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seiwas · 1 year

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₊˚⊹。so this is what it means to be in love | gojo satoru

wc: 8.9k

summary: gojo finds out what it really means to be in love.

contains: f!reader in mind, friends to lovers (prev. slowburn), suggestive scenes, might be mature/mildly explicit? (i only mention ‘butt’ once though…), ‘being in love’ as a journey, almost like a falls in love first (you) vs. falls in love harder (gojo), they fight, they swear, character death/s mentioned, shibuya onwards spoilers, lots and lots and lots of love

a/n: this is better read after the other parts in the collection but can work as a stand alone too!, there’s a jump between this and tell me about love (show me how) so gojo would have developed a lot in the relationship since then!

collection masterlist: conversations on love +02 (extra). look my way, you're what i crave <- you are here + (extended scene) too good to be mine -> 3.5a. this feeling inside of me—

MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT.

this is a re-upload! (because i accidentally deleted the original one!)

Gojo catches onto love slowly.

He takes the hand you leave open just for him, and closes the space between your palms, reducing infinity.

Maybe he’s felt it all this time without knowing; after all, love looks a lot less profound as friends in your early 20’s.

But being in it—being in love? That’s uncharted territory.

Gojo’s been to a lot of places, has travelled back and forth from point-to-point endlessly. He’s survived battles, a war, near-death, and cursed spirits reincarnate; he’s got eyes—two bright blue and an extra four hidden, ones that see beyond human comprehension. Unearthing this simple truth shouldn’t shake him, shouldn’t even faze him. If anything, he should have seen it coming—

Except, he doesn’t.

It sneaks up on him, bit by bit, until he finds that being in love means getting to experience you all over again, just differently.

It starts with the little things.

Gojo has known you for so long (a decade and a few years more), but has only recently begun to notice everything: how your baby hairs stick out in the humidity of summer, the way you purse your lips in thought before finally deciding on a drink to order. You play with your fingernails subconsciously, out of habit, the soft taps on your nail beds an accompaniment of anxious conversations you’ve had since you were 23.

He knows you always blink twice before focusing on him, and it’s a mystery whether this is a recent development or something he’s just never noticed, but if you’re trying to enchant him by the flutter of your eyelashes, he wants to let you know that it’s working—except, he knows that you aren’t, because you’re just like that: a daydream without even trying.

These aren’t new things; he’s sure he’s probably encountered them all before, but lately they’ve evolved into cute things, and there’s no hiding the slight curve of his lips every time he spots them.

The sun is beaming brighter this summer, the ocean a faraway blur from the beach towel you set up under the shade. Going to the beach is never your go-to when you think of an extremely hot afternoon, but Yuuji’s been eyeing a weekend getaway since sorcerer work’s lessened significantly.

‘It’s a good effort,’ Gojo convinces you, ‘to get everyone together again.’

And it is—you see it now: Yuuji and Megumi preparing to fling Yuuta into the water while Nobara and Maki race along the shoreline. Toge stays close to Panda but he watches fondly, eyes crinkling every now and then, happy.

When you blink, the image of them softens—a captured memory in the heat haze.

The only older ones here are you and Gojo; Shoko’s always disliked the stickiness of sunblock on her skin, and Ijichi’s new position has made him constantly busy. Somewhere in the distance, you can maybe envision Nanami. He wouldn’t come if you or Gojo asked, but if it were Yuuji—

You rub at your eye, resting your chin on your hand as you will your tear ducts to please, don’t cry.

Yuuji's been smiling a lot more lately, an observation you note from the way his ears are perked up every time you look his way. It’ll never be the same as it used to be but it’s relieving to know that he can exist living as himself now. Just Yuuji.

You hug your knees tighter to your chest, wrapping your arms around it. Your place under the coconut tree provides ample enough shade but your back still burns from Gojo haphazardly slathering sunscreen on it after hearing an ice cream stand from miles away.

The mind is a weird place to be at times like this—split into bittersweet reminiscing and telling yourself to just take this moment and breathe, to live in it. You think about Megumi, and how you hurt for him, always will, for all that he’s lost despite every attempt to avoid it.

You should have been there for Tsumiki, you could have been there for both of them.

Your guilt never leaves you even on days that shine as vividly as this, but perhaps that’s the silver lining—that they’re still with you, always. You can carry pieces of them to these places, and scatter them to the wind, to the sand, to the sea, and maybe to the ice cream stand Gojo’s waiting in line of, surrounded entirely by kids. They all rise to half his size, but if you squint, you think the bounce in his step makes him blend right in.

A chuckle escapes you.

You could sort through your memories and land on one where he looks just like this—freakishly large limbs towering over a tiny, excited Tsumiki. Back then, an ice cream stop after school consisted of your pseudo-family of four, with Megumi on your hand and Tsumiki on his leg, both gripping tightly to combat a chilly 10°C.

Things are different now, evidently. Megumi’s outgrown it, and Tsumiki is no longer here. But Gojo has stayed the same, and it’s comforting to know that he will continue to be this Satoru, your Satoru, even when some things are gone.

You don’t realize you’ve spaced out until he waves the ice cream cone while walking towards you.

Gojo is a sight in trunks the color of his eyes, with seahorses and starfishes in an alternating pattern of peachy-pink against cerulean blue.

You could have sworn you asked for your own cone, but he plops down beside you holding only one. For the both of you. The side-eye you give him is almost criminal, if not deadly, but your lips twitch from the smile you’re hiding (terribly).

He raises an eyebrow and you break character, shaking your head while laughing.

“Did you eat the other one on the way here?” you tease, craning your neck to lick at the bottom scoop (vanilla-strawberry-vanilla, Gojo’s signature order).

Your tongue lands dangerously close to his fingers, and he feels it, but his eyes only land on you—your lips, how they part for your tongue to glide smoothly on his–both of your–dessert. You look every bit of an angel in the soft, pale hues of your bikini, but Gojo’s thoughts are anything but saintly.

He blushes furiously, the tips of his ears and nose bright red as he turns away from you quickly.

“I’m fulfilling your dream of sharing an ice cream cone with me.” he tilts his chin up, proud, smirking slightly. He jokes about it knowing full well that this is his dream come true, just by the look of you.

You stay quiet, rolling your eyes but never meanly, no. You only ever do it fondly—he knows, being on the receiving end of it one too many times.

The beach towel scrunches when you scoot closer, looping your arm around his as you both rest your elbows on your knees. Gojo holds the cone between you two, tipping it towards you when it’s your turn to lick.

He shouldn’t stare, shouldn’t hyperfixate, but it’s so cute how you get the tiniest bit of ice cream on the tip of your nose—as if it belongs there, soft and sweet just like the rest of you.

You look up to find Gojo gazing at you, eyes glimmering like sunlight on the ocean, and a tiny smile that only widens when he realizes you’ve caught him red-handed. Your eyes narrow suspiciously, scrunching your nose in an effort to stop yourself from grinning.

When Gojo looks at you this way, as if you are his favorite place rediscovered, your heart thumps furiously against your ribcage.

“What…” you drawl, your smile impossible to hide in the lilt of your voice.

Gojo thinks he can count every eyelash, every speck of sand dotting your face, and stil not be bored of you. He can’t stop beaming.

Is this what it means to be in love with you?

“Nothing.” he replies, almost giggling, a little bashful but with every inch of sincerity. You know that smile, the only one that holds every ounce of Satoru. Gojo smiles big and wide to everyone else, but this small one you know, is reserved just for you.

He leans in, lips coming closer to brush against the tip of your nose. Your eyes fall shut, instinctively, and the pink dot is wiped clean, a hint of strawberry dancing on his palate. He’s done this more times than he can count, has gotten this near to know that close will never be close enough, but you still jolt a bit—PDA has never been your thing.

When he pulls away, you continue to stare at each other, locked in a gaze until the ice cream begins to drip down his fingers and onto the beach towel. It misses his trunks by a hair and you both laugh at how he belatedly tries to escape it even though it’s already there.

It’s indescribable, this moment, seeing you in slow motion, laughing as bright as the sun—the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. It takes every bit of him to look away so he can wipe his hands clean from the dripping dessert.

You hand him a packet of wipes and beckon him to sit in front of you after. Squeezed onto the palm of your hand is a copious amount of sunscreen you plan to slather all over him. A touch-up, if you will.

Gojo has sensitive skin, pale as bond paper and burns just as quickly. The high points of his face are already reddening, warm to the touch when you dab at them with sunscreen.

You’re so near, so close, sitting cross-legged in front of him with your knees touching his. The tip of your tongue sticks out just slightly as you focus on his skin.

Even though he knows, he still wonders what your lips would taste like, SPF chapstick and crumbly bits from the wafer cone. He wonders what your eyelashes would feel like, fluttering over his own.

The light casts a halo around you and he thinks it’s fitting for all that you do. You pamper him like this, slather love all over his chest and back, massage it in so it dissolves into him—and he feels it so deep that he tastes it.

How can your love be so sweet? He thinks, sighing as your fingers work sunscreen up his neck from his collarbone. You always apply his skincare like this: upwards, gently—‘no tugging, please!’—something about keeping his baby face even when he’s old.

“You should join them,” you mumble, rubbing more product onto the nape of his neck. You’re leaning over his shoulder, neck brushed against his cheek.

Gojo hums, watching everyone from a distance. It’s been a while since he’s had a day like this.

“But maybe after 30 minutes, so the sunblock doesn’t wash off. You’re already burning.” you note, coming back to sit.

Of course, he’s already burning. How can he not when the sun is right in front of him?

You join everyone for a game of beach volleyball in the sunset of the afternoon. You’re transported back to high school, the last time you did this—you and Satoru against Shoko and Suguru, with Haibara keeping score.

From the way Gojo’s eyes are glossed over, you can tell he’s thinking about it too, the memory having seared itself into your brains forever, it seems.

Being paired together should feel familiar—the same, but it doesn’t—isn’t, because Gojo can’t concentrate, sneaking glances to notice all the little things about you that he never used to. Your skin shines from the combination of sweat and sunscreen, and when you crash into him it’s both sticky and slippery. He should really ask for a time-out before you blind him completely.

You look unfairly good in your bikini, too good he can barely hear you calling for him; between the ocean and his blood rushing, any other sound is drowned out into nothing.

Maki and Yuuji absolutely demolish the both of you, reaching 15 first in the final set. Gojo blames the loss on you of course, even though he’s missed every pass you’ve sent his way and netted 60% of his spikes.

And maybe it technically is your fault—you and your (very distracting) little things. But it’s entirely on him that he’s fallen for it, fallen for you as much as this.

Gojo thinks of love differently when he sees a picture of himself and all it does is remind him of you.

There’s a photo tucked safely in his wallet (saved and set as his homescreen too). Shoko snorts when she walks in on him printing it, all six-foot-three of him hunched over the small inkjet printer in the faculty room.

“It’s all digital now, Satoru,” she scoffs, taking a puff on her cigarette.

Gojo doesn’t say anything even though he knows it’s true, too focused on watching the printer push out the two-by-three inch image he’s about to cut into.

Print photos aren’t as important anymore when cloud storage spaces are just as–if not more–accessible, but Gojo is admittedly sentimental despite every front he puts up to hide it.

He’s kept every single gift you’ve given him and camouflaged it as decoration in his office, and the family drawing 10-year-old Tsumiki made is still folded between the pages of a self-help book Yaga had given him when he first decided to teach.

When every moment is experienced so vividly, seen through a muddle of infinite energies, there are those he wishes could stay still—ones that take up space to remind him: ‘this is real, it happened, and here is proof that it did’.

He already has one of all of you, fresh-faced and barely pushing the peaks of youth at 16. A tangle of arms wrapped around each other—one of his gripping tightly on Suguru, and the other hanging loosely over you. Utahime is crouched in front, holding the hand you’ve placed on her shoulder while pulling Shoko into a semi-squish-semi-hug (because out of the four of you, Shoko is her favorite—completely valid; if given the choice, she’d be your favorite too). Nanami and Haibara stay close to Suguru, squatting low to balance the photo, and Haibara is smiling, the ever cheery grin Suguru loves to dote on, while Nanami is Nanami—sharp features and a serious gaze that you all know he’ll grow into someday, handsome with age.

For the longest time, Gojo has kept that photo hidden, locked away in the drawer of his bedside table as if keeping it there means the memory will stay guarded forever—untouched, unspoiled, unruined.

It would have stayed there if you didn’t stumble upon it while looking for his painkillers during another one of his skull-crushing migraines.

You approach him with the image hesitantly, eyes damp and glossy. Years have faded the colors ever so slightly, but the corners remain crisp from being stowed away neatly. You say sorry, that you shouldn’t have looked through his things, but you remember the moment it was taken so fondly: a visit to the Kyoto campus on a one-day break to train with other students.

Gojo has many theories about time and the multitude of spaces it takes—like how a person can exist at different points in time, disparate at each instance, and still take up the same big chunk of space. The opposite can be true too, that someone can live finitely (just once) and occupy spaces in every place you look: the face of a passerby down the road, a sign at the corner of the street, or even a photograph that immortalizes people you once knew.

He only shares when you ask, aware that he tends to be a bit of a nerd about it whenever it’s brought up, but you don't mind. You like listening to it all, no matter how insightful or confusing they are for you to make sense—a version of him not many get to witness. His explanations are comprehensible for the most part, except—

When Gojo tells you that he’s kept the image in his drawer, hidden, because exposing it to the space-time that exists now will erase every reminder that it ever happened, you hug him tightly.

Your sniffles are heard from the way his head is tucked into the crook of your neck, your fingers gripping strands of his hair in empathy.

He considers your near-tears as a sign that the memory is long gone, decayed into the brittling tragedy of reality. But you smile, the corners of your lips bittersweet as you express disbelief that he’s kept it all this time.

You tell him delicately that some precious things are meant to be celebrated, put out to be remembered—to be experienced.

And it becomes clearer to him then, by the look in your eyes and remembrance soft-spoken, that what good is a photo unseen?

What good is a love unwitnessed?

When you gift him a frame a year after finding the photo, he hangs it by the wall next to his office door. The image is painful to look at, always has been (even when it was hidden in his drawer)—during Suguru’s defection, and death anniversaries especially.

The recent one for Nanami was heavy; the first time he’s ever been able to process grief fully.

Gojo can argue that it grows more difficult every time he catches a glimpse of it from his desk, but you have a way of honoring pain that doesn’t make it sting as bad—that turns it into a reminder of a love that was once there, of feelings that hurt as evidence that someone cared.

Now, he wants another photo printed, one of just the two of you. Not because it hurts, but because he wants this precious thing to be remembered and seen—for this love to be witnessed too.

It’s self-timered, snapped under the shade of a cherry blossom tree in full bloom. The picture is far from perfect: your eyes bright and mouth open mid-fear of his phone falling off the bridge railing.

You may look a teensy bit funny, but Gojo will always find it cute. Anyone can see it, at how he looks at you in that moment—like you are every bit worthy of the distance travelled and seasons waited. He gazes at you fondly, eyes holding clear skies and pink lips curling into a small smile.

It’s cheesy, but if you ask him what he thinks about this year’s flowers, he’ll tell you none of them (not even any of them combined) could compare to you. The cherry blossoms could be gone and he’d still see them everywhere (in the softness of your lips, the fullness of your cheeks, the radiance you emit when you are truly, solely content and happy).

He remembers that afternoon well: the spring breeze that jolts his phone sideways, his hand resting on your lower back, unseen in the image. There’s no real reason for visiting the blossoms on this day of all days, but Gojo doesn’t believe in coincidences, and he’s counted down exactly to a year since you both had your first kiss.

It’s so silly, because he’s never thought of things like this before. He knows you probably don’t think much of it either considering that neither of you have made anything official yet since.

And he feels a little stupid for that, honestly.

You have a drawer of his clothes for the nights he stays over (more often than not), and even though you go on these little trips that are so obviously dates, you both still just tell everyone you’re ‘hanging out’.

He’s not fooling anyone here, not when he looks at you then with the feeling of his chest expanding, stretching to accommodate the overflows of his affection since learning the ways to love you—tenderness caught in little pixels of eternity.

When Gojo goes through all 179 photos from that afternoon, he filters out the ones to delete and picks this one out especially—favorites and resizes it to fit his home screen and his wallet too.

There’s something about the look on his face that reminds him of every time he’s caught the same one on you.

He slides the photo into the little sleeve behind his credit card, catching himself smiling—this must be because of you, he thinks, and the bits and pieces of yourself that have somehow become part of him slowly, sneaking into him unknowingly.

If this is what it means to be in love, with you, then he’s fucked.

Don’t you know that he’s insatiable? These traces of you will only make him want the whole of you.

You find the photo while he rushes to the restaurant restroom. On ‘hang out’s like this, you insist on splitting the bill, but Gojo has always been stubborn and you’ve learned that you can never argue.

He hands you his wallet to pay with his card, and when you slide it out, the photo falls. It’s face down on the floor when you pick it up, fully expecting it to be a photocard of some idol you know Gojo follows.

But it isn’t, and your smile widens.

When Gojo comes back, you’re looking up at him affectionately, biting your lips as if to stop yourself from speaking—the same way he always does.

It’s funny because, slotted between your two fingers is the photo he’s kind of flustered you found, but he has no time to be embarrassed when he sees a little bit of himself in the way you’re staring at him right now.

“So, Yuuji asked if we were together.”

You quirk an eyebrow, looking up at Gojo from the pile of laundry you’ve begun folding on your bed. He emerges from the bathroom, ruffling his hair with a towel.

Over the past year, Gojo has spent his weekends off with you, sleeping over and traipsing around your room in his pajama set as if he’s lived here just as long as you.

You snort as you fold, amused that this is even a question to begin with. Yuuji’s always been known for being exceptionally dense, but you didn’t think it was this bad. Gojo was especially touchy with you during that beach trip, and you’re sure Megumi and Nobara have caught up to let him know by now, somehow.

“What made him ask?”

“I think he wants to take you away.” Gojo teases, wiggling his eyebrows as he throws the towel on the chair across your vanity.

You roll your eyes, still sweetly, indulging him, “Sure.”

It’s now a running joke that Gojo’s threatened about Yuuji stealing you; you’ve always had a soft spot for bright eyes and even brighter souls and Yuuji is as close to that as anyone can get.

It’s not like that though, it could never be; Yuuji is just like your Megumi—the two boys you want to protect and care for in hopes of treating them better than their lives have ever.

Gojo feels the same, you know, otherwise he wouldn’t have guided them as much as he has (despite his... questionable ways). Still, your hands have always been gentler, kinder—and though shorter, have always outstretched much farther than his.

You have a way of inching yourself into people’s lives that just fits. He’s experienced it first-hand, can’t even dare to imagine what his life would be like if you didn’t.

He walks across the room to you, bed dipping as he steadies a knee before draping his entire body over your shoulders.

Now that you think about it, it makes sense that Yuuji’s confused, because Gojo has always been extremely touchy to everyone, just never when the feelings mattered, with you. Kiss him once, though, and it snowballs into an avalanche of firsts. And what he’s about to do right now, he thinks, might just trigger another one to form all together.

“As if I’d let him.” he mumbles right by your ear, chin tucked by the crook of your neck. It tickles when he speaks, his nose poking at your cheeks.

“Who put you in charge?” you scoff jokingly, unfazed.

He moves away from you in disbelief, mouth open as he stares at you mindlessly folding.

To be fair, he can’t fault you. You aren’t technically official even though you have kind-of-been for a little over a year. There’s no particular reason, just that you haven’t talked about it—part because you wanted him to approach it whenever he was ready, and also, because it just never seemed like a priority.

You laugh as he stares at you, stunned into silence, the pout on his face borrowed from all the versions of yours.

There’s no point of contention because you’ve only ever loved Gojo since you were 17.

“Kidding,” you kiss his cheek as an apology.

“Don’t even joke about that.” he huffs, you’re starting to take after him a little too much.

“You’re mine.” he murmurs after, arms wrapped around your waist and legs stretched out wide to encase you.

He says it as if it is the simplest truth.

Your heartbeat quickens, too loud and pounding; this is the first time you’ve ever heard this from him, and a part of you thinks this is just another one of those flirty side-comments he makes on a whim.

“You tell him that?” you hope he can’t hear your voice shake as he nuzzles your neck, your fingers trembling on the pair of socks you have yet to roll.

He hums, hugging you tighter. He waits for you to finish folding before letting you lean against him, offering his fingers for you to fiddle with. They’re cold, long and slender, veiny just by a bit, and he always gives them to you like they’re yours, you like to think.

There’s an inhale, a breath of hesitation, before he exhales.

“Something like it.”

You don’t say anything, only nod, and it’s nerve-wracking. He’s so nervous even though he knows he doesn’t have to be because it’s just you. And there’s no need to doubt what you’re feeling. But—

“You are though,” he pauses, “right?”

He has to be sure. This is a testament to you more than himself that he’s learned to ask instead of bulldozing you like he does with everyone else. Who else will he pick that up from but you?

There’s hesitation you hear that you think shouldn’t be there anymore; the fact that you’ve given so much of yourself to this man and he still thinks you’re unsure—

“‘Cause I’m yours.” he speaks, clearly, definitively, before you can even answer. And you know—you’ve known ever since that party years ago. A simple admittance: ‘I’m taken’.

You turn around to face him, eyes shimmering.

Can he see? You’re meant for him only.

All you’ve ever wanted was to love him; everything else he’s done up until this point is already more than you could ever imagine. The labels can only do so much to capture the gravity of what you are to one another: years of history unpacked into a mishmash of feelings overlapping—it’s a lot.

You sit cross legged in front of him, your knees touching his. He’s biting his lips again, an anxious habit you want to kiss away.

Gojo has proven far too much of himself already that he’s serious with you—your kind-of-confession, that confrontation, and the days after, all the ways you’ve both learned to love each other.

You cup his cheeks.

A single word cannot possibly define what he is to you.

“I mean, o-only if you want me to be.” he adds on, blue eyes darting back and forth.

Gojo runs his mouth almost all the time and you’ve never heard him stutter once in his life. Except now.

He’s endearing like this—a version of him you are slowly discovering.

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” you finally say, and it’s a relief.

He feels good, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His arms pull you closer, hugging you tighter as you both smile.

He kisses you once, twice, maybe a million times all over, travelling across your eyelids, the center of your forehead, down to the corners of your mouth before landing a real one right on your lips.

Gojo always looks pretty but he looks prettiest like this, worry-free, with love in his eyes and nothing but pure happiness in the way he holds you.

He won’t tell you that Yuuji asked about your anniversary, not if you were together.

At least now he has an answer.

Gojo stares at you like he wants to say something, a thank you maybe, but he bites his lips instead. No words will ever amount to this feeling, he thinks, of his chest expanding and heart hammering. So he kisses you with all of it, trailing soft smacks of his lips down your neck, tickling. The tips of his hair are still wet from his shower, leaving droplets on your skin as he nips.

You laugh—sprinkled in love.

“S-stop!” you push him away, “Satoru,” giggling, “tickles!”

“We have to consummate it now.” he whispers, grabbing you by the waist to place you on his lap, squeezing your sides while nibbling at your neck playfully.

You roll your eyes at his antics, “It’s not–” you laugh out loud when he pinches your hips, “–marriage, Satoru.”

Oh, if only you knew, he thinks.

The image you’ve planted in his head is dangerous when he’s this drunk on love right now.

More decades, more years spent with you? In another life, or maybe even in this one, if time permits, he wouldn’t mind making that come true.

It’s crazy how much things can change—for all his life, he’s ruled out the possibility of love ever taking root in his ribcage.

You’ve managed to make it feel so easy, so good, even when he was shit-terrified not knowing how to love you like he should.

Now, he thinks, how could he ever miss out on love this way? A love this good, with you?

For all of Gojo’s life, he’s never had to be anyone else—always the strongest, the only one. He’s never had to change anything about himself, because what’s there to improve when you’re already the best?

In a way, this is why it works with you. You’ve taken him as he is, all the good and ugly and never asked for anything more than what he can give.

But being this in love with you—it’s foreign. There are pieces within him shifting, all on their own without him knowing.

How he wants to be better, for you. To be good enough to deserve all of it, and give back more of it too.

Gojo doesn’t realize how much love has changed him until he feels it uprooting every insecurity he never even knew existed, pulling it all up to the surface.

When things are going great, it’s hard to imagine them ever going the other way.

“You don’t mean that.” you mumble, voice trembling.

Gojo stares at you, at your lips quivering and the fists clenched to your sides. There are tears collecting in pools by your eyes, and if there’s anything else he hates in this world, it’s seeing you cry.

So why?

Why couldn’t he just shut up?

“Please tell me you don’t mean that,” you take a step closer, gripping the edge of his jacket, “Satoru.” your voice cracks, begging.

It’s an out-of-body experience when Gojo registers that he’s fucked up, and he sees himself now, bird’s-eye-view, and thinks this is the worst thing he could do to you after all you’ve been through.

“I need some time to think,” he says, finally, the only words coming out of his mouth—but he can’t hear himself speaking.

He should have said sorry, taken it all back, he thinks, not make it worse by leaving.

He heads for the door, heart crunching under each footstep away from you.

Is this what being in love’s supposed to do? Break his heart while yours is bleeding?

You’re too good for Gojo, in every sense of the word—and he knows it.

You are far too kind, far too generous, far too patient with him. You give him more love than he deserves, definitely, and admittedly enough, with how he is, you have been settling for the bare minimum but that’s on him, not on you.

He had no right speaking to you the way he did, hurting you with accusations born from insecurities he’s never before had to deal with.

He knows it.

Who accuses you of ‘meddling’ as if everything out of you doesn’t come from the goodness of your heart? Of provoking you with ‘chasing the bare minimum’ as if he isn’t aware that that’s all he’s given you to work with?

Utahime was right in telling you to be careful with him, and he doesn’t blame her for it. He would have done the same.

He should have told you there was something brewing inside of him already—should have talked to you instead of bursting from all the things people have been saying lately.

Gojo hasn’t spoken to you in three days and the feeling this compares to is worse than anything else he’s ever had to face.

He knocks on your door at night, a little past dinner and too early for bedtime. They echo loudly within the walls of your apartment, and you drag yourself up despite your obvious look of heartbreak.

Gojo hears your footsteps and everything moves entirely too slowly; the lock, taking far too long to turn, the gap between the door and the door frame widening incrementally. Even your face comes into view as if in stop motion, frame-by-frame, gradually.

His hands are in his pockets, lips bitten to bleed. He’s pretty sure he isn’t breathing when he takes you in—puffy eyes and a sweater that belongs to him.

(Is it sick of him to say that he still finds you beautiful this way? Even when you look every bit the part of heartache?)

Gojo didn’t have a plan coming here, didn’t have a list of things to say, just the feeling that he needed to talk to you, see you, even just be around you today.

When your eyes meet, it’s quiet. You stare into him for one–two–three– (Can you tell that they’re watery? Can you see they’re puffed up too?) and then open the door wider to let him in. You head straight to the kitchen, never once looking back while dragging your feet.

He stands outside a few seconds more, waiting for you to take it back—but you don’t, so he walks in and closes the door.

He’s been in your apartment plenty of times before, has practically lived in it by how often he stays over. But this is the first time he’s felt wholly out of place, not knowing where to put himself, just standing in the space between your kitchen counter and the living room awkwardly.

You push a glass of water towards him and he can’t stop staring at it—at you, at your fingers that he wants nothing more now but to hold.

Even with all his faults, all his wrongs, you open your arms for him to walk into, allow him in as if he didn’t just hurt you.

And he wants to cry, at the fact that this place still feels like home, at how it’ll always feel that way wherever you go.

How are you still treating him so kindly? Still taking care of him? A glass of water is one too many for someone like him.

You turn away from him to pour yourself your own then he speaks—

“You should be angry with me.” Gojo says softly, but you hear it.

You pause, tilting the pitcher back upright.

“Why aren’t you angry at me?” he says, a little louder this time, more desperate, more pleading.

Why are you never angry at me? he wants to ask.

You turn around to face him, putting the pitcher down.

Under your kitchen lights, his eyes shine like sunlight on the ocean, waves lapping on the shore. You think it might be a trick of the light, but his lips tremble when he closes them, as if he can’t speak any more.

It’s just as you’ve said, there’s no point being angry with him when your heart can never take it.

You always give Gojo the benefit of the doubt, and though he’s hurt you—though this might be the most painful thing he’s told you yet, you know that he’s been under immense pressure lately. Stressed beyond belief from negotiating with the government on policies for jujutsu society.

It’s not an excuse, you know, but Gojo always has his reasons. He'll tell you eventually, you believe that much.

You give him a sad smile, struggling to stop your tears from spilling. His fists are clenched too tightly, nails digging in hard enough to bleed. He hasn’t moved since coming in, so you push yourself off the kitchen sink towards him.

You take his hands first, unfurl each finger pressed upon his palm and rub gently. He cries quietly for a love so pure that only you would attempt to ease his hurt despite the pain he’s dealt you.

You tiptoe second, pulling the sleeves of your (his) sweater before reaching up to wipe his eyes—beautiful and blue just like you’ve always known, droplets of the ocean at your fingertips.

“Be mad,” he whispers, “please.” squeezing his eyes tightly.

It hurts more when you aren’t, he thinks.

His hand comes up to grip your wrist, bringing it down to cup his cheek. You stroke your thumb across his skin, soothing, loving, and that’s all it takes for him to pull you in. He hugs you tight, arms wrapped around you, clutching.

He wouldn’t deserve you. In any life.

Gojo’s never cried this much before, head pressed to your neck as you rub circles along his back, shushing him softly. You start sniffling too, small at first until it turns into soft hiccups when you finally cry.

Your grip on him tightens.

“‘M sorry.” he mumbles, lips moving against your neck.

“‘S–” you hiccup, “–okay.”

“Stop saying that when it’s not,” he presses against you, nuzzling your neck, “I hurt you.”

“Then don’t–” another hiccup, “–call yourself–” hic, “–bare minimum.” you cry harder.

Gojo knows your heart and the tears that leak out of your eyes; he knows they hold pain for more than just yourself but every single person in your life. You, crying now, is evidence of that truth—shedding tears for him not just because of him when he thinks he’s the bare minimum.

This must be what it means to be truly, deeply loved, he thinks, to have someone know what you mean without even having to speak it—to know your heart, and all the good and bad parts of it.

“I don’t think I’m good enough to you,” he admits, pulling himself away from you.

When he sees your face, wet, with your nose and eyes puffed up from crying, he decides that he hates it more than anything else. Makes it sick to his stomach, even.

He cradles your cheeks, thumbs wiping away your tears. A whole hand of his could cover your face entirely, but he always, without fail, holds you delicately.

“That’s not–” hic, “–true.” you gather your breathing, holding him by the wrists as he presses his forehead against yours. “Only I get to decide that. Not anyone, not you.”

You kiss his lips, a small peck before nudging his nose with yours. You soothe each other this way—in the quiet, swaying to your own tune.

“You’re good to me plenty, Satoru.” you whisper, once both of you have settled.

He opens his eyes to look at you, smiling sadly as he cradles your face, “I didn’t mean it.”

Whatever he told you that day, taking it all out on you.

“I know.” you mumble, nodding.

You always do.

Gojo has always loved you, in some type of way—as friends, colleagues, a-little-bit-more-but-less-than what you are today.

But how he feels right now? It’s kind of ridiculous, borderline out-of-hand, and it’s driving him insane.

It’s such a simple, ordinary thing for you to do: you rush up to him, phone in hand and scroll to some video you found online. You’re so excited, a bounce in your step as if he’s the first and only person you want to show this to. Your eyes shine bright with a megawatt smile to match, and you’re talking so, so fast, completely lit up like fireworks in the making.

He knows you think that he’s listening but, he couldn’t care less about it honestly. Sorry. Not when the words go in one ear and out the other, because all that registers is how adorable you are, giddy and everything.

He makes a joke—completely unrelated, but you find it so funny. Then you’re laughing, full on smacking his arm, doubled over, arms hugging your stomach, guffawing. Your feet are kicking the air as you sink deeper into your couch. Gojo’s standing in front of you, post-enactment of some impression he made, and he’s frozen in place but warm all over.

Seeing you laugh like this, smile like this, being so pretty when you’re happy, the pounding in his chest goes crazy.

This isn’t the first time he’s made you laugh; he does it all the time. You almost always roll your eyes and chuckle, sometimes giggle with your eyes squinting and laugh lines creasing. But it might be the first time it’s like this: with you so bright, more than the sun and every other star in the sky.

And he thinks, this is all he could ever want—to make you happy for the rest of his life.

There’s too much of this feeling inside of him, clawing at his throat, itching to get out. He’s filled with it, has been filled with it for so long that it’s starting to overflow and if he doesn’t say this now he might just—

“I’m so in love with you.”

Gojo breathes it out, as if finally releasing it after all this time. You don’t think he processes it because he just stands there, in the middle of your living room, staring at you.

Your laughter dies with maybe a little part of you too (in a good way).

He looks so sweet, so sincere, and you see his heart, so big, so honest and pure. You get flashbacks of every Satoru you have ever known, at 15, 17, 23, to now.

It’s not like either of you don’t know; it’s plain as day, how you feel about each other—and you would have been fine going on without ever having to hear him speak of love this way.

But hearing it now, it’s far better than anything you could have imagined.

You stare at him. He stares at you.

He’s shocked too.

You don’t want to embarrass him, especially if he didn’t mean to say it, so you chuckle, moving on to break the quiet.

“I can unhear it if you want,” you offer shyly, genuinely.

Gojo looks at you, confused, before a pout makes its way onto his face. You sit up on your couch, playing with your fingers as you look up at him.

Sure, he practically blurted it out, maybe in the heat of the moment, or something, but it doesn’t make it any less true. And he’s realizing that the only thing he really wants from this—

“Though…” you continue, biting your lips, “I think I’m pretty in love with you too.”

The little laugh you make has him, completely.

The grin that breaks on his face is infectious. Gojo, who is normally so pale, is now pink all over—red by his ears and down his neck. There’s a sparkle in his eyes that can be found in yours too.

This moment right here feels like first loves—teens first saying ‘I love you’.

“You think?” he asks incredulously, joking, “So you’re not sure?” he walks closer to you.

You laugh, candy for his cravings, and take his hand to kiss each knuckle before guiding it to your cheek. He runs a thumb across your skin, affection on his fingertips. His index finger hooks itself under your chin, tilting it to rest on his stomach as you look up at him.

A kiss to your forehead, tenderly, gently.

The best part about being in love?

He gets to be in it with you.

Gojo can’t sleep.

It’s not anything new—4 hours on average, maybe 6 on a good night. He doesn’t remember a time when sleep ever came easily.

Sleeping with you, beside you, has helped, but it’s never solved the problem. You’ve gotten him to a full 8 hours before, but never consecutively, and he’s starting to think that if you can’t do it, nothing ever will.

Your sleeping positions change every night, but they always come out as some variation of hugging. Gojo firmly believes that he might as well sleep alone if you aren’t touching.

Tonight, you’re spooning, arm slung over his waist and palm right on his chest, fingers interlaced with his. Your legs stay tangled together with soft puffs of air blowing at the back of his neck.

He opens his eyes and checks the clock by his bedside. 3:24 a.m.

He sighs deeply, carefully maneuvering his body to slip away from you. You used to wake up the first few times this happened, worried about an emergency or some kind of accident. Being a sorcerer trains you for things like that.

You’ve always known Gojo had bad sleep, just not the severity of it.

You don’t wake up to it as much as you used to, having grown accustomed to it after more nights together, but on the off-chance that you do, Gojo always kisses your forehead gently as if to tell you that it’s okay, you can go back to sleep.

You don’t wake up now, thankfully, so he grabs his phone and heads for the kitchen. There’s a sinking feeling in his chest tonight, far heavier than others he’s woken up from. He pours himself a glass of water before hopping on the kitchen counter, ready to sort through the bowl of candy sitting on the island.

The date today is October 31. Halloween. It’s been a few years since Shibuya but he still feels like he’s suffocating.

In the train station. In the box.

In front of Suguru—or Kenjaku, both, whatever.

He’s gone to therapy, just like you wanted, for the both of you, and grieving has been an interesting concept to wrap his head around since.

But no matter how much he trains his mind to deal with it, his body will always remember the feeling.

He snaps out of it when he hears your footsteps padding on the floorboards. Your figure emerges from the hallway, bed hair and eyes still sleepy, squinting.

“Satoru?” you rub at your eyes, his sleep shirt entirely too long as the sleeves extend past your fingertips. The extra fabric swings in the air. “You okay?” you whisper, approaching him.

Waking you up is the last thing he could ever want right now, but it’s hard when you’re also the only one he can talk about this with. When you know what it’s like to grieve everyone too.

He has every intention of brushing it off, of telling you to go to sleep, but one look at you—one look at him and it’s like you just know. He doesn’t even need to explain.

It isn’t hard to piece together, knowing what today is and seeing him choked up the way he is. You tell Gojo it’s your intuition, but he has a tell, and maybe you’re the only one who knows it.

His eyes—they’ve always given him away. There’s the Satoru you know, then a Satoru that’s far removed, gone away. You can spot it though, the moment it loses its sparkle, the moment it turns from blue to gray.

He feels a little selfish sharing this with you; he’s not the only one who’s lost people. You have too.

You stand in front of him and offer a sad smile, outstretching your arms as an invite, as if to tell him: you can stay here for as long as you’d like.

He moves into your space slowly, hopping off the kitchen island to slump against you.

He doesn’t hug you yet, not immediately, hands still shaky at the memory. You rub his back, hooking your chin on his shoulder as he bends down to rest his head by your cheek.

You take his hand delicately, bringing them to your lips so you can kiss every fingertip gently. When you finish, he wraps his arms around you, squeezing tightly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you whisper, like a hushed secret.

And he wants to, but also, there isn’t anything else to say that you don’t know already. You were there the first few times he had therapy, and when he felt comfortable enough to go alone, he told you all about it anyway right after.

If there’s a secret to fighting the Gojo Satoru with guaranteed victory, they’d only have to get to you—he’d be gone, entirely. You know too much of him, own too many parts of him already.

He chuckles dryly, vibrating by your neck. A step back and he’s leaning against the counter, bringing you closer by the hip, thumb stroking. He tucks away strands of your hair behind your ear, flattening down the bird’s nest that it is from your sleep.

“Nothing you haven’t heard before, pretty.”

Gojo’s been more tender lately, especially in the night when his piercing eyes turn soft, gazing.

You pout, the same one since you were 16. You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to it, the way he calls you such sweet, honeyed things; you’ve only recently begun to call him ‘baby’ and that alone has been enough to make your head spin.

Still, he wouldn’t be your Satoru if he didn’t surprise you. With how he is now, it’s hard to imagine a time when this was all so difficult for him, when even the slightest bit of your hands touching was challenging.

It’s hard to imagine that both of you are here now, living in the same space, by the kitchen at night, with the contents of your hearts memorized—the sorrow, the pain, the joy, all the love, every single one.

He kisses your nose, and that’s comfort alone.

This is his reality now, with you, and it’s safe.

It’s good.

“Do you want to make waffles?” he hears you mumble, running your hands over his chest, soothing.

The clock reads 3:56 a.m. Early breakfast doesn’t sound so bad, could also be a midnight snack.

(But he knows what you’re doing).

You don’t tell him to try to go back to sleep, never forcing anything you know he can’t do. Instead, you offer yourself to stay up with him, keep him company. Whatever he needs.

(And he loves that about you).

Gojo will forever argue that you might have fallen first, but he’s definitely fallen harder.

He could map out every single location he’s laid his love on—your eyes, the flutter of your eyelashes, the curve of your nose, and your lips, the same ones he’s kissed and nipped, bitten until he gets his fill.

Your neck and chest—a canvas for his desires. He glides a finger across your collarbone before lightly tapping on it thrice.

There’s the little dip at the base of your spine, and your thighs—

Oh, he could get lost in them.

He knows.

He has. Many times.

There’s an animal inside of him that only answers to you.

When you kiss his neck and grip his back, soft moans by his ear—short and sweet. He’s a gone man, wholly devoted to you, and you only.

You breathe his name out, “Satoru,” raspily, and he sinks into you—everything, all that he has spilling in the depths of you.

How can he possibly contain all this love?

It’s scary how so much of him already belongs to you, all these years—how you’ve been carrying pieces of him, all versions of him throughout every birthday, every moment you’ve touched his life and have it irrevocably changed.

“Are you happy?” he mumbles by your ear, voice deep and lazy.

It’s the morning, sunlight barely peeking through your curtains. Gojo hugs you from behind, arms caging you as he traces little hearts on your sides.

“Right now?” you whisper back, chuckling, “That’s not fair.”

He nips at your ear, a small bite, before you turn to face him.

He supposes you’re right, it isn’t fair to ask that now; both your bodies are sore, well-exhausted, and littered with conversations on love.

Gojo is pretty in the mornings just like he is all the time, his hair lending well to sunlight as much as it does to the moonlight. And his eyes—they shine a different shade during the day compared to the night.

You though, you’re an entirely different creature of your own: a goddess in bedsheets and pillows, wrapped in immaculate white.

You giggle when you face him, nose-to-nose, and he pulls you in tighter, grips you by the butt to slot you in right where you belong.

Are you happy with me?

He wonders, and you can read it—his eyes his greatest tell. You kiss him tenderly, lips moving gently against his. Then you smile, sincerely, before whispering—

“Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

this is a re-upload! (because i accidentally deleted the original one!) thank you notes: to @stellamancer for being there since the very start!! col wouldn’t even exist without you!! you’re every much part of the creation of this as i am :'), to @crysugu for being so ever supportive, cheering me on all the time!! and for loving col reader as much as i do!! and to you reading this and everyone else who has loved this collection so far!! of course!! a credit to all the writers whose works have inspired the way i view and write gojo: to @seravphs for teen dad!gojo and cruel summer influences, i draw so much of the way i understand these characters and their dynamics from you and your beautiful way of writing them and i hope my interpretation gives justice to that!!, to @augustinewrites for keeping up with the fushigojos, this series and the way you write them, with so much love, has always pushed for me to view gojo that way!! you’ve inspired so much of my understanding that gojo does believe in love and that when he falls in it, he falls in it hard!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #satoru #shotorus.writes #col #algorithm pls love me

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ariseur · 4 months

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hiii can i req a sephiroth fic where he's a new dad who doesn't really know how to hold his daughter but he wants to while reader mama is asleep hehe thanks

soft shushes left sephiroth’s lips as he held a finger up to them, trying his hardest to calm his little baby before she woke you up. her wails filled the room, bouncing off the walls as he cautiously extended his hand out inside her crib. the white wooden material of the cradle brushed against his hand as sephiroth grazed his daughter’s cheek, her soft skin smooth against his knuckle. she squirmed in her onesie, her head flopping against her small pillow while she sobbed.

“shhh— it’s alright.. your father’s here.” how foreign it felt for him to call himself a father in the third person, he still wasn’t used to it yet after four months of officially being a parent although he referred to himself so formally. it was almost comical to you.

he didn’t mind getting up and soothing the baby sometimes, but by the way you were stirring in your sleep when he woke up told him that this would be more diffficult than the previous times; especially considering how his daughter wouldn’t stop crying no matter what tricks he used this time. soft rattles, her pacifier, even her favorite bunny toy didn’t calm her down, instead smacking the plush away when greeted with it. such attitude, he thought. wonder where she got that from.

he cooed at her and rubbed at her cheeks, even going so far as to awkwardly jingle a toy in front of her— instead being met with her iron baby grip. until he finally realized, she wasnt calming down anytime soon. he dreaded having to pick his daughter up, having no experience with babies whatsoever made his fear even worse. he wasn’t built for being a father, and he certainly didn’t know how to handle children with baby talk, but he’d try his damndest to soothe his baby. even hearing her whines made his heart ache.

his rough hands slipped under her tiny body and lifted her head up first, trying to carefully pick her up without letting her wiggle herself out of his grip. his callouses caught on the soft fabric of her pajamas, and although he could pick her up with one hand so easily, he couldn’t take any chances on hurting his own baby. he’d never let himself live it down if he did.

she peeked one eye open at her father, the color similar to yours— and he couldn’t help but watch in awe as she stopped wailing for a split second, looking up at him with wonder. until she finally scrunched her eyes again; frown deepening before it opened again to release a cry.

he adjusted his hold on her, his mind thinking back to the times where he’s watched you hold her, the time where you had gotten back from the hospital and taken her home. sephiroth snaked a hand up behind her neck to support her head, his daughter’s sniffles and sobs gradually getting softer. he brought her to his chest, rocking her a little bit as he replicated your motions. usually, with enough time, she’d fall right back to sleep once she was held enough. looking down at her, she peered up at his mako green eyes in curiosity, watching as they curved with the small smile he gave her.

sephiroth brought her up to his upper chest, having her lean on his shoulder instead as he held her neck and placed his other hand under her bottom for support, rocking her as he hummed a soft lullaby he used to hear in his training days, more like a shanty if anything. although it certainly did the trick— the only thing left in his ear were soft noises and sniffles by the time he had already recited the song twice.

he let his eyes trail across her room, memories flooding back to him in an instant. with all the childproofing around the house, the small loosely colored drawings pinned on the wall, the overhead stars set up above the crib, everything reminded him of you. even looking at his baby girl, she had your eyes. he remembered a few years earlier, having a conversation with you of how you both craved domesticity, a nice life, something better than the one you already had. and now look at him, cradling his baby in his arms and singing sweet lullabies to lull her to a slumber. he never imagined this far into the future, but god, did it make him feel so warm.

sephiroth eyed the tiny couch in the nursery, littered with toys and cartons of formula. through the window behind it, he could see the lightening sky through the sliver of curtains beyond the sofa, signaling that it was probably time for you to wake up soon. he walked back over to the crib, his baby now calm and serene as her head kept lolling downwards when he put her back in his arms.

setting her back down in the cushioned crib, he slid down on the side of it and brought his knees to his chest, hugging them to himself. he listened to her sleepy coos and slight shuffling, waiting a while to ensure she truly fell asleep. when sephiroth looked back at her, his eyes lit up to see she had finally gone back to sleep.

breathing a sigh of relief, he let the back of his head rest against the cradle, closing his eyes with a breath of victory before letting himself fall asleep on his own, occasionally waking up and checking on her sleeping form— making sure that her chest is rising and falling the way it’s supposed to.

and when you woke up, rushing to your baby’s room as it had been way too quiet, you found sephiroth snug against the cradle with your daughter asleep inside, the soft twinkling of a lullaby playing from the overhead rotating mobile hanging above the crib. your mouth dropped into a silent ‘o’ as you took the sight in with awe, a hand flying up to cover your mouth.

sephiroth may not have known how to become a father, but nobody knows. all he knows is that he’d do anything for his baby, he’d do anything for you. your baby was a part of the both of you, a piece of evidence that proved that the both of you existed. below his glare is adoration, and he’ll do anything to protect the ones who have known him before anyone else has; for he is not a war hero, he is a father. he is a lover. he is merely, sephiroth.

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lvlyghost · 1 year

Text

The Things I Never Said: Part 3

Pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Summary: You're required for one last mission.

Word Count: 2.5k

Tw: aaaaaangst, hurt with a lot of comfort. injuries, mentions of blood, kissing and slightly suggestive but nothing too explicit. price has to make a hard choice:(poor grammar, bad english ofc💅🏻 foreshadowing to my price fic 'salvation' if you squint.

A/N: i'm not gonna lie, when i wrote the first part of this fic i was bored and never in a million years did it cross my mind y'all would like it this much. sorry if this isn't as good, this is the final part of it, although i plan to write little drabbles every now and then. this was such a nice ride 🩷✨ thx for the support; remember english isn't my first language, corrections are welcome 🤍🐸

Masterlist✨ Part 2

Desk rotation wasn't fun, but it seemed to be the only suitable work for you considering your pregnancy, besides, it would allow Simon to keep an eye on you. At least he's sure you'd be safer in the military base than alone in your home.

Your only companion as you sit in the tech room is nothing more than a computer with two screens and Jimmy, the other tech guy who sits in the far corner across from you.

True to his word, Price had saved you and Simon a horrible martial court plus being discharged. Technically you're no longer a part of the 141 task force which is already upsetting to all of your team; instead working strictly under Price's command and assisting the different branches of the military. Meaning you're no longer subdued to Lieutenant Riley, therefore you're not his subordinate, at least not directly.

You respond to Price and only Price.

Nearing the end of your first trimester your swollen belly has started to show, the same you try to dissimulate by wearing bigger shirts than you would usually wear, but enough for Simon to notice when he'd place a big calloused hand on your stomach.

'It's... tiny.' He had stated, to which you laughed softly.

'Of course it is, your hand is massive!'

You shake your head, with a small smile on your lips as you remember that scene.

"Everything good?" You ask your companion.

"Mhm. You know you're the best for creating the security system right? Not a single breach or flaw. Couldn't ask for a better partner."

"Is that a chai?" Completely ignoring what he just said you point the white disposable cup next to him. He looks between you and his drink.

"Yeah? Didn't know you liked it, here... have it. I can get another." He assures you when you hesitate.

You thank him with glowing eyes and excitement. Cravings... you're embarrassed of the amount of food you've asked from Simon in the middle of the night. Sushi, pizza and even peaches just for the sake of the baby.

He's being the gentlest man on earth. Caring and supportive. Your phone buzzes as you're about to start to work. The screen lights up with a message from your Captain. Huffing you stand up, letting Jimmy know you'll be back in a few minutes, or so you thought.

You're not prepared for the hell unfolding inside John's office.

You're able to hear male voices from the other side of the hallway. You don't know why but your heart begins to race, knocking twice once you've reached the brown wooden door.

"Come in!" Price shouts from inside.

You open the door, greeted by John's hardened eyes and Simon's back as he hunches over the Captain's desk. Confused and much to your dismay there's a gigantic folder between the two men, your eyes fall on Ghost's trembling frame.

He is enraged.

Body buzzing in anger as the soft click of the door interrupts the silence that's fallen suddenly inside.

"You wanted to see me Sir?"

Price slowly stands, Simon doing the same, turning his head ever so slightly to watch you from over his shoulder.

"I need to talk to you, sweetheart." Price begins.

A deep breath exits Simon's chest.

"What is it?" You take a step closer to them, until you're standing next to him, crossing his arms over his chest he remains silent.

"We need you. For a mission." He states. "It's important, sergeant. I don't think anyone else would be able to pull this off." Your eyes dart back to your boyfriend. Staring daggers at his superior. "I'd never ask for this if I had to."

"Bloody hell Price, she's not fucking going!" He is seething.

The gut-wrenching feeling sets in your belly, tossing and turning with anxiety. Simon isn't taking this well and you don't want to see him like this, it breaks your heart.

"How important, Sir?" You ask.

Ghost snaps his head towards you. Jaw tightening, and calls your name ever so softly.

"Don't." He barks. "Don't fucking play the hero, kid." He warns you.

"I'm not trying to play the hero, Simon." You talk back. "I'm trying to figure out how to get this done. I might have someone else that could go in my place." Price sighs. "Can I do it from the base? Maybe I don't have to leave the compound."

"Reports say the files are heavily encrypted. It's the Russians, sergeant. We're not dealing with amateurs." He turns to Ghost emphasizing the last word. "You more than anyone should understand, Lieutenant."

"Not when you're bloody sending her to a suicide mission!"

"These are not my orders Simon! General Shepherd wants her! I tried to talk him out of it. I can't do much more, son." You swallow when Simon starts pacing around like a rabid dog, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Is there any way I can do it? She can guide me through it the whole time..." he's back, leaning closer to his Captain. "I know I...-"

"Unless you know how to code and decrypt systems to perfection it can't be, Ghost. I'm sorry."

"It would only slow down the mission, get you caught. And in danger..." you reasoned, mumbling and staring down to your feet. There's no one else. Not even Jimmy. The one you had in mind.

Simon's mouth snapped shut.

His eyes are helpless when he connects them with yours. The realization of what's about to happen sinking in his core, he tried. He really did.

One long stride and he's embracing you, so tightly you think you'll suffocate; you hug him back, head resting right over where his heart beats frantically against his ribcage.

"I'm coming with her." He snarls. "Not Kyle, not Johnny. And certainly not someone from fucking KorTac." He turns to glare at Price with a death stare. "It'll be me, no one else."

"John's devastated." You tell him. Your back pressing against his hard chest. The water in the bathtub is warm, and smells like lavender and sandalwood. After the catastrophic meeting a few hours ago, Simon was too outraged to remain at the base so he drove both of you back to the safety of his apartment. You rest your head on his left shoulder, enjoying the delicate touch of his hands on your lower belly. He hums, almost absentmindedly. He didn't want to think about Price, or the mission for all that matters. All he can think of is you. He sighs, closing his eyes he presses a kiss on your hair.

"Bloody fucking bald cunt." He spits. You snort at his comment. Shepherd was a complicated man, and hardly one you could negotiate with once he had his mind set on something or someone.

"When do we have to...-"

"Tomorrow." Your lips are pressed into a thin line. "I'll be there no matter what, right next to you, love." He reassures you. You were never one to hesitate during missions but now... releasing a shaky breath you turn your head to look at Simon.

"I'm scared..." Simon's body goes rigid. The hand on your stomach halting. "It's not even for me, you know?" Swallowing your free hand reaches down to find his own, lacing your fingers with him. A muscle becoming prominent in his jaw as he grits his teeth.

"Nothing will happen to you. Bloody count on it, yeah? First shite I deem dangerous I'm pulling us out of there, understand?" You nod.

"Promise me you won't get hurt." There's a moment of silence that becomes unbearable the longer it extends. "Simon..." his eyes are fixated on yours, shining with what you can only describe as worship. The faintest of smiles spreads across his features.

"Don't you worry about me, sweetheart. Not for one second." Breathing deeply you pull him down for a kiss. It's slow and tender; makes you forget about all the difficulties you face. Biting down his lip, Simon takes it as a sign to further deepen the kiss. Tongues finding each other in a fight for dominance. "Don't wanna think about what tomorrow holds. I have you here right now. That's all I need."

Your mind goes back to the moments you and Simon shared last night. It was so simple, so real.

That's how things were supposed to be.

Easy.

Not heart wrenching, not stifling down a cry as you watch him get shot. A bullet that was aimed at you .Breaking in had been easy. Way too easy for your liking. But you thought that for once maybe a mission wouldn't be a pain in the ass. The hardest part was getting inside their systems; John was right. It was hellish even for you. It took more time than what you had anticipated. No one would've been able to pull it off.

"Whoever is behind this, they're good." You acknowledged as you type down the codes that will eventually get you in.

"Bloody brilliant you are, kid." Simon watches from the other side of the room, eyes scanning the hallway every now and then looking for any possible hostiles. You send him a coy smile.

"Keep looking at me like that and I'll get no work done."

"How am I supposed to look at you then?" He asks

You don't answer because the screen in front of you suddenly shifts from 'Access denied' to 'Access granted'.

"Got you." You whisper. Simon stands straight. You plug your USB and start downloading all the information as well as setting a virus so their system gets permanently damaged.

"What is it?" He gruffly asks when the files finished downloading on your own device. Clearing your throat you try to ignore the horrible pictures you just took a glimpse of.

"Just... insanity." Is all you can say. A loud metallic sound echoes in the room, you never get to see the person behind you. Ghost's eyes widen and he barks an order your ears don't register, static fills your eardrums. The gunfire starts but lasts mere seconds. Crimson blood splutters from Simon's body.

You stand up, knocking down the chair as you jump out and run where Simon's injured body kneels. You fall down grabbing him by the face. The pain you're feeling deep inside has never been worse.

"I'm fine." He hisses. "Just my fucking shoulder."

As if that would make you feel better.

"Let's get the hell out of here." Your lips quiver. You run back to retrieve the small USB drive.

The body of a man lays down, a pool of blood forms around him. He was hiding behind you the entire time. Had Simon been distracted the outcome could've been atrocious. Yo don't dwell on it.

"Come on, baby." You urge him, crouching down to help Simon as much as you can to get him standing. His weight is just too much for you, you think, when he finally raised to his feet.

"S'okay love. Don't... don't overwork yourself. I'm too heavy, don't wanna get you hurt because of me."

Tears form in the corner of you eyes at such selfless act.

"You're the one who got hurt because of me, Simon." You stammer.

"So what? Would fucking die for you." You shake your head but keep close to him. Pressing down the wound on his shoulder as you head towards the exit. "Evac point is ten minutes away. We should be fine." The gun that rests on your thigh feels heavier than it should.

You're lucky, you guess as you walk away from the god forsaken building.

Lucky that you have him by your side, even when his blood stains your fingers. He's there, you're there and you're making it out alive. Wounded or not, Simon would never let anything happen to you, that's how deep his love for you was.

He wasn't like his dad at all.

He was real, caring, something not much people knew. Not in their lifetime.

The amount of blood he was losing was inhumane. An injured shoulder couldn't cause someone to lose this much blood, you ponder. Your black shirt feels sticky and damp, you take a quick glance and hold back a sob. Another gunshot wound, one he didn't care enough to tell you about and you didn't notice, too scared to even think.

Far in the distance between two big threes a black truck awaits. Johnny's face dropping when he noticed Ghost's decaying form. He rushes in your direction, taking him off of you, carrying his weight. He gives you a concerned look.

"Johnny..." you choke up. "We have to save him, please."

It's been the worst 48 hours of your life since you landed. He got two surgeries done in order to remove the fragments from inside his body. You were exhausted, barely ate or slept. It almost felt criminal, selfish, when your eyes started to close and finally gave in.

Then the nightmares came.

Ones where he didn't make it back and instead you had to leave him behind and never got to meet his child.

A warm feeling spreads from your skin. A faint touch. Are you still dreaming? His face erupts in your subconscious mind and you cry again. He's fine.

When you slowly open up your eyes you're met with blue eyes and a raspy voice.

"Don't neglect yourself for me, kid." You're speechless, the searing pain in your heart eases. He knows you so well. Knows you haven't left his side. "Takes more than a bullet to keep me away from you." When you don't move nor speak he continues, clearing his throat. "Come here, sweet thing."

There's a new wave of tears that fall mercilessly down your cheeks. You carefully climb up next to Simon's good side.

"Don't you ever scare me like that!" you weep. Sobbing uncontrollably Simon hushes you. Murmuring words of comfort in your ear. The anesthesia is still making him feel dizzy but that doesn't stop him from kissing every part of your face. Your hair, your forehead, your cheek and finally your lips.

"Let's leave this place for a while. Go on vacation while we still can..." you beg.

Simon's lips twitch. He's smiling down at you.

"What do you have in mind doll?"

You breathe deeply.

"Greece. I always wanted to go to Greece."

There's moments in life when you doubt you'll get a happy ending. Being with Simon at first was pure coincidence, something that had evolved from deep admiration and respect, which then turned into something more. It turned out to sleepless nights at the common room with the task force. Longing stares during briefings. Looking after each other during missions.

The training sessions together. Lending his massive leather jacket because you were always reluctant to bring your own. That one night he couldn't resist it anymore and went to your dorm. How you felt under his touch, oh he was touch starved when it came to you. And when he learned he was going to be a father, that moment would be ingrained into his memory until his very last day.

"Greece it is."

It's a promise.

TAGS:

@nijiru @illyanam1011

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod mw22 #cod ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #call of duty ghost simon riley #john price x reader #soap mactavish x reader #cod simon riley #simon riley #cod simon ghost riley #simon riley x you

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archangeldyke-all · 2 months

Note

Omg

Sev and reader introducing little fucker to Silco after she’s born?? My heart🥹

GAWDDDDD

men and minors dni

silco's always been better with children than with adults. they make more sense to him. children are up front, they say what they mean, they don't lie. they're simple. they're easy to please. a card trick, a coin pulled from behind their ear-- that's all it takes to get a kid smiling and laughing and squealing.

so, when silco finds out that his best friend is expecting: he's thrilled.

i've mentioned this before, but silco actually makes himself the godfather of your kid. obviously; you guys were going to ask him to be the godfather anyways, but you were going to ask after the baby was born.

silco showed up on your doorstep when you were five months pregnant, a box of diapers on his hip, a cardboard box with a crib printed on it propped up on the wall beside him.

"silco? it's saturday, do you and sev have a weekend meeting?" you ask, worried. silco chuckles and walks into your house like he owns it.

"no, dear, i'm here to begin my godfatherly duties. sevika told me you haven't gotten a crib for the nursery yet, and it's never too early to start a stock of diapers." he says, handing you the box of diapers and starting to drag the boxed crib inside after him.

he's a huge help during the pregnancy, surprisingly. he's always letting sevika take time off-- to go to all your appointments with you and to help you once the baby comes.

during your pregnancy, he stops by your house once or twice a week, sometimes after work with sevika, sometimes on his own; always with a new toy or onesie for the baby, and a bottle of whiskey for sev, and takeout from whatever place you're craving for you.

silco's always been the closest thing sevika has to family, you've always been happy to welcome him into your life and home. but, you've never really seen the two bond.

they're both stand-offish people, they communicate in their own telepathic language, developed over years spent working and living together. but, when they talk about the baby, they both glow.

one of your fondest memories from your pregnancy was watching sevika show silco the sonogram of your little girl. it was the first time you'd seen the two of them hug. it was the first time you'd seen silco cry. he'd even wrapped you up into a tight hug, kissing your head and then awkwardly patting your belly.

he's one of the only people you let meet little fucker when she's still a newborn.

you and sevika are paranoid, first-time parents. you're also both huge homebodies. you have no desire to drag your weeks old daughter around town and show her off to all your germ covered family and friends.

but, your best friend, your family, and silco-- they're different.

silco's there at the hospital when you're in labor. he and sevika share a cigar in the parking lot when little fucker's safely delivered. he meets the baby then, cooing down at the bundle of blankets in your arms; but mostly, he's just there to check in on your and sev.

then, about a month into her life, you invite silco over to formally meet his god daughter for the first time.

you dress little fucker in one of the outfits silco'd picked out for her months ago, and you watch in fascination as the stoic man bursts into tears for a second time when he takes his god daughter in his arms for the first time.

sevika just laughs, and wraps her arm around her best friend.

"she looks just like you." silco sniffles, his eyes quickly flashing between sevika's face and your daughter's, comparing their features.

"tell me about it. i carried the little shit around for nine months, and she decides to come out lookin' like sev instead." you pout from the couch. sevika giggles and kisses your scalp.

silco chuckles through his tears, and then presses a gentle kiss to little fucker's head. "she's beautiful." he whispers.

you smile and nod, and sevika chokes on her tears beside you.

"yeah, she is." you whisper.

once a week, from the day she's born, silco will come over and take little fucker out for an afternoon.

sometimes he takes her for a stroll, sometimes he takes her to his place, sometimes he takes her along to run errands with him. it doesn't matter. he just gives you and sevika a few hours, every week, to just... relax. you're pretty sure it's the only thing that kept you sane for the first year of motherhood.

little fucker loves her uncle silco. he spoils her to no end, and he's not scared of you or sevika, so he'll blatantly disobey your rules in your own home to make your daughter smile. plus, he's not the one that has to deal with the sugar rush that comes two hours after he shovels candy in your daughter's mouth.

when she starts talking, little fucker calls silco 'unky silly.' he blushes every time she says it, but can't find the heart to try to correct his god daughter.

their favorite place to go is the aquarium. silco likes the sharks, little fucker likes alligators. they can spend the entire day there, just pointing at the animals and fish to one another.

i think little fucker's born when jinx is like 7, so it's the perfect age for jinx to absolutely adore her baby cousin.

jinx is the youngest of her siblings, so she never got to have someone look up to her. but little fucker worships the ground jinx walks on, and it's a huge boost to her self esteem. (it also makes her behave better, at least when she's in front of your daughter. she wants to be a good example.)

when jinx isn't in school or with her siblings, she's always accompanying silco on his little fucker dates. you can count on your daughter being returned from silco's house with at least three braids in her head.

you get all of jinx's baby clothes as hand me downs for little fucker, which only makes jinx all the more convinced that little fucker is actually just her baby.

sure, you and sevika made the kid, but it was just a gift for jinx, right?

it's hard for you to deny that accusation when you watch the two play, all the older kids wrestling in the back yard while jinx, ekko, and little fucker all arrange their teddy bears and action figures in seated positions for a tea party, jinx patiently waiting for little fucker to pick out the perfect hat for her to wear.

this isn't to say her older cousins don't love her. mylo, claggor and vi are constantly flinging her around, giving her piggy backs and tossing her in the air and giving you mini heart attacks. it's just that her and jinx have a special bond.

but, as much as she adores jinx, she will always hug her unky silly first.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re

@raphaellearp @iamastar

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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mvltisstuff · 10 months

Text

how to never stop being sad - e.b

summary: bucks parents believe they can just forget what they put him through as a child, but y/n won’t let them.

evan buckley x reader.

og gif

a/n: i realized that buck found out about daniel way later than i thought… my image was the dinner for buck begins, and then my dumb brain thought he knew abt daniel for a while 😭 just pretend he knew while you read :))

bucks mother and father somehow think that evan doesn’t remember everything they did. they think he doesn’t care about every scream, every argument, every neglectful moment between him and his sister. but, really, buck remembers all of it.

he loves his parents and he always has, but he doesn’t understand why they make it so hard to like them. he craved love and affection from them, only to be met with their hand in his face and their words in his mind. he knows all about grief, it makes you a different person. he feels awful for his parents, but he wishes they could deal with it better than leave him in the dust.

on a brighter side, buck was finally able to stop begging for adoration. when y/n came into that station, his entire purpose was changed around. he knew he was made for loving her, and he was finally accepted. buck finally felt smart, loved, important to someone.

y/n left a mark on buck from the moment they met. he could tell by her bubbly but confident personality that they’d fit together like stars in the sky. whenever y/n was around, he never once felt like he was asking for the compliments or love she showered him with. she looked genuinely proud to call him her boyfriend, and it melted the heart of the little kid inside of him that just wanted someone to tell him that he was important.

she gave him everything his parents never did and she never once complained. y/n have buck a definition of love, and when someone asked him what it meant, he’d say her name.

now, even years after they’ve been dating, y/n never once spoke to bucks parents. maddie had told them he was in a healthy, happy relationship, but they never cared to check in on him. the days had drastically changed, along with the life of his sister.

she’s becoming a mother, so their parents are becoming grandparents. y/n didn’t really think it would be a problem that they came to visit, until it quickly backfired.

buck quickly realized that they weren’t here for him, and they he barely existed in their book. he hoped that maybe he was overthinking it, but noticed the lack of care they had of his life and the severe amount of judgement in their words. it’s like when they walked in the door, buck felt like the small boy standing at the top of the stairs for his parents again, or the teenager sitting at the table taking every insult they had.

their parents pulled out maddie’s “baby box”, but they must’ve left bucks at home to collect dust, if there was even anything to leave. they crazed over maddies belly and the life she was carrying, praising her for the life she had built for herself. buck just sat there, just wanting to go home and lay in y/n’s arms and get his own comforting.

the night of the dinner came rapidly, buck critiquing everything about himself in the mirror before he went, perfecting his words and his appearance before y/n came grabbing his hand. “it’ll be ok.”

“i know, it’s just been so long and i don’t want them to be rude to you, too,” buck sighs, turning to face y/n.

“they don’t hurt me, you know that. i just don’t want you to get upset.”

“let’s get this over with, yeah? and then we can come home?”

“don’t have to tell me twice.”

y/n and buck arrived soon after his parents, seeing them stand from off the couch with his mothers hands clasped together in front of her. maddie pulls y/n into her grasp from not seeing her due to a busy schedule. chimney and buck hug casually, even though they’d just seen each other. he notices his parents standing there, looking at y/n as she cautiously steps over.

“oh, mom, dad, this is y/n,” buck tells them, his hand landing on her waist. “my girlfriend.”

“it’s nice to meet you guys.” y/n says, exchanging awkward glances with his parents. they nod politely.

“y/n, we got your favorite!” maddie grins, holding a bottle of wine in her hands and looking at it long-fully. y/n laughs, walking over to take the bottle from her as they converse.

“maddie, i’ll make the table for you, sweetie.” their mother says, grabbing plates and napkins for everyone as she starts placing them by the seats.

“here, mom, i’ll help you,” buck says, offering a hand to his mother as y/n stands besides his father.

“so, y/n,” the tall man with the glasses speaks. “what do you do for work?” he asks, sipping his beer.

“oh, i work at the fire station with b-evan and howie.” she remembers the little things, the dislike of nicknames and how buck and maddie never had one. y/n can see the slight disappointment in her fathers face, but can’t quite place why.

“i see.” he says, his voice raising slightly but she can tell he’s slightly unimpressed. y/n just keeps pouring wine into her glass. maddie can already sense the tension, silently cursing her dad for the reaction he had.

“dad.” maddie whispers so buck doesn’t hear.

“yes, maddie?” he questions back, not understanding his tone toward the woman besides him that he’s known for twenty minutes.

“nothing, it’s fine.”

“hey, honey,” buck whispers in y/n’s ear, placing his hands on the counter in front of him.

“hi! how are you feeling?”

“i’m fine, it’s only been like a half hour.”

“i know, just checking in.” she places a hand on his cheek, making maddie smile at the affection she has toward buck.

the food had eventually been delivered, and everyone sat around the table to finally eat. buck pulled out y/n’s chair, letting her sit and then taking the one next to her. chimney sat with maddie, and then their parents took the other end of the table.

the conversation turned almost immediately into the subject of work, maddie talking about some of her calls and chimney speaking about paramedic duties. it seemed they had no interest about buck, not finding much impression in the details about his job, despite it being one of the strongest.

“well, speaking of hospitals, i’ve heard that evan has been spending a lot of time in them.” bucks dad speaks up, placing his napkin folded on the table.

“you’ve heard?” buck mutters under his breath, not wanting to cause a scene but secretly hoping they heard it. y/n could feel the burning tension between buck and his parents, so she ran his hand over his thigh, trying to find his hand that rested near his knee before locking fingers with him. “you could’ve seen for yourself.”

“oh, evan you know how-“

“you don’t like hospitals, got that.”

“i don’t like seeing my children in them.” the womans eyes start to water, thinking back to all the horrific times in the hospital. maddie mumbles to her mother before shaking her head, bringing her moms statement to a close. “we never lost hope on you, evan.”

“yeah, like you did on maddie?” he snaps, leaning back in his seat and staring down his parents.

“evan, let’s not do this.” maddie says, the discomfort clear in her face as everyone’s heart races, fearing the conflict in the room.

“you guys didn’t even go to her wedding, let alone go back for her when she made a mistake and you cut her off!”

their parents barely look at buck. “maddie, we didn’t know he was hurting you, i swear-“

“you should have! you should’ve known, but it checks out because you never knew what was going on even when we was living with you!” he stands up.

“buck, c’mon,” y/n speaks, attempting his hand before he gets too far away. he manages to slip out of her grasp, leaving her to rest her head in her hands as he continues.

“you think my job is dangerous- i have walked through fire every single day of my life because of you. that is why i’m in therapy! because nothing i ever did was good enough!”

“we tried! you guys didn’t make it easy on us” their dad speaks up, making y/n shoot her head up at the older couple at the table next to her.

“we were supposed to? we were kids.” maddie says sadly.

so, buck stands there, begging for love in the center of the room, feeling like a circus act. if he didn’t know better, he’d think they’d all be pointing and laughing at him. besides one. y/n sat there, staring at his parents before looking back at him. she stands up, letting buck try and grab her hand and walk out. if he wants to leave, she will always follow him.

he opens the door, and he steps out, unable to hear the next sentence from his mother.

“neither of you think about how hard it is for your father and i! you only think about yourselves!”

y/n stops in her tracks, “buck, go wait by the car i’ll be out in a minute.” he just goes out, not wanting to waste another minute in that room that he could be spending alone with y/n. “only think about themselves?”

“what?” their mother whimpers out.

“you’re insinuating that you have selfish children, and it honestly checks out considered how much you’ve missed. did you forget what your kids do? did you forget about the lives they save on a daily basis? maddie is the reason half of our calls come out successfully, and buck is one of the highest ranked for his position. and you want to call him selfish? you don’t get to call him anything until you take an actual look at his life. you don’t see him walk out of these buildings with scared and hurt children or people yelling in pain and he can somehow manages to give them hope! you don’t see the effect you have on him and it honestly breaks my heart for him. you don’t see how you casually ripped him up and expected other people to put him back together. you don’t deserve to just come back here and act like you’re completely innocent! you sit here and act like you are angels. truth is that evan did everything on his own and didn’t deserve the shit he got from you. the person he is today has nothing to do with you and you don’t get any credit for how he became the man he is.”

y/n doesn’t stay long enough to see the effect of her words on his parents. she can imagine the tears from the confrontation that their mother can’t handle. it infuriates her that they think they can fix the damage they did in a day, if they even think they did any.

she storms down the stairs, eager to see buck outside and make up for all the loving he missed previously. she sees him leaning against y/n’s passenger door, staring at the concrete with his arms crossed. his hair is lightly blowing in the wind along with his sweater being pressed against his body. y/n can see the subtle shimmering in his eyes as he looks at the ground and she can almost hear the cracks in his heart. it’s like they managed to add another wound to him, just confirming that they didn’t care about him.

y/n steps on the cement sidewalk toward him, her heels clicking loudly against the ground so he could hear her coming. he doesn’t look up. he keeps his eyes glued to the ground in almost a shameful way. he hates that he can’t stand up to his parents, and he hates that y/n had to do it for him, but he needed it.

“let’s go home, baby.” y/n says, standing at the front of the car. “buck.” she speaks his name again, anger still radiating off her body as she waits for him to look up at him. his head tilts up, looking at her as her gaze softens at his expression. she doesn’t hesitate to walk over and grab onto him, letting his body fall into her, taking some of the weight off his shoulders.

“i know, it’s ok.” she whispers into his ear sweetly as the tears run down his face. he doesn’t want to be sobbing in the parking lot with in his girlfriends arms, but he can’t help it.

he doesn’t bother to say anything, he just lets himself feel. he lets himself feel her hand rubbing his back and the other wrapped around his shoulders. he lets himself listen to the gentle words escaping her lips and allow them to soothe his mind. he lets himself tower over her and almost fall into her grasp and he lets her take over. he knows that she has him, and the safety net beneath him was built by her.

he might not have his parents support or their faith through his life, but the surplus that y/n gives to him is enough to fill every ocean in the world.

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florenceafternoon · 7 months

Text

━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━

Because I will never get tired of them, here are some more fic recs. These fics are set in the wizarding world but aren’t necessarily canon complaints.

For reference, anything in italics is an extract from the summaries on ao3.

Never Quite Awake by @sunshinemarauder

“Endings are nothing unfamiliar to Lily Evans; she’s seen the ends of sisterhood, friendship, and innocence, all from miles away. But this is an end unlike any other. An end that was never supposed to happen.”

If to love someone once is to break their heart, to love them twice is to break yours.

Lily falls for James in her seventh year. But the couple are sent onto two diverging paths when a life-shattering altercation halts their burgeoning relationship. Five years later, she's a curse breaker and he is a soldier.

When they meet again, it feels like coming home.

All the angst that comes with a jily second chance romance that takes place during wartime. A fake dating subplot, cursebreaker!Lily, pining!James. What more could you want. France (country) - a relevant tag

Through The Rain by @bookeatingbean

James and Lily's first kiss, and the story behind it. There's some fluff, some character study, and some good old-fashioned angst.

If you're looking for a character study that shows how they grew up through their school years. This fic shows you that Lily was not a perfect person and James was a bully for the sake of it but he grew to understand that the world does not revolve around him and strives to do better. Or Lily is stubborn and James is the definition of a ride-or-die

It's been a long time by writtenbyfreckles (on ao3)

It's been ten years since Lily left Hogwarts. She's returned to England to work as a Healer on the "ward of the wacky", only to find home isn't as safe as she thought it was. An attack leaves her locked in a ward with her patients, a bunch of Death Eaters and an Auror she hasn't seen for a long time.

I need more cannon divergence Auror!James and Healer!Lily

The Guide To Becoming A Better Man For Lily Evans by @padfootswhiskers

prompt: I decided to walk outside shirtless (accidentally) but I forgot it's winter and why're you screaming at me like that? And oh gosh, you're very pretty.

lingering days, short-lived nights by letthebookbegin (on ao3)

The summer before seventh year, James is desperately trying to think of anything but Lily, who's burrowed her way into his mind and looks quite comfortable there.

The summer before seventh year, Lily is craving a distraction. Avoiding her sister, she picks an ice cream shop for shelter.

At the end of a long summer day, their paths cross - and the rest, as they say, is history.

Ties That Bind by @charmsandtealeaves

Lily Evans grew up with old wives tales about soul mates, but she'd never put much stock in the idea. Not until after she learned about the world of magic and the fact that soul bonds were a thing that actually existed. Which makes these strange new feelings and experiences that much more difficult to manage.

So I read this a while ago but stupidly forgot to bookmark it and then I spent nearly an hour trying to find it again. Needless to say, I ADORE this fic and you should all go read it. Like, right now. Then come back here to talk to me about it.

Lily Evans Doesn't Believe In I Love You's also by @/ charmsandtealeaves

“Did you hear Lily Evans doesn’t believe in I love you's?”

It wasn’t exactly a secret. But no one knew why, until she decided to share a bottle of fire whiskey in the astronomy tower with James Potter.

Same Lily, same

Meet Me At The River also by @/ charmsandtealeaves

A chance encounter with a misplaced owl leads to a correspondence between pen pals. Lily confides in her mysterious Flea and finds herself falling along the way.

I can't remember if I've recommended this one already, but even if I have I'll rec it again because I love it so much!!

Your Friend, James by @thelighthousestale

It is the summer before their 7th year, and Lily and James spend the entire holiday writing letters to each other as their relationship slowly changes from friends to something more.

Just the ending of this one is everything. James and Sirius are never beating the codependent allegations

Castling by @missgryffin

When they were still very young, Remus Lupin’s dad married Lily Evans’ mum. It changes everything.

Lily and Remus are like the little brother who got bullied and then found friends except he invited them over for the first time and they all act weird because they're mildly terrified of his older sister. Friends to lovers jily is only rivaled by academic rivals jily.

Just the Two of Us by @arianatwycross

Head Students James and Lily face a perilous twist when a malicious potion surfaces in hate mail directed at Lily. Dumbledore orders a week-long quarantine in the Head Students' suite. With unspoken crushes lingering, the duo navigates close quarters, leading to unexpected revelations, lingering looks and forehead kisses.

silence and patience, pining in anticipation by @kay-elle-cee

Lily’s been hung up on James for years; a tipsy conversation might be the push she needs to do something about it.

DRESS IS A JILY SONG FOREVER AND ALWAYS

The Devil in the Cloak Room by @chiechie97

Getting your heart broken when you’re 17 seems to alter your brain chemistry more than you would think. Which is the precise reason why Lily has no intention of reconnecting with the friends she lost at the end of school.

And besides, she has no chance of knowing anyone at the masked Halloween party her friend drags her to. Especially not the guy in the devil mask. Right?

Usually I rec complete works but this one is so good I had to include it

Deception and other ways to find love by @annasghosts

“I’ll be your fake girlfriend, Potter.” And this is how Lily Evans embarks on the adventure of (fake) dating her former Hogwarts nemesis (and crush, but ssssh, it’s a secret). Will she be able to keep her cool? Will he?

Class of '78 by @emeralddoeadeer

Class of 1978 Five Year Reunion - July 29th, 1983

Now is the time to look upon our shared experience, our similarities must unite us rather than letting our differences divide us. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry invites the Graduating Class of 1978 to return to the castle for a weekend of reconnecting, reminiscing and recreation. We hope the passage of time has been kind to you all and look forward to welcoming you soon.

Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster, Order of Merlin First Class, Grand Sorc, DWiz, X.J sorc, S of Mag Q

It's been five years since graduation, and while many things have changed, some things never will.

James Potter Won't Go Quietly by la_plus_heureuse (on ao3)

Lily Evans remembers plenty about James Potter from Hogwarts. But an assignment from Mojo Magazine to profile the Quidditch star turned activist makes her realize what she remembered was all wrong.

canon divergence staring quidditch player James and journalist Lily

On A Scale of One to Ten (requires an ao3 account) by @petalsinwoodvale

Lily starts falling for an insecure, yet charming auror named James who is recovering from injury in her ward. No one else on staff will sit and talk to him, mostly due to septic skin covering most of his upper torso. Lily, however, finds him charming and funny. Naturally, when James' injuries start healing, he grows more and more handsome. The other healers suddenly take interest in James, romantically ...

foxy by lizpaige (on ao3)

Lily joins the boys at the shrieking shack on a particularly difficult moon in her new animagus form.

Lily & Remus friendship is so special to me

#jily fic rec #jily #jple #lily x james #lily evans #james potter

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green-tea-in-absinthe-bottle · 12 days

Text

I don't want to be alone tonight...

(very fluffy smut under cut, body worship, bj)

You felt slightly anxious standing in front of Aventurine's door. Not that you weren't used to visiting him, you knew his bed as well as your own. For the past two years you have been coming here twice a week, except days when Aventurine was out on a mission.

It started as a simple deal between two lonely people, something to fill the void in your lives, to break the silence of the darkest nights, the kind of nights that bring memories so livid you can almost feel everything like it happend yesterday.

It was easier to survive them when you had a hand to hold and passion to distract yourself with. It was never just sex. There was a deep, raw sense of comfort in it, melancholic and silent. You barely spoke during those meetings, there was nothing to confess when you laid down with all your wounds wide open anyways.

Today it was different. He contacted you on the day usually not reserved for your meetings, at 4 am. Even through the phone you could hear how tired he was, how weak he felt tonight. With heart filled with worry you rushed to his place. As soon as you ringed the bell the door opened, revealing young man with dark circles under his eyes.

You expected him to flirt with you or joke around like he always did, but none of that happend. He took you by the hand and guided you to his bed with no words.

You glanced outside his bedroom window, taking in breathtaking sight of skyscrapers lit up with neon lights that never dimmed but couldn't outshine the stars above them. You looked up to constellations with hope, finding solace in vastness of the universe. Among all it's planets there must be a place where even you could find peace one day.

- Look at me. - Aventurine whispered. You obeyed, alarmed by his serious tone. He seemed so different tonight. - I don't really like it when you get so nostalgic. It feels like you escape somewhere inside yourself, to a place where I can't follow. I am left wondering if you are really by my side or is it just your body here.

- I am right here with you. - you reassured him, moving your body closer to his. - As mindfull as one can be at such early hour.

He didn't watch your every move like he used to. Normally his eyes didn't leave you when you were in his personal space, always analysing your intentions and predicting your next step. Well, maybe he was just too tired for games today. It wouldn't be the first time this megacorp he worked for sucked the soul out of him. But it's the first time he seemed so vulnerable in front of you. Knowing him this could be the last time as well.

You decided to enjoy the moment while it lasts and gently pushed him on the pillows. His golden locks spread over the silk, framing his face in straight up angelic way. You run your fingers through his hair, and he didn't object, so you bend down to kiss him. His lips were warm and welcoming. He opened his mouth, allowing you to slide your tongue in as much as you wanted to.

You realised he let you control the situation. He never did that before, even when you were on top of him he was the one to choose your pace despite his provocative words. You always respected his need to be the one in charge due to his past, you understood why he craves to decide what is happening with his body for once, so you just followed whatever he initiated. Why did it change? You weren't sure if you want to know judging by how defeated he looked tonight.

You kissed his clenched jaw, the tip of his nose, his forehead. Your fingers tenderly massaged his scalp. He exhaled loudly. Testing the waters you unbottoned his shirt a little, leaving another kiss on uncovered skin. Aventurine closed his eyes and stretched. Taking it as a good sign you undid the rest of his buttons so you could admire his toned but slim chest. This time he didn't even care if you pay attention to his scars, but once upon a time he only had you with lights turned down so you can't see them.

You licked a straight line from his collarbones, through the valley between his chest muscles and abs to his happy trail, just when you were about to pull his pants down he grabbed your hand.

- Why so fast, friend? - he purred seductively, taking off his shirt. Playful smirk returned to his face. - You aren't done here yet.

He sat up and pulled you into his lap to give you a kiss, put his hand on the back of your head and directed your face into his neck, right were his burned mark was.

You were shocked cause no matter how much he paraded this mark, in the past he tensed up when you touched anywhere near that spot. Afraid to spoil the moment you quickly recovered and kissed over the scar as gently as you could. His grip on your head loosened up completely, he slid his palm down your back and rubbed circles all over it. You embraced him as well, caressing his sides. You kissed over the scars littering his shoulder and arm, down to the knuckles of his hand. He pushed his long fingers lito your mouth and you licked and sucked on them obediently. Once he was satisfied with your display of affection he pulled them out and finally moved back to take his pants down.

With only his panties on, Aventurine sat on the verge of bed with spread legs. You immediately kneeled down at his feet and kissed up his thigh. He giggled softly, once again placing his hand on you head and caressing your hair. You went higher, kissing over his clothed semi-erection till it hardened fully, then up to his belly button and back down to his dick while getting his covered by saliva panties out of the way.

You left open mouthed kisses on sides of his dick before swirling your tongue over his tip and sucking on it. Whimpers of pleasure that got out of his throat encouraged you to take the rest of his member into your mouth. Saliva dropped down your chin while you hollowed your cheeks around him.

He came faster than you expected, releasing beautiful moan. You didn't even know he could sound like that, he always controlled his mouth in bed either moaning in obscene way to wrap you around his finger or keeping quiet to not show how weak he is for you. This sound was honest, not so loud but his voice broke a little, proving you did well for him. He collapsed on bed, but his eyes never left your body.

You undressed under his lustful gaze, letting your summer dress slip off and show your lacy underwear. You laid down next to him, on your left side, and he turned to face you. His agile hands quickly unraveled cords holding your bra and panties together. Aventurine pulled you close to himself and kissed you, tickling your sides. You melt into his strong embrace and brush his hair away from his face with your fingers. His hand reached down and massaged your cunt when his lips found your breasts and wraped around your nipple. You kissed his head and played with his hair when he was busy prepering you for what comes next.

- I can't wait anymore. - Aventurine broke the silence. - I need to be inside of you.

- I want to cum so badly, I need this. - you whined out climbing on top of him.

You pushed him inside of you, not letting yourself adjust fully before going up and down on it. His thick girth massaged and ruined your insides in the most delightful way. Sounds of wetness and skin slapping against skin turned you on so much, but quiet moans and heavy breathing of your lover were even better. Your legs felt weak at the sight of his blushed cheeks, eyes dark with desire and sweat driping down his perfect body.

You felt your orgasm approaching but you tired to hold it in so you can both cum at the same time. Aventurine saw right through you and pinched your clit fast, making you finish. You squirted over his abdomen, pushing him to his own release. You collapsed into his arms and he held you till you both calmed down.

- Thank you. I had a really hard day at work. - he sighed, holding you even closer.

- I figured this out. - you admitted. - I'm happy I could help you make this day at least a bit better.

-You sure did. - he chuckled. He looked you deep in your eyes with the most charming smile you could imagine. - Can I ask you for one little favour?

You raised your eyebrow at him.

- What kind of favour?

- You see, I have this big corporation party next week. Would you like to go there as my partner? Most people will bring their plus one. - he winked at you. - Don't worry about anything, I will buy you proper dress and introduce you to everybody.

- I guess I could give it a try. - you agreed hesitantly. Gambler instantly rewarded you with his brightest smile.

#honkai star rail #honkai x reader #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #x reader

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hanasnx · 8 months

Note

Waaaaitttt I saw the Hayden suggestions and I’ve unashamedly thought about the very top one many many times cause I’m embarrassingly craving that y/n moment and I’ve gone to a decent amount of cons and met a fair amount of celebs I’ve debated about using one of the pheromone perfumes to meet Hayden. But like yess he sees you during the photo op and he’s instantly drawn to you. He doesn’t pay much attention to that thought cause he’s got a long line to get through and photo ops are fast paced but then when you go up to get your autograph that’s when he can sneakily make a move. When you get an autograph the handlers write your name for the celeb on a sticky note and usually the celeb doesn’t take it off so like I’m thinking he quickly scribbles his number on it and you’re so star struck you don’t notice it until you’re away from his table..but that’s how you end up in his hotel room that night with your legs up over your head.

-Bimbo Baggins

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: i gatekept this message it was so good

HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN tries to stay in his lane. Over the years he's gotten exceptionally good at minding his business, minding his manners, and staying out of trouble. Mixing business with pleasure is a very steep cliff, one he rarely dares to approach. However, you had caught his eye in a way that hadn't occurred in a very long time. To give everyone fair treatment during these photo ops, his attention is solely on them during, and he did not mind at all holding your gaze when you shook his hand politely. Habitually, when you'd leaned over in front of him to give one of the attendants something he didn't care to look at, he snuck a generous glance at your ass. As soon as you stepped back to stand next to him for the picture, he accommodated you, moving aside so you could tuck under his arm, and scolded himself for giving in to the temptation.

"Can we do a sort of Anidala-wedding scene pose?" you had asked with such hope, gazing up at him with stars in your eyes. He took too long to answer.

"Of course." He nodded as soon as he got a hold of himself. "Can you show me what you mean?"

Gently, you directed him, handling his broad shoulders to turn him towards you so you could look deeply into his eyes for the picture. For one second, he could swear his heart skipped a beat. Next thing he knew, the picture flashed and you were saying your thank yous and goodbyes. A seed of disappointment grew in his chest, but he moved on.

Only to find himself eager sitting in his seat at the sight of you in the autograph line. A grin spreads on his features as you approach his booth.

"Hi again." you exhale, beaming.

"Good to see you." Hayden replies, pointing out the obvious humor of coming across you twice in a row. He's thankful, scribbling his signature onto the picture frame you'd bought earlier right after your photo op with him. A split second decision is made and it gives him no time to second-guess it when he's adding his number to the sticky note. It's his WhatsApp, just to stay safe, but you don't get time to even look at it, your attention solely on him when you thank him again. He nods at you, and watches you walk away. Once more, his eyes flash to your behind and how it sways in your little cosplay outfit.

It's not always about instant attraction for him, he has to get to know the person to know if he truly likes them, but there's something about you that draws him in. He wants to get to know you, even if he might be compromising his privacy. The ball is in your court, all he has to do is wait for you to notice the gift he left on your sticky note.

"What's that?" your friend asks, pointing to your picture frame in your hand. You grin widely at them.

"Hayden Christensen signed my picture with him— Look!" you exclaim, raising the item into view only to see what your friend was actually referring to. Your expression drops at the sight of ten numbers in a recognizable pattern. A phone number. You face away from your friend in an instant, keeping it to yourself and shielding it with your body. "No way. No fucking way—"

"Is that a phone number? Lemme see—!"

You pinch your shoulder, jerking it away from their touch as you ogle at the sticky note. "There's no way..." It's a dream, it's a fantasy, you're going to wake up any second and then have to get ready to go to con to meet Hayden Christensen for the first time.

"Relax! It's probably the staff member that wrote your name on the sticky note!" your friend reasons, poking their head around your neck and through your hair to sneak a peek. "'Sides, he's like a thousand years old."

"Be quiet for a second, lemme think." you say as you stride away and out of the exit area, scanning your surroundings for a place to chill out and sit.

"If you're that bothered, we should test it! C'mon."

"Okay, okay. Let me find service I have to download an app."

You don't even know how it happened, all of it was a blur. One moment you were texting to verify the number was who you thought it was and ignored your gut feeling when you were texted back two simple words: "Call me."

With all the power within you, you tried to remain as calm as possible while on the phone with him. Constantly, you reminded yourself that "He's just some guy." So you could fathom having a real conversation with him. It turned into him inviting you out, somewhere respectful and secluded to talk after his panel, snowballed into visiting his hotel bar, and then up to his room to sit on his balcony.

"You mind if a smoke?" he'd asked. You shook your head. And it was the first time you'd tried a cigarette. The end still wet from his lips around it, and he cupped his big hands around the mouth of it so he could light it for you.

It must've been the alcohol, or the long day, but when you'd kissed him you were sure you were possessed. His lips were soft like silk, warm and plump, and he slid his hand behind your neck to make sure you couldn't run away. Tongues coated in nicotine curled against one another, experimenting as if afraid to turn the other one away.

Taller than you, you had to crane your neck, but he held you so carefully. Gentler still even when he draw you away while your lips were still pouted and pliantly awaiting his return. "I'm sorry, I apologize. I don't know what came over me." he exhaled, releasing you. But you didn't listen, clutching onto collar of his jacket to draw him right back in.

"Oh, right there. Right there!" you plea, clawing at the hotel pillows above your head as Hayden rolls his hips into you. Big hands tuck into the crooks of your knees, folding your legs over you to hit that spongy spot inside you. Cunt up to the sky, he's slamming into you like he's done it before, a sheen of sweat to his forehead. "That's so fucking good, Hayden," you draw out the words in a sultry whine, and for one second you can't believe that you get to say those words right now. Quickly drawn back in to the moment as soon as he bottoms out for the umpteenth time, screwing your fanatic brains out.

"You feelin' good? Yeah?" he exhales, and his tongue forms over his upper lip as he splays a hand under your ass. It feels so big on you as it lifts your hips up into his thrusts. "Keep those legs up for me." You do as you're told, replacing his touch on your thighs to make sure, and you overlay one of his hands. A strangely intimate and endearing detail he takes to heart, watching your little fingers grab at his in the crook of your knee while he's yanking your cunt up by your asscheek.

"Please don't stop, please!" You want to stay here all night, all next day, forever. You want to live in this little bubble.

In a way, he helps you to achieve that by giving you his real number when it's time to leave his hotel room, and makes you promise to take his call whenever he's in the area again.

#indy shoots the shit #thanks for the msg!!#bimbo-baggins #tw age gap #indy: drabbles #ch: hayden #hayden christensen drabble #hayden christensen prompt #hayden christensen smut #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen x fem reader #hayden christensen x reader smut #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen x y/n #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen fic #hayden christensen fanfic #hayden christensen fanfiction #reader insert

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soullust · 5 months

Text

my miscellaneous dps headcanons (including some background characters)

neil

has HORRIBLE eyesight. like wayy worse that meeks but he hates wearing his glasses

loves scavenger hunts

charlie helped him realize he's gay (they made out once to 'check' but never had any actual feelings for eachother)

is diabetic but doesn't know it

todd

is so incredibly competitive it's ridiculous. he'll die before he loses a bet

selectively mute

gets his poetry / writing published at least twice. the first time was even before he turned 18

scrunches his nose when smiling

not a morning person. he's dead until noon

knox

is a huge gossip and his grandma's favorite bc of it

can't lie to save his life

loves horseback riding

can't cook. at all. like he burns water

charlie

loves spicy foods and smells

his parents mostly ignored him and his younger sister during their childhood and basically raised his sister himself

but it also gave him a lot of freedom, especially during holidays and school breaks, since his parents always either pawned him off to family or just didn't care where he was 90% of the time.

like, really, they only care about appearances so they get on his back about being disrespectful every once in a while and ignore him the rest that's one of the reasons he acts out all the time he desperately craves attention he never got

tina INSISTS on doing his make-up everytime they hang out. he likes make-up and she's pretty good, so he just lets her

meeks

like todd, he's very competitive, but, unlike todd, he's not a sore loser

has a huge sweet tooth smells like it

was obsessed with nordic mythology in middleschool

matthew ("spaz") was his childhood bestfriend, but they grew apart over the years

is allergic to bees. somehow never remembers to take his epipen anywhere. it's a miracle he's survived this long

pitts

he's a car guy. wants to be a car mechanic

had a crush on neil in like 6th grade

scared of birds

has a stutter and used to have a lisp

gamer boi

not exactly a hc but yall can we acknowledge how sarcastic and bitchy he is??? he's hilarious

knows how to sew

gives the best hugs

cameron

once got arrested and had to call charlie to bail him out. charlie was so proud he bought him ice cream on their way back

has lexical-gustatory synesthesia

his bio dad is dead and he hates his step-father with a passion

is besties with gloria and she finds him hillarious

other

mr keating used to work as a line cook in his teens. also he was a lot like charlie during his highschool years (chaotic & funny)

chris used to do ballet as a kid, but has moved on to cheerleading and gymnastics. her parents are divorced. she lives with her mother and younger half-brother

ginny really should be wearing glasses but she hates them and her parents refuse to buy her more flattering frames. she can't swim. people always share their secrets with her bc she seems like she can keep them, but she’s actually a huge gossip

stick has a twin sister. he is nonverbal and communicates thru asl

gloria is training to be a hairdresser

tina can’t walk in heels taller than half an inch

hopkins has a huge crush on cameron

matthew is an origami master

mr mcallister knits in his spare time. he married a chinese woman who, when he met her, didn’t know any english

i take headcanon and one-shot requests btw

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silvervioletvalentine · 1 year

Text

🦋I love you and I like you🦋

Pairing: Lando Norris X Cherrie!

Word count : 9k

Summary: in which she’s a bitch, he’s a lover.

A/N. Also hi. I’ve never written for Lando before sooo this is like a little experiment I suppose. I’m thinking of writing one for Lance next? What do U guys think? Would you read a Lance one?? Lemme know xoxo

Charles was looking behind his teammate with a slight grimace taking over his designers as he let out a subtle sigh before glancing back over to Cherrie , who was sitting opposite him on the table while they are some lunch together like they often did before a race.

Pursing his lips to himself as he sent a silent pray to the bright blue sky above him that his friend would , for once in her life, at least try to play nice to the beaming man that was jogging their way with his eyes glued onto his target , the woman opposite him completely oblivious to how her peace was about to be disturbed.

"Cherrie. Please be nice." Charles blurted out to his teammate quickly and quietly , making her slowly lift her head from her container of food to give him a confused look at his sudden pleading.

Her eyebrows furrowing as she looked at a wide eyed Charles in mild concern , wondering why he looked so worried already . The last time she checked she had not done anything out of the ordinary that would lead to her needing to be told to be nice again.

Had she somehow said something to Charles that now had him pleading for her to be nice all of a sudden? Was it that joke that she muttered about him being such a princess when he refused to eat a Apple If it wasn't cut into slices?

Her frown deepened , judgment clouding her face quickly. "Seriously Charles? I only called you a princess and you're now whining about it- get over yourself-" she started to scold him , not amused in the slightest.

It was no secret that Cherrie wasn't the most...open of people.

She liked her close knit group of friends that understood her blunt and slightly mean sense of humour. Who didn't her offended by her constant sarcasm and creative insults. Who laughed loudly when she called them bitches and motherfuckers, who weren't really fucking intimidated by her like everyone else seemed to be.

She really don't understand why people were so scared of her. Maybe it was the resting bitch face? Or maybe it was the way she always looked like she wanted to knock someone's teeth out if they got too close to her.

Or maybe it was the way that she refused to beat around the bush with people, preferring to be bluntly honest instead.

That was the way that she had been brought up.

You didn't get very far in life if you faked being a happy go lucky , smiley and 'best friends with everybody' person. She didn't have the time or the energy to play nice with people that she had absolutely no interest in. Why should she? That would be making a liar out of herself.

She was a bitch and she was proud of it. She took great pride in being able to scare away grown men that were twice her size with just one glare. It was a talent really , one that she utilised daily.

People wouldn't leave her alone if she was nice. But when she acted like a bit of a cunt, she got all the peace and quite that she craved in life.

It was amazing really. And she was proud of the way that she had mastered the way of telling someone to get fucked without even having to open her mouth.

Maybe it was kimi's fault. He had been her mentor and close family friend for years. And he had taught her to not give a single fuck about what anybody else thought of her . And taught her to do and say whatever the hell she wanted to.

So she did just that. And usually it worked well enough to keep people away from her. Most guys kept their little infatuations and crushes on her to themselves , never getting too close and just admiring her from afar instead.

Well, Most of them. Except for one little, annoying , loud mouth driver who wasn't scared of her in the slightest. One that would not leave her alone , no matter how mean she tried to be to him. He was locked in and refused to give up on his endless pursuit for her affection.

He would have liked a kiss from her but so far all he could get from Cherrie was two middle fingers and a death glare. But it was a start. He wasn't giving up just yet.

Charles sighed "no! No! Not that." He lowered his voice as he leaned forward on the table to whisper to her . "He's coming over now. Play nice please." He warned her.

Cherrie scowled at him , chewing on her pasta boredly. "Who is?" She echoed in confusion.

Her teammate gave her a look "take a guess Cherrie. Which guy here is hopelessly in love with you and is also the only guy that isn't scared of you in the slightest?" He rose a brow at her pointedly.

Cherries face dropped in realisation just as a bright coloured, orange blur cane flying towards their table with a happy shout, dumping himself into the seated bench beside her with a grin.

Lando looked at her , saw her scowl and annoyed glare and laughed loudly . "Hey guys! How are you?" He greeted them happily , reaching for a tomato from cherries dinner without any hesitation.

Cherrie slapped his hand away with a low scoff , narrowing her eyes at the man beside her in Annoyance. "I was enjoying peacefully eating my dinner before you arrived." She muttered unhappily , refusing to look at him any longer and instead focusing back on her food again.

Fighting back a long sigh as she felt lando's eyes on the side of her face, unashamedly admiring her in the morning sunlight. His smile never dimming even when she was giving him the cold shoulder , as usual.

It was no secret to anybody that Lando was head over wheels in love with her. He had been since the very first moment he had met her over two years ago now when she got her contract with Ferrari. He was the first one to congratulate her and tell her that he couldn't wait to see her on the track.

Having been crushing on her long before she came to F1. He had followed her Instagram for years and liked every single picture she posted , always commenting a orange heart. Even on a picture of her tabby cat or a simple picture of her ocean view from her apartment, he engaged with every single post she made.

Cherrie had not been impressed by his schoolboy ways. She had came to race and win, not make friends . So she wasn't very interested in the way that he constantly flung himself at her without any shame , time and time again.

It was ridiculous and Cherrie didn't know why he was so taken by her, she had been nothing but a bitch to him from day one.

She tried insulting him. She tried ignoring him. She even told him bluntly that she didn't like him and that if he wanted to keep both of his legs then he needed to leave her alone and stop annoying her so much. But he just wouldn't give in.

Lando just smiled at her and tried another tactic. "You look really pretty today Cherrie. Have you done something different with your hair?" He complimented her sweetly .

Chin resting on his hand as he gazed at her with shiny eyes, ignoring the disgusted look that Charles was giving him as he tried to flirt with his teammate despite knowing fully well how she would react.

She side eyed him , unamused. "I just brushed it." She simply muttered before shoving a mouthful of pasta into her mouth so she didn't have to speak again.

Lando nodded his head along to her words "well, it looks amazing. I like the red. But I think you would look better in orange." He cheekily winked at her , laughing when she let out a loud sigh and finally faced him properly again.

She pursed her lips , face blank as she uttered. "I hate orange. It's not my colour."

Charles snorted behind the palm of his hand as he tried not to laugh as he watched her give Lando a hard time again. Feeling pity for the mclaren driver , but also not at all because Lando knew exactly what she was like, yet he still pursued her anyways.

Lando paused for a moment , trying to come up with a clever way to reply to that snarky answer and coming up short.

Instead he just chuckled and smiled at her in amusement "every colour is your colour Cherrie." Then he abruptly changed the subject , crossing his fingers for luck as he asked her hopefully "did you dump that footballer yet?"

Referring to the Spanish footballer that Cherrie had been seen hanging out with over the summer. The yacht pictures of the two of them practically jumping each other on the deck of the boat had crushed his heart a little.

But four weeks was long enough for his confidence and stubborn determination to come back to him in full swing , reminding himself that these flings that she constantly had with footballers and stars alike were always temporary.

Lando had never once seen her with the same man for longer than a month. She liked to keep her options open and never were they ever any feelings involved.

She just loved sex , that was all. And If all the other drivers could hookup with whoever they wanted and not get shamed for it then why couldn't she?

She wasn't ashamed of her little slut era that faded in and out depending where she was in the world. Spain, Italy and france had the most beautiful guys that she had ever seen in her life . And well, she was usually only there for a weekend so why not make the most of it and relax with a nice long marathon of sex with these Greek god type looking men?

She had no shame and enjoyed the way that the fans and press would go crazy whenever another picture of her with someone would make its way around the internet . She laughed at the comments calling her a whore who slept her way through each city , she laughed when they wondered if she was trying to shag every greatest footballer there was.

Because well, they weren't wrong. She loved footballers . They had the best stamina's and really nice yachts. She was allowed her fun. And to her fun was delicious food, long naps in the sun and sex, sex and even more sex.

She was pretty, she was young and she intended to enjoy every minute of her life doing whatever the hell she wanted to do. She didn't want or need a man to tie her down. They were fun in the sheets, as long as they weren't her sheets in her own home.

Never once had she brought any of her famous flings home with her. Not one of them had met her family and never once had she ever told a man that she loved them. Because she didn't and she wasn't a liar who was going to throw words like that around just to soothe a mans ego.

No way. And maybe that was also why she was so determined to push Lando away. She was certain that it was just a phase that she was going through. He liked her because he couldn't have her and as soon as he did have her, she was certain that he would grow bored of her and move on.

She didn't want to risk her heart like that. When she did eventually fall in love , she wanted it to be real. She wanted to be a hundred percent sure that that he meant it before she ever gave in and let herself experience true love.

And well, Lando was all smiles and laughter. Silly jokes and ice pops in the sun. He couldn't be that serious about her , could he?

It had to be just a silly little crush that he had on her, it would fade away. It had to.

"Not that its any of your business . But I didn't need to dump him because we weren't even together." She finally answered him . Eyes on her phone as she replied to a few text messages from her friends back home .

Lando raised a brow at her curiously , eyes flickering briefly down to the phone in her hand as he wondered who she was texting . Definitely not him seeing as she refused to give him her number knowing fully well that he would never leave her alone if she did.

"But you were kissing him on that yacht.." he voiced his confusion , turning in his seat so that he was sitting sideways instead. Giving her his full attention.

Cherrie glanced over at him with a slight frown , lips tugging at the corners despite herself as she answered him bluntly. "I was fucking him for a couple of weeks but I got bored and came back home."

Charles snorted a laugh while lando flushed slightly , swallowing at the way she so casually talked about sex like that. Shifting in his seat uncomfortably at the thought of her and another man ... doing it.

Charles couldn't stop giggling as he looked over at his teammate in amusement . "Wow. Heartbreaker ." He teased her.

She just rolled her eyes at him with a small smirk "no. He knew exactly what he was getting himself into. I made it very clear that it was just sex." She told him matter of factly.

Because despite being such a bitch, she never once led anyone on. She told them fair and square that it was always no strings attached. Just some casual fun when she needed to relax after a tough race.

"Is that deal just for footballers or-" Lando gave her a hopeful fluttering of his eyes , grinning at the way she immediate rolled her own eyes at him.

Something that she seemed to do often in his presence . He just wished that he could make her eyes roll to the back of her head in other ways instead.

She took a sip of her water and just looked at him for a moment , admiring the way his racing suit was tied loosely around his waist. A long sleeved , white shirt clinging to his chest tightly making her clear her throat and glance away.

"It's for guys over six foot tall." She smirked , playing with the paper straw between her teeth. Watching his face drop from the corner of her eyes, while trying not to laugh.

Lando sighed loudly , frowning at her. "I could wear heels. Does that count?" He offered to her. Enjoying her snark for whatever reason he did so.

Maybe he needed to see a therapist because why did he get so turned on when Cherrie was mean to him? Surely that couldn't be normal , right?

She snorted , laughing before she could even stop herself as she pictured cute little Lando running after her in heels all day long .

"No. It doesn't. I'm not interested in you at all Lando." She told him , hoping he would get the hint and move on.

He did not.

Instead he laid his head on his elbows that were resting on the table in front of him, eyes never leaving her pretty face as he admired the way her eyes seemed to be so bright under the sunlight. A few shades lighter then they usually appeared.

She was just so fucking beautiful that Lando had to remind himself to breathe properly.

"Why not? I'm amazing. I'd be a great boyfriend. I'd buy you flowers and take you on cute dates. I'd make you happy." He told her confidently . Not arrogant just stating the truth.

Charles chuckled, shaking his head as him in amusement . "So modest Lando. So subtle." He teased him.

Lando just shrugged and exclaimed "it's true!" Before looking back at a flustered Cherrie with a smile . "If you gave me -just one tiny- chance-"

She shook her head at him firmly "no. I don't want a boyfriend. Don't you think that If I wanted one I would have gotten one by now? I have plenty of options available ." She reminded them .

Charles sighed in amusement , looking between the two of them with amused smirk on his lips. "Both of you are ridiculously cocky. Maybe you are made for each other." He stated.

Lando beamed at him happily "exactly! We could be perfect! We'd be the hottest couple around!"

He then looked back at Cherrie "and maybe- just maybe the reason why you don't keep these guys around is because you want something real.." he motioned towards himself proudly "like me."

Cherrie couldn't have groaned any louder if she tried. Huffing at him in annoyance. "I don't keep them around because I don't like them like that. Just like I don't like you like that either!" She snapped at him.

Lando frowned "but how do you know that if you never give me a chance? Girls think I'm cute as hell!" He exclaimed . Getting frustrated with her stubbornness.

She looked him straight in his eyes and agreed "yes, you're cute Lando." Seeing his hopeful and pleased smile , she quickly crushed his hopes again.

“But I don't date cute. I like sexy men. Not cute!"

He didn't give up at all, merely raising his brow at her and replying .

“Sexy is temporary. Cute is forever." He stated confidently .

Charles giggled as he looked between them, his own free entertainment . "That would be a great slogan for a tshirt." He said.

Lando nodded in agreement, snapping his fingers at him . "You're right! Write that down!" He told him before turning his attention back to the love of his life again.

Cherrie was looking at him in disbelief. Head in hands as she wondered what she had to do or say for him to drop this little crush of his on her.

How much more meaner did she have to be?!

She had a horrible feeling that she could smack him and he’d probably thank her for it.

"You always go 'awww look at that cute old man across the road!'" he mocked her girly voice as he spoke making her gasp , offended. "Never 'wow look at that sexy old man!' If you think I'm cute now just wait a couple more years. I'm going to be this cute forever." He told her with a grin.

Cherrie reached over and smacked his arm, hard. Lando whining as he slapped her arm back without any hesitation. Both of them slapping at each other like little kids .

"I don't sound like that!" She shouted at him. Going for his head now instead.

Getting him into a headlock while Lando just giggled hysterically, his hands coming up to clutch at her arms with a grin.

"Ooo I’m Cherrie and I like to break lando's heart-" he continued on with a high pitched girly voice , mocking her in-between his own laughter.

Meanwhile Charles had his phone in his hand, filling the two of them to send to their group chat for the rest of their friends to see.

They all had bets running on how long it would take for Cherrie to give in. Some of them said never , betting that Lando would never get a real chance with her. Daniel was the only one that betted that the two of them would be together before the end of the season.

As Charles looked at them messing on in front of him, catching glimpse of the smile that Cherrie was trying so hard to hide as Lando wiggled around in her Arms. Almost on her lap as he jokingly licked her arm making her squeal in disgust , yanking her arms away from his neck to hurriedly wipe his Slava away from her skin.

Charles wondered if perhaps Daniel might be right.

"I'm not breaking your heart Lando! Stop being so dramatic!" She scoffed at him with a huff.

Glaring down at him when he laid sideways on the table bench , laying his head on her lap and refusing to move as he grinned up at her mischievously .

"Oh really? Feel my poor heart then." He grabbed hold of her hand and placed it over his racing heart firmly . His eyes never leaving her own.

She just frowned at him "it's just beating fast idiot.

Not broken."

He laughed, hand over her own as he gently caressed her fingers with his own. Sighing happily "yeah. For you. It does that every time you're near me." He sappily told her.

Ignoring Charles fake gagging in the background as he focused all of his love sick attention on her pretty, flustered face above him.

"Gross." She inhaled sharply as he slowly slid her hand down from over his heart and down to his chest and stomach instead.

He was smirking as he pressed her fingers over his abs slowly , tensing them up so that she could feel them even more.

“Could be all yours Cher ." He whispered to her slyly . Grinning at the way her cheeks were slowly turning as red as the car she drove.

She cleared her throat and quickly yanked her hand away from his, then she gave him a hard shove to his side that sent him flying off her lap and onto the floor below them Instead.

"Ow!" He yelped in shock as he laid flat on his back, looking up at her in betrayal . "Hey!"

Charles was laughing hysterically as he continued to film them. Cherrie just simply shrugging with a smirk as she looked down at him in amusement.

“my last boy toy had a eight pack ." Was all she muttered before getting up and throwing her Empty container in the bin.

Giving her teammate a casual nod "see you at the garage." She told him before walking away without a single look behind her.

Leaving Lando still laid like a starfish on the cold hard ground, the smile never leaving his face as he glanced up at Charles Stubbornly.

"She's the one. I'm telling you." He grinned.

Charles shook his head at him in disbelief "the one to what? Kill you?"

Lando sighed like a lovesick fool "she can kill me with her beauty. God.." he groaned in awe. "I love her."

Charles sent him a link for therapy later that night .

For some reason Cherrie didn't find herself very surprised when that very same weekend, at nearly two o'clock in the morning , there was a bunch of loud and insistent knocks at her hotel room door.

Quickly rolling herself out of her bed and grabbing a silk dressing gown to throw Over her shivering body, she hurried over to the door before they pissed someone off with their loudness.

Swinging open the door, she squinted as the light from the hallway shined into her tired eyes. Frowning slightly as she looked at the swaying, beaming face in front of her.

"Lando? What are you doing here?" She groaned out , exhausted and just wanting to go back to sleep.

But of course that was far too much to ask for and instead she was faced with a stubborn, drunk man child at her door.

Lando giggled as he looked at her bed head and pouty lips , sighing dramatically. "I can't wait for the day that I can wake up with you by my side looking like this." He waved his hand at her face a little too eagerly, almost slapping her .

Cherrie huffed at him as she grabbed ahold of his hand bedore he accidentally hurt her, looking down , unimpressed when he tried to sneakily intertwine their fingers together. Swinging their now joint hands between them happily.

She glared at him in annoyance "why are you here?" She repeated her question firmly . Too tired for his bullshit. She either had to be drunk of filled up with coffee to handle him, and that was on a good day.

He just smiled at her , playing with her fingers as he swayed in his spot. Cherrie moving a tiny bit closer to him, ready to catch him if he fell. She did not want to be blamed if he accidentally fell over and ended up hurting himself in the process.

"I wanted to see you. I was at the club and this girl wouldn't leave me alone." He slurred to her , squeezing her fingers like a child to her her attention as she glanced up and down the hallway, wondering where his idiot friend was that had to have dropped him off in this state at her door.

Her stomach turned uncomfortably as he mentioned a girl, pulling a face without even realising at as she looked at him with a frown. Getting more pissed off by the second.

"Okay?" She didn't know what else to say to that. She didn't want to hear about him with some girl. She just didn't.

She didn't know why and she didn't want to know why she felt uneasy at all. She had no right to be jealous. She was the one that had been rejecting Lando over and over again.

He had to move on from her sometime she supposed. So why the hell did it make her feel so sour? She didn't care. She fucked around almost every weekend with someone new. It was no big deal.

Lando, unaware of her little mental crisis , continued on obliviously. Nodding his head over and over again , looking at her with comically wide eyes.

"Yeah! I told her that I was in love with you but she just wasn't listening. So I had security remove her.” He whined to her . Almost falling onto the wall behind him as he lost his balance again.

Cherrie quickly lurched forward and grabbed his arm to stop him from falling onto the floor, sighing to herself as she carefully pulled him into her hotel room and shut the door behind them.

Leading him carefully over to her bed, crossing her arms over her chest once he had flung himself down onto the mattress like a drunk starfish. Beaming up at her happily as he snuggled into one of her pillows with a content sigh.

"You're not in love with me Lando." She muttered uncomfortably. Stood at the end of the bed and fiddling with her fingers. Not knowing what to do or say at all.

She was usually the one that was drunk and rambling away, she was the one that was babied on after a night out with friends . She had never been the caring or the responsible one before.

She didn't know how to handle Lando in general, never mind a drunk Lando who was apparently was just as infatuated with her drunk as he was sober.

Lando pouted up at her, eyes glossy and upset. The alcohol making him even more emotional than he usually was.

"Yes I do. Why don't you believe me?" He complained , frowning at her. Offended that she thought he was lying. "You make me happy and you make my heart sing-"

Cherrie cringed . Never one that could cope with feelings and sappiness. She couldn't even watch a romantic movie without leaving the room. All the lovey dovey bullshit gave her second hand embarrassment. She just couldn't take it.

She wasn't brought up to be emotional. Her family don't hug. Didn't talk about their feelings. Didn't tell each other 'I love you.'. The closest thing to love that she had felt from her father was a awkward pat on her back when she had told him that she had a contract with Ferrari. He said a firm 'well done.' Before excusing himself from the room. And that was okay. She knew that he was proud of her , she didn't need to hear him say it. It was fine.

Her friends had told her that she was emotionally constipated and afraid to be affectionate with anybody because she had never experienced it growing up. And well how could you crave something that you had never had before?

She had never even held hands with a man before. Sure , she slept with them and sucked their dick. But she never hugged them. Never held hands or said sweet words. It was only ever physical and she was okay with that.

Which was probably why she felt so clueless and uneasy around Lando . Because he wasn't afraid to be emotional with her . He told her how he felt without any shame. He always hugged her , sneaking up behind her to wrap his arms around her in a embrace before she could even think to threaten him away.

He told her she was beautiful every time he saw her even when she knew that she looked like a mess . He looked to her whenever he said some stupid joke just to see if she would laugh too .

He sent her flowers every time she won a race , and she won regularly . So she had a new boutique nearly every other week.

He asked her about her day, he asked her about her friends and family. He sent his coat to her hotel room when he had found out that she had forgotten hers at home. He sent her care packages every month when she was on her period.

He wrote her little cheesy notes and printed out pictures and poems that he thought she might like. He bought every single piece of her merchandise that came out and proudly walked around the paddock wearing it. Telling anyone who would listen to buy it .

He did all these things for her and she didn't do anything for him in return. Not nearly as much.

Sure. She scolded his team principal after she had heard that he had upset Lando. He didn't know that she did that. Only the security man who had to drag her away did.

And sure, she sent him packages of strange things in stores that she had found that reminded her of him. She never signed her name. He didn't know it was her that sent them.

And sure . She paid for his birthday party at a fancy club, telling the owner to put everything on her tab even when she didn't attend the party herself. Sending him only a brief 'happy birthday' text that night. He didn't know that either.

And sure , she looked for him in every crowded room but only so that she could know where not to go to avoid him. That was the only reason why she looked for him and wondered where he was and what he was doing.

It was nothing. She felt nothing. She just- she didn't know anymore. She didn't get attached to people , definitely not to men. She didn't do relationships, she didn't do commitment .

She wasn't sweet and she wasn't kind. She didn't smile just because. She didn't coddle people, she didn't lie to make them happy. She didn't laugh at jokes that weren't funny. She wasn't girlfriend material at all.

She was blunt , mean and roughed up around the edges just like her father was. She had made more people cry than she had made them laugh.

People didn't come to her to hang out because they liked her . They didn't come to her for comfort, knowing that they would only get brutal honesty instead. She didn't even know how to comfort someone, other than awkward pats on their backs and a uncomfortable 'stop crying please.' She stayed away from anything emotional , it just wasn't her thing.

So why wasn't she kicking Lando out of her room and calling up one of his many friends to deal with his drunken ass instead?

Another question that she didn't want the answer to either.

She sighed and looked at him with a frown "don't say shit like that Lando. I don't like it." She muttered walking into the small kitchen to get him a bottle of water in hopes to try and sober him up.

He followed her with his eyes , huffing loudly . "You say you don't but you always smile when you look away!" He called over to her stubbornly.

She scowled at him , slamming the fridge door shut with more force than was necessary.

"It's a pity smile." She snapped as she walked back over to him. Throwing the bottle of water onto the pillow next to him, only just missing his head.

Lando grinned slyly at her , not budging. "No it isn't! Why can't you admit that deep down in your cold ice heart , you like me!" He accused her.

She gasped "I do not! You're not my type!" She denied quickly.

He rolled his eyes at her with a grin . "I think you're scared because I'm not like your usual type. You're usual type don't love you but I do. And you don't know how to deal with the fact that someone can actually love you like that. Love you for more than just casual sex." He rambled on. Picking up the water bottle and taking a big gulp , missing the way she froze up at the end of the bed.

Mouth opening and closing several times in denial , heart racing in her chest as she let his horrifyingly truthfully statement of her sink in. Hating that he knew her so well. Hating that he was right.

She shifted on her feet uncomfortably, glaring down at his smug little face angrily.

"You don't know what you're talking about Lando." She said instead . Looking away from his pretty eyes with a scowl.

She hated pretty boys with their horrible big cow eyes and even prettier smiles . She absolutely , fucking hated them. How dare he be so cute when she was trying to get rid of him?!

He snuggled into her covers with a smile, hazy eyes never leaving her despite the fact that his head was swimming and his vision was making him see double. Two cherries were just as good as one anyways. Twice the beauty. He thought drunkenly.

"I do! I do! And it makes you mad that I'm right!"

He giggled "I think you're amazing Cherrie." He told her sincerely . Slurred speech and all.

Cherrie felt her face soften , hesitantly glancing back over to him with a sigh. Shaking her head at him as she tried not to smile at his cute, arrogant face.

"I think you're drunk and that you need to sleep this off before you say something you regret." She simply told him. Leaning over to pull off his trainers so that he could get into the bed properly.

He watched her look after him with a soft grin, cheeks flushed with both alcohol and love for the stubborn woman in front of him.

"I could never regret anything with you. I meant it Cherrie . I know you don't believe me but-" he hiccuped as he let her tuck him into the bed properly , pulling the covers up to his neck gently.

"I think your mean sense of humour is really funny. And I-i like your smile and your laugh. It's so pretty." He slurred to her , eyes fluttering tiredly as he tried to stay awake .

“And you're so smart and the best driver in the world. I was so jealous when you became Charles teammate instead of mine. And I'm always jealous of those guys that you kiss-"

Cherrie looked away flustered , swallowing thickly as she listened to him tiredly list of all the things he liked about her. She hadn’t known that there was even anything about herself to like.

"And you make me so nervous- but so happy too!" He grinned at her tiredly . Reaching his hand out for her to hold.

Wiggling his fingers pleadingly at her when she hesitated for too long before she gave in and gently took ahold of his hand, giving him palm a small squeeze. Smiling to herself without even realising it.

"Do you think- do you think that you'll give me a chance someday Cherrie? A real one?" He yawned, eyes already closed as he started to drift off into a alcohol fuelled sleep. His hand loosening in her own as she watched him fall asleep just like that.

As if he hadn’t just completely fucked with her head and make her question everything she had ever told herself.

Leaving her to sigh to herself quietly , conflicted as she let her eyes flutter across his peaceful face. Admiring his sunburned cheeks and long lashes and the poutiness of his lips as he dreamed away.

Maybe he was right, sexy was overrated anyways. He was cute, he always had been and always would be.

She carefully pulled her hand away from his with a small smile tugging at her lips, shaking her head to herself as she got up to sleep on the couch instead.

"Maybe I will ." She mumbled with a defeated frown. Giving him one last look in her bed before turning away and heading to the couch where she knew she wouldn't sleep a wink.

She has too much to think about now. Too much to reconsider as she wondered if perhaps she had made a mistake by brushing him off all these years. Too afraid that he would leave as soon as she gave into him.

But she realised then that he had stayed through it all, even when she denied him over and over again. He never gave up and never gave in.

He was the first to run to her after a race. The first to celebrate when she won. The first to ask her if she was okay. The first one to seek her out. He was always there, through everything single thing.

He had stayed through her rejection. He had stayed even when she had another man. He had stayed through the arguments. Stayed through the ups and downs of the track.

He had stayed . Even when she tried to push him away. He never left her empty handed. He never passed her without a smile. Never didn't say hello, never left without a goodbye and promise to see her later.

He stayed and maybe it was time for her to start staying for him too.

The next weekend led to a disaster of a race for Lando who's engine gave up on him not even half way through the race .

Cherrie was walking beside Charles side by side as they got ready to head to the media pen now that the race was over , max had won , Lewis p2 and Cherrie p3.

She was feeling pretty alright with her podium result but she couldn't help but feel bad for Lando as she watched the replay of the race to see how it had all gone downhill so quickly for him.

Watching him head over to where a few tires were piled up and sit down on them with his head in his hands, still not moving from his place even when the race was over. He ignored the marshals , ignored his team and his assiants that were trying to get him to come back.

Instead he waved them off and told them that he needed to be alone for a little while , his helmet still firmly over his head so that nobody could see him cry. Feeling completely defeated and more than upset , once again coming last and gathering no points for his team. It was hard and he was tired, his usual smile no here to be seen.

Cherrie felt Charles nudge her side repeatedly as they both glanced over at Lando, all on his own , with pity. Sighing sadly at the sight of him.

"Go talk to him." Charles advised her quietly once he noticed the worried glances that she kept giving him over her shoulder. Slowing down her walk as though she wasn't sure whether she could walk away from him or not.

Cherrie frowned at her teammate "I don't think anything that I can say would help charles. I don't know how to make people feel better." She reminded him "I only make them feel worse." And it was true.

Last time she had tried to comfort someone, she had ended up making them cry even harder.

Charles rolled his eyes at how oblivious she was. "You don't even have to say anything. I think that you just being there for him would make him feel better. He always lightens up whenever you're around." He told her seriously .

Cherrie scoffed, not believing him in the slightest. Yet she couldn't help but glance over at Lando again, heart pinching in her chest as he still didn't move from his spot. Ignoring everyone and everything around him.

"I don't think-" she tried to come up with some other excuse to why she shouldn't go. But Charles saw right through her facade .

He gave her a firm push in his direction "exactly. Don't think . Just go. He loves you Cherrie-" he gave a pointed look when she went to deny it "as much as you like to pretend that he doesn't. He does . And I know that you do too. So go and talk to him please."

She gave in with a defeated sigh. Giving her teammate one last unhappy glare before stomping over to the tires where Lando was sitting all on his own.

She sat down beside him carefully , not even looking at him. Instead she kept her gaze out to the track in front of them, now empty of their cars.

"Lando.." she hesitantly spoke up after a minute of silence between them.

“Please don't cry." She whispered to him pleadingly when she heard him sniffle.

He let out a watery laugh , shaking his helmet covered head. "I lost again. I'm out again. I'm never going to be champion Cherrie. I'm a fucking loser." He sniffled upset.

She did look at him then. Frowning deeply "don't say that! You're not a loser. You've just got a shitty car. It doesn't matter how good of a driver you are if your trying to win a race with a fucking tractor Lando!" She snapped at him.

More than Uncomfortable with him crying and no knowing what to do or say to make it better.

He looked over at her , sniffling loudly. "But-"

She groaned and turned to face him properly , leaning over to unlatch the clip underneath his chin so that she could pull his helmet off . Wanting to look him in the eyes as she spoke instead of a helmet where she couldn't see his reaction to her words.

She carefully pulled his helmet off and set it to the side while Lando hesitantly lifted off his balaclava , his eyes red and tearful. Nose pink and cheeks flushed from the heat and from crying.

"No buts! You're a incredible driver Lando with so much talent and so much potential! And you're only young , just like me! You're going to win one day okay? And it might not be today and it might not be the next race. But you will. I know you will because you're you." she struggled to find the right words to explain what she meant.

Not used to comforting people. She was usually the one doing the upsetting , not the comforting.

She awkwardly patted his back, lips pursed together as she rapidly tried to think of ways to make him happy again. She couldn't stand the sad look on his face , she wanted him to smile. Not cry.

Lando wiped at his eyes with his sleeve , looking at Cherrie hopefully as he felt his heart lighten at her words. Knowing That she never lied about anything, that was one thing he could guarantee her to do.

"Really? You think so?" He sniffled while leaning into her touch as he shuffled closer to her side , wrapping his arm around her back slowly from behind as he leaned his side against her own . Silently asking her for a hug.

He was expecting her to pull away but instead she only pulled him closer. Wrapped her arm around his shoulders and pulled him into her side properly as he buried his face into her neck , his other hand falling down to her thigh so he didn't fall . Both of them still balancing on the tires that they were sitting on.

She gently ran her fingers through his hair , scratching at his scalp soothingly as she sighed.

"I do. Because I believe in you and I know that your time will come. And if it doesn't then I'll drag max off that podium myself and carry you up there instead. Alright?" She muttered to him firmly .

Leaning her cheek against the side of his head as he clung to her, feeling him smile against her skin at her words.

"You'll carry me? Like a bride?" He teased pulling his head away from the crook of her neck so that he could look at her.

His mood all ready lightening up as he watched her roll her eyes at him playfully with a smile. His heart thudding hard in his chest as he gazed at her affectionately.

Heart swelling in his chest as he realised that despite the fact that she hated affection and that comforting people made her feel physically sick. She had come after him to make sure that he was okay.

She was holding him, she was consoling him. She was smiling at him. Even though she was meant to be at the media pen after her own podium win, she had chosen him instead.

"Sure. I'm the stronger one out of the two of us anyways. So it's only right." She teased him back. Glad to see him smiling again.

Feeling her stomach flutter when he slowly placed his hand at the back of her neck. Cupping it in his hand gently as he looked down at her quietly in amazement.

"Usually when a man puts his hand around my neck. We're not sat on some old tires at the track." She whispered to him. Overwhelmed with the way he was looking at her .

He laughed softly and shook his head fondly at her , biting down on his bottom lip as his eyes were drawn down to her smile.

"God.." he breathed out , blushing. "Don't say that."

She smirked at him , amused by how flustered he was.

“Why not?" She wanted to know.

He looked her straight in the eyes and muttered "because it makes me want to experience what they did with you." Enjoying the way her breath hitched , pupils widening as she looked at him, startled by his confession.

She laughed a little nervously as he moved his face to be closer to her own, their noses brushing gently.

"What? The casual sex experience you mean?"

He shook his head, eyes fluttering closed as he breathed her in. Heart racing in his chest as he felt her cup his jaw in her hand softly , pulling him even closer to her .

"No." He denied with a soft smile.

"I want the boyfriend experience." He simply told her . Opening his eyes to see her reaction.

She just looked at him for a moment before frowning "that'd be a new experience seeing as I haven't done that before Lando." She reminded him. She didn't date. She fucked. End of. They meant nothing.

But as she looked into his shiny eyes and pretty smile , she knew that it was over. She wasn't a liar after all.

Her heart was racing. Her fingers trembling and all she wanted to do was kiss him. Wanted to make him happy .

She was in love wasn't she? For fucks sake. She really couldn’t catch a break!

Lando just laughed and shrugged his shoulders mischievously. "Then it'll be a experience for the both of us. Because I love you and I want you and I like you. So fucking much." He confessed to her without any shame.

His love for her came to him as easy as breathing did. She was it for him. He just knew she was.

And Cherrie. Cherrie just sighed long and hard in defeat. Nodding her head along in agreement as she watched his features light up with pure joy, his breath hitching in his throat as he stared at her with wide eyes, shocked at her casually agreeing.

"Yeah? You want that with me?" He needed to know. Didn't care how desperate he sounded .

He had loved her for a long time. Two summers now but he wanted them all.

She let out a soft laugh and leaned forward to kiss him instead of answering . Cradling his jaw in the palm of her hand as she pulled him closer , breathing in his love as she finally gave into what was right. To what had been there, right in front of her the whole time just patiently waiting for his turn to shine.

Lando moaned against her mouth breathlessly as she parted his lips with her tongue , tilting his head to the side as his cradled her cheeks between his fingers firmly. Thumbs stroking her sharp cheekbones , feeling them heat up beneath his touch.

Kissing her like he had dreamed of kissing her for so long now. He kissed her like she was the last person woman that he would ever kiss. And if he had his own way, she would be the first and last woman that he fell in love with.

She was it for him. He just knew it.

"You love me?" He panted against her lips , his fingers desperately clutching at every part of her that he could reach. Swallowing each sigh and each soft moan she gave him with his lips, he never wanted to let her go again.

She breathed out a laugh and whispered onto his tongue "I love you." Before letting out a loud giggle as Lando suddenly moved too quickly in excitement and fell backwards .

His arms flaying in panic as he gasped out her name loudly before his body fell into the hole of the tire that they had been sitting on , his body folding up with only his legs and head poking out for her to see.

She was giggling hysterically, clutching at the tires for support as tears of laughter ran down her face. Belly aching from love and giggles as she looked down at lando's blushing face , stuck in the tire as he gazed up at her with a sheepish grin.

"I'm stuck with this now huh you idiot ?!” Was all she said through her own laughter as she pulled out her phone to take a picture of him instead of helping him out.

Lando sighed loudly and simply nodded his head , flushed bright red as he smiled apologetically up at the love of his life who actually loved him too.

Despite being stuck in a tire, he had never felt more happier than he did then in that moment .

"Yeah. For the rest of your life I'm afraid." He told her with a grin. Unable to take his eyes off her.

She shook her head at him with a affectionate laugh.

Both of them unaware of a nosy Charles hurriedly messaging the group chat as he announced that Daniel had won the bet. A multitude of disbelief and demands for proof coming through his phone . None of them believing that Lando had actually done it. Unable to believe that Cherrie had given in.

Charles just sent them a picture of lando stuck in a tire, Cherrie kneeling by his side as she leaned over the rubber tires to give him a kiss. Smiles clearly seen on both of their faces.

Pay up suckers. I win! Daniel replied smugly .

Charles just sent him the money through PayPal with a defeated sigh of his own.

Before glancing away from his teammate and Lando who were now full on making out , despite him being stuck in a tire. He quickly turned away before he could see anymore tongue, grimacing to himself at the sight.

Suddenly feeling sick as he wondered what the hell they had done.

If Lando was obsessed with her before. How affectionate was he going to be in front of all of them with Cherrie now that he had her to himself?

Charles had a feeling that he was going to unwillingly see a lot more of their 'affections' now more than ever.

He crossed his fingers together and hoped that he wouldn't need therapy by the end of this season.

He couldn't believe that Daniel was right. Lando got the girl.

#lando Norris imagine #lando Norris oneshot #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 fic #f1 oneshot #formula 1 imagine

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