilt. how had she let this slip by? how had she let herself believe that everything was okay when deep down, she knew something wasn’t right? she had seen the signs—the grimace when he moved, the tightness in his shoulder, the way he brushed off her concern night after night. but she had let it go because she loved him, because she wanted to believe that he wouldn’t hide something so important from her.

he lied. maybe not outright, but he hadn’t told her the full truth. and now, the weight of that omission was crushing her. she scrolled through the file again, her eyes tracing the doctor’s notes, the suggestion for surgical intervention, the warning about potential long-term damage if left untreated.

how could he do this?

y/n felt a lump rise in her throat, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk as the reality of it all hit her. jude wasn’t just playing through pain—he was risking everything. his career, his health, his future. and he hadn’t told her. he hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her the truth.

her mind flashed back to their last session, the way he had flirted with her, teased her, tried to distract her. she had known something was off. she knew something was wrong, but she had let herself be swept up in his charm, in the way he made her feel, in the love that had grown between them over the past year.

how could i have been so blind?

her fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating before she clicked out of the file. she leaned back in her chair, staring at the screen as the weight of it all settled in. jude needed surgery. he needed treatment. and he had kept it from her, knowing what it could mean for his career, for his body, for them.

and now, she was going to have to confront him about it.

y/n closed her laptop, her hands shaking as she stood from her desk. she could feel the anger bubbling up inside her, but more than that, she felt hurt. he had lied to her—he had put his career ahead of his health, ahead of their relationship, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal.

she had to talk to him. she had to make him understand how serious this was, even if it meant they would argue, even if it meant pushing him in ways she didn’t want to.

because if she didn’t… she wasn’t sure what would happen.

the door clicked shut behind jude as he walked into his home, his shoulders stiff with frustration, pain laced through his every movement. y/n stood by the kitchen counter, her arms crossed, waiting. she had thought about this moment all day, how to approach it without letting her emotions get the best of her. but now, seeing him walk in like this—defensive, agitated—it all fell apart. the worry she’d bottled up turned into something sharper, something more painful.

"we need to talk," she started, her voice tense, the calm she wanted nowhere to be found.

jude's eyes flicked up, already guarded. "about what?" he muttered, shrugging out of his jacket, wincing as his shoulder strained.

her heart clenched at the sight of him still in pain. she took a breath, trying to keep it together, but it was no use. "about your shoulder," she said, stepping forward, the words tighter than she meant. "you haven’t healed, jude. i saw your scans."

he froze, his eyes locking on hers, that flicker of guilt quickly masked by frustration. "i’m fine."

"you’re not fine," she snapped, her voice rising despite herself. "you need surgery, and you’ve been lying to me."

“i didn’t lie,” jude shot back, his voice louder now, raw with his own frustration. "i just… didn’t tell you."

"exactly!" she cut in, her voice shaking with the intensity of everything she’d been holding back. “you didn’t tell me because you knew what i’d say. you knew i’d tell you to stop playing, to take care of yourself.”

“and miss everything i’ve worked for?" he scoffed, disbelief in his voice. "the season, the champions league, euros—you want me to throw all that away?"

"i am not suggesting for you to 'throw it all away'. i want you to put yourself first and make the right decision especially, if it means not ruining your body. if it means being able to play for years instead of burning out now. jude, i’m not just your girlfriend here—I’m your physio. i’m telling you, you’re risking everything by pushing this." her voice broke, her heart slamming against her ribs as the words spilled out.

he stared at her, his jaw tight, his defenses raised. "you’re always telling me what to do. it’s like i can’t make a single decision without you hovering over me, like i’m incapable or something."

her chest tightened at his words, the sting sharper than she expected. "hovering?" she repeated, her voice trembling. "i’m trying to help you, jude. because i love you. because i can’t stand to see you hurt.”

"i didn’t ask you to help,” he muttered, frustration boiling over. “i didn’t ask you to go through my files or make choices for me. i can take care of myself.”

"clearly not!" she shouted, the dam finally breaking. "you’re pretending everything’s fine when it's not! you're acting like this is nothing, but you're going to ruin yourself. is that what you want?"

he looked at her, eyes blazing. "what do you want me to do, y/n? sit out the most important games of my life and let everyone down?"

"i want you to listen to me,” she said, her voice soft but pleading. "i want you to trust me when i say that pushing through this pain will ruin you. i want you to care about your health enough to stop."

“and what if i can’t?" his voice dropped, the anger in his tone replaced by something harder, colder. “what if i can’t stop? what if chasing my dream means pushing through this?"

“then maybe you need to figure out what matters more,” she whispered, the tears she’d been holding back finally breaking free. “your career or your future.”

he scoffed, shaking his head. "you’re blowing this out of proportion."

“i’m saying,” he bit out, “that sometimes it feels like you don’t trust me to make my own decisions. like you’re constantly babying me. and it’s—” he broke off, rubbing his face with his good hand, exhaling sharply. “it’s suffocating.”

y/n took a step back, the weight of his words settling deep in her chest. suffocating. he felt suffocated by her. by her care, her concern. all this time, she thought she was protecting him, looking out for him, but now it felt like every effort she made was being thrown back in her face.

the words hit her like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of her. for a moment, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. all she could do was stare at him, the man she loved, the man she thought she knew. and in that moment, it all became too much.

her throat tightened, tears threatening to spill, but she swallowed them down, forcing herself to stand tall. “i’m suffocating you,” she repeated quietly, her voice hollow. “i’m trying to help you, jude. because i love you. because i don’t want to see you hurt.”

“i never asked for your help,” he shot back, his voice harsh, cold. “i didn’t ask you to go through my file. i didn’t ask you to act like i can’t make my own choices.”

she flinched at the coldness in his tone, her heart breaking a little more with every word. “so, what? you think i’m overstepping because i care? because i want to make sure you’re not ruining your career?”

“ruining my career?” he echoed, his voice rising. “i’m not ruining anything, y/n. i’m chasing my dream, and you’re trying to take that away from me.”

“i’m not trying to take it away from you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “i’m trying to save you.”

“save me?” jude scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “i don’t need saving. i’m fine.”

“you’re not fine!” she shouted, the dam breaking as her frustration, her fear, her love for him poured out in waves. “you’re hurt, jude, and you’re pretending everything’s okay when it’s not! you’re risking everything for a few more games, and you’re going to get yourself hurt even worse if you keep pushing like this.”

“so what?” he snapped, his eyes blazing with anger. “what do you want me to do, huh? just sit on the sidelines and watch while everyone else plays? let my team down? let my country down?”

“i want you to take care of yourself,” she said, her voice soft, pleading now. “i want you to trust me when i say that you need to stop. not just because i’m your physio, but because i’m the person who loves you.”

“well, maybe i don’t need you to love me like that,” he bit out, his voice cold and cutting. “maybe i don’t need you to hover over me and make decisions for me.”

“fine,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “if you think i’m suffocating you, then i’ll stop.”

she turned, grabbing her bag, her hands shaking as she stuffed her things inside. jude’s eyes widened as he realized what she was doing, his anger fading into panic.

“y/n, wait—”

“no,” she cut him off, her voice shaking. “i swore to myself i would never allow myself to be treated like this again. i love you, jude, but i’m not going to stand here and watch you ruin yourself, and i’m sure as hell not going to let you treat me like this just because i care.”

“y/n—” he reached for her, but she stepped back, her chest tightening with every breath.

“i can’t stay here and watch you destroy yourself. if you don’t want my help, if you don’t want my love, then i'll give you space.” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

and with that, she turned and walked out the door, leaving him standing there, speechless, the weight of his words crashing down around him.

the next morning, y/n moved through the facility like a ghost, her steps deliberate but light, her gaze averted from every familiar face. her usual routine felt foreign, each task tinged with the sting of their argument. it was as if her entire world had shifted on its axis, and now she was navigating through a blur of faces and whispers.

jude's teammates, ever observant, noticed the shift. they gathered in their usual spot in the locker room, exchanging glances as they watched jude, who was trying and failing to focus on a stack of recovery reports.

“hey, jude,” eddie called out, nudging him with a grin. “you and y/n good? you two look like you’ve had a rough night.”

jude stiffened, the question hitting him like a ton of bricks. “we’re fine,” he replied quickly, his voice betraying the unease he felt. “just had a disagreement. nothing to worry about.”

“a disagreement?” aurélien chimed in, raising an eyebrow. “you two are usually joined at the hip. if you’re having trouble, maybe it’s time to sort it out.”

jude sighed, pushing his papers aside. “it’s nothing. she’s probably just busy.”

his teammates exchanged skeptical looks but let the matter drop, knowing when to press and when to let things be. jude, however, couldn’t focus on anything but the hollow feeling in his chest, the gnawing regret of their last conversation.

jude had never seen y/n truly angry at him. the realization that this was their first real fight gnawed at him as he navigated the day, trying to focus but constantly distracted by thoughts of her. their relationship had always been easy—light and warm, full of affection and laughter. but now, the air between them felt thick, and the tension was something he didn’t know how to fix.

he’d never been in this situation with her before. y/n was usually so calm, understanding, always meeting him with patience. but today, she was distant, her posture closed off, her face a mask of professionalism that made him feel like he was a stranger.

when he finally spotted her across the training facility, he didn’t think twice. his legs carried him toward her before he even had a plan of what to say. all he knew was that he couldn’t stand this distance any longer.

“y/n,” he called out, his voice hesitant, unsure.

she didn’t stop immediately, her steps faltering only when he reached her side. when she turned to face him, her expression was unreadable, the usual warmth in her eyes replaced by something much colder.

“jude, i’m working,” she said, her voice clipped. “what do you need?”

his heart sank at the tone, but he pushed forward, desperate to get her to soften. he had no idea how to navigate this, how to reach her when she was this upset with him. so, he did what he always did when things were tense—he tried to charm his way out of it.

“i just wanted to see you,” he said, giving her the smile that usually made her laugh. “can’t go a day without your pretty face, you know?”

she stared at him, unblinking, her lips set in a tight line. no smile. no softening of her features.

“jude,” she said quietly, her voice low and firm. “this isn’t the time for jokes.”

he swallowed hard, feeling the sting of her words but still unsure how to break through the walls she’d put up between them. he wasn’t used to this—wasn’t used to y/n being angry, wasn’t used to feeling like he couldn’t fix it with a few sweet words or a touch.

“i’m sorry,” he said quickly, stepping closer, his hand brushing her arm gently. “about last night. i know i messed up. i didn’t mean to hurt you, y/n. i hate this… i hate us being like this.”

she exhaled sharply, her eyes flickering with something close to frustration. “this isn’t about you 'hurting my feelings', jude. do you really think that’s what this is about?”

he blinked, taken aback. he’d thought—well, yes, he’d thought it was about her being upset with him, about her being hurt by the way he’d reacted. wasn’t that what this was about? how he treated her?

“isn’t it?” he asked, his voice uncertain.

y/n shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “no, jude, it’s not about my feelings. it’s about your health. i’m your physio. i have a responsibility to make sure you don’t ruin your body, and you’re ignoring every piece of advice i’ve given you. you’re being reckless, and i can’t… i can’t just sit by and watch you destroy yourself.”

her voice cracked slightly at the end, and for a moment, jude saw the worry beneath her anger. but it didn’t make him feel better—in fact, it made him feel worse. because this wasn’t just about them. this wasn’t something he could fix with an apology or a promise to do better.

“i’m fine, y/n,” he insisted, trying to reach for her again, but she stepped back, putting more space between them. “i don’t need surgery—i’m managing, i’m playing. everything’s under control.”

“under control?” she repeated, her tone dripping with disbelief. “you’re grimacing every time you lift your arm, jude. i've seen it/ you’re not fooling anyone.”

he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, frustration starting to bubble up inside him. he hated this—hated feeling like he was losing her because of something as stupid as his shoulder.

“what do you want me to say?” he asked, his voice tinged with frustration now. “i’m sorry, okay? i’m sorry i hurt your feelings. i didn’t mean to—”

“this isn’t about my feelings!” she snapped, cutting him off, her eyes flashing. “you still don’t get it, do you? this is about you taking care of yourself. it’s about you trusting me to help you, to do my job. but you’re not. you’re hiding things from me, you’re brushing off your injury like it’s nothing, and i can’t… i can’t be a part of that.”

he stared at her, the full weight of her words settling in his chest like a stone. she was pulling away—really pulling away. not just emotionally, but from her role as his physio. and that… that felt like losing her entirely.

“you’re saying you don’t want to work with me anymore?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

y/n’s expression softened, but only slightly. “i’m saying i can’t work with you if you’re not going to be honest with me. i’ve already told gerard that he’ll be handling your sessions from now on.”

the words hit him like a punch to the gut. he hadn’t expected this—not from her. not from the woman who had been his constant support, his anchor through everything. he felt the sting of betrayal, even though he knew, deep down, that she was right.

“y/n, please,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “don’t do this. don’t push me away.”

her gaze softened, but there was still a steely resolve in her eyes. “i’m not pushing you away, jude. i’m setting a boundary. i love you, but i can’t watch you do this to yourself. not as your physio, and not as someone who loves about you.”

and with that, she turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, his heart aching with the weight of everything unsaid.

the week dragged on in silence, y/n tucked away in her office, trying to drown herself in work. she thought if she focused hard enough on the files in front of her, she could ignore the ache gnawing at her chest. it had been a more than a week since their argument—since jude had stubbornly refused the surgery again, and since she had drawn a line between them, choosing her own peace over watching him destroy his body.

but the weight of it all was still there, pressing down on her, making every moment feel heavier. she missed him. she hated this coldness, the distance that felt so unnatural between them. they'd never fought like this before—never been at odds for more than a few playful moments. and now, it felt like an ocean was between them, one that neither of them seemed to know how to cross.

the sound of footsteps approaching her desk barely registered at first. she stayed focused on the computer screen, her fingers moving swiftly over the keys, until the familiar scent of fresh coffee hit her.

she didn’t look up.

“hey, love,” jude’s voice was soft, tentative. he placed a travel thermos in front of her—the one she always used, her favorite color, with the latte she liked to have when she worked late. “i made your latte this morning. figured you’d be needing one.”

her fingers stilled, but she didn’t raise her eyes to meet his. instead, she kept her gaze trained on the screen, willing her emotions to stay in check. she wasn’t going to let him charm his way out of this—not this time.

“thanks,” she muttered, her voice flat, void of any warmth.

jude let out a small sigh, clearly hoping for more. when nothing followed, he leaned down, resting his arms on the edge of her desk, trying to catch her eye. “come on, y/n. you can’t stay mad at me forever. how long are you gonna keep giving me the cold shoulder?”

still, she didn’t look at him. “i’m working.”

he straightened up, clearly flustered, but not giving up. he flashed her that smile—the one that usually melted her resolve in seconds. “when are you coming home? i miss you.”

y/n finally glanced at him, but her eyes were sharp, cold. “why?” she asked, her tone biting. “so i can suffocate you some more? maybe hover over everything you about taking care of yourself like it’s a bad thing?”

her words hit him like a slap, and jude blinked, clearly taken aback. he opened his mouth, then closed it, unsure of what to say. he had never seen her this... sharp. this distant. and it was starting to sink in just how much he had hurt her.

“it’s not like that, y/n. you know i—” he began, but she cut him off.

“no, jude. it is like that.” she pushed back from her desk, finally standing and facing him. “you don’t get it, do you? i love you. more than anything. but you’re being reckless, and i can’t stand by and watch it happen. i’m not going to sit here and watch you ruin your career, your body—everything you’ve worked for. and i can’t be with someone who doesn’t care about themselves enough to do what needs to be done.”

he took a step closer, his expression softening as he reached for her hand. “y/n, i care about you—about us. that’s why i’m doing this. i can’t afford to be out for months with surgery. the team needs me.”

she pulled her hand away, frustration boiling up. “and what about what i need, jude? have you thought about that?”

he was quiet for a moment, clearly grappling with her words, trying to find the right thing to say. “i’m sorry,” he murmured. “i’m sorry i hurt your feelings—”

y/n scoffed, her patience running thin. “i'm going to stop you right there. this is about your health. i’m your girlfriend, and i’m your physio. i have a responsibility to make sure you’re okay, and right now, you’re not.”

he looked down, his shoulders slumping slightly. “i know… but surgery—”

“don’t,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “don’t give me the same excuse. if you want to make it up to me, if you really care about us, you’ll get the surgery. that’s how you fix this.”

he stared at her, his jaw tight, clearly wrestling with himself. “i can’t,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “i can’t do that.”

y/n’s chest tightened, her heart breaking a little more with each passing second. she took a deep breath, nodding to herself as she made up her mind. “then we don’t have anything left to talk about.”

jude’s head snapped up, panic flashing across his face. “what? no—y/n, come on, don’t do this.”

“i’m not your assigned physio anymore, jude,” she continued, her tone distant, like she was reciting facts rather than emotions. “and as your girlfriend, i’m not going to keep offering you my care and love only for you to throw it back in my face.”

“y/n, please,” he begged, stepping closer, his hand reaching for hers again. “don’t push me away.”

she looked at him, her eyes softening for just a moment. “i’m not pushing you away, jude. until you decide to take your health seriously, we don’t have anything else to talk about.”

and with that, she walked past him, leaving him standing there, lost and unsure, holding her favorite latte that suddenly didn’t seem like enough.

the shopping center was bustling with activity, the sounds of chatter and footsteps echoing through the open-air market as y/n strolled alongside denise and jobe. she had been hesitant to join them at first, but denise had insisted, practically pulling her out of the training center with promises of coffee and a relaxing afternoon. y/n couldn't say no to jude’s mom—she was like the mother she never had. and despite everything, she missed this, missed the warmth of being around his family.

“so, how do you say this again?” denise asked, holding up a scarf to a shopkeeper, her brow furrowed as she tried to recall the spanish phrase y/n had taught her earlier.

y/n smiled softly, stepping in to help. “es tan bonito. how much is it?”

denise repeated the words with a grin, and the shopkeeper beamed at her effort before responding. y/n translated easily, helping denise through the exchange. the older woman patted y/n’s arm, her eyes twinkling. “i don’t know what i’d do without you. you’re my little translator,” she teased, giving y/n a warm smile.

“well, you’re learning,” y/n said with a gentle laugh. “and you’re doing great.”

meanwhile, jobe was trailing behind them, half paying attention to the conversation while glancing at his phone. y/n nudged him playfully. “you’re awfully quiet back there, jobe. come on, join in! you’re one of the girls now.”

jobe rolled his eyes but smirked. “nah, i’m good. you have your fun. i’m just here for the food.”

denise gave him a look, but there was no real bite in her words. “don’t act like you’re not enjoying yourself, jobe. you love shopping with us.”

y/n laughed at that, and jobe let out a dramatic sigh. “fine, maybe a little. but don’t tell anyone.”

as they made their way through the rest of the shops, the atmosphere felt light, almost normal—almost like she hadn’t just walked out on jude days ago. but as they settled down at a small café for lunch, denise’s warm gaze flickered toward y/n, a hint of concern behind her smile.

“you haven’t been over much lately,” denise remarked gently, stirring her coffee. “jude’s been… well, a bit out of sorts. sulking, really.”

y/n tensed at the mention of his name, her fingers tightening around her mug. “yeah, things have been… complicated.”

jobe glanced at her, sensing the shift in mood. “he’s been a right pain at home,” he added with a chuckle, though his eyes were more curious than teasing. “what’s going on with you two?”

y/n sighed, setting her coffee down. she didn’t want to get into too many details, but she knew she couldn’t dodge their concern forever. “we had a fight. about his surgery. he’s being stubborn and refusing it, and i just… i can’t stand by and watch him hurt himself.”

denise nodded thoughtfully, her expression softening with understanding. “that sounds like my jude,” she murmured, shaking her head. “he’s always been driven, even as a little boy. always pushing himself, always wanting to be the best.”

y/n felt a lump form in her throat as she listened, her heart aching. “i know. and i get it, i do. but he’s risking everything—his health, his future. i can’t just sit there and do nothing.”

denise reached across the table, placing a gentle hand on y/n’s arm. “sweetheart, jude is so focused on his goals that sometimes he forgets about the bigger picture. he’s always been that way. stubborn, yes, but he’s also in love with you. he’ll come around—you just have to give him time.”

jobe leaned back in his chair, nodding in agreement. “yeah, he’s a bit of an idiot sometimes, but he’s not stupid. he loves you, y/n. it’s just… football is everything to him, and right now, he’s scared of losing that. but that doesn’t mean he’s not thinking about you too.”

y/n bit her lip, her chest tightening with emotion. “i just don’t know how to get through to him. it feels like i’m banging my head against a wall.”

denise smiled warmly, squeezing her hand. “just keep being patient, love. jude’s got a good head on his shoulders, but sometimes he needs a little nudge in the right direction. he’ll figure it out. and when he does, he’ll realize that you’re right.”

y/n gave a small, grateful nod, her heart feeling a little lighter. she appreciated their insight, their understanding of jude in a way only his family could provide. they had seen him through all his phases, his triumphs, and his struggles, and their words gave her hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d come to his senses.

as they finished their lunch and continued shopping, y/n felt a small flicker of peace. things weren’t perfect, and the weight of her argument with jude still loomed over her, but being with his family—hearing their stories and their faith in him—made her feel like she wasn’t alone in this.

and maybe, just maybe, jude would realize that too.

the sun was setting over madrid, casting a golden hue through the large windows of jude’s apartment. y/n sat on the edge of the couch, her heart racing as she stared at the familiar surroundings. it had been days since they last spoke—days that felt like weeks, filled with uncertainty, hurt, and distance.

but she was here now. despite everything, she missed him. missed them. and as much as it pained her to watch him be so reckless with his body, she knew they had to find a way through this. for both their sakes.

the sound of the front door opening pulled her from her thoughts, and a moment later, jude stepped inside. his eyes met hers instantly, surprise flashing across his face, quickly replaced by a mixture of relief and guilt. he closed the door behind him, hesitating by the entrance as if unsure of what to say.

“hey,” his voice was soft, tentative, as he dropped his gym bag on the floor. “i didn’t expect you to be here.”

y/n stood, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. “i didn’t expect to come either,” she admitted, her voice equally soft. “but we need to talk.”

jude nodded, his shoulders sagging as he approached her slowly, as if afraid she might disappear. “yeah, we do.”

they stood there for a moment, the silence heavy between them, both unsure of how to start. it was jude who broke the quiet first, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated with himself.

"i need to apologize for… for what i said the other day.” his voice was quiet, almost as if he was ashamed to bring it up.

y/n looked at him, waiting for him to continue. she knew what he was referring to—how his words had cut deep, leaving a wound she hadn’t been able to shake.

he swallowed hard, finally lifting his eyes to meet hers. “what i said about you suffocating me… about you hovering over everything. that was wrong. so wrong. i didn’t mean it, not like that. i was angry, frustrated with myself, and i took it out on you. you were just trying to help me, and instead of appreciating it, i threw it back in your face. i’m so sorry.”

his voice broke slightly, the guilt etched into every word. y/n’s heart ached as she watched him struggle with the weight of his apology. she could see how much it was eating at him, how much he regretted the hurtful things he had said in the heat of the moment.

“you didn’t deserve that,” jude continued, his voice barely above a whisper now. “you’ve always been there for me. always cared for me, even when i wasn’t taking care of myself. i don’t know why i said those things. i was scared, and i lashed out at the one person who’s always had my back. and that was wrong.”

y/n blinked, her chest tightening as the memory of his words came flooding back. she hadn’t realized just how much she needed to hear him say this, to acknowledge the damage he’d caused. she had spent so many nights replaying the argument, wondering if maybe he had truly felt that way—that she was too much, too protective, too demanding.

but hearing him now, seeing the pain in his eyes, she realized how much he had been hurting too. they had both been navigating this storm together, just on opposite sides of the same battle.

“jude,” she said softly, her voice wavering. “i know you didn’t mean it, but… it still hurt. when you said those things, it made me feel like i was the problem. like maybe i was asking for too much by caring about you.”

he shook his head quickly, his hands reaching for hers again, holding them tightly. “no, no, y/n. you are never the problem. you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. and i was too caught up in my own head to see that.”

he took a deep breath, his grip on her hands tightening as if he was afraid to let her go. “you’re not suffocating me. you’re not too much. i need you, y/n. i need you in my life, and i need your care. because without you… i don’t know where i’d be right now. probably doing even worse.”

a small, sad smile tugged at the corners of y/n’s lips. “i just want you to be okay, jude. that’s all i’ve ever wanted.”

he nodded, his expression earnest, filled with remorse and love. “and i promise you, i’m going to do better. i’m going to take care of myself, and i’ll listen to you. because you’re right—i can’t keep ignoring my health. and i can’t keep pushing you away when all you’ve ever done is love me.”

y/n’s eyes softened, and she squeezed his hands gently. “that’s all i ask. that you take care of yourself, so we can take care of us.”

jude leaned in, resting his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the room. “i’m sorry, baby. for everything. and i’m going to make it right.”

she closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his presence wash over her. “i know you will,” she whispered, feeling the weight of the past few weeks slowly start to lift.

they stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in the silence, the apology finally spoken, the air between them beginning to clear.

jude sat down beside her on the couch, his leg bouncing nervously. “i won’t get the surgery now,” he said, his voice steady but filled with determination. “not yet. i want to be there for the euros, and i’m not ready to sit that out. but i swear, y/n, after that… after the tournament, i’ll do it. i’ll get the surgery.”

y/n’s heart ached at his words, knowing how much the decision weighed on him. she took a deep breath, feeling a flicker of guilt rise in her chest.

“jude… i never want to make you feel like you have to choose between your dreams and me,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “that’s not fair, and it’s not what i want. you deserve to live your dream, to play and give it your all. i don’t want you to feel torn between what you love and us. i just… i just want you to be safe.”

he turned toward her, his brow furrowed in concern as he took her hands again. “y/n, you’re not making me choose. this isn’t about you versus football. i need to take care of myself because i want a future with you. us.”

his voice softened as he continued. “i know what football means to me. but you, love… you’re my future. i promise i’ll find the balance. for both of us.”

her chest tightened as his words sank in. “promise me, then,” she whispered, tears threatening to fall. “promise me you’ll take care of yourself until then. more physio sessions, more rest, whatever it takes. i can’t lose you, jude. not to an injury, not to anything.”

he cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had escaped down her cheek. “i promise. i’ll do whatever it takes. because i don’t want to lose you either.”

y/n’s breath hitched, her emotions swirling as she searched his eyes, looking for any sign of doubt. but all she saw was sincerity, love, and a deep regret for the pain he’d caused. she could feel the weight of his words, the shift in him, and it brought a sense of relief she hadn’t expected.

slowly, she leaned into his touch, letting her forehead rest against his, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the room. “i love you,” she whispered, her voice breaking just a little. “i need you to take care of yourself. for me, for you… for us.”

jude closed his eyes, his hold on her tightening as if he was afraid she might slip away. “i love you too, y/n. more than anything. and i’m going to do better. i swear.”

they stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, the tension that had been simmering between them finally beginning to melt away. when y/n pulled back slightly, her eyes met his, and she saw the vulnerability there—the realness of his promise. she believed him.

“okay,” she said softly, offering him a small smile. “then we’ll figure this out. together.”

jude let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his own smile breaking through the exhaustion and worry. “together,” he echoed.

and just like that, the weight that had been pressing down on them both seemed to lift, replaced by the warmth of their shared love and the promise of a better tomorrow.

they sat down on the couch, still holding hands, and for the first time in what felt like forever, y/n felt at peace. not because everything was perfect, but because they were in it together—fighting for each other, fighting for their future.

as they leaned into each other, jude pressed a soft kiss to her temple, his voice low and gentle. “after the euros, we’ll take that next step.”

y/n smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. “good. because i’m not going anywhere either.”

and in that quiet moment, as the sun dipped below the horizon, they both knew they were stronger together. there was still a long road ahead, but they were ready to face it, hand in hand.

© PDRIESTA 2024

taglist — @sinners-98-world @stephiii29 @kcharlyy @landosgirlxoxo @judesthighveins @ilovelifes-world @cinderellawithashoe @imnyt @miniemonie2001 @lunamelona @treble-snot

[rey-jake-therapist]

Ok, here am I again posting another TROP/Haladriel meta... Feel free to mute me if you can't take it anymore, these are gonna be two long weeks as there are still two episodes left...

We're having a lot of discussions about what we'll get to see in Episode 8 (maybe even a bit in episode 7??), and it's really great and exciting to speculate about what will happen when our two love birds mortal enemies finally meet again.

It seems to be the general consensus that Sauron will try again to convince her to be his queen. Now I may be the dissonant voice, but I personnally don't think it will be that straightforward.

Charlie said several times that Sauron was pissed that Galadriel rejected him, but that it wasn't the end of the world, for him. Meaning: he totally believes he can make it without her.

To the Nerdist, he said :

"Speaking of your old screenmate, Sauron asked Galadriel to be his queenOpens in a new tab at the end of season one of The Rings of Power. How much, if at all, does he still want that by this point? And does he think it’s a possibility? Vickers: I think he probably does think it’s still a possibility because he has this hubris and this self-love. He thinks he’s really cool, and he thinks, “Well, she rejected me once, but next time I come back for her, she won’t reject me again because I’ll be so powerful she won’t be able to.” But I don’t think he necessarily wants that. I think his initial proposal to her was to join him, and they could be king and queen of Middle-earth, but really, he would���ve been king, and she would’ve been his righthand woman. Any kind of dreams he has involve her being number two and him being number one."

(I would love to see him try to submit Galadriel to his will, btw. I mean, c'mon man)

To Collider, he said,

"His getting rejected definitely leaves him with this sour taste in his mouth, and he goes away thinking, “I can make this right.” Whatever that means to him. That's one of his throughlines in terms of his motivation or goals for this second season is how much he's driven and how much this relationship gives him a sense of purpose."

And to Schön:

That connection will endure as long as the show endures because although they might not be together in proximity when we pick it up, he’s pissed off that she has turned his pitch down [laughter]. That drives him to think, I can make her join me, or I’ll make her pay for this.

Here, there's also an interview he gave for Total Films, where he reveals that there's a "huge amount of urgency in each of them trying to obtain what they want in that situation": https://x.com/totalfilm/status/1830244276539654595

I'm sure I've read an interview where Charlie said that Sauron would probably want to taunt Galadriel with what they could have done together had she said yes. Edit : found it! Interview for TV Insider.

Second to his lust for more rings is Sauron’s desire to get the Elven rings back. “While he didn’t directly touch them, which is a big thing this season, [Galadriel] has this ring that he put all this effort into, and he wants that back,” Vickers admits. Sauron “covets” these jewels, “and particularly hers,” he explains, “because he knows what they represented when he was making them.” Sauron feels “taunted” and “pissed off” that Galadriel rejected him. That makes getting her ring back personal, but Vickers insists that “he’s past ruling with her.” That won’t stop him from showing her “what could have been, what you could have had,” Vickers teases.

Of course Charlie can't give much away. But so far, it matches with what we saw in season 2 : he's in Eregion, forging his rings of power with Celebrimbor, he's visibly happy (just kidding, the man looks exhausted and depressed), but sometimes he can't help but think of Galadriel.

I love how the experience is completely different for him, from it is for Galadriel: while she had a bittersweet flashback of her and Halbrand in the Southlands, he gets lost in the contemplation of Mirdania's hair because she reminds her of Galadriel, and manifests images in his mind palace that also remind him of her (there are several posts about all this on Tumblr, including one of mine... I won't enter into the details again).

It would be very OOC of Sauron to display an outright nostalgia for the time he spent with Galadriel as Halbrand, imho, even if it was only for the audience to see. He's not supposed to be sad and nostalgic, but pissed at her for rejecting him, and determined to move on and to obtain what he wants without her in the picture. He's probably annoyed af to see his thoughts shifting towards Galadriel while he's in the middle of something very important. He's in his "the fuck with her" phase of the breakup, which pretty much matches what Charlie said. In his hubris, he believes that once he has his rings, he will be so powerful that Galadriel will have no other choice than joining him. She hurt his pride, so now he wants to relish the sight of her submission to him.

Regarding the mind palace scene, precisely the one where the guy tells the Galadriel look alike he wrote a poem : it probably remained unnoticed by most viewers, but I think it's very significant that this scene arrived at THIS moment. Let me explain:

To convince Celebrimbor, Sauron first assures him that when the story of this age is written, the Silmarils will be "no more than a whisper". Of course it's meant to motivate Celebrimbor who always wanted to create something that would be remembered, like the Silmarils. But it can be interpreted as a personal goal for Sauron as well :

1) Morgoth found the Silmarils so beautiful that for weeks, "he could do nothing but stare into their depth".

2) Fëanor admired Galadriel's hair so much it gave him the idea of imprisoning and blending the light of the Trees, and three times requested a tress of hers (she always said 'no').

The two people he loved/admired but hurt him the most are connected to the Silmarils in a way, so he could see the creation of something "more precious" as a personal challenge. After he promises Celebrimbor that his rings of power will be "deemed the most precious creations in all Middle-Earth", and Celebrimbor returns to his workshop, his attention is caught by the sight of a couple. The man (whose face remains unseen, because he's a just a self-insert) tells the Galadriel look alike :

"I've written a poem, but I fear your beauty still overshadows anything I could possibly write."

Of course we joked about Sauron's pathetic attempt at poetry (it's terrible lol), but imho there was a deeper meaning to this scene. I think it was his subconscious manifesting what he already knows deep inside of him : that without Galadriel's light, there will ALWAYS be something missing. That what he told Celebrimbor was a lie, no matter how much Sauron wants it to be the truth. The Rings of power are his poem, but Galadriel's beauty/light will always overshadow it.

Hence why it's pretty much granted that he will try to "get Galadriel back". He'll show her how powerful he is now that he has the Nine rings, and his proposal will probably not be as charming as it was the first time. I think we should prepare ourselves to a lot of gaslighting and threatening from his part (he's still pissed off, guys). He'll surely tell her that Eregion is burning because she refused him, that kind of thing. He will definitely use her memories of Halbrand (it's pretty much confirmed by the presence of Halbrand's theme within The Temptation music, and maybe Galadriel's vision of Halbrand enters that scheme too), but will it be to show her what they could have had if she had said yes the first time, or what they could still be? It remains to be seen.

We probably shouldn't forget that in his mind, it happens like this: "she joins me, or I'm making pay for it".... It should be pretty intense.

Then we've got what Charlotte Brändström revealed about Sauron (bless her heart) :

"I think Sauron even really loves Galadriel and you will see that at the very end”

There are already several threads discussing how Sauron will show his love for Galadriel... Will he spare her? Save her in one way or another? Heal her because she's hurt? Prove her in some way that what he said he felt as Halbrand was real? Something entirely different? Anyway, it will be something that can't be confused with manipulation.

There, I said my piece. Why isn't it next Thursday yet?

[pedrilcvr]

PEDRI WHERE WHERE WHERE he comes home after a long, exhausting day and before he can even pull u in for a hug/kiss, u begin to ramble on and on about ur day (he loves it nonetheless), but he just cant help but flicker his gaze down to ur lips ever-so-often and u notice and finally give in

Cherry flavored — Pedri Gonzalez.

Pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x Fem!Reader

Summary: Pedri can’t seem to stop staring at your lips while you’re in the middle of rambling, and you finally notice.

Disclaimer/s: reader is a teacher!

A/N: video from @/bcx0012__ on tiktok!! Vid had me actually crashing out on enya it was soooo. Finished the rest of this draft while sick ✊😞

You were sitting on the couch when Pedri walked through the front door. Excitement coursed through your body as you lurched off the couch, rushing toward him with a wide smile on your face. You’d been waiting for him to get home for hours to tell him about your day.

“Pedrooo,” you grin, “i’ve been waiting for you!” You don’t notice the way his arms had reached toward you before slowly dropping back to his side as you began your rant.

“So, my kids were asking about my boyfriend today, well more specifically, you. Then asked why they couldn’t meet you and I had to explain—“ You continued your rant while Pedri set his bag aside and took off his shoes.

You both slowly make your way into the kitchen so Pedri could grab a glass of water while he listened intently. He’d been itching to touch you, to hug or kiss you since he left practice, but he didn’t want to interrupt.

Leaning against the counter, only a few feet away, you continue talking. Hardly registering what Pedri was doing as you were too caught up trying to explain what your student had done.

Your boyfriend adored your rants, especially when talking about your students. He knew how much you loved your job and the kids you taught, and even more, he loved to hear you talk about them.

The way your eyes lit up when you talked about something funny or amusing, was one of those things that he couldn’t stop thinking about even after it goes.

Pedri turns around, closing the fridge behind him, and opening his water bottle. His eyes flickered across your face the more you talked, darting from eyes to lips then back again.

He notes the way your lips were shining, a light red tint to them. You were wearing cherry chapstick, he loved it when you wore that. His lip twitches at the thought of it.

You noticed this immediately, stuttering over your words when his tongue darted out to wet his lips when his eyes were focused in on your lips. “Pedri—Pedro. Stop doing that!” You blush. Yes you blush when your boyfriend does these things. No matter how long you’d been together, he still made you nervous.

“What?” He meets your gaze, eyebrows dipped as if he hadn’t even noticed what he was doing. But he knew damn well. He knew. The slight tug at the right side of his lip gave him away instantly.

“Don’t act clueless.” You laugh, taking the final few steps toward him. In that small amount of time, Pedri’s eyes continuously flickered from your lips to your eyes, unable to figure out what he wanted to focus on.

Pedri pushes himself away from the counter, standing straight in front of you, “your lips,” he starts, eyes wondering down to them, causing your face to heat up. “You’re wearing your cherry chapstick.”

Your throat bobs in place, you never knew how he noticed those things. It’s not like the tint was that noticeable.

Humming, you subconsciously bring a finger to your lips, “I suppose I am.” Letting your hand drop to the side, you tilt your head, “and?”

“And they just look very, very kissable.” He says, “but! I can wait, what were you saying? Something about having to—“

You cut him off, standing on your tip toes, and placing a long kiss to Pedri’s soft lips. It’s slow and passionate, every ounce of love showcased within it.

It felt like this every time you kissed. Something in Pedri couldn’t help but delve every part of himself into you the second your lips molded together.

His arms wrap around your waist tightly, holding you to him like it was the last time he’d ever touch you. All his exhaustion and weariness dissolving in that sacred moment.

He was so full of love, so full of you, he hardly noticed your teasing smirk when you pulled away. His lips darting out to taste the leftover cherry flavor. “Happy now?” You chuckle, “because, I have a lot more to tell you.”

“Very.” He nods, arms loosening around your waist, but still holding you close to him. “First, let me get a snack, then i’ll join you on the couch?”

You clap your hands together eagerly, “sounds fantastic! I shall leave you to that!” And without another word, you wiggle yourself from his grasp and skip toward the living room.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl

Also so sorry sometimes I forget to tag you guys!! I’ll try to remember from here on out!

[nastybuckybarnes]

Street Mouse

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

Summary:

Warnings: Language, Violence, Minor Angst, Hinted attempted assault, fluff, military inaccuracies (teehee)

Word Count: 2.3K

A/n: i've got a whole bunch written for this pairing, and i might make some hc explanations. I've never played COD, sue me. I hope y'all enjoy and I'm gonna probably keep pumping out more parts of this cause i love love love it.

~*~

The distant sound of gunshots is akin to a lullaby now.

You're curled up in a rundown building, a tattered blanket draped over your legs as you try to get some rest.

The sound of more gunshots, these ones much closer, jolt you upright.

Risking a glance out the broken window, you peer down at the street below you, eyes widening as you see two men fighting intensely.

Your heart jumps into your throat at the display, and you can't tear your eyes away.

Eventually, the larger of the two plunges a knife into the smaller man, watching as his body crumples to the ground in a heap.

A shiver races down Simon's back, and he straightens, eyes carefully scanning the area for danger.

He turns around, glancing into each window before finally resting on the eyes he could feel piercing through his gear. His hand twitches toward one of the many weapons strapped to his body, but something about the wild curiosity in her eyes has him pausing.

You hold his gaze, unblinking and absolutely entranced.

He's a huge man, with a skull mask covering his face. Only his eyes are visible, and they all but gaze through your soul. He holds the staring contest, turning to face you fully until there's a soft grunt from behind him.

He glances over his shoulder as his comrade comes into view, and when he glances back at the building, you're gone.

He turns back to Soap slowly, risking one more glance over his shoulder, but it's as if you were never there in the first place.

"What is it? Ya see somethin', Lt?"

Ghost says nothing, only starts heading back the way he came, pausing to rid the corpse on the street of the weapons he was carrying.

You slowly peek out the window again, watching as the two disappear into the darkness of the night.

For weeks, maybe months, the country you now call home has been war-torn.

Schools have long since shut down, and the majority of the population has fled to find refuge elsewhere.

Which makes it a perfect place to hide.

And even though you know you should be keeping a low profile, you can't help but be intrigued by the skull-faced man.

And so you begin to follow him.

The streets are familiar now, as are the schedules of the soldiers and the hostiles.

Which is how you find yourself here.

You're not dumb enough to follow him onto the base or anywhere near it, but in the city when he's on patrol, those hours are all yours to observe.

Your curiosity does have you venturing farther outside of your comfort zone than you normally would, but it pays off every time your eyes meet.

And he's not oblivious to the new eyes that seem to be following him whenever he's in the city. Sure, he's gotten used to the locals staring whenever any of them walk through the streets, but these eyes aren't afraid or hostile. No, these ones are curious. Excited.

The next time he feels the gaze on him, he's outside at just past one in the morning, puffing on a cigarette in one of the few safer areas of the city. Goosebumps rise on his skin and he flicks the end of his cigarette, watching as the ash floats to the ground.

"As much as you try, you're not going to sneak up on me," He says softly, flicking his cigarette onto the ground and crushing it with the steel toe of his boot.

You say nothing, only watch curiously from the second floor of the house he's leaning against.

He turns around, backing up a few paces as his eyes dart from window to window, searching for your face until finally, they land on you.

"Show yourself."

You cock your head to the side, eyes shining in the moonlight.

"Come on, I won't hurt you, but I won't ask again," he warns.

A little grin pulls at your lips and you lean forward in the moonlight, not enough to fully show yourself, but enough for him to see the outline of your face.

You shake your head at him and bring your hand up to the side of your head. With your pointer and middle finger extended, you curl your ring and pinky finger in, pointing the faux gun at your head.

'Bang,' you mouth, knocking your head to the side dramatically.

Ghost lets out a breathy chuckle at your theatrics, his hands resting on his tactical belt.

"Why have you been following me?" He finally asks.

He's not one to second guess himself, not after all he's seen, all that he's endured. But he has to give you credit - you made him question his sanity for a day or two there.

Knowing that you're real, that someone has, in fact, been following him, puts his mind at ease.

You give him a soft smile then lean forward and press your lips to the glass.

He stares at the kiss mark left on the window, traces the soft pink mark with his eyes and then looks back up to where your eyes were, only to find that you've disappeared once again.

Simon Riley is a man who prides himself on his attention to detail, his situational awareness. But he cannot, for the life of him, understand how you manage to disappear into thin air like that.

This starts happening more and more frequently. Little run-ins, kisses left on windows, your twinkling eyes in the pale moonlight.

It's gotten to the point where he volunteers to go out on patrol if only for the possibility of catching a glimpse of your pretty eyes hidden between shadows.

And soon enough, the drawings start to appear.

The first one is drawn on a window, and he doesn't even notice it. Soap is the one who points it out.

"Look, Lt, looks like you've got a fan," he says, pointing to the window across the ally.

He glances over, following Soap's finger, and his brows raise.

On the window, drawn in what looks like marker, is a skull that matches the hard-plated mask on his face.

He scoffs, but deep down, he knows exactly who put that there. His suspicions are confirmed when he catches a lightning-quick glimpse of your eyes peeking through the curtains.

He starts seeing them more often. It surprises him how you manage to get into some of the most dangerous parts of the city and leave nothing but a skull drawing behind.

What really gets him, however, is one particular day, when they're tasked with a particular assignment.

Hostage rescue.

But the exact location of the hostages is unknown.

That is, until he notices little skulls drawn on the windows of one building. More skulls than he's ever seen you draw before.

Trusting his gut, he nods toward the building, signalling for his team to follow him as he approaches.

Sure enough, the skulls lead them better than breadcrumbs exactly to the hostages, and the hostiles are taken out quickly.

"How did you know it was this one?" Gaz asks once the building is secure, leaning outside with his Lieutenant as he lights up a cigarette.

He takes a long drag from it the blows out a cloud of smoke, his eyes flickering around in search of his helper.

"A little mouse told me," is his reply.

Never one to question his Lt, Gaz only nods and heads back inside to meet up with Soap.

As he smokes, Ghost notices a small piece of paper fluttering in the wind, half hidden beneath a rock on the ground.

Crouching down, he picks it up and unfolds it, scoffing out a chuckle.

On it is none other than one of your signature skulls. His little Banksy.

With his cigarette tucked between his lips, he grabs a pen from his breast pocket and scribbles down a half-assed picture on the paper, then tucks it beneath the rock one more time.

Though he can't see you, he knows you're nearby. He can feel your ever-present gaze.

"Ghost! Let's go!" Price calls from inside.

Tossing his cigarette onto the ground, Ghost turns on his heel and heads back inside to meet up with his team.

His back is turned for what feels like only seconds, but when he glances over his shoulder to check on the paper it's already gone.

~*~

You don't see the man with the skull face for a while after that, but you keep his drawing on you at all times.

It serves as a pleasant little reminder that life isn't so bad. Not all the time.

Your thoughts are shattered when you bump into a hard chest, tumbling to the ground with a grunt.

The night may be dark, but the moon shines brightly enough above you to illuminate the back alley you were sneaking through.

"Well, well, boys. Look what we've got here," the man says, a sick grin on his face.

He wears a similar uniform that your skull-faced soldier does, but this man's eyes are sick and snake-like. They send a shudder racing down your spine as you scramble back, scraping your hands on the ground until your back hits a wall.

"It's a long time past curfew, sweet cheeks. What're you doing out so late?" The ringleader asks, stepping closer to tower over you while his comrades circle around you, leaving you with no escape.

One of them grabs your arms and yanks you to your feet in front of them, and your heart almost jumps out of your chest.

The leader drags a dirty finger down your cheek, his brows drawing together when you yank your head back.

"I asked you a question, bitch," he snarls, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to keep your head where he wants it.

You glare up at him, then spit directly in his face, watching with satisfaction as he flinches back.

He chuckles after a moment, squeezing your face harder and glancing at his friends.

"Looks like we've got a fighter. That's okay, we know what to do with those, don't we, boys?" He asks.

This elicits chuckles from the men around you, and you feel your stomach drop.

"Do we?"

The voice is like the crack of a whip in a still room, and the laughter stops immediately.

The men beside you straighten up, hands coming up in salute.

Like water dousing a flame, you feel some of your fear ease at the newcomer.

"Tell me, Corporal, just what might we do with those?" Ghost asks, stepping out of the shadows.

"Lieutenant! We were just... this street rat was out past curfew," the man holding your chin tries to reason, quickly dropping your face.

Ghost nods, looking between the men, his eyes scanning over their names before finally resting on your eyes.

"This is what you lot spend your nights doing? Terrorizing the locals? The people we're supposed to be helping?" He asks, stepping even closer.

The tension grows thick, and you watch as the man in front of you turns around to face his superior.

Ghost chuckles dryly, the sound lacking any humour.

"You know bloody well what we do to terrorists, Corporal," he whispers, his voice deadly, dangerous.

"Now, would you care to explain to me what exactly you were doing to this nice young lady?" He asks again.

You stare up at his icy blue eyes as he makes the man cower, absolutely bewildered and warm inside.

"She's out past curfew," the Corporal tries again, his voice whiny and afraid.

Ghost nods, "and if I remember correctly, we give the citizens a warning and escort them home, we don't corner them against a wall and try to have our way with them. Or did you miss that day of training?"

The soldier's mouth opens and closes several times, but Ghost stays stoically staring at him, gaze sharp enough to kill.

"I asked you a question, Corporal, and I expect an answer!" He snarls, stepping into the man's personal space.

"There's a place for scum like you, and it's not on my team. You're removed, go back to base." His eyes find the other men, "if I ever catch you lot in the city pulling a stunt like this again, I won't be so forgiving. Dismissed."

With that final word, the three men all but sprint away, leaving you alone with the man who's consumed your every thought for the past several weeks.

He watches the men leave, and you're tempted to make your escape.

As if reading your mind, his gaze snaps back to you and his head cocks to the side.

"Even you can't go everywhere unseen, can you, mouse?" He asks.

You blink up at him, your heart racing in your chest.

He watches you for a moment longer, his brows drawing together.

"You speak English?"

You blink up at him again and he sighs, "Christ."

Slowly, you reach into the pocket of your sweater and pull out a piece of paper, opening it up and showing it to him.

His lips twitch upward when he sees his scribbled mouse next to the skull you've drawn.

"Mouse," you whisper, touching the paper.

He nods, pointing to the little drawing.

"Mouse. S'what you are. Quick, hard to catch."

You cock your head to the side and he takes that moment to take you in.

Since that first day, he's imagined what you look like, what you really look like, and he has to admit, he's not disappointed.

You're pretty, lovely even. If circumstances were different... if he were to see you in a bar, he might buy you a drink, ask for your number.

But you're a local, a street mouse, and he's here on business.

He gently pushes the paper back into your grasp and takes a small step back.

"You keep yourself safe. Try to stay out of the streets after curfew." He turns his back to you and takes a step away, then pauses.

"Or at least don't get caught."