#i could really write 5k words on how frustrating it is

[unforth]

Unpopular opinion: the heavy push toward anti-advertising on Tumblr does nothing to harm the advertisers you hate but is doing a huge amount of damage to small businesses who rely on reblogs to get the word out about their stuff.

[mononijikayu]

supersonic — gojo satoru.

Finally, Gojo breaks the silence, his tone surprisingly serious. “Was it really that bad?” You blink, confused. “What… what do you mean?” He leans back slightly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that catches you off guard. “That I like you. Was it really that bad to hear?” “......I’m sorry, what?”

Genre: Alternate Universe — Canon Convergence;

Warning/s: General Rating, SFW, Romance, Fluff, Humour, Comfort/No Hurt, Strangers to Friends, Friends to Lovers, Sorcerer! Reader, Tsundere! Reader, Feelings, Romantic Confession, Getting Together, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Happy Ending, Gojo Satoru Loves Reader But Reader Doesn't Know How to React;

Words: 8k words.

Note: the bubble words is gojo saying you shouldn't fall hard for him!!! i didn't think this would be longer than 5k but I just??? i swear someone has to tell me not to make stuff longer because i feel bad that its way too long and people just suffer my yapping </3 anyway, i love you all!!! thank you so much for reading once again <3

masterlist

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

YOU LIKE TO THINK THAT YOU HAVE GOOD MEMORY. You often boasted to Atsuya about your memory, especially during exam season or when the two of you had to write detailed reports after every mission. It was a point of pride—being able to recall every detail with sharp accuracy, a skill that set you apart.

But lately, that once-reliable memory has been betraying you, twisting itself into something both frustrating and bittersweet. Because now, instead of recalling battle strategies or obscure curses, you find yourself remembering everything about him. Gojo Satoru.

No matter how much you try to push the memories away, they persist, etched into your mind like an indelible mark. It’s infuriating because he’s the last person you want to think about. Yet, there he is, popping into your thoughts when you least expect it, with that smug grin and irritatingly carefree attitude.

You can’t forget that day during the Sister School Goodwill Event in your first year. It’s impossible. That was the first time you met Gojo Satoru, and even now, the memory of it lingers like a stubborn shadow. He was everything you couldn’t stand—arrogant, always grinning like he knew something you didn’t, and constantly cracking jokes that got under your skin. The moment he opened his mouth, you knew he was in trouble.

He’d waltzed into the event with an air of confidence that bordered on cocky, his white hair catching the sunlight as if to announce his presence to the world. You remember the way his sunglasses glinted as he surveyed the arena, looking completely at ease, like he owned the place.

And maybe, in a way, he did—after all, his reputation had preceded him. The strongest sorcerer of his generation, a prodigy unlike any other. Everyone was talking about him, and you had been curious, but when you finally met him, that curiosity quickly morphed into annoyance.

It wasn’t just his arrogance; it was the way he seemed to have an almost supernatural ability to push your buttons, like he had a map of your every weakness. From the moment he opened his mouth, you knew he was trouble.

He didn’t even bother with formalities, didn’t extend his hand or offer a respectful bow like any normal person might when meeting someone new. No, Gojo Satoru made his grand entrance with all the subtlety of a peacock in full display.

“Hey there, I’m Gojo Satoru. Don't fall in love with me too much, okay?” he said, his tone so light and casual it was as if he was talking about the weather. 

And then came that wink—oh, that infuriating wink. It was the kind of wink that dripped with self-assurance, as if he’d already decided that the world, including you, was his playground. The kind that made your blood pressure spike and your temper flare in an instant.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you glared at him, eyes narrowing into a scowl that you hoped would convey just how unimpressed you were. But if you expected him to back down, to maybe realize that he’d crossed a line, you were sorely mistaken. Gojo didn’t just take your scowl in stride—he laughed, a sound that was as easy and carefree as everything else about him. 

The laughter caught you off guard. It wasn’t mocking, but it wasn’t exactly kind either. It was the kind of laugh that made it clear he was enjoying this, enjoying you. It was like he’d found a new toy to play with, and your irritation only made it more fun for him.

“Aw, come on, don’t look at me like that.” he’d said, still chuckling. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood. We’re supposed to be having fun with this, right? No need to be so serious.”

But you were serious—deadly so. This wasn’t some lighthearted game to you; it was a competition, a test of skills and strength, something you’d been training for relentlessly. The Sister School Goodwill Event was your chance to prove yourself, to show that you weren’t just some novice from Kyoto who could be easily brushed aside. And here was Gojo Satoru, with his casual grin and infuriatingly relaxed demeanor, treating the whole thing like a joke.

Yet no matter how much you glared, or how much you tried to put him in his place with your icy demeanor, it seemed to only amuse him more. He had this way of tilting his head just so, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, as if he were daring you to say something, to try and put him in his place. But what could you say? Anything that came to mind seemed to bounce off him like water off a duck’s back. He was untouchable, not just in skill but in personality.

And that’s what really got to you. The way he seemed to glide through life without a care, untouched by the things that would have sent anyone else into a spiral of self-doubt. He was arrogant, yes, but it was the kind of arrogance that was infuriatingly earned. He knew he was good—no, he knew he was the best—and he wasn’t afraid to show it.

As the day went on, you found yourself trying not to react to his constant quips and jabs, but it was like trying to ignore a particularly persistent mosquito. The more you tried to brush him off, the more determined he seemed to get a rise out of you. And the worst part was, he was succeeding. Every time you shot him a glare or bit back a retort, he’d just laugh that infuriating laugh, as if to say, “See? I knew I’d get to you.”

It was like he could see right through you, past the carefully constructed walls you’d built to keep people at a distance. He saw how much you cared, how much you wanted to succeed, and he poked at that vulnerability with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Not because he was cruel, but because he found it entertaining.

And that’s what made him so insufferable. He wasn’t just some cocky sorcerer throwing his weight around—he was someone who enjoyed getting under your skin, who relished in the challenge of breaking down your defenses. To him, it was all a game, and you were the unwitting participant. 

Looking back now, you can almost see the moment he decided you were worth his attention. It wasn’t when you scowled at him or tried to brush off his comments; it was when he realized that no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, you couldn’t hide the way he got to you. And from that moment on, it was as if he’d made it his personal mission to see just how far he could push you.

He was everything you couldn’t stand in a person—arrogant, overconfident, and far too comfortable with himself. But even then, there was a part of you that knew there was more to him than just that. A part of you that recognized that behind the jokes and the winks, there was someone who saw the world in a way you didn’t quite understand, someone who, for better or worse, was going to be a part of your life whether you liked it or not.

That was the beginning of your tumultuous relationship with Gojo. Every interaction since then had been a battle of wits, with him always managing to get the upper hand, no matter how hard you tried to stay one step ahead. He was insufferable, and yet… you can’t stop thinking about him.

You remember how Gojo had effortlessly dodged your attacks during that time. He was skilled and perceptive. It wasn’t just that he was fast—he moved with a fluidity that made it seem as though he was dancing rather than fighting.

Each time you lunged at him, he sidestepped or spun away with an ease that was almost maddening. His grin never faltered, never wavered. It was as if he were enjoying the entire spectacle, completely unfazed by your every attempt to land a hit.

“Come on, is that the best you’ve got?” he’d taunted, his voice carrying a casual amusement that only fueled your frustration.

The way he said it, so nonchalant and dismissive, made it clear he wasn’t just teasing—you were genuinely failing to impress him. It wasn’t just a challenge to him; it was a game. And for someone like Gojo, who seemed to have everything handed to him on a silver platter, the stakes felt almost trivial.

What made it even more infuriating was the way he seemed to almost predict your every move. No matter how you changed your strategy, how you tried to outthink him, he was always one step ahead. It was as if he had a sixth sense for reading your intentions, a talent that made him appear almost supernatural. Every dodge, every counter, was executed with a precision that left no room for error.

In that moment, it felt as though the fight wasn’t just about physical skill—it was a battle of wills. You were pouring everything you had into trying to best him, to prove that you were more than just a novice from Kyoto. But Gojo’s demeanor, his seemingly effortless ability to avoid and counter your attacks, made it feel as though you were trying to fight against an immovable force.

It wasn’t just that he was good; it was the way he made it look so easy. It was like watching someone play a video game on the easiest difficulty setting while you were struggling on the hardest. His ease in the face of your best efforts was both impressive and infuriating. It was clear he was toying with you, not out of malice but because he genuinely enjoyed the challenge, however mild it might have been for him.

Every time you threw a punch or unleashed a spell, his reaction was a mix of amusement and mild surprise. It wasn’t as if he underestimated you—he knew exactly what you were capable of, and he relished the chance to outmaneuver you. His grin was a constant reminder that he was having fun, that he wasn’t taking this seriously because he didn’t have to. For him, it was all just another day, another opportunity to show off his skills.

“You’re strong!” He tells you with a grin on his face. “Let’s be friends! Give me your phone number, quick!”

"Huh?"

"Hurry, bring out your flip phone already!"

"We're in the middle of a one on one, you idiot!"

"So? I wanna be your friend!"

And that was what made him so exasperating. The whole event felt like it was being played out on his terms, with him in control of every aspect. To him, it was less about proving himself and more about showing just how superior he was in a way that made it almost seem effortless. The arrogance wasn’t just in his words; it was in every action, every movement that demonstrated his dominance.

For you, the fight was a matter of pride, a chance to show that you were more than capable, that you could stand toe-to-toe with someone of his caliber. But every time you saw that grin, every time you heard that taunting voice, it drove home the fact that no matter what you did, you were always going to be playing catch-up. And the more you tried, the more it seemed like you were just feeding into his amusement.

The whole experience left you feeling both frustrated and oddly impressed. Frustrated because you couldn’t seem to catch him, no matter how hard you tried. Impressed because, despite your annoyance, you couldn’t help but admire his skill and confidence. It was a bittersweet combination of emotions, one that made you both present and respect him in equal measure. And as much as you wanted to forget that day, Gojo’s presence in your mind remained an ever-present reminder of the challenge he represented—and the way he seemed to effortlessly stay one step ahead.

But what bothers you the most is how, despite all of his flaws, there’s something about him that draws you in. No matter how hard you try to deny it, those memories of him, those moments where he’d flash you that grin or make a ridiculous joke, are seared into your mind.

You find yourself remembering the smallest details—the way his voice sounded when he teased you, the warmth of his hand when he’d casually patted your shoulder after a mission, the way his eyes, hidden behind those sunglasses, seemed to see right through you.

It’s maddening because you’ve spent so much time trying to forget, trying to focus on anything but him. But no matter what you do, the memories remain, vivid and persistent. And it leaves you wondering, despite everything, why you can’t just let go. Why, after all this time, you’re still thinking about Gojo Satoru.

Back then, when you first met Gojo Satoru during the Sister School Goodwill Event, you had quickly dismissed him as just another arrogant brat who seemed to have the world handed to him on a silver platter. His cocky attitude, the way he flaunted his abilities, and his effortless charm made it all too easy to write him off.

To you, he was nothing more than a figure of annoyance—a sorcerer who, with his overconfidence and privileged position, would never be someone you’d get along with. It seemed clear from the start that your paths would never truly align.

Fast forward to the summer break of that year, and you find yourself face-to-face with him again. The sun blazes overhead, turning every outdoor spot into a sweltering inferno.

You're trying to navigate the heat while staying cool, but Gojo Satoru appears as if the oppressive temperature doesn’t affect him at all. His white hair seems to shimmer in the sunlight, and he’s wearing his trademark sunglasses, the kind that makes him look perpetually unbothered.

You’re waiting in line at a smoothie stand, desperately trying to cool down with a cone in hand. You were fanning yourself, trying to evade the intensity of the strong Kyoto sun. That’s when he shows up, casually strolling towards you with that infuriating smirk plastered on his face.

“Hey there, struggling to beat the heat?” Gojo calls out, his tone light and teasing. 

You roll your eyes, not in the mood for his games. “It’s scorching out here, Gojo. Not exactly the time for you to be playing your little tricks.”

“Oh, come on,” he says, leaning against the counter with an exaggerated sigh. “I’m just here to offer some company. Can’t have you melting away all alone, can I?”

You try to ignore him, focusing on your drink as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. “I’m fine. Really.”

But Gojo isn’t deterred. He follows you as you leave the stand, his presence like an unwelcome shadow. “So, where are you headed next? I hear there’s a nice little café down the street. We could cool off there.”

“I’m not interested, Gojo.” you snap, quickening your pace.

“Are you sure?” he persists, easily matching your stride. “It’s not every day you get to hang out with the strongest sorcerer in town. I promise I won’t bite.”

You shoot him a skeptical glance. “You’re really not going to give up, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he grins. “You look like you could use a break, and I could use some company. Besides, I’m a great conversationalist. You might even enjoy it.”

Despite yourself, you find his persistence a bit endearing. You sigh, finally relenting. “Fine. One quick stop at the café, and then you leave me alone.”

“Deal!” Gojo exclaims, his grin widening. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

At the café, as you sit across from him, the air conditioning feels like a blessing. Gojo Satoru is still as relaxed as ever, leaning back in his chair with that same self-assured smirk. “See? Much better, right?”

You can’t help but smile a little. “Yeah, this is definitely better. But don’t think this means I’m going to start liking you or anything.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, captain!” Gojo says, his tone playful. “I’m just here to make sure you’re not melting away into a puddle of frustration.”

As the conversation flows, his teasing starts to feel less like an annoyance and more like genuine fun. He talks about his latest adventures, exaggerates stories in his usual dramatic fashion, and even shares some surprisingly insightful observations about the work you both do. Somehow, he manages to not get on your nerves today.

“You know,” he says between bites of his own ice cream, “for someone who hates me so much, you sure seem to enjoy spending time with me right now.”

You snicker, shaking your head. “I don’t know about that. I think I’m just making the best of a bad situation.”

“Well, I’d like to think it’s more than that.” Gojo says with a wink. “Maybe you’re starting to see that I’m not just a cocky brat. Maybe I’m actually kind of fun.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Gojo.” you warn, though you’re smiling. “This doesn’t change anything. I still think you’re incredibly annoying.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.” Gojo chuckles. “But I’ll take that as a win for now. Maybe one day, I’ll get you to admit that I’m not so bad after all.”

As you finish up your meal, you reflect on how different this encounter is from your first meeting. The arrogance is still there, but it’s mixed with a kind of charm that’s hard to ignore. Despite yourself, you find that you’re enjoying his company, and maybe, just maybe, there’s more to him than the cocky façade he puts on.

By the end of the day, as you part ways, you can’t shake the feeling that this summer break—this unexpected reunion—might just be the start of something different. Gojo’s persistence has managed to chip away at your defenses, and you’re left wondering if there’s more to this irritating sorcerer than meets the eye.

You tell yourself he’s still as annoying as ever, but your heart betrays you, pounding in your chest whenever he’s near. You don’t understand why, but you can't help but feel drawn to him. Every time you think of how he made you laugh when you least expected it, or how his confidence seemed to shield you from the world, your feelings get more confusing.

Is it possible that the guy who irritates you so much is the same one who’s now making your heart race? You can’t figure it out, but one thing’s for sure—something has changed, and you can’t ignore it anymore. You try to shake it off, convincing yourself it’s just the heat messing with your mind. After all, why would you like someone like Gojo Satoru? 

He’s arrogant, overconfident, and never takes anything seriously. But then, you remember how, during that first encounter, he didn’t just laugh at you—he noticed things. Little things. Like how you tried to stay strong even when you were clearly out of your comfort zone, or how you struggled to keep up with the fast pace of the event but never gave up.

You tell yourself it’s nothing, that he’s just good at reading people. Yet, the memory of his voice, the way he looked at you with those sharp eyes hidden behind his glasses, keeps replaying in your mind. The more you think about it, the harder it becomes to deny what you’re feeling.

It’s frustrating. You’re not supposed to like someone who drives you crazy, who makes you question everything about yourself. But here you are, your heart beating faster every time you think of him, and that infuriating smirk of his. Why did he have to be so… so irritatingly charming?

You find yourself wondering what it would be like to see him again, to have him tease you just so you can feel that strange flutter in your chest. But then, you immediately scold yourself for even thinking that way. There’s no way you could actually like him… right?

But deep down, you know the truth. No matter how much you try to deny it, the thought of Gojo Satoru won’t leave your mind. And with each passing day, the line between irritation and affection blurs just a little bit more. Yet you can’t do much about it. One way or another, somehow—you were just stuck with him being around. In Kyoto or Tokyo, or everywhere else. He’s just somehow always round. 

Months passed by, and it was summer again.

You’re sitting with Shoko Ieiri under the shade of a tree, fanning yourself with a hand to combat the relentless summer heat. It’s one of those rare, blissful afternoons where you’ve managed to carve out some free time. With Utahime-senpai occupied with a mission from Gakuganji and no assignments on your plate, you decided to take advantage of the break to catch up with Shoko. The two of you have become quite good friends over time, and her presence is a welcome relief from the sweltering heat. And you think that even under this hot summer this year, you’ll end up becoming better friends.

Shoko leans back against the tree, her posture relaxed as she takes a sip from her drink. She listens with a wry smile as you continue your tirade. You’ve been going on about Gojo Satoru for what feels like hours now, pouring out your frustrations about how annoying and insufferable he is.

“You wouldn’t believe it, Shoko. He just—ugh! He keeps showing up everywhere I go! It’s like he has a personal vendetta to make my life miserable.”

Shoko raises an eyebrow, her smile barely containing the amusement she’s clearly feeling. “And yet, you don’t seem to be able to stop talking about him.”

“That’s because he’s impossible to ignore!” you exclaim, waving your fan more vigorously. “He’s always so… so smug! Always grinning like he’s got some big secret. I can’t stand it!”

Shoko chuckles, taking another sip of her drink. “You know, the way you’re describing him, it almost sounds like you’ve got a bit of a crush.”

You nearly choke on your own breath. “A crush? Are you kidding me? I can’t stand him! He’s arrogant and insufferable. There’s no way I’d ever—”

Shoko cuts you off with a knowing look. “Oh, come on. It’s perfectly normal to be irritated by someone you’re secretly interested in. You’re practically obsessed with him.”

“I am not!” you insist, your face turning a shade redder as you realize how ridiculous you must sound. “I’m just... venting! He’s always there, poking at my patience, and it drives me insane!”

“Uh-huh.” Shoko says, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “And yet, you’ve been ranting about him for an hour now. You don’t do that with just anyone.”

You huff, crossing your arms defensively. “That’s because he’s a special kind of irritating. There’s nothing romantic about it, Shoko. It’s purely aggravation!”

Shoko leans in, her expression teasing. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say. But if you don’t want to talk about Gojo, maybe we should switch topics.”

Before you can respond, a familiar voice calls out from behind you. “Hey, I didn’t realize I’d find you here.”

You turn to see Gojo Satoru standing a few feet away, his sunglasses reflecting the sunlight in a way that makes him look even more infuriatingly cool. Beside him was Geto Suguru, who had a face that reflected yours. He was, you supposed, as done as you were with the man with bright cerulean eyes. You purse your lips. He’s grinning, that same smirk plastered across his face as he casually approaches.

“What are you doing here?” you demand, trying to keep your irritation in check. “This is a private conversation, Gojo. Leave us alone.”

“Yeah, Satoru.” Geto parrotted back, his hands in his pockets. “Leave them alone!”

Gojo just laughs, seemingly unfazed. “How cold! I was just passing by and thought I’d say hello. But it seems like I’m interrupting something. Were you talking about me?”

Shoko suppresses a grin behind her drink as you try to regain your composure. “No, we were just—”

As Gojo stands there, still grinning, Shoko decides to have a little fun. She leans in, looking as though she’s about to share a juicy secret. “Actually, I was just telling her how annoying you are,” she interjects with a playful nudge. “In detail too. Nothing was held back.”

Gojo’s smirk only widens, clearly amused by Shoko’s teasing. Before he can respond, Geto Suguru—who has been hovering just out of sight—steps into view. He’s carrying a large bag of sweets and looks somewhat frazzled, his usual cool demeanor slightly ruffled. He looked so worn out, you think. Much too much heat and Gojo, you feel for the guy.

“Honestly, you should have called me. Geto says with a grin, eyeing both you and Shoko. “I have a lot more to share about this freak.”

You turn to Geto, eyes wide in surprise. “What did you just call him?”

“HUH!? Suguboo, how dare you call me a freak?” Gojo’s voice rises in mock outrage, his face turning into an exaggerated scowl.

Geto rolls his eyes, clearly unbothered by Gojo’s antics. “You dragged me around Tokyo to buy sweets all day. I can’t feel my body anymore.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his expression one of mild exasperation. “You’re currently not on my good side.”

Gojo throws a hand up in dramatic defense. “Hey, I had to make sure you didn’t miss out on the best sweets Tokyo has to offer! It’s not my fault if you overindulge.”

Geto shakes his head, still grumbling. “I’m pretty sure it was more than just overindulgence. I was about ready to collapse by the end of it.”

Shoko laughs, thoroughly enjoying the banter. “See, you’re not the only one who has complaints about Gojo. Even Geto here has his grievances.”

You look from Shoko to Gojo and then to Geto, feeling a mix of amusement and relief. The dynamic between the three of them is light and playful, and it’s clear that there’s a strong sense of camaraderie, despite the occasional grumbling.

“Well, it’s nice to know I’m not alone in my irritation,” you say, letting out a small chuckle.

Gojo’s grin turns into a more genuine smile as he turns to you. “Hey, don’t be too hard on me. If I’m really that annoying, at least I’m entertaining.”

Geto snorts, clearly unimpressed. “Entertaining or not, you owe me for today. We’re going to need a serious dessert break after all that.”

You nod in agreement, feeling more at ease with the situation. “Agreed. And Gojo, don’t think you’re off the hook just because you showed up here. I’m still not happy about you popping up everywhere I go. You’re so annoying!”

Gojo raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Annoying, huh? Well, I guess that’s one way to describe me. But if I’m annoying, why do you keep bringing me up?”

You groan, feeling the heat on your face increase, whether from the sun or from embarrassment you can’t tell. You didn’t want to know.  “Oh, just go away. We were having a perfectly nice conversation before you showed up.”

Gojo chuckles and leans casually against the tree. “Well, I was hoping you might invite me to join you. But if I’m that annoying, I guess I’ll just have to prove I’m not.”

Shoko looks between you and Gojo, clearly enjoying the scene. “You know, it’s kind of nice to see you two together. It’s like watching a rom–com soap opera, but with crazy strong superpowers.”

You shoot Shoko a mock glare, though it's clear you’re not truly upset. The corners of your mouth twitch into a smile despite your best efforts to look annoyed. “Thanks for your support, Shoko.”

Suguru Geto, still holding the bag of sweets, grins broadly. “Shoko, you and your talent for fueling fires. I swear, you live for this kind of chaos.”

Shoko, not missing a beat, gives an exaggerated bow. “Anytime, folks. I’m here for your entertainment. It’s my specialty, after all.”

Geto chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m starting to think you enjoy stirring up trouble more than actually helping out.”

“Maybe,” Shoko admits with a playful glint in her eye. “But where’s the fun in being boring?”

You can’t help but laugh at the exchange. It’s moments like these, filled with light-hearted teasing and genuine friendship, that make summer breaks so enjoyable. The heat of the day, the annoyances of the past, and even the unexpected encounters with Gojo seem to fade into the background as you relax with friends who make even the most mundane moments entertaining.

“Well…..” you say, still smiling, “if I have to deal with more of Gojo’s antics, I’m glad I have you two around. It definitely makes the experience more bearable.”

Shoko grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “We aim to please. Just remember, if Gojo starts getting on your nerves again, you know where to find us.”

“Absolutely.” Geto adds, lifting the bag of sweets in a mock salute. “And if you need more sweets to get through it, I’ll be your guy. Though, I can’t promise I won’t complain about it.”

“Oh, Suguru! There’s a Digimon-themed café nearby!” Gojo exclaims, excitement clear in his voice as he checks his flip phone. His eyes are practically sparkling with enthusiasm as he waves the phone in front of Suguru and you.

Suguru Geto, clearly exhausted from the earlier sweet spree and the relentless summer heat, groans. “Hehhhh, I don’t wanna go anymore, Satoru. I’m tired.”

Gojo, however, is undeterred by Suguru’s reluctance. He leans in, practically vibrating with eagerness. “Suguru, please! You can sit down throughout while I do my thing. They have card trades going on there right now! You know how rare those are.”

Suguru looks at Gojo with a mix of amusement and frustration. “Card trades? Really? Is that what’s got you so worked up?”

“Yes!” Gojo says, his voice rising with a mixture of pleading and excitement. “I’ve been looking for a specific card for ages. This is my chance!”

You watch the interaction with a smirk, enjoying the dynamic between the two. Suguru’s exhaustion is palpable, but Gojo’s enthusiasm is infectious. It’s clear that Gojo is determined to drag Suguru along, no matter how tired he is.

“Come on, Suguru!” Gojo continues, his tone softening as he tries to appeal to Suguru’s better nature. “Just a little while. You can rest while I geek out over the Digimon stuff. And there’s bound to be something good for you too, right? Maybe a nice, cool drink or something.”

Suguru sighs, clearly defeated but not entirely unmoved. “Alright, alright. But if this turns into another full day of Gojo dragging me around, I swear I’m going to collapse.”

“Deal!” Gojo says, beaming with satisfaction. “I promise we’ll keep it short. Just a quick visit, then we can head back. I owe you one, for real.”

Shoko could only sigh as though this is the hundredth time today. “Looks like we’re going to a cafe.”

“How do you deal with this everyday, Shoko?”

She shakes her head. “Believe me, you do not wanna know.”

As the four of you make your way to the café, you can’t help but chuckle at the contrast between Gojo’s boundless energy and Suguru’s weary resignation. It’s moments like these that highlight the unique blend of personalities and friendships that make summer days so memorable.

When you finally arrive at the Digimon-themed café, the atmosphere is lively, with colorful decorations and enthusiastic fans trading cards and chatting about their favorite characters. Gojo is immediately in his element, diving into the card trades with a fervor that makes you smile. 

Suguru, though still looking a bit tired, finds a comfortable spot to sit and relax, occasionally glancing over at Gojo with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. Shojo sat beside you, sipping her cold peach iced tea. For a moment, the three of you look at Gojo and think he seems almost like a child.

“You’re a trooper, you know that?” you say, handing him a cool drink you picked up from the café. “I don’t know what I would do if Kusakabe dragged me half across town for a Digimon card.”

Suguru takes a sip and smirks. “Yeah, well, it’s not every day you get to see Gojo this excited. I guess it’s worth it. Plus, more excitement for him means he’ll be less active at the dorms tonight and not bother me.”

“That….” You paused. “So he runs out of energy too, huh?”

Suguru nodded. “Well, Satoru is a human being too. He gets tired too.”

“I think I like this version of him better.”

Shoko snickers. “You sure you don’t like him?”

“Now, now. Don’t scare them away, Sho.” Suguru smiles back at his friend. “If anything, they might be the last shot for Satoru to be a human being. After all, love makes one completely human.”

“B–but that’s not….. I don’t like him like that! He’s annoying and I just….”

“Denial that sounds like absolute lies is wasting Mother Earth’s air, you know?”

You shoot Shoko a playful glare, but your frustration is tempered by an internal chaos that’s increasingly difficult to ignore. Gojo, completely absorbed in his Digimon card quest, is a whirlwind of excitement and enthusiasm. His eyes are locked on the card he’s been wanting, and the moment he finally acquires it, his face lights up with an infectious joy that makes it hard for you to look away.

As Gojo gushes over the card and exchanges high-fives with fellow fans, you’re left sitting at the table with Shoko, trying to make sense of your own turbulent emotions. Your mind feels like a jumbled mess, caught between irritation and a confusing, unwelcome admiration. The way Gojo’s energy radiates around him, how his excitement seems to draw everyone in, including you—it’s all so bewildering.

Every time Gojo moves closer, whether he’s showing off his latest acquisition or simply passing by with that characteristic, carefree swagger, your heart races a little faster. It’s a reaction you can’t quite explain, and no matter how much you want to deny it, it’s becoming increasingly clear that you’re affected by him more than you’d like to admit.

You glance over at Shoko, who’s watching the scene with an amused expression. “How does he do it?” you ask, more to yourself than to her. “How does he make everything seem so... effortless?”

Shoko’s eyes sparkle with mischief as she leans back in her chair. “Oh, come on. You know exactly how he does it. It’s the same way he manages to get under your skin so easily.”

You try to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the way he gets so wrapped up in things. It’s like nothing else matters to him.”

Shoko chuckles softly. “It’s his passion. It’s what makes him who he is. And it’s probably why you can’t seem to get him out of your mind, even when you try.”

You groan, running a hand through your hair in exasperation. “I don’t know what’s going on with me. I thought I had him all figured out, but every time he’s near, it’s like everything I thought I knew just... unravels.”

Shoko’s grin widens as she takes a sip from her drink. “Sounds like you’re having a hard time sticking to your own rules. Maybe you’re just more affected by him than you want to admit.”

You shoot her another glare, but this time it’s softer, tinged with resignation. “Yeah, well, thanks for pointing that out. I really needed the reminder.”

As Gojo returns to your table, holding up his prized card with a triumphant grin, your heart skips a beat. His enthusiasm is undeniable, and despite your internal struggle, you can’t help but be drawn to his infectious energy. He flashes a quick, radiant smile in your direction before turning his attention to Suguru, who’s still looking somewhat worn out but is clearly amused by Gojo’s excitement.

“Look what I got!” Gojo announces, waving the card in front of Suguru and you. “It’s the one I’ve been searching for!”

You try to muster up a response, but the sight of Gojo’s unabashed joy and the warmth of his smile make it difficult to focus on anything else. Your heart continues to beat faster, and despite your best efforts to keep your feelings in check, it’s becoming increasingly clear that Gojo’s presence has a profound effect on you.

Shoko leans in closer, her voice a soft tease. “Looks like you’re in for an interesting summer. Who knows? Maybe there’s more to this adventure than just the heat.”

You let out a soft sigh, feeling a mix of frustration and acceptance. As Gojo continues to share his excitement with Suguru and the other café patrons, you find yourself caught up in the moment, realizing that no matter how much you try to resist it, Gojo Satoru is undeniably a part of your world now—one you can’t seem to escape, no matter how hard you try.

“I’m craving some ice cream, it’s still too hot.” You muttered under your breath towards Shoko. “I’m going to go and buy some.”

“You want me to go with you?” Shoko asked, looking up towards you. 

You shake your head. “I’ll need some time to think for a bit. Besides, it's just around the corner.”

She nodded back at you. “Okay, then call us when you come back. Gojo might be here a while, the nerd he is.”

“Sure.” You managed to mutter as you walked off.

It didn’t take you long to get to the ice cream store. You settle into a corner booth, hoping the relative solitude will give you a chance to cool down both physically and mentally. The air conditioning provides a much-needed respite from the relentless summer heat, and the cold, creamy sweetness of your ice cream is a soothing balm for your frayed nerves.

Despite the comfort of the cool air and the calming effect of the ice cream, your mind refuses to be at peace. It keeps drifting back to Gojo Satoru—his teasing words, that infuriating grin, and the effortless way he seemed to handle everything while you were left feeling like a tangled mess of frustration and confusion. You replay the scene in your head over and over, each replay adding another layer to your mounting exasperation.

You stab your spoon into the ice cream with a little more force than necessary, your frustration spilling over into the simple act of eating. The satisfying crunch of the spoon hitting the ice cream echoes your internal struggle. You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't notice the door of the shop opening until a familiar voice breaks the silence.

“There you are.”

You freeze, spoon halfway to your mouth. Slowly, you look up to see Gojo Satoru standing in the doorway, his tall frame casting a shadow over your table. He’s got that same easygoing smile on his face, but there’s something different about his expression—something softer, almost hesitant.

“Where’s Suguru and Shoko?”

“They wanted to stay behind to rest up.”

“....Makes sense. You drained them up from energy.”

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, not waiting for an answer as he steps inside and takes a seat next to you at the small table.

You can’t help but feel a surge of panic mixed with irritation as you watch Gojo settle into the seat next to you. Of all the places in the city, why did he have to find you here, in this tiny ice cream store where you’d sought refuge from the chaos of the day? The familiar flutter in your chest is back, and despite your efforts to remain calm, your heart races as he sits down across from you.

Gojo’s presence feels overwhelming, and the proximity only amplifies your confusion. You can’t seem to reconcile the image of him as the carefree, teasing troublemaker with the more subdued, almost earnest expression he wore earlier. The combination of his unexpected arrival and the emotional turmoil from the day makes it hard to focus on anything else.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The only sounds filling the space are the steady hum of the air conditioner and the occasional clink of your spoon against the bowl of melting ice cream. It’s a stark contrast to the earlier energy of the café and the animated conversations you’d been a part of. Now, the silence feels almost oppressive, adding weight to the tension hanging between you.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, trying to focus on the ice cream, but the act of eating feels mechanical, a mere distraction from the growing unease. Each clink of your spoon against the bowl seems louder than it should be, amplifying the silence and making it harder to ignore the pounding of your heart.

Gojo, seemingly unfazed by the silence, takes a casual sip from his own ice cream. His relaxed demeanor is in sharp contrast to your internal turmoil, and it only serves to heighten your frustration. You want to break the silence, to say something that will diffuse the tension and make sense of the situation, but the words elude you.

Finally, Gojo breaks the silence, his tone surprisingly serious. “Was it really that bad?”

You blink, confused. “What… what do you mean?”

He leans back slightly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that catches you off guard. “That I like you. Was it really that bad to hear?”

“......I’m sorry, what?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you suddenly feel the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all. But the words won’t come out. Instead, you’re left staring at him, wide-eyed and completely at a loss for what to say.

Gojo’s expression softens, and he gives you a small, almost shy smile. “I’m not the best at being subtle, I know. But I meant it. I like you.”

Your heart skips a beat, and in your shock, you try to respond—but instead of words, all that comes out is a choked gasp as you accidentally inhale a spoonful of ice cream.You start coughing, the cold dessert lodged in your throat as you struggle to catch your breath. Gojo’s eyes widen in alarm, and he quickly reaches over to pat your back, trying to help you out. 

“Hey, hey, easy! Are you okay?”

You manage to swallow the ice cream, though your throat still feels cold and tight. Your face is burning with embarrassment, and you can barely bring yourself to look at him. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine… I just… you just…”

Gojo lets out a relieved laugh, though there’s a hint of concern in his eyes. “Sorry, didn’t mean to shock you that much. I guess I should’ve picked a better time to say it, huh?”

You don’t know how to respond. Your mind is a whirlwind of emotions—confusion, disbelief, and something else you can’t quite identify. The fact that he just confessed, out of nowhere, is overwhelming, to say the least. He waits for you to say something, his usual playful demeanor tempered with genuine concern. 

“I’m serious, though. I know I tease you a lot, but that’s just because I like being around you. You’re fun, and… well, I like you.”

You feel your heart pounding again, and you’re not sure if it’s because of his words or the way he’s looking at you. It’s different from his usual teasing gaze—there’s a sincerity in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.

“I…” You struggle to find the right words, but nothing comes out the way you want it to. “I don’t know what to say.”

He smiles, that playful edge returning just a bit. “You don’t have to say anything right now. I just wanted you to know how I feel. But… if it’s too much, I’ll back off.”

You shake your head, feeling a mix of emotions too tangled to sort out. “No, it’s just… I wasn’t expecting this. At all.”

Gojo’s smile softens, and he reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. “It’s okay. We don’t have to figure it all out right now, okay?”

You nod slowly, your mind still reeling from everything that’s happened. As he sits there beside you, holding your hand in his, you realize that despite all the teasing and frustration, there’s something undeniably real about the way he’s looking at you now. Maybe, just maybe, this summer heat isn’t the only thing making your heart race.

Gojo’s hand is warm against yours, and the feeling sends a flurry of butterflies through your stomach. He’s still looking at you with that playful grin, but there’s a tenderness in his gaze that makes your heart flutter.

“Sorry for springing this on you out of nowhere.” he says, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. “But I couldn’t help it. Seeing you all flustered and cute earlier… I just had to tell you how I feel.”

You glance down at your hands, trying to process everything, but all you can focus on is the way his fingers are interlaced with yours. It’s surprisingly comforting, and you find yourself feeling a little less overwhelmed by the situation.

Gojo leans in a bit closer, his voice dropping to a soft, teasing tone. “You know, you’re even cuter when you’re flustered. I might have to make it my mission to see that expression on your face more often.”

You feel your cheeks heat up again, and you instinctively try to pull your hand away, but Gojo holds on gently, his smile widening. “No escaping this time. You’ve caught my attention, okay?  I’m not letting go so easily.”

You huff, trying to sound annoyed, but it comes out more flustered than anything. “You’re such a pain, Gojo.”

“Ah, but I’m your pain, right?” he quips back, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “I never said that.”

“Well, I’m saying it." he replies, leaning in even closer until you can feel his breath against your cheek. “And I think you secretly like having me around, even if you won’t admit it.”

You’re about to protest, but the words catch in your throat when you see how close he is. His face is only inches from yours, and the playful grin has softened into something more sincere.

“I like being around you, you know?” he murmurs, his voice gentle. “Even if I drive you crazy sometimes.”

You swallow hard, your heart thudding in your chest. There’s something incredibly endearing about seeing Gojo like this—still teasing, but with a softness that makes your heart melt.He pulls back just enough to give you a bit of space, his expression turning thoughtful.

 “You know, I’ve had a lot of people in my life, but no one’s ever made me feel the way you do. It’s different with you… in a good way.”

You blink, taken aback by the honesty in his words. “Really?”

“Really.” he says, his smile warm and genuine. “You’re special to me. And I don’t want to let go of something that feels this right.”

Your heart swells at his words, and for a moment, you forget all the teasing and frustration. All you can think about is how sincere he’s being, how much he actually cares.

Gojo must notice your softened expression because he chuckles lightly, his eyes twinkling. “Now, I know this is a lot to take in, but… would you mind if I tried something?”

You tilt your head, curious. “What?”

Instead of answering right away, he reaches out with his free hand, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is featherlight, almost hesitant, as if he’s waiting for your reaction. When you don’t pull away, he smiles softly and leans in closer.

“Just wanted to see if you’d let me do this.” he whispers, and before you can respond, he presses a quick, gentle kiss to your forehead.

The contact is brief, but it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. You stare at him, wide-eyed and speechless, while he pulls back, looking pleased with himself “There,” he says with a grin. “Now you can’t say I don’t have feelings for you.”

You finally find your voice, though it comes out more like a squeak. “Y-You… Gojo!”

He laughs, not at all fazed by your reaction. “What? Too much? I thought it was pretty sweet.”

You bury your face in your hands, trying to hide the furious blush spreading across your cheeks. “You’re impossible!”

Gojo just chuckles and gently pries your hands away from your face, forcing you to look at him again. “I might be impossible, but you’re stuck with me now. So… what do you say? Think you could handle having someone like me around a little more?”

You glance at him, and despite your embarrassment, you can’t help but smile. “You’re not going to give me much of a choice, are you?”

“Not really.” he admits, his grin turning playful again. “But I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

You sigh, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. Instead, there’s a warmth spreading through your chest that you can’t ignore. “Fine,” you say, pretending to be reluctant. “But if you keep teasing me like this, I’m going to get back at you.”

Gojo’s eyes light up, and he leans in with a smirk. “Oh, I’m looking forward to that. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

And just like that, the tension melts away, leaving you with a strange sense of contentment. You don’t have everything figured out yet, but with Gojo sitting beside you, still holding your hand, you think maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t mind figuring it out together.

[jeonsweetpea]

Will It Fit? (Teaser) - NOW OUT

Roommate!AU | Roommate!Jungkook x Reader

genre: fluff, smut, comedy, lil angst, slight idiots to lovers

rating: explicit

description: So what if your roommate caught you masturbating? At least he forgot about it the next day. But he can’t exactly forget the big dildo you left in your shared bathroom…

word count: tbd (currently at 5k)

warnings: size kink, JK has a big dick (no, really), slight pain kink, light choking, dirty talk, Dom!JK, flustered/shy JK at first, unprotected sex (this is fiction, we all wanna be raw-dogged by JK okay), lube, JK loves OC’s panties a LOT, fingering, mentions of masturbation, OC gets embarrassed at first but JK is sweet about it, oral sex (male & female receiving), cursing, Soft Dom!JK, more to come I’m sure.

a/n: As soon as I saw JK’s OJO face from that GCF, it kicked me into gear to write this. I’ve had this idea for SO long, but never had the motivation to finish it. I was supposed to release it last winter, so hope you’re all excited for it! 

*update: I have posted the full fic! Check my pinned. :)

“[Y/N], I can hear you in there.” 

The muffled, disgruntled voice came from the other side of your door. Your eyes fluttered open and your hand stilled in your panties, your heart rate spiking. Maybe if you didn’t move a muscle, he’d go away. 

“I know you’re up,” he added. You rose up from your bed.

“Um… exactly what did you hear?” you squealed, face burning up at your terrible acting skills.

“Unlock this door.”

You didn't know what compelled you to saunter over and open the door a mere crack, but oh the sight before you was almost worth the humiliation. Jungkook was in nothing but gray sweats that sat dangerously low on his hips. He had a bad case of bedhead, but his locks looked so soft that you wanted nothing more than to grab onto them and make out with his beautiful lips, which were captivating you just as much as that intense gaze of his. 

“Hey… you…” you said with a meek smile, which he did not return.

“It’s 2 AM in the morning. I have work at 5. As hot as you sound, we either do something together so we both get satisfied or you let me get my rest because I am incredibly frustrated right now.”

Your eyes widened at his curt response. You’ve never seen him so tense, his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek as his glare bore into you. He leaned against your door frame with one arm, leaning in close enough to make you break eye contact. He tapped on the wooden frame with his index finger, awaiting your response. 

“Sorry…” 

God, you sounded absolutely pathetic. 

“Is that all your pretty lips are good for? Apologizing?” Before you could respond, he let out a tsk sound and retreated back to his bedroom. You stood there in a trance until his door shut loudly, snapping you out of it. You wondered if he realized how much worse he left you than when he found you. 

Fuck, was he always this hot when mad? 

[sinofwriting]

Homecoming - Oscar Piastri/Reader/Logan Sargeant

Words: 3,290 Summary: She hasn’t seen them since April and she can only hope that they aren’t mad that she lied to them. Note(s): Thank you @casperlikej for this commission! Had a lot of fun writing it! NSFW. Takes place in 2023. Reader is in the military. Reader is an American, who also somewhat grew up in the UK, but it’s all very vague. Also, don’t surprise people in showers, injuries can and will happen. Read Part Two Here

Masterlist | Support Me! | Part of Sin's 5k & B-Day Celebration

“I’m sorry.” She apologizes. “It’s okay, baby.” Logan says. Oscar nods, but there’s worry in his eyes. “Is everything okay?” She nods, “yeah, they just gave me the wrong date. It wasn’t until I was talking to my CO about leaving that they realized. I should’ve said something sooner.” “It happens.” Oscar tells her and she can see through the computer screen the way his fingers twitch, obviously wanting to reach out, and her heart aches.

She misses them so much, both her boys. Hasn’t seen them since April when China got canceled and they both managed to get away from their teams to see her. But she hasn’t really seen them since last year, since 2022, when Oscar was just a reserve and Logan was in F2 with their weird spotty schedule. They didn’t have as many race dates or things to attend. They had spent so much time with her then.

“Do they have your next date for leave?” She shakes her head. “Not yet. I think they’re trying to figure out how they gave me the wrong date.” She shrugs. “But it could mean I get some extra time.” Oscar snorts but Logan nods. “You’ll let us know as soon as you can?” “Of course, Lo. As soon as they tell me, I’ll text you. Have a good day, though, both of you.” Both their noses wrinkle but they nod.

And with I love you’s exchanged, she hangs up, looking at the packed suitcase next to her. Hopefully they wouldn’t be too mad that she lied.

—

Being in the military wasn’t exactly something she planned on. Not as a little girl, not as a preteen and not at fifteen when she discovered she liked both her best friends.

But then she was seventeen wanting to apply to different colleges and programs and her parents had to sit down and tell her that while they had this nice house and the family home in Florida and cars and she hadn’t really wanted for anything, that was all they had. They didn’t have enough money for her to apply to three colleges, let alone the near twenty she wanted to.

It had been a fight instantly. Because she didn’t know what she wanted to do. And for the past year they had been telling her that it was okay and that she’d have college to figure that out and it had been a lie. She remembers throwing things in a bag and going to Oscar’s brand-new place, because he was already eighteen and his parents wanted him to be comfortable.

She remembers throwing herself in his arms and then Logan’s because of course Logan was also there. Remembers crying because it kind of felt like her world was ending. She remembers the way they both had soothed her, held her, let her rage and sob. She remembers the way after when she was more calmed down, the shock gone from her system, they presented a bunch of options for her.

Working with them, working for Oscar’s dad, working for Logan’s uncle, doing this in college and that, just something, anything that sounded appealing and she can remember how she shook her head after every option and how despite that they didn’t get frustrated or angry, they just said okay before offering another until they ran out of things to offer.

It was her uncle, though he wasn’t really her uncle, that told her she should think about the military. She laughed at first thinking he was joking, but he hadn’t laughed with her, instead looked at her seriously.

“You know that I served.” And she had nodded, she had faint memories of being in elementary school or even younger back in Florida and seeing him in uniform, medals and ribbons on his chest. “And you know I’ve said a lot about it. Never kept quiet.” “Rock and a hard place.” He smiled for a second at her words before looking all serious again. “Exactly. What I’m saying is, it’s an option. And nowadays, your contracts aren’t as long depending on the branch like when I enlisted and I’ve got friends.” “I don’t think I’ll like it.” He laughed at her words. “No one knows if they’ll like it until they are in it. Just think about it. It’s something and it will give you time, paid time, to figure out what you really want to do.”

And she had thought about it. She thought about the pros and the cons, how the cons outweigh the pros for her and she nearly didn’t go through with it because of Logan and Oscar. Because they just had to confess to her, tell her that they liked her, wanted to be with her and how could she not tell them the same when it was true? She couldn’t. She had nearly called it good, happy to bounce between them playing personal assistant or social media admin or something, they didn’t really know what she’d do going back and forth, but then she saw her uncle again, a week before she turned eighteen.

He hadn’t said anything, hadn’t brought it up, hadn’t even mentioned the military. But just seeing him reminded her of their conversation, of the way she spent hours upon hours after considering it.

Seeing him made her realize she had to go through with it.

She doesn’t really remember telling Logan and Oscar her decision. She remembers how they reacted, both surprised, unaware she had been considering it. Logan had been understanding, but he was from America just like her, he had family in the service. Oscar didn’t understand, couldn’t understand why. It hadn’t been a fight, not that she remembered, but she knew that her decision had nearly broken them that day.

—

“You reenlisting?” Her uncle's voice is gruff. “No, sir.” He grumbles, lips twitching into a smile. “Good. And don’t call me sir. You in reserves now?” She nods. “As of last week.” “Logan and Oscar know?” She throws him a look. “Why would you be driving me to Vegas if they knew?” He laughs. “Fair. They’re doing good, right? In their Formula One thing?” She smiles, “Yeah, they’re doing alright. Did you like COTA?” He shrugs, merging onto the freeway. “Didn’t understand it, but it was alright. Beer was overpriced.” “Always is at events.” “I remember when you could get a six-pack,” he starts and she mouths along with him, having heard this since she was ten, unable to not smile as she does so. “What?” He asks, seeing her smile. “Nothing.” She tells him. “Just happy to see you haven’t changed.”

—

Vegas is annoying, she decides as she waves her uncle off, the older man having decided to stick around and try his luck at one of the casinos. Or rather the traffic currently in Vegas is annoying.

Pulling out her phone she texts Benny letting him know that she’s at the hotel. Looking around she smiles at all the lights and people milling around. She’d give Vegas this, it was pretty cool to look at.

“Y/N!” She turns her head, smiling at Logan’s trainer. “You got here early!” He chuckles, pulling her into a hug that she returns with one arm, still having a hand on her suitcase. “We made good time. Switched off driving, so saved us a bit from having to stop really.” He pats her on the back before letting her go. “But it was good.” She nods. “All good. How are you? How are the kids?” He grins. “They’re good, amazing, really. Excited that the season is ending and I’ll be home.” “Logan was telling me that you aren’t going to be his trainer next season.” Benny sighs, looking sad as they step foot into the hotel. “The kids are getting older, I want to be there more. If there was a way I could stay on, but not have to go to all the races I would. I love the kid, he’s like one of mine.”

She looks at him considering. She’d been around Logan and Oscar for ten years now, had been around their trainers for over five years, seeing what they did had made it easy for her to choose her degree that the military paid for while she served a year after she joined.

“Maybe you could.” His eyebrow raises. “I have a degree in sports medicine.” “But you have a year left.” She shakes her head. “That last year is reserves, unless we are going to war and all the active reserves have been called, I’m not going back in.” “Logan didn’t say.” “They don’t know.” Benny makes a weird huff sound, shaking his head. “You're going to knock them off their feet this weekend.” She laughs. “Maybe. Just talk to Sarah about it first, I’ll follow you around this weekend and next and we can talk about it with Logan.” “I don’t have to talk about it with Sarah, she’d be thrilled, she wasn’t fond of the idea in the first place. And Logan…” He shakes his head. “If you think Logan won’t be jumping at the idea of having you around twenty-four seven, you’ve lost it.” “Still! Talk about it with Sarah first, just in case.”

He shakes his head, but agrees, handing her a key card as they stop in front of a hotel room door. “This is their room. Gentle with them.” “Kim ask you to relay that message as well?” “Yes.” She laughs, nodding. “I will. Promise.” He rolls his eyes, but there’s a grin on his face. “Go. I’ll see at least two of you tomorrow.” “Bye Benny. Thank you again for helping me.” “Of course.”

She watches as he walks down the hallway before taking out his own key card and entering his hotel room, just a few rooms down. Turning back to face the hotel room door, excitement starts to fill her. She was finally going to see them, be with them.

Pressing the key to the reader, she holds her breath as she waits for the door to unlock, breathes again when it does and she twists the door knob, letting herself in.

The door swings open quietly and her feet and suitcase make no noise against the carpet as she steps inside. There’s the faint sound of the shower running and music playing, and a large smile spreads across her lips. This was the routine she was used to, that hadn’t changed. Them coming back to their hotel room or when finally checking in, getting what they needed put away if they were staying long enough and then putting on some music and hopping in the shower.

The door closes with a small click as she shuts it, kicking off her shoes next to Oscar’s and Logan’s as she does. She hopes as she puts her suitcase next to Logan’s, that the shower is big enough for the three of them, but they’ve made do with some fairly small showers before.

Stepping further into the hotel room, she nearly giggles at the song playing, able to hear it clearly now with the way the bathroom door isn’t completely closed. She loves them so much.

Spotting the dirty clothes bag she bought Oscar for Christmas last year as a stock stuffer, right by the bathroom door, propped against the wall and already filled with a pair of jeans, shorts, shirts and socks, she adds her own pants, shirt, underwear and socks. A quiet sigh leaving her when she takes her bra off, which she carefully places on the back of an armchair.

The bathroom tiles are warm underneath her feet and she lets out a little oh, having expected them to be cold.

Her eyes dart to the sink where the large mirror behind is covered in steam, but her eyes quickly leave it to settle on the shower.

It’s big, maybe just big enough for the three to fit in, but she can’t focus on that because Oscar and Logan are there. She can’t see much, the glass of the shower just as covered in steam as the mirror, but she can see the shapes of their bodies, close together, holding each other as the water hits them.

Taking a deep breath, she steps towards the shower door. She shivers as her fingertips press against the glass before fingers move to open it and poking her head in, voice soft as she looks at them. “Room for one more?” She watches as they separate, Oscar turning to look at her, and they both look at her with confusion and shock, before wide smiles take over their entire faces, eyes shining with happiness.

Oscar the closer of the two reaches forward and she quickly steps in, nearly slipping in her hurry, but Oscar has an arm around her before she can, tucking her into his chest, as Logan shuffles around. The door to the shower closes with a slight noise before his arms are around her as well.

Tension immediately leaves her body at the feeling of them both, and tears start to slip from her eyes. “I missed you guys so much.” “We missed you too, baby.” “So much.” Oscar echoes, arms tightening around her before loosening and she’s being pulled away slightly. She wants to protest, but then his lips are on hers and she moans, sinking into his kiss.

“Lo,” she whines when Oscar stops kissing her, lips tingling. Oscar chuckles, the sound rich and so familiar it wants to make her cry again, but she’s being turned around and Logan is kissing her, his palms cupping her cheeks. “I missed this so much.” Logan breathes against her lips. “Missed the three of us so much.” “Never again.” She tells him, tells Oscar, tells them. “Never again. I don’t have to go back, I’m in inactive reserves and I’m not reenlisting. I’m yours, both of yours.” The words come out in a rush, nearly tripping over each other, but she can’t wait, can’t have them thinking that this will just be a short reunion before she has to leave them again. “Thank god.” Logan breathes before pressing their lips together. “Thank god.” He murmurs again when they separate before she’s turned around to face Oscar again, who practically swallows her whole.

His lips are insistent on hers as his hands clutch at her hips, fingers digging painfully and she hopes that he leaves bruises, wishes that he’d make his grip even tighter, knows he can. She tries to pull away, to ask him to, but he keeps following her lips. Like if he isn’t kissing her, she’ll disappear, so she stops trying. Lets him kiss her, moans when Logan’s lips land on her shoulder, pressing kisses that trail up to the top of it and along the shell of her ear before trailing back down.

“We,” she gasps when Oscar finally stops kissing her, though his lips instead fall to her breasts going between the two, unable to decide which one he wants to give attention to more. “We can’t do this in here.”

The next moments are a blur as they scramble out of the shower, out of the bathroom and tumble into bed, soaking the duvet, pillows, and sheets with their wet naked bodies. It’s a blur of lips on hers, on her body, of fingers pressing and pulling. She remembers clearly the first press of fingers into her body, of Oscar’s tongue laving at her, of the kiss Logan and Oscar shared between her thighs. It blurs with her first and second orgasm.

She remembers clearly as well, the first sink of Oscar’s cock into her, her back to his chest as he laid down, the way he pressed all the way into her, not letting her adjust. She doesn’t remember the apparent fumble for lube or the first two fingers that Logan had carefully sunk into her alongside Oscar’s cock. She remembers the stretch of his three fingers and Oscar’s cock, and finally the stretch of him sinking into her as well. The near painful stretch of having both of them inside her at the same time, in the same hole.

Her mind is still blurry, still coming down from pleasure when they finally break the silence of just trying to catch their breaths and music still playing from the bathroom.

“That was so good.” She makes a small noise in agreement. “You felt so good.” Oscar says, kissing her shoulder and she shudders at the feeling. “You both did.” And she can hear the sound of Oscar kissing Logan. “Logan’s gonna hold you now, okay.” Oscar tells her as she still lays somewhat on top of him. “Both of your legs are shaking.” That makes her blink and look down, swallowing hard because she hadn’t even realized hers were shaking. “And I need to clean you up and get some water for all us, okay?” She nods.

Despite him telling her that, she still nearly whines when he moves out from under her, but he quickly pushes her into Logan’s arms who eagerly holds her close. She hadn’t seen if his legs were shaking as well like Oscar said, but she doubts it with the way Logan manages to turn her around in his arms and pull her so she’s on top of him, her breasts pressed against his chest just the way he likes.

“Love you so much, baby.” Logan murmurs into her hair. “You were so good for us. Just fell apart over and over again. Gave us five orgasms.” She makes a surprised sound. That didn’t sound right. “A whole five, baby. It was fucking amazing.” She nuzzles into his neck and he continues speaking, knowing the sound and feeling is soothing.

He stops when Oscar comes back, making a tutting noise at how they are positioned which makes her mumble Logan’s name and Oscar runs a hand down her calf.

“I know, darling. You’re alright. You though,” and she can picture the way Oscar is looking at Logan, pointing a finger at him. “How am I supposed to clean you up?” She feels Logan shrugs as best as he can with her on top of him. “The way you usually do.” The younger makes a huffing sound but is quiet. She can feel his breath against her leg as he most likely bends.

Logan makes a small noise and she kisses his neck. “Cold?” “No, it’s warm.” He reassures her. She hums and when it’s her turn she doesn't even jolt at the feeling of the washcloth running over her most sensitive parts and her thighs. “Alright, you two, you both got to sit up to drink some water.” Oscar says, as he climbs back into bed with them. Logan grumbles and she turns her head to watch as Oscar gets comfy with his back against the headboard, three water bottles on his nightstand.

He’s still naked, probably not even thinking of pulling on underwear or sweats on and it makes her want to curl up in his lap. He seems to feel her eyes on him because he smiles, all soft, sweet, fond and he’s opening his arms and she carefully moves off Logan to do what she thought about it.

Her head rests on his shoulder, as she sits sideways on his lap, facing Logan, who watches them both with that awestruck look of his as he sits up and scoots closer until him and Oscar are sitting side by side and he can draw her feet into his lap, stilling letting her stay curled up in Oscar’s lap, but getting some contact with her.

“Love you both.” “We love you too.”

@darleneslane @copper-boom @eutrizbea @kimmib13 @elliegrey2803 @stopeatread @hiireadstuff @tallrock35

[predestinatos]

we so lowkey - OP81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader (x tiny bit of charles at the beginning)

summary: "the game is called truth or dare for a reason" | 5k words. warnings underneath. MINORS DNI.

tags: smut, sort of stoner!oscar, jealous charles to drive the plot, college student reader, dirty talking.

warnings: drugs (weed), cigarettes, (consensual) unprotected sex, backshots, a lot of dirty talking, oral (male and female receiving), double orgasm.

notes: sorry for the delay, i have been on a writing slump (ignore the fact that this is 5k words long...) and trying to enjoy my last days with my bf before he leaves on erasmus!! but i hope you guys like this one. lmk your thoughts and thank u for ur patience always!

"I am not getting drunk today" you said, putting your foot down. "I can take tipsy, but not drunk" your friend laughed at your comment but nodded in agreement, both of you acknowledging the fact that you had to calm yourselves down now that exams season approached. "It's just a small get together either way" your friend replied, shrugging. your clothes scattered across your clean room, an off-putting contrast you couldn't avoid. "You know a 'small get together' usually means at least 30 people" you applied lipstick in front of your closet mirror as you observed your friend through it. "He's here" your friend whispered as you entered the living room of the dorm room heavily decorated with alcohol and LED lights. She needn't say who she was referring to, for the name sounded forbidden yet that's what made it so enticing. grabbing yourself a drink and glancing around the room, you realized it really was a rather small group. it seemed comprised of around 20 people, the girl to boy ratio very balanced. if you didn't know better, you'd say this was planned. the first sip of alcohol touched your tongue and you swallowed happily, moving slowly to the rhythm of the music along with your friend. "Will you hate me if i leave you for a second?" she asked, lips close to your ear in nervous secrecy. you merely looked at her brown doe eyes and smiled, the best answer you could give her. You were both in college for more than grades - you were there for the full experience. the regrets, the bodies, the hands, the flirting, the waking up with a headache - it was all part of this phenomenal journey that lasted around 3 years, and you'd enjoy every single one of them. so as she left to go talk to someone, you knew you'd be fine. Of course you would, because as if he was waiting, Charles approached you, all strong perfume smell and smug attitude approaching you. "Didn't know you were coming" his eyes look down at you as he remains close but without touching you, daring you to make the first move. "Me neither, or I wouldn't have come" you spat, eyes shotting up at his, expression unchanging and unaffected, almost please with the reply. cocking his head to the side he brought his hand to your chin, stroking it softly yet teasingly. "You were never good at that when it comes to me" he said, clinking his plastic cup against yours, mocking you in a frustrating yet attractive way. you we're supposed to be having fun, fucking around and getting to know how other bodies fit in your bed, yet for the entirety of this year Charles Leclerc had been the one fulfilling that duty. It frustrated you, how you were so addicted to how he felt and made you feel, how the two of you had more than chemistry, creating friction during lectures and letting it all out during the night.

You weren’t exclusive, nor did you discuss feelings – something the both of you appreciated, since this back and forth between you two was pleasurable enough and it had absolutely zero strings attached. Breathing in deeply, you decided to simply strike him back the way you two enjoyed “what can I say, I’m a good actress.”

He exhaled through his nose with a smile that recognized your humor and your momentary win, a ‘touché’ leaving his lips in perfect French, attractive enough to make you take another sip of your drink in order to focus on something else.

Minutes pass with the music blasting and you and Charles going back and forth between dancing and teasing each other, your mutual attraction clear to everyone around. Yet, after a while, the volume lowered as someone announce “truth or dare! Everyone gather in a circle on the floor please!”

Everyone complied – easily so, given the fact that there weren’t that many people in the room, making it extra personal and giving everyone a chance to talk and meet each other, something you didn’t particularly do. After around 2 minutes, everyone sat enthusiastically, talking to each other with slightly lightheaded giddiness that only came after the right amount of drinks. To your left sat your best friend, side eyeing you disapprovingly at the person to your right – Charles. “Way to meet new people” she said, ironically. Pretending to be mad wasn’t her forte, as she laughed slightly at your predictableness and you shrugged, “c’est la vie!”  “And now you’re speak French?”

The host – a beautiful girl with the most amazing curly hair and prettiest eyes you’d ever seen, sat down and clapped her hands, an “alright!” coming out of her exhale. “We will spin this bottle twice: first chooses truth or dare, second gives the truth or dare. Be interesting, please!” she explained, causing everyone to laugh excitedly.

The bottle spun, landing on a boy who you were sure had had a thing for your friend for the longest time. “Dare” he decided as the bottle spun once again, landing on Charles. “I dare you to text ‘I miss you’ to the 6th person in your contacts” he said smuggishly. Everyone ‘oooh’ed as the boy grabbed his phone and searched for said contact. “Fuck-“ he exhaled, frustrated, “it’s my ex.” Charles merely laughed as he said “those are the rules!” nonchalantly placing a hand on your upper thigh without even a glance. Before you could ask, the boy’s voice exclaimed “done!” as he showcased his screen to everyone in a circle, the hand on your thigh disappearing as fast as it arrived.

A couple of rounds went by, you asking one person about their shittiest sexual experience and more drinks being poured as people kissed each other after being dared to, when, around the 9th time, the bottle landed on the dark brown eyed boy you and your friend always found adorable. His name was Oscar, and he usually kept to himself, coming to these get togethers and hanging out with his own friends shyly, occasionally smoking but never getting too drunk or too high. “Truth” he said, his voice deep and sweet like a caress, contrasting with the way he fidgeted nervously in his seat. For the second time, the bottle landed on Charles, who rubbed is hand in a mockingly villainous way. “Oscar… Who in this circle have you had fantasies about?”

Oscar instantaneously blushes, hand running through his hair nervously with a shy smile across his face, revealing an adorable set of teeth that made you smile as well. “Fuck’s sake…” he exhaled softly, before downing his drink quickly in order to provide him with some confidence to reply. “I’m gonna regret this” he repeats, everyone jokingly complaining about the suspense he was creating. “I’m sorry in advance, Charles” he exclaims, before his arm lifts towards you and your eyes cross. Still bushing but with a darker expression, almost as if reviewing some thoughts he had, his gaze pierced yours making you feel as if he could show you his own thoughts. Everyone ‘oooo’ed once again, clapping and drinking, despite Charles’ body tensing slightly as he said “sorry for what?”

Oscar merely shrugged, “for anything”, an apologetic smile showing up, one you couldn’t ignore.

The game lasted only a few more rounds until the small crowd distracted themselves with each other, getting up to get more drinks and not returning due to slightly drunk forgetfulness. However, even that small amount of time was enough to feel the palpable tension whenever Oscar’s eyes crossed yours, a quick glance away and joke throwing making you almost believe like you had imagined everything. His nonchalant persona combined with the knowledge that he had thought of you in other contexts drew you in, the same way your instant shyness and inability to look away only intensified his desires.

The boy next to you, however, was tenser than you had ever seen him, despite his great attempts at hiding it. Even before you could confront him about it, Charles’ excused himself, claiming that he had an exam first thing in the morning. Eyebrows furrowed, you knew that wasn’t true, but he merely kissed your cheek goodbye and closed the door behind you.

You were frustrated. In more ways than one, your body still very much coherent to take things lightly and carefree. Your leg shook up and down nervously as your best friend sat next to you in a couch, talking to an attractive girl she had her eyes on for a while. Tapping her shoulder lightly, you motioned the ‘gonna smoke’ sign with your hands, to which she smiled in recognition.

Opening the closest window to the balcony that oversaw the city, cold air hitting your lungs, you let your back hit the wall and let out a much needed breath. Grabbing a cigarette, you placed it between your lips as you searched for your lighter, the closeness of the relief imminent in your veins. The technicolor lights shone bright, cars moving like fireflies dancing to the rhythm of the song.

It was white noise that calmed you, the muffled sound of the music restarting in the house as you took more drags of your cigarette. You were so immersed in the sheer act, as if it was a meditation technique, that you barely noticed the light brown haired boy opening and closing the window, placing himself next to you, with a respectable distance between your bodies.

“Have some light?” he asked, and you jumped at the sound of his voice, the realization he was there. You nodded and handed him your lighter, and he thanked you as he lit up a perfectly wrapped blunt. “Sorry, by the way” he exhaled, along with the smoke that got out of his mouth, eyes roaming through the landscape in front.

“No problem, I get startled easily” you replied, admiring his side profile. His features were both hard and soft, eyes shining brightly in such a relaxed expression it mesmerized you, the way he let out a soft chuckle at your response. “I’m not apologizing for that,” he started, filling his lungs once again. “I’m apologizing for earlier.”

This time, he turned his head towards you, and you noticed his flushed cheeks, slight embarrassment still showing even as his body and mind relaxed. “For saying you fantasize about me or for saying sorry to Charles?” you asked, daringly. It had offended you, hurt you, even, that he had apologized to Charles as if the guy owned you, as if that answer needed to pass some sort of approval from him before becoming valid.

Oscar merely shrugged, “both, I suppose.” His eyes seemed a bit sleepier already as they rather shamelessly roamed your body, followed by his head resting against the wall as he looked up. You felt the tension, electrifying both your bodies already, shivers invading your body – maybe from the cold, maybe from the sheer presence of his indifferent frame.

“Was it true?” the question hung the air for a few seconds after it left your lips, your cigarette now almost over. “Depends on if you want it to be true or not,” a dazed giggle mixed between his words.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t” you crossed your arms in front of your chest after putting out your cigarette in the ashtray next to the balcony. His gaze turned to yours, lowering towards your chest before moving back to your eyes. “The game is called truth or dare for a reason” he answered, leaning sideways against the wall so he could look at you fully.

You rolled your eyes at his sarcasm, though you couldn’t deny how attracted you were to how he played out this nonchalant persona, the indifference contrasting with his words making your body burn.

 ��And that,” he started, the hand holding the blunt pointing towards you, in a upwards and downwards movement. “That’s exactly why I have them.” Confusion invaded your mind as you failed to understand what his words meant, although his brown eyes remained on you as if revisiting every thought he ever had. “What?”

“You’re a tease without even realizing it,” he started, closing the distance between you a bit more, eyes glued to your lips as if fighting the urge to kiss you. “Describe them for me” you whispered, using your closeness to your advantage.

“How about I show you?” he whispered back, breath hot against your ear as his index finger ran along the exposed skin of your neck. Though you tensed, feeling your entire body respond to his suggestion, mouth watering, you wanted to play a bit more.

“What about ‘sorry, Charles’?” you mouthed, irony laced all over your smirk as you looked up at him lustfully. Oscar’s gaze scans the inside of the apartment quickly, more figuratively than literally, before turning back to you. “I don’t see him here now, do you?”

His index finger brushed your chin, forcing your gaze towards yours once more. “If I were him I would’ve made sure you only craved me.”

“How?” your voice was hoarse and breathy, your thighs slowly clenching at the need for touch. “Let’s just say my name would be the only thing you’d be able to utter.”

Your eyebrows raised and your breath got stuck in your throat as his lips brushed against you. You felt almost embarrassed at the effect his words and demeanor had on you, requiring little to no touch to get a reaction out of your entire body. This was not the Oscar Piastri you knew from a couple of shared classes, who sat at the back and always left first, who remained in his own zone at parties, interacting with a couple of closest friends. The fact that he was showing a more daring, direct and sexual attitude towards you felt like a compliment, exclusivity being silently attributed to you.

“Didn’t take you for such a fuckboy” you commented, almost as if making sure that this wasn’t actual his usual move, something everybody knew but didn’t talk about, a party trick he commonly used. He chuckled slightly, so close to you that you could see his throat bobbing up and down in though and feel his scent – some very light perfume that faded slightly due to the smell of the joint he was now finishing. “And I’m not,” he smiled, “I just know what I want. And I’ve been wanting you for so fucking long…” he trailed off, his eyes scanning every inch of you with lust, dropping to your lips for a few seconds longer than anywhere else, before returning to your eyes.

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours, ravenous and hungry for you. Your hands were on his soft hair, tugging it ever so slightly as his tongue teased yours and his breathing increased. Gripping your waist, Oscar pinned you against the balcony wall, the people on the other side of it disappearing from both of your minds as soon as you touched. His kissed matched him so well – so careless yet not aggressive nor bad, just confident and slow paced, as if possessing all the time in the world to enjoy every part of you. You couldn’t help but moan at the novelty of it, how different he was, how his touch left your body burning with freezing need for more.

His lips curved into a smile upon hearing you, an aroused gleefulness displayed in between kisses, fueling an ever growing necessity inside both of you. One of his hands rose to your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek sweetly, that touch so opposite from his grip that claimed you as his for a moment.

As soon as that moment came, it went away, his face distancing from yours, one of his hands attempting to fix the mess you had made of his hair. “I need you so bad right now” he whispered, cursing to himself at the loss of composure he ensured he had built. You merely stared at his disheveled look, frustrated desire written across his body as his brown eyes seemed to darken as time went by. You did not dare to speak, afraid no words would come out, brain foggy from sharing the absolute same wish as his: to continue what you started, to finish it completely.

“My dorm room is literally right above this one” he said after a few seconds, steading his breath in order to seem calmer, more relaxed and casual about the clear tension between you. You knew what he meant and knew he wouldn’t be elaborating any further. Knew he would simply go to his room and wait, watching tv as if you showing up – or not – wouldn’t influence much of his night. Like whatever was happening wasn’t happening, like he didn’t just say he needed you.

You replied with a nod as he opened the door and climbed inside, knowing that when you entered that kitchen he wouldn’t be there anymore. You waited a few more minutes, smoking another cigarette as you considered your options, tried to clear your head and think rationally, yet it was hard as every part of your body ached for more of him, your legs weak just from the kiss you shared on the balcony. Finishig your smoke, you climbed inside the kitchen, where people remained unaware of what happened outside, as if you belonged to two different channels that now intertwined.

You searched for your best friend, wanting to let her know where you were going, reassuring that she needn’t worry but that you’d be just one floor above in case she needed something. Finding her was harder than you thought, minutes passing with you growing more nervous at the prospect of Oscar having given up on you, thinking you had done the same with him. Had he more options? Was he this open with every woman he found attractive? These thoughts clouded your mind as your eyes crossed with your best friend’s and she ran towards you. Tipsy, but not drunk. Good. You both filled each other in on what you had missed during the short time you weren’t next to each other, promising to be close if any of you were in need. Her good luck wink gave you all the approval you needed to leave that dorm room and head towards the upper floor.

The floor vibrated with the music underneath – Oscar wasn’t lying when he said it his room was right above – every beat pulsating with energy that matched your own beating heart. Your nervous hands knocked on the door, your mind too aware of your stance, wondering what would be considered normal in a situation like this. But all those thoughts evaporated your mind as the door opened and you were greeted with the mesmerizing view of the boy you had just made out with.

His hair was slightly damp, indicating that he had taken a shower, or was in the middle of one, as you noticed some droplets running across his smooth skin and a towel lazily wrapped around his hips. You felt hypnotized by his slight smirk and unpreoccupied appearance as he step aside to let you in. “Was starting to think you wouldn’t come” he commented as he pointed towards the sofa in the middle of the apartment, sitting casually next to you. “Hence the look” he continued, giggling slightly.

You were too aware of how naked he was and how little he seemed to care about it. He kept a comfortable distance between you, as if allowing you to stand up and leave were you to change your mind. But that wasn’t even an option to you as his eyes landed on your lips, lingering in there before he gently shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. “God, you have me wrapped around your finger” his tone was half joke, half truth, as if he couldn’t believe it himself, how you seemed to so effortlessly produce such an effect on him.

“Well, I was promised something” you shrugged teasingly, your confidence growing as you realized how much he craved you, how this was something he actually wanted for a while. With your comment, his eyes shot back to you, and his body quickly followed, hovering above yours, droplets of water falling delicately on your face as he looked down at you, hands placed on each side of your head. You couldn’t help but bite your lip hungrily, crossing your legs tightly trying to relieve some of the need you were feeling.

Oscar’s eyes remained on your face as he stopped your legs with his own. “No” he whispered with assertion. “You want me to show you want I imagine doing to you, then you’ll have to play your part and look pretty while at it.”

You were shocked at his words and actions and how they affected you, making it so the only thing you could do in response was nod. Your eyes wanted to wander to where the towel threatened to unwrap himself, but Oscar’s soft finger lifted your chin towards him. “Eyes on me” despite it being a command, his voice indicated anything but that. It was calm and reassuring, confident but not cocky.

His thumb grazed across your lower lip, fondling it gently before opening your mouth subtly. He inserted his index and middle finger inside your mouth, pushing smoothly against your tongue. You took it upon yourself to wrap your lips around them, sucking on them, your tongue playing with his skin as you maintained eye contact. “Fuck” he cursed, muscles trembling from trying to keep his position and composure.

After some seconds, he removed his fingers from your mouth, replacing them with his own lips, hungrily possessing you. As he did this, causing your brain to go lightheaded and register little to nothing at all apart from his touch and tongue caressing you, his hand slid down your exposed stomach to the inside of your jeans. Your arms were around his neck, trying to pull him closer despite the impossibility of it – but you needed more. More of him, of his touch and of his body on yours.

His finger caressed your clit softly, satisfying your needs in part, but simultaneously leaving you more frustrated. You couldn’t help but whimper, trying to grind against his teasing hand, hips moving almost instinctively, which caused a sensuous chuckle to leaving his lips. “You sound even better than what I imagined,” his finger dipped lowered towards your entrance, teasing it, playing with your own desperate hunger. “And you’re wetter, too.”

You moaned at his words, and despair invaded your brain, your hands rushing to unbutton your pants and giving Oscar all the liberty of movement, a silent plea for the feeling of him inside you. Your walls clenched around nothing when he pulled your top up, revealing your exposed breasts. His eyes lingered on them as he tasted you, placing his fingers in his mouth while his other hand removed the towel from around his waist.

Finally, you thought, throwing your own jeans on the floor, red lace panties covering little to nothing of the lower half of your body.

His erection sprang free as he dropped the towel as well, the tip glistening with pre cum, its entire length throbbing. His hand wrapped around it as he took the entire sight of you in, eyelids revealing a drunken thrill as his breath became more irregular.

“I thought about this so many fucking times” he started, not with longing but with a primal urge to have you, a matter-of-fact tone in his voice that caused your whole body to erupt in need. “Come here”

Oscar positioned himself on his knees at the edge of the couch, continuously stoking himself as you moved towards him on all fours, not daring to look away from the sheer sight of him. Pulling your hair, he directed your face towards his erection, pressing it against your lips. You opened your mouth and enveloped him slowly, savoring the salty taste of him as your tongue explored his length. Each one of your caresses made him groan and sigh in pleasure, your head bobbing up and down underneath him.

The sight of you was beautifully overwhelming to him, especially as you started grinding your hips against nothing at all. “Fuck, if I knew you wanted it this bad I would… I would’ve done this earlier” he struggled to say, mesmerized at how your eyes looked up at him, ecstasy-filled.

You moaned against his cock, vibrations traveling throughout his body as he jerked his hips up, deeper into you, more than what you thought possible. You teared up with the suddenness of it, though it made you dizzy with pleasure.

That pleasure was short-ended as his hand pulled your hair softly, an indication for you to stop. As he removed himself from inside your mouth, a string of saliva connected you both, your lips now swollen and red, shiny with spit.

Oscar lowered himself in order to kiss you while laying you on the sofa once again, his mouth leaving wet marks all over your body until it reached the area underneath your bellybutton. He blew softly on your skin, and goosebumps invaded your body as he pulled your underwear down and off of you, hands now placed around your thighs, opening them with fervor. Before you could register the coldness hitting your now exposed skin, his face buried in between your legs, licking you softly as his damp hair touched the skin on your thighs.

The warmth of his mouth contrasted with his still-wet hair, your mind clouded by wanting to wrap your legs around him and the instinct to pull away from the cold. He grinned against your wet pussy before sucking your clit, your hands flying towards his hair, pushing him against you.

“So needy…” he whispered, readjusting himself so he could bury two fingers into you and keep his attention on your clit, devouring you. His tongue sent your body into frenzied shivers, his name escaping your lips incoherently. His fingers intensified their pace, sliding in and out of you and curling inside you. “Fuck, you taste so good” he mumbled, “and my name sounds so good when you whimper it” he now looked at you intently, analyzing your pleasure with so much attention it almost made you blush – were your cheeks not red due to the heat of the desire. It was all so much, so much you couldn’t focus on it all, your body erupting into an orgasm, walls pulsating around his fingers, his gaze adoring your body and all of its movements.

Your chest rose and fell almost as fast as your heart beat, and you giggled, actually giggled, from how lightheaded you felt. “I need to see and hear that again” he stared, more than asked you, although he remained in place, only his hand slowly pulling out from inside you, covered in your juices. He wasted no time in wrapping it around his own erection, now even more visibly hungry for something – someone. You.

“Please” he pleaded, suddenly looking so greedy, so needy and desperate. For some reason, this reignited the desire within you, and although your body was still recovering from the intoxicating orgasm, you were ready to do it all again.

“Do I keep going in your fantasy?” you asked, voice hoarse and breathy. His eyes widened slightly, the pace of his movement as he worked himself up increased as he nodded. “Then why are you asking me?” you told him, the fact that you consented implicit in your tone, your legs spreading apart for him to gawk at.

He barely needed two seconds before positioning himself between your legs once again, the tip of his cock rubbing against your entrance. “You’re soaking” he tried saying, stumbling across some vowels due to his own excitement. “I don’t know if I can last much” he slowly entered you, savoring as every inch buried deeper inside you, “you drive me fucking crazy.”

Your eyes rolled the back of your head at how he filled you up, at his praise as he did so, at how good he sounded when incoherence and pleasure laced his words. His hips moved, at first in a slow, consistent, pace, which quickly changed after some seconds, along with his breathing.

His eyebrows furrowed as your nails dug into his back, the sudden pain feeling so thrilling when mixed with the pleasure of being inside you. “Turn around” he said, pulling himself out of you for less than a second, giving you only time to lay on your stomach with your ass in the air.

That position allowed for him to go even deeper inside you, to hear you scream in pleasure as your own hand touched your clit in desperate need for more release. “You like that?” he asked in between breaths, knowing he could barely hold it any longer.

You tried saying the word ‘yes’ but even that failed you, your vision cloudy and your head foggy as you felt him close to release. His moans increased in loudness and intensity, your name being one of the few coherent things he could say before pulling himself out of you and orgasming, his cum spread across your back.

You couldn’t do anything but succumb to your own pleasure erratically, the simultaneous nature of your orgasms driving you into your own craziness.

Your body collapsed on the couch as his pressed tightly against you, both of you trying to gather your thoughts. Lying on his back, his head now looking at the ceiling, Oscar turned to you softly. “Want to sleep over?”

Your plan was not going to work.

[thisismeracing]

Rosy cheeks, salty hair, warm bodies | MS47

Pairing: Mick Schumacher x fem!reader (she/her)

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: not proofread; mentions public sex (but not really); graphic description of sex; p in v; oral (fem receiving); orgasm denail; mentions of food and alcohol; +18 (minors DNI);

Summary: After finally matching their schedules and booking a trip together, Yn and Mick decide to go to Mallorca for a well-deserved break. The fact that they went weeks without seeing one another and the tension around the hot weather and beach garments only helped build the momentum in which her boyfriend would absolutely ruin her in bed.

A/n: It's my first time posting a smut piece (stand-alone/one-shot), so I'm kinda nervous about the feedback lol I hope this was just enough description without getting boring or over-detailed. I got too carried away and ended up writing 5k when it was supposed to be a small smut just over 1k. Anyways, hope you guys like it, please let me know in the comments and asks (the anon option is working, so if you're shy feel free to use it) *mwah* 🤍

Based on this request. I hope I was able to deliver, nonny! 💙

see my masterlist | check here if you want to be on my new taglist

you can support my writing by liking and reblogging

“Micky, can you help me with my bikini?” Yn whined stalking inside the room. Mick, who was lying on the bed, took his eyes off his phone to face Yn holding the most provocative piece of bikini he ever saw against her chest. Wind gushed inside the room through the open curtains, and the strings from her bottom piece moved deliciously against her tanned skin, her curls on top of her head moving like waves as well.

They were in Mallorca for a vacation after finally matching their schedules and taking a week off, far away from everyone and everything work-related. It wasn’t easy to see each other between race weeks, work, and classes, so both of them were hell-bent on spending as much time together as possible during the few days they got. Their friends were aware that for half of their break, Mick and Yn were each other's priorities, and they would give friends and family the attention, but only after working on the yearning for the other. 

“Sure,”  he smiled, pushing his body to the edge of the bed, and before he could get up, Yn was stepping between his legs, tits smashed behind her arm and the flowing piece of clothing right in front of him. 

Yn gave him a small smirk, turning around, and recklessly, or rather, purposely as the Schumacher knew his girlfriend very well, leaving the white bathing suit fall to the ground, “oops,” a giggle escaped her lips, and she bent to pick it up. Now, her ass was right in front of him, barely covered by the white fabric. It was as if she was giving him a show, exposing every inch of her to him in the most provocative way just to rile him up. Mick felt his body get warm, hands twitching to knead and touch her flash, but he was a patient man. He mastered the game she was trying to play. 

Maybe that was the reason she wanted to play in the first place: she knew he would take the reigns, knew he would bottle up all his pent-up frustration only to give it to her in the form of pleasure in bed. 

“Two knots?” Mick asked, already starting to twist the strings into a second know, as it was common for Yn to ask for it in a way to secure her bathing suit in place.

“No, just one,” she surprised him with her answer and made his ears perk up with the addition, “It’s easier to take it off that way.” 

Mick held in a breath, and bite his lips before letting go of the white piece and giving two taps on her bum to let her know he was finished. 

“Thank you, handsome,” Yn turned around, leaving a peck on his pink lips and running back to the bathroom. 

Mick knew he was in for a long day. He would go as far as to consider he was in for a long week because that was just Yn. She knew how to play his game, how to feed his imagination, how to push him to the edge only for them to jump together. She could very well keep the provocative jokes going around for the whole vacation. It was just the of them after all. They had yet to christen some spaces in the house.

It wasn’t long before they were both on the boat, the sun scalding against his skin as Mick found just the perfect spot to let the yacht float lightly with the waves. Away from the possibility of people on Land watching and far far away from other boats. It was them, the sun, and the calm waters.

“Love, you have to reapply your sunscreen,” Yn instructs with a bottle of the cream in her hands.

“You should too,” he mumbles when Yn starts putting the lotion on his cheeks, Mick’s hands instantly finding her waist to bring her body closer. 

“I will, but your skin is more sensitive than mine. I don’t want you looking like a lobster later,” 

“I think I rock the rosy cheeks.” It’s a joke, but he does, in fact, look stunning to Yn, especially after soaking up the sun and showing up with a new color to his face. It’s endearing.

“You do, but I’m not the biggest fan of the same color on your back, for instance,” she starts, skilled hands applying the lotion on his large shoulders. She kneads Mick’s skin and muscles under her fingers, leaving a kiss on the column of his neck and adding, “It wouldn’t be that fun to leave nails mark on your skin when it's sore. Takes away all the fun.” 

And oh, did he understand exactly what she was talking about. 

As the day went by, her provocative behaviors only got worse. She got bolder, going as far as taking off her bikinis to “tan properly” and leaving the two small pieces of fabric hanging on the yacht’s metal bar. They swam, joked around, and ate the food packed in the morning. It was so exhilarating to be just the two of them without work obligations looming around. Their shoulders seemed more relaxed, eyes lazily admiring everything around, body and mind completely calm. 

“I love you,” Yn whispered, giving Mick one more bite of the watermelon they were sharing. His pink lips curled up in a smile, the juice from the fruit escaping and sliding to his chin. Yn admired the image before dipping her face to his and licking the spot clean.

“I love you so much,” Mick echoed, holding her jaw and directing her lips to his mouth. His lips parted, and their tongues found each other in a hungry kiss, the sweet taste of watermelon sugar still present, along with hints of the alcohol they shared earlier. “I appreciate you,” he confided, hands holding her body closer and changing positions so now Yn was directly under him, his torso between her parted legs. “I’m crazy about you,” Mick kept going, warm lips trailing down to her jaw and neck. Yn tangled her fingers between his golden strands in a silent cry for him to not distance his lips from her, for him to keep going forever. 

Mick was the perfect lover, and as the sun started to change positions in the sky, bathing their wet bodies in its sunlight, illuminating the scene as if the big star was watching it, Yn couldn’t help but to feel the luckiest woman alive. 

“You’re so perfect,” his elbow left the ground, his body lowering on top of hers, and his now free hand squeezed her ass. “Everything about you is perfect,” Mick stated before kissing her hard nipples against the top of the white bikini. She swore she could feel his warm mouth suck it, yet Mick did not move the clothing, just directed his face closer to her again and captured her lips in another kiss. 

And as much as Yn expected her boyfriend to lose control and make love to her on top of his boat, she knew he wouldn’t do so, not today, at least. She suspected the make-out session was very much intentional, to make her horny and somehow work as a payback for all the teasing she did throughout the day. 

“The sun will set in some hours. We should go back,” Mick mumbled, still assaulting Yn’s neck. “I’m cooking for you tonight,” he added.

Yn smiled, caressing his back, his muscles relaxed under her nails, “I’m starving.” 

“I’m gonna feed you well, stuff you full of...” he trailed off because her lips bite his. If Mick kept throwing double-meaning words at her, she wouldn’t be able to wait until they got home. “Full of pasta, Schatz. I’m cooking pasta tonight,” he teased, and they both burst out laughing.

“We better get going if you really wanna cook dinner.” Yn pressed a peck to Mick’s cheeks, and he got up, adjusting his swim shorts and then helping Yn up as well. 

The ride back to the coast was peaceful, and they took the time to admire the place a bit more, the clear waters even clearer with the sunlight. Families, friends, and couples, swimming around and enjoying the weather and the free time. Everything seemed inviting and tranquil. 

They took the car back to the house, and Mick didn’t let space for Yn to suggest a joint shower. He knew if they got inside the bathroom together, they wouldn’t leave for dinner or anything sooner than in the morning. So he took the safe option and went shower in the guest suite while Yn got ready in their room. 

“Did you take classes? It smells fantastic,” Yn voiced when she emerged from the bathroom. Mick was already fully dressed, in black slacks and a white polo shirt, he was barefoot, and his salty hair was sticking everywhere, still naturally drying after the shower. 

“I did, in fact,” he chuckled, adding a bit of salt to the sauce. “I used my free day during the France GP to make a gastronomic tour, and they offered a free course on some dishes,” he explained before turning around to face Yn. She saw the moment he gulped, eyes trailing down her figure and taking in the sundress hugging her curves just right. 

The green fabric was just the perfect shade against her tanned dark skin, although Mick suspected there wasn’t a color that wouldn’t go with her tone. Anything Yn wore, she did it flawlessly, and he would never get tired of watching her with different sets and colors going around her day as if things were normal. Meanwhile, he was trying to stop his heart from bursting through his throat. 

“You like it?” she asked a bubbly tone to her voice, twirling her dress around. 

“Did I like it?” Mick echoes, putting his two hands on his hips and doing a once over on Yn again. “I fucking adored it, Schatz,” he panted, and she smiled.

Mick winked at her and turned back to the stove in a poor attempt to calm his nerves. They had to have dinner before eating dessert. He reminded himself. 

“I’m taking you on a ride later,” some minutes passed until the German mentioned, now skipping to the pasta dough, it was ready to go into the pan. 

“Oh, then let me switch for pants,” Yn pointed at her dress, and Mick smirked.

“Nah, you got just the right outfit for my plans.” 

Her eyebrows went up for less than a second before her mind registered the double meaning behind his words, a chuckle passing between her lips. She absolutely adored his dirty side and how it started coming out in hints and soft words before going on full mouthy. 

“Let me help you with dinner,” it was not a question, and Mick knew she was plotting something when she got in front of him, reaching for the cupholder when he had yet to give her instructions.

Her ass brushed against his crotch, and he bites his lips to keep both, the groan from escaping his throat, and his hands from grabbing her hips and smashing her flesh harder against him. But Mick knew sex worked like the art of cooking sometimes. You had to be patient with the right timing, not too soon, or it will be undercooked, not too late as it can get burned. 

However, Yn was still in her teasy mood, and Mick couldn’t do anything but try to hold himself back. At least until he finished dinner. Yn knew it was taking him everything, especially because Mick loved to feed and fuck her, most of the time on this order, but not always. Nonetheless, considering their lunch was a packed sandwich and fruits back in the boat hours ago, she knew he would make sure she had food on her belly and enough energy to keep up with his stamina. 

So dinner prep was harder than Mick anticipated, and for as curious as it seems, it was the same for Yn. She was the one teasing, but Mick, sure as well, knew how to pay with the same coin, so when they sat at the table to eat, they were both flushed and eager to be over with the food. The latter was indeed as tasty as the smell gave out, and Yn did not hold back her praises to her boyfriend about how good his course was and how she was excited for when he would try some new recipe again. 

After they were both finished, Mick stood up to take the dishes to the kitchen, claiming it was time for dessert, and for a second, Yn believed him until her boyfriend showed up at the table empty-handed.

Well, not empty-handed per se.

Mick had two protein bards and two bottles of water in hand. A playful smirk was on display on his lips.

“Dessert is a protein bar?” Yn wondered aloud.

“Nah, that’s for later,” Mick murmured before sitting back on his chair and putting up his palm for Yn, silently asking for her hand. She held it, and he motioned for her to get up and stand between his open legs and the table, “Did you already forget what my dessert was supposed to be?” he teased, and Yn felt her legs shake in anticipation. “What? Cat got your tongue, Schatz?” 

Mick’s hand brought her body closer by the waist, face dipping and bit and appreciating the view of her hard nipples against the fabric of the green dress right in front of his face. He parted his lips just enough to roll one between his teeth, wetting the fabric, and, consequently, Yn’s panties. 

She whimpered.

Mick smiled, finally hearing something from her. 

“You made my job a lot easier wearing this piece, babe,” it was said out loud, but it seemed as if Mick was talking to himself for a second. Yn was too absorbed between the feeling of his mouth playing and teasing her boobs and his skilled hands traveling the length of her dress, dipping under it to share her attention. 

“Micky,” Yn chanted before he smashed their lips together in a sloppy kiss. 

There was a hint of wine mixed with her balm, and Mick had to withdraw for a second to let the guttural noise go past his lips. Yn swallowed it in a new kiss, fingers gripping his hair tightly and bringing him closer, taking what she wanted without an ounce of hesitation. 

“You teased me too much. I’m not letting you get away with it,” the German interrupted, dipping his hands under her dress one more time, except this time, his fingers found the side of her panties and pushed it down to her ankles. A grin formed on Mick’s face when he noticed the wet spot in the middle of the clothing. Yn stepped off the piece, and he directed her body right on top of the table, legs spread for him, pussy right in front of his face. 

What a dessert. 

If his temper weren’t so controlled, he could easily rip his pants and fuck her until everyone on that island knew how hard they went in bed. However, he wasn’t that guy. He knew exactly how to work Yn’s body, and this week was all about extending their pleasure and taking their time. 

He had the energy to do so.

And that he did when he held Yn’s ankle, opening her legs even wider while kissing her inner thighs. Yn shudders when his breathing hits her center, and there’s a jolt on her body when his lips finally make contact with her pussy. Mick pays attention to everything, kissing, touching, and tracing. It’s almost infuriating how good he is at it, mainly because some things just happen naturally, such as when he’s licking her entrance and his nose has just the perfect size to bump against her clit in a friction that makes her toes curl but still are not enough to make her cum. 

And Mick knows that. He knows exactly what his body and actions do to Yn, and he has fun in the process. He enjoys every stage of sex with Yn, and maybe that’s why they find solace in giving each other pleasure. Mick gets hard just at the thought of giving head to Yn, and you could definitely say the same about Yn. 

“You so wet,” he jibes, sucking her clit just enough to make her moan louder. “Look at me, Schatz, look at the mess you’re making on my face,” and didn’t she look?!

The scene of Mick between her legs, jaw, and mouth glistening with her juices, eyes a shade darker, and lips parted, ready to dive in again, was enough to bring another whimper out of her. 

“Please, Mick,” she pleaded, and his sly grin only grew bigger.

“You spent the whole day testing me. Now you’re going to take it like a good girl. I’m not even close to finishing with you.”

And then his lips were attached to her clit again, sucking, licking, and drawing figures. When her hips roll off the table and up to his mouth, pushing his face impossibly closer, Mick groans, lacing his arm around her torso and keeping her in place, “Be. Fucking. Patient.” Each word was punctuated by a flick of his tongue on her most sensitive spot, and Yn can’t help but cry his name. 

“Babe, please, use your fingers,” it’s a whine, a plea, after minutes of Mick lazily sucking and licking her pussy. Each time he does it gets wetter. It’s like her body is hanging on his mercy and his wants. 

Yn feels his lips pull against her pussy before he withdraws, kissing around her legs, and finally, fucking finally –she sighs– he inserts one finger inside. It’s not enough, though it stretches her just right until a second and longer finger makes its way inside too. Yn’s body shakes from pleasure, and she squeezes her tits harder under her own hands. 

“Mick, it feels so good,” the praise escapes between her lips, and he takes the opportunity to insert yet another finger. This time she screams his name, and the blonde knows she’s getting closer to her climax. 

She was looking fucking fantastic in front of him, and, for a second, he saw himself considering the possibility of delaying her orgasm for a while longer, only to watch her body sprawled on top of the table, legs spread, dress bunched up her hips, one of its sleeves unabashedly down revealing her hard nipple and tit, hair around her head like a crown. 

She was a sigh for sore eye. 

Mick moved his fingers inside her delivering motions he knew would bring her closer to the edge. He let go of her hips just to find her tits and pinch one between his pointer and forefinger. Mick did it all without stopping his fingers inside of her. He explored, kissed, and licked a bit more, and he did it all, grinning up at her like a devil. 

“Best fucking dessert ever,” Mick vowed. 

He watched as Yn bite her lip, her hips pushing closer to him, back arching and toes curling, he watched it all unfold, and he wanted to keep that image engraved on his mind forever. The image and the feeling of her fingers threading through his hair, pushing his face closer to her entrance, seeking her own high without an ounce of shame. 

The wait was so worth it.

“C’mon, Schatz, you can let go,” he mumbled against her pussy, taking her clit between his lips and rolling his tongue just right to throw Yn over the edge. 

She screamed his name. She whimpered at him. It was him she praised and thanked as she rode her high with his fingers still inside her, lips and tongue helping her through the wave so it would last longer.

Mick smiled against her thighs before pushing up the chair and kissing his way up to her neck. His fingers worked on her dress to remove it completely, and Yn could only sigh in a relaxed instance while her boyfriend worked on the sweet spot on her neck. 

“How was dessert?” she whispered, and Mick chuckled.

“Fucking phenomenal, Schatz. It tasted like heaven,” his words were delivered while his ocean-blue eyes stared right into her, and her body shuddered deliciously. “Here,” Mick dipped his face close to her lips, and Yn was quick to kiss him feeling the wet spots on his jaw work against her skin. 

She groaned, and he grounded his hard-on against her lower half involuntarily. 

“Fuck me, just fuck me, Mick,” and oh, there was something so dirty about the whole scene. Yn was lying completely naked,  asking to be fucked, while Mick was still dressed up. 

“Not yet. Opposed to you, I was patient, and so I deserve to have dessert again,” He smirked. “I want you to listen attentively ok, love?” Yn could only nod, and Mick kept going. “We’re going to the bedroom, and you’re going to sit on my face. Not that hovering shit you like to pull up sometimes, you’re full-on sitting, and I’m gonna eat you out for a bit longer, just so you can understand how things work when you tease your boyfriend the whole day. Then, and only then, I’m fucking you, ass up, face down. If you behave, you get to have a fourth orgasm.” 

Yn nodded again, and Mick shook his head, “I wanna hear your voice, Schatz.”

“I’m sorry, Micky. I won’t tease you anymore, and I’m sitting on your face just like you want me to.”

And that she did.

 “Good girl,” the blonde praised when Yn kept her hips still for him to insert a finger inside. Her walls involuntarily wrapped around his digits. She was way too needy, and he almost gave up his games to give her what she wanted. Her orgasm came in shockwaves, this time harder than the first, and her body toppled backward, back finding the soft mattress between a series of swears and praises directed to her boyfriend. 

Mick kissed her naked body, fingers lazily caressing her sweaty skin, praising her silently. He reached for the water bottle, uncapped it, and planted a kiss on her jaw before handing it to her. Yn motioned for him to hold her up, and he laughed, putting her body in a seating position, supporting her back in case she fell. Yn gulped down the water and sighed, enjoying the break. 

“Do you want a protein bar now, meine Süße?”

“Please,” she put her hands together in a plea and then took another swing from the bottle. Mick chuckled yet again and opened the small bar handing it to his girlfriend. “Thank you,” Yn breathed.

She passed him the bottle, and Mick finished the water while watching her munch on the bar. Yn glanced at her fingers stained with chocolate syrup, and before she could clean them, Mick’s lips were attached around them licking them clean. 

“Tell me you’re finally fucking me, Mick,” Yn cried out, “I love it when you give me head, but right now, I need your dick. Inside me,” she added the last part running her nails over his neck. “Or you could let me suck you too. I wouldn't mind.”

And it was crazy how crude and free she could be around him without fear of judgment, never had Yn, in all her life, experienced love this way. The kind of love that can be both dirty and still warm and make you giggle. Mick was the perfect balance between both. He was a gentleman, he was careful, he was loving. But he knew when to be rough and dirty-mouthed, and oh, when he did, it was like experiencing a piece of heaven.

“You don’t deserve it right now,” Schumacher pondered, caressing her jaw, his fingers drawing around her cheekbones and coming straight into her open mouth. Yn sucked two digits in, twirling her tongue around and hollowing her cheeks, which cost a shudder followed by a grunt from Mick. 

“But you do. C’mon, Micky.” 

He shook his head, traced her face one more time, and then started to strip himself. When all his clothes are on the ground, Mick doesn’t waste any time fitting his body between Yn’s legs, mouth naturally finding hers in a languid kiss. His fingers knead the flesh of her ass pulling out pants from her. Mick could feel the familiar and impatient rise of her hips, pussy leaking her juices on the naked skin of his abs, “You’re gonna turn around now, stick your ass up, lie your face down, and let me fuck you just right, ok?” There’s a beat of silence, Yn trying to keep from trashing under Mick and begging him to just stick it in. She was so sensitive it wouldn’t take long for her third orgasm to hit. “I asked you a question, Schatz,” Mick pinched her nipple between his pointer and forefinger, and Yn whined but gathered the energy she just got from the protein barn to turn around and do exactly as told, once again body completely exposed and opened to her boyfriend. The confidence in the effects her curves had on him, and the certainty of a reward coming, only made the moment more electric. 

When Mick finally slides in, they both let out shaky breaths and although his dick goes easily all the way inside with the help of her moisture, her body still needs a second to accommodate his full size. The angle is just perfect. Mick has access to the headboard to steady himself if needed, he controls the pace by holding her waist, and his hands can travel around her whole body with ease. And that’s what he does.

With one of his hands positioned on Yn’s waist, he massages her ass with the other one and bends his body just enough to leave a wet kiss on the place where her neck and shoulders meet. She whines again because the movement just changed his position inside. Yn silently looks for his hands, squeezing them, and it’s all the confirmation Mick needs to now direct both hands to her midsection, and pull all the way out before slamming his hips against hers in a swift motion. 

His eyes roll back when she shudders and moans his name loudly. The Schumacher was grateful the house was theirs and only theirs for the whole week. Otherwise, everyone would hear what the couple was up to. 

Hips snapping again, it was Mick’s turn to let out his noises, hands coming down on Yn’s ass in a sharp slap when she rocked back against him just right and hit a spot that sent both of them to see stars. 

“Micky, you’re filling me up so good,” Yn panted. 

“You’re such a dirty girl,” he husked, and she moaned louder. “Go ahead. You can moan as loud as you want. Let me hear you, babe. Who’s filling you up good, huh?” 

“Answer. Me.” He punctuated each word with a deep stroke, and Yn could feel the coil starting on her stomach and traveling to her lower belly. 

“You, Mick- oh fuck,” Yn choked. “You’re the only one to make me feel this way.” 

The Schumacher bent his body, nipping at Yn’s neck without stopping the snap of his hips. Yn pressed her eyes closed, trying to stand on her elbows, Mick’s lips quick to find hers in a sloppy kiss, smiling and moaning, swallowing every dirty word whispered. His fingers traveled to her front and flicked against her clit, pressing and pinching it, bringing Yn to the edge. 

“I’m about to cum, Mick.”

“No, you’re not coming yet,” he breathes the order, lips kissing and biting her neck, hips thrusting, and fingers moving. It’s too much, and Yn can’t help but voice it loudly. It’s way too good, but it’s also way too much. She wouldn’t be able to hold back, and just when she was about to reach that peaceful space, to snap the coil on her belly, Mick stopped everything. 

“Mick!” It was a frustrated plead, and he turned her on her back, smiling up like a devil. 

“Want you to look at me,” he rasped, and she mewled when he buried himself inside her again without much ceremony. The new angle brought more intimacy, and when her legs opened wider, lacing themselves around it, they knew it was enough to make them cum even faster than they would before. 

Yn raked her nails through the skin of his back, and Mick rutted harder against her pussy, his hands looking for leverage on the headboard before sliding off and thrusting in harder. He repeated the motion some more until Yn grabbed him by his golden chain and smashed their foreheads together, “Tell me what you want. Use your words,” Mick ordered.

“Let me cum, kiss me, touch me,” she begged, and Mick rolled his eyes back from pleasure. There was something so unique about having that side of her, a side only he could see.

“Spread your legs wider, touch yourself, and don’t take your eyes off me, m’kay?” 

“Ok,” Yn nodded and did exactly as told, fingers lazily playing with her clit while he kept his pace going. Her free hand found his shoulders holding it for support when Mick ducked his head and took her boob inside his mouth, tongue swirling around the bud and teeth scraping it lightly. 

She could feel her body dissolving into pleasure, pushing her to the edge, toes curling, eyes involuntarily starting to shut, but there he was, face near her again, kissing and nipping her jaw and eyes finding hers and then sinking his dick in a hard thrust, just what Yn needed to topple over, nails digging harder on Mick’s back. 

“Don’t hold back, Schatz,” he cooed, slowing his movements but not stopping. “You did so well. Can you take just one more?” 

She was still dizzy in ecstasy, adrenaline coursing through her body. Her fingers tangled on his chain again, and Mick obliged, kissing her hard and starting a new series of thrusting, gridding, and hutting, now searching for his own relief. 

Yn contracted her pussy, her body still riding the orgasm. It was hell and heaven, and Mick could only take so much. He tried closing his eyes, but it was her turn to bark a simple order, “Keep your eyes on mine, Mick. I wanna see you cum.”

And that he did. He stared deep into Yn’s eyes while his body switched paces on its own accord, from fast and hard, to lazy and deep, and then hard again, until he couldn’t take it anymore, his features going dark, pink lips spelling all the most profanes and dirty things imaginable before his hips stilled coming inside her, taking yet another orgasm from Yn. 

They collapsed together in bed, his body on top, dick still twitching inside her. 

“That was…woah-” Yn’s voice was raspy, and Mick chuckled, moving his face to the side to plant a kiss on her neck. 

Yn’s fingers threaded through Mick’s short strands, massaging his scalp while they evened out their breaths. 

“Is there more from that pasta we had for dinner?” Yn asked, and the German kissed his way to her chest, resting his head there and letting out a sigh of pleasure. 

“I’m gonna grab it for you, and then we’re going at it again in the shower. I’m not done with you yet.” He reached for the other water bottle by the nightstand and unclasped it, taking a swing and pushing it toward Yn. 

“I guess that’s what I get for dating an athlete, huh?” she joked before sitting up slightly and sipping her water.

“Oh, but you love it, don’t you?” 

Yn smiled bright and big. Her body was floating after four orgasms and so much affection, “I do. I love you.” 

taglist: @sachaa-ff @ferrariloverr @kenanlotus0 @mellowpizzapuppy @mickslover @Dalsuwaha @formulakay3 @mishaandthebrits @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie

[victonair]

“Where’s the trophy? They just come running over to me” - in which you, a popular ace in NRC’s basketball team, is tricked into a deal involving your servitude to the esteemed Dorm Head of Octavinelle, Azul Ashengrotto

Or rather

The rather long blurb that the author wanted to write due brainrot, added with a short drabble

Author’s Note: This was supposed to be an attempt at writing headcanons, but unfortunately, I realized it looked too much like a oneshot. Aside from that, I would really appreciate any requests in my inbox for me to write! I’ll be able to write almost anything except anything that violates my rules! Please do request, I’d be very appreciative! I usually write about 1k-5k words so if you specify the word count, I’ll do just that!

Content Warnings: A bit of hatred on the reader’s part in the first part due to Azul tricking them into a deal. Both Reader and Azul are emotionally constipated. Reader is gender-neutral and is not Yuu. However, reader is implied to be quite brutish and strong physically - also slightly mean on their part. But to be fair, aren’t almost all NRC students mean?

-

At an early point in his life, Azul had decided that he had hated anything remotely athletic;  if anything involved running, flying, and exerting effort into one’s body, he resigned himself to a more moody disposition. That’s why it was so ironic that he ended up coming to love someone who loved athletics and took to every sport, almost like their body was adapted to flying, running, and tackling - it was astounding how talented you were in sports. But there was one sport that he knew you had come to love the most: basketball.

You loved the teamwork, the strategy, and the physical exertion that took for you to run, jump, and shoot; it was exhilarating and for a time - he knew that it was the top priority in your life to stay on NRC’s prestigious team. That was until you met him, and at that point in time, it had been a gradual and slow descent into your relationship.

At first, he had thought you like one of those Savannaclaw brutes who took everything to the physical level, and well, you did. You tended to get physical with people who offended who you treasured, which meant your friends within the school. Despite your popularity, you had an infamous reputation for your opponents ending up in the school clinic with scars and bruises - you on the other hand, came out unscathed usually, sometimes with a bruise or two if your opponents were lucky.

However, unlike the students in Savannaclaw, you were surprisingly decent with your grades and student activity - it was more of your record that was a flaw, but that was overshadowed by your wins and your position as ace in the basketball team, winning over RSA as well, granting you popularity and favorable treatment by students who were either intimidated or respected you. Azul, however, thought you would be a valuable asset to carry out his bidding - influencing students to support his business or get students who were being unruly with their contracts to be on line. And really, all he needed to do was loop you into a deal.

And so he did, he took the opportunity to loop you into a deal, doing a deal with your friend first to trap them into servitude- service! The moment you heard about the incident, you came to threaten Azul with the intention of beating the ever living lights of him; however, this action came with Jade and Floyd standing behind him, looking at you menacingly - you could take at least one of them, but both of them? You would end up in the infirmary injured if you took both of them on. It was a losing battle, and so you listened to Azul’s proposition instead. Even though you were struggling not to punch the lights out of him.

The result was a frustrated yet resigned you, signing the contract that Azul offered - making you one of his lackeys, if you not being able to beat him up didn’t hurt your pride - then that did. From there, your relationship was quite rocky, you worked for him and some of things that your contract forced you to do were: to ‘gently’ remind (threaten) students who didn’t comply with their contracts or Azul’s demands, work in the Mostro Lounge for your fans to come there (you were basically free advertisement), and use your influence to promote Azul’s business. You were basically a lackey, and to make matters worse: sometimes, you were used as an errand runner. At those moments, you were tempted to just smash his head against the wall when he set you up for simple tasks.

Begrudgingly, you basically obeyed his commands and became someone he usually handed over tasks, even using your face and games to advertise you and himself to the general public. Now, to put it short how you felt with him - imagine a dartboard with his face plastered on a picture stapled on it, then imagine there being multiple darts thrown mid-air, landing perfectly on his face. That was how you felt about him. You wouldn’t say you hated him. No, that was rather too light - you despised him.

As a result of being in servitude to him, you were basically stuck around him for quite a lot of time. Your usual location if people wanted to find you was always in Octavinelle (if it wasn’t the gym or basketball court) and even then - Azul capitalized your time and appearance by requiring people to pay if they wanted to stay and chat with you. And due to being stuck with him, you repaid his ‘generosity’ ten-fold by proceeding to constantly banter and annoy him.

It was hell. Hell was in the form of one person and it was you. Azul tried his best to focus on working, but eventually he snapped back with insults as well; most of your time together was in the form of snarky comments and banter that took insults almost personal. Eventually, both of your insults lessened as you got to know each other better since you stayed by his side most of the time - however, it still didn’t change the despise you had for him. And this didn’t change for a while. Until the result of his breakdown and overblot.

Originally, when you saw the breakdown - you were supposed to say a snarky comment and insult him, thinking he got what he deserved. And well, he did - he successfully enslaved a majority of the student population and tried to involve the Prefect of Ramshackle into his schemes, but failed due to intervention. You were happy that he got what he deserved, and most of all: you were free. Free of the chains he had cast on you since the contract.

But when you saw him breakdown, something hurt inside you. You didn’t know why too, and as a result you ended up freezing as you saw tears coming out of his eyes. He had never displayed any type of genuine emotion, this was the only time that you had seen a genuine and vulnerable display from him. You didn’t interfere as he wailed in pain of losing everything he had worked for. Maybe in other worlds and timelines, you’d have been kinder, more patient, considerate - but in this one, you weren’t. You were selfish, brutish, and you had the capability to be cruel at times - you were the perfect example of an NRC student.

But maybe, you could be just somewhat kinder in this school, because clearly, most of these students couldn’t be. And for once, you didn’t make a selfish decision: you took off running and casting spells to eliminate the entity behind him. Putting your all, you fought alongside the students, despite almost getting injured many times. When all was said and done, and when he was defeated - you didn’t freeze this time. You took off running once more to his body, and quickly checked all his vital signs - and once the Head Master came, you took off to the infirmary and from there everything was a stressed blur.

Azul woke up with you beside him, sleeping on a chair - there were flowers on his bedside in the infirmary and there was only one question on his mind when you woke up: why were you here after everything he had done to you.

And with all honesty, you responded with the answer that you’ve been wondering yourself for all this time: you didn’t know. The clinic was white, everything smelled like alcohol and sterilized materials, and you two were the only people present there - both of you stared at each other with unknown emotions brewing within both of your eyes. Multiple conversations ensued and by the end of it, both of you were confused and unsure. It was a moment that both of you would never forget, as later in the future you would be thankful that this moment happened in the first place.

From there on out, despite your contract being eliminated, you took to staying by Azul’s side - albeit with general denial if you were asked and confusion of the public as well as your admirers and fans. Azul, himself, was confused with his development and at some point, asked what you wanted from him. Which you replied with the same answer that you answered with in the infirmary: you didn’t know.

Initially, you came to the conclusion that it was most likely a habit out of the time you had served under him. But that didn’t really explain your behavior; it didn’t explain why you stayed by his side like a guard dog and defended his name, both physically and verbally, when people bad-mouthed him. And somehow, you were almost…seemingly gentle with him.

Both you and Azul were baffled by your behavior, it was something that both of you wondered and analyzed, separately. Despite your unusual behavior though, he refused to let go of you, since you were the only one who ‘served’ under him since the dissolution of his contracts by the Dorm Head of Savannaclaw.

For some time, there was an awkward tension between the both of you; it was palpable to everyone that the both of you were in a sort of awkward stage. You didn’t know why you were defending and staying with Azul, while Azul wondered the same thing too. The awkwardness didn’t dissolve until the both of you settled into a routine with one rule, which was to never bring up why exactly in the first place you were still serving him without your contract.

The both of you got to know each other, despite your tense relationship - and through the routine, you took to staying in Azul’s office more - making sure to take care of him when he was overworking and generally trying to make life easier for him. And somehow, you ended up having a sort of complicated ‘relationship’ with him. With the both of you spending most of your time together, but denying any sort of relationship with each other, with Azul stating that he was paying you whilst you were saying that you just took an interest in him.

Rumors spread through the student body, and at first, you were okay with it. Until people began asking and you, yourself, was coming to a realization: you didn’t know what you felt for him at all. It wasn’t exactly a working relationship or a relationship at all. It was a secret third thing. Out of pressure and tension, you broke down - stopping your visits to him and avoiding him at all costs. To Azul, it provided its own realization, a slow realization that descended into hell for him. It was like Dante’s Inferno, except with the stages of grief - eventually going into acceptance that he felt something for you.

He was going to confront you. Eventually. The only problem was that you were avoiding at every turn, using either your fans, speed, and everything that was a force to be reckoned against to avoid him. When he realized, he couldn’t exactly confront you with the way you were using everything in your power to hide from his sight. It was only through Jade and Floyd catching you and threatening you, then proceeding to drag you to Azul’s office is when both of you were able to talk.

From there, it was a conversation between two emotionally constipated and repressed people that had never talked vulnerably in their life. It was one of the hardest conversations you had in your life, but at the end of it - you were trembling as you hugged him. You weren’t exactly dating yet, more in the middle ground.

But from then on, you stayed by his side most of the time and invited him to every one of your games. And through a lot of communication and painful slow burn, you eventually entered into a relationship.

That was why it wasn’t unusual for you to see him at one of the VIP spots in all your games, events, and sometimes, he’d even be seen at practices - handing you a small towel with a snarky comment on the tip of his lips because even after all this time, both of you had never stopped bantering.

It was well-known that you were devoted to him, and that was seen in every event, but it was established in one particular event which were the championships ending with two schools facing against each other: NRC and RSA.

-

The stadium roared with cheers as you landed the last point that would score you one point over RSA, it was a close play and you had thrown the ball in at a far length. The moment you did, you didn’t go running to your teammates, you didn’t run to your coach, nor did you run to your friends who were cheering you on from a podium. You didn’t freeze either; you were sweating and your ears rang with the victory you had scored - the big smile on your face was palpable. Despite your feet racing on the ground, you didn’t run to any of the people just mentioned. Instead, your eyes zoomed in into one face in the crowd: one face that you had your eye on the entire time you were playing and whenever there was a break.

You ran to Azul. You ran quickly with the biggest grin on your face, and when you reached him - you hugged him while murmuring repeatedly three words that echoed in your own little world.

“I love you.”

It was the only thing you repeated as you cupped his face, looking at him with pure adoration and devotion; you didn’t even notice how red he was and how the cameras were zooming onto you - the stadium screen focused on the both of you. And with the repitition of the three words, you did one last thing that staked your claim on him and the establishment of your love to the world. You kissed him.

The entire stadium roared, but really - you couldn’t care less. All you knew is that he was the constant in your life that you’d make sure stayed with you for as long as you lived. And you knew Azul thought the same thing as he cupped your cheek and planted a soft kiss on your lips once more.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Could I request Where Thor and reader are trying for a baby and nothing works except for one day they get lucky but then he goes on to Asgard before reader has a chance to tell him and he looses trials of time in Asgard so when he comes back he thinks reader cheated so angst but then it’s just fluffy and cute.

Sorry if this is long! just really love how you write thor! Especially chubby Thor!

Rain Rain Go Away

Thor x plus size reader

Trying and failing over and over can take its toll on anyone’s mind but a sudden success after so long can make them fracture.

Warnings: struggles to conceive, self-hatred, presumed infidelity, arguments, infertility, angst, pregnancy, endgame compliant (old man Steve), birth/labour, happy/hopeful ending

WC: 5k

Minors DNI

There is a point when trying for a baby where it doesn’t become fun anymore. It becomes scheduled, scientific. There are calendars and pills, alarms and appointments. It was clinical and heartbreaking.

Since the beginning of your time with the Avenger, you both knew you wanted kids, a whole load of them. But you stayed on birth control, knowing that getting pregnant too soon could destroy your budding relationship.

And as your first wedding anniversary came around, your gift to your godly husband was a cut on your inner arm where your implant had been. You spent a week in bed together, determined to fall pregnant on the first try. 

But it was now over a year later and all you had to show for it was several broken headboards and a dozen negative pregnancy tests. It weighed heavily on you both but you more so.

Thor was a god of not only thunder but fertility. He was meant to have children, an army of them, so it had to be you that was holding him back. He constantly reassured you that these things took time and that patience was essential, yet you could tell he was thinking the same thing too.

Sighing, you dropped the ovulation test in the bin. You were supposed to be at the peak of your cycle today but the single blue line on the plastic told you otherwise. You could hear your husband working out in the home gym below you. He was working out more often nowadays, trying to get out all of his frustration in a somewhat practical way.

You washed your hands slowly, delaying your exit from the bathroom. It was getting harder to face your husband each day, to see that disappointment in those blue eyes as we woke up. Occasionally, he would reach for your soft stomach as if he would be able to cup it like you were pregnant but catch himself before he could touch you.

It ripped your heart apart every time. 

Taking a deep breath, you braced yourself and left the small bathroom. The kitchen, thankfully, was empty so you were able to quietly slip to the fridge and pull out one of the nasty premade smoothies that Laura suggested.

You downed half of it and cringed at the taste. At this point you wouldn’t be surprised if it was a placebo. It was raining today, how fitting. “My love?” For being a man closer to 7’ than the average human, he certainly moved quietly. 

“Jesus Christ!” You jumped, almost dropping the bottle of vile green liquid. “Don’t scare me like that.” But he just chuckled, brushing off your words. His solid arms wrapped firmly around your wide waist and tugged you into him so he could rest his chin on the top of your head.

“I am sorry my queen, I thought you heard me come in.” You melted into his hold like you always did. Thor had magical hugs, even in the most dire of circumstances where you couldn’t see the light at the end, he brought his own. He guided you back in the beat of his heart and the warmth of his chest. These embraces were becoming all too frequent now, a constant routine before bed or after you got up. 

“Is ok.” You slurred, letting the heat of him lull you into a fuzzy headspace. A huge hand came up and cupped the back of your head so your nose pressed into his collarbone. The other slid down to your lower back, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your warm skin.

“How are you feeling today? What do you need from me?” Even in the midst of the worst fights you’ve had, Thor always made sure that you were ok, both physically and mentally. 

Reaching up, you wrapped your arms around his neck to bring him down for a soft peck to his lips. “Just you my love, I just need you.” With no effort, you were hauled up and thrown over his shoulder.

“Then you shall have me!” And he ran to your shared bedroom as you laughed.

——————

The sun was trying to break from the horizon when he awoke. The message had been short ‘come quickly, we need help’. And as much as he hated it, he had to leave you. You were still fast asleep, dreaming peacefully within the cotton sheets.

He laid a quick kiss to your temple and tucked a note onto the bedside table. Thor gazed down at you sadly, his fingers skimming your lower stomach before he forced himself to pull away, knowing that if he stayed any longer, he would not leave.

By the time you awoke, far more tired than you usually were, the sun was at its highest point in the sky and Thor was gone. 

You hauled yourself from bed, only briefly glancing at the note he had left as you sluggishly moved to the bathroom. ‘I have to be getting sick’ you thought, that was the only explanation for how utterly exhausted you felt.

A hot shower woke you up a bit but not much. As you dried yourself off, you froze. Your breasts felt firm, and very sensitive. No, it can’t be. 

With shaking hands, you opened up your phone’s calendar and nearly dropped the device in shock. Your period was almost two months late. No, don’t get your hopes up, you told yourself. Take a test, then go from there.

Admittedly, it was the messiest test you ever took considering how your entire body trembled with nerves. Deja vu washed over you as you washed your hands, the test face down on the counter beside you. Hope and despair curled in your gut, twisting around each other like snakes. Your heart wanted hope to win but your brain knew that like so many times before despair would devour the other.

Your timer was set, three minutes.

2 minutes 45 seconds It was going to be negative, just like the many times before. You were probably coming down with a flu and your cycle was off because you’re so stressed about getting pregnant.

2 minutes 24 seconds But what if it was positive? No no, it isn’t.

2 minutes Dear god it’s positive.

1 minute 30 seconds You can’t be pregnant now, Thor literally just zapped off to Asgard for god knows how long.

1 minute 4 seconds It has to be negative, why is this time any different than the other 12 times?

56 seconds But what if?

39 seconds Could it have actually worked this time?

12 seconds Why can’t time move any faster!

6 seconds Please please just let it be positive

3 seconds It’s negative, you just know it

1 second Take a deep breath, it’ll do you no good if you pass out before you can read the test

Your ears were ringing so loud you didn’t hear the alarm go off but you flipped the test anyway. Your heart stopped.

Pregnant. And Thor was gone.

——————

The months seemed to crawl on but go by quickly at the same time. You documented everything you could, from ultrasound pictures to the size of your belly each week. The commemorative photo album Sam and Bucky had given you was already filled to the brim along with a shoe box you had found in the back of your closet.

Every morning you awoke, expecting to find your husband beside you, his blue eyes wide with surprise as he watched your growing belly, maybe even crying as your little one gave a powerful kick to his palm. But every morning, without fail, you woke up alone. 

You could only hope that he was somewhere safe, that he would come home to you in one piece, hopefully in time for the birth which was fast approaching. 

“Come on, time to get up.” You muttered to your stomach, laying a hand over the top and getting a soft punch from your little thunder as you had taken to calling them. With a great heave, you lifted yourself from the bed. 

Your stance was wide in order to accommodate the heft of your stomach. They rolled underneath your palm, obviously unhappy with the sudden movement. “Yeah I know but I can’t stay in bed all day.” Slowly, you made your way out of the bedroom, your gate becoming more of a waddle the longer you were on your feet.

Stupidly, the kitchen was a floor below your bedroom and you stubbornly remained in the master suite for the comfort of Thor’s fading scent. A tinkling of bells broke your concentration.

That was the door chime. Your head whipped to the front door, expecting Bucky to be walking through for his weekly checkup but instead, it was your very tired looking husband. His broad shoulders were slouched, his back hunched over like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

The usually bright silver of his armour was dull, his red cape slashed and coated with what you hoped was mud but was probably blood. His eyes were fixed on the ground as he toed off his boots, still mindful of your rule about dirty shoes on your nice floors. “Thor?” Your voice came out as more of a gasp.

A smile came over his face and he looked up at you, blue eyes meeting yours before they dropped to your very pregnant belly. His face dropped. “Whose is it?” He snarled, tone full of anger and hatred and a hint of disgust. 

“W-what are you talking about? This is our baby.” Your arms cradled your bump protectively, and for the first time in your life, you were scared of your husband.

Thor’s shoulders rolled back like he was getting ready for a fight. “No. That thing in your belly cannot be my child. So tell me whose it is.” Your sadness and fear suddenly burned away to a white hot rage.

“How dare you.” You hissed venomously. “Get the fuck out of my house and don’t come back until you come to your fucking senses.” His frown deepened but he made no move to leave, in fact he planted his feet.

“Whose is it?” 

“Leave.” Your hand slipped to the hidden compartment on the wall, fully intending to hit the panic button on the side of it. The threat of you trying to call for help, that you were truly terrified of the man who was supposed to be protecting you, seemed to break him from his trance.

“Fine but I walk out that door and you never see me again.” 

“Go please.” Tears lined your vision as the heartbreak began to set in. “Go.” Your voice was a mere whisper now, weak and soft. But he listened. With an almost dramatic spin, he left your home, slamming the door behind him.

As soon as the house was quiet again, you crumpled, just barely catching yourself on the stairs before spiraling into a fit of sobs.

——————

The battle had been long and fatal. So many had died on the fields before him. He felt like his skin was constantly coated in dried blood, the iron smell invading his senses during every waking moment. But more than that, Thor felt an overwhelming sense of guilt.

He had left you behind in the most trying time of your relationship, a time when you needed all of his support and love. He knew you were struggling more than you let on, consumed by such a hatred for your body. He watched you slowly fall into yourself, your mind falling into a dark place that he couldn’t always bring you back from.

He had been gone for almost a year by his count, trapped on a distant planet surrounded by those who wished to kill him. He dreamt of you every night. Maybe the distance could reignite that passion you had at the beginning.

When Brunhilde told him that the war was over and that he could go home, Thor wasted no time. He abandoned his comrades immediately using Stormbreaker to bring him home.

Relief washed over him like a wave when he stepped back over the familiar threshold. His heart pounded with excitement as he removed his shoes but then he saw you and he shattered. There was no doubt you were pregnant.

He could sense it in his bones. But it could not have been his child in your womb, it had been too long since he had been gone. 

Rage infected his mind like a plague, destroying his rational mind which screamed at him that you would never betray him like that. His veins came to light with lightning as if he was about to go back into battle. 

He watched fear grow in the eyes he adored so much but he could not stop the words from escaping his mouth. 

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you with some man, tangled together in the heat of passion. Insecurity had been building like a wave within the god since the first negative test. He knew you were fertile, fuck he could smell it from across the house. But month after month, he failed.

Maybe a god was never supposed to have children with a human but he couldn’t give up, not when he loved you so much. You were the only person he could ever see having kids with so it broke him to come home and see you so perfectly, beautifully pregnant by another man.

So he ran, as far as he could. 

It didn’t surprise him that he found himself on Captain America’s doorstep. They had been kindred souls in their prime, two men with intertwined destinies. The door opened before he could knock. “Come on in, I’ll put on a pot of coffee.” Steve was much smaller but Thor supposed that came with aging. 

The house was quant, much like yours but the furniture and decorations were dated. Steve led him further into the domicile, directing him towards the kitchen. Thor mindlessly took a seat at the small breakfast nook, forcing his large body into one of the small stools.

Steve was quiet at first, simply going through the motions of making a pot of coffee for them both, letting him stew in his thoughts. Maybe he deserved it, after all so much of your relationship had been spent apart. He had left you alone for months at a time, it was only natural that you would find comfort in someone else.

“So, what happened?” He asked in a way like he already knew the answer. 

“Y/N’s pregnant.” He stated factually.

Steve nodded, taking a sip of his own coffee. “I heard, congratulations by the way.” Thor scowled at the younger man as his grip tightened on the mug, threatening to shatter the porcelain.

“How can you say that to me, that child isn’t mine.” Steve’s blue eyes narrowed harshly, both accentuating the wrinkles on his face and making him look decades younger. The silence spoke louder than any of his words ever could.

The anger, disappointment and genuine sadness in his eyes made the god look away. “I was gone for a year and when I returned, she was with child! What else was I meant to think, that somehow she became impregnated magically?” Steve’s grading eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Thor, you’ve only been gone six, maybe seven months.” The room became icy all of a sudden. 

“What.”

“That baby is yours and you just abandoned the mother of your child.” The wooden legs of his chair screamed against the laminate flooring as Thor suddenly stood. 

“No, no. I was gone for a year.” He insisted but his voice wavered, his confidence fading and the reality of what he had just done finally settling in. Steve’s gaze flicked to the wall behind Thor, his aged eyes focusing on something hanging there. Thor spun and his blood turned to ice.

It was the end of March. He had left at the beginning of September, the wind still carrying the warmth of summer but with the bitter bite of winter. Leaves still clung to the trees, their edges only barely fraying with oranges and reds. “It’s not possible.” He whispered as if trying to convince himself rather than the other man.

“We have lost time before, why is it so impossible to believe that it has happened again.” Steve said with a soft tone. Thor shook his head.

“What have I done?” Steve’s withered came to rest on his broad shoulder in a comforting touch.

“Hopefully nothing that can’t be undone.”

——————

The house was silent and dark, the warmth seemingly sucked out. A cool breeze blew through an open window in the dining room. “My love?” Like he had done hundreds of times before, Thor placed one foot in front of the other, avoiding the perpetually creaky floorboards.

Silence answered him. 

Fear gripped his heart tightly, a fist slowly closing around it, making his chest ache. “Y/N.” He was more firm now, needing to hear your voice even if it was just to scream at him and curse his name. He began to climb the stairs, his hand curling around the bannister, his knuckles turning pale with the force.

His foot slipped on something wet. Looking down, he expected the dark stain of blood on the hardwood but the liquid was clear, mucus-like. It smelt of birth.

——————

Sobs wracked your body almost painfully as you quickly fell into hysterics. Your hand clutched at the wall, barely holding on. You held our belly with your other hand, your little thunder spinning wildly beneath your palm. “It’s ok, it’s ok.” You chanted, admittedly more to yourself than your child.

Your vision started to swim as you struggled to fill your already compressed lungs through your gasping breaths. But you weren’t calming down, in fact, your stomach had begun to cramp and lightning shot up your back. 

“Oh fuck.” A sudden gush of liquid from between your legs solidified your theory. “This is the best time to go into labour.” You snarled. On shaky legs, you rose back to your feet, overly mindful of still being on the stairs. Quickly, you pressed the small panic button which would send an alert to both Bucky and Sam.

“Now you just stay in there for a while, you hear?” But you knew it was useless to try and convince them so slowly, carefully, you waddled down the rest of the stairs, admittedly taking a few minutes to catch your breath on each step.

Your chest ached painfully at the thought you had to do this alone, without your husband. But the look of absolute disgust on his face turned your heart to stone. With added determination, you reached your target, Thor’s armchair. 

The plush fabric was soft enough to cradle your incredibly sore body and let you sit up in a somewhat comfortable position that alleviated some pain. You could not allow your mind to wander, not now. Another cramp rolled through your stomach.

First, you get this parasite out of you and then you hunt down a god. 

By the time the two ex-Avengers burst through your front door, guns blazing, your contractions were barely minutes apart. “It’s time.” You gasped between bouts of pain. Sam acted first.

He helped you stand, supporting your weight in his arms as he guided you towards the open front door. When the pair of you reached the front steps, Bucky had taken off in a panic, ripping through the house to find your hospital bag and the carseat for the baby.

“Come on mama, only a few more steps and then you can rest.” He kept his voice calm as he guided you but another spark of pain made you scream.

“Shut the fuck up you star spangled bitch. Which one of us is having a 10 pound watermelon shot out of their cooter.” He looked at you with wide eyes, truly shocked by your vulgarity. “God Sam I’m so sorry. I- Jesus Fucking Christ!” You hunched over as another contraction slammed into you like a truck.

Your hand tightened around his to the point where he winced from the pain, but like the smart man he was, he kept his mouth shut. “Got the bag, let’s go!” The soldier sprinted past you in order to shove everything into Sam’s truck before he quickly wrapped a metal arm around your plump waist and hauled you forward.

“Bucky put me down! I can walk!”

“Not fast enough.” He said, anxiety obviously lacing his tone. You attempted to squirm from his hold but you quickly exhausted yourself and let him carry you to the car.

The rest of the trip was a blur of pain and shouting, but not only from you. Sam and Bucky also contributed to the insane amount of noise in the car. You were put in a private room in the back of the hospital considering that Captain America was your delivery partner, and given all of the best amenities but none of it helped when your little thunder decided to make their entrance.

After 13 hours of being in labour, Astrid Natalia Thorsdottir was born. 

“Jesus, why does she look so weird?” You glared at Bucky who had an incredibly puzzled look on his face as he watched your daughter settle to sleep in your arms. Sam smacked him upside the head for you.

“She was just pushed out of a very small hole, you’d look even worse if you went through the same thing.” And just like that, Sam was in your bad books again. 

“Will you two stop it? She’s absolutely perfect.” You smiled down at your little girl, gently stroking her chubby cheek with your finger. Her faint eyebrows scrunched but she remained asleep, completely milk drunk. Already, you could see her father in her face, the shape of her jaw, the startling blue of her eyes. 

God, it hurt so much. He abandoned you and yet he still haunted you in the form of something you craved so deeply. You could not stop the tears from gathering, slowly filling up behind your eyes. You couldn’t cry, please don’t cry. You begged yourself but it was of no use.

Arms wrapped tightly around Astrid, you grieved the relationship you had lost. How could he so easily believe that you would stray, break those vows you held so dear?  Your chest shook with silent sobs, jostling Astrid but she did not wake. A comforting hand touched your shoulder as Sam spoke up.

“What happened?” His voice was level if not a little soft, trying to comfort the blow of the question, or more likely, the answer. You shook your head, unable to tell them.

But Bucky, being the observant man he was, quickly came to his own conclusion. “Does it have anything to do with the fact that Thor’s shoes were by the front door but he wasn’t there and you never asked us to call him?” The hitch in your breath was the answer he was looking for. “What did he do?”

The room fell silent for a moment while both men stared at you intently. “He said Astrid wasn’t his.”

“Right, Sam, we’re going to kill a god today.” You sighed and grabbed Bucky’s wrist before he could even take one step forward. As much as you would love for them to defend you, it would probably result in not only a massive rift between the very few heroes left and leave the two of them in their own hospital beds.

“Please, not now. This is not the time nor place for any of that. I just have to pick myself up and move on, that’s it.”

“But-“ Bucky started but you cut him off with a glare.

“No, we deal with it later and like adults. Today is about her.” You gestured to your baby and his eyes softened.

“Fine but if he upsets you again, I’m not holding back. I will track him down and destroy that blond idiot.” 

“There is no need to track anyone down, I am already here.” Thor looked thoroughly embarrassed and heartbroken as he stood in the doorway. You could see that he was deliberately making himself smaller, like he always did when you were mad at him or he did something wrong, In this case, it was both. 

Bucky’s eyes met yours with a silent question, you shook your head. Stepping forward Sam blocked the god’s view of you and Astrid with his body. “I think you should leave.” Your chest warmed with how determined your friends were to protect you both but the part of you that loved your husband no matter what, screamed out to him.

Your voice was soft but all of them heard you. “It’s ok. Will you give us a minute? We need to talk.” Thor curled in on himself even more as a deep blush spread across his cheeks. Good, you wanted him to be ashamed of what he had done. 

Astrid shifted in your arms, a small cry escaping her lips so your attention was pulled away from the god and the soldiers, allowing the former to set such hateful glares on the man, he felt genuinely terrified. The pair of grey and brown eyes were alight with a fire he had never seen before, well more like he had never been on the receiving end.

But he would endure thousands of beatings and harsh glares if it meant he could be right back next to you again. He pleaded silently that they would let him pass.

Sam conceded first with a kiss to your temple and a cold look at Thor, he left. Bucky followed a few seconds after, shoulder checking the god with his metal arm as he passed. Thor barely moved but he got the message. 

“What’s her name?” Astrid was fully awake now, one of her arms waving about as she had partially escaped the wrap she was in. The smile that came over your face as you looked at her made Thor’s heart skip a beat.

Her small hand wrapped around your index finger when you placed it in front of her, her grip surprisingly tight for a baby only a few hours old. “Astrid.” You replied before you laid a small kiss to her soft forehead. 

Thor beamed internally. Maybe he still had a chance. “I’m sorry.” He said after a moment but you did not meet his gaze.

“You’ll have to do better than that. I cannot believe that you would think I cheated on you!” You hissed caused Thor to flinch.

“W-well I believed that I had been gone for a year-“ He tried to explain but you cut him off.

“And your first thought wasn’t ‘oh maybe I counted wrong’ but that I broke our vows? Do you know what that makes me think?” He shook his head, fear creeping through his veins. “It makes me think that you were so quick to jump on that thought because you cheated first.” 

“No! No! Never! Please believe me! I could never! I love you more than anything!” He sank to his knees, begging you to believe him. 

“Then why didn’t you believe me?”

“I don’t know.” Your heart dropped but you quickly steeled your face and tucked Astrid to your breast, shielding her from his view.

“Thor. If you can’t trust me enough to believe that I wouldn’t cheat on you then I don’t think this marriage can continue.” 

“No please!” He cried, his hands gripping at the bedspread in a desperate move. “I cannot be without you. I need you and Astrid please.”

The tears had returned in a tidal wave, streaming down your full cheeks and wetting the neck of your hospital gown. “Then why?”

His head dropped to the mattress as if he were in prayer. “Because I was scared. Scared that I could never give you children and that some other human man could. That you would leave me because of that. I couldn’t live with myself if I kept you from having the thing you have always desired.” His voice was muffled against the thick fabric but you heard him all the same.

“It is the one thing I am meant to do and I failed you.” His own tears were falling now, but he was too cowardly to let you see them, so he kept his head down. A squeak from your daughter forced you to look down on her.

She was gazing up at you with those big blue eyes you knew so well, the eyes you had fallen in love with from the first moment you saw them. You could already see her growing up before you. Her life was in your hands, how she was raised, who she was raised by, and all you could think was that she deserves to have her father around.

“I can’t forgive you, not now. It ripped me apart when you said all those things. I was waiting for you for months, so eager to have you back in my arms to begin this new chapter together but you destroyed that hope.” Thor’s fingers curled into the scratchy sheets as he prepared himself for your rejection and your anger, but it never came. “And yet, I can’t make myself walk away. I need you more than anyone I have ever needed before and I know that I couldn’t live with myself if Astrid and I stayed away.”

With that, Thor’s body sagged like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His body trembled with relieved sobs. “But we need time and I think some counseling. We’ll be ok, I promise.” You cooed, prying your hand from Astrid’s grip to run it through his short hair. Thor nodded in agreement, not yet able to speak.

And that’s how Bucky found you hours later, Thor kneeling at your beside, your hand on his head and Astrid in your arms as you all slept, getting some much needed rest.

Marvel Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Join my taglist!

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @km-ffluv

Marvel

@lokiandbuckysdoll @andreasworlsboring101 @pretty-npeach @luvvvjada @cakesandtom @elizabethmidnight2017

Thor 

@raajali3 @honkytonkbabe @nini-trash-forever @itsbqueenthings @mandyzsick101 @galaxydj654 @getoutofthere @blasianbitch @theweepingvulcan91 @springdandelixn @valen-yamyam16 @ladyburberry @im-a-satanic-ritual @l9ckheed @tinyinfluencerharmony @r0si5 @kittycatkrissa @justanotherpasserby-blog @goobysgoobers @xoxokiaraaxoxo @stabmemaybe @kobaltdragon

[givemea-dam-break]

5 Times George Missed Lucy + 1 Time He Admitted It

a/n: this was co-written by the phenomenal @ikeasupremacy i quite literally had the time of my life writing this with you, and i think we broke our own hearts quite a few times during the process. we really, really hope you enjoy it &lt;3

warnings: big sad (i beg, listen), language, spoilers for the end of the hollow boy words: 5k+ taglist: @neewtmas @waitingforthesunrise @wellgoslowly @irisesforyoureyes @aayeroace @flashbackwhenyoumetme @ettadear @ella23116 @mirrorballdickinson @magicandmaybe

5. More Chores

The basement was too cold, but George persevered with the chores. If he turned the thermostat up, Lockwood would probably have him beheaded, meaning he had no choice but to grin and bear it.

It was meant to be early spring for heaven’s sake, but he was stuck in the depths of the Earth to do the cleaning, while Anthony Bloody Lockwood was off frolicking in the sun with Holly to Satchel’s and Arif’s and God knows where else! Probably buying doughnuts or something! The favouritism at Portland Row was blatant that day.

He carefully laid Lockwood and Co.’s dozens of chains out across the hardwood floor, with some oil and a rag sitting on his desk, ready for Lucy. While she oiled them, he’d polish the rapiers and make sure they had enough salt bombs and lavender bundles. Not the worst job by far, but he would’ve definitely preferred to be outside or better yet, in the air-conditioned, cherry-blossom windowed Archives.

Heaving a sigh, he stepped over the thick iron links and trudged to the bottom of the stairs that led up, up, up into the kitchen.  

“Luce!” he called. “Need you to come oil the- ”

Oh. 

How stupid. Within a moment, his shoulders had sagged as he remembered; Lucy was gone. He suddenly became very aware of how alone he was in the house, the gentle hum of peaceful silence suddenly the disconcerting emptiness of a black hole.

Lucy had been gone for at least a week now, so how could he forget? He’d cleaned everything once without her already! She had been careful not to disturb anyone when she left, but George was a notoriously light sleeper. He had wordlessly sat in his room the morning she crept out, knowing she was gone for good as soon as he heard the third step creak. He heard everything, but he didn’t move an inch. He just listened as she crept out of the house that morning. Even though he didn’t do anything about it, he knew just as well as anyone that she was gone. And she wasn’t coming back.

A self-pitying laugh tore through his lips, resounding in his solitude, a moment meant for him alone. She had left them. Her absence was impossible not to notice, filling him with something distinctly empty. Hollow. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. A bittersweet nostalgia for something that hadn’t really left. Call it cheesy, but she’d started actually accepting him for who he was, and then she left.

She left.

For a moment longer, he lingered there, staring up at the spiralling stairs with a half-glare. Daylight glared back at him, causing him to squint and furrow his brows in frustration while the sun tried its best to burn his eyes right out of the sockets.

As he stared into the sun for whatever self-inflicted reason, a single quiet thought made him soften his gaze in defeat. He had nobody to be angry at but himself.

Turning with a dejected sigh, he rested his gaze upon the rapiers and the chains.

Once more, he’d have to do them both. 

4. Food Gone Cold

Silence. Terrible, uncomfortable silence.

George stared down at the food that he’d spent the better part of an hour making, and a pit formed his stomach. There was Lockwood with his meal, Holly with hers, food left over, and an empty plate. Just sat there. Waiting. It haunted the dinner table more than any Source ever could.

When would he stop doing this? Lately, every single meal he cooked ended up with four portions, even though there were only three of them there. He could already see the concealed remorse on Holly’s face as she thought about stuffing yet another spare portion in the fridge in hopes that someone would eat it later. Usually, no one did.

The thought of it apparently made Lockwood “sick to his stomach” and, well, George couldn’t say he was nauseous, but he had definitely lost his appetite when he saw the leftover food in the pan, regardless of whatever it was that he’d made.

Worse still, he should’ve realised the moment that he’d set it down that it was wrong. After Lucy had left, they’d begrudgingly swapped the thinking cloth out for a new one, folding it up carefully and placing it on top of the fridge, scribbling back on George’s stray research from the last, any pending tasks from the last one, and new doodles had taken residence everywhere: George insulting Lockwood; Lockwood’s loopy handwriting forming a shopping list or writing reminders for everyone. Hell, even Holly had started adding to it, normally with little smiley faces or cartoony flowers, but it was something at least. 

Then there was Lucy’s spot.

No one dared sit in her seat. It felt like an action that they would be scolded for, by either Lockwood or some incorporeal voice that was haunting them, like a strange shared conscience between the three of them. Maybe it would even be Lucy’s voice, scolding them like she did when, every day for a week or two, Lockwood would sit in her place just to annoy her. She would jokingly tell him off every time, and force him off of the seat in a light-hearted push-and-shove. A sweet memory came to mind of Lockwood falling off the chair, and they had all doubled over laughing until their ribs pulled and their cheeks ached, the kind where anything sets you off again. A sweet memory indeed.

And, so, there was a portion of the thinking cloth that was entirely blank. Not even George’s messy and rushed research passed the invisible line that marked Lucy’s section. Maybe a mark of respect, of not wanting to let her go, of fruitless ambition and silent mourning.

Even the biscuits. The biscuit rotation was all messed up. With Lucy around, they would know who had last taken a biscuit on their little mental rotation, a fine-tuned seventh sense (after being a Sensitive, naturally), but every time George reached for a custard cream, he mentally hesitated as a ghost of Lucy’s voice went to whisper in his ear, “Have I had my biscuit yet, George?”

He wanted to say something; he was desperate to end this stifling, choking silence that plagued them all like a hand to his throat, a gag in his mouth. What could he even say? Jokes often ended up turning sour nowadays. Holly had the (albeit little) decency to give George a polite laugh at the predicament, but on the other hand, Lockwood would simply sit and stare at the empty plate as if he could summon Lucy back to her plate if he just thought about her hard enough.

George had already tried that. It didn’t work. 

3. Patience Lost

Lockwood was like a cat, George observed. When he had a goal, he was a machine; a well-oiled, slit-eyed, prowling machine. He waited for his prey, and he attacked just as gracefully. He was always waiting, watching for his next move, the next opportunity, with careful focus, and George could see why Lucy liked him. It was a skill neither he or Lucy possessed, yet one they both admired. All the same, he thought Lucy was bonkers for it.

When Lockwood had no purpose, he was a cat stretched out in the sun, ambling with no real purpose and slinking around in his suit and tie, waiting for the next thing to do. George generally found this habit of his incredibly pointless anyway, but with Lucy gone it was just worse. For the last year, Lockwood had the goal of thinking about Lucy.

If she were here, Lockwood would be moving. He’d be yelling at her from the foot of the stairs to turn her music down before marching up and doing it himself. He’d be prancing around, animatedly talking about the latest gossip from his magazine and how it was so important that they knew what colour of dress Penelope Fittes wore to a meeting with Steve Rotwell. Green meant it was about new gear, purple about the future of their agencies, blah, blah, blah. George had no mind for it.

But now? Lockwood slouched in his armchair in the library, flicking through a magazine, entirely devoid of emotion. His freakish poker-face had come out strongly as his eyes darted from line to line, occasionally lifting a finger to flip the page he was on. A cold mug of hot chocolate sat abandoned by his side that George had, yet again, accidentally made out of pure muscle memory.

Lucy always drank a hot chocolate with him. 

George was now completely out of his book. His eyes remained on the pages, reading the sentences over and over again, but they weren't what was running through his head. What would Lucy be doing right now if she were here with them? No, he couldn’t let himself linger on that thought. He tried to bring his attention back to his book.

“However, what must be considered is that the wedding band itself might ngo fda bfgn tj Sorgfn. Teh womha wsa llysmengia attached nto go teh ewfifng band bug hre hgusadn. Hre source, sj tja ragen sons folsa ojn, wfg npt wutg hwt bones, bgk tkh husbnfks. This wfd a frveol...”

She’d have complained that the fire was dying down and added a log to it, her frame sinking into the seat near Lockwood yet again to continue her new crochet project of the week, as the calming click-clack of the plastic needles against each other melded wonderfully with the crackling of the (now revived) fireplace. A song would be stuck in her head, and she’d quietly hum along to it, none the wiser that George and Lockwood could both hear her. 

“However, what must be considered is that the wedding band itself might not have been the Source. Teh womha wsa llysmengia attached nto go teh ewfifng band bug hre hgusadn. Hre source, sj tja ragen sons folsa ojn, wfg not with her bones, bgk tkh husbnfks. This wfd a frveol...”

She would have called them all boring for just sitting there, and gotten out the chess board to entertain herself. She was always freakishly good at that, George recalled with a slight smile. There were quite a few times where Lockwood had gotten so frustrated at her that he resigned and stormed off into his bedroom, leaving George to get absolutely throttled by Lucy every time. Every. Single. Time.

“However, what must be considered is that the wedding band itself might not have been the Source. The woman was sentimentally attached to not the wedding band, but her husband. Her source, as the agents soon found out, was not with her bones, but the husband’s. This was a revolutionary discovery for many reasons, one being the realisation…”

George gave up on the book, gently closing the hardback cover with a soft thump.

At the time, nothing could’ve annoyed him more, but George was bored of winning chess games now. Lockwood was somehow even worse than he was (and that was saying something), meaning the games lasted forever. Neither of them had the patience to sit for hours going back and forth. Lucy did.

That was the refreshing thing about games with her. It wasn’t relevant if the game lasted fifteen minutes or two hours, just sitting there with her gave the game an entirely more interesting feel. Especially when she swore under her breath after a bad move. George was a sore loser, and a gloating winner, but Lucy always took her losses humbly and her wins even more so.

Unless she was playing Holly. When Lucy won against Holly, it was as if the Heavens had shone a spotlight onto her face with how proud her smile was.

Lockwood missed that smile, and in some (pretty fucking irritating) way, George thought he did too.

It didn’t matter now. He’d have to deal with Lockwood’s doubled pawns and forgotten rooks, which was much less preferable. They would have to bear the silence of nobody humming as they crocheted, painfully watching a chess board gather dust, and having to live in the house that was no longer a home.

2. Ducks in the Wash

George could hear Lockwood rattling around in the basement incessantly, and he could only sigh. This all over again?

Surely there were no more socks missing - every single wash, Lockwood checked, and every single time he came back empty handed. It wasn’t like the washing machine was going to gobble them up. (And there was definitely no need to lift up the whole washing machine.) However, Lockwood always folded the washing better than George. That was the one reconciliation about the whole thing, thank goodness. Once George heard the telltale thump of the washing machine being on solid ground again, he assumed Lockwood was folding the clothes. Feeling less worried that Lockwood was going to break the washing machine this time around, he unpaused the telly and kept watching Pointless, or whatever crappy gameshow he had chosen to put on that day.

It wasn’t long before Lockwood came trudging up the basement stairs and through to the living room, a pile of neatly folded clothes in his arms. But it wasn’t the neatness of it (usually they were folded haphazardly until Holly came along and fixed it up) that had George pausing the telly once more. It was the bright blue thing on top.

“Lucy’s,” Lockwood said, not even trying to conceal the miserable look on his face. “She left a sock.”

George wondered if Lucy had noticed that it was missing. Unlikely. She had so many pairs of socks, all the same shade of tell-tale royal blue, she could probably provide a few dozen to each family on Portland Row and the next few streets over and still have enough for the next two wash cycles. Besides, it was such a small thing that she’d never notice. She’d never. Never. She wouldn’t have. It’s just a sock. She’d probably lost another one and she had perfect pairs again.

But, an irrational part of George couldn’t help but blurt out, “Are you going to call her?”

There wasn’t really any need to call her. She’d survive without one bright blue sock, even if there were cute little silicone ducks on the sole of this one to keep her from slipping. But George found himself wanting to hear her voice through the phone, strangely enough. The way she said “Hello?” in her Northerner accent on the phone, her little inquisitive chirp, even though she usually knew who it was, always used to make him laugh, and he was sure it would now.

It was clear Lockwood wanted to call, what with the twitch of his fingers, and the way he longingly stared at the ducky sock. It was easy to read him after a while of knowing him, and as he observed Lockwood, he saw a strange, stone-like look on his face. He knew that expression. The barrage of emotion he was holding behind a facade of stoic presence. The way he didn’t blink while he looked at the piece of fabric in his hand, not once. His eyebrows furrowed so slightly it could even be mistaken for natural.

George knew that expression. He saw it in the mirror every day.

“No.”, Lockwood muttered breathlessly.

He placed the washing down, balanced precariously on the back of the sofa, threatening to tip over. George had bigger things on his mind than the laundry, observing it as it teetered in the balance, but his mind was in a different place as he watched the washing basket lean forward.

He simply remained on the sofa, entirely sunken in his armchair, feeling as frozen as a marble-cut statue, and staring at the sock in Lockwood’s hands. He couldn’t take his eyes off it, as if it held some piece of Lucy that was finally attainable now that they had found it - something that could connect the three of them once again. For a moment, he wished that you could have Sources for a real person.

It’s just a sock, George told himself. There was nothing outright special about it and there never would be.

So what was their deal?

What had them reeling over a sock of all things? Was it because they could both easily imagine Lucy’s laughter as she tried to skid over the kitchen floor, only for her socks to keep her from sliding? Those stupid ducks on the bottom of her socks? Was it because of all things to have been left by Lucy accidentally, this was it? This was the last thing they had of her in the house? A literal sock?

Then again, it wasn't unwelcome. It simply brought with it a reminder of the gaping hole in their household, and dragging behind it the ugly emotions of guilt, and the hurt of a betrayal.

“I’ll wait to give it back to her,” Lockwood murmured in the same tone.

But they both knew the time would never come. Lucy wasn’t coming back, no matter how tightly Lockwood held onto the sock now, knuckles turning white. No amount of socks stolen by the washing machine would bring her knocking on the front door, or bursting through and demanding them back. The sock would simply sit, gathering dust and harbouring feelings that had no need to be felt. 

But George still agreed, holding onto whatever tiny shred of hope he still had that she would come back. George knew as well as anyone else that it was fruitless, but even he didn’t have the heart to extinguish the hope that their paths would cross again.

It felt like something was destroying him though. He had gotten to a point where it was getting unbearable, the pain of all the reminders of her everywhere, it gnawed at him and ate away at his focus, at his time, at his brain, at his happiness. He should’ve put into words, and he knew that inside him, but that would destroy all the work he had put into coping with it; for both Lockwood and Holly. Lucy was an unnamed ticking bomb, ready to cause an explosion at 35 Portland Row anytime soon, and George was reaching his limit of how many more reminders of Lucy he could take.

The washing fell over. Once upon a time, Lucy and him would have laughed together over the thought of watching Lockwood fold it all again. They would’ve giggled until their cheeks were on fire, their ribs felt tangled in knots, shrouded by the ecstasy of simple delights.

“Lockwood? The washing’s just fallen over.” George called, entirely monotone.

1. Someone Familiar

The early spring air clung to George as he stepped through the front door, shopping bags in hand. Really, London had no excuse to still be so cold, but, alas, he still shivered as he kicked the door shut and placed the bags down. The warmth of the hallway was incredible, and he could’ve just stood there forever, feeling his skin grow warm. It was only when he eventually tugged off his jacket that he heard the laughter.

He peeked into the living room, where Lockwood sat in his armchair, and Holly on the sofa beside someone else whose hand she held and squeezed. The sight filled George with warmth. Holly’s last relationship… Well, it had ended badly, and she was a wreck for a little while, so to see her happy now felt like something, finally, was going right. George was genuinely happy for Holly, and for everyone. They really needed something to go right, all of them did.

He hadn’t realised the ache in his chest until his eyes lifted to the girl whose hand she held.

How did he not notice? The bobbed brown hair, the wooly jumper and denim skirt, it was…

“Oh, George!” Lockwood said, grinning as he set his mug of tea down. “You’re back! Hope you don’t mind, Holly brought her girlfriend over for a bit.”

George tried to move, but he found himself stuck in place, simply staring at the back of her head. Surely he was dreaming. None of this was real. It couldn’t be her. No, he was still sleeping soundly in his bed and his alarm hadn’t gone off yet. It was a lie. This couldn’t be real. A dream. A nightmare.

But- But, still, however he hated to admit it, there was hope in him. She had come home. She was back. She was here. She had finally come back to them after all these horrible months and he would never let Luc-

“Lucy” turned and flashed a grin at George, and he felt a little pang of nausea in his throat. This girl, she wasn’t Lucy. He’d mistaken her just because of an outfit and a haircut. How stupid of him. As he scanned her up and down, within a matter of seconds he had noticed the pristine white trainers she wore rather than plasm-covered, chunky black boots, her jumper was purple instead of blue. Her eyebrows were prominent, pointing upwards and giving the face an inherently sharp aura about it, combined with long features that he could never even imagine on Lucy’s round face.

He saw it all clear as day, all of it. The freckles Lucy lacked and the blue eyes she didn’t have, the mascara-caked lashes and the pointed chin.

“You’re George?” she asked in a high-pitched tone that Lucy would’ve definitely later made fun of. “Hol’s told me all about you.” 

Lucy would make fun of the nickname too.

He felt insanely stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he should’ve realised sooner - she had been introduced as Holly’s girlfriend for Heaven’s sake! There was a higher chance of Lockwood and Kipps dating than there was Lucy and Holly. But, he would’ve preferred Lucy over whoever this was. He didn’t hold anything against this (probably lovely) girl, who just coincidentally managed to look uncannily like Lucy from the behind, but George couldn’t help but bite back a sob.

The bittersweet lemon-curd hope now tasted rotten and acidic in his mouth. The taste of his idiocy coated his tongue and twisted his insides, and he hated every moment of it. He hated that for a moment he’d believed it to be her, that he had been ready to smile and accept her back without a word’s notice. He hated himself for having hope, and he hated Lucy for leaving, and he was entirely ready to be sick to his stomach.

He was impressed he managed a nod in her general direction, before abandoning the shopping bags on the floor and storming upstairs. Up, up, up, until he found himself in the doorway of the attic bedroom. The door was forced open, and he stared inside the stripped down room, the same way she’d left it, with her Blu-tack stains still on the walls and a leftover Polaroid of the three of them to the right of the bed. He couldn’t help but stare at the photo, as a tonne of weight settled on his shoulders as he stood unsettlingly alone in the attic bedroom. The weight of Lucy’s memory, perhaps. Because that’s what had made him feel so terrible these last few months, wasn’t it? It was never just throwing away the food, or being bored with a chess game, or seeing a sock with ducks on it, or any of it. Everywhere he looked, he saw Lucy, but he didn’t have her at his side, bickering with him and making her little remarks, lifting his spirit a percentile at a time, and dropping him down to ground level after he finally felt valued and appreciated by someone, after he found a friend who made him laugh until he couldn’t anymore, even though he absolutely hated her sometimes.

He had never hated Lucy Carlyle more than that moment.

He flung his clothes off the vanity chair, mad that he’d even had the gall to put them in this room, and sat on the bed, trying to arrange his thoughts. 

It was like cutting himself open to admit that he missed Lucy. This girl he’d detested for months; this girl he’d slowly learned to appreciate, and even cherish. He looked for her in every room of this house - the little crocheted coasters she had made, her abandoned mugs in the cupboard with awful sayings on them, the honey jar in the kitchen that only she had used for her tea.

Hell, even whenever he took out his favourite mug, because she had accidentally chipped it her first week there, and George had sworn he would never talk to her again after that, decreeing it on the Thinking Cloth with so many swears that he lost count.

Every moment of regret, of sadness, of longing he had felt since her leaving seemed to add up and show itself proudly to him now, sending him into a rabbit hole of falling into emotional turmoil. The solitude of the basement every month, the quiet of the evenings without the click clack of a crochet needle, the way his socks were never mixed up with hers anymore, the way nobody stopped him from researching until 5 in the morning-

Fuck.

George sprinted to the little bathroom and unloaded the contents of his stomach into the toilet. When his quaking body had finished purging the contents of his (again) too-large breakfast, he crumpled onto the floor beside the bowl. The sour taste of bile was heavy on his tongue, and it slicked along the sides of his throat.

He looked up at the abandoned room around him. Just the sight of its sorry state was enough to tempt him back into throwing his face over the toilet bowl once more, but he resisted. He leaned his head against the cool tile behind him, trying to hold back the tears in his eyes, the mucus in his throat mixing awfully with the vile taste in his mouth.

Lockwood had come upstairs at this point, the door being thrust open as he rushed to George’s side. His expression was pained, as he looked at George with concern in his eyes, but a resigned light to them as well.

“You’re okay,” was all he said.

0. Confession

Moonlight streamed through the attic window, splitting across the clothes-covered floor in beams of silver. It was a peaceful kind of light - the sort that would have Lucy standing by any window in the house, staring longingly up at the sky. She always spoke about how she missed the stars, stars that glittered for her back home but were now hidden by the dozens of ghostlamps scattered across the city, and the haze of pollution in the city.

As George sat on the edge of her bed alongside Lockwood, he wondered if Lucy was looking up at the moon now, too.

Oh, the horrible feeling of knowing they shared a sky but not a roof.

Lockwood heaved a sigh, playing with the polaroid in his hand. He’d plucked it off the wall not long ago and had taken to staring at it, occasionally brushing his thumb gently over where Lucy was. Maybe he thought it was like a genie’s lamp, that if he rubbed it three times some otherworldly being would come and grant their wish of bringing her home. 

No genie appeared, no wishes were granted, and Lucy didn’t return.

George remembered the day that photo had been taken. Lucy had taken the last jam doughnut, the one he had wanted, and they had argued the entirety of breakfast. Holly had trotted into the kitchen, polaroid camera in hand, grinning about how she’d found it in a charity shop and had to buy it. She wanted her first photo with it to be of her friends, the agents of Lockwood and Co., but no matter how much she and Lockwood tried, George and Lucy wouldn’t stop arguing. So there was Lockwood, smiling, albeit awkwardly, between George, who looked like he was about to implode with anger - anger he now saw as an overreaction, even if she was a thief - and Lucy, whose cheeks were flushed pink, as she waved the half-eaten doughnut in the air. The camera caught the moment some of the jam in the middle had dribbled out onto her brand new jumper.

“I thought it was her, too, at first, you know,” Lockwood said after what felt like years of silence. “Holly’s girlfriend. I thought it was Lucy as well.”

With a shrug, George said, “Doesn’t matter now.”

“You miss her, and that’s okay.”

“I do not miss her.”

But it was a lie. That’s all George had been doing since she left, wasn’t it? Lying to himself and to everyone else that he didn’t miss her.

He had hated Lucy for so long. From when she had first joined the company and the few months that followed. Then after she left them, giving some bullshit excuse and a secret escape. But he had never allowed himself to miss her, not really. He had only burdened himself with the memory of her, looking for her in anything he could find but not allowing himself to grieve the girl who hadn’t even died.

His fingers hurt from clutching the duvet cover so hard. “Maybe I miss her a little.”

Lockwood’s laugh was breathy, filled with tears he wouldn’t dare shed. “You can give up with the pride, George. She’s not here to make fun of you.”

“But you are.”

The words resonated between them both, and for a moment George truly realised how alone they were. Yes, Holly was there daily, mourning Lucy’s resignation in her own detached way, but George and Lockwood… Lucy had been everything to Lockwood, and somewhat less than that for George. They were a trio. George couldn’t even remember the agency before Lucy, so now it felt like a machine missing a cog - it didn’t function properly, and wouldn’t until it was put back into place.

“I’d never make fun of you for this.” Lockwood’s smile was nowhere to be found. Not in the corners of his lips or the dark of his eyes. It was as if it had been torn from him the minute Lucy stepped out the door for the last time. “I miss her, too.”

Of course Lockwood did. Missing Lucy was second nature to him. Any time she’d gone off on a case by herself he had missed her. Hell, he probably missed her when she went to bed a few floors above him. But this was unfamiliar territory for George. He wasn’t used to missing people. Not his parents who still lived in London, who occasionally visited and checked in on how things were going. Not his siblings, who were also still nearby muscling on with their careers. He’d never experienced loss like Lockwood and Lucy had.

Was that why it felt like he had been hit by a ten-tonne brick? He hated this feeling more than he’d ever hated anything.

“She’s not coming back,” George said, blinking away the sting in his eyes. “We’ll cope. We have to.”

But, staring at the room she once lived in, straining to try and feel any remnant of her presence, he wished that the genie would finally appear.

[kaaaaaaarf]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (except me because obvs I have done it). Spread the self-love ❤

Hiii Reese!! 💖 So lovely to see you in my ask box! Okay, here goes:

note: all fics are wolfstar

1. back when we were dinosaurs (4/4 complete) - rated e, 37.7k words, my museum fic.

this was my little ode to toronto/canada and the wolfstar in this fic are so, so special and precious to me. I honestly think it's the best thing I've ever written.

Remus is the ROM’s newest curator of the paleontological wing. Sirius manages the gift shop and has a dinosaur obsession. They are cute little nerds together and sometimes they have sex in the archives

2. The Killing Time (Unwillingly Mine) (3/3 complete) - rated m, 17.5k words, my murder husbands fic.

this is my little dark comedy that could. it's fully unhinged, but also my most popular fic. it's the fic that got me writing in the first place.

Remus becomes the most prolific serial killer in modern history because Sirius is a slut and won’t stop getting engaged.

3. I Had A Dream That You Were Mine (a bside from my When You Open Your Legs series) - rated t, 1.1k words, hatefuck universe

it might be weird to list a bside from one of my series, but honestly I adore it. while these fuckers are in love, they aren't very nice to each other most of the time, and this is a nice glimpse into their relationship where you see how happy they actually are. I do recommend you start at the beginning of the series if you're gonna read this, but I'm not the boss of you. series description:

Love and hate aren’t as far apart as you’d think. When Sirius meets famed rockstar Remus Lupin at a pub, they quickly become arch-enemies—and there’s not much to do to but fuck about it.

4. check me out (one shot) - rated e, 5k words, university au, smut

this fic really snuck up on me. when I started writing it I didn't realize I'd love it so much. remus is oblivious and a nerd. sirius is a slacker but extremely determined.

Remus is suddenly sweating—not just because the library aircon seems to be broken, or because he has an eleven page paper that's due next week that he's pretty sure he’s getting zero help on. He's sweating because Sirius keeps looking at him like that—smirking at him from under his eyelashes, a feral spark to his eye like he's starving and Remus is a particularly appealing meal. He’s sweating because this gorgeous, frustrating man has just offered to suck him off in the middle of the library and he can’t think of a single reason to say no. He should be able to think of a reason to say no. He’s not gonna say no. “Uh, yes please.”

5. i'm green, you're green (one shot) - rated g, 2.9k, frog & toad adaptation

this one is just extremely sweet and makes me smile. written as an adaptation of the frog & toad series by arnold lobel. the playlist is also a joy.

Once upon a time, not too long ago, there lived a Frog called Sirius and a Toad called Remus. They were neighbours in a beautiful garden. Oh, how they loved one another! They were the truest of friends. These are their adventures.

my fic masterlist

[marvelandsuchstuff]

Late Night Storms

Author's note: Listen, I was in an interesting place last night when I decided I need to write a 5k word smut for a charecter that only appers in like 2 episodes (when he was alive) of a show I watched in november… once. I know, I know - what the fuck? I think after hours of looking for more fics to read, I just decided I could do it. So here we are - also thank my friend who told me to post it, because I wasn’t gonna. Let me know what you think. Both Rowan and the reader are 18.

Warnings: Smut, thunderstorms, darkness, subspace (and kinda a drop-ish), Dom!Rowan x Fem!Reader (He gives me switch vibes) 18+ please

Word Count: 5.4k

Read on AO3

_______

Clouds up above chucked down rain in ample measure. The Dorm window was covered by the droplets racing down. Yoko, my roommate, sat with pen in hand by the window, looking out at the storm across the courtyard. As far as I could tell, the storm was only getting worse with the wind howling in the background, fuck. 

I liked the rain, hell I loved dancing in it - but storms, while being in a 3-century-old castle? Not my favourite I will admit. I had situated myself under my sheets, clambering onto my phone, trying to get a signal.  

“The cell line must have been hit, and the wifi is gone,” I said to Yoko, popping my head out just slightly 

“I wouldn't be surprised, it’s howling,” She replied, still staring out the window in awe. 

I sighed in frustration, great. There goes my plan to distract myself. I sit up and shuffle to grab a book, and that’s when it happens. 

All the lights flicker simultaneously, a telltale sign that power is about to go also, which I don’t think would help the current situation. I return to my spot under my bed, to which Yoko laughs, but it doesn't help much. I needed to leave before it got much worse.

Just my luck, at that moment the lights flicker on and off again before completely short-circuiting. Pitch black wasn’t my best friend unlike a certain Wednesday Addams, another reason to get out of here.

Yoko must have thought the same thing was about to happen because, in a few moments, the pitch black was illuminated by a strong torch that she had near her leg. It was strong enough to shine through the white blanket I was under, which I was thankful for.

I heard footsteps approach my bed, which made me jump slightly, but I quickly realised it was probably just Yoko coming to check on me. I peeked my head out slightly and saw her above me, smirking a bit. 

“You know you’ll be fine right?” she questioned, sitting down at the end of my bed. I curled my legs into myself as I pulled myself up to the headboard. I knew she meant no harm but it was instinctual from my home life. That was also the reason I hated storms… but I really don't want to think about that. 

“I know,” I reply kinda quietly to try and ease her worry for me. 

She gave me a kind smile back, and we kinda just sat there in silence with the thunder roaring over us. Every once in a while, lightning hit and I jumped, She grabbed my hand to calm me down the first time and kept it there. Tears stained my face as they slowly seeped out in 

After one really loud roll of thunder, a glimmer of an idea hit her as if lightning had personally struck her, “Do you think you’d be up to going to see Rowan? Not that I don't want you here of course but he can probably help you more”

Yoko was right, Rowan knew me better than anyone else, even myself sometimes. We’d been together for almost 2 years now, which was rare for a school relationship but somehow we just fit. He’d know how to help. 

“Ye-yeah” I stuttered, one problem, “but I can’t walk alone, I’ll probably end up in a ball somewhere, and Weems would find me and I’ll get in trouble."

“I wasn’t suggesting you walk alone,” she replied, “I’ll come with you to the dorm hall, all you got to do is walk down the hall, okay?”

All I had to do was the hall? That sounded reasonable, I replied “Ok, sounds go-good.”

So Yoko tugged me out of bed, and hesitantly I let her guide me. We grabbed our coats and were about to head off when I asked, “you’ll be ok coming back won’t you?”

She turned to me and stated “I have other plans, don’t worry.”

Ok then. 

---

When I got to the dorm hall, it was well past curfew and I knew I’d be in deep with Weems if you got caught again. She didn’t exactly like the late-night meetings or being dragged out of bed at midnight to deal with us. However, I was here now and it was useless going back to curling up under my sheets. 

Yoko had said her goodnights as she left me alone to wander to Rowan's room. The hall wasn't scary per se, but the few candles that lit the space were dull, so it was once again dark. 

I knocked on the dorm door, hoping it was quiet enough as to not be heard by anyone else but the people inside. Oh shit, I hope Xavier, his roommate, isn’t here to watch this meltdown, but it was too late now. Thankfully, light footsteps approached the other side and the door was pulled open slowly, obviously not expecting anyone at this hour.

Soft brown eyes greeted me, along with a smile as soon as Rowan registered who it was. His brown hair fell perfectly and his glasses frame his face really nicely in this light. However, the sweet smile faded as soon as he saw the state I was in. Realising there must still be tear stains covering my face, I went quickly to wipe my face but he was quicker to pull me into him.

Rowan pulled me farther into his room and the door shut behind us quietly. I don’t know how long we stood there, but it was long enough for my cries to turn into soft sniffles while Rowan kissed my head. 

“Do you want to go sit?” he asked softly. I looked up at him and nodded slowly, immediately he replied, “ok sweetheart.” 

Rowan helps me remove my wet coat along with my shoes, which he places at the foot of his bed. As soon as he does, I’m straight back in his arms. We shuffled over to the bed, which might I say is not as easy as it sounds when you’re in someone’s arms and they’re unwilling to release you. Which is cute in itself but isn't very practical. 

When we got onto the twin bed, Rowan situated himself under me so that I could just lay on him, which I was grateful for. An arm remained warped around me tightly, while the other traced down my back, which made me squirm just a tiny bit and he chuckled. Another kiss landed atop my head which I gave a small smile.

“There’s my girl, I was wondering where she went” Rowan whispered with a smile. 

“I’m here,” I giggle, looking up at him and then immediately turning away shyly to blush. How did I get so lucky? 

“If you’re here baby, can I see your face?” he replied as he caught my cheek with his thumb. I let him guide me back to his gorgeous eyes and kind smile. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” I whispered, he didn't have to ask but it was cute that he did. My lips met his, soft and sweet, very much him. I giggled a bit, biting my cheek, he tugged on my lip slightly. It was just us at that moment, and it felt so good.

Rowan pulled with a kiss on the cheek, and reached for his inhaler, mumbling something along the lines of “curse you asthma” as he did. My head returned to the comfy spot on his chest, catching my breath as well. 

We were like that for a while, it just felt right. 

“Hey, where’s Xavier?” I asked curiously as to why we weren’t getting annoyed groans in our general vicinity, not that I wasn’t happy about that fact.

He chuckles back, “I can’t believe that’s what you are worried about,”

“I’m definitely not, just seemed strange coming in here with no push back,” I replied 

This, once again made Rowan laugh and whisper semi-seductively, “I can give you pushback if that’s what you want baby,”

This just made me bury my face in his chest in embarrassment, he was so slight with it sometimes and he always knew it worked, hence the endless teasing. Pulling me closer to him, I forget how strong he is sometimes, even though most people don’t tend to notice. 

“I believe he’s at some party with Bianca and co,” he added. Oh, that’s where Yoko was off to then. She probably felt bad for leaving me alone and knowing parties aren't really my thing, decided it would be unfair to ask of me. Rowan took a deep breath and hesitantly asked, “are you alright now?”

“Yeah, just the-” I replied, pointing upwards and waving my finger around as if that was a word replacement. 

“Storm” he added, “I’m sorry I didn’t come to get you sooner, I know how much you hate them, I was caught up in an assignment.”

I shook my head, “No, no, no, it’s not your fault or your job for that mat-”

“It most definitely is my job” he cut me off but that just garnered me to shake my head more, “Uh huh, yes it is”

“Not”

“Is, I don’t like seeing you like you were when I opened the door, you’re breaking my heart baby” Rowan reacts a bit of unusual sourness to his voice.

I hug him even tighter, he’s so unbelievably good to me, I just whisper “I’m sorry, I couldn’t get a hold of you, the cell tower went down”

He takes a deep breath and smiles gently, “Stop apologizing for stuff you can’t control”

“Right back at you” I laugh, “but we got here and we’re good, aren't we?”

“We’re so good right now sweetheart” Rowan replies, laughing a bit too.

---

We lay there for a while longer, just content with how we were. Thunder rolling over the night sky and the sounds of rain out the window - it wasn’t that bad now that I was in his arms, my own personal shield from the elements. It was at this moment I realized Rowan’s room was illuminated by candles of all kinds, it was really romantic for a school dorm.

“I like your candles” I comment, lifting my head to look around the room.

“I had them saved for a special occasion” he replied with a glimmer of mischievous, “But this works too,”

I think for a moment… it would take my mind off the storm, that’s for sure. So I replied sweetly “Who said we couldn’t use them for a special occasion?”

Rowan looked down at me with a mischievous glint glowing in his eye, “Are you sure you want that tonight sweetheart?”

I nod into him.

“I need words please” He stated sternly but with a smile. Rowan was, um, rough when he was in control, we had rules set out so neither one of us could get actually hurt and we both felt safe.

One of them was that we had to give explicit consent to the other whenever we were controlling the scene, so I obliged, “Yes, I want this”

“Ok, you know your rules and your safe words, anytime you want out-” He affirmed.

“I just have to say, I got it. '' I cut off, Rowan was always so careful to make sure I was comfortable with what was about to happen and I did the same for him when I was in control as well. We worked well in that way. 

“Can I see your pretty face again?” he asked as his thumb drew to my cheek and turned my head once again. He lent down to initiate the kiss, and soft lips enveloped mine once again, I swear I could live here forever. 

As the kiss grew deeper, I climbed on top of Rowan to get a better angle. This wasn’t any use though, because as soon as I was in the right position, strong hands gripped my sides and flipped my entire body. Now, Rowan had the upper hand on top and the only thing in his way was his glasses.

When we came up for air, Rowan hovered over me, looking amazing as he did so. He leaned over to his side table and removed his glasses while also going for a quick puff of his inhaler. I could be content between his legs forever. 

However, that quickly drew to a close when he returned his attention back to me, lowering himself onto his forearms to meet me. He gave a quick peck to my lips and slowly made his way down to my neck, sucking enough to leave bruises. 

I moaned loudly when he got to a really sensitive spot, to which he responded by coving my mouth to try to muffle the sounds. He knew this was ok, 3 taps to get out if I needed, and my hands were free to rummage through his hair. He came to a halt after a really loud moan, commenting “Hey baby, you gotta stay quiet for me, ok? I don’t want people down the hall hearing us”

I nodded and tapped him 2 times, meaning ok. He smiled up at me and whispered “Good girl,”

He slowly attached himself to my neck again, moving further down as he did - It felt so fucking good. When he got to the hem of my shirt, he looked at me with his soft eyes, once again asking permission. I nodded and pulled on my shirt to lift it over my arms. It got discarded and thrown on the dorm floor along with Rowan’s sweater.

I pulled on his tie to connect our lips again, I needed him to be close. He sunk his lips into mine, using the height he had to overpower me and battle me into submission. The tie he had on was wrapped in my hands as I tried to remove it but was making me frustrated. Rowan caught on pretty quick and decided to peel off my lips and loosen them to pull off. 

Once he had it in his hands, I stared at it for a brief moment - could I ask him to just maybe? I mean we’ve done it before and he certainly loves it. I think Rowan must’ve noticed because he says “if you want something, you’ve got to use your words”

Fuck. I was definitely caught, I sigh and very quickly ask, “Could you, um maybe, tie me up please”

He laughs a bit and I must turn bright red from embarrassment. He replies, “Can you say that again?”

I let out another sigh, so this is how it’s going to be. I try to curl into myself to hide but Rowan’s on it already, trapping my hands by his sides. I give in and ask again slower, “can you tie me up with your tie, please?”

He smiles and responds “Please, what?”

Catching his drift, I know what Rowan wants and he knows what it does to me. It’s also comforting in a way, to give him complete control over me. So I reply, “please, sir”.

“Good girl,” he praises with a kiss on my forehead, “I’ve got you.” 

I believe him completely, I trust him like nobody else. He slowly takes his tie and makes sure it is knotted around his bed frame while I lift my hand to meet him. He gently secures them in and I pull to make sure they’re tight enough.

“Ok,” Rowan comments, “You’ve got to make sure you’re quiet because I can’t cover your mouth”

“Yes, sir.” I reply quickly. He smiles down at me and scans my body underneath him.

He grabs behind me, undoing the clasp of my bra, along with the straps that hold it in place. He stares at my boobs for a good 10 seconds before doing anything else. Cute. 

“Do you like what you see?” I ask, smiling up at him, wiggling around to make them bounce a bit 

“Uh- ye-yea-yeah” He stutters for a second, reminding me that my cute nerdy-ass boyfriend is still under there. He coughs and grabs his inhaler - which makes me burst out laughing. He returns to me with a stern look, to which I quiet down to a giggle, but he just shakes his head. 

“You’re really cute y'know” I state 

He smiles at me, “Thanks, I guarantee you won't be saying that once I’m inside you though”

That just makes me turn red again, and he is the one laughing this time. Rowan makes his way down to my tits with kisses and then down even father to the top of my sweats. He looks back up at me for final confirmation, to which I nod.

“Words,” he reminds me.

“Yes, sir.” I respond softly, I need him to do something, anything at this point.

With that, he hooks his fingers under the soft cotton of my sweats and underwear and pulls them down in one fell swoop. The cold air hits me like a wave and I curl up - but as always Rowan is there to pin me down. He grabs my thighs and spreads them open for him to see.

“You’re so pretty,” He expresses with a smile. I go pink at the compliment - I can’t believe he’s mine. He lowers himself down to meet my pussy and starts sucking on my clit like there’s no tomorrow. I whine from not being about to do much or touch him but I suppress myself when he flicks his eyes to me, telling me to stop. He grips my thighs tighter as he delves in more. 

I am beginning to reach my climax and do you want to know what he does next? He stops like fully comes off me. I moan out from the loss of contact and writhe around trying to get any friction from anywhere.

“Shhh,” he states, “I got you, I got you.”

Rowan takes his hands from under me and pins me down till I stop.

“Why?” I whine in my haze - Rowans is not one to not make me finish that's for sure. 

“I promise it will make it ten times better when you do cum - I promise,” he whispers to me, “I also need to be inside you.”

I look up at him, hazy, already dipping into subspace from the stimulation and the emotions from before. At that moment, I realize he’s basically fully clothed and I… well I’m not at all.

“Hey, how is this clothing situation fair?” I ask lightly. He looks down at himself and then back up at me.

“You’re right, this is no good,” he replies and shuffles off the bed toward his wardrobe. I cry even more from the loss of complete contact, which catches Rowan off guard. He returns to my side, squatting down beside the bed and losing the tie so I can reach out for him. He takes my hand, kisses the knuckles, and says “I’m right here ok, right here - can you tell me your colour?”

I smile small, “green, I’m ok, it's just a lot.” 

“Alright,” he replies, still holding my hand in one of his while the other unbuttons the shirt he has on, “I’m just going to go put my clothes on my chair, ok?”

Two taps for ok and he kisses my head again. Shuffling over to his desk he takes his shirt and his trousers off, god he’s so beautiful. He comes back over as soon as he’s done, fully unclothed, kneeling down on the bed to meet me. 

“No changes since last time?” Rowan asked sweetly. Right, birth control and all that jazz.

I smile and shake my head, “No, sir.”

“Ok, you ready?” he asks, lining himself up with me. 

“Yes, please sir,” I practically moan out. He pushes in, he’s big so it's quite an experience - always the quiet ones. Once he is fully in, we connect lips again, pushing down on my tongue. 

At first, we remain like that, just letting us get used to each other. Rowan breaks the kiss, and asks “are you ok to move?”

I nod “Yes.”  

That's when he starts thrusting softly in and out of me, first, he is calm and collected. He keeps a solid pace, slightly wimping when our hips met and kissing me all over. I bite my lip to keep from screaming out in pleasure. I jut my hips to meet his, becoming full once again.

Rowan increased his pace as my hands tangled in his hair. If there was one thing this boy did know how to do, it was knowing exactly where to hit to stimulate me in the most insane ways. He found a sweet spot and hit it over and over and over so that it felt just right.

He was also not averse to using his abilities to enhance the experience. Using his mental ability to stimulate my clit without having to move his hands from mine was truly amazing. He was skilled at it, that’s for sure. It was an interesting feeling to have all your nerve endings stimulated at once to give you pleasure. 

Still pretty sensitive from before, like Rowan said I would be, aided me to get closer to the edge. This combined with the stimulation from his cock, sent me writhing pretty quickly. Wiggling and shaking around - I couldn’t help it, it felt so amazing. He kept his hands in mine, pinning them down so I didn't become too hard to control under his touch.

“Come on sweetheart,” he uttered, with even harder strokes which had me unable to control my moans anymore. 

“Plea-Please,” I breathed out shakily, I was so close. 

With one final slow thrust, the euphoric high of release overcame me. Fuck me. My brain fully went at this point, it wasn’t the most intense thing we’d done but I think it was the high emotions and the overall just sent me over the edge. It felt really fucking good. 

Rowan continued to up his pace, both with his mind and him inside me. He allowed my senses to overstimulate me and send me even higher. It made me whine “Fuck”

“I know, I know, but you can give me one more yeah?” he asserted - he was clearly trying to be the death of me. 

I could barely function, let alone speak but with a last bit of energy I managed out a quick breathy “Yes, sir”

He gave a nod in agreement and his thumb gently slide down my cheek, “Such a good girl for me”

He slammed himself into me, making me cry out in pleas. My neck became nothing more than something for Rowan to bury himself into while giving me hickeys which would definitely show tomorrow. I could feel the bruises being formed by his lips as he pulled the sensitive spot by the collarbone. 

I tried to buck my hips up to meet his, key word tried. It was more of a half-hearted attempt to bring me back to the situation but there was no hope. I was completely gone, the only thing that mattered was Rowan, the gorgeous boy in front of me. I was determined to bring him into the highest plane of euphoria, so I kept tightening around him and hoping he’s come along with me. 

Luckily for me, Rowan caught on pretty quickly with long strokes, holding on to me to gain pleasure. Faster and harder than before, he finished with a few final thrusts and cumming inside me, which also did me over. The high brought me even closer to the clouds than before. 

Rowan also seemed completely gone for a few moments, seeing the stars as he called it. He layed on top of me for a while, kissing me and my body lazily, just coming down from that high. I played with his hair for a bit, to which he hummed softly. He allowed me to come back to somewhat of a normal level of brain activity while he gently traced small stars into my skin along with a few more kisses here and there. 

I don’t quite know when, but at some point pulled out and got up, which I tried to lazily fight the warm body from leaving. He managed to get off the bed before I moaned at the loss of contact. He hummed in response, squatting down beside me and going in for a sweet kiss - which was much appreciated. I knew he had to get up and leave me to sort out the things he needed, which were to take care of us, but I still didn't want him to leave. 

When he finally broke the kiss, he did his signature forehead kiss and whispered “I gotta go for a minute, but I promise I’ll be back sweetheart.”

I flickered my eyes towards him, responded softly and with a small smile, “go”. 

So he got up and pulled himself from my grip, I repressed the urge to fight for him again. Instead, I lay there, listening to the wind and the rain and him in the bathroom. I began slowly positioning myself upwards, much to the dismay of the pain in my back but I knew it would help. The storm was calming down it seemed but the wind still howled through the courtyard and the school.

Returning from the bathroom a few minutes later, Rowan approached the bed, a towel around him and a damp white cloth in his hand. He moved to spread me open once more, this time the cloth came into contact with me, which made me sob a bit.

“Shhh… it’s good for you baby,” Rowan gently encouraged. He was right of course, but that didn't make it any less sensitive. 

Once he was down, he left again, but this time only for a brief moment. When he returned back to his room, he came with empty arms. Carefully he came over and helped me stand to meet him, which was painful but was helped by him. 

“Bathroom,” he directed as he wrapped his arm around me to guide me, walking over the barren hardwood which sent a coldness to my feet. I was thankful he was there, I’m pretty sure it would’ve been impossible to make it by myself, things littered the floor left and right. This made it very hard to walk in the low light but Rowan seemed to manage perfectly. Only having fumbled once, to which he hooks onto me with a cute laugh and a peck on the cheek, we made it to the bathroom. 

As soon as I felt the tile I tried to make a b-line to the bath that Rowan had drawn, but he had other plans. Gently guiding me with the palm of his hand along my back over to the toilet to get rid of the nasty stuff, he stayed with me till I was done and clean. 

With a little nod of my head, he pulled me into his side once again, lifting me into his arms this time. He's always said it is like carrying a feather with his abilities taking the physical weight off him. He’s just guiding me on where to go, but it feels no different when you’re zoned out. I wish he'd done it before, my legs were sore, but it was probably a good thing he made me walk through, to stretch knowing I’d be gone after the bath.

Gently, Rowan places himself into the bath, then me on top of him. It’s nice, the warm water hitting my skin as it makes little waves and with the candles scattered around, it’s magic. 

He pulled himself up and made sure my head was above the waterline. We layed like that for a while. I was fighting the urge to sleep when he started to glide his hands over my body lightly. My eyes closed once again and I fully surrendered to his touch. 

Rowan noticed how tired I was, probably knowing that between the storm and the sex, I was emotionally and physically drained. Which is why he whispered “Sleep sweetheart, I’ll take care of you, promise”.

I barely registered the sentence to nod, but as soon as I did, Rowan kissed my hair and I was off into the abyss, trusting that he’d keep his promise. 

---

I remember fading in and out of some sort of consciousness throughout the night. The sounds and smells of Rowan cleaning our bodies, along with the smell of bath salts and candles. It was peaceful. One of my favourite purple bath bombs layered the bath with stary swirls and bubbles 

After some time, Rowan finally exited the bath and got wrapped up in towels, before moving on to me. He most certainly used his powers to get me dry and into the pjs, I stored in his room. Thank you pre-planning. 

His glasses must have been back on because I distinctly remember accidentally brushing something metal near his face and cringing internally, hoping I didn't make them fall. But luckily he didn't pay much attention as he was too focused on other things. He laid me down on Xavier’s bed for a minute, which highly confused my delirious self. I quietly questioned him with a small mewl when he left my side, reaching out for him.

He turned back to face me, hand still in mine and chucked, “I thought you were asleep,”

“I am, keep going and coming,” I replied weakly and a bit hazy, I wanted to let him know I wasn't fully there

“Ah,” he said as he approached me again, making us level as he squatted “well I need to change the sheets baby, you made a bit of a mess”

“Sorry,” I replied with guilt. I should at least help him, I thought. But almost immediately after trying to get up, I fell back down onto my stomach, to which Rowan laughed. 

“Don’t worry about it baby, I got it. Besides, I love taking care of you, so let me,” he stated, his thumb tracing my hand. He smiled at me and lent over for a quick peck to my lips. He then got up to stand again, let go of my hand, walked over to his closet and rummaged till he found the extra sheets he was searching for. Meanwhile, I let sleep consume me once more, the black abyss taking me away once again. 

--

Rowan must have finished the bed because before I knew it, I was in his arms again being taken from one bed to another. My sweet boy. 

Carefully he laid me down under the sheets, and then tucked me in. He blew out all the candles that surrounded us, as well as in the bathroom. Soon though, he came back and peeled back the covers on his side, sliding under the warm blankets as he did. 

I gently found myself sliding over to him for even more warmth and comfort. He allowed me to roll onto him, with my neck in the crook of his. His hands once again drew patterns on my back, a reminder that he was still there if I needed him 

I just curled into him deeper, not caring about the 6 am wake-up call I would get so I could slip away before we were caught.

“Thank you,” I whisper, I don’t know what inclined me but I felt the need. Maybe it was the profound sense of safety I found in his arms as they held me tight or the emotional stability I now had, but I thought it was necessary. 

Rowan’s hands faltered for a brief second, and then he whispered, “Anytime, sweetheart."

Thanks for reading!! Let me know any feedback!

[voidartisan]

Clone Wars characters as things i've heard in class

you have no idea how long i've been saving these up

Fives: Stop licking my dryer sheet!

Ahsoka: Yeah, he transferred to the Senate guard, he doesn’t like it there. He says they smell like pencils.

Ahsoka:*Walking in* Barriss, what’s the average life span of a woman? Like 70-80 years, right? I need comfort. I need to know that I will die eventually.

Anakin: Just get a giant hammer, name it kindness, and then BAM.

Palpatine: Yes, taxing the peasants, very good!

Obi-Wan: I am begging you, stop spamming the cringey Twitter account I made in high school.

Anakin: How much Spanish do you you speak?

Kit Fisto: Enough to know all the cuss words.

Leia: Thus, philosophy’s flaming razor sword: It doesn’t matter.

Riyo Chuchi: I actually blew a couple of fuses in my room last year, so maintenance says I’m not supposed to plug in five waffle irons at a time any more.

Rex:*Swears upon knocking over something hot and heavy, looks up* In case you didn’t hear that — KRIFF.

Ahsoka: Just eat the frog already!

Ahsoka: You know what’s worse than freshmen? Freshman boys.

Obi-Wan: *As Korkie walks past in the hallway* Hello, mini-me.

Quinlan Vos: Anyone here watched the movie Jaws? Well, I’m writing a book, and it’ll be kind of like that, but with fantasy Puritans and a giant spider. I’m calling it “Puritan Spider Jaws”

Later: I haven’t decided who’s gonna die yet, but I’m thinking the spider’s gonna get set on fire.

Young Obi-Wan: Qui-gon’s a cool teacher, he’s so laid back. I think he might be high like half the time, but his class is really fun.

Mace Windu: Anyone else going to answer? Alright, then. Go ahead, Ben. You could probably teach this class better than me anyway.

Anakin: You know what would solve all of Coruscant’s population problems? Lab babies.

Han, to Luke: You were at that school for three years and didn’t memorize the camera locations?

Leia: Look at my other mask

Han: Why?

Leia: Because it’s black, like your soul.

Kix: I don’t like fighting. Sometimes Rex gets frustrated and yells “Hit him!” Then I hit him once and Rex’s like “Yeah!” and the other guy’s on the floor crying and I’m like “AUGHHHHHH!”

Padmé: Just because I have money doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings.

Ahsoka: Are you going to have any chocolate milk, Rex?

Anakin: Ahsoka, he’s lactose intolerant.

Ahsoka: Oh, sorry—

Rex: Nope. Only for you, Ahsoka.

Rex: *proceeds to pour and chug an entire glass of chocolate milk.*

Obi-Wan: *sarcastically* Didn’t you know? Gingers control the sun.

Korkie: *panicking* Well, no one told me!

Anakin: You know, Master Fisto. Really super buff. Looks like he would run a 5K at the drop of a hat.

Obi-Wan: Anakin, stop making pterodactyl noises.

Din Djarin: Sometimes people ask me about my pronouns. I say that I don’t care what they call me, but it’s not true. I just want to be pronounced “dead.”

Anakin: 4’11”!

Ahsoka: Hey, Master

Anakin: I’m so glad she responds to that. It’s the highlight of my day.

Fives: What are tootsie rolls, anyway? They’re not chocolate, they’re not taffy—

Jesse: It’s better not to ask

Waxer: I got—

Cody: Got expelled? Welp, get your stuff, see you never, nice knowing you.

Ahsoka: Madame Nu don’t care

Jocasta Nu: She don’t

Bail Organa: I have only ever had one person in my life who actually liked banana-flavored Laffy Taffy. And I no longer speak to them.

Obi-Wan: Be careful with these, they’re fragile and expensive—

Anakin: Like my heart

Barriss: The afterlife should be Communist

Hamsters: *frenzied squeaking*

Anakin: *pulling out a small pail* awww…you guys want some Nutella?

Obi-Wan: Stop offering them Nutella

Ahsoka: Is that WHOLE THING filled with Nutella?

Anakin: I mean, not anymore…

Luke: What does a kilogram weigh in American?

Luke: Legally, I can say whatever I want

Han: And I can legally fight you

Boba: Actually, I’m asexual. My son will look exactly like me.

Leia: Han’s got a rough life. Already colorblind, now he’s going deaf at seventeen.

Luke: How do I cite my brain in APA?

Din Djarin: Costco is a cult

Obi-Wan: Can anyone tell me what this is called?

Anakin: A diagram

Obi-Wan: It starts with a k

Anakin: A kdiagram

Ahsoka: *holding up energy drink* Look, Master! Third one today!

Obi-Wan: You are going to die.

Obi-Wan: *checks nutrition facts* 800 mg. Less than a cup of coffee, not too bad. Maybe you won’t die. But you probably will.

Anakin: Master, what if we each brought you a thousand dollars? Then would we still have to take the test?

Mace Windu: I mean, I guess would be better than bringing me… disappointment—

Fennec: It was overhyped

Boba: You just have no soul, that’s what it is

Luke: Eight! Y’know, the devil’s number.

Jango Fett: Why wouldn’t you clone yourself?

Ahsoka: So, when will the grades be in? Tomorrow, or… when should I expect to be depressed?

Padmè, during a mock senatorial campaign: Would you like some of The People’s™ lip balm? It has sparkles.

Luke: Are you okay?

Han, without looking up from his work: I’m straight.

Luke:…

Luke: Well, congratulations on coming out—

Ahsoka: The only one of these I can apply for is the poetry scholarship

Anakin: Roses are red, violets are blue…

Rex: …please give me money.

Ahsoka: Hey, what’s that? Are you planning how we’re all gonna die?

Cody: Yup

Luke: You should play Abba!

Han: You sound like my mother.

Cara: Who’s the main character in your life, Mando?

Din: Uh… my cat, probably

Fives, spinning across the room in a rolling chair: Bounty. The quicker picker upper.

Hondo: No scams for me please, I like money.

Anakin: I’m gonna do a patriotism

Waxer: What is it…

Boil: What’s what?

Waxer: That thing Commander says we’re not allowed to do to the shinies.

Boil: Initiation?

Waxer: There was another word for it.

Boil: Hazing?

Waxer: Yeah! That’s it.

Kix: Fives, if you drop those donuts I will drop YOU

[aces-drew]

Hi! I just wanted to drop in and say that I adore your two Nace fics so much to the point that I have probably reread them about 20 millions and if you ever want to write for them again I would be more than WILLING (and to tell my soul) to supply you with a slew of ideas because I have plenty <3 your writing is absolutely BEAUTIFUL!!!

hi anon, you have no idea how often i think of your ask and how much i've come back to it since you've written to me. i hope you're still around and still somewhat part of the nd fandom, and that the series finale was something you could enjoy and be satisfied w! truth be told i fell out of the fandom at the end of the third season, it was for a lot of reasons - personal and just the time passing, and with it also came half-baked word docs of nace fics i started but never really got around to finishing. and i never wanted to answer your high compliments with the answer of never considering to write for them again, and in all honesty i forgot my written drabbles in a folder on my laptop for the better part of the last two years. but i went through it on a whim today and actually found something i think is worth sharing, and since your message has stayed with me, i'm going to post it for you and you only, as both a thank you and im sorry i couldnt really give you more. writing for nace was one of my greatest joys in a truthfully very difficult time in my life, and im so glad it was as special for you as it was for me! so here's almost 5k of nace being in their pre-relationship, best friends in tension phase dated to the 21st of dec 2021 - it's certainly not my best work and may seem a bit half-baked, but there is so much love in it, and its happy and sad and hopeful all at once, and reading it again with fresher eyes, it would've been a shame for it to rot in my gdrive with no audience, so yeah thank you for reading this my dear anon. i hope you like it, take care!!

***

Ace let out a soft mumble of a curse under his breath.

‘Florence, this is not the time girl.’

The exasperation in his tone was refreshing to Nancy. Rarely was Ace ever off-centre; he was always the one who held down the fort, who grounded everyone, and especially her, to whatever it was they were working through at any given time. So the fact that car trouble was what got Ace ticking made her chuckle.

And among other things, she had to admit how adorable it was – his brows creased in annoyance, hands resting on his steering wheel, fingers drumming on the small surface in agitation. (Nancy tried to force herself to look away when her mind started to focus on how long and sturdy his fingers were in comparison to the lining of the steering wheel, ignoring the unnatural hike in her pulse).

Nancy observes his leg start to bounce restlessly in its place, his growing frustration rivalling Nancy’s ease. He looks at her through the rear-view mirror, sparkly blue eyes that seem to brace for her remark knowingly, ‘You’re not allowed to say I told you so.’

Nancy playfully clicks her tongue, ‘I told you so.’

He groans in response, but there’s only levity in his tone. When she looks at him amidst her unhelpful giggle, for the briefest of seconds, she sees a ghost of a smile on his lips.

‘Okay I’ve got Earnie on speed-dial, he should be here in like 45 minutes.’

He looks at her readily, waiting for her to take a jab at the fact that he’s on a first-name basis with the Horseshoe Bay’s finest mechanic and tower of cars, but she chooses not to indulge him.

With a small smile, she pulls out a pack of skittles and crinkles it open, offering him a hand-full of carelessly assorted yellow skittles in ceasefire. He looks at her in mocking question, ‘You think giving me my favourite colour of skittles is going to convince me into giving you a pass on the next 45 minutes where you tease me about this incessantly?’

Nancy smiles the brightest smile she can manage, teeth barred like a girl scout selling her cookies door to door, ‘Yep.’

He concedes, nonchalantly shaking his head and turning over the skittles from her hand to his, ‘You know me too well.’

(Nancy ignores the way he touches the pulse point on her wrist when he transfers the candy onto his own hand, how his fingers ever-so gently wrap around her entire wrist, electrifying the skin under his touch).

They sit there chewing in comfortable silence - on the candy as well as their thoughts; it had been a long day. They were heading back from another dead-end lead on de-tangling George’s soul from Odette’s, and though it had been a long shot, the sting of failure extinguishing the little hope that had slipped through to everyone in the group at the beginning of the day was subtly unrelenting. Nancy tried to keep the fear at bay, closing her eyes to refocus away from the painful pulses lightly throbbing at her temple. She couldn’t even think about reliving George’s death again, but the image of her bloodied body on the floor of the Claw re-emerges without permission, and along with it comes bile up Nancy’s throat.

In an attempt for comfort, she reminds herself of what George had to said to them when they regrouped at their cars to drive back to Horseshoe Bay, ‘I’m a fighter guys, and I live every day with intention, I’m happy and in love and I have no regrets. We’ll figure this out.’

She recalls George’s soft smile at Nick, her smirk at Bess when Addy asks for the two of them to carpool back alone together, her hugs for Nancy and Ace – she reminds herself how good it feels to relish in the warmth of her best friend. Taking a few deep breaths, Nancy wills for it to make her feel a bit better.

A gentle tap on her shoulder gets her to open her eyes again, and before she can turn to face Ace in question, she finds herself enamoured by the starry night sky looking down on her through the upper windshield. She wonders how she hadn’t yet noticed the glimmering specks of silver tattered against a canvas of cloudless navy blue, both beautifully and terrifyingly spanning the expanse of her entire eyeline, nestled between tall, dark oaks and pine trees on either side of the road they were currently grounded to.

‘You have to stop worrying about her, we’ll solve this too, we always do.’

That snaps her focus right back onto Ace, and she realises that despite the fairly long drive in darkness, the reason her attention had been obscured from the remarkable night sky was because it had been elsewhere, particularly on a concerning distraction that had been sat next to her this whole time.

She studies him, not rushing her response. She registers the way his lips have come into a fine line in resolve, starkly different to the smile lines that had lifted the plane of his cheeks just a few minutes ago, how the flecks of grey within his clear, sky-blue eyes zap like lightning, reflecting the twinkle of the stars above him – confident, persevering, determined. Her chest expands at how his expression still emanates warmth, a still of comfort when her mind is too convoluted to function, to find the gravity below her. Looking at him, she doesn’t necessarily blame herself for not noticing the night sky.

‘I hate that you can read me.’

She finds the grin in his eyes before his lips, ‘You have to stop being so predictable.’

She mock-scoffs at him, ‘Says the guy who knew his car was going to break down but was too stubborn to back down from subjecting it to a long road trip anyways.’

He takes his turn feigning hurt, ‘Touché.’ He chuckles, ‘Nancy – 1, Ace – 0.’

She sobers up at his still subtly insistent stare, he doesn’t want her to drop the subject just yet but he doesn’t ask again; his delicate push gets her primed enough to voice her thoughts, ‘I can’t watch her die again.’

She hates how her voice fails her, vulnerability and fear lulling her to a whisper, as if she’s afraid the universe will hear her. Ace responds with a shaky breath, returning to her gaze with the truths she’s been trying to convince herself with, ‘We’re trying our best. We’ll get there, and we’ll find what she needs.’

His eyes don’t waver from hers, ‘We can’t live in how her death is something we can’t avoid just yet, you heard what she said Nance, she’s living her best life day after day, and we owe it to her to do the same.’

He says his words with such conviction that Nancy lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding, (she tries not to melt at how his nickname for her drapes itself so softly on his tongue). ‘None of us will ever give up on her, on any of us.’

She lets out a small smile in understanding, a tear escaping to her cheek before she’s able to get a hold of her glossy eyes. For a spilt-second Nancy sees his fingers reach out for her, possibly to wipe the tear away, but he stops himself, and Nancy tries to ignore the way her stomach hollows out at his reluctance. Instead, he gives a genuine smile in return. 

Before the slight awkwardness can stew between the two of them, Ace speaks up softly, clearing his throat, ‘Alright, come on.’

He gestures to the trunk of the car as he gets out of the driver’s seat, and open’s the passenger door for her to follow him; she wordlessly steps out despite her confusion. The cold wind hits her skin immediately, passing through the soft sleeves of her sweater as if they weren’t even there. She hugs herself, tracing her hands up and down her upper arms to create some insulation.

Ace opens up the trunk and unzips a large duffel bag, pulling out three blankets and two cushion pillows. Taking the especially woolly chocolate and cream checkered throw, he swings it over Nancy’s back and gently swaddles her, ‘Better?’

‘Better.’ She responds, warmth immediately encapsulating her. Before she can ask why they’re outside his car in uncomfortably cold weather, he explains, ‘The stars are out tonight,’ he says looking up, ‘I thought we could kill some time while we wait for Earnie, and a distraction wouldn’t hurt the both of us. Two birds, one stone.’

Nancy follows his eye-line and stares at the sky, ‘Definitely.’

Within five minutes, he lays out the largest blanket he has onto the hood of Florence and sets down the two pillows for them. Forgetting the added weight of the throw, she grabs his hand to get onto the surface, and predictably, loses balance almost immediately, tripping to fall face first right onto Ace’s chest.

Before Nancy settles into how mortifying it is, Ace’s arms instinctually wrap around her waist and secure them in place, his chest reverberating the chuckle he adds to the night air.

Her shoulders loosen, and Ace looks down at her with a smirk, a glint of mischief within those blue eyes Nancy adores, ‘Comfortable?’

‘Shut up.’ Nancy groans, and Ace readily manoeuvres her waist to help her rest next to him, the two of them fully laughing now. (She ignores the way his fingers come into contact with some bare skin on her hips when it happens, a result of her sweater hiking and the blanket falling on top of the both of them when she fell; she tries not to focus on the imperceptible movement of his thumbs against her exposed skin).

As they recover from their laughing fit and Nancy settles more comfortably onto her cushion, shoulder to shoulder with Ace, they both find themselves looking up at the incredible vastness above them. Away from the other’s gaze, and suddenly incredibly aware of how small they were in this expanse of time and space, Nancy feels almost blindingly comfortable with Ace, willing to tell him anything if he asked.

Ace seems to get the same idea, ‘Okay, game time. I give you a story and you give me one in return, could be prompted by a question if either of us have something specific to ask, but otherwise it’s free rein.’

Nancy considers the proposition – she supposes it is dangerous territory, and that she would be tiptoeing between everything she wants to disclose and keep hidden, especially because she was already so comfortable leaving her heart at her sleeve with Ace, but ultimately the urge to get to know Ace better wins her over.

‘Okay,’ she agrees, slightly hesitant, ‘But you start, since you clearly have something in mind.’

She sees him nod in her periphery.

‘My mom used to take me star-gazing to help with my anxiety,’ Ace says, his eyes focused on the sky. ‘I couldn’t sleep after what happened with my dad, and there were a good few weeks where he was comatose in the hospital, and I couldn’t get that image of him out of my head every time I closed my eyes.’

‘I stayed up for like four days straight after the accident, hopped up on energy drinks and just gaming or coding night after night, getting by on twenty minute naps that would just happen because my body was so exhausted,’ he sighs, seemingly disappointed in his younger self, ‘It wasn’t long before my mom noticed the bags under my eyes and asked me to explain myself - I just broke down, told her how his limp body was all I could see if I let my mind rest for even a second. That’s when she invested in Florence, a seemingly temporary rental at the time,’ he chuckles fondly, ‘and every night my dad stayed in the hospital after that, she took me up to the bluffs so that we could see the stars as clear as they were in Maine.’

She imagines a young Ace, so scared of his father not coming home that he wills himself to become his own problem, shielding himself the only way he knows how, and finding himself unwilling to depend on anyone, even as a child. Even though the irony of how similar they are is not lost on her, it hollows out Nancy’s chest.

She can’t also help but find small comfort in the karmic coincidence that the bluffs were somehow similarly significant in both their lives – a place rooted in contentment equally as much as trauma. Nancy wonders why fate sometimes writes in intricately entwining strings so cruel when it comes to her.

‘She pointed out all the constellations, and eventually I learnt them too, and her explaining everything would send me to sleep. It was a lot easier to close my eyes to the stars instead of a dark ceiling, and she always said ‘It’s okay to be afraid, but when you are, just look up, and you’ll be reminded of how vast and complicated this universe is. And if you can believe in that, you can believe that things will work out for the best’. And that hope? That hope has weirdly never really left me, no matter what’s happened since then.’ He finishes.

Nancy can tell that his voice is thicker, and she doesn’t push to ask him why he thought she should know something so intrinsic about him. She breathes it in nevertheless, savouring a piece of his past that has been delicately placed in her hands, an olive branch for her to know him better.

She decides to take him up on it and share something that’s been kept in the dustiest shelves of her own heart, ‘That day the Aglaeca came to claim us, I actually fell off the bluffs.’

Nancy feels him turn his face to her in surprise, the only thing she’d told them was that she’d almost tripped over - she’d never considered talking about the truth till now; she pushes on, talking at the stars, ‘I kept screaming for help, but obviously nobody came. I was meant to die there, just like my mother, and for a second, before my survival instinct kicked in, I almost let go… almost wanted to let go,’ she feels her voice wobble, unable to carry the weight of her words, ‘I felt my own weight on my fingers, felt them give, and I was so tired, so I almost let go… instead of choosing to try and climb up.’

She had never admitted that to anybody, least of all herself, but it felt liberating to do so, to be overwhelmed in how enormous all her trauma seemed at the time, ‘I think it’s because I’d felt helpless for a long time, I didn’t know how to be somebody that other people couldn’t depend on, and I couldn’t get the conversation, or fight, we all had out of my head,’ she adds quickly, with a hollow, humourless chuckle, ‘but I did, I did climb up, and when I looked over at the sea, sitting there, all alone, I wasn’t necessarily glad that I had. I still felt empty, even when I knew we survived.’

Verbalising the last admission felt like a tonne of bricks on her shoulders, but it all came out in a few short breaths – like domino after domino falling in a way she couldn’t really stop once it started. She’d felt so small in the face of everything she’d been through, and even though she knew that life is always the right choice, and she’s convicted of that that definitively now more than any other time in her life, it wasn’t something that came intuitively to her that day. Her introspection is cut short when she realises that Ace has fully turned to face her now, and she struggles finding the courage to look at him.

When she does, the pain in his glassy eyes knocks the wind out of her, ‘Nance, I-I-, shit. I’m so fucking sorry Nancy.’

His voice breaks, faltering as he sits upright with his apology. She follows, sitting up cross-legged next to him, ‘Hey, hey,’ she insists, resting her arm on his bicep, willing him to look at her, ‘I wasn’t done… You know what helped me through that? What made me realise that it had obviously been the right choice?’

Ace’s stormy blue eyes look back at her, and he seems to recognise her desperation for levity, ‘Therapy?’

They both chuckle, cutting through a little bit of the tension, ‘Yes, of course therapy,’ she agrees, ‘but unlike therapy, this isn’t something I’ve had since I was eight.’

She takes a deep breath, hoping her persistent eye contact conveys the principle she that she grounds herself to, ‘It was all of you. Seeing you that day when I walked into the Claw that night? With Bess, and Nick and George? With your relieved smiles, and hugs that were insistent on making sure I knew how glad you all were that I was alive? That’s what rushed all that relief into my body. For a spilt second, the Aglaeca highlighted all of my trauma so that I couldn’t see through to the love I was given, and yes, it didn’t help that we were our worst selves that day, fuelled by fear and regret, but when I’d gotten back into my car and drove back to the Claw, I knew. I-’ she drew another breath, trying to gain coherence; there was so much she had to say about that night, so much she’d packed away into a tiny little box in her mind, ‘when I walked in that night, I knew that I’d made the right call, that from then on, whatever near-death experience I was going to get catapulted into, I would always choose to stick around.’

She could feel her throat closing up a little, her voice thickening, ‘The love that I’ve gotten from all of you, and now even Ryan, has changed my life, and it has forever changed the trajectory of who I am, and I whoever I’ll be, and that’s something I’m only grateful for. I know I don’t tell you all that enough, but seriously, I am so, so grateful.’

The tears fall down Ace’s cheeks freely now, and in the vortex of them under a beautiful night sky with their hearts strung out in the open and them alone in between the woods, his reservations seem to lower just enough. His other hand comes over the hand of hers that’s still resting on his bicep, and he intertwines his fingers with hers, a soft whisper following, ‘Still, I’m sorry, what we said was really fucked up, there really isn’t an excuse for it. We all made the decisions that got us to being prophesied to die that night, and it wasn’t you. Nance, you didn’t bring us to our deaths like lambs to slaughter, it was on us, we chose to be there.’

It’s his turn to pierce right through to her heart through his gaze, conviction steady in his words, ‘You are not a cause, and you are not an omen. You are anything but that. And honestly Nancy, I don’t even fucking know what I’d do with myself if we lost you that night.’

Nancy feels relieved in a weird way, the vindication is anything but hollow and ingenuine, it feels good. She laughs lightly, trying to mask a little bit of the subtle discomfort she feels; she knows the sentiment would be undeniably the same the other way around (except Nancy knows that’s partly also because she can’t really comprehend the enormity of what Ace means to her, how he was somehow so much more than a friend), the heaviness in his tone makes the implications of the statement much more intimate that she’s ready to decrypt. ‘Well at least George wouldn’t have died.’

And there it comes, that exasperated ‘Nancy, using humour to cope with your trauma is not funny’ face comfortably settling on Ace’s expression before she’s even done with her sentence. She chooses to laugh it off again (and pretends not to notice how Ace’s fingers tighten around hers perceptibly more).

Neither of them lets go of the other’s hand, and Nancy eventually lays back down on her cushion, with Ace following suite, ‘Okay on a lighter note,’ she refreshes, ‘where do you see yourself in 10 years?’

He hums in thought, ‘Uh, I don’t really know, haven’t thought much about it really.’

There’s an awkward hitch to his voice, and Nancy knows he’s picked up on her picking up on it, and he concedes into a slightly more nuanced response, ‘I’d like to have the standard stuff y’know?’

She looks at him pointedly, ‘The standard stuff?’

He avoids her gaze, ‘Yeah, the standard stuff. I’d like to be in love, and if I’m lucky, possibly even married. And yeah, eventually something like two kids, a white picket fence, y’know, the whole thing.’

The response surprises Nancy for some reason; it’s such an open admission of domesticity, and she unintentionally pictures herself with him in his ideal.

‘You think it’s dumb.’

She’s frayed from her thoughts, and registers that she’d been quietly daydreaming for embarrassingly longer than acceptable, and that Ace perceived it as the opposite of what she was currently thinking.

‘What?’ Nancy tries to steady her heart beating frantically in her chest, the enormity of mapping her entire future with Ace now settling swiftly on her shoulders.

‘Oh my god, you totally think it’s dumb.’

Nancy tries to think through what feels like her brain is melting, ‘I do not think it’s stupid Ace, come on. It’s endearing!’

He looks at her unconvinced. She tries to centre herself, refocusing from the image of two toddlers with his wonderful hair and her fiery eyes, she looks up and away from him again, ‘I’ve always wanted at least two kids too, I never had any siblings, and I’ve always thought that companionship is really important when you’re young. A boy and a girl… would be nice to have someday.’

When she meets his gaze, there’s something indecipherable about them. She tries to not to let how intensely he’s looking at her waver her in staring back at him (but it’s hard, she feels her stomach jump to her throat).  

The finally, he speaks, ‘At least two huh? Never pegged Nancy Drew for the big house, big family type.’

There’s a hint of an endearing tease that laces his tone, and she knows it’s meant to annoy her; she chooses instead to be honest, ‘Yeah, actually.’

A small smile of satisfaction finds her lips as Ace’s eyes widen for just a second, ‘You’re not the only one who wants the standard stuff y’know,’ she says, imitating the tone he’d used, ‘I would also really like to be in love, married even, and settle down. Maybe here, maybe somewhere else. Either way, I definitely do want a legacy. And what better legacy to leave than to love the people you love, maybe even slip into a life with that one special person I love and work to be with, and hopefully they’re a best friend and someone I completely depend on, and I’ll get to create a family with them someday.’

She places intentionality in her last sentence, letting Ace know that maybe this person she hopes to have all that with isn’t some far away concept, but the wonderful friend and companion she’s been able to completely trust and depend on these last few months. His eyes seem to darken as he processes her words, blue pushed to the edges of his irises; she gets the feeling that he might’ve picked up on the implication.

There was no doubt that they’d been recently tip-toeing around what their friendship was evolving into; between Nancy recovering from the Wraith, Ace getting kicked out and Amanda breaking up with him, they’d both changed into such different people in just a few weeks.  They’d both seemed to realise that though their entire worlds had shifted axes, the two of them were the same – they were Nancy and Ace, detective and hacker, a mind racing a hundred miles per hour paired with a rational, calm decision maker, a comet free orbiting in space and the sun’s gravity that grounded it, two best friends. They were comfortable here, safe in the boundaries of their friendship that was a little more than friendship, in confessions through glances and grazes, where the fear of having to figure out how they fit with each other, who they were and what they wanted was too scary for them to consider. For now, the implication was enough.

‘Yeah,’ Ace seemed to agree, his voice a little dreamy, ‘someday.’

[checkpointcherry]

hiii :))) i really enjoy your work as well as your fanfics on ao3 and we speak sometimes on discord although that server is pretty dead rn 😭 i came across one of your other fanfics that was called "this side of the wall" i really enjoy it, it's very realistic. i was wondering if you had any plans to continue it? please no pressure of course :))

hi!!

i’m so happy you like my work, that means so much to me no matter how many times it’s said to me <3 also i’m sorry my fruk server is dead, i don’t really talk on discord because it makes me self-conscious lol.

i really really would love to finish that fic someday, at least in some form, because it means a lot to me and there are so many scenes i dream of writing. the reasons i’ve gone dark with it are 1) enough of my headcanons have changed (mostly becoming neutral on gerita and headcanoning gil as aroace) to where i’d want to basically restart it, and 2) writing is just very hard for me. even my fruk oneshots that i think of constantly are very hard for me to write, so you can imagine the frustration when it comes to a 5k+ word chapter of a work that i felt needed to be the best it could. i have very bad executive dysfunction when it comes to writing, it’s agonizing. and it is a shame because i have so many little interactions and scenes in my head that are begging to be written down.

i am honestly unsure if i’ll continue it in the form that it’s in, a huge part of me does want it to be complete someday because the latest chapter (from like a year ago 😭) is probably my favorite thing i’ve ever written. it just took so much out of me, but i still replay those scenes i haven’t written over in my head because i do absolutely love them.

[carakook]

Honey boo are you doing well?

How are you?

Please dont overwork yourself!!

OK LONG RAMBLE INCOMING ABOUT BLOOM BUT: This is so damn sweet. Not gonna lie, I’m a bit stressed out, and I nearly teared up when reading this because it’s so sweet that someone checked on me. You lil Angel!!! 🥲

If you care to know the long version of what happened to chapter 5 and why it’s so late, read below, if not, tldr is that I had to rewrite chapter 5 but it is coming I pinky promise. 🥲

I have avoided making an update on what happened with Bloom because it has me STRESSED and IRRITATED. I didn’t want to make it seem as if I was avoiding uploading chapter 5 and can’t stick to a schedule, because I fucking hate empty promises and being late. Especially since I have said I would upload it like twice now and haven’t. 🥲

Bloom Chapter 5 is still very much alive, however, I did not write it as a draft on Wattpad like I normally do. This is where I feel I fucked up badly. I integrated Bloom and Metamorphosis both into word documents so that I could have it all in front of me to reference as I write. Chapter 5 was finished (and nearly 16k words long), and I was planning on uploading it last Saturday at 11am central time. All I had to do was grammar check it.

As I was grammar checking it Friday night, my computer froze, and when I turned it back on it was not working at all. It would turn back on, and then it would freeze again shortly after. I could barely even open the browser. This was an issue not only because I was using it to write, but because that’s the laptop that I use for my job as well. I’m not very tech savvy so I had to do a bunch of googling and went as far as contacting my ex when trouble shooting everything google said didn’t work, (ew fucking gross holy shit EW!!! But he’s a computer nerd and I didn’t know who else to go to!) and he told me I needed to factory reset it and re-install windows and that should fix it.

I was unaware that in doing this, all of my files would be deleted if not backed up. And they were not backed up recently. I’m also pretty sure there was an option to keep the files I had on my computer but I didn’t pay attention when resetting it and reinstalling windows, I just clicked the buttons and hoped for the best. That’s my own damn fault. I was in a rush to fix it because I was panicking.

You can probably guess the rest. After resetting my computer, I found out that the most recent backup was when Bloom Chapter 5 was only 5K words long. And I tried for literal hours to see if there was a way to recover the file. But I couldn’t. Not only was Bloom affected, but Metamorphosis too. My computer is fixed now thank god, but I lost a good chunk of my work.

Metamorphosis was originally a reader x JK fic, but I wanted to change it because, as I stated in the poll, it’s a fic that is very specific and I don’t think a lot of readers could really relate to the MC. So I had to go in and edit the entire chapter and rewrite it to reflect that, and I also ended up adding things to the first chapter. But after the shit that happened to my computer, barely any of it is edited in the word document that’s backed up.

This was all very frustrating for me because not only did I have to re-write chapter 5 of Bloom but I also am going to have to re-edit metamorphosis.

I’m sure this could’ve been avoided some how but I was paranoid about my computer not being fixed in time for my job. I rely on it to work, without it I literally can’t do my job. And I have bills to pay. So I kinda freaked out and did this all very carelessly.

This is all on top of the irl stress going on in my life.

My point in this ramble is that I’m sorry Bloom Chapter 5 isn’t out yet. I have been rewriting it slowly since this happened last week, but it was kind of discouraging because I was really proud of what was written. But it’s ok!! As I’ve been rewriting it I’ve added some details that weren’t there before and sort of reformatted how the chapter goes. So it will still be just as good. And it’s almost done, I’m just working on the last parts of it.

Metamorphosis I haven’t touched. I’ve been focusing on trying to finish this chapter of Bloom before touching anything else because I know y’all are excited about it, I am too. I love writing Bloom but this kinda just made me ☹️

I’m sorry I haven’t been on schedule (lol I announced the schedule and didn’t stick to it, wtf), normally I’m very on time when I set a schedule for something, I’m rarely late. But I promise after chapter 5 comes out, it’ll be more consistent. And I’m making sure this isn’t happening again, I liked using word documents because I had every chapter in one place, but I’m not doing that shit again. I have actually just moved chapter 5 to a tumblr draft and am working on it there, because as soon as I write the last word I’m uploading it, and it won’t be lost that way if something happens to my dumb ass laptop. 😭

I’m sorry guys. I don’t wanna disappoint anyone. But I’m working on it I promise. And thank you for checking on me to who wrote this ask, you don’t know how sweet that is or how much it means to me. Irl I’m kind of a hermit, I don’t have many friends and I’m not super close to my family, and I work at home as I’ve stated before so I don’t go out much. So no one checks on me really. So thank you, really. I love you. 😭💜

After posting this, I’m working on finishing chapter 5. The moment it is finished I’m uploading it. I wanted to post this because seeing this ask made me feel better about explaining why it’s so late, and also I didn’t want you guys thinking I just wasn’t going to upload it. Anyways… I won’t make promises but I’m hoping to have it finished tonight and posted tomorrow night. Fingers crossed. 🤞

[rapha-reads]

For my contemporary cinema class, the professor gave us a list of 8 directors and told us to pick one and write an essay about an aspect of their work we want, any one. List is James Cameron, Steven Spielberg, Francis Ford Coppola, Sofia Coppola, David Lynch, Jan Svankmajer, Jim Jarmusch and Wes Anderson (I know, only one woman, even the prof was sorry about that). Essay is supposed to be 1k words.

I chose Jim Jarmusch because frankly even though I have watched many Camerons, Spielbergs, Coppolas and co, I have zero interest in writing about them. And Only Lovers Left Alive is one of my favourite films.

So I've decided to talk about the Gothic in general and the contemporary Gothic in particular in Only Lovers Left Alive. Because some 6 years ago when I was in third year in the Sorbonne I had a class called "Gothic in Cinema" that I really loved. Problem is. I already have 6 full hand-written pages of notes, and at least 4 more articles to read. For an essay of 1,000 words.

I'm gonna have to choose only ONE aspect, or 2 if I'm economic in my wording (which I won't be because have I said that this essay is in Spanish? yeah. there's that too) of the Gothic or of the movie, and it is killing me to sacrifice like that all the ideas I have floating around my head.

This film is fantastic! And the Gothic is such a deep, mesmerizing genre! There are so many things I could write about: the emptiness of Detroit contrasting with the life of Tanger, the music nervous and slightly electro in Detroit and antic and peaceful in Tanger, when Adam is the one rejecting modernity, all the tragic romanticism of Adam versus the quiet power and elegance of Eve, the colours, the shots like a classical or expressionist painting... There are so many elements! And I found an article by a professor of Writing Studies called "The Contemporary Gothic: why we need it", and this article is fascinating and gave me so many ideas, I could use only that one as a guide and write 5k words...

...

I had forgotten how frustrating and wonderful academia is. I missed it.