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angelfic · 1 year

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— THE WAY I LOVED YOU

pairing: theodore nott x reader

summary: in which theodore nott will do anything to get you to go out with him, but you’re just as stubborn rejecting him

warnings: swearing, kissing, dangerous stunts and theo being stupid (ryan gosling in the notebook style), unedited since i wrote this in the middle of the night on no sleep again lol. enemies to lovers if you squint a bit

author’s note: since everyone loves theo i’ll pretend this isn’t just for my own selfish needs <3 (especially the notebook reference) also surprise surprise mc is a gryffindor as always, you’d never know i was a slytherin my bad guys… as always let me know what u think! enjoy, angels 💌

The first time Theodore Nott asks you out, you spill a pot of ink directly into his lap.

It’s not like you meant to do it. But when there’s a Transfiguration worksheet to be getting on with, the Slytherin boy seated next to you by Professor McGonagall asking you out would surely take anyone by surprise.

The second you twist in your seat to look at him in shock, your arm slides the pot right off the desk and directly onto his grey trousers, instantly staining them with the black liquid before you have a chance to speak.

Your hands fly to your mouth to stifle your gasp and you look up at him, anticipating an angry glare in return. Instead, he looks mildly surprised at the ever-growing stain on his crotch, but mostly… amused?

“A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed, darling,” he says, raising an eyebrow and suppressing a smile.

You begin stuttering out an apology and scrambling for your wand to wave away the stain before you can do something stupid like attempting to rub it off with your sleeve. Your cheeks instantly heat up at the humiliating image now plaguing your mind and you barely contain a sigh of relief when you realise the lesson has finished.

It’s a miracle your shoes haven’t left scuff marks on the ground in a cartoonish trail with the speed at which you leave the classroom. Godric knows why Theo Nott of all people wants to ask you out, but since it can’t possibly be for any good reason, you’d rather not think about it too much. This, however, isn’t helped by Hermione pestering you about why you look so flustered for the entire walk to the Charms classroom.

Twenty minutes later, her attention is finally diverted. On the other hand, it’s because she’s berating you for accidentally burning the end of her left eyebrow off with a charm gone wrong.

The second time Theo asks you out, there are thankfully no ink pots around.

“Hey,” he whispers from behind you, making you jump within an inch of your life despite his low volume. You swivel in your chair to glare at him, incredulous. Seeing that he’s startled you, Theo grins. “Sorry. What are you doing?”

“Baking a cake,” you deadpan, once your heart has started beating at a normal pace again. Holding up your Potions book, you feel the annoyance start to seep in when Theo continues looking at you, undeterred. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Apparently unfazed by your sarcasm, he drags out the chair next to you and spins it around to sit on it backwards. Settling his arms on top of the backrest, Theo rests his chin on them to look at you. “You never did answer my question.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, eyes scanning the page in front of you but taking in nothing. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to study-”

“Are you going to make me ask you again?” he sighs. You panic a little at his bluntness and continue pretending to read, not knowing what else to do. Theo takes your silence as encouragement and shuffles his chair closer to your own. “Go out with me.”

The arrogance practically drips off his voice, and the pit of anxiety in your stomach immediately turns into irritation instead. “No,” you grit out, slamming your potions book shut to scowl at him. “And I don’t hear you asking anything.”

“Okay,” Theo says slowly, nodding as though he understands. It’s clear that he doesn’t though, because the next words out of his mouth have you stunned. “Please, oh please, will you do me the absolute greatest honour of going out with me?”

”Merlin,” you exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. Dropping your hands into your lap, you see no solution other than gathering your things to return to the common room. “You’re having me on…”

“I can assure you, I’m not,” Theo says quickly, stopping you from leaving by gently grabbing your elbow. You stop in your movements to catch him looking more unsure than you’ve ever seen, and you’ve never been more perplexed. “I’m completely serious right now. Go out with me?”

“Wh- I don’t even-” you sigh, cutting your senseless muttering off to cross your arms over your textbook. “Whatever happened to a simple ‘no’ sufficing, darling? Aren’t there a million other girls for you to go and pester? Godric knows you’ve got an entourage following you half the- What are you looking at?”

Amazingly, Theo’s expression has lost all trace of vulnerability and now displays a slightly faraway look, his signature lazy grin in full effect. “Sorry, I didn’t hear a word after you called me ‘darling’.”

Resisting the urge to hit him over the head with your textbook, you take a deep breath and grasp the potential weapon tighter in your hands before speaking. “As hard as it is for me to believe that girls actually fall for this rubbish, your history with them shows that they do. Don’t think for a second, I’m going to let you use me like they do.”

Theo considers your words for a few seconds, mulling them over as carefully as though he’s trying to solve a brain teaser. Eventually, he seems to come to a satisfying conclusion, because he tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers and tilts his head. “So you need me to prove I’m serious about this… and then you’ll say yes?”

“Oh, for the love of-” Huffing, you turn on your heal without saying another word and storm out of the library. Theo doesn’t follow you, allowing you to clear your head and think about the incredibly odd interaction.

You’re climbing through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room when you realise you never actually refuted Theo and his theory to make you go out with him. Whether or not it was on purpose, you can’t quite decide.

Over the next few weeks, you start wishing you had stopped Theo before he could start trying to prove himself to you.

You can’t go a single day without the question of going out with him popping up. Much to your bewilderment, it isn’t always him asking. Sometimes it’s his friends, sometimes it’s students at the Gryffindor table who are sick of the multiple owls every morning flocking to your table with a note in their beaks. Sometimes it’s even your friends.

“I mean, really,” Hermione says at breakfast, huffy as always when reprimanding someone. “It’d be benefiting everyone if you just went out with him. Why don’t you, anyway?”

“He’s a Slytherin,” Ron butts in, talking to Hermione as though he’s explaining something to a child. He takes a gigantic bite of his toast before speaking, his next words coming out muffled. “Surely that’s reason enough.”

“No, that isn’t reason enough,” Hermione says sternly, furrowing her brows. “A good reason would have been all the girls he’s always with. Of course, that’s flown out the window recently. He’s also never given them as much attention now that I think about it.”

“He’s definitely not the worst of the group either,” Harry adds, leaning in as nosily as Ron. “Not like we’re talking about Malfoy…”

“Don’t you two have Quidditch tactics to be discussing?” you snap, exhausted by the subject already. The two boys hold up their hands in surrender, before shuffling down the bench. Whether that’s to be closer to the Quidditch team, or to get away from you before you start throwing hexes - you aren’t certain.

The fact you’re awake early in the morning on a Saturday isn’t helping your sour mood, and the Quidditch match being between Gryffindor and Slytherin only adds to this.

“We’d better go and get a good seat at the front, so we aren’t on our tiptoes for the whole game like last time,” Hermione says, already sliding off the bench. You give your cup of coffee one last longing look before you allow yourself to be dragged away.

You haven’t even made it onto the Quidditch pitch before you’re already wishing for that cup of coffee to give you strength, because you find none other than Theo standing outside the Great Hall in his green and silver Quidditch robes.

As soon as he spots you, Theo plasters on that charming smile of his and opens his mouth, no doubt to ask you if you could talk privately.

Hermione interjects before he gets the chance. “Don’t bother, I’m leaving.” She simply sighs when you look at her, betrayed. “He’d have convinced you anyway! I’ll save you a seat.”

You watch her leave, helplessly before turning to Theo and crossing your arms. “Yes?”

“I have a proposition for you,” he says simply, getting to the point. The proposition has, without a doubt, got something to do with you and him and a trip to Hogsmeade, but you gesture for him to continue nonetheless. You can’t deny it’s been entertaining watching Theo come up with new ways to ask you out these past few weeks. “I’ll throw the match and let your lot win if you go out with me.”

This startles a laugh out of you, something between a chortle and a gasp. “Oh, you cheeky bastard,” you exclaim, but you can’t help grinning. That was quite possibly the last thing you expected him to say. “First of all, I think my lot is perfectly capable of winning on their own. And secondly… as funny as it would be, I’d rather not have your death and Malfoy’s subsequent imprisonment in Azkaban be on my conscience.”

You only realise just how wide your smile is when it starts to fade under Theo’s unwavering gaze. His lips twitch up into a smile and you immediately frown as an automatic response. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re bantering with me,” Theo says, grinning as though he’s extremely pleased with himself. You realise with a jolt, that yes you were bantering. “One step closer to agreeing to go out with me.”

“That’s not happening,” you protest, but it sounds fairly weak, even to you. “Like I keep telling you, I’m not going to be one of those girls.”

Theo shrugs. “And I think you already know you’re not one of those girls. It’s fine, I can wait.”

The relaxed manner in which he says this has you flabbergasted to say the least. Truthfully, you aren’t completely sure why you haven’t just agreed at this point. No one in the whole school is used to witnessing such extravagant displays from Theodore Nott, so you’ve accepted the fact you’re an outlier in this particular subject area. You’re starting to think Hermione’s right, and it’s pure stubbornness that’s keeping you going.

“You’ll be waiting a long time then,” you say, giving Theo a bland smile.

“Nah,” is all he says, the smile still gracing his unperturbed face. “Keep an eye out for me in the Quidditch stands.”

Theo winks at you before walking away in the direction of the pitch and you linger in the castle for a good few minutes before snapping out of it and walking in the same direction.

You find Hermione quickly at the front of the Gryffindor stand and you’re about to ask how long until the game starts when Lee Jordan’s voice begins to boom from the commentator stand.

“Strong start for Gryffindor with Katie Bell taking the Quaffle and- nope, Vaisey’s taken it and passed it onto Urquhart, his fellow Chaser and the new Slytherin captain.” You’re thankful for Lee’s commentary as it’s easy to follow and you probably wouldn’t have a clue if it weren’t for him. Surprisingly, he keeps it professional enough for a while. “Ginny Weasley tries to take the Quaffle after a near hit there to Urquhart, thanks to new Gryffindor Beater Jimmy Peakes and that very solid Bludger over there. Unfortunately, he missed-”

“JORDAN.”

“Sorry, Professor McGonagall, I meant fortunately. Slytherin Chaser Mattheo Riddle now has the Quaffle and seems to be aiming to score and- oops! He’s missed, thanks to Gryffindor Keeper Ron Weasley. Good on you, Weasley,” Lee says, unable to be impartial as shown by McGonagall’s glare. “As for the Slytherin Keeper, Nott seems to be distracted by something in the Gryffindor stands. Or should I say someone.”

Laughter echoes in every stand, much to your utter humiliation and some people even start whooping and cheering in your direction. Theo’s antics are common knowledge at this point, but it doesn’t make the laughter any less embarrassing. You try and maintain a shred of dignity by standing still and glaring as hard as you can at Theo. Horrifyingly, he starts to fly in your direction.

Lee looks at McGonagall before speaking, but she merely shrugs helplessly, looking flustered herself. “Er, well it seems Slytherin are open for Gryffindor to score. No one seems to be taking advantage, however, as I think I can speak for everyone when I say we want to know what’s going on with Nott and Y/N.”

Glancing at the others, you realise Lee is right and all the players are hovering in place, making no move to continue the game. They look partly confused, but mostly nosy.

Theo stops just outside the Gryffindor stand, his attention focused wholly on you. You raise both eyebrows in question, waiting for him to speak. “Go out with me.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t quite hear what Nott is saying, but I think we can all guess he’s asking her out again,” Lee says, causing a few more cheers and even a couple groans. “Take the hint, mate.”

“Theo, get back to the game!” you hiss, wrapping your arms around you as if it’ll shield you from everyone’s eyes. “You’re embarrassing m- What the fuck are you doing!”

Theo swings a leg over the side of his broomstick so that he’s sitting completely facing you, legs dangling dangerously off one side. Lee sits up a little in his booth and McGonagall looks positively horrified. “For unknown reasons, Nott is balancing precariously in a position no Quidditch player wants to- Merlin, he’s hanging off his broomstick!”

Everyone in the crowd screams and shouts when Theo slips off his broomstick, but they quieten down and watch with fright when they see he’s still holding on with both hands. You think you’re going to faint.

“Theo,” you plead, with the same voice you’d use to coax a bloody kitten out of a tree. “Get back on your broomstick. Please.”

“Only if you go out with me,” Theo says, eyes determined despite breathing a little heavier. The broomstick is thin and despite his strength, it’d be hard for anyone to maintain a grip for long. “Say you’ll go out with me and I’ll get back on.”

“Just say it!” Hermione grabs you by the shoulder to shake you.

Professor McGonagall seems to have shaken out of her previous daze and begins scrambling around for her wand while Lee narrows his eyes to better assess the situation. “Godric, Y/N. Just say ‘yes’ and end everyone’s misery already.”

“But…” you trail off, hands shaking as you keep your eyes on Theo’s white knuckles still gripping the broom. “I don’t want to encourage this stupid behaviour.”

Theo rolls his eyes as though he can’t believe you’re still objecting. He shakes his head at you, though his chest is shaking with laughter. “Go out with me, and I swear I’ll never do anything stupid again. Fucking hell, I’ll quit Quidditch altogether if you want.”

You open your mouth to say something, you’re not sure what, but before you can get a word out, Seamus Finnigan pipes up from beside you. “Personally, I say let him fall off the bloody thing.”

Tutting, you turn to Theo just to find the idiot raising an eyebrow challengingly. His left hand begins to loosen on the broomstick, deliberately.

“Theo, don’t you dare.”

He drops his left hand completely and you scream, the noise drowned out by everyone else’s yells.

“OKAY!” you yelp, heart in throat as you watch Theo dangling from his broomstick with one hand, clearly struggling. “Okay, I’ll go out with you, you stubborn idiot!”

The Gryffindors that hear you, begin to cheer, setting off the other houses and once McGonagall sees Theo begin to pull himself up on his broomstick, she visibly relaxes, slumping in her seat as she clutches her chest. Lee soon gets the message. “Finally, after a good month of watching Nott pine pathetically, Y/N has agreed to go out with the poor bast- Er, beggar. Sorry, Professor. By the way Nott, you’ve got detention for a week.”

Now sitting normally on his broomstick, Theo grins at you like the cheeky bastard that he is, with elation clear as day on his face. You struggle to fight off your own grin and you can tell by his expression you’re not doing a very good job at it. “Pull something like that again and I’ll push you off your broomstick myself,” you warn him, though it lacks any real threat. You were more worried than angry, and it definitely shows. “Okay?”

“No more stupid behaviour,” Theo promises, sounding sincere as he nods, messy hair falling into his eyes. The wind blows it out of the way almost immediately and you find yourself wanting to do it with your fingers. “After this, though.”

You furrow your brows as Theo flies close enough to the Gryffindor stand to get off his broomstick and hop right into the crowd, landing next to you. Broomstick in hand, Theo doesn’t take his eyes off you when he holds it out to Hermione. “If you don’t mind, Granger.”

Clearly baffled, Hermione gingerly takes the broomstick from him and watches the two of you, as enraptured as the rest of the school.

You face Theo properly, looking up at his eyes to see them glittering with pride and achievement. You tilt your head in question, wondering why he hasn’t yet returned to the game.

Theo answers you by gripping your waist to pull you into a stupidly dramatic, dizzying, wonderful kiss. His lips are soft against your own and cold from the wind, but the shiver that runs down your spine has nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the way Theo is pressed against you.

You could go on forever, but the cheers and claps and hollering around you remind you that you’re surrounded by all your peers and, Godric, your teachers.

Pulling away, you clear your throat and attempt to gain back some of your dignity by keeping a serious face. Theo attempts nothing of the sort as he’s still wearing a silly grin. You try and avoid his eyes for the sake of your nerves and you mutter the first thing that comes to mind. “Erm, good luck then. I hope you win.”

This is the wrong thing to say surrounded by your fellow Gryffindors as a few of them boo at you.

Theo rolls his eyes at the dramatics, while you simply scowl, pointedly at Seamus who seems to have boo’ed the loudest. Hermione is beaming at you when she hands Theo back his broomstick, though she also gives a little frown directed at Seamus.

Getting back on his broomstick, Theo hovers near you outside the stand. You lower your voice to a whisper that only he can hear. “I still hope you win.”

Theo shrugs, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him during a Quidditch game. “I’ve already won, darling.”

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott smut #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott

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a-kaash-me-outside · 7 months

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˚₊‧ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟ ɴᴏᴡ? ‧₊˚

♡ ft. geto, toji, gojo, higuruma, nanami ♡ total wc: 10.9k // nsfw minors dni! // ♡ contents: ౨ৎ 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ౨ৎ, afab reader she/her pronouns, no smut in gojos or tojis im sorry, emotionally stunted men kinda but they grow isnt that nice (not talking abt higuruma and nanami god no), the aftermath of fwb caught feelings, consolation, emotional aftercare ig, lotta domestic fluff for higuruma and nanami's!!!! (everyone say ty @noosayog for nanami's bc she is the only reason i wrote his) ♡ listen along: casual by chappell roan ♡

- ᡣ𐭩 time passes and people change, and just because you fell first doesn't mean you don't get a happy ending + bonus continuation of higuruma's and nanami's ᡣ𐭩 -

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴇᴛᴏ [ 3 ʏᴇᴀʀs ]

on the list of people that you thought you’d see tonight, geto isn’t even in the top 100, not because of probability or likelihood, but solely based on the fact that you have not thought about this man in years. if you were asked the question from your future self, “holy shit, guess who we saw tonight?” you would’ve listed old friends, distant relatives, exes, minor celebrities, other flings, teachers from high school, people from stories you’ve only heard of, and then geto.

after that night, you really didn’t see barely any of him. a few posts on your feed: one 2 weeks after and another 2 months after that one when you remembered that you forgot to unfollow him. once on campus: him across a million tables getting lunch with some girl too long after your little thing for you to care about who she was to him at all. once at a mutual (though you didn’t know was mutual at the time) friend’s party close to graduation: you ran into him grabbing a drink from the cooler and neither of you said a single word to each other, just exchanged a very knowing glance.

fast forward a handful of years, with geto not on your mind during a single one of them, and you’re stunned, nearly speechless, as you recognize him across the bar. the track of which your mind is racing takes you stop after stop to thoughts and feelings you didn’t really ask to experience. they follow a curving roadmap in your mind of: why is he here? ↝ wow, he looks great ↝ does he live nearby still? ↝ that’s weird ↝ no, it isn’t weird, i still live here ↝ then what are the fucking chances that he’s here ↝ no, seriously he looks so good

he looks different though, you realize about 3 minutes into sneaking glances in his direction, in some way that you just can’t put your finger on right now. in your slightly tipsy state, you barely stop to ask yourself how you even clocked that it was him so quickly, how there was no hesitance in the recognition or questioning in the placing. he looks really fucking good.

in fact, now that all of the obligatory thoughts have come to a heed, that’s really the only thing that you can think about. how good he looks.

the events that happened that ended your situationship all of those years ago are nothing but outlines now; whatever you said or he said just sounds like underwater conversations. you can see the way that you left and you remember being dumbfounded, but everything else has lost its sting, like a story you’d recall to a friend of a friend in a setting much like the one you’re in. time has handled the memory the way that time does and as a result, when the two of you finally make eye contact after what feels like an hour of missed mutual glances, you offer a small wave. a wave that says, “i remember only knowing you in past tense. we are such different people now, i wonder what it would’ve been like if we met now instead.”

the wave was the first step, technically, sure, but he makes the literal first step. he departs from the conversation he’s been enthralled with for as long as you’ve been stealing glances and he weaves between people in the middle of their own stories before ending up in front of you.

when he does, he asks, as if he’s just randomly bumped into you rather than intentionally coming over, “shit… is that you?” he puts his hand on the back of your chair, thumb brushing your shoulder.

the friend that you’re with cocks their head, furrows their eyebrows, has no idea who this is or their connection to you, the timelines of their interactions with you spaced too far apart for one to know the other. geto notices this look, addresses it. “we used to…,” he pauses, “see each other? for a little bit.”

you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your chest at the way he describes it. “yes, yes we did,” you nod. “back in college,” you explain a little further, “been a while.”

the interaction quiets, the two of you exchanging soft smiles instead of words, and your friend knows where this thing is going before either of you even do, so they bow their head, offer their seat to geto, and take their leave in the name of some bullshit excuse. he takes it without a second thought, asking you how you’ve been, laughing about the time that you saw each other at that party, and after an hour of just talking he says, “yeah, i actually thought about you the other day.”

you nearly choke on the drink he’s bought you. you rush to put it down. “you did?” you ask.

he nods. “i don’t even remember what prompted it. i think, maybe, i saw a photo of myself from college and how different i looked and how different i feel now and then just, out of nowhere, remembered how shitty i was to you.”

you don’t say anything in return, running your finger around the lip of your glass as you stare at him. you don’t know how to say that you don’t care anymore, that you haven’t thought of those days in years, that the surprise that you displayed a few seconds ago was completely genuine, because you were so convinced that neither of you had. it comes out something like a shrug and, “we were practically kids.”

he answers so quickly, “well, kids or not, i’m sorry.”

you laugh, gently so he won’t think you’re laughing at his apology. really, you’re laughing at the notion of apologizing for an act that no longer warrants forgiveness. you laugh at the thought of giving it anyways. you place your hand on top of his on the edge of the bar. “thank you,” you nod. he nods back.

when you let him take you back to his place for old times sake, you’re half-expecting the same person from the ghosts of memories from years ago, like all of the things he said at the bar were just a last ditch effort to usher the night in the exact direction that it’s heading in.

but he’s different now, just like he said he was before he apologized, and you can feel it in his movements and his actions. more confident, more intentional. he kisses you first and it doesn’t taste selfish. it doesn’t feel rushed to get to the main event. he savors it, holds your head in his hands, and doesn’t touch a single other inch of your body until he’s found the right combination of fingertip pressure and tongue that has you melting into his palm.

your mind flickers to the notion that these actions might be pre planned because they feel so meticulous and thought out, but that impression quickly dissolves when he sinks inside of you, slowly, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he does, his hand reaching down to cup your cheek, fingers nearly trembling against your jaw when he presses his hips completely against the insides of your thighs.

“shit,” he hisses, hands moving down to your waist, fingers light like feathers practically crawling against your skin, as if each print was so grateful it got to make contact with the softness below. when he grips into the fat of your hips, he’s careful, intentional or not, pressing his thumbs into the bone, but not letting his nails leave a single mark. it’s pressured, but comfortable.

he holds you in place, slowly pulling his hips back and he can’t help but look down between your legs, watching himself disappear inside of you, a creamy mess at the base, shallow breaths recycled in his chest.

“hey,” you say, eyes locked on the tenseness of his jaw and the way that he stops himself with sharp inhales. he finds your gaze in a second. “don’t hold out on me here.” you rest your arm on his bicep, fingers curling around wherever they can reach.

you can feel it under your palm, his muscle tensing as his pace picks up, rhythm consistent, but unrelenting. the breaths come out of you quickly and you’re unable to hold any sort of facade. “ah- shit, f-fuck,” you cry, “holy shit.” you squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing harshly as strangled noises leave you without vetting a single one.

“n-no,” you shake your head, regretting it instantly as he slows down in response. you shake your head harder, “no, don’t stop, but- ah,” you groan, “your- you were- i meant,” you exhale a laugh, “let me hear you.”

his eyes widen slightly as he processes what you want from him, and then he listens. he leans down to kiss your lips and then your cheek and then your jaw and then your ear. yes, he’s fucking you better than you’ve ever been fucked in your entire life, but that’s not what makes you crumble. no, it’s his grunts and pants and breathy groans pressed right up against your skin.

you thread your fingers into his hair, twirling the ends of the locks between the tips, raking your nails down the base of his neck to the front, and then smoothing them down his chest. “more,” you mumble against him, and you’re not sure exactly what you mean, but he gives it to you, whatever it is. you’re certain he’d give you anything in the world right now if you just asked for it.

there’s a moment after when you’re lying there with him, shoulder pressed up against his, chest heaving, barely recovered, that you find yourself back in that college dorm. you don’t know why the tightness is rising in the hollow below your sternum, but it is. you remind yourself that you weren’t expecting anything from this anyway, so it doesn’t matter, but it does. you’re not sure if you just don’t want to be treated like that again or if it has something to do with geto being the one lying beside you.

when you turn your head to face him, he’s already looking at you. he doesn’t shy away in embarrassment, like it’s wrong that he’d be gazing at you after all of that. his features are steady, confident, strong. he smiles softly, brings his hand up to cup your cheek. “should we get breakfast in the morning?”

in the morning, you repeat in your head. you wait a beat, trying to come up with something to say, to proceed with caution or to discern his intentions or to at least not sound desperate, but all that comes out is, “in the morning?”

he nods, turning on his side so he can stare at you without his neck getting sore. he inches closer to you, kissing the top of your shoulder and then your temple. he drapes his arm over your stomach. “if that’s okay with you,” he says and then kisses you again.

“okay,” you nod back, lazy smile on your lips, eyelids heavy at the warmth surrounding you now as he pulls you closer to him. “yeah, sure,” you affirm, voice so soft and airy that the tightness in your chest is lifted away with the words, all that’s left is a hope you feel comfortable letting stick around.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴏᴊɪ [ 3 ᴍᴏɴᴛʜs ]

you are not expecting anyone. you have resigned yourself to a nice pair of pajamas and comfy socks and a warm cup of tea and a spot in the living room that you will only leave for a refill and bathroom breaks. you are tucked into the corner of your couch, back pressed up against the sturdy arm, legs crossed, and a throw blanket over your lap.

you are not expecting anyone, so the sound at the door should have felt a lot more jarring. well, it is jarring for a second, a few seconds actually, the echoing disruption bouncing off of the walls of your living room and back to you, but then the noises repeat themselves, like they’re on a looping track, and you realize that-

you know that knock. heavy-handed with a tight fist, back of the knuckles, not the tops. almost pittering out by the end of the three successions, like the first one is direct and assured, but the second and third don’t really bother keeping up. that knock almost makes you run to the door. if it were 3 months ago, you’d be skipping to the door.

but you hesitate for a few reasons. firstly because when the connection hits that you know that knock very well, you remind yourself to proceed with caution. secondly because it sounds the same but with a difference as small as a hairline fracture. you heard that knock far too many times during the span of a year and a half, and this one sounds almost completely identical, but there’s a half second pause between the first knock and the second knock and the raps feel less impatient.

you don’t have to look through the peephole to know who’s standing on the other side of the door, but you’re glad you do anyway. if for nothing else, it gives you a slight edge, you’re convinced, like you’ve seen him first, you have the upperhand now. at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

toji hadn’t contacted you since he left that day. no texts. no calls. no showing up at your apartment at 3 am. nothing. you kept telling yourself that you’d hear from him. when that didn’t happen, you started telling yourself that you didn’t care if you heard from him. you’ve actually been waiting for this moment, replaying what it would look like if he came back, the things you’d say to him and how you’d say them.

now, looking out at him just standing there, you’re frozen. every scenario you’ve replayed in your head, all of the emotional venting and blow out screaming that you’ve rehearsed and you can’t recall a single scene. you think about leaving him out there, about telling him to go away through the door or just pretending like you’re not home.

“i can see the shadow of your feet under the door,” toji calls out, muffled by the barrier between you guys, and yet it still rings out through your entire body.

you slowly open the door. though, even if it took an entire hour to open the door, you’re not sure it would’ve mattered. you don’t think time is something that could’ve prepared you for seeing him. seeing him didn’t even prepare you for seeing him. you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything, folding your arms over your chest. you just wait.

“i-,” he starts, but then immediately stops, half sighs/half scoffs as he leans his chest forward, eyes scanning the inside of your apartment, for what exactly you’re not sure.

“what, toji?” you ask, voice stronger- and more annoyed- than you anticipate it being. you’re grateful for that. “why are you here?”

“shit, this is already hard enough for me t-,” he says, shaking his head, corner of his mouth tugging upward in frustration.

you narrow your eyes, cutting him off, “sorry, this is hard for you?” you feel like laughing or strangling him more than you do crying, which is a desired outcome in this situation, you suppose. “you know that you haven’t talked to me in three months, right? you haven’t talked to me?” you ask, and you can feel your pulse in your wrist and your chest now, because the lines are coming back to you slowly, one by one, circling your brain, fueling your confidence.

“yeah, no, of course i know that,” he combats, like you’re the one that’s being an asshole right now.

you smooth your fingertips against your eyes, blocking the sight of him out for just a second before gesturing with your hand as you ask, “are you going to answer my question or…?”

“look, i said that this is hard enough as it is for me to just be here,” he snaps, and if you were a little less annoyed, if he hadn’t come at this whole thing exactly how he was, you might’ve clocked the desperation in his voice or the uncertainty in his pupils.

“do you know how fucking stupid you sound right now?” you ask. it’s a rhetorical question.

one week after he left, you were certain he was going to come back. you and toji had gone a week without seeing each other or even speaking. you had even gone two weeks. sure, the conversation felt much more serious and, sure, really deep down you knew this time was different, but still, you held out dumb hope.

one month after he left and you realized this was not just him being weird and distant. this was something brand new that you had never had to deal with before. you were still trying to figure out how to navigate it when the two month realization hit: that maybe he wasn’t coming back at all, ever, maybe you had done something wrong. if he had shown back up on your doorstep during that time this conversation would’ve gone very differently you think.

but he didn’t. he showed up at month three when your reaction to random memories of toji were no longer tears and guilt, but laughter and bitterness. there weren’t many things that toji could say right now that would warrant anything more than you standing in your doorway for 4 minutes or less.

“i-,” he starts, but then sighs. he looks left, down the hallway of your building, eyes shifting from object to object out of your view.

“please don’t waste anymore of my time,” you reply and it’s softer than you intend. you thought it’d come out angrier. that seems like a theme for you tonight: everything sounding different in your head. when he doesn’t reply, you start a countdown, promising yourself that when you make it to 15, you’ll close the door in his face. you only make it to 13.

“i’m not here to waste your time,” he says, with no air of disgust or annoyance, the first halfway decent thing he’s said to you tonight. “i-,” he huffs again, “i’m here to say sorry. and-,” he hesitates.

you wait, just listening. the longer that he hesitates, the more time you have to think about what he might say and how you’re standing with your door open for the entire floor to hear your conversation. you’re not sure what’s worse, having this conversation in the confines of familiar grounds or the openness of neutrality.

“and ask… are you already seeing someone else?” he finishes.

you’re dumbfounded, blinking at him slowly before responding in the only way you can think of right now, “goodnight, toji.” you shake your head, cursing yourself for expecting anything more.

“no,” he rushes to say and then stumbles over the rest, “i- i tried to see somebody else, quite a bit of other people actually…”

you scoff, squinting at him, saying more sternly this time, with an added attestation of closing the door in his face, “goodnight, toji.”

he reaches out with a quick reflex, grabbing the door before you’ve barely even moved it. “wait, no, i- fuck,” he mutters, scrambling, “can i just come in?”

“so that was your plan then?” you drop your hand from the door. “to come back here unannounced, be shitty to me, ask if i’m sleeping with anyone, tell me that you’ve slept with lots of people, and then ask if you can come inside?” you ask.

“i didn’t have a plan-,” he replies.

“clearly,” you interject.

“but i’m trying,” he finishes, and you’re waiting for there to be more, to explain exactly how this constitutes as trying, because you don’t really see that here.

“fucking christ, toji, you’re going to have to try harder than whatever the fuck this is,” you sneer.

“we- we had a good thing,” he tries again. you don’t understand how every time he opens his mouth it gets worse and worse. why are you even entertaining this anymore?

“fuck you, man,” you scoff, and it feels like all of the anger has left your body, and in the void where it once was present is nothing but disinterest.

“no, not like that,” he backpedals. maybe if he would say more than four words at a time, or four better words at a time, then you wouldn’t have to keep filling in the blanks or being pissed off or- “for the last six months of our relationship, i didn’t sleep with anyone else,” he admits like it’s the answer to all of your problems. the word relationship burns at the forefront of your mind so hard that you don’t realize what he’s said for 10 whole seconds.

“i, so what?” your voice is unconvincing even to your own ears. you had slept with other people even 2 months before that last day. that wasn’t the issue. you guys were allowed to sleep with other people. you had an explicit conversation about the fact that you could sleep with other people, something along the lines of, hey, we can see other people right? yeah, we’re not fucking dating. okay, just checking.

the so what, you had already answered for yourself, inner voice replying to your own question, screaming, you guys were exclusive, unknowingly to each other, for 2 whole months before you confessed and he left.

his answer is much different. he says, “so nothing really. i just- i needed you to know that.”

“well, what the fuck do you want me to do with that?” you ask, and it comes out bitter and discouraged, but what you really mean is, please tell me what you want, please, can you just tell me that you missed me.

“whatever you want,” he answers instead.

you take a deep breath, a million emotions coursing through your veins and up your throat. “you know what?” you say, and it doesn’t sound angry, it sounds playful, “no, seriously,” you smile and then you laugh, “fuck you, toji.” you close your mouth like you’re done talking, like that’s all you needed to say, but your heart disagrees, forces more words out into the air no matter how hard your jaw is clenched shut.

“you show up here and you’re an asshole and then you’re decent and then you say shit like that and then- then i ask you what you fucking want from this, what you’re trying to play at here and you tell me whatever i want?” you say, exasperated.

“what i wanted was for you not to leave me three fucking months ago. that’s what i wanted,” you spit, “i wanted you to tell me this shit three fucking months ago before i sat alone, by myself, sad and then angry, and the entire time, fucking missing you, you fucking asshole. that’s what i wanted.”

and then it’s there, out in the open, airing for the two of you to witness and to face, and no matter what happens, you know you’ve done everything and said everything that you’ve needed to. he’s quiet for a few moments and you let him be, not tapping your foot or rolling your eyes or being pissed off, but just letting it play out. if this is the last time you ever see toji, why not just let it play out?

“okay,” he says, and it’s soft in a way you’ve only ever heard from him one time in your entire relationship. “i’m sorry.” he pauses. “i really don’t know how to do this,” he admits and you believe him. it feels different from when he told you something along those lines earlier, but you have a feeling that this is what he was trying to say all along.

“do what?” you push, because your mind is making assumptions, but if he’s going to prove anything to you, he needs to start now.

“ask for forgiveness?” he says, like he’s thinking out loud, “apologize? date someone?” you don’t say anything. you’re looking for something more concrete than that. it takes a handful of uncomfortable seconds before he says, “actually care about someone.”

“and do you?” you ask.

his lips press into a thin line, his eyes shift from left to right again. you can feel him getting antsy with the conversation and he’s barely said one vulnerable thing. you look at him, eyes soft and pleading, silently begging him that if he’s grown from this, you’ll let him back in, you swear, but you’ve been hurt before and you know what you’re worth, so you’re going to need some sort of evidence as collateral. “yeah,” he mumbles, but it’s audible. “you,” he says like it isn’t obvious, and it’s quiet and daunted, but you really appreciate the effort.

“okay,” you say, and that’s all you say.

“okay?” he questions, confused. “that’s it?”

“yup,” you say, but your small smile and the fact that you’re not slamming the door in his face again gives away a bit more than that.

“can i… come in?” he asks, hesitant, like he’s still being tested.

you shake your head, hand gripped onto the edge of the door. “no,” you say, scrunching up your nose and furrowing your eyebrows. “because if you come in here, we’re going to have sex,” you admit, half because it’s the truth and half just to see the look on his face. (it’s worth it.)

“wait,” he says, placing his palm flat against your door, but not moving it. his hand is now inside of your apartment, the only part of his body that’s made it past this invisible barrier of hallway and your place. “that sounds like a great thing. why am i not allowed in?”

“because this is me having self-control,” you explain, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing the small portion of him that’s crossed the division back into the hallway. when you feel his skin against your pinky, soft fabric of that familiar shirt underneath your palm, you almost make a fool of yourself right after you say the word self-control, but you remind yourself what’s at stake here, what you really want.

“i came all the way out here to see you-,” he starts, but he doesn’t make a move to replace his hand on your door, letting his arm fall back to his side. it’s for the better, too, because you’re not sure how much more self-control you have already, no matter how much you tell yourself about longevity and whatever.

“if you really care,” you interrupt him, using his few vulnerable words against him, “and you weren't just trying to sleep with me tonight,” you pause, letting those words sink in, “you will go home and you will call me tomorrow morning and we will get breakfast- the least sexy meal of them all- and then maybe coffee if i enjoy hanging out with you outside of just having sex with you, and then we will go from there.”

“i-,” he starts to protest, but you cock your head. the truth is, if he said another word, reached out and touched your cheek or your hip or really anywhere on your body, if he kissed you, or just walked inside of your apartment and sat down on your couch, you wouldn’t have stopped him. you might even have gotten breakfast with him anyways. he doesn’t know that, you don’t think, but even if he does, he doesn’t act on it. he bows his head slightly, conceding, and says, “okay. i will just… talk to you… tomorrow… then.”

you nod. “goodnight, toji,” you say, hand on the door, closing it as slowly as you opened it.

“uh, yea, night,” he says back. you won’t tell anyone, and neither will he, about the stupidest small smile you see on his lips as he leaves your apartment that night or the fact that he wakes up extra early the next morning, muttering under his breath about how ridiculous dating is before he calls you at 9:30 on the dot.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴏᴊᴏ [ 3 ᴡᴇᴇᴋs ]

being away from ɢᴏᴊᴏ feels like detoxing. not from like hard drugs or alcohol, but… coffee.

like you know it’s not necessarily good for you, drinking it every day, but it’s a habit you’ve had for a while now and you just can’t seem to break it. it’s not really hurting anything in your day-to-day and you’ve been doing it for so long that it’s probably fine to just keep doing it.

but out of nowhere it hits you that maybe drinking coffee as much as you do is a waste of money and even if you don’t feel the negative effects constantly in your daily routine, you remind yourself of the times where you could distinctly feel the thump of your heart and the unsteady of your hands. you recall the time that you stayed up all night for the promise of a cup of coffee to get you through the day. in every memory that you’ve ever had in your entire college career, you’re holding a cup of coffee.

so one day you make the choice to stop. you stop buying coffee from coffee shops and pods for your coffee maker and cups from diners and accepting free ones from friends. you don’t really need a good cup of coffee as badly as you think you do. and it’s stupid, you think, because it’s just coffee. it doesn’t mean anything. just because you’ve been drinking it consistently for quite awhile doesn’t mean it has any sort of hold over you. it’s just coffee.

but then the headaches come and the irritation sets in and nights are hard, but for some reason mornings are unbearable, and you feel antsy all the time and you haven’t left your room in the past three days and the only thing you want is a cup of fucking coffee and you can’t relapse with coffee; it’s fucking coffee.

yeah, being away from gojo feels a lot like detoxing from coffee.

you try to just not see him. it’ll be easier for you if you just don’t see him, you tell yourself. you go out of your way to avoid his walking path on campus and you refuse to leave your dorm when you don’t absolutely need to in fear of bumping into him or worse, just seeing him from afar, and god forbid you even come within three streets of the corner where his apartment resides. you block his number and you delete social media off of your phone for the time being, too many mutual friends to make casualties, and you do not let yourself think about him. not falling asleep, not when you wake up, not while you’re doing homework, not in your dreams or in the shower, not when something reminds you of him, not when you see his favorite show on your recently watched, not when you really need a good cup of coffee.

and it works for a while.

but not forever.

three weeks into your detox and you’re doing such a good job at not thinking about gojo that you mix up his monday schedule with his tuesday schedule and on your way back to your dorm, you see him. if you keep walking at the same pace that you’re walking, you will collide with him. if neither of you do anything, one of you will get hurt.

you look down at your phone, hoping, in the forefront of your mind, that he didn’t see it was you. (in the back of your mind, you’re hoping that he’s the one to break the longest bout of silence the two of you have had since you met.) when you sneak a glance, he’s already almost reached you, jogging to catch up with you. “hey,” he calls out, just in case you haven’t seen him.

“hi,” you say, stopping in place and letting him approach you.

“i’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” he offers, like you wouldn’t have known that.

“oh, sorry, haven’t been on my phone,” you lie. he knows that you’re lying. he can tell that you’re lying, so you don’t really know why you lie in the first place. maybe to prove a point. maybe to make him feel bad.

“look, about…,” he trails off, trying to remember how long he’s been without you, “about that… day…,” he opts for instead.

you put your hand up, waving the topic off. you mean to say something like, don’t worry about it, see you later, but it comes out like, “we don’t have to talk about that here.” here. fucking here. if you would’ve left those four letters out, it would’ve been a perfect line to walk away with, but you don’t. your stupid coffee-craving brain tacks it on, hopeful.

“right,” he says, nodding, “should we get coffee maybe, then, or?”

it’s not out of the ordinary, or it didn’t used to be, but now it feels taboo. you want to snap and ask him if he’s sure, because coffee sounds a bit too much like a date for people that aren’t together, but you realize very quickly that the irritation from your coffee detox is maybe a little bit too much to hold in without any closure. “sure,” you agree, “i just got done with class so we cou-.”

“i know,” he says, because three weeks hasn’t erased your schedule from his brain either.

you order an iced tea. you’re still convinced you’re done with coffee for good. he looks surprised at your choice, like he’s never seen you order an iced tea before, because he hasn’t, but he doesn’t say anything. you sip on it throughout unpleasant pleasantries and it’s refreshing, but it’s lacking something. in fact, the longer that you drink this stupid drink that has caffeine anyways and isn’t as good, the irritation bubbles higher and higher until- “can i start?” you ask, tapping your fingers against the table in rhythmic succession.

“yeah, sure,” he says, bringing his coffee to his lips and taking a sip.

“if at any point in this conversation your answer to anything i have to say is that we weren’t together, i don’t think we should have this conversation,” you reason, and you mean it, but his reaction takes you aback. you notice the smallest flinch when you say weren’t.

“i wasn’t-,” he shakes his head, sighing, “no, i wasn’t going to say that.”

“okay,” you say, dragging your fingertips along the condensation on the side of your glass. “then what were you going to say?”

he thinks for a minute, like he didn’t assume that he’d get this far when he brought up the idea of coffee. “i wanted to stop you from leaving,” he says.

“but you didn’t,” you rebuttal.

“i didn’t,” he affirms. it’s quiet again. you can hear the scrape of the cups against the table as they’re picked up, drank from, and put back down. the chatter in the coffee shop drones over the sounds of hesitance and nerves. “i’m sorry,” he says after a while.

“so, do you think we were together?” you ask, “and be honest. i’ll know if you lie.” you search his face as he answers, and the only thing that comes up is another flinch when you talk in past tense again.

“yeah,” he says, honest. “being apart from you these past three weeks has been one of the shittiest things i’ve ever been through.”

“ever?” you ask, quirking your eyebrow, as if it isn’t somewhat true for you too.

he nods in response, continuing, “it’s been hard.” he pauses. “i’m sorry i was so shitty.”

“pretty shitty, yeah,” you agree, but you can’t hide how nice it feels to just talk with him again, to call him shitty and to sit across from him at a coffee shop table. “i’m sorry i ghosted you these past few weeks,” because it deserves to be said too.

“i really missed you,” he says, and he doesn’t hide from it. he looks you directly in your eyes and you can tell that he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand. you want that too.

“me or just, like, sleeping with me?” you ask, somewhat terrified of the answer, scanning his face for the truth once again.

he laughs softly and, try as you might, you can’t stop the fluttering in your stomach or the warmth in your cheeks hearing that for the first time in too long. “please, i haven’t thought about sleeping with you once,” he jokes.

“oh, no? not at all?” you ask, scoffing lightly, a tiny smirk threatening to break.

he forces a thoughtful frown, shakes his head dramatically and says, “can’t say that i have.” you’re laughing now, but through smile-squinted eyes you can still tell that he’s actually being genuine. “not really,” he says.

“so just me then?” you ask to make sure.

“just you,” he affirms. “a lot of just you.” you hum, content with his answer, but he gives you even more than thought he ever could, “i don’t want to just go back to the way things were. i don’t think that’s enough for me anymore.”

even though you’re sure a response like this would’ve sent waves of shock through your entire body, it doesn’t. it just feels right. you reply quickly, “good. i don’t think it’s enough for me either.” you reach across the table. the back of your hand brushes against his, and then past it. you wrap your fingers around the handle of his coffee cup and bring it to your lips.

he doesn’t protest or snatch it away from you or make a snarky comment. he places his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow against the surface of the table, and smiles at you. you take a sip from his mug, warmth spreading through every bit of your body.

why would you deprive yourself of coffee when it brings you so much comfort?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ʜɪɢᴜʀᴜᴍᴀ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

you’re not exactly sure how many times something has to happen before it becomes a theme.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“do you -huff- want to -huff- have kids someday?” higuruma asks from beneath you, palms resting on the tops of your knees, thumbs massaging up to the insides of your thighs.

you slow your bounces and then you stop them completely. you blink at him once and then twice. “that is a really wild thing to ask while you’re inside of someone,” you scoff, searching his face for any kind of tone indicator. is he being serious? is he just saying something to get a rise out of you? is this a kink thing?

he smirks, placing his hands on your hips, coaxing you to continue your movements, and you do. you lift yourself off of him, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as you chase the feeling you lost when he asked the question. you’re breathless when he asks again, the repeated question no longer stilling you. the second time around it feels almost normal. “do you?” he asks on his exhale.

you shake your head and then tilt it side to side, closing your eyes so all of the conflicting fast paced movements don’t dizzy you. “i- don’t- know-,” you huff, “maybe- conversation- for- a- different- setting.” each word is punctuated by the slap of your thighs against his hips. he nods, completely okay with that answer, and then just drops it.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“shit,” you say in realization, hips circling, fingers combing through his hair. you pull your head away from his shoulder, pushing yourself up to look him in the eyes. “wait, how did your meeting go today?” you ask, and this time neither of you miss a beat.

when he slows to think about it, you pick up his slack, rolling your hips, feeling the drag of him inside of you, a breathy moan floating up your chest. he answers over your noises, “really good actually.”

“everything as planned?” you ask further, genuinely just as invested in this as you are in the act.

he nods, smiling. “yeah, to a t,” he says, wrapping his arms around your lower back and pulling you against his chest. he kisses the side of your temple, holding you in place with a tight grip as he lifts his hips off of the bed, thrusting into you. “surprised you didn’t ask as soon as i came through the door.”

you shake your head against his shoulder, placing a soft kiss against his collarbone. “was thinking about it all day,” you explain. he fucks into you faster in response and it feels like a reward for caring about the things that are important to him. “but when- shit- when you got home…,” you grunt, “it completely- ah, fuck- completely slipped my- ah- mind, s-sorry.”

“ts alright, pretty.” he nudges his nose against your cheek, peeling your attention to his face. your cheek rests against his shoulder and you blink at him, focus dipping from the topic at hand as you feel that familiar tightening in your core. he can see it written all over your face, so he drops his head to kiss you, silently communicating that you don’t have to worry about finishing the conversation right now. he’ll bring it up again in a bit.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“should we get married?” he asks, back up against the headboard, looking you directly in your eyes, gaze following yours as you rise and fall.

“you are not proposing to me while i’m riding you,” you say, shaking your head, but you don’t still or slow. conversations like this in a setting like this just don’t phase you anymore. honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he did propose right now. you’re not even sure you’d say no.

the corner of his lip tugs upward and he exhales a laugh as he leans forward the smallest bit to kiss you. “i’m not, i’m not,” he assures, “why? would you say no?”

you’re quiet for a minute, not because you don’t know the answer, but to keep him on his toes. you won’t lie to him, you don’t think, but you don’t want to come right out and say it. his questions are rhetorical anyways, half-jokes that he’s not expecting serious answers to; you’ve known higuruma well enough and long enough to be confident of that. you could’ve replied with an eye roll and a scoff and nothing else and he would’ve dropped it. instead, however, you answer, “course not. i’d say yes in a second.”

he nearly comes inside of you right there.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

maybe it becomes a theme when someone points it out.

you can’t tell if it’s intentional or not, the way that the two of you keep having these serious conversations during sex. you know that you don’t do it on purpose; things will just hit you during the repetitive motions and you worry you’ll forget them and you know that higuruma won’t judge you for just saying them, so you do. whether this is the case for him, you’re not sure.

but the interruptions just keep getting more casual. it starts with big conversations: weddings and promotions and thoughtful decisions, and then it’s like you just start remembering things in this position: work drama and mundane did you knows. it’s almost as if starting with big topics just made it seem so easy to talk about anything like this.

it didn’t help, you think, that it’s just always easy to talk about anything with higuruma. you guys have been together, officially together, for over four years now, and conversation, no matter the topic or severity or setting, is something you’ve never struggled with. you continue to not struggle with it, inside of the bedroom and out.

you’re not sure what about the position and the moment makes you so susceptible to remembering little things that you want to tell higuruma when he’s not around, and vice versa. in fact, you’re not even convinced that it’s something about the action that jogs your memory anyway, it’s probably just a really weird and common coincidence.

and then one night you can’t find your keys.

you’ve searched everywhere for them, in your car, in your bag, every nook of your room, the places where they normally are, higuruma’s coat pocket just in case, and then everywhere else in your guys’ apartment. they’re nowhere to be seen.

when higuruma walks through the front door, even from where you’re searching in the kitchen, you hear him let out an elongated, “woah.”

you pop your head into the doorway, “don’t say anything about the mess.” you can see his eyes resting on the overturned couch cushions and then on the various opened drawers. “hey,” you warn, pointing towards him as you walk quickly into the living room. you throw your arms around him tightly and give him a small greeting peck. it’s routine at this point; if you don’t do it your whole night feels off. “i said don’t say anything.”

he lets you hang off of his neck as he puts both hands up in surrender. “i didn’t say shit,” he says, pressing a kiss into the side of your neck, then moving his hands to your waist, “the fuck happened here though?” he laughs against your skin and you can feel the vibrations travel to your fingers and toes.

you pull away from him, shaking your head. now that you’re back in the living room, it’s like you have to start this room’s search over too. you start checking under the couch and in the hall closet. “lost my fucking keys,” you grumble, smoothing your palms over your face, “i swear i’ve looked everywhere. i just can’t remember where i left them when i got home.”

“did you check th-,” he asks, walking into the kitchen, grateful that you’re not in there with him or he knows you’d yell at him for the way his eyes go wide at the clutter and chaos everywhere.

you cut him off, “wherever you’re about to say, probably yes, ughhh. i’ve retraced my steps, i’ve looked in places that are fucking stupid to look in like every pair of shoes we own and in the fucking guest bedroom pillowcases. i’ve looked everywhere.”

from where he’s stood in the kitchen now, he can see you scrambling as you vent. he leans against the wall, “well, not everywhere or you would’ve found it by now.”

“i’ll kill you,” you say, eyes snapping up to meet his to show how serious you are.

he just laughs, “i’ve got a pretty good lawyer, you might not want to do that.”

“good legal can’t help you when you’re dead,” you snap, almost completely joking. he meets you back in the living room, helping you check all the places you’ve already checked.

15 minutes pass and then 35 and then he stops abruptly. “oh my god, i have an idea,” he says, and you look at him, hopeful. “you know when you usually remember things?”

your first reaction is joking annoyance, picking up a throw pillow and sending it his way. he catches it and sets it back down on the couch. “i’m serious!” he yell-laughs.

you throw another pillow at him as your second reaction sets in. “that’s not going to fucking work,” you say.

“how do you know?” he asks.

“because,” you say, trying to come up with a good answer other than just blind doubt, “because i don’t remember things while i’m riding you. it’s not a fucking superpower.”

“you don’t know that,” he jokes back and braces to be hit with another pillow. “okay, okay, but i’m being serious! besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen? you don’t remember and we’ve had sex, how horrible,” he reasons.

you let your arms fall, pillow in your hands resting against the tops of your thighs. you look at him, thinking, which, in hindsight, was a dumb thing to do, because higuruma can see the contemplation on your face.

eight minutes later and he’s inside of you and you’re the most embarrassed you’ve ever been.

“this is so stupid,” you mumble. you haven’t moved an inch after slowly lowering yourself onto him. you’re fully seated against his hips, hands smoothing over your face and then lingering there, covering.

he reaches up, fingers soft and kind as he wraps them around your wrists, pulling them away from your face. “ts not stupid,” he reassures, but you’re not convinced. you groan, turning to look away from him, but that just won’t do. he reaches up again, soft grip on your chin coaxing your gaze back to his. “hey,” he says softly, “just focus here, angel.”

you listen, somewhat, mind still flickering back to why you’re even riding him in the first place. “just enjoy yourself, okay,” he tries again, rolling his hips upwards, pressing himself inside of you as deep as he can. you close your eyes, and it’s quite easy to just focus on the feeling of being as full as you are right now. “good,” he whispers, “just like that.”

it doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself completely, moving on your own, letting the whimpers and whines take over any other thought you might think to say, chasing that feeling rather than worrying about whatever you’ve lost.

it all kinda clicks at once: where your keys are and why you always remember shit when you’re like this.

in the midst of everyday noise, so many things get lost: important and unimportant thoughts alike. but now you’re not worried about anything else. you don’t care about anything else right now. you don’t have to. you don’t want to. and in this state of letting everything go, mindless and blissful, some things slip back through the cracks.

you collapse onto higuruma’s chest, spent and happily aware of this new revelation that you have not, for once, shared in the middle of sex, but kept quiet as a come down surprise. you hum softly as he rubs up and down your back, hum again as he presses a kiss into your forehead. “m sorry it didn’t work, angel,” he murmurs.

you turn your head, ear pressed right against his heart as you gaze up at him. “i left them in the fridge,” you reveal, and he knits his eyebrows together.

you assume that he’s going to say something about how did you leave them in the fridge? or why are they there? but instead he questions, “what? and you didn’t tell me until now?” like you’ve harbored a life long secret. you laugh softly, snaking your hands up and scratching your nails against his scalp, playing with the ends of his hair. “don’t think this is going to get you out of it,” he says, “‘ts my favorite thing when you just blurt shit while you’re on me.”

you can feel the warmth in your cheeks and your chest as you breathe a laugh. “you’ve never told me that before,” you murmur.

“think it’s cute when you just can’t wait to tell me things,” he says, “feels more intimate than being inside of you.”

“ew,” you say, scrunching up your nose, even though you weirdly agree.

he just laughs in response. a few seconds of quiet comfort pass before he backtracks, “wait, why the fuck are your keys in the fridge?”

and you tell him all about it, about the day that you’ve had and how you remembered you hadn’t drank enough water so you were refilling your bottle from the pitcher in the fridge as soon as you got home from work, but your hands were full so you set your keys on top of the leftovers from yesterday, but then you had to go and set everything down and the fridge closed and by the time you left the kitchen you remembered you needed to do something else… and it just keeps going.

you tell him as you’re taking a shower and as you’re eating dinner together and as he’s brushing his teeth and you’re washing your face and laying in bed and setting your alarms. every room in the house is a mess, but you’ll deal with that later, you decide. you rest your chin on his shoulder. “and how was your day?” you ask, even though the clock reads much later than it should for how much sleep you both should get before you’re up early for work tomorrow.

nevermind that, he decides, and tells you all about it anyways.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

“can i ask you something and when i ask you, you’ll know i don’t mean anything bad by it at all because i love you more than everything in the world?” you ask, putting down your phone only after you’ve finished your sentence.

you wait a few seconds for nanami to take in what you’ve asked. he reaches over to the night stand for his bookmark and sticks it between the pages. he shuts it with an audible shuffling of paper and a sharp thump.

nanami has been with you long enough to not typically be surprised by your out of the blue… questions. (dronings? is there a word like droning but the connotation is more positive? like you talk at him a lot and he loves to hear the ramblings in your brain, but sometimes he is just trying to read his book before bed. whatever that word is.)

he places the book on his lap and then turns his chest towards you completely. you now have his full attention. “is that a yes?” you ask.

he inhales deeply, “if i say no, will you still ask it?”

you think on the answer to that question, really mulling it over before shaking your head. “no, i don’t think so.”

“then yes,” he smirks, “i suppose i have to say yes then.”

“great,” you say, tossing your phone onto your bedside table with a clunk. you sit up straighter, rocking forward to fully adjust your position on your side of the bed. you put your hand on his thigh and cross your legs, letting your knee rest on the side of his comforter covered hip. “do you ever regret not dating more?”

it definitely takes him by surprise. he thought you might drop another weirdly specific hypothetical about would he love you if… or request a glass of water even though you already told him tonight when he was getting into bed and he asked if you wanted one, that you did not.

now he’s the one mulling over your question and despite how nerve wracking it could be to wait for an answer to a what if that involves not you, you’re not anxious in the slightest. you’re quiet, just waiting for his answer, and when he finally speaks, you know exactly why you weren’t scared in the first place, “i’ve honestly never thought about it since i met you.”

“really?” you ask, and you’re mostly feeling very lucky that nanami is yours and you are his, but there is an underlying feeling of guilt that he’s unintentionally caused with this statement.

he nods. “sounds like you have though,” he says, and it’s not even a little bit judgmental. it sounds like he’s imploring you to keep talking, like he wants to hear exactly what you’re thinking, why you brought it up in the first place.

“i wouldn’t trade this security, this love, exactly what we have, you for anything in the world,” you start to explain, and it’s nothing but the truth, “but sometimes i just think about that first night when we were in that bar. the flirting, the risks, that feeling of not knowing where the night is going to end up. sometimes i think about that a little bit.”

he hums, thinking about that night, and after a few seconds of silence, he speaks up again, “first date nerves,” he nods, “now that i think about it, i miss those.”

you cock your head at him. that’s a weird part of dating to miss, you think, but then he explains further, “like when we went out on our first date and i didn’t know what you were going to wear or if you liked the restaurant i picked or if you’d let me pay for your food.”

“or if i’d take you back to mine,” you joke, raising your eyebrows at him, but really you’re burning inside. your cheeks feel warm just hearing about these feelings he’s never mentioned to you before.

“yeah, that too,” he laughs, getting back on track, “like, i’m still finding out new things about you all the time, but back then i was discovering who you were every second we were together, and that- that felt like…”

“like finding out soulmates were real?” you ask, because that’s what it felt like to you, that same exact phenomenon he’s describing. he smiles at you warmly, like you’ve just put to words what he felt he could only experience. “i know what you mean,” you smile.

he leans forward, cupping your cheek with his hand and guiding you towards him. he kisses you softly, placing his other hand on your other cheek and kissing you harder. “should we go on a first date again?” he asks against your lips, barely pulling away to speak.

you laugh, but when you pull away, you can tell he’s not joking. “what?” you ask, “what do you mean?” you’re already blushing though, already feeling the exact first date nerves he was just talking about.

“let’s go on a first date,” he repeats himself. “i’ll pick you up at your front door and i’ll choose the restaurant and it’ll be a surprise and i’ll ask you questions that i’d ask you on a first date even if i know the answers to all of them and more at this point.”

you’re smiling so big that your cheeks are sore as you nod fervently at the concept. “okay, yeah,” you agree.

“right, so we probably shouldn’t kiss or make out or sleep with each other until then to really play into the whole thing?” he teases, and you roll your eyes in response.

“you’re very funny, kento,” you say, leaning in, brushing your nose against his. he doesn’t even last a second, closing the gap with a small peck and then another and then another and then a much longer one and then he’s putting the book on his nightstand so he can pull you into his lap.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

you get a text 5 minutes before 7 that nanami is going to be 3 minutes late picking you up. the text looks a little weird underneath a thread of:

>> nami <3 >> how’s work baby

<< read << if you love me you’ll come and pull the fire alarm to get me out of here early :) :) :)

>> nami <3 >> fine but that’s a class four felony in some cases. will you be providing legal assistance or should i look elsewhere????

<< read << how do u know that?? nerd!!!

>> nami <3 >> google tbh.

<< read << wow. first i have to stay at work all day alone and sad and now i get to know my bf isn’t sexy and off the dome smart about everything. :(

>> nami <3 >> goodbye.

<< read << :(

>> nami <3 >> i love you

<< read << :)

you bite back the urge to reply with something you’d say to him after knowing him for years. rereading the text and thinking back to your first date, it makes you giggle. actually, it makes you kinda nervous. you text back a polite no worries! take your time! and he replies with a heart and you truly feel like you’re dating for the first time again. you feel honest to god giddy.

arriving to the restaurant, you are genuinely surprised. you thought after knowing him as long as you have and having gone to as many restaurants with him as you have, you’d go back to somewhere nice you’ve already been. but that isn’t the case.

he drives you to a pop-up restaurant 20 minutes out of town that you’ve never even heard of, but is the cutest place you’ve ever been, and the entire time he can’t stop sneaking respectful glances at you. he won’t stop telling you how nice you look. he even apologizes for it by the sixth time, pushing your chair in at the restaurant saying, “i know i keep mentioning it, and i’m sorry, but if i said it every time i thought it, it’d be a never ending string.”

if he keeps this up, you’re going to feel like you’re cheating. this seriously feels like a first date, like you’ve been in a relationship for over 5 years and you’re also going on a first date and it’s really messing with your head, but you never want it to stop.

he stays true to his word, asking you questions he already knows the answers to, but hearing them again, they sound brand new. he doesn’t know if he’s just forgotten some of them or if the testaments of time have weathered your answers just enough to sound unfamiliar, but either way, he’s hanging on to every word.

by the end of the night, you’ve truly convinced yourself that there are stakes to this date, like if you play your cards wrong, you won’t get to keep seeing this incredible guy. he pays the whole bill, even though you insist on getting your meal or at the very least dessert. he says, “you can try next time too.” and you can’t breathe, you feel so lucky.

“i’m sorry if this seems forward, but i’d really like to keep seeing you tonight,” you say as the waiter takes away the paid bill, and your heart is thumping so violently against your chest, you swear he can feel it too.

he shakes his head, “perfectly forward,” he smiles, “your place or mine?” you break character for the first time tonight, giggling at the reality of the question, hiding behind your hand as you do. “what’s so funny?” he asks, but he’s grinning just as big as you are.

“just thinking about how dreary my life would be if i hadn’t gone on this first date,” you say, and it’s a little too meta, but he’ll let it slide, because he’s a bit flustered at the sentiment. “mine is great,” you answer, placing your hand on his, rubbing the tips of your fingers against his knuckles.

everything about the rest of the night feels like a first too. it feels like your first kiss in front of your front door. it feels like he’s seeing “your” apartment for the first time. it feels like you’re making out on your couch for the first time.

it feels like the first time he’s ever been inside of you.

when he pushes deeper into you, eyes on yours shut tight, you tell yourself that you want to pretend you’re on a first date every single day of your life. you can’t stop whimpering, pleading for him to never stop fucking you ever, please don’t stop, please never fucking stop.

you break character for the second time when you’re right on the edge. he keeps looking down at you with so much love in his eyes and his hands all over you feel like they know every inch of you, and you can’t stop yourself. you grab his face in your hands, “kento, baby, please, ‘m gonna- ‘m sorry, i- fuck, please. i love you, fuck,” you whine, and he can’t stop himself either, hips stuttering, head falling against your shoulder as he feels you clenching around him as he empties himself inside of you, murmuring how much he loves you right back.

the way you’ve been feeling all night: blissful and coy, it’s not because it’s a first date, it’s because he’s nanami. it’s because he’s orchestrated the entire night and no matter how “new” everything feels, the underlying foundation of that newness, and the reason everything feels so good, is familiarity and safety.

“i’m sorry that i-,” you breathe, but he stops you, reaching his hand up to drag his fingertips against your lips, and you laugh, pressing a soft kiss into them. “okay, okay,” you say, and he places his hand back down by his side. “done with the first date stuff, just want to be yours again,” you murmur.

he scoffs, light, and you can hear his smile in it. he falls over onto his back, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. “never weren’t,” he mumbles against your hair. “always will be,” he mumbles again, holding you tighter.

“good,” you say back, settling into his arms like that’s the only thing you know to be true in the entire world. you wouldn’t trade that truth for a million first dates.

sure, holding your breath at quick witted flirts and stolen glances is nice, but it’s a lot nicer just knowing that you will never be loved better and you will never love harder.

♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡ no bc the yelling really worked very well idk yell at me more to write a continuation for toji (maybe also gojo bc hes the only one i havent written even an inkling of smut for) idk i'm just thinking of so many scenes idk throw hcs at me in my inbox IDK! toji dating for the first time? got me fucked UP

ᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴀɢs ᡣ𐭩 @igocrazyeveryday @vernasce-blogs @minty86 @abrielletargaryen @pompompompompompompom @mysticrays @lilolpotato @thisisew @pnkoo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @ryumurin @cisseadven @multi-fandom-fanfic @noosayog @anxious-chick @mintleafwrites @(tried to tag some other folks but couldnt!!)

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #toji smut #gojo smut #nanami x reader #nanami smut #higuruma x reader #higuruma x reader smut #higuruma smut #nanami x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #actually not really tbh theres no smut in tojis or gojos cant even lie #toriwritesshit

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fernandopiastri28 · 5 months

Note

Oscar is angry about carlos situation and his Miami GP result so y/n helps him relax (maybe a handjob,maybe Smut..you chose)

the city that keeps the roof blazing ~ oscar piastri

“Please,” The heat between her legs is near unbearable from how desperate he sounds, and her thighs chafe from how she’s kept them squeezed together as an attempt to relieve some of the ache of her cunt. “Y/N, I need you,” The tips of her fingers jut down to splay across the bulge in his shorts, applying some sort of pressure to the spot. He groans, grabbing her wrist and pushing down harder so she’s fully palming him. He sits on the edge of the bed, looking all pretty and desperate just for her as she continues her ‘massaging’. “You’ll get it Osc, I promise,”

| warning ~ smut, degrading language. MDNI

Y/N’s heart thrums in her chest, an anxious sweat pooling across her back under her corset dress. Oscar’s not doing well, having taken a hit from the Ferrari of Carlos Sainz and losing his front wing as a result. He’d had to pit, finding himself in last, only in front of Logan who’d already DNFed. Her nails are bitten up, rough on the edges. She can hope and pray for at least a points finish, even if it’s just one or two, but at this point, the whole situation is looking rather dire.

If Oscar doesn’t already despise Carlos, he certainly does now.

In the final few laps, the team instructs Oscar to basically not pull anything stupid and risk Lando getting his first win. It’s honestly offensive of them, as if Oscar has ever done something to sabotage anyone else in any circumstances. In anything, the McLaren team should be focusing on getting a penalty awarded to Carlos for his shitty stunt against Piastri or figuring out why the fuck Donald Trump is in their garage.

When a McLaren passes the chequered flag first, Y/N can’t even feel happy for Lando. She just feels fucked over for her boyfriend who’s being perfectly polite and mature over the radio but is gonna be absolutely destroyed once he’s out of shot from all the cameras and media.

He’d been leading the race at one point, and now he’s having his first out of points finish of the year in 13th. Stupid Carlos, stupid fucking Carlos. Y/N looks around the rest of the garage at everyone jumping around and cheering for the brit’s win. She keeps her headset on, smiling politely as Oscar would be if he were here. She can’t muster up any excitement, so she’ll fake the bare minimum.

She navigates her way through flocks of commentators and team members as she attempts to find her boyfriend. “Oscar?” She has to crane her neck, searching for a papaya race suit that isn’t the one being showered in praises. As two men who tower over her push past, she bends her arm tighter to keep her bag in the junction of her elbow and close to her.

“Y/N,” A tired voice calls out, Oscar tugging his balaclava off with one hand. “I’m not crazy right? You say that- that was all Carlos,” He pants, wiping a line of sweat that’s gathered over his top lip. Y/N rubs his cheek, applying pressure to where the outline from his helmet is especially dark.

She nods, her hand squeezing his bicep through the thick material of his race suit. “Completely baby, you were doing so good.” She’s about to tell him that she was convinced today would be his first race win before her mind reminds her that telling him that isn’t going to make him feel better, in fact he’d probably feel even more shitty that she was expecting a win for him and he ‘let her down’.

He drops his head into his hands, letting out a noise that’s halfway between a sigh and a whine. “What is his problem with me? Because if it’s genuinely got to do with Lando and I being mates,” He groans, shaking his head in disbelief. “Just can’t deal with this right now,”

Before she knows it, Oscar’s being whisked away from her to be weighed and then dragged through endless interviews and media tasks. It’s the absolute last thing he wants to be doing, which is just going to make him more irritated and upset tonight.

Y/N has to come up with something to cheer him up.

Something certainly.

At the end of interviews, when they’re finally allowed to head home, Y/N slips her hand into Oscar’s, squeezing each of his individual fingers as she aligns the time of their feet hitting the floor. He just hums plainly, instead of laughing along with each pinch she gives to his digits. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Her tone is soft as they get into the car, Oscar’s eyebrows furrowed as he clicks his seatbelt in.

Oscar doesn’t need to be offered twice as he immediately shoots off into a rant. “He’s just so immature, he’s almost 30 and driving a 23 year old in his second year off the track. Each time I get blamed for it.” He starts the car, his eyes hyper focused on the road ahead as he just aimlessly insults Carlos. “I mean- he’s just an absolute idiot. I meant it when I asked if he was blind because in what reality did I deserve a penalty and he deserved a spot change?”

Y/N keeps her eyes on him, watching as the muscles of his neck flex and tense, his cheeks getting hot, the veins in his hands becoming infinitely more defined as he grips the steering wheel. She’s ashamed of how turned on it makes her, seeing him like this. Maybe that’s exactly what he needs tonight though.

“And-and, fuck, he’s just soo desperate for another Carlando podium that he’s willing to drive me into a fucking wall just so he can stand on the top step with his precious Lando,” He mocks him, positively seeing red. “I’ve considered Logan my best mate for years longer than those two have known each other yet you don’t see me risking all of Carlos’ races so Logan can get a fucking point,” The swears are just spilling out of his mouth at this point, sounding like a second nature to a degree.

Her hand meets his thigh, rubbing it tenderly as a way to calm him down. “Keep going Osc, just let it all out,” Her voice is thick, warm, and sweet like honey. It’s exactly what he needs right now. He needs her next to him, needs her voice in his ear.

Needs her hands on him.

“I just think he’s an entitled brat who doesn’t deserve a seat,” It’s harsh, but it’s coming straight from the heart. “I’m glad Ferrari dropped him,” It’s said accompanied with a long, drawn out sigh. He’s relieved, finally able to have gotten that all out.

Yet, there’s still a bugging sense of dissatisfaction deep in his bones that he knows he won’t get from continuously insulting the spaniard. Luckily for Oscar, he’s just about pulling into the hotel valet.

With a single look at Y/N, he conveys everything he wants when they get to their hotel room, and lucky for him- she wants the exact same.

They maintain a sense of decorum in the elevator ride up, which can’t be said about each time Oscar has a bad race. Example, the 2023 Belgian grand prix. After his DNF, his mouth had been attached to her neck and his hands on her breasts the second the elevator doors shut.

It had been a very awkward situation to apologise for after a family of four with two very young kids had entered the lift five flights before their hotel room.

But back to now, the second their hotel door clicks shut behind them, Y/N’s taunting him over to the bed with chaste kisses on his cheeks, each one just narrowly avoiding his lips. “You’re a crazy tease, you know that?” He groans, lacing his fingers into her hair and pulling her in for a kiss as they reach the bed.

She replies with an ignorant shrug and a careless smirk, “It’s fun- getting you all riled up. Makes me feel like Carlos,”

Oscar’s touch sears hot against her skin, his glare even worse. “Don’t fucking mention him in our bedroom,” It’s barely a hiss, but it’s enough of a warning to keep her in line. Instead, she decides to take action on him. Her fingers drag along the hem of his polo, tantalising slowly. She doesn’t need to wonder why that is, it's the same as when he does it along the zippers of her dresses or buttons of her blouses.

She wants him to beg for it.

The tips of her fingers jut down to splay across the bulge in his shorts, applying some sort of pressure to the spot. He groans, grabbing her wrist and pushing down harder so she’s fully palming him. He sits on the edge of the bed, looking all pretty and desperate just for her as she continues her ‘massaging’. “You’ll get it Osc, I promise,”

His legs are nudged apart by her hands as she sinks down to her knees in front of him. His eyes light up, his lips red and bitten up from how he’s been chewing down to keep in his whiny noises and begs. Her fingers expertly undo his shorts, poking him so he’ll lift his hips so she can pull the pants and his boxers down in one go.

His cock doesn’t hit up against his stomach when his tight boxers are removed, instead just lays heavy between his muscular thighs. Truly a sight to be seen. “So hard,” Y/N marvels, gently sliding her cupped hand up and down his length. One pump, two pumps. “And needy,” He looks up at him through her lashes to where his bottom lip is tucked under his teeth and his cheeks are flaming red.

Oscar bucks his hops forward instinctively, chasing the high of how good her hand, or mouth preferably, feels. He’s lucky when she doesn’t make him wait too long before she grants his wish, opening her mouth, flattening her tongue, and taking the majority of his length into her mouth.

Y/N’s toes curl in an attempt to remove her somewhat of a gag reflex she has. Today, she wants to take him as deep as she can and make him feel as good as possible. It’s deeper than she was expecting, which is definitely a win in her books. Pulling back slightly, she focuses on the head for the time being.

A string of praises spill past his lips, “Fuck, yes, so so good.” His hand snakes into hold her hair, keeping her head in place as he gradually goes deeper. “Taking me so good, sucking me off like an angel,” Her lips stretch around his thickness, her eyes void of any emotion beyond lust as she stares up at him.

Y/N’s tongue glides back and forth along the underside of his cock, disgustingly loud sucking noises filling up the entire hotel room. He cups her cheek, his thumb dragging along the bulging of her cheek. His hips inch forward, his cock stuffing her mouth full and moving towards doing the same for her throat.

Y/N feels insanely good, and maybe even too good. Panic fills her head, what if Oscar’s still thinking about pleasuring her over himself. It’s typical Oscar, catering each sexual experience to prioritise her and her pleasure, even if it means he doesn’t cum as quickly as expected. Steadying her hands on his thighs,she pulls back gradually, “Fuck my mouth,” It’s not a question, suggestion, or even request.

It’s a straight up demand.

“What, why?” His voice is more broken and weak than she’d expected. Hers is too, but that’s to be assumed when someone has a cock prodding the back of their throat.

“Because I'm giving you head to make you feel good. This isn’t about my pleasure Osc,” Her voice is absolutely ruined and will likely be even worse by the end of this. Y/N cuts him off before he can begin to protest, which once again, she knows he will. “No but-s Oscar, just fuck my face,” He gives into the carnal desire as his hips begin to snap back and forth, burying into her throat.

Drool spills out over her bottom lip and down her chin, her mind fuzzy without another tangible thought besides giving Oscar the best blowjob possible. Her jaw is aching but it’s ignored as she solely cares about getting him to orgasm. He huffs and groans, continuously sending praises mixed with harsh insults of calling her a slut and a whore as he gets more shallow with his thrusts, clearly very much so on edge.

She takes advantage of his situation, suckling solely on the sensitive tip as he warns her that he’s “So close Y/N, I’m ‘bout to cum,” The fact that she doesn’t budge or show any signs of slowing down tells Oscar enough. With three pumps of her hand on his cock, he’s spilling out into the wet heat of her mouth. As if time and consciousness is slipping further from her, his index and middle fingers tap her cheek to get her to pull off, then again to tell her to swallow.

Her jaw goes lax to show the proof that she did what he told her to as he takes his shirt off, gently wiping a mixture of cum and drool off her chin. Her eyes fight so hard to focus on the glorious sight of his toned abdomen and well filled in muscles as he cleans her up, but she’s so overwhelmed by the pleasure that she not only gave, but genuinely got from that experience.

Oscar scoops Y/N up onto the bed, arranging her under the sheets so he can cuddle up against her, his chest to her back and his arms slung loosely around her stomach. “That was perfect,” He murmured, pecking at her cheek and ear as a further thank you.

Her throat does indeed ache, but it’s a worthy pain. “You’re not as upset about what happened with Car-” She can’t even finish the spanish ferrari’s name or her question before her boyfriend has his hand squished over her mouth.

“No saying his name,” He shakes his head, tutting disapprovingly. “But yes, I feel much better. Thank you babe,”

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri smut #f1 #formula1 #formula one #f1 2024 #miami gp 2024 #miami grand prix #carlos sainz #oscar and carlos #ferrari f1 #mclaren f1

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probably-writing-x · 2 years

Text

Blushing Boy

Drew Starkey x Reader

Summary: There were few things that made Drew Starkey lose his confidence, in fact, perhaps only one could truly ever do it; you. He didn’t know how, or why, but you just seemed to have that goddamn effect on him.

Warnings: Nothing besties, just fluffy as heck

Author’s Note: Thank you so so much for the love on my other post, I just had to post this one too !! Please please send in any requests you have my angels <3

Not my gif

You were just about nearing the end of press for Outer Banks Season 3, and all bases had been covered - you’d done interviews to see how well you knew your cast mates, ones looking at scenes from the show, and, of course, the puppy interview. Today was your last day, though all of you were split up in different places, on different projects, and so the last day of interviews would be done over zoom. This was your first experience working on the show, having come in to play Rafe’s love interest as the start of the season. Thankfully, the fans had fallen in love with you, and especially with your storyline with Drew. So much so, in fact, that they’d started to ship you two as actors as well, adoring every moment that they saw you spend together. The two of you were just friends, but you can’t say you didn’t find it amusing whenever theories were made. And, being honest, some of the edits did make you two look cute.

That was your side of things, anyway. Drew had fallen for you at the same rate that Rafe had fallen for your character. He wanted to see you every morning you started work, waiting to catch sight of you on set. He wanted to film all of his scenes with you, watching in awe whenever you acted. He was mesmerised whenever he saw you at events, amazed by you from the red carpets to the earliest of mornings. Drew felt like a schoolboy around you, stumbling over his words, blushing at prolonged eye contact, ears pricking up at the sound of your name. And it only got worse the more he saw of you.

“Okay, thank you guys all for joining me today,” The interviewer begins, smiling widely into the screen, “We’ve got Madelyn, Chase, Madison, Rudy, Jonathon, Carlacia, Drew and (Y/N), the cast of season three of Outer Banks, now streaming on Netflix. How are you guys doing?”

“I’m good,” Madelyn smiles.

“I’m tired, I flew back from Paris today and I’m so jetlagged,” Madison laughs.

“Okay, we’ll start off with a question for Chase, how has it been with the new additions to the cast this season - with Carlacia and (Y/N). How does that fit in with the dynamic of you guys working together?”

Chase leans closer to his microphone and speaks, “You know I think we got really lucky again to work with another great group of people, we all get on so well and these two just fit in perfectly with that, and it makes it so easy to go to work when you’re with such a good bunch.”

“Amazing, and (Y/N), what was your experience like being on set?”

You shift in your seat, glancing at all of the faces on screen, “Like Chase said, it was just ideal getting to work with everyone, it’s like being on one long holiday all working together, you’re out in the sun everyday, you’re on the water, you’re doing stunts, it was just such a great experience. And I was so lucky to get to share the screen with Drew, he makes it so easy to come into work everyday and, I mean, it’s not exactly hard to pretend to fall in love with him.”

You glance at him on the screen and the way his eyes seem so transfixed as you speak, like he holds onto every syllable one at a time. He’s wearing a purple t-shirt that brings out his eyes and his hair is messy in that sort of perfect way it always was.

“And Drew, what was it like to be working with (Y/N) so closely?”

“Yeah, I mean,” He coughs over his words, “It was great, (Y/N) is just perfect to work with, I couldn’t have asked for anyone better. She’s so talented, and kind and supportive as an actress and she just made me want to get up every day and come into work.”

You’re sure your cheeks heat with the vulnerability of what he has said. His are bright red too, and you’re relieved for a moment to share the same feeling even across the screen.

A few more questions are asked, Rudy explains about how many injuries he managed to pick up on set and Jonathon tells an embarrassing story about you and Madelyn from the wrap party. And then attention falls back to you and Drew.

“So, whilst I’ve got you guys here, I have to ask Drew and (Y/N) about the rumours that have been going around about you two, can you tell me anything the fans will want to hear?”

You laugh, slightly allowing yourself a bit more time before you figure out what to say, “You know, these things are inevitable when you play a couple on a show. But I think we take it as a compliment if anything, at least it was convincing enough for people to believe us, you know? Right Drew?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Drew chuckles dryly, “I’m just glad they know that we don’t hate each other.”

“Are you blushing Starkey?!” Rudy exclaims, coming closer to the screen.

Drew laughs and looks away, biting the tip of his tongue between his teeth, “Shut it Pankow.”

Everyone laughs but it’s as if you can feel all eyes on the two of you, and in that moment, all you want it for him to be there with you to share the attention. For him to be close enough that your hand could brush his, your eyes could focus solely on Drew’s, your laugh in rhythm with his. And, in that moment, perhaps for the first time, you realise that maybe those edits had realised something before you had.

“Okay, well it’s been great speaking to you guys, thank you so much for joining me,” The interviewer finishes up, closing off before telling you that you’re all done and you can log off from the call.

You shut your laptop and pull out your phone to see notifications already bursting through. They’re all from the groupchat you had with the other girls.

Oh my god did you see his face?

Are you kidding me rn??? That boy is in love with you

I’ll never forgive you if you don’t date Starkey fr

You laugh, fingers hovering over the buttons as you try to figure out a response. You wanted to tell them that they were being stupid, that there was no reason for them to think like that. But you can’t bring yourself to lie to them.

You swipe away from that chat, scrolling the short way down to where Drew’s chat with you was. The last thing he’d sent you was a fan made video of the two of you, a video from set where he had you on his shoulders in the pool and both of you fell under.

When you go to text him, he’s already typing.

And this time, you’re the one that’s blushing.

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froggibus · 1 year

Note

Hello how are you? Idk if this has been written before cause I can't find something like it but I request a simple valorant x reader where they used to have a crush on her in like highschool or whatever hehe

(maybe yoru, phoenix , jett.. if you can then gekko!!)

Reunion - Yoru, Phoenix, Jett & Gekko

Genre: fluff! :)

CW: yoru being yoru, maybe a little ooc? mostly wholesome stuff

syd? doing a request? a miracle. technically reqs are closed rn but im still gonna work through a few of them

————

YORU

probably had a huge crush on you but would never admit it

the kind of guy that would tease you/be lowkey mean to you just cause he likes you

tsundere ass mf

after you guys graduate, he doesn’t see much of you after that

and even if he does have lots of one night stands, this man struggles with emotional intimacy

whenever he gets lonely he probably entertains the idea of cute lil y/n and what could have been if he wasn’t so shy

when you join the protocol, it’s like he’s seen a ghost

goes right back to that tsundere teenager and probably ignores you

all the other agents warm to you right away tho so you’re naturally annoyed why this guy can’t let go of *whatever* you did to him in high school

on a mission with just the two of you, you finally confront him about his indifference towards you

things boil over and one thing leads to another and

he kisses you

you’re literally so shocked you don’t even close your eyes

he pulls away, cheeks BURNING and refuses to look at you

“why do you have to make everything so difficult for me y/n?”

????

FINALLY admits he likes you after all this time

PHOENIX

he was flirty with everyone in high school, so you never caught on when he flirted with you

but this man was DOWN BAD

he probably asked you out at least once but you thought it was a joke/more flattery and brushed him off

rip phoenix

he tries to connect with you after graduation but life gets in the way, and then he joins the protocol

whenever his relationships don’t work out or he’s on his last leg on a mission, he finds your face flashing through his mind

when he gets back from a bad mission and still sees your face, he thinks he’s losing it

“phoenix? you okay?”

bro is not okay

spends the next three weeks doing stupid stunts to try and impress you

only succeeds in setting multiple objects on fire, spraining his wrist and getting a lot of lectures from Brim

you end up bringing him hot chocolate & rum to lift his spirits after he’s essentially put in a time out

“so, are you gonna tell me why you had a sudden bout of pyromania?”

sighs and finally admits he has a crush on you and has for a long time

you kiss him to let him know you feel the same way

and then the two of you spend the rest of the night getting drunk and laughing about how stupid you guys were in high school

JETT

she liked you a lot in high school and didn’t know how to express it

probably tried asking you out more than once and failed miserably

just stumbled over her words all cutely and then says “never mind” and runs away

you thought it was cute and never really thought too much of it

after high school, you think about her a lot and start to realize she probably liked you

and poor jett is so swamped with missions she barely has time to settle down

and even if she does, she can’t find someone to keep up with her

she’s ecstatic when she sees you joined the protocol

a second chance!!

you get a little flustered around her now that you know about her high school crush and you somewhat hope she still feels the same way

she’s surprisingly matured and isn’t nearly as flustered around you as she used to be

tries her best to make you feel included too

it’s not long before her old feelings come bubbling to the surface tho

she’s probably the most emotionally mature of the group so she just straight up confesses to you

both of you are tired from a mission and share a half kiss/half hug where you’re just leaning against each other

GEKKO

he was definitely popular in high school but it never went to his head, he just did his thing and hung out at the skatepark

bit of a rebel

he mostly just admired you from afar, and if you were ever together for group projects, flirted with you lowkey

never anything serious or enough to make you actually realize how he feels

but enough to keep him infatuated

when Brim announces that you guys have a new agent joining the protocol, you do not expect it to be Mateo

both of you are shocked (it’s like the Spider-Man meme irl)

you do your best to make him feel welcome, taking him around and introducing him to everyone

you decide one night to take him out for drinks with some of the other agents!!

everyone starts to leave until it’s just you and Gekko

you’re both a little tipsy and start talking about high school

he admits he had a crush on you in high school and that he’s super happy you guys get to see each other again

kisses you & asks you if you want to go out again

#Valorant #valorant x you #valorant x reader #valorant hcs #jett hcs #valorant jett #gekko hcs #gekko valorant #yoru hcs #yoru valorant #phoenix hcs #phoenix valorant #x You #x reader #yoru x reader #jett x reader #phoenix x reader #gekko x reader

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thebookworm0001 · 2 months

Text

Fun Sized - Banter Update

Rating: T for innuendo

Summary: Ellana is short. Really short. So of course her companions have to tease her about it.

Link: AO3

Sera: You’re short. Like. Really short.

Ellana: What? I had no idea. I’d spent this whole time thinking everyone else was just exceptionally tall.

Sera: [Giggles] That would be a trip, wouldn’t it. Wonder if that’s why dwarves are all… like that.

Ellana: The taller the ladder you need to reach your own cabinets, the grumpier you are. It’s just a fact.

(cont. under the cut)

Sera: But you’re not grumpy. Most of the times, at least.

[if The Iron Bull is in the party]

Bull: That’s because she’s got a good view.

Ellana: I can promise you, that has nothing to do with it.

Bull: Hey, you can enjoy the painting without wanting to eat the bowl of fruit.

Ellana: Funny, I don’t see any works of art around here.

Bull: There’s some kitchen servants who might disagree with you.

[Otherwise]

Ellana: [Laughs] You should say that to my sister. I’m sure she’d have some stories to tell that say otherwise.

Varric: Anyone ever ask you if one of your parents was a dwarf?

Ellana: Oh, very original. Never heard that one before. Are you going to ask if I stunted my growth by sitting in my aravel for too long next? Got kicked in the head by a Halla?

Varric: It’s a serious question. Usually the people I see eye-to-eye with have more than a passing affiliation with the Merchants Guild.

Varric: With the right contacts and some clever paperwork, you could make some serious coin.

Ellana: Are you… asking if I want to con the Merchant’s Guild?

Varric: No, no, not at all.

Varric: Just saying, when all this is over, you have options.

Ellana: I’m sure my vallaslin won’t cause any problems in this plan of yours.

Varric: Evidence of a forbidden romance. People love a good tragedy - even better if you can scrape out a happy end despite it.

Varric: They’ll be eating out of the palm of your hand.

Vivienne: I was speaking with our Lady Ambassador earlier, and she informed me you had rather firmly rejected her suggestion of incorporating heels into your ensemble.

Ellana: I did.

Vivienne: Might I inquire as to why?

Ellana: Is it not enough that I simply do not want to wear heels?

Vivienne: Desire is reason enough to do anything, my dear. That does not make it wise.

Vivienne: You are an image for all of Thedas to aspire too, and your battle for legitimacy is not one that will be easily won.

Vivienne: It might help ease the process if those you wish to impress do not have to literally look down their noses at you.

Ellana: Perhaps. Though I doubt anyone who already dislikes me will have their minds changed by a pair of fancy footwear.

Ellana: Anyway, any respect I gained would be quickly lost the minute I tripped and fell on my ass in front of a room full of dignitaries.

Ellana: Or even better, I caught my new armor on fire. That would give everyone something to talk about.

Vivienne: Yes, well. Perhaps you are right. Some clever tailoring, then. And posture lessons.

Vivienne: One does not need to be imposing to command a room.

Bull: Hey Kitten, you ever get lost, just look for the horns. Can’t miss ‘em.

Ellana: And where do you think I’ll be getting so lost that I’ll need to use you as a landmark?

Bull: Oh I don’t know. The crowds in Val Royeaux can get pretty nasty. Then there’s the ramparts, wrecked towns, corn mazes, overgrown fields. Really, just about anywhere.

Ellana: I- I’m not going to disappear into the grass like a lost girl in a child’s story.

Ellana: What, should I leave a trail of bread behind me? Find a dog to guard me from the Dread Wolf?

Bull: I hear those Ferelden dogs come in pretty handy, actually. But no.

Bull: We might want to put a bell on you though, just in case.

Ellana: Think it’ll rain today?

Bull: Depends.

Ellana: On?

Bull: If you’re aiming at my height or my bad ankle.

Ellana: I could just be making small talk. Plenty of people talk about the weather.

Bull: Yeah, but most people aren’t wringing their fingers for an hour trying to come up with a clever way to ask about it.

Ellana: My sister was always better at jokes than I was.

Bull: That’s alright. You’ve got your own strengths.

Bull: For example, I think you’d make a very talented armrest.

Ellana: You know I can set you on fire, right?

Bull: Don’t worry, Kitten, you’re very scary.

Inspired by @shift-shaping

Bull: Solas, did you hurt yourself in our last fight?

Solas: I do not believe so. Why?

Bull: You’ve been rubbing at your neck more than usual. Thought you might’ve tweaked it after that one move. I’ve got some tips that could help if it’s sore.

Solas: I thank you for the concern. Your advice would be appreciated.

Bull: Well, first off, you’ve got to start lifting with your knees. The Inquisitor’s tiny, but that doesn’t mean you can’t hurt yourself picking her up.

Solas: Excuse me?

Bull: Oh, and you should probably invest in some cushions, maybe those feathery ones the Orlesians have. It’ll help you stay on your knees longer.

Solas: That is none of your concern.

Bull: It is when I get between you and the next templar that takes advantage of your stiff back.

Bull: Those charging bastards hurt, you know.

Ellana: What information do I have to pass along to the Qun to get you to stop?

Bull: What? It’s friendly advice. If he keeps bending over, he’s going to get stuck that way.

Bull: I’m just saying, It’s easier if he comes down to your level.

Ellana: Please just tell me who Josephine needs to blackmail for this to end.

Bull: [Laughs] Now where’s the fun in that?

Blackwall: So, you and the Lady Inquisitor, how does that work?

Solas: Much like any other relationship, presumably.

Blackwall: Most relationships don’t have one party towering over the other.

Solas: Really? That is your concern?

Blackwall: Not a concern. Just curious, is all.

Blackwall: I mean, it can’t be easy. It looks like she’d need to climb scaffolding for anything to line up properly.

[If Cole is in the party]

Cole: She is precious, held wholly in the palm of my hands. Sweet, small like the frilly cakes she brings me from the kitchens.

Cole: He likes how small she is. He thinks it’s cute.

Blackwall: Well wasn’t that just adorable.

[Otherwise]

Ellana: Oh is that a dragon I see overhead? No? Pity. I would have appreciated being eaten right about now.

Blackwall: I’m sure Solas would be happy to oblige, my Lady.

Ellana: [Groans] Kill me now.

#then she put pen to paper #dragon age #solas #solavellan #lavellan #the iron bull #blackwall #sera #vivienne de fer #cole #varric tethras #i got tired of fiddling with them #for wip wednesday i present to you: a finished wip

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dancinglikebutterflywings · 4 months

Text

I Promise | Seo Changbin

-> Pairing: Seo Changbin x Journalist!Reader ft. Sibling!Yeonjun -> Request: from @kayleefriedchicken -> Synopsis: Changbin goes to stop Reader from doing something that could get her hurt. -> Warnings: Mentions of life threatening situations and almost dying. -> Word Count: 1,020 -> Requests: Open.

Changbin Masterlist | Tag List Sign-Up | Requesting Guidelines

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. Likes, comments & reblogs are welcomed and appreciated, thank you.

“Why are you here?” Y/N asks Changbin as he pushes past her into her hotel room. She watches as his eyes scan the small room with a single double bed, a kitchenette and a bathroom off to the side. It looks as shady on the inside as it does on the outside.

“Why do you think?” he answers her question with his own as he turns to look at her. “You leave a vague message and then I... no-one hears from you in three days!” he begins to scold her. “Yeonjun was about to file a missing person’s report. The only reason he didn’t was because I reminded him how often you do this and that I would talk to my detective friend. I would have thought after last time you’d know better. How wrong was I?” he finishes with a scoff.

All through his rant, Y/N has the decency to look guilty. The last time she pulled a stunt like this as she chased a story, she was hurt badly and almost died. All her family and friends concern for her tripled. They weren't going to sit by and let her get hurt again.

Y/N nods, her eyes showing regret for not confiding in anyone. "I understand, Binnie. I made a mistake, and I apologize. I didn't mean to worry anyone. It's just... This story I’m working on is huge. It will expose some really corrupt people."

"I know my words won't change your mind, but please think about it," he pleads with her, his voice filled with desperation.

“I’ll be as careful as I can be. I can’t just give it up,” she sighs. “I’m sorry, you’ll just have to deal with it.”

“Do you seriously hear yourself right now?”

Changbin's voice rises in frustration. "You're risking yourself for a story once more. Think about the repercussions, Y/N. Your safety matters more than some awful person. I can't go through you being hurt again!"

"I promise you, Changbin, I'll be careful," she says, her voice filled with determination. "I won't take unnecessary risks, and I'll make sure to have a plan in place. But I can't abandon this story. It's too important."

He is about to retaliate when there’s a knock on the door. Y/N freezes unsure of who it would be. Changbin rolls his eyes and moves past her to open the door, revealing Yeonjun.

“It’s your brother,” he tells her. “Maybe you can talk some sense into her,” he adds, speaking to his best friend this time before leaving the shady hotel room.

“You couldn’t find a less shady hotel to hide out in?” Yeonjun cracks a joke, trying to ease the tension that had been left behind.

“Have you come to lecture me too?” She scoffs and moves to sit on the corner of the flimsy bed. It squeaks under her weight.

“Look, Bin’s not just your friend, he’s mine too. I know better than anyone that man protects everyone he loves. He’s just as protective over you as I am,” he tells her.

“Because he sees me as another sister? An annoying younger sister,” she scoffs and then realises she said it out loud. She looks wide eyed at her brother. “Please pretend you unheard that.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “For someone as observant as you, you’re pretty blind at times.”

“Am not!” she shouts offended.

“Are too!” he shouts back. “You’re the only one who can’t see how in love with you he is! His protectiveness isn’t because he sees you as a sister,” he continues as he grows frustrated with his sister. “You almost dying last time you chased a story broke me in a way I didn’t think was possible. For Changbin, it completely shattered him seeing the woman he loves more than anyone else that broken and beaten. That is why he can’t sit back and watch it happen all over again. He loves you and I know you love him too, so please just hear him out, think about what we’ve both said,” he finishes more calmly. “No one wants to see you hurt again, especially me and especially Changbin.”

With that, Yeonjun leaves the room, leaving Y/N to her thoughts.

It took Y/N a full hour to organize her thoughts after Yeonjun shared new information with her. Her mind began connecting the dots, from Changbin's protective nature to the subtle touches. Yeonjun was right – she's been in love with their best friend all along. Since the day Yeonjun introduced Changbin to her, she knew he was different, more special than anyone else she’s ever met.

As she sat there, replaying memories in her mind, Y/N couldn't help but feel a rush of emotions. She remembered all the times Changbin had made her laugh, wiped away her tears, and stood by her side through thick and thin.

Now she stands in front of his door, hoping he's home as she knocks. Her heart races as she waits for him to answer the door. She can't shake the memories of their time together, the late-night conversations, the talks about their hopes and dreams, and the unspoken connection that has always been between them.

As the door swings open, her breath catches in her throat. Changbin stands there, a look of surprise on his handsome face. Without a word, she threw her arms around him, holding him tightly as tears well up in her eyes.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier," she apologizes. "You've always been my voice of reason and your right. After last time, I should have learned from it."

"Did something happen?" he asks, pulling away. He begins to look her over with worry. "Are you hurt?"

The look in his eyes turns to one of relief when she shakes her head and looks back at him.

"I love you," she declares without hesitation. "I love you more than anything."

Tears of joy stream down Y/N's face as she holds onto him tightly. “There will be no more putting my life at risk,” her says, her voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. “I promise.”

@staytiny2000 - @kpopmenace143 - @alexxavicry - @jedi-dreea - @rainydayteacups

@tinyelfperson - @laylasbunbunny - @skz1-4-3 - @pinkies-things - @everythingboutkpop

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t0ast-ghost · 5 months

Text

S3 EP8 (For The World Is Hollow And I Have Touched The Sky) welp that’s the longest title in tos and this is a long post because I was not normal about this episode

Let’s get it started:

- Immediate red alert with Spock in charge

- You think they ever held hands?

- What’s got Chapel so upset? She’s most likely right about whatever it is

- The way he kind of yells and then lowers his voice and just says, “Please, Christine. I promise I’ll give the captain a full report.” He’s not actually mad at her and he knows she’s just looking out for him but he’s scared

- Bones can’t say that he’s the one who’s dying. He can’t admit it out loud. He says that the cmo has it (not even gonna try and spell the diseases name)

- “Without me, Jim? You’d never find your way back.” My heart- oh my heart. He doesn’t want to be cut away from the crew, let alone Jim and Spock.

- Spock is standing in the transporter room like, ‘What is going on?’

- This asteroid looks like the planet where Tasha dies to the goop in TNG

- I was looking at McCoy about to beat someone up and then it was violently revealed to be a stunt double… obviously

- McCoy was fairing pretty well in that fight until he looked at that lady

- Kirk not only fighting to get to an injured McCoy but begging (he’s using his words cause he cares about him sooo much)

- Normal! Normal thoughts and feelings 🙂

- Okay I know not very relevant to anything but I’m appreciating the stairs shot

- “You will kneel.” All three of them just go, ‘okay’

- Absolutely stunning wardrobe, makeup, and hair for the priestess though

- “THEN LEARN WHAT IT MEANS TO BE OUR ENEMY BEFORE YOU LEARN WHAT IT MEANS TO BE OUR FRIEND.” Get fucking zapped, idiots

- mhm mhm

- Good thing Kirk’s not a doctor (especially a therapist) cause this man is NOT confidential

- Kirk looks so sad. Holy shit .

- McCoy’s like sleeping beauty, cause he’s beautiful… and sleeping I guess

- MHM YEAH. So UHM SPOCK JUST- he just grabbed McCoy’s shoulder to help him up. Why does this have me blushing???

- “Well we’d better get to the control room.” Is this just the normal procedure? Find the control room -> blow shit up

- McCoy immediately tastes the random substance

- he’s dead. (Edit: NOT McCoy! The random guy)

- He CHOSE to sit in the sluttiest way possible. No wonder everyone wants him DAMN

- ‘Bones listen, you’ve got to seduce her. For the mission.’

- I- she loves his stunning blue eyes

- “Is there a woman for you?” He takes way too long to answer this. How do you explain that she just met your two boyfriends

- I love her. I don’t care. She’s so amazing. Like “Until I saw you there was nothing in my heart. It sustained my life, but nothing more. Now it sings. I could be happy to have that feeling for a day, a week, a month…a year.”

- Hiding behind a pillar works…

- Spock and Kirk listening to Natira asking the god if she can have McCoy as her mate and both of them look so ready to attack

- GET ZAPPED IDIOTS

- “for me” 🥺🥺🥺

- THE FUCKING HAND KISS

- “You’re returning with us.” “Dr. McCoy I order you to return with us.” Kirk knows this won’t work but he’s desperately clinging onto any last thing that could keep them together

- “Your decision is most illogical, Doctor.” “Is it, Mr Spock? Is it really?” IM SORRY THIS MOMENT?!? are we? are we not going to talk about this? There’s no real fight between them here. It’s Spock telling McCoy this is ‘illogical’ because he doesn’t want him to leave. And McCoy’s reply is calling Spock out, basically acknowledging that he knows what Spock is saying but also challenging him to find another reason for him to actually stay :(((((((((

- Kirk’s going to cry. That long look from McCoy looks like he’s going to cry. He’s going to cry. I’m going to cry.

- After the breakup :( Kirk is in silent hurt and Spock is pouting (he’s gonna listen to Logical by Olivia Rodrigo after this)

- WOW. McCoy wasn’t sure if they’d actually leave him. I think, if I may speculate, that McCoy was expecting rejection (as a doctor, crew member, friend even) because of his illness. Then Natira wants him, and as she states, she’ll have him for however long she can. Now, McCoy thinking that he’ll inevitably get pushed aside by the people he’s closest to is testing them. It’s a win- win situation for him, right? Either Spock and Kirk force him to go back with them, proving they won’t leave him, or he stays with Natira for the rest of his days. Ideal situation… but I don’t think he actually thought they’d leave him.

- congrats on the marriage I guess

- I like how McCoy is still in his starfleet uniform… no I do not, let him change clothes

- “Starfleet command will take care of the situation.” They’re gonna blow it up.

- “An urgent call from dr. McCoy, sir.” This is like after a break up texting, ‘you up?’

- McCoy stops answering the phone so Kirk and Spock immediately beam down to the planet they’re banned from to save him <3

- That was a fast divorce. This is the second time that they’ve helped each other divorce someone.

- THEYRE BEING PUT IN AN OVEN

- If McCoy and Natira went to an event together everyone there would fall in love with both of them immediately

- The chin tilt. He looks down and she tilts his chin back up. I love them both

- “Which indicates that the flow of oxygen to each cell of your body is back up to its abundantly energetic level.” Spock says this and is basically smiling in relief (you have to see it to believe it)

- Kirk is still in support of his boyfriend’s wife

Honestly 10/10 episode. Thank you so much for this one.

Masterpost

Episode written by Rik Vollaerts

#star trek #star trek tos #star trek the original series #spock #s'chn t'gai spock #tos spock #leonard bones mccoy #tos bones #tos mccoy #captain james kirk #jim kirk #tos kirk

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onceuponastory · 1 year

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play with fire - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: Y/N finds herself watching the street performance of a man who likes to play with fire... and she's about to realise that she does, too. Pairing: Stuntman/StreetPerformer!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: Bucky doing stunts and playing with both knives and fire. There's a few mentions of the possibility for injury but nothing happens. Reader's friend kinda sucks in this. Also Bucky being a flirt. If I miss any triggers, please let me know. Notes: It's the last weekend of the Edinburgh Fringe festival, and I've seen a few street performers whenever I've been there, so I decided to make Bucky one too! ;)

Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

“Pick a card, any card!” The magician calls out, walking around the crowd that has gathered around him. Y/N watches from her position a few rows back, intrigued by the show. In the past week, there've been several street performers performing in the city, and Y/N has tried her best to make it to as many as she can.

“Come on.” Her friend Iris groans, and Y/N registers her placing her arm on hers to drag her away.

“Hey, I’m watching this!” Y/N protests, and Iris huffs.

“We’ll miss our lunch reservation if you don’t move.” Another yank on her arm. “I don’t understand all the fuss. It’s just some magic tricks, nothing too special.” She says, ignoring the few dirty looks thrown her way, and Y/N’s hastily mumbled apologies.

“Hey, be nice! It takes a lot of courage to put yourself out there and perform in front of everyone." As the yanking on her arm continues, Y/N decides some battles are better off being lost… that and she’s starving, so food probably is the best choice. Yet as her friend leads her away, she can’t help but throw one last glance at the street performer, feeling disappointed to miss out on his show. Sure, Iris thinks they’re nothing more than a waste of time, but Y/N loves watching or listening to them. It adds more excitement to her day, something fun to do or watch, rather than window shopping. “Who knows, maybe I’ll take it up one day. I think I could be good.” Her words are mostly a joke, but honestly, sometimes Y/N does wish she was bold enough to do something like that. To put herself out there and perform without fear of how people would react to her.

“Yeah, sure you would. I don’t think you’ve ever taken a risk in your life.” Iris rolls her eyes. At first, she seems to joke along with her, but Y/N soon picks up on the condescending tone lacing her words. Her heart sinks, and she reflexively folds her arms across her chest. Honestly, despite the bitter concoction of disappointment and anger flowing through her veins, Y/N knows she only has herself to blame for this. After all, she’s not sure why she expected anything else. Iris is one of her oldest friends, but god, she can be a bitch when she wants to be. Which seems to be a lot, actually. Honestly, she wouldn’t have reacted any other way.

But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few hours later, Y/N walks around the streets again, alone this time. The sun beats down on her, warming her skin and elevating her cheerful mood. Iris left not long after they finished lunch, saying something about an appointment. Honestly, Y/N had stopped listening by that point. That’s not to say Y/N’s a horrible person who ignores her friends, but there’s only so many times you can deal with someone’s awful attitude before tuning it out completely. At least now she’s alone, she can do what she wants.

As she turns a corner, she spots another crowd has formed, and the sound of rock music soon fills the air. Excitement pools in her stomach, and she smiles. Another street performer. Her brow raised in curiosity, Y/N heads over to the throng of people, making her way towards the front. And immediately, she’s confronted by the sight of a man balancing on a precariously thin ladder that faces the crowd. As he manoeuvres himself along the crowd, despite how high off the ground he is, and the way the ladder seems to wobble every second, the man seems unfazed, and continues to chat to the crowd as if nothing is out of the ordinary, and that this is nothing more than a simple magic trick. Y/N watches him, her heart racing. Whether it’s because of excitement or fear, she doesn’t know.

“Okay kids. Don’t try this at home, alright?” He explains with a grin, pulling out three knives. The crowd gasps, and Y/N’s mouth drops open. To everyone’s surprise, the man juggles them with ease, remaining on the ladder with nothing to hold him up. Y/N watches his every move, transfixed. This is definitely more exciting than any act she’s ever seen before. As he approaches her, his gaze seems to meet hers, and he grins, winking. And something in Y/N’s stomach flutters. Something she’s sure isn’t caused by the excitement of the act this time.

“Did he just… wink at me? No… that’s crazy.” But before she can dwell too much on it, the man has moved on.

“Now, juggling knives whilst balancing on a ladder seems pretty insane….” When the man jumps down from the ladder, landing with a ‘thump’ on the ground, Y/N finds herself breathing a sigh of relief, happy to see the man is on safer ground. But as soon as the sigh has even left her lips, her brow is furrowed in confusion.

Why would she care so much about a man she’s never met? One whose job it is to live dangerously?

“And you’re right, it is. But I thought… Where's the fun in that? Surely we can make it more dangerous, right?” The crowd cheers, and the man brings out more things to juggle with. Suddenly, the song changes, and the sound of My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark by Fall Out Boy begins. And once more, Y/N registers her heartbeat increasing.

“Now for the fun part.” He calls, before taking out a lighter and lighting one end of each stick. The crowd gasps, and the man smirks, clearly enjoying their reaction. “May I have a volunteer from the audience?” Before anyone can even reply, he’s turned around and is looking right at her once again. And this time, there’s no confusion if his glance is actually for her. The closer he gets, she realises one of his arms is metal, the gold and black combination glistening in the steady glow of the fire. His other arm is full of tattoos, various colours and designs covering every inch of skin. A pair of silvery blue eyes, rimmed with the slightest bit of black eyeliner, soon meets hers. As soon as he sees her, the man grins. And something familiar in Y/N’s stomach flutters, this time even more than it did before.

“Oh god, he’s gorgeous.”

“Miss, can you please confirm for the crowd that this is real fire?” As he holds one out towards her, Y/N feels the heat radiating from the flames. It rises through her, making her cheeks burn. She laughs, breathlessly.

Or maybe the heat is just because of the incredibly attractive guy in front of her, who’s still staring curiously at her.

“Yeah, all real.” She nods. The man smirks, sending her heart into a frenzy once again.

“Good girl.” The words almost make her fall to her knees, but somehow she holds herself together. “I might need you again, so don’t move, okay?” He winks, and she nods, the words she needs suddenly caught in her throat. And then he’s gone, the fire little more than a whisper in the wind. As the man starts juggling the fire, Y/N can barely find it in herself to pay attention. All she can do is think about the gorgeous man in front of her, the way he smiled at her, and how it made her feel.

“Surely it’s just part of the act. He’s not flirting with me.” She tells herself. “But would it be so bad if he was?” Before she can even think of something else, he jogs back up to her again, grinning and breathless.

“Turns out I do need you.” He takes her hand, leading her into the centre of the circle of people. As she sees all the faces staring back at her, Y/N considers pulling out and going back to just being an innocent bystander. After all, she said it herself. She wishes she was bold enough to put herself out there in front of a crowd. And then Iris’ words fill her mind again.

“I don’t think you’ve ever taken a risk in your life.” This time, though, it’s only anger that flows through her veins. Because how dare she say that about her? How the hell does she know how good she is? Maybe she would be great at this. And if she isn’t, then so what? What’s the worst that could happen? The man approaches her again, smiling that damn smile and whispering.

“You’re a star.” Maybe there’s a reason he chose her the first time. Perhaps he sensed her desire to be more, to prove everyone wrong. And he’s just given her the perfect opportunity to do it. And she’s going to take it.

It’s time to live a little, and learn how to play with fire.

“What’s your name, doll?”

“Y/N.”

“Okay folks, Y/N here is going to help me for the last phase of the set.” He picks up the knives from before, running the edge of one along his finger. “I’m going to juggle this fire, and whilst I do that… Y/N is going to throw these to me for me to juggle, too.” The crowd gasps, and Y/N raises a brow. Turns out when she asked what the worst thing that could happen was, potentially throwing a knife into a crowd of people was not what she thought of. “Don’t worry. We’ll both be fine. I trust you.” He whispers, another wink thrown her way. Y/N decides to stop asking whether it’s because he genuinely has feelings for her, or if he’s simply trying to put her at ease. Although, regardless of his intention, his winks are still making her feel incredible.

And besides, isn't the whole point of this to live dangerously?

He starts juggling, and with every nod of his head, Y/N throws him a knife. At first, she’s obviously nervous, not wanting to hurt the incredibly talented and attractive performer, or anyone else. However, he catches it with ease, adding it to the other things he’s juggling. “Told you.” He mouths when he notices the tremendous sigh of relief she lets out. As the surrounding crowd applauds, Y/N stands up a little straighter, pride flowing through her. This is much more fun than she expected.

She throws the other knives to him, beaming as he catches them and adds them to his growing juggling pile. He juggles them for a few more minutes before bringing his routine to an end. The crowd bursts into thunderous applause, and the man grins. “Ladies and gentlemen, my lovely assistant Y/N!” He grins. “Go on, take a bow.” He prompts, and she does. “My name is Bucky Barnes. Thank you so much for coming along to see me today! Feel free to leave me a tip or share my socials.”

“Bucky. That’s not the name I expected, but… it’s nice. It suits him.”

The crowd disperses then, some leaving tips, others congratulating him on his show as they leave. And soon, it dwindles down til it’s almost her and Bucky. But then, the realisation hits her, like being doused in an ice-cold shower after the fire she’s just experienced. After today, she might never see him again. A sense of unfairness hits her then, twisting her stomach. It’s almost like another douse of cold water. No. This isn't right. She may have only met him today, but she had so much fun with him, and she’s not ready to say goodbye yet.

But how is she going to tell him that?

As Bucky finishes packing away his things, Y/N places some money in his tip jar.

“Thanks.” He appears from behind her suddenly, the sound of his voice almost making her jump. “And thank you for helping me out today.”

“No, thank you!” she corrects him. “It was nice to get a little confidence boost and prove people wrong.” She regrets her admission almost immediately, especially when Bucky raises a brow.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” Thankfully though, he doesn’t mention it any further, and instead grabs his bags.

“Do you need a hand carrying anything?” She asks, in an attempt to savour every last moment she can have with him. So when he shakes his head, she’s disappointed. However, for a moment she swears she notices a look of disappointment flash across Bucky’s face. And hope begins to build. Maybe he’s not ready to say goodbye yet either?

“Hey Y/N…” he begins, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve um.” He stammers. She almost wants to laugh at how someone who lives so dangerously every day could be so terrified at the prospect of talking to her, someone so thoroughly uninteresting, all things considered. “I’ve got some free time now. Do you wanna grab a drink?”

“Yeah.” she says without even thinking about it. “That sounds wonderful.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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kasienda · 10 months

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Just An Ordinary Girl

A love square remix of A Friend Like That by @trainsinanime. Written for the @mlsquaredance. This fic was so much fun write. Do please read the original first. It makes this one more fun! Read on Ao3 ...

“We need to stay together!” Viperion called out. “Splitting up does not end well.”

The sheer exhaustion in Viperion’s tone didn’t bode well either. Carapace didn’t want to know how many loops Viperion had gone through this go around especially considering it was his third time loop this battle.

Even from Carapace’s less than fifteen minutes of experience, this battle was awful.

The akuma was like Miraculer - he could steal their powers. But he was worse because it could split into four clones of himself.

“Okay then!” Chat Noir called. “Ryuko, Rena, and Carapace, protect our backs. Tigress and I will guard the gap! Viperion stays in the middle.”

Carapace missed Ladybug. There was nothing wrong with Chat’s orders. Carapace didn’t disagree with any of his calls. This akuma just sucked. And Ladybug just had this insane creative genius for hare-brained schemes that seemed to be able to cut through anything.

The akuma struck. Carapace narrowly yanked Rena Rouge aside and they both fell to the ground hard. His elbow took the majority of the impact, which hurt like a bitch, but he was glad it was him who took the brunt of it instead of her. And it worked.

Except one of the other clones clipped him.

A mud brown impenetrable dome manifested around all six of them immediately.

Purple Tigress punched it with her power. Nothing.

Cataclysm dissolved it, but it was immediately replaced with another.

“Crap!”

That was one word for it. Carapace might have had a far less kid-friendly one ringing through his head. The six of them were getting their butts handed to them by this akuma.

Carapace took personal offense to the barrier that stood as a mockery of his own power.

“Viperion?” Chat called.

The snake hero shook his head. “We’re on loop number 1703. This is the best possible outcome. Trust me.”

Chat Noir winced.

Carapace really missed Ladybug.

“I think we have to call Ladybug,” Rena Rouge said, turning toward Chat Noir.

“No! We can’t!” Chat objected.

Rena raised an eyebrow. “We can’t let the akuma win. We’re trapped.”

“She only asked for one weekend off! She deserves to have one weekend off! We can handle it.”

“I hate to break it to you, but we’re not handling it,” Ryuko added dryly.

“We will not be calling Ladybug,” Chat declared firmly.

The other five of them exchanged a look.

“We can get help from someone else!” Chat insisted.

“Like who?” Rena Rouge demanded. “You’d need someone who is willing to pull off crazy stunts, who is a tactical creative genius against so many, and someone who is not intimidated by akumas.”

“Marinette!” Chat exclaimed, his face lit up in excitement.

“How do you know Marinette?” Ryuko asked, her eyebrows furrowed together.

“You think Marinette can do what six fully equipped superheroes couldn’t?!” Carapace asked.

Rena’s eyes narrowed. “Why Marinette?”

“Are you kidding? Marinette could kick any one of our asses,” Chat said. “Marinette is the only person I know who has gone up against an akuma as a civilian.”

Seriously?! Did the cat have selective memory? But it wasn’t like Carapace could remind everyone that Nino had gone up against Anansi as a civilian.

Of course, he had lost, but that wasn’t the point.

“You’re crazy,” he said instead, crossing his arms.

“I’m in.” Rena said.

“What?!” Carapace turned to her in shock, feeling more than a bit betrayed.

Viperion and Ryuko nodded in agreement as well.

Was everyone insane? He turned to Rena. “You’re going along with this? You’d throw Marinette—“ her best friend went unsaid, but Rena understood what he was saying. “—out there unsupported against an akuma?”

His girlfriend shrugged. She shrugged . “If Ladybug’s not an option. Marinette is the next best thing.”

Carapace stared at her incredulously.

Chat clapped his hands together, clearly pleased with this so-called solution. “I’ll call her!”

“You have her number?” Carapace asked. What the actual fuck?

But obviously he did because he had the cat phone to his ear and it was audibly ringing. “Hey princess!” Chat greeted enthusiastically, turning away from the group like it was a private conversation.

“Princess?” Carapace echoed. What kind of relationship did Chat Noir and Marinette have?

“No.” Marinette’s firm voice echoed throughout the dome.

“I haven’t even asked for anything yet.”

“The answer is still no! I only have twelve hours before this project is due. I cannot take a break.”

“But Paris needs you.”

“The answer is no. Call someone else! Call Ladybug!”

“No! Marinette! I can’t! Last week was terrible for her. I promised I could handle one weekend. She deserves and needs the time off. Plus, we don’t need her. I know you can do this. You can do anything . Remember Kwamibuster?”

Chat Noir spoke to Marinette like he was trying to sweet talk her. Carapace didn’t like it. Chat had always been flirtatious, and Marinette deserved someone loyal and sincere.

Someone like Adrien.

“What do you expect me to do against an akuma without a miraculous?” Marinette asked.

“Whatever it is you did against Evilustrator and Hack-san.”

“I can’t do this. Not today.”

Chat only grinned at her refusal. “You always say that, and then you do it anyway.”

“What do I get out of this?”

“Your friends and family safe and sound, free to feel their own feelings and pursue their own dreams.”

Marinette groaned. “Chaaaat!” she whined. “You’re gonna owe me so much for this.”

“See you soon, Princess!” Chat sing-songed, and turned his attention back to the group. “She’s on her way.”

As if that solved all their problems.

“Shouldn’t we… I don’t know… come up with a back up plan?” Carapace asked.

Purple Tigress looked at the other four expectantly, as if agreeing with him, but the others just exchanged glances and shrugged. They honestly thought Marinette was the solution.

Carapace really hoped they were right. Marinette was amazing, but did that mean she could get through an akuma that Viperion had just spent who knew how many weeks fighting unsuccessfully across three time loops?

“You don’t need to worry so much,” Chat Noir assured, and it was galling that Chat Noir could read him so well.

“How can you be so confident? Aren’t you worried about her at all?”

“Marinette would kick my ass into next Sunday if I worried about her. She can take care of herself, and she knows what she can handle and what she can’t. I’ve learned over and over again not to underestimate her. Kwamibuster was an akuma where Ladybug and I both lost our Kwamis, and therefore our transformations. Marinette pulled off a stunt the old Guardian thought was impossible with all the remaining miraculouses using the mouse to protect her own psyche. She was brilliant.”

“But she doesn’t have an entire box right now.”

“She doesn’t need an entire box. She defeated Hack-San without any powers at all. Her super power is in how she thinks!”

Carapace held his hands up. “I know firsthand that she’s brilliant. I’m just scared for her too. That akuma handed our asses to us.”

“She’s doing fine,” Rena commented, projecting a video from her flute into the air for all of them to see.

Chat Noir flipped around the projected image, so he wouldn’t be seeing the mirror image like Nino from the back.

“Some girl just took out an akuma with a trash can and a fire hydrant,” Chat read aloud. “She ran off before anyone could thank her.”

In the video, Marinette hid in the trash can and when the akuma was overhead, she leapt out of her hiding place and tackled the clone onto the ground where the fire hydrant went off in its face. Marinette used the distraction to snatch the clone’s sash, and the thing dissolved underneath her. Then she was running away before the other three could grab her, her pigtails bobbing behind her.

Chat’s expression was completely besotted. “The way she lured him in like that?! She’s just amazing!” Then he turned toward Carapace triumphantly like a proud boyfriend. “See! She just has this way of cutting to the right idea at the right time! I could watch her working on a problem or project for hours!”

Did Chat Noir realize how he sounded?

And it wasn’t fair because Nino was certain that Adrien was finally starting to realize that he was crushing hard on Marinette.

What if Chat Noir got there first?

“You think she’ll clear this up before sunset?” Purple Tigress asked.

“Why? Got somewhere else more important to be?” Viperion asked.

“Well, not more important . But something I’d like to do, yes.”

“A hot date?” Viperion teased.

“What’s it to you?” Purple Tigress growled back.

Viperion held his hands up in surrender. “Just teasing! You deserve to get to go on your date. Hopefully Marinette pulls through. She usually does.”

“I never said it was a date,” Tigress muttered. But clearly it was.

“I have another Marinette update,” Rena announced, playing another video from the Ladyblog’s fan submission page.

“This girl is insane!” the narrator exclaimed, his camera flashing toward two bungie cables dangling from the overhead railing with two suitcases attached on either end. “She set up a pulley system with two guys’ luggage and a plastic bag to set a trap for a friggin’ akuma and she won!” The video angled back to his face. “Where the hell are Ladybug and Chat Noir?”

“Wow! That’s super cool!” Tigress said, watching the video with wide eyes.

“That’s Marinette for you. She never sits out a fight when she can do something,” Chat said.

“You really like her, don’t you?” Ryuko asked, smiling fondly.

“Oh yeah, she’s absolutely amazing! Have you ever seen her designs?” His face was as bright as the moon as he spoke.

Carapace shook his head. Chat Noir didn’t just know about Marinette’s designs. He had seen them! Nino wondered again how much time Chat Noir spent with Marinette on the regular? Even Nino had only ever caught glimpses of her work and he was in almost all of Marinette’s classes.

“You know, even if Marinette manages to take out all four clones, how is she gonna break through this barrier?”

“She’ll figure it out,” Chat insisted. “She always does. I wish we had something in here to give her to show our appreciation.”

Rena smiled at him. “I’m sure she’ll know we appreciate her.”

“I just feel so bad for interrupting her project right before a deadline. I’ll have to make it up to her.”

Yeah, Chat Noir had it bad, which wasn’t good. Nino didn’t want him swooping in right before Adrien was finally seeing her.

“Ah! We have an update on the akuma,” Rena announced, projecting the post into the air again.

“My little girl almost got hit by an akuma! Luckily, this girl knocked it out of the park before it touched her at all. And then she stayed and danced until my girl was laughing again! What an absolute angel!”

“Wow!” Purple Tigress said. “Marinette’s usually so clumsy.”

But Chat was shaking his head. “Not during emergencies or akumas. Then she’s graceful. And yeah, she trips and stumbles constantly–” he was smiling fondly as he said this. “-- which can be really adorable, but she’s really good at catching herself! She kind of has this unique way of pinwheeling her arms to regain her balance. And her gestures are so creative and expressive… Honestly, I could spend hours just watching her.”

That description was remarkably specific. “Aren’t you supposed to be in love with Ladybug?” Carapace asked.

Chat turned to him, his eyebrows furrowed in total bafflement. “I am in love with Ladybug.”

Carapace crossed his arms. “Are you sure? Seems like you have a thing for Marinette.”

“Oh, he definitely has a thing for Marinette,” Rena interjected, studying the feed on her flute before flashing him a smirk. “But then who doesn’t?”

“Right?!” Viperion chimed in.

Even Ryuko was nodding. “I admit I hold more than a passing affection for Marinette as well.”

Carapace hated that he couldn’t even argue. He had harbored a crush on Marinette for months . But he buried his hooded face in his hands anyway. This was ridiculous.

“I don’t have a thing for Marinette!” Chat objected.

“God! You’re worse than my best bro!”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re totally oblivious.”

And Nino hoped it stayed that way at least until Adrien had a chance to say something.

“No, you don’t understand. I can’t have a thing for Marinette! She’s in love with someone else. You should have heard her confession!”

“She confessed?!”

“She practiced it anyway. It was silly at first, but then just so sincere. I wish someone would confess to me like that.”

Chat’s shoulders were slumped, and his gaze downcast. Carapace stared at a dejected Chat in disbelief. Did Chat Noir really not get that he had feelings for Marinette?

Chat looked up straight at Carapace. “Do you think anyone will ever love me like that?”

Nino froze. Chat Noir, one of the two primary heroes of Paris who pranced around in a catsuit and flirted with every other person he encountered, was looking to him for reassurance?!

Today was just absolutely wild.

“I’m sure there’s someone out there for you, dude,” Carapace reassured.

There was a loud bang, and they all tensed, flipped around facing the barrier read to fight.

But the dome just faded away. Marinette stood on the other side, holding out a clear glass bottle with an akuma fluttering angrily inside.

Chat Noir plucked the bottle from her hold, smiling at her like she hung the moon. He released the akuma just far enough to cataclysm it.

“See! I knew you could do it.” His eyes were so soft, he could give Adrien a run for his money.

Marinette scowled at him, crossing her arms. “You know who else could have done it? Ladybug!! She has actual powers! Do you know how hard it was to go after an akuma without enhanced agility?”

Chat took her hand. “May I offer the princess a kiss in gratitude?”

“I think I’m the knight in this scenario,” she replies petulantly, but she didn’t pull away.

He pressed a lingering kiss onto her hand.

Marinette didn’t even blush. “You owe me bigtime!”

Chat nods. “Thank you for bailing me–” he gestured to all six of the present heroes, “–I mean, bailing all of us out.”

“Why’d you ask me? I’m just an ordinary girl.”

He shook his head. “There’s nothing ordinary about you, Marinette.” He said her name with absolute reverence.

Nino shook his head in exasperation. There was no way in hell Chat Noir wasn’t in love with Marinette. Nino would have to warn Adrien to get his game on. He had competition, even if he didn’t know it.

The other heroes surrounded her and offered thanks and congratulations. “Marinette! You are amazing!” Carapace told her. “Like you pulled off an impossible feat!” And then he bent down and whispered. “And I think if you’re not careful you’re going to break a certain black cat’s heart.”

Marinette’s brows furrowed. “What are you talking about? Chat’s way too obsessed with Ladybug to ever really see me.”

#miraculous square dance 2023 #marichat #miraculous ladybug fan fiction #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #nino lahiffe #adrien is oblivious #marinette is awesome #nino is just done #heroes are trapped #marinette to the rescue #ladybug just wanted a weekend off #my own content

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