#or maybe I’ve already said enough without saying anything at all

[girlvinland]

Everything keeps feeling so off right now. I just wish I knew if I was being too overbearing.

[katsu28]

first time for everything

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: a lot of things were in the cards for oscar’s first home race. he just wasn’t expecting confessing his love for you to be one of them. (3.3k)

warnings: maybe a swear word idk

a/n: my first oscar fic! not sure if i've got his personality down quite yet but hopefully i've done him justice :)

“You’re nervous.” 

Oscar tore his attention from his phone camera, where he was messing with the swoop of his hair for what had to be the fifth time. He shook his head, though you could probably see right through him. “No, I’m not—I just didn’t sleep that well last night.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you were nervous for today.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“It’s okay to be nervous, Oscar. I’d be more worried if you weren’t.”

You were right, he was nervous about a lot of things—this weekend was his first home race, the first race you were able to attend during his time as a driver for McLaren. But the first thing he learned from competing at this level was to never let his nerves show. Put up a front, make it seem like he was cool as a cucumber so people wouldn’t doubt him, let his skills on the track do all the talking. 

Normally, Oscar was good about that. But you could see right through him. You knew him well enough to know how he was feeling and how to help, even if he himself didn’t quite understand it. 

The story of you and Oscar was quite the cliche, really. He knew of you through a friend of a friend and was instantly intrigued without even meeting you, managed to reach out, and the rest was history. 

You hadn’t even met each other face to face until a month into your constant texting, but when you did finally find the opportunity to meet up in person, it was like you’d both found the other half of yourselves in each other. While Oscar was more of a straight to the point, cut and dry kind of guy, you managed to bring him out of his shell a little bit, to get him to expand his horizons (within reason, of course). 

You were the opposite—always smiling, always happy to try new things, warm and sunshine-y and everything in between. Oscar toned you down without holding you back, reminded you to take a breather before immediately jumping into the next exciting thing, to enjoy what you had while you had it so you wouldn’t miss anything. 

He’d only just gained the courage to ask you out a few months back, but it only seemed fitting that you were here with him for his first race in front of his home crowd.

“It’s a lot to process.” Oscar admitted, letting his shoulders creep up towards his ears in a shrug. You leaned against him, looping an arm through the crook of his elbow and slipping your hand into his for a reassuring squeeze, pressing your chin against his bicep. “I just don’t wanna let anyone down, y’know? Wanna make everyone proud.” 

“You’re going to do great. I promise.” You said firmly, reaching up to push his hair into its perfect place. Oscar nuzzled into your touch on instinct, letting you cradle his cheek in the palm of your hand. Your thumb swept over his cheek a few times, lulling him into a sense of contentment. 

“Forget me. How are you feeling?”

“I’m excited! I’ve never done something like this before.” You replied, letting your hand drop. “And kinda nervous, but it’ll be fine, right?” 

“Yeah, ‘course it will.” 

“Have any sage words of wisdom for a first time paddock goer?” 

“Oh, you know me. Keep your head down, walk fast. There’s gonna be a lot of cameras, lots of fans, they’re all gonna want something from you. I’ll be with you as long as I can, so I’ll be there in case things start to get out of hand.” 

“Can I say hi to the fans?” 

“If you want to, yeah. They already love you.” 

That was another thing Oscar had to be worried about. Today was a day full of firsts, it felt like, because it was also the first time you’d be making your public debut as a couple. You’d already become a fan favorite when the two of you were just friends (two very mutually pining friends, no less), but making your relationship paddock official seemed daunting. 

Oscar wasn’t at all worried about what people would think. In fact, he didn’t really care. He was happier than he’d been in a long time and nothing would change that. What he was worried about was how you’d be treated. Oscar loved the fans, he really did, but there were always that handful who thought they knew him—knew what was best for him. Knew who was best for him. 

If he could protect you from any harm that could possibly be aimed your way, he’d do it in a heartbeat, but things could get so very unpredictable out there. The best he could do was keep you close. 

Your grip on Oscar’s hand tightened just the slightest bit at seeing the sheer amount of people outside the window. Noticing this, he rubbed his thumb along your knuckles soothingly. 

“You don’t have to come along.” He said softly. You tore your eyes away from the passing crowds to look at him. “There’s a back entrance, you can go through there.” 

“No, it’s alright! I’ll be fine.” 

“You sure? It’s okay if you're having second thoughts, sweetheart.” 

“I’m not, I promise. It’s kind of a lot, but nothing I can’t handle.” You said firmly, more for yourself than anything. Oscar squeezed your hand with a soft smile. “If you can do it, I can do it.” 

“There you go. You’ll be the star of the show. Everyone’ll be like Oscar Piastri who? There’s the most beautiful girl in the world, and just some guy.” 

You had to bite back a laugh at his words paired with the deadpan expression gracing his face. Oscar always seemed to know how to get you to relax. 

“Well, you’re the hottest just some guy I’ve ever seen.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, smiling at how his fair skin immediately flamed hot under your lips. 

Despite your previous hesitation, you looked entirely in your element as you made the walk hand in hand, looking around with bright eyes and an even brighter smile. Oscar couldn't help but watch you take it all in, not bothering to mask the awe in his eyes as he did so. He wouldn’t be surprised if photos of him looking at you made it to fan Twitter by the end of the day. 

Oscar was whisked away as soon as you got through to hospitality, giving him barely enough time to say goodbye to you before he was shuttled to meeting after meeting, press conferences and pre race interviews, a thousand things to do in the few hours he had before he had to get ready for free practice. 

He was already exhausted by the time he made it back to his driver’s room, pushing open the door with a heaving sigh. You glanced up at the commotion he was making, smiling at him warmly and setting aside your phone.

“Hey, you,” You hummed, holding out your arms towards Oscar as soon as he closed the door behind him. 

“Hi.” Oscar sighed, folding you into his embrace as comfortably as he could in the cramped alcove. There was barely enough room for one person on the bench, let alone you and your boyfriend with his broad shoulders. You shifted sideways to solve the problem, throwing your legs over Oscar’s lap, to which his hand immediately came to rest on your knee. “I missed you.” 

“Wish I could say the feeling was mutual.” You teased. Oscar rolled his eyes goodnaturedly, giving your leg a gentle pinch that you giggled at before leaning in to press a quick peck to his cheek. “I missed you too.” 

“What did you get up to while I was gone?” 

“Oh, so much! I took a walk around the paddock just to check everything out, and I kinda got lost, but someone helped me find my way back eventually.” You shrugged, not noticing the way Oscar’s eyebrows flew up into his hairline. 

“Wait, you got lost? Why didn’t you call me?” 

“You were busy.” You said, very as-a-matter-of-factly. He blinked at you slowly, a blank expression present on his face. “I’m a big girl, Osc, I can find my way around just fine.”  

That made Oscar falter. You were right. He cared so much, especially about you—so much so that sometimes he forgot you were entirely capable of taking care of yourself. 

“A lot of people asked to take pictures with me. Me! Isn’t that crazy?” You exclaimed, beaming bright. “I promised one of them your sweaty fireproofs in return, but that’s beside the point.” 

“You what?” He spluttered, eyes widening almost comically. His fingers froze in their fiddling with the rings adorning your fingers. 

“I’m kidding, obviously. Lighten up, Oscie, jeez.” 

Oscar rolled his eyes playfully. “Right, well I’m glad you’re having fun.” 

“You know what would make this day even more fun?” 

“I don’t think I want to.” 

You stuck your tongue out at him before continuing. “Can I meet Charles Leclerc? Is that something you can pull off?” 

Technically speaking, it would be extremely easy for him to pull off. All he really had to do was bring you over to the Ferrari motorhome for a quick introduction, and he was sure Charles would take a liking to you, just like every other driver you’d gotten to meet so far. You had that kind of persona; one that made people want to get to know you. 

Oscar quite liked that about you. What he wouldn’t like as much was you being immediately wooed by the driver’s seemingly irresistible French charm. And yeah, you were Oscar’s girlfriend and Charles also had a girlfriend of his own, but still. Nobody wanted to see the girl they loved fawning over another man, even one as cool as Charles Leclerc.

But Oscar would never tell you that, because he loved you, and he’d do anything to make you happy. 

“Uh…yeah, sure. I could probably get you an intro, if that’s something you really want.” He heard himself saying, scratching the back of his neck. His heart thudded a little harder in his chest at the way your face lit up. 

“Really?” 

Oscar smiled tightly. “Why not? D’you wanna go now? There’s some time before we need to be on track.” 

“That would be amazing, Osc.” 

“Right then, let’s go.” He nudged your legs off him, heaving himself to his feet with a groan that would usually be associated with someone much older than him. You threaded your fingers through his as soon as he finished popping all his joints like an old man, following his lead out of the room and the motorhome, all the way to the bright Ferrari red building a few doors down. 

Luckily, Charles was sitting at one of the tables in the main area, so you didn’t have to look far to find him. 

“Charles, mate, you got a second?” 

The aforementioned Monegasque tore his attention from his phone upon hearing Oscar’s voice, an easygoing smile already present on his face. “Oscar! What can I do for you, mate?” His eyes found you next, and he nodded politely. “Hello!” 

“Hi.” You said quietly, clinging to Oscar’s hand tightly. This feeling was foreign to you. You’d never been so stunned into silence by someone before, but maybe that was because you’d never met someone as well known as the Charles Leclerc. 

“This is my girlfriend. It’s her first time in the paddock and she’s a big fan of yours, figured I could introduce the two of you. Y/N, Charles. Charles, Y/N.” 

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard much about you!” Charles exclaimed, popping to his feet. He moved forward to embrace you, wrapping you in a warm hug like he’d known you for a long time, let alone just met you not even fifteen seconds ago. 

Oscar never really understood the whole hugging thing Charles had going on. Maybe it was a French thing. Either way, the hug seemed to have shaken you out of whatever starstruck daze you were in, because you straightened up. 

Charles smiled warmly. “Welcome to your first race. I trust they are treating you well over at McLaren?” 

“There’s definitely a few perks.” You replied, returning his infectious smile. You squeezed Oscar’s hand as you said it, and part of him felt a smidge proud that you considered him a perk. Charles laughed goodnaturedly. “I hate to sound so forward, but I wanted to say I love your music. The way you play piano is…the only way I can think to describe it is beautiful.” 

“Oh wow, you—thank you! That means a lot, thank you. Do you play?” 

“A little bit, but I haven’t had much time to sit at the bench lately.” You replied, giving a haphazard shrug. Charles nodded sympathetically, like he understood the troubles of carving out time to play. “D’you mind if I ask you a bit more about your inspiration while I’ve got you?”

“Of course, yes, yes, I would love to talk about it!” 

Oscar touched a hand to the small of your back to snag your attention for a second. He liked music as much as the next person, but not as much as you and Charles, it seemed. “I’ll be over there.” 

You nodded, popping up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek before returning to your animated conversation with Charles. 

Now, Oscar wasn’t a jealous guy by any means. On the contrary he was always quite calm and collected, so he thought he’d be fine. Secretly a little miffed, sure. It was nothing he couldn’t handle, but actually seeing you go starry eyed while talking to Charles sparked something inside him. He didn’t know how hard he was squeezing the can in his hand until he felt liquid trickling down the sleeve of his fireproofs. 

“Ah, shit.” He muttered, shaking out his arm frustratedly. 

“Stare at her any harder and she might burst into flames, mate.” 

Oscar glanced to his left to see Lando standing there, arms crossed over his chest, expectant brow arched. 

“Dunno know what you’re talking about.” Oscar grumbled, moving to toss the now crumpled can into the nearest rubbish bin. Lando looked wildly unconvinced. “What?” 

“Don’t feed me that shit, Oscar, you’re way too easy to read for me to believe you’re not absolutely fucking in love with Y/N.” 

Oscar made an offended noise from the back of his throat. “I am not easy to read.” 

“Mate, you’re the openest book in the history of open books right now.” 

“Openest isn’t a word.” 

“Whatever! Stop deflecting.” Lando scoffed, wrinkling his nose. “You love her. Tell her that.” 

“I can’t. I mean, I shouldn’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“What if it’s too soon? What if she doesn’t feel the same way yet?” 

“You’re kidding, right? Please tell me you’re kidding.” Lando groaned, letting his head tilt back in exasperation. Oscar squinted at him, unamused. “Oh, you’re serious? Mate, come on. Just today, in the half a day I’ve known her, I’ve seen the way she looks at you when you’re not looking. I see the way you look at her when she’s not looking. It’s obvious. You’re both obnoxiously in love with each other, and it’s sickening.” 

The corners of Oscar’s mouth lifted into a grin. “Really?” 

“Oh my god, yes, really. I mean honestly, how dense can you be?” 

“A lot, it seems.” Oscar cast another glance at you, feeling a lot better than he had a few minutes ago. You were laughing at something Charles had said, but now all that was running through his mind was how pretty you looked when you laughed. How happy you looked talking to a person you held a lot of admiration for. Professional admiration, nothing more. 

Part of him felt a little guilty. He should’ve been supportive the whole time, not sulking around being a jealous little prick thinking you would ever choose Charles over him. 

“No point in overthinking it now, bro.” 

“Since when did you become such a wise old man?” 

“Oi, watch it, you muppet. I’m only two years older than you.” Lando huffed, rolling his eyes. “And I’ve always been wise, thank you for noticing.” 

“Sure you have.” 

“Tell her.” 

Oscar nodded once, accepting the clap on the shoulder Lando gave him. “I will. Thank you.” 

“Of course. And if you ever need any more advice, come on down to Lando’s love shack, where you can get—” 

“Leave now, I’m begging you.” Lando took the hint, wandering away to go wreak havoc somewhere else, leaving Oscar alone with his own thoughts as he waited for you to finish up. It wasn’t long until you were making your way back over, practically aglow with excitement as you approached him. “Made a new best friend, have you?” 

You snorted, clearly amused. “Oh, of course. We’ve already arranged to go on a double date when we’re all in Monaco at the same time.” 

“Ha ha, very funny. You do know Ferrari’s one of our top competitors, right?” Oscar laced his fingers through yours once more, letting your joined hands swing between the two of you as you walked. 

“You know what they say—keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. Consider my blossoming friendship with Charles your way into the heart and soul of Ferrari’s strategies. You’re welcome.” 

You were just joking, of course, and it made Oscar smile. Lando was right. Oscar was in love with you. He tugged you off the main path suddenly, leading you to a more secluded area between motorhomes. 

“Osc? What’re you—” You were entirely cut off by him stopping in his tracks, and before you could comprehend what was happening, he was kissing you. He curled a hand around the back of your neck, the other coming up to cup your cheek gently. 

It was by all means a sweet kiss, but a completely unexpected one nonetheless. Oscar had never been a public display of affection sort of guy before, so for him to kiss you out of the blue where anyone could see you…well, let's just say there was a first time for everything.

To say you were taken aback was an understatement. You let out a noise of surprise, but returned his kiss wholeheartedly as soon as you realized what was happening. 

“That was new.” You breathed as soon as he pulled away, splaying your palms across the firm plane of his chest to steady yourself after he’d kissed the living daylights out of you. Oscar’s eyes fluttered open slowly, a dazed grin stretching his lips. “You feeling alright, babe?” 

“I love you.” 

Immediately, you beamed, lighting up faster than a bonfire on a warm Melbourne night. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Well, it’s about damn time you said it.” You poked his chest playfully, stifling a giggle at the way he did the biggest double take ever at your words. 

“You—hang on, what?” 

“I was waiting for you to be the one to say it first.” You shrugged. Oscar’s brow scrunched in confusion now. “Didn’t wanna scare you off and lose one of the best things in my life.” 

“So…you do feel the same way?” 

You reached up, smoothing a stray curl away from his forehead fondly. “Do I love you? ‘Course I do. I think I’ve loved you since the first time we met.” 

“That was a good one, I should’ve said that. You’re so much better at this than I am.” 

“What can I say? I’ve got the best just some guy as my inspiration.” 

“I see what you did there. That’s gonna become a thing now, isn’t it?” 

“Oh, Osc,” You sighed, patting his cheek affectionately. “It already has.” 

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[forzalando]

you were in my dream

request: random playlist shuffle request from @maplesyrupsainz!! maddie - i already told you this but i wrote this because i love you hahaha and maybe i will add carlos back into the list of drivers i write for. tbd. we will see what the people think. i hope you like it, love you lots💛💛 song: you were in my dream by laur elle summary: you have a not-so-friendly dream about your best friend. enough said. pairing: carlos sainz x f!reader wc: 1.5k warnings: cursing, descriptions of steamy makeout, 17+

Carlos was, to put it mildly, very confused.

He had passed you a total of 17 times today while running around for media duties, (yes, he was counting) and each time you turned away from him as if he was a complete and total stranger.

You weren’t in a mood – he could see you chatting with Charles, briefly hugging Oscar, laughing with Lando and Max, all of which, admittedly, left a piercing pain in his chest and a disgusting jealous feeling swirling in his stomach.

After another hour without a word from you, Carlos made his way round to every person he’d seen you speak to that day – hoping that they might have some insight into what was going on.

Lando, of course, smiled as he saw his friend approaching, but soon noticed the frown on his face as he walked closer.

“Is she angry with me?” Carlos exhaled, not even a hello or how are you for his close friend.

“Is who angry with you?”

“Y/N! She has been ignoring me all day – I saw her with you, with Charles, with Oscar, with every person around. But me? It’s like I don’t exist.”

“She didn’t say anything specifically but now that you mention it, she did seem a bit flustered when I asked if she knew where you were.”

“Ay dios, what did I do? I walked her to her room last night after dinner and everything was perfectly fine!”

Meanwhile, you were hiding in the back of the Ferrari garage, a fairly secluded spot that you’d discovered earlier in the day. Successfully? Not at all – it only took Alexandra three minutes to find you sitting in a corner with a Ferrari jacket haphazardly thrown over your frame. She’d tried to coax you out, but only when Leo wiggled his way into your lap did you show any signs of life and break your silence to coo at the perfect little dog.

“There she is,” Alex smiled. “Now, tell me and Leo what you are doing hiding over here all by yourself?”

You groaned and handed Leo over to his Mama, using your now free hands to hide your heating face. “Oh god, I should’ve just stayed at the hotel. I thought I would be fine, this is so embarrassing.”

“Que s'est-il passé? You didn’t seem unwell at dinner last night, did you get sick in your room?”

Alex’s frantic mix of French and English and her worried expression made you feel even more guilty – this was dramatic, so beyond dramatic, but you were in a downward spiral and maybe she was just what you needed to yank yourself out of it.

“No, I…I had a dream,” you muttered. “It’s so stupid, but I don’t know what to do! How to act! I’m genuinely freaking the fuck out, Alex.”

“A nightmare? Are you afraid? Oh, Y/N, that’s not stupid but you’re safe here. Do you want me to go get Carlos? He’ll want to know what’s going on – ”

“NO,” you shouted too forcefully. “No, please don’t go get him, I can’t even look at him right now. You have one dream about your best friend and suddenly you can’t function.”

“You dreamt about Carlos? I don’t understand, what did you – ” Alex’s voice trailed off, a look of realization crossing her face.

“Oh, oh,” she smirked. “Y/N, you naughty girl!”

“It wasn’t even like that, we were just making out on his couch, ok heavily making out on his couch, and I can’t look at him without my stomach flipping or fearing I’m going to start drooling. He’s one of my closest friends, I’ve never thought about him like…that.”

“Oh come on,” she rolled her eyes. “Never? Not once? In three years of friendship?”

“Maybe once or twice,” you mumbled guiltily. “God, what’s wrong with me? I can’t stop thinking about it – his arms, his mouth, everything, it felt so real.”

“Is now a good time to tell you that I think you have feelings for him and you’ve been pushing them down? Because you think he doesn’t feel the same? And this dream is just everything spilling over?”

Your mouth fell open and you scrambled for a retort – anything to say back to her to refute her claims, but all you could do was sigh and shake your head.

“I’m so pathetic,” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Mi sol, don’t say such things,” a familiar voice chimed from behind you. Before you could get to your feet to make an excuse and bolt, Carlos plopped down next to you. “Now, no more running away from me, ¿bueno?”

“I’ll find you later,” Alex called out sweetly as she hurried away, Leo’s ears flopping comically as he barked back at you.

The heat of Carlos’s body next to yours made your stomach turn, his arms so close to you, almost as close as they were when they were wrapped around your body, holding you tightly against his chest, heavy breathing in your ear and –

“Y/N? Are you listening?” He nudged his shoulder against yours lightly, ripping the mental image away from you.

“Yes, I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“I want to know why you’ve been avoiding me. Why are you so angry with me?”

Your face fell instantly – guilt creeping in and taking over from the other feelings. “Oh, Carlos, I’m not angry with you. I had a dream and you were in it but it’s unimportant, I was being…ridiculous. I’m sorry, mi querido.”

Carlos brightened at the use of the term of endearment – not uncommon at all between the two of you and a sure sign that everything was fine.

“You don’t have to apologize. If I made you uncomfortable in your dream and you needed space, that is perfectly fine. I just wish I would have known before I panicked.”

“No, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, you never could.”

“Well, then what was I doing?”

You swore the garage grew ten degrees hotter – a bead of sweat forming on your neck where hickeys would have been if your dream had been as real as it felt. A heavy swallow and a deep exhale, you looked everywhere but at him, suddenly intensely interested in the spare tires to your right.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his breath hot on your neck, his hand cupping your chin to turn your head gently towards him. “Dime.”

All it took was one quick flicker of your eyes down to his lips for a smirk to spread across his face. Before you could even breathe, his nose was bumping against yours and the closeness of him made your head spin. 

He kissed you so softly, gently, his hand cupping your face and his thumb gently rubbing back and forth. So different from what you’d shared in the depths of your mind the night before but surpassing it exponentially in every conceivable way – dreams would never come close to this, never compare to the reality in front of you.

A shout from somewhere in the garage caused the two of you to jolt apart, the sudden realization of where you were sinking in quickly. 

“How did I compare?” He asked cheekily, rising to his feet and offering a hand to pull you up after him. 

Your head was still spinning - your chest heaving from a fairly innocent kiss, god, you were wrecked. Carlos, however, took your silence as the exact opposite - doubt crept into his mind, worried that he’d read everything wrong and let his own feelings guide his actions. 

His sweet, doe brown eyes searched yours for something, anything, to ease his panic. And then, you smiled - wide, bright, blinding, and lovesick. 

“You were perfect,” you finally answered, a sigh of relief leaving Carlos at the sound of your voice. “But, I would’ve preferred the dream setting. Comfortable couch, no prying eyes, no Ferrari polo, among other things.”

“Other things?” Carlos pressed, a wicked grin on his face.

“Yeah, you told me you loved me,” you whispered.

His lips morphed into a soft smile - gone was the playfulness and tension, replaced by tenderness, adoration, and something saccharine. You felt his fingers brushing against yours and reached out to let him grasp your hand in his, the warmth of his palm grounding you in this moment.

“I can do that,” he admitted bashfully. “But, not here. You deserve more than that. When I’m done we can go back to the hotel, grab dinner, and…talk.”

You smirked, mimicking his tone from before. “Talk?” 

“Among other things.”

The sound of your laughter followed Carlos as he walked towards his team, urging them respectfully to get him through the rest of his day as quickly as possible.

[sukunas-wife]

i just wanna start and say that i luvvv ur blog and the dad sukuna fics are giving me life (🙏🏾). plsss could i ask 4 a scenario of yuuji being a menace 4 once. like 1 of the things he and sukuna can agree on is that no one touches or speaks 2 momma without permission, but a new servant doesn't know that?

🤔 I see what’s going on you want Yuji to bite people well he NOT KINDA BRAT, he latches on and shakes his head like a feral dog 😭😭 grrr

Idk what I was doing and where my plot came from I think I just pulled it out the air 😭

“Lady Y/n!” You turned looking over at the eunuch who had been persistently following you all week. The poor young man according to the servants and your hand maids had grown “quite fond” of you. You looked over at Yuji, he had long run into the garden, sighing when your hand maids were stuck between going after Yuji or staying by your side. You waved them off when the eunuch got closer, “Ah, feels like I’ve been seeing you a lot lately. Especially outside the Palace walls.” You looked past him and he smiled, eyes becoming lidded. Silence filled the space and you gave him a sympathetic smile, “Did you need something or did you just run all this way to greet me Kamo?” You risked your arms into your sleeves eyeing the way he fidgeted with his hands. “I guess I came here just to greet you Lady Y/n..” he looked away, the blush on his cheeks was proof enough your ladies in waiting were right… Before you could dismiss him he spoke up with a hopeful look, “would you mind if I stood by your side for today Lady Y/n?” As much as you hated the idea of letting someone who’s not your husband or son be by your side all day, you had to think about it. You should say no because it would look bad if anyone were to notice him constantly at your side. Second, you don’t want to make a bad impression on Sukuna, he was your husband and you didn’t want to make him believe the rumours running around his own Palace.

“I appreciate your eagerness but the answer is no. I’m spending today with Yuji and I’m not allowing anything to take away from his time.” You dismissed him with a wave and he still smiled, “It’s alright, thank you Lady y/n. Maybe I can join you for the next time you feel like taking a walk in the garden.” You had already turned away but he held out hope, “Thank you for the offer Kamo but you really should get back to work.” You look over your shoulder at him with a faint smile, he nodded and ran off back to place and into the Curses den. The poor kid didn’t see Lord Sukuna lurking about watching the entire scene unfold. Sukun watched as you smiled over your shoulder in his general direction making his chest swell with pride, he knew he didn’t have to worry about you. It was that fool of a eunuch who would need to be taught his place.

————-

Yuji was by your side pulling your sleeve’s, “cmmooonnn mooomm Wanna goooooo” he ended up falling and lying on the floor looking up at you. He was spread out and he huffed. “I don’t want that eunuch to come he talks too mucchhhaaaahhh” his whine turned into a scream while he shook his head back and forth on the ground, “Yuji baby get up your gonna dirty.” You tried to help him up and he just laid limp in your hold, “Are we leaving now?”

“Yes we can go before Kamo shows up if you really don’t like him THAT much.” Yuji laid there while you tried to stand him up before he got “Mkay let’s go.” Yuji took your hand guiding you to the door and right when he opened it there was the voice that made him squint over his shoulder, “NO! GO AWAY KAMO!” You were amused how Yuji stuck his tongue out at the Eunuch while trying to drag you through the door into the garden again. You didn’t fight him and let him drag you doing your best to keep up. When he finally stopped, Yuji looked around, even jumping to look over a bush, “daddy doesn’t like him, he says he tried to talk to you toooo much.” He was waving his hands around exaggerating his point, “he said next time he tried to get close to take you away or fight him!” You watch as Yuji looked up at you holding little fists, his little round face was full of determination. You could help but kneel and place your hand on his head running it over the side of his face cupping his cheek. “Yuji you don’t have to worry about fighting that poor eunuch, there is nothing I would choose over you or Ryomen.”

He shook his head back and forth vigorously “nuh uh! Daddy said you’d say that and I shouldn’t listen!” You hugged Yuji, confusing him “awww my little Yu.” He leaned against you taking in your hug. “What else did daddy tell you, hm?”

———

There you sat with your husband, dressed up in vibrant Junihitoe with over 20 layers. Sukuna wore his usual attire, you were holding onto one of his arms listening to him talk about how Yuji had done well in his own training and along those lines. It was well into spring when the days were getting hotter and becoming longer summer days. Sukuna watched how you’d fan yourself closing your eyes for a brief moment of relief before leaning your head on his arm. He could feel your heat and there was no doubt in his mind it was all those layers in your silly little robes. He had a great idea, slowly he led you inside where you found relief out of the sun but those layers were still clinging to you in uncomfortable ways. When you were going to pull away Sukuna pulled you back into his side leaning down to whisper into your ear, “Now let’s get you out of those robes, your skins burning like all those nights I spent memorising every curve of your body.” The flush on your face flared up when you held onto him tighter, burying your face in his arm, “Ryomen!” You tried to scold him while he led you to the large bathing room. He took you in kissing you once the door was closed, he spared no time in stripping himself taking a step into the pool of cold water. A second step his hands were on your waist while you held his face kissing him, he mumbled against your lips “Let’s get these off of you.” He pressed his lips against your neck grazing you with his teeth, you tried to hold in your giggles when his hands opened your robes, letting his hands run over your sides while he bit into your skin sucking and marking you with a bright red mark, grazing his teeth over your skin when he made it to your chest. Your laughed and playful whispers could be heard outside the room and it left nothing to the imagination of what could be happening. This was a sign most servants took as “Don’t interrupt Lord Sukuna and Lady Y/n.” All except for one who walked in immediately after knocking. Kamo.. he was damn lucky Sukuna was just starting to slide your robes off your shoulders, you would’ve tried to push yourself away from Sukuna but he was your husband, what did you have to hide. Sukuna was too proud of his own physique to even think about maybe committing some form of decency. There you stood in his tight hold pulling you closer to the water, he rested his chin on your shoulder looking past you right at Kamo. He was smug about his situation, staring right at the eunuch, “What is it Kamo.” He couldn’t say anything, just staring at the both of you trying to think of something before Ryomen became annoyed, “I’ve killed better people for less,” he stood up, a set of arms still holding your waist and robes in place, there was no missing that Ryomen was in fact a man gifted not once but twice. He took that to his advantage when he noticed Kamo take a second look after he stepped from around you, “Speak now or lose your life, you better have a damn good reason for interrupting MY time with MY WIFE.” Just as Kamo was going to speak up, Yuji came running “Daddy DADDDY DADDY!” He stopped seeing his dad standing there in his full glory, “naked naked naked!” He closed his eyes when he pointed and laughed at his dad who just dead panned before turning to the eunuch, “Stop staring at my wife before you lose your living privileges and bring some towels.” He sent Kamo off and Yuji was still laughing behind his hand seeing his dad naked. You closed your robes, “Now that you're here Yuji you do need a bath.” You snatched him up before he could run out the door, Sukuna rolled his eyes “Great interrupted by the Eunuch and now that he’s gone you invite the brat.” Sukuna stared unamused as Yuji stripped jumping into the water, “‘m a fish”

———

It was a few days later when you were talking to one of your ladies in waiting and Yuji saw it. The way Kamo approached you reaching out to touch you to get your attention. He went running and screaming, the three of you turned to look at him, each of you confused until you noticed Yuji wasn’t running at you. He was running at Kamo who was about to touch you without your permission. It happens in slow motion how he jumped, little legs wrapping around his knee, the way his hands were clinging to the eunuch. He opened his mouth wide, threw his head back and made an exaggerated biting sound before he latched onto Kamo’s side. Your lady in waiting was shocked and you were just as speechless watching the eunuch try to pull Yuji off only for him to bite harder. Through the yells and little growls you could hear “don toufch mhh mhmmy” and he went back to shaking his head left and right.

Finally you came to your senses and tried to help take Yuji off of him, just as you took hold of Yuji Kamo winced and managed to hit you. Yuji let go and gasped very dramatically, he slipped out of your hands when your lady in waiting ran over to you to see if you were okay. You stood up holding your cheek staring at Kamo, as much as you’d like to take blame for Yuji biting him he shouldn’t have been trying to touch in the first place. You saw Yuji with his fists up “YOU HIT MY MOMMY” he swung hitting Kamo right in his manhood.

It didn’t take long for the word to spread, before you knew it Sukuna had you sitting in your seperate room. Yuji was going to follow his dad out of the room until he gave him a silent look, making him turn around and run back to you. He stood in front of you laying his chest and arms on your lap looking up at you with a small smile, “you're so pretty mommy.”

You laughed at his words shaking your head with a smile, “Aw my little prince Yuji here to make me feel better hm?” He stretched his arms up so you’d pull him into your lap. You did and he smiled at his reflection, you were sitting in front of the vanity in your room. He pouted looking up at you, “you okay?” He started to bite his finger when you looked down at him with teary eyes, you couldn’t help but feel like it was your fault in some way. “Yeah it’s just been a long day Yu.”

He hummed, swinging his legs and falling limp in your arms, “daddy said he’s gonna fix him..” you were confused there was no doubt in your mind Ryomen would kill the man on sight once he faced him.

Time passed to the point that both of you got bored of waiting and ended up on the bed listening to Yuji ramble about how he was so cool and how could beat Sukuna in a fight. One day he was gonna have his own big temple and you could live with him because there wouldn’t be nasty old eunuchs running around.

“Hey brat, that's my wife, she's not going with you to your house or anywhere at all.” Yuji was quick to jump up and run over when you slowly sat up on the bed, “Dad!” Sukuna grabbed him by the back of his shirt pulling him up and onto his shoulder giving him a little bag, Yuji opened it, looked in and closed it throwing it on the floor making a loud “eeeewww”

Sukuna looked at you, you looked back at him, he didn’t seem too happy. He walked over to you bringing his hand up, you didn’t look away when he took your face in his hand shaking his head.

“I’m alright Ryo…” his thumb rubbed your cheek, “He’s not.” Yuji shivered, leaning over on his dads head to tell you “Look in the bag.”

Sukuna side eyed Yuji who looked away, “what’s in the- the balls he had that made him think he could lift his hand.”

“But he’s a- he wasn’t, he became a eunuch a few hours ago and now he is gone.” Sukuna’s face was smug when he flipped Yuji off his shoulder and onto your bed, “Now there’s something I want to finish that he interrupted.” He nodded at the door and you felt your face heat up, “y-yeah.” Yuji was busy laughing and rolling over in your bed to notice his parents little game of bedroom eyes.😭

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[cozage]

Omg I hope it’s not too late! Happy 2K yayayayay it’s been really fun watching you grow 😭. I remember when your blog was pretty new and I asked you for advice on how to make my own and you said try not to make a 2nd blog. I was wondering if I could have option 1 with a S/O who dated the monster trio but they broke up so now they are trying to win their heart back.

A/N: still my greatest regret is making this a secondary blog but it all worked out! Hope you are doing well :) thanks for being along for the ride.  Characters: gn reader x Luffy, Zoro, Sanji Total word count: 1k

Get You Back

Luffy

Luffy tries his best to move on because he thinks that's what you want.  Even though he hates going to bed alone and not sitting next to you at dinner, he tries to get over it. 

At first he acts like nothing happened. He still runs to tell you stuff as soon as he finds out something, and he always wants to take you on adventures. Sure, you broke up, but you’re still nakama, right?

Nami explains to him that you need some time before things will go back to a sense of normal, and Luffy agrees to give you space. But god, he hates it. He’s so lonely.

One night, he can’t take it anymore. He knows it’s your night to keep watch, and he joins you in the crow’s nest. He knows he should let you be, but he has to try one more thing. 

“Do you think you’ll ever forgive me?” he asked, looking out over the stars. 

“I’ve already forgiven you, Luffy.” Your voice is sad, and he knows that you’ve been lonely too. 

He turns to look at you, eyes wide and heart beating hard in his chest. “Do you think we’ll ever be together again?”

“I-” you stop, captivated by his wide, hopeful eyes. “I don’t know,” you answered truthfully. 

“I miss you,” he admitted. “I miss you so much. I hate going to bed and I hate not being around you during the day. I hate when I find a cool bug and I can’t show it to you, or when we visit an island and you don’t join me on an adventure. I just want things to be normal again. I’ll do anything, please.”

“I want to be with you, Luffy,” you said. “I just-”

He lunged for you, his lips attacking you with desperation and eagerness. You can feel his words turning into actions; you can feel how much he has longed to kiss you and touch your skin again. And maybe, just maybe, it’ll work out this time. 

Zoro

Zoro didn’t think you were serious when you said it was over. So, when he went into his room and couldn’t find any of your things, he was confused. 

He sought you out, curious. “Hey, where’s your stuff?” 

But you just rolled your eyes. “Get it through your brain Zoro. Unlike you, I say what I mean. We’re over.”

Oh. That last fight had been a breakup fight. Now he understood. 

But he saw the pain in your eyes. He knew you didn’t want this outcome. So he’d just have to prove that he was worthy of you 

He doesn’t beg for you back, but he keeps his word with everything he does. 

When you ask him to do something, he does it. Hell, even if the cook asks him to do something, he does it without complaint (especially if you’re in the room). He always keeps his word. Always. 

Part of him acts like nothing happened. He still shares booze with you, naps near you, laughs with you. But he won’t ask for you back. Even if its the only thing he wants.

After about a month, he’s had enough. It’s just the two of you on the ship, watching the Sunny as the others run off to the island. 

“When are we going to go back to normal?” he demands, storming up to you. “Don’t you think we’ve been apart for too long?”

“I told you, Zoro-”

“Don’t say it.” His voice was gruff as he pushed you up against the wall and pinned you there with his own body. “Please, don’t say it.”

“We’re bad for each other,” you whispered, trying to ignore the mess of emotions you were feeling at the moment.

“We’re not,” he argued. “I swear we’re not. Let me prove it.” His lips hover over your mouth, waiting for permission. “Please, let me prove it.”

“One more cha-” His lips crash into yours, and you find yourself melting into the touch you had missed so much over the past few weeks. 

Sanji

This man is the best at apologies. He knows no shame and smothers you in love. 

Every morning, you get an immaculate breakfast. Your snacks and desserts are the ones he knows you adore. You are pampered beyond your wildest imagination (which is impressive after dating Sanji for so long. You thought you had seen it all.)

Fresh flowers at your bedside every morning (where is he getting all of these flowers??). Rose petals lead to your bedroom at night. You’d think you were on a honeymoon.

It’s almost annoying. It’s almost too much. But Sanji knows when he’s starting to become annoying, and he’ll let up slightly, just long enough for you to calm down. And then he’ll start back up again. 

The biggest thing for you though, is the next time you go onto an island. 

His eyes stay on you. They hardly even linger as he walks with you, Nami, and Usopp through the shopping district. 

If any pretty ladies walk by, he doesn’t even bother to look. He’s so captivated by you that he doesn’t even notice anyone else. 

While your back is turned or while you’re shopping, he doesn’t even gawk at any islanders (Nami and Usopp watch him for ANY hint of flirtation. There is NONE.)

He only vanishes for a brief moment in a jewelry store, coming back with a little bag of his own. “Cufflinks,” he explains. “My other ones broke.”

When you all get back to the ship, he pulls you aside and gives you a bracelet full of aquamarine stones that reminds you of his eyes. 

“Please, be mine again,” he begs, holding the box out. “It hurt to breathe without you. I need you. Please.”

“Sanji,” you breathe out. “It’s beautiful.”

“Just like you,” he whispers. “Y/N, I’m so-”

You jump into his arms, pushing your lips against his. You missed that sweet taste of vanilla that was always on his tongue, and you had a feeling you wouldn’t ever have to go without it again.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi, so I am a lover of angst, hurt/comfort is my favorite. Anyways if it is okay may I please request an injured gn s/o (maybe s/o took a hit meant for them) either Sunday, Dan Heng, Argenti, basically as many or as few of the hsr men as you want. But if you don’t want to do this that’s okay, you are the author after all so yeah. Anyways love ya and have fun darling /lh

Sunday: he doesn’t take news of your injury lightly. At all.

You getting hurt was unacceptable and Sunday will let that be known as he demands a search party to look for the person(s) responsible for your injury.

He becomes incredibly suffocating during your recovery period. He will want to do everything for you so that you’d never have to raise a hand yourself.

He’s waiting on your hand and foot as he slowly grows more and more infuriated with the lack of progress made with the hunt search for your attacker.

He’s been told not to focus on such trivial matters and pat more attention to matters regarding The Family, but in his heart of hearts Sunday knew he couldn’t fulfil his duties as head, not when you were bed bound by your injuries and rendered helpless.

It’s not the first time he’s been reprimanded for such behaviour and actions before, but at some point Sunday just didn’t care enough to head those warnings as he spent most of his time feeding you, bathing you, clothing you and overall monitoring your health as he didn’t trust anyone outside to do so without the usage of foul play.

He’d might even use this as an opportunity to show you that you were never going to be safe if you stray from his side, for he couldn’t protect you if you were to wander far from his sight.

He wants you by him 24/7 and if you were to go anywhere, it was to be with his approval and administration.

Was this controlling? Yes but he was doing this for you, don’t you see? Nowhere is safe because everyone knows your relationship to him and they’ll use that to their advantage. He can’t keep you safe if he doesn’t know where you are all the time and if he had it his way, you’d never leave the house at all.

Sunday knows best, so you’d be wise to listen to him from here on out.

Argenti: utterly heartbroken and enraged that someone would dare hurt his beautiful flower.

He doesn’t take your safely lightly.

It was his solemn duty to protect and preserve all things beautiful and you were high up on his list of priorities.

He honestly wouldn’t know what he’d do without you, his rose, his most beloved and the most beautiful soul he’s ever gazed his eyes upon.

He makes up for the fact that you were injured by staying by your side, offering reassuring words throughout your healing journey, and always being there to catch you when you fall.

He’d even go as far as forgoing taking care of himself in exchange for making sure that you were bathed, clothed, fed and so on. He looks perpetually tired but yet so beautiful with that soft smile gracing his lips as he gazed at you with all the affection he could muster.

You naturally had to force him to take a break from caring for you and have a power nap with you instead as you couldn’t stand another moment more of Argenti ignoring his own needs for your own.

‘I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you my flower. I’m meant to be your knight, but you became mine instead when I got distracted in battle.’ He says.

‘I’d gladly be your knight all the time in gratitude for everything you’ve ever done for me Argenti.’ You replied softly, holding his hands and watching him melt into your touch, revealing in your warmth. ‘So please don’t take my injury to heart, even though I know you’ve already have. I just don’t want you blaming yourself for something that happened out of our control.’ You finished as you pressed a kiss to his forehead.

‘I can’t promise anything dearest, seeing you hurt wounds me deeply as though I’ve been the one injured instead, but I’m willing to try. For you my heart.’ Argenti said and he truly meant it, but during the heat of battle that’s when he took his position as a knight seriously, as he would guard you with everything he had whsilt also staying true to his chivalrous nature.

Dan Heng: the moment he saw you get hurt, he’s mentally zoned out as his body takes over as he finds himself hovering over your body protectively, weapon in hand.

He refuses anyone to get near you as he’d lash out on instinct to protect you, his beloved.

He hates, no, despises the fact that he couldn’t protect you and will blame himself for it, until Welt has to step in and tell him that this mindset isn’t the mindset he should be having right now, not when you needed him as your pillar during your recovery.

That snaps Dan Heng out of it really quickly as he focuses on helping you recover and he takes that responsibility seriously. Though that never stops the guilt that he felt whenever looking at your healed scar, it served as a reminder of his greatest failure in protecting someone he loved.

It sickened him that after all this time he could still be proven to be weak in moments where he needed to be strong. He feels as though he’s failed you as a partner, but you never hold it again him as you reassure him while softly kissing his face.

‘It’s not your fault Dan Heng.’ You’d tell him frequently.

‘Then why does it feel like it is?’ He asks as his eye linger on your scar with melancholy.

He was so close to loosing you that day that whenever you were to fight, Dan Heng would be close by watching your back and covering your weak spots like he was made to know your fighting style as intimately as he did.

Nowadays he’s over protective and hovering over you 24/7 from the shadows, fae enough to give you space but close enough to protect you should the need arise.

He’s still trying to make up for the fact that he failed but to himself rather then anybody else, for no one held him more accountable for your injury then himself.

[stevebabey]

Eddie has a test.

It took some time to formulate, a few too many times with guys careless with his heart, who leave behind more heartache than happiness littered in their memory. It’s fucking hard to tell.

More than once, there’s been a dude who promises between kisses i’m not going anywhere and takes more than his fill during a night which Eddie desperately hopes is passion and not some misguided lust. Only to wake a familiar empty side of the bed, them gone — skipping town, back in the arms of their parent-approved girlfriend, or back to spitting his name out with the word freak.

It’s what the test is for.

It’s specific, purposeful, all intending to weed out the straight boys who liked to dip their toes in the pool of queerness and leave Eddie to any consequences of the heart. Eddie doesn’t want to turn cruel, to be too jaded after feeling used too many times. It’s what the test is for. Protect the heart, see what interest is genuine.

Right now, he’s putting the test on Jared. New in town and in Eddie’s life, he’d captured the metalhead’s gaze from the glint of his pierced ear and light eyes that lingered. Kissed a little mean, and with too much teeth, but Eddie chalked it up to excitement. Jared seemed good. Nodded and smiled when Eddie found himself wrapped up in yet another DnD spiel. Said he found it endearing.

The test is simple.

A bid, a nudge, for attention. Never anything big or too exciting— that always got him specifically warped smirks designed to lead him along. Just something minuscule, like will you come take a look at my notes? or can i play you that riff once more? to see if it gave.

The pattern runs deep in Eddie’s dating history; same ol’ jerks who couldn’t bother to come and look at his new DnD sketches are always the ones who are only leasing a new sexuality for a month. It’s like setting a minefield and seeing who stumbles on a landmine, the bids getting ignored is as early as a warning sign he’ll ever get.

He tries the test on Jared.

It’s a Thursday night and Jared’s round at the trailer, lounging on Eddie’s sheets and still a little flushed from the night’s earlier activities. Usually it’s a good sign when the guys stick around after sex, not flying out the door once they’ve got what they want. By now, Eddie has drifted away from his bed, skittish thoughts already off and away with new campaign ideas.

He’s scrawling in a character design, some new boss, half troll, half hellhound, that requires a lot of finicky details worked out. The page is covered in scribbles, nothing in any semblance of lines and a crude first sketch is in the middle. It’s not quite the vision he had in mind but it took him an hour, so he’s hardly going to erase it. Besides, it looks pretty fucking metal to him.

“Hey,” Eddie calls out, a bit soft. No pet-names used— most of the time boys didn’t like them and wrinkled their nose. Those that didn’t mind, never returned them. “Can I show you the sketch I’ve been working on?”

He pauses, then launches into an explanation without waiting for a response, “It’s for the new campaign I’ve been planning, one of the bosses, and honestly, those little shrimps have no idea what’s coming for them.”

Jared, still slouched on the bed, peeks up a bit at the noise. He hadn’t really been doing much, just leafing through some of the junk beside Eddie’s bed. If Eddie let himself hold any hope, he would say it’s because he wants to know more about Eddie.

“Huh?” Jared asks, genuine enough that Eddie thinks maybe he didn’t hear him.

��A DnD boss?” Eddie says, eyebrows raising. He barrels on, thinking about how Dustin had helped propose the new boss, with a grin spreading across Eddie’s face. “Dustin, the little twerp, challenged me to pick a random combination of creatures and mash em’ together- see what crazy abilities come from it.”

“Who’s Dustin?” Jared asks, failing to sound like he cares. His eyes have wandered elsewhere, head falling back on the pillow and Eddie’s initial question about the sketch is long, long gone.

Oof. And that’s like 3 failed bids at one time because Eddie talks about Dustin all the time. Jared clearly isn’t interested in Eddie Munson, just what he can offer. Eddie’s heart grows a little colder.

“Look, I think I’m gonna get going, yeah?” Jared says, maybe sensing Eddie’s mood change as he begins to sit up and tug his shirt back over his bare skin. His sticks his feet in his shoes, laces them up. Eddie nods, tucks his notebook behind him and walks him out, plastering on a smile the whole time.

After ambling down the stairs to the trailer, Jared turns back, after searching the surrounding area for leering eyes, and he reaches out and gives Eddie’s hand a squeeze. Just a split second, before it flies back to his side.

Eddie would like to believe that he’s at least worthy of a goodbye kiss. Even if some wicked part of his brain says he’s not, that boys like Eddie Munson don’t get sweet goodbye kisses. Don’t get good relationships, just mindless flings.

The thought makes hurt flares in his gut, Eddie so desperately trying to protect his hope, and so before Jared can say anything, some pitiful goodbye, Eddie leans out the doorway and says, “Don’t call me.” then slams the trailer door.

It follows him around for the next week, his own personal storm-cloud to keep his head grey even when it’s sunny out. He mopes to Robin about it during her shift, probably the only other person he can talk to about it.

“So, you tested him? What does that even mean? Is there a gay test you know about that you haven’t told me about? That would be so uncool, man.”

She’s talking as she types, half paying attention to the computer. Steve is out in between the shelves, putting out a new batch of films— Eddie knows because he’d instinctively sought him out when he came in. Harrington was a pretty boy, sue him for wanting to enjoy the view.

Didn’t help he was also decidedly declared not-a-douchebag by Eddie during the whole upside down spiel and had the duality of biting off that bat’s head and somehow being the world’s biggest sweetheart for his friends. Friends that now included Eddie.

 What can you say? Going through that much together, including killing a death wizard and getting dragged out of an alternate dimension certainly forms some strong bonds. Plus, Steve was hot.

(Eddie denies the crush on the basis that would. never. happen.)

At the reminder of Vecna, Eddie winces and supposes he should be lucky he gets any sort of attention after that whole scandal. But it doesn’t stop him from draping himself across the front counter, laying pathetically with a pout on his lips. He shakes his head fervently at her question.

“Not a gay test, Robin.” He stresses. “It’s the Eddie-Munson-is-this-boy-gonna-stick-around-test.”

He rolls up onto his elbows and props his head into his waiting palms. “Gotta make sure I’m not being treated like some common whore.”

It’s meant to be a joke, a usual joking lilt to his voice, but the end of the sentences comes out a bit too bitter to land that way.

Robin’s sympathetic expression makes Eddie’s chest twinge in a way he doesn’t like. He waves her off. Slumps back down a bit before deciding he’s done enough wallowing in the public eye.

Robin doesn’t say anything as he pulls out his usual notebook, pages weathered and filled. Eddie usually hangs around the store on days without plans, flits between Robin and Steve, and scribbles in his notebook. She bites her lip, gaze moving between the book and the resigned expression on Eddie’s face as he turns to the latest page— the strange hellhound troll mashed up boss.

“Okay, I’ll bite—what’s the test involve?” She asks, pausing in her typing for a moment. Her hands don’t stop moving, still stressing the fabric of her pants twitchily. Eddie perks his head up, clutching his pencil a bit tighter and rolls right into it.

“It’s not even really a test, technically, but doesn’t matter- that’s just what I call it - it’s like a bid?”

Robin raises her brows and they disappear under her fringe. “A bid?”

“Yeah! A bid!” He waves his arms around as he speaks, gesticulating a bit wildly. “It’s like— like asking them to come look at something stupid and small, just to see if they’ll give your interests time of the day, yanno?”

He punches a finger down into his sketchbook. “A guy who can’t even be bothered to look at a sketch I worked on for an hour? Douchebag.”

Eddie’s tone turns a bit sing-song as he continues, like it’ll somehow distract from the bleakness of them. “Ergo, not sticking around.”

Robin’s hands finally stop their messing, becoming completely still against her legs. She finally swivels her body to face Eddie, a furrow between her brows. Her lips are quirked up, just a bit, like she knows something Eddie doesn’t. He feels his apprehension grow as he slumps his chin back into his hands.

“You mean, like how Steve is with you?”

Eddie stands a bit straighter at that, some flushed combination of disbelief mixing with delight flooded his body.

“What?” It comes out a bit more squeaky than intended. Eddie clears his throat, waves his hands, anything to stop that smirk from spreading across Robin’s face — he can feel his cheeks glow a bit warmer at the mere idea. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Robin smiles a bit and nods over to where Steve is. “Try it, test him.”

Eddie follows her nod, casting his eyes across the store to find Steve. He finds him situated in the romance section, a pile of cardboard box stacked beside him, the top box open and ready to be unpacked.

But Steve’s clearly been distracted by the first film in the box — he’s sunk deep into his mom-stance with one hip popped, one hand on his hip, the other holding the film as he reads the back cover of it very intently.

Eddie watches for just a moment, watches Steve squint and pull the case just a bit closer, wrinkle his nose adorably, snort a little laugh at whatever he’s reading — and dammit, this is just a fast track to insanity if Eddie watches him any longer.

“Steve,” he calls, too hesitant and too quiet. Steve’s head doesn’t move, he just flips the cover back over, marveling at the front. Eddie tries again. “Harrington!”

Steve’s head pops up, eyes skirting about to see who’s calling him. He doesn’t move when he sees it’s Eddie calling, just raises his brows. “Yeah?”

Eddie swallows, tries not to think of Robin paying close attention to both him and Steve. He grips his notebook a bit tighter even though he’s not entirely convinced Robin’s right. Steve Harrington doesn’t like DnD — not even for Dustin who has self-proclaimed himself Steve’s ‘adorable little brother that he never had’. Steve is hardly going to care if it’s Eddie asking.

“Do you wanna take a look at this sketch I’m working on?” He asks, as casual as he can.

Steve’s features give away just a hint of surprise, a blink as he comprehends what’s been said. Eddie holds his breath, ready to turn to Robin and say ‘I told you so!’ and to pretend that he’s not secretly hoping Steve will say yes.

“Sure,” Steve says, slotting the film back into the cardboard box and beginning to meander between the shelves towards the front desk. Eddie doesn’t even get time to be surprised because Steve’s suddenly there, in front of him, all expectant.

Eddie opens his mouth, thinks the better of it, and snaps it back closed. Instead, he thrusts the notebook to the side along the countertop, opened to the page of the sketch and doesn’t say anything. In the background, Robin snorts lightly. Eddie shoots her a glare.

If Eddie could look at Steve, he’d see the lightly amused expression on his face, but Eddie only focuses on the book. Really focuses. God, if he looks at Steve he’ll probably get some stupid mooned expression on his face that would totally give away his tiny stupid not-a-crush.

In his peripheral, he can see Steve sidle a little closer and lean over to peer at the page. And while he looks over it intently, Eddie let’s his eyes drift up, taking in the side of his face.

Curses his stupid handsome face. Then curses it some more when Steve lights up in recognition, turning to Eddie, excited to have a sliver of an idea what Eddie’s showing him. Normally, it’s all mumbo-jumbo to Steve. Not that he hasn’t tried to keep up but those kids are ahead of the curve and Steve wasn’t about to embarrass himself asking them to slow down their explanations.

“Woah, is this that one that Dustin was talking about?” Eddie thinks there might be a bit of genuine excitement leaking into Steve’s words.

“The weird like, mashed up, uh, what’s the word? Hyp- hypb—“

“Hybrid,” Eddie supplies, voice cool. His heart is not feeling so cool. Jesus Christ, Steve wasn’t supposed to pass Eddie’s test— he wasn’t even supposed to be tested. In order for that happen, they’d have to even be fooling around and Eddie blames his building blush on that mere suggestion.

“Yeah!” Steve raps his knuckles against the countertop and takes a second look at the drawing, closer this time. He looks back up at Eddie, so he knows he’s completely sincere when he says, “This is really cool, man.”

“Okay.” Eddie breathes, sounding a bit stupid. He remembers himself, remembers Robin watching him essentially bluescreen at the praise from Steve and wrenches his awed smile into a familiar smug type of grin. 

“Of course it is, Steve-o,” He quickly amends, reaching back and tugging the notebook back. It’s closes with a quick snap, like Eddie’s afraid Steve will take another look. “She’s not finished yet, of course.”

Eddie had to bite his tongue to keep it from either taking an insanely egotistical route to pretend Steve’s praise hadn’t had a profound effect on him, or even worse, start trying to suddenly be humble — oh this ol’ thing? it’s nothing really, just threw it together quickly— Eddie nearly melts against the counter in relief when the bell on the front door saves him.

A customer enters the store, instantly taking Steve’s attention and he bounds off to help them, an easy smile on his face.

Eddie waits until Steve and the customer wandered off into the aisles to release his breath. He doesn’t look at Robin, just turns and presses his forehead down against the countertop. Then raises it just a bit, and thunks it back down, a couple of times for good measure.

“Okay, okay—“ Robin’s gone a bit wide eyed and she waves her hands at Eddie’s pathetic form, his head still bonking against the counter. “Stop doing that. Jesus, Eddie, are the dramatics always necessary?”

His motions stop at Robin’s words and Eddie’s whips his head up. He narrows his eyes at her, and as if to prove his point, exaggeratedly jabs a finger at her.

“Hey! Never deny my right to be a drama queen. It is my god given right as an American citizen—”

“He passed.” Robin says, cutting off what was about to be a very long rant about god knows what. Eddie just didn’t want her to say what she was about to. “Your test. He passed, didn’t he?“

That. He didn’t want her to say that.

“He’s being a good friend! A very good nice friend!” Eddie counters, only sounding a little bit whiny which takes half the conviction out of his words. He slams his hands down against the wood. “That test is for— it’s not for him! It’s for—”

An annoyed noise comes out of Eddie’s throat and he aims for one more thunk of his head against the counter before tugging it back up and meeting Robin’s smug expression. She’s too smug. Her whole face is smug smug smug and Eddie scowls. He points a deliberate finger at her again.

“Different context, alright? That—” He waves an arm behind him, in the direction of Steve carelessly. “—doesn’t count. Nope. Not- that’s not how the test works.”

Robin sighs, as if she realises how fruitless it is to keep chucking this argument between the two of them. Her hands finally resume their typing and Eddie lets his head drop again, this time resting it against the wood a tad more gentle. He slumps, blowing a pointless raspberry as he tries to evacuate every thought that’s entertaining Steve as more. Or Steve wanting more of Eddie.

“Look,” Robin says suddenly, halting her typing once more. Eddie rolls his head so he can see her but doesn’t bother to lift it. She’s sideways in his vision, but still barreling on in that Robin way. “One last thing and then I swear, I’ll leave it.”

Eddie raises his brows. Says nothing.

“Have you considered,” She pauses, and appears to be trying to pick her words carefully. “whether anyone else is putting their bids on you?”

Eddie wrinkles his nose, knowing exactly what she’s hinting at. Subtlety has never been Robin’s strong suit. It’s even more obvious when her eyes dart across the store — Eddie seriously doubts she’s talking about the random customer that had just entered.

“Just think about it?” She pleads, and Eddie feels his annoyance at how easily he can feel his heart roll over. “See if you notice any bids from... anyone! Anyone at all.”

Eddie picks his head up, chances a glance towards Steve and admits, there’s no harm in trying. Even though, Steve had surprised him today Eddie can find a dozen reasons to chalk that up to. A dozen reasons that don’t include mutual feelings.

Eddie mulls it over, because because what are the chances really? Steve putting bids out to him? To specifically Eddie? The chances are slim to none.

So the answer he gives is, “Sure.”

He’ll get to tell Robin later she can stuff it and wipe her smug expression off with the most righteous i told you so on the planet. There was no way she was right about this, right?

Part two. Part three.

[literaila]

how do u think satoru would react to reader in a depressive episode, especially what do u think the kids would do

obviously, they’ve all noticed.

the past couple of weeks have not been lived through ignorantly. and you have not been acting normal.

the differences are just that, at first. tiny inconsistencies in your otherwise normal personality, your routine.

and then it becomes more than just a… change.

it starts off simple; megumi’s brows furrowing when you ask him a question—something about his teacher, or what kind of drink he wants in his lunch that day—and then forget what you’ve just said as soon as he answers.

tsumiki watching, smiling along idly, as you rub your temples, sighing with every other sentence and squeezing your eyes tight like you’ll be able to wake up if you try hard enough.

and satoru noticing when you linger in your room a bit longer, as the days pass. staring when you freeze looking at the wall in the morning, zoning out so hard that he has to shake you back to life.

just an accumulation of things that might indicate that something is up.

but as these moments—moments when you’re lost in your head, trying to conceal your entire being from all of them, and pretending that it’s all normal—increase, the three of them learn a little something about observing.

and lying to themselves, of course.

eventually, though, when megumi or tsumiki inevitably say something—usually when you’re not in the room, off hiding somewhere—satoru just shrugs.

(he’s going to lie his way through this, just like everything else, thank you).

“it’s a bad day,” he’ll say, like the two children will comprehend that. like they don’t know what a bad day means. “she’s just tired.”

he could make a million excuses for you. oh, you didn’t get enough sleep last night. oh, you’ve only had one cup of coffee today. oh, the world is a truly terrible place and it’s only natural that it runs you down.

but he leaves them with the simplest of explanations, instead. maybe it’s his subtle way of denying that there’s anything wrong. that you could be upset about something. it doesn’t matter, anyway.

and tsumiki, ever so trusting of all of you, listens to him. if satoru says that you’re okay, then so does she. she’ll draw you a picture at school or try to help you make their lunches in the morning, but you’re fine. her questions end with an answer.

megumi, on the other hand, has never believed a word that satoru has said.

so when the older man swears that you’re okay, that they don’t need to worry, megumi only begins to worry harder.

he sees that look on your face when you walk in the room, and megumi knows. maybe it’s because he’s the most attuned to you, out of everyone, in particular. maybe it’s because he’s observant, or too worrisome for his age (as you tell him).

but he knows.

and if satoru says one thing, megumi’s going to believe the other.

(plus the two of you have always had a symbiotic relationship. you worry about him, and he worries about you. you laugh at him, and he gives a little lip twitch in return).

so satoru is not surprised when megumi brings it up for the fourth time in a week.

“you want me to what, exactly?”

“you can talk to them, can’t you?” he repeats, giving satoru a bland look. something like ‘are you serious.’ “they know you.”

satoru snorts. “i don’t think my bosses will appreciate me telling them what they can or can’t do.”

megumi gives him another look.

and yeah, so satoru already does that. they still don’t appreciate it.

he sighs, smiling at the boy. anything to mess with him, really. he ruffles megumi’s hair. “kid, she’s fine. i can’t just tell them to give her a couple of weeks off. there has to be a reason. and,” he adds, cheerfully. “i’ve been told it’s impolite to speak on someone’s behalf without their input.”

“you don’t care about being polite,” megumi argues, crossing his arms.

satoru groans internally. he’s really not going to let this go.

it’s not that satoru necessarily disagrees, but anything he does to help you is going to be refuted with a “butt out,” or “leave me alone, satoru.”

“true,” he says, grinning as he mocks the boys stance. “but i do care about being yelled at. particularly by your mother.”

“she needs a break.”

satoru rolls his eyes. “she’s getting one. the next couple of days are free, and she’s taking a nap right now.”

megumi frowns, even deeper than usual, and stares satoru down until he breaks.

“megumi,” the man groans, childishly, pushing the boy out of the room. “you don’t need to worry about her. chill out. just go back to reading about rocks or whatever you were doing.”

“it’s geology.”

satoru waves a hand, indifferent.

(secretly trying to come up with a way to get you to talk to him. he can’t ask because you’ll just ignore him. he can’t force it out of you because that would get the two of you nowhere.

what other options are left, really? you’ve put satoru in a terrible position).

“then can we get something, instead?” megumi asks, almost pleading. “flowers, or… whatever girls like.”

“y/n already has flowers. i bought them.”

“buy something else.”

“who taught you to be this stubborn?”

megumi only scowls at him.

satoru sighs, scratching his head. he knows he should do something—but he’s so used to sitting around and waiting for you to fix everything.

yes, he does recognize that it’s a terrible habit, and completely unfair. he also recognizes that he is the worst person in the world.

eventually he sighs. “okay. how about i order dinner?” he asks, almost wincing. it’s the most natural response—everything can be fixed with food, in satoru’s sophisticated opinion. “that’ll be easy. want to go ask mom what she wants?”

megumi practically runs to your room, leaving satoru with no time to remind him that you’re probably asleep, knocking just briefly—from what satoru can hear—before going in.

he tip-toes up to the door, also wanting to check in.

satoru is nothing if not nosy.

and he might as well let megumi do all of the dirty work.

“um, i don’t care,” he hears you saying. “whatever you guys want.”

“it’s for you.”

there’s a pause. then, “really, megs, i’m not very hungry, so…”

megumi is frowning down at you when satoru steps in.

“good nap?” he asks, smiling and sitting at the edge of your bed.

“you don’t need to get dinner. it’s my turn.”

he waves a hand. “i feel like takeout.”

you frown, about to argue when megumi speaks up, glancing between the two of you with an almost furious expression.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice soft but mad. like usual. satoru realizes that he’s been tricked into contributing to this.

“what?”

“why are you upset?”

“upset?” you repeat, eyes widening. “i’m not upset, megu—“

“are you sick?”

“no,” you say, immediately. “i’m just a little tired but it’s—“

“megumi,” satoru interrupts, trying to ignore the almost hurt look on your face—the glance you send his way, pleading and worried. he knows you hate this the most. “let’s let mom sleep some more, okay? tsumiki and you can decide what you want—“

“no.”

and neither of you can argue, or console the confused boy, before he’s climbing into your bed with a determined look on his face.

satoru tried to grab on to him, but megumi is having none of that, shaking him off before he can get a good grip. you’re looking at satoru anxiously, and this is the worst.

if satoru knows anything about you, it’s that you don’t want to be coddled. you don’t want to accept any help, even if it’s from your sweet, concerned son.

“megumi—“ you say, though, satoru notes, don’t make any attempts to move him when he struggles to get under the covers with you, or when he just sits by your side, barely touching you.

“i’m staying here.”

“really, bud, i’m okay. you don’t need to worry about me.”

“you’re sad.”

“i’m not.”

megumi looks at you, and satoru watches as you both share a glance. an internal conversation he’ll never get to be apart of.

for once in his life he’s not even jealous about it.

“it’s…” you say, but the two boys watch as your shoulders slack and your face drops. all at once, you lose color, life, and just sit there. “it’s fine.”

you say it to them, but it sounds more like a reminder to yourself.

satoru’s face falls. he has no idea what to say, what to do to help you—he’s spent so much time denying that there was anything wrong, that he could do anything to help, and now he’s got no answers.

he feels like an idiot, sitting there. megumi shouldn’t be taking more initiative, he should be the one worrying about you, the one to go to—

megumi doesn’t say anything though. he only moves closer to you, not complaining when your arm wraps around his shoulder and you hold him to you.

like a life vest. a support in all of the vastness.

he doesn’t need to say ‘it’s okay,’ or ‘i’m here for you,’ for the words to ring out across the the air.

and, satoru realizes, quickly, he’s only doing what you do for them. what you do best.

climbing in beside them and making sure they know that they’re not alone. being that support, no matter how unwanted.

megumi’s learned from the best.

“sorry,” you mutter to him. “i know im gross.”

megumi shakes his head and settles into you even further. and the boy doesn’t cuddle—or, at least, without being forced—but your face softens as he leans against you, allowing this kind of intimacy.

and, maybe, satoru thinks, that’s the problem with all of you.

no one knows quite what to say. what to do to help someone with something that they can’t understand. neither he or megumi is sure how to dig you out of this hole.

none of you are very good with words.

but, at least, satoru knows how to be good at this.

he sets his glasses on your bedside table, and he moves you both over with ease, smiling when you both grunt at his intrusion.

and then you’re a tower of people, all leaning against one another. building blocks stacked on top of each other.

you relax into satoru almost instantly and he kisses the top of your head, feeling some sort of pride—just at the fact that you’ll let him be here, with you.

maybe that’s the thing with families, he thinks. no one needs to say anything for it to be okay.

and the uneasiness sits there with all of you. the past couple of weeks—the distancing and disassociating—linger there.

there’s nothing he can say to make everything all better. he could destroy the entire world right now, save for your house, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

but this is nice. a hug might not fix everything, but it won’t make anything worse

and after a minute or two, you say: “where’s tsumiki?”

and she peeks her head out from your door, smiling at all three of you. it takes her three seconds to jump on the bed, having been waiting there the whole time, the final piece to your messed up puzzle.

[imaginedanvrs]

thrown to the wolf

masterlist

word count: 2.2k

warnings: toxic relationship, manipulation, dubcon, fingering, praise, overstimulation

“I cannot fucking believe you,” Natasha spat, glaring at you in a way you had never seen before. She was the master at concealing the face of her emotions, only ever letting a select few peek behind the mask she wore. You were one of those few who had seen her genuine smiles amongst sly smirks and suggestive grins, the rare moments of crippling fear, sadness and now anger. 

  “After everything she’s done? You’re going back to her like none of it ever happened? Like she never-” You couldn’t let her finish. You couldn’t hear her bring up the past when you were so close to finally moving past it. 

  “She apologised for that,” you said quickly. Natasha’s gaze hardened. “She told me that she’s getting help. She’s changed. I think she deserves some credit for that.” Your words came out as a plea. 

  “She doesn’t deserve shit.” You averted your gaze from your friend, not liking the doubt she was placing in your mind. You knew how it looked - going back to an ex you had cried to her over countless times. But you had been talking to Wanda for a few weeks and it really did seem like she had changed. She had asked you for a second chance and after seeing how much she wanted it, you decided to give her that. It wasn’t like you hadn’t missed her. 

  “This is just another one of her lies, I thought you would have learnt to spot them by now,” Natasha continued. 

  “She told me you would say that,” you muttered. 

  “Of course she did!” Natasha all but yelled. You shrunk back on instinct, one that Wanda had brought about. “Do you hear yourself? Or is she already that deep in your head?”

  “She’s not like that anymore!” You exclaimed, wishing Natasha could see Wanda’s potential like you could. 

  She’s changed, you told yourself again because you had heard the Sokovian say it so many times. 

  Natasha scoffed. 

  “I sat by you for months,” she began with a slow deliverance that unnerved you. “I was your shoulder to cry on. Most people go to their partners for that but you couldn’t because yours was the problem. I begged you to leave her and I was so fucking happy when you did. I thought it meant you were going to be able to move on to someone that actually gave a shit about you. Now I see that that could never happen because you don’t want that for yourself. You’re addicted to heartbreak, y/n, so the next time she hurts you don’t you dare come running to me. I’m done.” 

  Natasha gave you one last glare before she left, leaving you alone to call the only person you could. 

*

“Shh, I’m here,” Wanda cooed as she stroked your hair and kept her other arm draped over your trembling form. “She doesn’t understand us is all. You’re in the right place now. You’re okay.” You hiccuped through your tears and clung to your girlfriend tighter. Her shirt was wet with your tears and you felt guilty but Wanda hadn’t said anything, too focused on comforting you. She put you first, because she had changed. 

  You whimpered in response and Wanda continued her unwavering reassurance. Maybe distance really had made your heart grow fonder as you could’ve sworn your girlfriend’s voice had never soothed you as much as it did in that moment. It washed over you and you bathed in the safety it enforced. 

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she told you. You smiled against her. 

  “Me too,” you mumbled. Wanda hummed, lifting your chin so she could look at you clearly and wipe the tears smudged across your cheeks. You closed your eyes at the intimate touch and leant into her palms. 

  “You should stay the night.” You agreed without much thought, wanting to stay close to your girlfriend so that you wouldn’t feel so alone without Natasha. You wondered if she really was done with you and couldn’t believe that getting back with your ex was reason enough for her to do so. Yes, Wanda hadn’t been great in the past, but that was a different time. 

  “I’ve missed having you here,” Wanda continued as her hand wandered down to your waist where it settled with her thumb beneath your shirt. You weren’t uncomfortable with the touch, but you were aware it was there. “I never stopped loving you, you know?” You tried to prevent your body stiffening at her words, knowing that she would immediately feel it, but the confession was one you were hoping not to hear at least not so soon. 

  You and Wanda had had that issue last time. Wanda moved too fast too soon and although it was easy to blame being a stereotype at first, it quickly became something more intense than you could handle. Once she broke out the l word, Wanda thought you could instantly move in with her and applied the pressure to do so. Once you finally gave in you also unknowingly gave up your privacy which Wanda had deemed totally normal. You shook the thought from your mind, she had changed. 

  “You don’t have to say it back,” she told you once you remained silent for a moment. 

  “It’s just…” you played with the duvet absently as you considered your words and tried to convince yourself that you didn’t have to walk on eggshells anymore. “I thought we were starting over so it’s a little soon to be-”

  “Yeah,” Wanda cut you off with a slight strain to her voice. You looked up and the Sokovian gave you a smile of reassurance that wiped the hesitance from your mind enough for you to settle back in. 

  The thumb under your shirt was joined by several fingers that caressed your skin lightly and you grabbed the tv remote to distract yourself for several minutes before you selected a sitcom that Wanda seemed to be in the middle of rewatching. At your selection, the redhead placed a small kiss on your forehead. 

  It didn’t take ten minutes for her hands to begin to wander further up beneath your shirt. “Wanda,” you murmured when her fingertips grazed your bra. You didn’t trust how your skin felt electric under her touch. You were meant to be taking things slow. She hummed in acknowledgment as her fingers danced across your back and settled on the clip of your bra. “Wanda,” you repeated, voice firmer this time as you looked up at her. 

  Then, her hands went to the backs of your thighs as she sat up in the bed and manoeuvred you to straddle her lap, bringing your faces centimetres apart. You clung to her shirt as your breath hitched, caught off guard by the way the emerald in her eyes glistened with excitement. “I missed you,” she told you again, slipping her hand behind your neck to close the distance between you. She tasted just as you remembered and kissed you with that same vigour. She always kissed you like it was the last one or as if she had a point to make, always so unrelenting. 

  “Wait,” you muttered when she briefly paused to let you breathe. Her lips were on your again before you could continue. It was dizzying. So much so that when she finally moved away to kiss your neck you still couldn’t get your words out. 

  “Slow down,” you eventually managed but Wanda didn’t appear to be in a listening mood. 

  “You want this,” she told you when she dragged your shirt over your head. “I want this,” she continued, laying you down on the bed as she kissed the valley between your breasts. You had always been so weak to her advances, unable to ever deny her even if you were feeling too tired from a long day or pained from a workout. Wanda had a way of making you forget everything except your need for her, as though she had engrained herself in every fibre of your being.

  When you looked down at her, you were left in only your underwear and Wanda was pulling her own shirt off to expose the lace she wore beneath. You didn’t get a chance to admire it because she was on you again, latching her lips onto your nipples as her hand snaked between your legs. She chuckled when she felt the damp cloth of your underwear. 

  “Still so needy,” she murmured. “You haven’t changed.”

  “Have you?” Your voice was shaky but you knew the redhead heard you. She didn’t answer, instead pushing your underwear to the side so she could rub your clit that pulsed under her touch. You were familiar with that game - using sex to distract you from your doubts. It was pathetic that it still worked. 

  Wanda dragged her long fingers down your slit, collecting the slick before pushing two fingers inside and groaning at the tightness she was met with. “Have you let anyone else touch this pussy?” She nipped at your neck as she steadily pumped her fingers into your cunt. 

  “No,” you admitted. It had always felt like a betrayal when you had gotten close, despite being broken up with Wanda for a year. You wouldn’t tell her, but you had still thought about her when you got yourself off at night. There was a lot to be said about your past relationship with the Sokovian, but no one had ever fucked you like she did. 

  “That’s my good girl,” she praised, sucking a deep mark into your neck, as though she couldn’t wait more than twenty four hours of you being back together to mark you as hers. You didn’t want to know if that blind devotion went both ways. You weren’t ready to be met with that telling avoidance again. So you leant into your girlfriend instead. 

  “All mine,” she continued as she began to thrust her fingers harder, reaching deeper inside you than you could yourself. 

  “Yours,” you muttered because you really couldn’t help yourself. You didn’t care that you were adding fuel to the fire as long as the burn of Wanda’s touch didn’t stop. You would have to deal with the consequences later. 

  “I love you,” she said, breath hot against your skin. “I know you love me too.” You pulled Wanda away from your neck and kissed her desperately. If she was going to keep playing her games, you were going to at least try and win a round. You seemed to take the redhead by surprise when you slipped your tongue into her mouth but she didn’t freeze for more than a second, unrelenting on giving up any of the control you were fighting for. She bit on your lip and pressed her thumb to your clit while her fingers found that special spot that made you shudder. 

  “I love you,” she repeated, as though her win had made her giddy and she wasn't in the middle of making you a mess. You whined, clenching around her digits as you felt your orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Wanda knew the signs of you squirming and stilled her fingers inside of you. 

  “Wanda,” you whined, giving her a pleading look that only made her smirk. It was unfair how hot she was when she was arrogant. 

  “Tell me you still love me,” she demanded. You tried to look away but she grabbed your jaw with her free hand. “I know you do. Tell me the truth and I’ll let you cum.”

  “Wanda,” you tried. She flexed her fingers, pressing so hard against the back of your pussy that your back arched off the bed. 

  “Tell me,” she repeated, eyes glazed with a dangerous need that you had always been guilty of encouraging. 

  “I love you,” you admitted. There had been times when you hated Wanda, yet you never stopped yearning for her. You were tangled in an insatiable knot that you never really tried to escape from, not when it felt so good to be trapped. 

  “Cum for me, detka,” Wanda instructed as her fingers resumed their unbashful rhythm that made your body preen and eventually release onto the redhead’s fingers with a cry. “Give me another,” she demanded as soon as she added a digit and continued to finger you deep and hard. Your body followed her cue, wrapped around her and clenching for more. 

  You lost count of the amount of orgasms she coaxed from your submitted body, each one more tiring than the last until your body was shaking even when she wasn’t touching you. Every spare breath you had she stole with a kiss and although both your bodies were covered with a thin layer of sweat she still pulled you flush against her when she deemed you had enough. 

  You watched with hooded eyes as your girlfriend sucked on her digits, moaning softly as your taste overcame her taste buds. She grinned at you before it turned softer, more tender, and placed a kiss on your shoulder as she held your frail frame. 

  “Just as sweet as I remember,” she chuckled, because nothing had really changed. 

[luveline]

i hope you’re feeling better jade!!🫶🫶

i’d love to request zombie!au steve of when he starts to realize he has feelings for reader if you haven’t already done smth like that

zombie au —Steve has some deep thoughts about you. 1.3k

“How are you feeling?” 

Steve bats a branch out of his face. “I’m okay.” 

“Yeah?” You hold the next branch out of his way. “Sorry, guess I’ve asked you that too many times today.” 

Four times, by his count. Steve takes a deep breath, the warm summer air filling his nose, the smell of earth and tree bark an assault for the senses. He has the heavy backpack strapped tight against his chest, the buckle rubbing his skin raw. His thin t-shirt offers no protection. Your coats have been packed away in the second backpack hanging from your left shoulder. You carry the canteens on your right, all six of them heavy with fresh water. You don’t complain. 

“I’m fine, I swear,” he says, squinting at the white sky. 

“You won’t say anything if you don’t feel fine. I just… I don’t want you to throw up again, and I think we can avoid it if you take it easy. If you’re not feeling up to it, that is. Not that you’re not feeling up to it.” 

Steve softens at your overexplaining. You’re used to caring about him a lot and having him snap back at you. He can’t explain it, not without deep introspection —is he emasculated? Defensive? Or just worried he can’t take care of you?— so he doesn’t think about it if he can’t help it. 

It’s harder to ignore when you worry about him. 

“I don’t feel sick,” he says, a promise as he bats another low branch aside and guides you into a clearing, where he pauses. 

“Okay, good.” 

Steve spent the last two days throwing up and recuperating in a shack of a house a few miles back. He gave himself food poisoning eating spaghetti hoops he should’ve known were bad. He doesn’t remember the first day in detail, too busy yacking and feverish, but he does remember your hand on his back. Your gentle hand, your careful fingertips. Remembers you stroking hair away from his mouth. 

It was the first time he’d realised you were his friend. It’s a shameful thing, to have been with you for this long, and to have been ignorant to you this whole time. It’s not that Steve thought you were evil, he just never let himself think about you too much. Never enough to think Hey, this girl I’ve brought with me, she’s good to me. She’s kind. 

He knew you were, obviously. It’s complicated. It’s giving him a headache. 

“Maybe we should stop here.” 

A few days ago he would’ve said No way, are you dumb? You can’t stop here, a clearing doesn’t protect you from the elements, nor a hoard, but he knows you know those things and peacocking his survival skills won’t actually keep you safe. 

He has to stop being in survival mode. Or, in huge jerk mode. 

The feeling of your face pressed to his chest as you slept, each exhale a warmth that settled him. Later, your hand feeling against his forehead, sure he was asleep. You love him. He’s not sure what kind of love, but you do. And he loves you, too, but he’s not sure what kind of love it is either. He estimates that it’s the feeling that comes with surviving a traumatic event (or, in your case, many events) together, caring for each other, tending to each others wounds, mixed with the beginning of a crush. 

Like, he loves you in that he cares very, very deeply for you, and would be wrecked now if something happened to you, but he’s not in love. Not yet. 

He looks out over the clearing. Finally, some clarity.

Steve turns to you and knows he might fall in love with you.  

“I think we should keep going. The tree cover is better, in case it rains again tonight. Maybe the heat’ll break, I don’t know. And I don’t like this, I feel like we could get ambushed from any angle.” He tries not to waver in his explanation. 

“A little rain would be nice,” you say, wiping your eyebrows, “I don’t know about that ambush theory.” 

“Oh, you don’t?” he asks. 

“What are the trees gonna stop?” you ask. 

He recognises an urge to pinch your side and stomps it down. “I don’t know, okay? Leave me alone, my head hurts.” 

“Want some tylenol?” 

He accepts. You walk for another hour or so through the woods until you can see the dark asphalt of a highway. They’re more intimidating, and so you backtrack for fifteen minutes and set up camp beside an incline. It’ll protect you from one angle, at least. 

“You okay?” you ask again. 

Steve lets the canteen he’d been holding fall into his lap. “What can I tell you to make you stop asking me?” he asks genuinely. He doesn’t want you to worry this much about him. 

“We could go back in time and stop you from eating those spaghetti shapes,” you say. 

He likes the way you say it. You look behind you suspiciously, spreading your jacket out and laying the backpack on it before you lie down. You face toward him, your eyes half-lidded. 

You hate the idea of bugs crawling into your hair or ears. Steve bites his lip. 

“What?” you ask. 

“You can lie on me, if you want.” 

“I’m not going to sleep yet, don’t worry.” You curl into yourself. “Let’s make a fire tonight. I know spoiled food is spoiled no matter what, but I think heating that soup’ll give it less chance of upsetting your stomach. It’ll taste nicer, too.” 

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Just a small one, though, when it’s really dark. We’ll stay up.”

“Okay.” You smile, wide and subtly beautiful. 

Is this because you held his hair back while he was sick? Could it be something that minimal? 

You reach across leaf litter to play with his shoelace. After a few minutes, you curl your fingers around the loop. 

You’re starved for touch. He knows how much of a difference it makes at night when he ushers your face into his lap, hand behind your shoulders to hold you. He’s never not given you affection when he thought you needed it, even when he began to suspect you liked him as more than a companion. You’ve never taken advantage of this fact. If you like him, you don’t burden him with it. If anything, your growing crush has made you shier. You're more self conscious. 

He takes your hand. “You already have dirt on your hands,” he says, rubbing your fingers. If you’re hands are dirty, he can’t see it. 

“Your shoe,” you explain. 

He rubs at nothing. Then he holds it just to hold it, feeling the weight of it in his. 

It’s a relief to realise he likes you. He’s confused, but it feels good at the same time. You’re a very easy person to like, even if he’s insisted otherwise before. You can ask questions he finds irrelevant and self explanatory, but for every agitating misunderstanding, you’ve a moment of sweetness. 

You can disagree with him a thousand times, and it doesn’t change how moments like this make him feel. Like he’s found a rare slice of peace. Your arm goes limp, your hand his to do with as he pleases, and he can finally take a breather for the day. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. “You’ve been asking me all day, but I didn’t ask you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm.” 

“How’s your mouth?” he asks. You get toothache from grinding your teeth in your sleep. Some nights, it makes you cry. 

“Fine, really. Doesn’t hurt.”

“How’s your head?” he asks, giving your hand a weak squeeze. 

Your lips twitch, eyes fluttering with something he doesn’t know. “I’m fine, Steve. Great, all things considered. I’m glad you’re not sick anymore.” 

He threads his fingers through yours. “Yeah, me too.” 

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Vaggie: “… what a view, huh?”

Charlie: “Heh, yeah. You can see a whole lot of hell from this hill…”

Vaggie: “Meaning they can see the hotel now, too.”

Charlie: “I guess so.”

Vaggie: “…”

Vaggie: “Nice to know they’re finally getting a glimpse of it.”

Charlie: “Oh the hotel’s been sitting up here for years-”

Vaggie: “Not the hotel.”

Charlie: “Not the hotel?”

Vaggie: “You.”

Charlie: “Me.” (sigh) “What’s Hell seen because of me, Vaggie? Extermination day coming early? Everyone panicking over how they might only have a few months left to live?”

Vaggie: “I’m telling you Heaven had their own bullshit reason for that. And it wasn't you. I'd bet my soul on it.”

Charlie: “Don't joke about that."

Vaggie: "I'm not joking sweetie."

Charlie: "I talked to them and less than an hour later they cut our time in half.”

Vaggie: “They were the ones who called for the meeting with Hell. Why do you think that was? Did they have anything else to say?”

Charlie: “No…”

Vaggie: “Then that’s all they had to say. It was already decided.”

Charlie: “They let me talk, a little bit anyway-"

Vaggie: "How little?"

Charlie: "I had a chance, the best chance we might ever get, and it should have been enough! But it wasn't. I wasn't- it still didn’t change anything. I, I couldn’t change their minds.”

Vaggie: “Oh wow, the people happy with murdering souls didn’t jump at the chance not to murder more souls. Shock. Horror.”

Charlie: “Heaven only does that because they’re scared of us! If I could have shown them there’s another way…”

Vaggie: “You will, sweetie. It’s just gonna take time.”

Charlie: “We don’t have time! We don’t even have a year anymore!”

Vaggie: “We’ll make it work.”

Charlie: “You said that earlier but Vaggie-“

Vaggie: “One guest down~” (clap clap) “That’s a pretty good start~” (clap clap)

Charlie: “Vaggie, please not a sarcastic round of my dumb clapping game from Sir Pentious’s orientation circle. Be serious?”

Vaggie: “I am being serious, babe. Cross my heart.” (clap clap…)

Charlie: “Yay….”

Vaggie: “Charlie, c’mon, Pentious is working out… better than I expected. I mean I expected the selling us out stuff, but he got over that real fast.”

Charlie: “Only because he got caught by Angel Dust real fast.”

Vaggie: “Who you didn’t let kill him. You didn’t let me kill him either. Thanks, sweetie.”

Charlie: “You wouldn’t have really anyway. Probably.”

Vaggie: “We don’t have to worry about that because you gave him a hug and a second chance instead. You guys sang a song about it.”

Charlie: “I’m always singing songs. They’re easy. At least when you have a catchy tune and nice little rhyme, there’s a chance no one will notice you have no idea what you’re doing.”

Vaggie: “I know what you’re doing.”

Charlie: “Great. I don’t.”

Vaggie: “You’re letting late night no sleep Charlie be mean to you in your own head.”

Charlie: “Our problems won’t go away just from me sleeping. We might even just get new ones-”

Vaggie: “That’s not a way to makes things work, honey. Clap clap.”

Charlie: “Vaggie…”

Vaggie: “Trust me with my manger job and come to bed- er, with me? Clap clap?”

Charlie: “You’re saying the clap claps aloud.”

Vaggie: “My hands and arms are busy hugging at the moment.”

Charlie: “You also didn’t sing it. And the rhyming meter got all messed up.”  

Vaggie: “And you’re smiling now, I can hear it.”

Charlie: “I have no idea how you do that…”

Vaggie: “Come snuggle with me and maybe I’ll whisper you my Charlie-wrangling secret.”

Charlie: (laughs) “What would I do without you, Vaggie? What did I do without you all this time?”

Vaggie: “Stayed up the whole night trying to help everyone except yourself.”

Charlie: “Ouch.”

Vaggie: “Facts, babe. That’s why I’m here though, so it all works out.”

Charlie: “This one thing really did, didn’t it?”

Vaggie: “I’ve been telling you it will.”

Charlie: “Not the hotel.”

Vaggie: “Charlie-”

Charlie: “The us.”

Vaggie: “…yeah. That too.”

Charlie: “If it’s the only thing this hotel gets right, then I don’t think… I can’t really be mad about it, honestly.”

Vaggie: “You’d be pissed if this doesn’t work out. Spitting hellfire. And I’d be angry as fuck right along with you.”

Charlie: “Partners in high blood pressure! We make a GREAT team.”

Vaggie: “We should be partners in snoring right now so shoo.”

Charlie: “Wait-”

Vaggie: “Shoo shoo, sweetie. To bed with you.”

Charlie: “I just- one last thing, Vaggie?”

Vaggie: “Only ONE and then, BED.”

Charlie: “I love you.”

Vaggie: “Charlie…"

Charlie: "Yes...? Wh- Oof!"

Vaggie: "I love you too, but."

Charlie: "S-surprise tackles aren't fair!"

Vaggie: "All's fair in love and war. And if you don’t close those pretty eyes in the next two minutes I’m gonna try smothering you with all of our pillows. Lovingly.”

Charlie: “We have pillows together. That’s so…”

Vaggie: “Charlie.”

Charlie: “I’m so glad you’re down here in Hell. I’m so lucky- Oh shit- is that a weird thing to say? Oh no that’s a REALLY weird thing to say-”

Vaggie: “Charlie. Sleep.”

Charlie: “I have my eyes closed! But was that weird? I don’t want you to be in HELL, as in stuck living around all this suffering and death and- I’m just so happy you’re-”

Vaggie: “I’m glad I’m here with you.”

Charlie: “Right, okay.”

Vaggie: “I want to be in hell.”

Charlie: “I mean heaven is proooobably better but thanks for saying-”

Vaggie: “If heaven ever wants me they’d have to drag me up there in chains and cage me there.”

Charlie: “Vaggie!” (laughs) “You know they’d never, they’re angels!”

Vaggie: “Murderers.”

Charlie: “That’s different-”

Vaggie: “Don’t you dare get me riled up about those deranged assholes when we’re trying to sleep, babe. I’ll need that boost of adrenaline just to wake up in the morning.”

Charlie: “Well no one’s taking you anywhere anyway, angels or otherwise. I’m keeping you right here.”

Vaggie: “Good.”

Charlie: "...."

Charlie: “…can I keep you for always, Vaggie?”

Vaggie: “Mmf... bold of you to think anything could pry me off you...”

Charlie: “You do give really good hugs.”

Vaggie: (groans) “Know what else would be good right now?”

Charlie: “Sleep?”

Vaggie: “SLEEP.”

Charlie: “Okay~”

[tinytennisskirt]

Never

Summary: Art breaking up with you over something you never had a say in to begin with. His future. Reminiscing over exactly what it is he’s leaving behind and the bittersweet of it all.

Warnings: angst, mentions of sex, mentions of drinking and smoking, not edited from my notes app

Your stomach flipped at the sight of the text from Art.

You free? We need to talk.

It was this odd sinking feeling, your feet suddenly the heaviest things to lift, your stomach instantly in a knot, twisting, making you sick. It’s not like you didn’t know it was coming. His distance drastically increased the past three days, plans you made had fizzled out to nothing by the means of odd-seeming and strategically-placed obstacles in his path. And you were fine, you’d thought.

And it wasn’t a lie. It was good. And happy. And healthy- both you and Art were communicative and understanding and allowed each other space and peace of mind when needed. Nothing was better than your time together, not felt better than his arms around you after a long day, nothing could come close to the way it felt when he would plant a simple kiss on the centre of your forehead.

And you felt things slowly unravel, like pulling on one string and having the whole sweater come undone. But it was quick. And it was unexpected. And he wanted to talk, asked you to meet him in his dorm room when you were done with your lecture and you just had that intuitive, gut feeling that this was it. You hoped to god you weren’t right. You were 89% sure but there was a 20% that was a pale ghost of optimism that laid overtop all of your doubt, co-existing within the one hundred.

If someone had asked you five days ago what the chances of him leaving felt like to you, you would have said it was a 4% chance he would go. Why would you have any reason to doubt him? He was your best friend and the man you were absolutely head over heels for. And him, he would hold you close all night if you let him, he would go out at four in the morning if you said you craved iced tea then and there, if you cried he would wipe your tears away and not let you go until you wanted and that would sometimes mean hours, and if you were sick he was there with soup and hands to hold back your hair.

But you felt the 89% in his sudden change of character as you knocked on his door and he opened it without pulling you into a hug or a kiss or anything of the sort. The same sort of hello just minus everything you knew and the cold of it was uncomfortable as you walked in and sat on his bed, pulling your feet up. He sat in the computer chair across from you, not on the bed with you, and you slowly felt the nausea creep up on you. Worse. His greeting was so empty of who he was. It was like even his room had lost colour.

“I wanted to talk to you about…”

“Us,” you finished. He met your eyes and then looked to the ground, nodding slowly. You knew it. You were confident enough to finish his sentence.

Art rested his elbow on his knee and allowed his chin to rest on his palm, fidgeting with his own lower lip. He paused for a moment, “I-um…” he started. Your stomach ached and you found yourself fidgeting with the ring on your finger. “I don’t know what I’m thinking, I’m struggling a bit.” He confessed, nervous smile on his face which you knew he had no control over.

“That’s okay,” you answered, smiling just a bit in response, though it was forced. Too forced, it almost hurt to make your muscles move this way when they resisted so hard. “Take your time.” You said. Gentle.

His hand rubbed over his mouth and then his eye, rubbing his left eye and coming to rest his hand along the side of his face, air blowing out through slightly parted lips. “I’ve been thinking about tennis.” He said.

You stayed quiet, listening patiently though the impulse to be impatient was such a threatening force. You hated the way you could feel the heartache already manifesting in your fingertips. What an odd place to feel it, you thought. Maybe it was the ghost of your optimism, trying to guide your heart to your fingertips so maybe you could reach out and keep him. What an odd thought.

“I think I’m leaving in the spring.” He said. You knew that he would be going on tour, pro, when the spring came. It was something you talked about often, his head in your lap and your hand in his hair. “And I was really wondering for some time what it would look like. Place to place and I-uh- I was talking to Patrick and he told me how tour is and I got to thinking…” he trailed off, meeting your eyes for just a moment. You pressed your lips together, trying to just sit still and listen quietly.

You nodded just slightly for him to continue, okaying the fact that you had listened so far. “Ive been losing sleep over it, how demanding it is and weighing that with how badly I want it and- I guess I don’t know how to do it all… with you.” He said. You saw it coming, you saw it coming as you walked over, you saw it coming from his text. “Badly phrased, I know, I’m sorry. I’m not good at this, I’ve never… done this.” He said, fidgeting more with his hands, trying to crack knuckles he’d already cracked as you just sat there absorbing it.

It was always obvious that Art loved tennis in a way that most people wouldn’t get. He wasn’t overly passionate about it, it didn’t consume his every thought, he wasn’t obsessed but it was a dream of his to go pro. Play big games with big names and it was a wonderful future he saw for himself but right now, feeling selfish, you wondered why he couldn’t see that future with you at the sidelines. You’d been to almost every one of his games at Stanford, you had been around for practices, you even tried to play a few times and you were awful but that didn’t matter, right? You loved what he loved because he loved it, even if you weren’t good at it. And you loved him for his aspirations and drive for success in something he loved and that was an amazing thing to observe. It’s not often you find a man who is so sure of what he wants, avoiding playing games with your heart, never hurting you intentionally and if he did, it was an accident and fixed, truly fixed. It never dawned on you that his idea of security didn’t involve you. Not the way your idea of security involved him.

No matter the variable of the future your idea of it was always with him. And the boys you’d known before him, you had avoided thinking about the future at all costs. You didn’t want kids with them, you didn’t want anything with them and you sometimes wondered why it didn’t come naturally and then Art came along and you found yourself thinking fondly over name ideas. And you were young- it was a bit far off from the time when you could truly have that future but you knew you wanted it. And you knew you wanted him and no one else to fill that role. He would be perfect, you thought, playing tennis with some little boy, some little version of yourselves and it was stupid, yes! Stupid because it was so far away but it wasn’t stupid to want. And you wanted a career and success, but not more than you wanted him.

Now when you looked at him where he sat you felt everything you’d ever seen for your future, every vision of your future home whether it be an apartment or a big White House, every vision of him coming home to you, every vision of him coming home to future children, it was fading. And your optimism with it. Why would he stay?

He just waited for your reply, his mouth twisted a bit to the side. “Why not?” You asked. Why couldn’t he do it all with you?

He looked at his hands, “It’s going to be a lot.” He said. “And it’s going to be hard for both of us and I just don’t think we’d survive it.” So he was giving up.

“Survive it?”

“Make it through.” He stated, fidgeting away. It was some peace of mind to know he struggled to say it. You felt the hot flush of impending tears wash over your body. “I think… the best course of action for us is if we go separate ways.” You bit your lip as the hot tears began to spring up in your eyes. You hardened your stare as to know show them, which you knew didn’t work but you still tried. “And I’m sorry.” He added.

“You think it’s best?” You asked. “For you or for me?” You immediately backpedaled, a single tear falling down your face but no real crying being allowed. “I’m sorry, that sounded really rude, I didn’t mean it that way.”

He chuckled, rubbing his eyes again, “No, I know. I get it. But I think for us, or I like thinking for us. I just… I know myself and I know that when things get tough and we would be apart so often… I would distance myself.” He nodded, continued, “I would hate for you to torment yourself over it because I know you’d worry. And I think it would be better to not have to deal with the heartache of it all then.”

“So you’ll deal it out now?” You asked. And you understood. He wanted to leave before it got messy, got hard to comprehend and live with. You didn’t see that coming in the slightest but when a man gets their mind set on something of the sort it’s hard to remove the notion from their stubborn mind. “Art, I don’t want that.” You told him. “I don’t want that future for us either. Distance wouldn’t matter to me, I could deal with the time apart.”

He buried his face in his hands, “I know and I’m sorry.” He said, muffled, rubbing his jaw as he lifted his head up. “I don’t want it either but I’m not ready to hurt you and I know the idea of it is going to keep me up at night just the fact that it feels like it’s going to happen at some point…” He sighed deeply. More of your tears streamed down your cheeks but you wiped them away and fought the urge to sniffle. “I don’t want to hurt you down the line.”

“So don’t,” you said, trying reason on the stubborn mind. “Don’t hurt me and don’t leave. Unless it truly doesn’t work.” You said. You wouldn’t beg, but you could try and get him to see reason. Your heart beat slow in your chest but with heavy, violent thuds. You wouldn’t never understand his mind, his true thought process. Just a week ago he was kissing your stomach on his way down, telling you that you were beautiful, just a week ago, you’d gone with his mom to lunch, just a week ago, you fell asleep in his arms and woke up still held just as tightly. And his reason was that he was afraid of something that was entirely up to him. But you’d take it. There wasn’t much else he could say.

“It’s the balance of things. I don’t know how I’d be able to keep up with us and tennis at the same time. And I hate that I don’t think I can do it, I’m so sorry.” Words of someone with their mind made up.

He didn’t even try yet. He was giving up before he even tried. Or even tried to try. And that was what you were worth, apparently. But you loved him, so of course you’d be happy to step aside if you were in the way of his dream.

“What did I do wrong?” You asked. “To not be worth that try?”

“No, no, you did everything right,” he said, leaning forward just a bit and you swore he almost reached for your hand. “It’s not that I’m not trying, I’m just trying to prevent more pain.” He said. “This is fucking killing me, I don’t want it but I don’t want you to hate me if I get too busy and ruin everything.”

“Art, it’s as simple as not hurting me.” You stated. “I want you and you… wanted me and I thought that was something.”

“No, it is something I just… don’t want to remember it as anything else. I don’t want this to ruin us.”

“You’re going to do exactly that. What am I supposed to say to that? Where’s the closure in that? You’re saying you want me but won’t keep me, that’s insane.” You tried again to reason and he put his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes again. “I thought I was worth more than tha-“

“You are. You’re worth so much and I hate that I’m doing this, but I don’t know how to go forward while maintaining us in the way that I know you want.” He tried to reason back, but it just didn’t work. It didn’t feel okay… or right. How could it? He promised forever, he was only saying it, he didn’t mean it. Every act that had led up to this point, the pre-relationship pining, the anticipation of a first kiss, first handhold, first time… Every act that had led up to him leaving what was it really worth if not some lead up to a perfect future. Or even an imperfect one, you would have loved an imperfect future with him. Another year, even. Or a good few months of him at least trying to keep your relationship intact, but he sat here saying he wouldn’t even try because he knew how it would end.

You hated knowing that if this was your situation, you would have found a way to make it work. You’d be trying harder than he was to keep him because you adored him and what other answer was there? When you want someone, you want someone and you would do all you could to keep them even if in the end it ended up being absolutely fucking pointless. You’d rather the fight than the abrupt ending on what was supposed to be ‘good terms’. He wanted to preserve the perfect people you were before the fight made you cold and mean but who was to say the fight wouldn’t have been worth it? It could even work out nicely, ending in peace. The peace you currently had… the peace you were losing.

You couldn’t stop him, that was evident. You knew what he wanted and it was his own peace of mind that he wouldn’t become a bad person, but you secretly hoped that this was a decision he would regret. And you did cry, just not loudly, you let yourself cry and he himself didn’t look so okay but there was good in that. It meant this was hard to do, it meant that you weren’t easy to leave. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I feel awful but I’d rather this over tearing us apart.” He said.

“It’s okay.” You said. And it was, it wasn’t a lie. His intentions were good and that was the worst part. He didn’t want to hurt you. He just had to give something up in order to achieve his goals and it happened to be you. As unfortunate as that was, you loved him enough to see his reason and still stay understanding even though it brought an end to the thing you wanted more than anything.

You pressed your lips together, then let another breath slip through them as they parted again, looking up at the ceiling. Than the wall. Then the window. The door. This would most likely be the last time you were in his dorm room and you found yourself trying already to convince yourself to let things go but it was just reflex. You were trying to protect yourself from the impending pain that would hit hard once that door shut behind you again. You were already trying to self-soothe, self-comfort as you felt the cracks spread throughout your body, getting ready to completely shatter.

You remembered the first time you were in his room. His walls were mostly bare, but now they were covered in posters you’d bought him. Pictures. Pictures of you, even. The pain in your fingertips flared through your body as you imagined him having to take them down. And what would he do with them? Where would they go? The same with the posters, though they were much less personal, would they remind him of you?

How much pain would he feel when you left? You wondered if it would be anywhere near the level of yours. It all depended on things you didn’t and couldn’t know- how long had he been wanting to do this? Had he been thinking about it for weeks trying to find the right time or was it cut and dry, a quick impulse? How long did he know he had to leave and what did he allow as he had the thought of leaving you in the back of his mind. Last week you’d fucked twice and it was slow and it was perfect and now you wondered if he knew that was the last time. The pain in your fingertips began to become a crushing force on your ribs, clenching your heart and you sobbed once into your hands.

You sat in the silence that was once so comfortable and he was right there and he wasn’t immediately a comfort. He wasn’t immediately your safety from your emotion, he couldn’t be anymore. You weren’t so lucky

It was the very bed you sat on then that had been the setting for most of your easy evenings. Talking, kissing, touching, asleep. And you wouldn’t be able to escape it going back to your own dorm. Your dorm room bed carried the same type of memories. And it was all pain, it wasn’t much else other than bittersweet. You wanted him, he wanted you but he wouldn’t do much to keep you other than end things. Here, now, after all of this.

He first kissed you outside of the tennis change rooms and around the side of the building where you waited for him after a successful game. His hair was still wet from the shower and sure he still had gum in his mouth but it was everything, the way you’d never kissed before but somehow fit so perfectly together. No clash of teeth, no bumping heads. A perfect, clean, movie kiss. And you thought about that now as you were looking at his lips. You didn’t think that there would ever come a time when you had to try and remember when you last kissed. The reality of the last kiss was something you were glad was lovely, you remembered exactly when he last kissed you and it was a long one. Last night you’d questioned it just slightly for its length and its passion but you guessed that he knew today would be the day. You wiped your eyes. Who would have thought you’d ever have a last kiss? Not you. And you were sure if this was a few weeks ago, he wouldn’t have thought it up either. So you told him it was okay.

It didn’t feel much like it was but it would have to be. It wouldn’t feel okay for a long time but at its base, it was okay. Because you loved him and only wanted him to be happy and leaving you was what would give him the peace of mind to go and be successful. Tennis was everything to him the way he was everything to you. And just as he was worth everything and anything, so was tennis to him. That wasn’t to say he chose tennis over you- that’s not what he was doing and you knew that, even if it felt that way- but it was him prioritizing your peace. You could appreciate the sentiment even as the cracks it was leaving were beginning to open and ache.

“I just… I can’t believe this.” You said, smiling just the smallest bit. “I really thought this was it.” You sighed, crying quietly, trying not to. Begging yourself not to. …Things you said that you didn’t think through. You’d have time to regret it later but it just made Art look away from you. He couldn’t handle it. And you could see he had tears in his eyes, he couldn’t hide that. As much as you hated seeing him upset, it was good to know that this upset him and he wasn’t doing this emotionlessly. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you- don’t be sorry.” He said, sniffing, looking at you through his eyelashes, still fidgeting with his lower lip. “I promise it’s nothing you did. I promise you, you were perfect. You were everything.” The past tense killed you and you found it evoked a large breath from you. A sharp intake of air. You were perfect, everything, but not perfect or everything enough to stay and try. “Don’t be sorry, please.” He said.

But you couldn’t help it. Maybe there was some version of you that had done more that got to keep him. If you’d had been born into his world, money and tennis, maybe he wouldn’t have to sacrifice. “I’ll try.”

“You shouldn’t have to-“ he stopped himself just to wipe his eyes. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.” You hated seeing him cry. All you wanted was to reach forward and pull him in. All of the crying he’d witnessed from you, all of the emotions he’d been patient and kind with and now he was in tears and you couldn’t hold him the way he held you. It felt cruel and mean to not, but you knew it was wrong to, now that he’d stated what he wanted and it was no longer you. The ache in your chest felt magnetic to the feeling of comforting his matching aches and ills. It was all you wanted to do, wipe away his tears with your own. All you wanted was to make up as if this was some sort of weird fight and have him promise you the same thing he promised you a week ago. That he wasn’t going anywhere and that he wanted you. It could be so simple only if he tried. And none of this was fair- you didn’t get a say. You didn’t get to decide what happened with his future and you never did, but you should have had a say in the future of your relationship. You should have been allowed to fight to stay, even if everything burned down to the ground in the process. “I’m so sorry. I really am. Fuck.” He shook his head, still trying to hide how upset he was but it filled the room, both your feelings and his. Usually the words ‘I’m sorry’ were given a paved path by an ‘I love you’ and the silence beforehand was so empty. Too empty.

“This is it?”

“I know… I know it’s fast, I should have more to say but all I know is that you were perfect. And amazing, and I’m glad we got the time we did.”

Before he ended it. Right. You wanted to be upset, you really did. You wanted to talk the sense back into him, remind him of every time he said he loved you, remind him what it felt like to be loved by you. Remind him that what he is leaving behind are hot summer nights kissing in his car, the comfort of knowing someone inside and out completely and entirely. To remind him of your hands in his hair and his head in your lap and telling him secrets you’d never told anyone. Remind him what it felt like to be with you in every way. How he was your best friend, the one person in the world you could truly say knew everything about you just the same as you knew the most about him. All of him, every side of him. You wanted to kiss him and make him remember all of it.

Christmas, meeting his grandma, the sweetest and most gentle woman you’ve ever met. Art holding your hand under the table at Christmas dinner and sitting with your legs overtop his. Sleeping in his childhood bedroom in his arms. New years with him and Patrick and too much drinking and the taste of a cigar when he kissed you as the clock struck twelve, how that kiss didn’t end until you were breathing heavily, sweaty on your dorm room floor. You couldn’t even make it to the bed and you just laughed. As well as the night that you fell off your bed and you and Art laughed for way too long over something so simple because it was just you both. Best friends and in love and there was nothing greater in the world.

Birthdays when his gifts were beyond thoughtful. Diving into things you wanted as a child, finding them, giving you them. And he hardly ever let you thank him, batting your gratitude away like it was nothing to do all of that for you. And you did the same, hunting down the signed racket of a resigned tennis player he loved as a kid. That tennis racket was on his wall above his bed.

When he would kiss you when you talked too much (he would still wait until you were finished talking) and sometimes not when the only thing you were saying was judgemental of yourself. He loved to shut you up and tell you the exact opposite of any flaw you swore you had. He’d hold your face when he said it but it was mostly kissing. And you did the same when he needed it.

There was also the day he said he loved you for the first time and it was just an accident. He hung up the five hour long phone call with ‘goodnight, I love you’ and you say processing it for a minute before leaving your dorm room in your pajamas, running across campus and saying that you loved him too and he kissed you at the doorway as you stumbled into his room. And after that you talked for five more hours. You’d do that often, too- talk for hours. As friends it was all you would do and it didn’t end when you were together, you loved to talk to him about nothing and everything.

And the fucked up thing about wanting him to remember it all was that he probably already had. And decided that in all of it, it just wasn’t something he wanted more of for himself.

So you would have to go without. Everything. You wouldn’t see his grandma again, you wouldn’t visit his childhood home, touching photos of him as a wide-eyed, big-eared little boy with tennis dreams. You wouldn’t spend another night in his childhood bed let alone any bed with him, in his arms. You had to say goodbye to the version of you who knew comfort in his reassurance of everything he loved about you no matter how much you hated them. He’d never kiss your eyelids again. No more holidays, no more birthdays. No more hearing those three words. It was a blow big enough to knock the wind out of you, but you’d feel it later. For now you had to pretend you weren’t feeling your heart physically ache, the heartstrings pull and your heart as a whole clench.

He weighed the scales and he would rather go without.

You looked at the boy you loved and knowing this, you couldn’t help but cry, really cry. And when you truly broke, so did he. You could hear him cry quietly as you tried so hard to stop. No more crying, you urged yourself. These were your last moments here and you were crying. It was over, everything was over and this emptiness would be what you carried with you on your way back to your dorm. Then you’d carry it day to day while he went pro in the spring. You wondered how empty this would feel for him. But you would never truly know.

There were so many ‘never’s at your feet. And they pulled tears from your eyes and they streamed down your cheeks and you were desperately trying to stop them. He cried into his hands. “I was lucky,” you managed to say. “I’m proud…” you spoke through tears, “of you. For doing this. For us.” You hated how it sounded. It sounded fake, it sounded weird. He just cried and you stood up from his bed. There wasn’t much else to say, though you’d think about it all night. Things like this would happen- you had no more words for him that weren’t desperate pleads for him to remember why he stayed so that he wouldn’t leave. But you respected him too much. You wanted him to have the best shot at his future. No distractions, no you. You just stood next to his bed, tears falling consistently but without sound. “If you ever… want to come back. Don’t hesitate.” You said and you watched him tense up more under the weight of his own tears falling. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he said, voice breaking. You sobbed, turning to look at anything other than him, your perfect, lovely, sweet Art who you wanted more than anything. He looked at you and he stood up and you weren’t ready to say goodbye but you felt no other way to exist here anymore. You didn’t want to sob you didn’t want to have this be the end, you could say more, but you couldn’t think of anything that would change his mind and sure, you’d say it anyways but respect… you had to respect his decision, the decision he made without you, for you. There would never be true closure here. Ever. He would miss you, you knew that, how could he not? But life would go on. “You’re going?”

“I think so,” you replied. “But I’m not going anywhere, I-“ you couldn’t even finish what you were saying but he had to know it. All of everything came to this. “I couldn’t.”

He looked at you with those beautiful sad eyes and you couldn’t do much about them. You could have asked for a kiss goodbye but it would have been inappropriate. You couldn’t even bring yourself to ask for a hug or anything, not even a touch just to feel his skin with intention one last time. Not even his hand… you fought yourself.

He had more to say and you knew it but maybe it was best with things unsaid. They might hurt to hear. And you knew you wouldn’t need more pain.

Despite your better judgement, despite everything you were scared of- despite not even being sure if he wanted it, you put your hand on the side of his face. He leaned into it like he always did and that was the true breaking point. The cracks in you split themselves open and you felt like you were suffocating. It was the last time your hand would hold him in any way. “Goodbye, Art.” You said it first, though it was really him who made the first move. You felt his tear as it rolled from his eyes and onto the side of your hand just before you pulled it away, puppy dog eyes holding so much pain.

“I’m sorry.” He said again. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass Chapter 6 part 2/2

Masterpost

‘Ouch,’ Tim thought gleefully as Bruce got his constipated expression. Damian was definitely pretending he thought it was admirable to frighten hapless Justice League niceguys. Damian knew better now. Damian even liked Jon Kent, who was basically like a tiny Captain Marvel.

Bruce really should know that. Tim could see the calculations whirring in his mind, weighing the odds of Damian being genuine.

He knew that Damian was a lot better now. That Damian had promised not to stab anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. That Damian had made friends and was less hostile to outsiders.

Bruce wasn’t confident enough that Damian knew better. He gave in. “I will be careful with my tone around him,” Bruce said sullenly. He stabbed at his breakfast.

‘You just got played by a ten year old.’

“Thank you Daddy,” Cass chirped.

Ah well, that’s it then. Game, set, and match. Bruce lifted his face enough to aim his watery i love my kids eyes at her.

Tim left the table without comment. He quietly thanked Alfred on his way out and gave a nod to Cass. Bruce was still glaring at his eggs. He’d be at it for a while, churning through the current state of his children’s social development and the relative healthiness of his personal relationships with Justice League coworkers.

‘I wonder why Cass cares about Marvel,’ Tim wondered idly. He didn’t have the slightest hint of doubt in her assertion. If Cass said that Bruce was too harsh for Marvel, then it was true. Marvel must be sensitive. But that didn’t mean Cass would interfere to protect a grown man from her dad’s growly temper. Maybe she had a crush? Marvel was pretty good-looking, if you were sick enough to be into hunky men with perfect teeth who were never rude to anyone and appeared to have no dark past. Sort of like crushing on that one cartoon surfer in the juice ads…

It was a minor puzzle piece that Tim tucked away for another time. 

He hung out in his room until it was time to get ready. Then Tim jogged down the stairs to the Batcave, humming under his breath.

Jason of all the people was already there, scowling at the screen. 

“Why are you up?” Tim asked. Didn’t he usually, sleep off half the day after a long patrol? Jason had been on the long shift last night.

Tim got a massively shitty expression from Jason  in return. “Patrol ended hours ago, dipstick. I’ve already slept.”

‘Those under eye circles say otherwise,’ Tim thought judgmentally. But he just shrugged. “Fair enough.” He breezed past to open up his equipment locker. 

“What are you doing?” Jason spun his chair around to watch. “Are you meeting Cass?”

Tim blinked. “No?” He unhooked his undersuit and pulled his t-shirt off over his head. He went to toss it in and then thought better of it. Tim conscientiously folded it so that there were no asshole comments from the peanut gallery. “Why do you ask?”

Jason thumbed at the cameras. “Because she’s leaving. Just got her green jacket from the living room.” He jutted his lower lip out. “I don’t know of anything on her schedule today.”

Huh. Tim stopped mid-motion. “There wasn’t anything on the master calendar,” he said slowly. He gave Jason a sideways look. “What are the odds of you following her?”

Jason looked tempted. “She’ll be mad if she notices me.”

“Yeah,” Tim agreed. It was just the truth. “But she’ll know you’re doing it because you’re worried about it, so she can’t get too mad. She got electrocuted yesterday. I’m not really sure she should be out unsupervised.”

Jason’s whole face twitched. “Yeah.”

‘Ah,’ Tim realized. ‘He already read her report. That’s probably why he came in.’

“You’re going to Amity.” Jason said it like it was an order, not a question. Tim nodded anyway and shucked his sweatpants. He started pulling on the sweat-wicking undersuit. “Yeah, alright.” Jason stood up with a scrape of the chair. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“You’re the best there’s ever been,” Tim lied earnestly. “I really appreciate it. I know that everyone else would say-”

“You’re a dick,” Jason said, and left the batcave quickly before Tim could say anything else nice to him.

Tim felt a lot better about leaving Gotham after that conversation. Jason was a huge angry clucking mother hen. He wouldn’t let anything happen to Cass. And Tim could be useful at the source of the problem without his attention split in worrying.

He clicked on his comms and switched to the YJ frequency. “Red Robin is on.”

The line clicked. “Wondergirl is here,” Cassie said happily. “You’re welcome, peons. I’m in the air already.”

“We’ll owe you forever, princess,” Kon snarked. “When can we kiss your boots?”

“You can kiss my a-”

“No chatter on the comms.” Tim typed up the mission start and sent it to the right file, marking that he was taking the jet. “I’ll see you in Amity.”

[lunajay33]

Waiting🖤 Part.2

Summary: After decades of being alone without a love of his own he finally finds her in a gloomy town of forks, his brother Edward isn’t the only lucky one

Pairing: Emmett Cullen x f! Swan reader

Warning: angsty, fluffy sunshine Emmett

Part.1

•Masterlist•

Friday came and I was a nervous wreck, I didn’t care to tell Bella or dad about this seeing as Bella has already distanced herself from me and I didn’t wanna get dads hopes up, sitting in math class, the last class of the day I kept glancing at the clock ticking closer and closer to the final bell, trying to distract myself I delved back into the worksheet infront of me, soon enough the bell rang and my heart jumped

Anxiously I threw everything into my bag and left the school straight to the parking lot, where Emmett was leaned against his silver jeep, when his eyes landed on me that bright smile stretch across his face making his amber eyes shine

“Hey gorgeous you ready for the best night of your life?” I could feel the heat rush to my face only making his smirk widen

“Not like that y/n, not yet anyways, come on hop in” he said as he held the door open for me, quickly getting in the drivers seat next to me

“Sooo um what’re we doing?”

“Thought we could go hiking, maybe get out of the cloud bank into some sunlight”

“I love hiking! Sounds like fun” finally relaxing knowing now it’s something I’m use to doing

He drove for a while out of forks to a near by hiking trail not commonly used by the public, we got out and started our journey

“So tell me a bit about yourself Angel” he said breaking the silence

“Well there’s not much to know, I’ve lived here my whole life, my sister and mom left when I was young so it’s just been me and my dad, I became homeschooled until now and I usually just read and do homework”

“Not a big social butterfly I assume?”

“Not really, what about you? Tell me everything!”

“Well I have 4 adopted siblings, Jasper, Alice, Rosalie and Edward, you’ll love Alice she’s the sweetest, I like getting out into the forest, love music and working out”

“Yeah I can tell” I smiled glancing at his bulging muscles under his long sleeve shirt

“Woah she’s got some fire in her after all” he laughed nudging my arm

“What can I say you bring it out of me” his hand grazed against mine until he went for it and intertwined his fingers through mine

“Why so nervous pretty girl? Do I fluster you?”

“Maybe, I’ve never really done stuff like this but it’s nice” I saw his features soften as he looked down at me and gently squeezed my hand

“Really? A beautiful thing like yourself, I’m surprised you don’t have boys on their knees begging for your attention”

“I think you have me mixed up with my sister” I laughed nervously

“And who might that be because I don’t even need to see her to know your beauty is beyond anything of this world”

“Emmett stop you’re just trying to make me blush, and my sister is Bella, Bella swan she’s new to the school” he stopped dead in his tracks with a shocked expression

“Bella is your sister, like your actual sister?”

“So you already know her, not a surprise”

“No it’s not that, my brother Edward has been after her since she came at the start of the week, kind of funny how two brothers can like two sisters, but I must say I got the more beautiful”

“You’re too sweet Em, I can’t believe she hasn’t said anything”

“Edward is a very awkward secretive guy I’m sure Bella is the same way maybe that’s why she hasn’t said anything”

“Can’t say you’re wrong”

He looked me up and down trying to judge something, curious

“Do you trust me?”

“I only just meet you but yeah, I do”

In an instant he flung me over his back so I was clung to him like a monkey

“Hold on tight sunshine” everything flew by in a blur, there was no shape to anything with the speed he was going, but however he was doing this it didn’t scare me or make me wonder what the hell was happening, I actually felt at peace

Soon enough he stopped as we cleared the cloud bank and the sun was beaming, he placed me gently back down on my feet and turned around, his skin was like a million tiny crystals, I was in awe by how much more beautiful he became

“Are you scared?” He asked as his face scrunch with worry

I raised my hand and traced down his cheek feeling his hard cold skin

“No quite the opposite, you’re beautiful Emmett”

“Don’t you wanna know what I am?” He asked placing his hands on my hips

“Whatever you are I’d never judge, I feel you’d never hurt me so I don’t care what you are”

“How did I get so lucky” he stated as he lifted me like I weighed a feather, wrapping my legs around his waist

“What do you mean?”

“Us vampires have mates and the moment you bumped into me in the hallways I knew you were mine, the one I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with”

“But why me, you could have anybody”

“You’re everything I’ll ever need, I wish you could see yourself the way I see you Angel, and I’ll spend the rest of eternity showing you how amazing you are”

My heart swelled with the most love I’ve ever felt and I’m lucky enough to finally find the one who will brighten my life

Taglist: @whit0912 @serenadingtigers @twilightlover2007

[lcriedlastnight]

Enemies to lovers

Lando locking reader and Oscar in a room because he can’t stand them and their attitude towards each other anymore. So he decides to lock them in a room so that they can confess their true feelings for each other

this is one of the best tropes ever. tysm anon, mwah!

tw: fem!reader, swears, idk lmk if you want me to add anything else.

w/c: 1.1k

lando had had enough. this was getting ridiculous now. you have been friends with lando since before he started in f1 and he’s been friends with oscar since his rookie year, maybe not as long as the two of you but he spends almost double the time he spends with you, with oscar and doing what he loves.

you despise the way oscar thinks that he can just come along with his pretty brown eyes and steal your best friend from you. no. not happening. not today, not ever.

oscar feels the same way about you too. the way you walk around like you own the place, even though you don’t even race. it frustrates him that everyone in the mclaren garage treats you like someone important, when all you are is lando’s friend. he was jealous. he wanted that treatment from them.

lando was fed up with it, to put it bluntly. all he wanted was for the two of you to get along. two of the people he loves spending time with the most, getting along with each other for once.

the curly haired boy just wanted you to get along. one day without an argument. the last time you had been together lando has seriously thought he was going to have to hold you back from slapping him in the face. in all the years he has known you he had never, ever seen this side of you. it scared him a little.

lando had decided to go to charles for help. the papaya fireproof standing out in ferrari motor home.

“what are you doing here?” charles had asked, arms clutching his puppy, leo. the dog sleeping peacefully in his arms.

“i need help with what to do with all the fights happening in my own garage!” lando admits, frustrated with the constant fighting.

charles nods his head, agreeing to whatever lando wanted already.

“so i need your help with executing my plan.” lando smiles mischievously, charles laughing as lando explains his plan.

a week later, the plan was set in place and lando was just waiting for the right time to set it in motion. you were stood talking with lando about the upcoming race. it was charles’ job to lead oscar to lando’s drivers room and lando’s to lead you there. lando’s big wonderful idea you ask? trap you both in a room until you kiss and make up. he didn’t want to toot his own horn but it was one of the best ideas he thinks he has ever had.

“shit, come with my to my drivers room, i’ve left my phone in my room.” lando says, his head twitching in the direction of said room. you give him a blank look. “you are literally holding your phone.” you deadpan.

“just come with me please.” lando whines like a child, and it works. mostly because you couldn’t be arsed with his complaining if you said no. you follow behind slightly skeptical about what lando was up to. once you get to the room you see charles waiting outside. this confuses you more.

“hello!” charles greets you cheerily. you smile back but it is mostly confusion.

“hi. what are you doing in here?” you ask but before charles can even utter the start of an excuse lando interrupts. his hands quick to push gently on your shoulders to force you into the room.

“what are you doing?” you ask lando. you don’t notice oscar sitting on the couch when you both hear the doors lock and lando’s evil giggle.

“you guys are going to stay in there until you make up. or fight to the death. either way there will be a solution. i’ll be back in a few hours.” lando explains fingers tapping softly on the door as he leaves.

shouts of “lando! come back here!” and “you better be fucking joking!”s coming from the room. oscar gives up way before you do at trying to get the little shit to come back. you slide down the door, resting your head on your knees, still calling for lando. oscar sits back down on the couch.

“give up he’s not coming back.” oscar tells you, defeated. you roll your eyes.

“don’t tell me what to do.” you sass back. this causes silence to fall between the two of you. you are so stubborn and refuse to give in. even though lando knows you better than you know yourself and he knows it. that’s why he’s done this, he knows you really do like oscar. you had just put your walls up. plus you don’t like getting the wrong impressions about people and you had told lando the first time after you had met oscar “he’s a proper dick.” and now you think that he is not a dick and you don’t want to think that.

you two are in there for hours before oscar finally clears his throat, a signal he wants your attention. your head flitting up to meet his eyes.

“i just want you to know that i do actually like you. i was just jealous of how many people liked you when i first joined in my rookie season.” oscar explains. your frown at his words.

“people do like you oscar, you don’t have to worry about that.” you tell him, wanting him to be sure that he is liked mclaren. oscar nods his head, coming down to sit next to you, facing you. not too close but not too far either.

“i know. but that doesn't even matter to me now.” he tells you and you feel like he is about to bare his soul to you and you decide to listen, lando was right about your feelings anyway.

“it doesn’t?” you ask. “what does then?”

oscar smiles a weak smile but it has a glimmer of hope shining through it. his hands raise, fingers inching to touch you. the brown eyed boy finally gets what he wants and rests his big hands on your cheeks.

“you liking me.” oscar confesses. “i want you to like me back.” well, you were right about him baring his soul.

you give him a pretty smile as you say “okay, well maybe i like you too. but don’t tell anyone.”

oscar laughs and it’s like music to your ears. you want to play it over and over again for the rest of your life. that is when oscar leans forward and brushes his lips against yours, so light - he was teasing.

“you’ll get a proper kiss once you convince lando to let us out.” oscar murmurs against your lips. you are jumping up from you space against the door and start banging on the door.

[maissafespace]

Always There.

Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: what hasn’t he gone through, would be a good question. all that was bound to break him more than anything, people left, people died, but somehow he could still feel warmth in his heart. it was all because of you, you were always there and he was grateful for it.

warnings: fluff. close friends, intimacy, may/may not have slept together, suggestive, gojo being a flirt to not show feelings, reader is a year younger, canonverse after volume 0. light angst. gojo’s trauma, gojo bottling up, crying.

a/n: don’t really know where i was going with this, i don’t know if there will be a part two or something but i wanted some fluff with gojo, hope you like it! reblog and comment! t!p if you can XD.

Masterlist • Masterpost.

walking through the gardens surrounded by utmost silence would’ve been routine for you, relax without anyone annoying you, but, today of all days, your heart was heavy in your chest as you walked toward Satoru’s residence.

you had only come back to Tokyo today in the early morning and had been notified by Yaga of the events that occurred this last week.

noticeably, Suguru’s return.

you had remained shook at the everything that happened, Suguru’s new plans or former plans for the Jujutsu world. so much, that you could not go to Satoru right away, you had to clear your own mind before ever going to comfort him at all.

you greeted the workers with a small smile, making your way through the hallways and stairs till you were in front of his door and made your way in.

the whole room was dark even though it was late afternoon, a few rays of light got through, brightening the little it could, enough for you to see the silhouette of his body on the bed, lying with an arm over his face, his bare chest going up and down with his breathing and legs crouched with a pair of sweatpants on.

you sighed, taking the dark blue uniform off you and throwing it on the couch on the other side of the room, leaving you in your panties and a t-shirt.

“satoruuu…” you called him softly and calmly, climbing on the other side of the bed, sitting on your knees beside him. your hand poking his side waiting for a reaction. “satoru.” but nothing.

a bit annoyed you made the move. with another sigh, your hands sat on his chest, throwing your leg on the other side of his waist. you saw immediately that stupid grin on his face with his free hand going on your thigh in a millisecond.

“this is a good feeling.” he said with a chuckle. “heard you got back today from some lost place in South Africa, i’m offended you didn’t come to greet me first thing, babe.”

“right, can we go right to the point, honey.” you got his arm off his face but his eyes were still closed. “maybe you could look at me to start off.”

he breathed deeply, the amusement falling off for a second into numbness, he opened them, looking to the side for a moment before looking at you. you smiled sadly at the single glance to his beautiful light blue eyes. a pair that held so much behind them, feelings that he didn’t show easily.

“do you want to talk?” you asked him softly, your thumb brushing the side of his cheek, along his jawline.

“there’s something more productive i’d like to do. you, for example.” his fingers were playing with the elastic band of your panties.

“and they say romance is dead.” his light laugh and snort made a faint smile on your face appear. “if that were true, i’d feel you poking into me then i’d reject you as i’ve done before. but that’s not the case.”

“i mean, it doesn’t really take a lot…” his finger was going to the front of your panties, bringing them down till your own hand brought him out of them, back onto your waist. “we both need it, y/n, a nice distraction and consolation.” he sighed.

“i’ll consider it if we talk first. come on, we have done this before, satoru.” you were trying to be patient, keyword is trying, but that’s all, you have been through this countless times already, you knew the flirting and cute words were just to distract you from the purpose, though he knew you were not a flatterer.

“have i told you how pretty you look today?” he said with his hand lightly stroking your chin. you smiled, kissing the tip of his fingers.

“i love to hear such things from a handsome man.” you leaned down on him, chest to chest, your forearms keeping you up enough to still face him. “but we still need to talk. now you’re trapped, so start talking before we stay for days on this bed.”

“what about your trip? tell me about it? was the special grade curse as bad as people were making it out to be?” you sighed. you cupped his cheeks fully, inches away from his face. looking directly into his eyes, your heart beating fast at the way you would break the ice so abruptly.

“‘toru, tell me what happened with Suguru.” you asked.

you felt the way his chest stopped their movement for a second, you saw how his breath hitched and his eyes widened quickly. yet, no response came, you were just looking at him continuously, to the point where you didn’t realize how your positions changed.

he was on top of you, your legs wrapped around him as he breathed heavily. “satoru… i’m here. i’ve always been here.” you reminded him, trying to give him some faith and trust in yourself.

he collapsed gently, his head on your chest, his big figure sprawled on top of you and between your legs.

your hand brushing through his hair gently, rubbing his scalp and nape like a feather as he took his time.

“he’s gone.”

you hummed at his choked tone of voice. his shoulders were slightly trembling, then the sniffling started and then you felt your t-shirt dampening of his tears.

you just held him as he cried.

nobody was unaware of the relationship they had when they were young and in school, they had a friendship like no others, they were friends, brothers, family, maybe soulmates. you had just come in accidentally, being a year younger gave you all the time to admire your superiors, just one day you had found him wondering around alone, sighing.

sighing was a bad indicator for anything. you approached him and till now you had become something similar to a diary or a therapist, perhaps.

he told you the place each person had in his life, suguru was something like the sun in the hell of a childhood he lived, he was an anchor of life for him. when he left, it was visible how his life seemed to have been sucked out of him, you hated to see him like that. he slowly recovered from it but it was never the same, the walls were built.

it was worse the first months, he wouldn’t talk about it, he wouldn’t utter a word, he put on an act, then he’d get annoyed, then he’d try to run and make you leave, yell even, till you pressed and finally he opened up. he cried then too, he let his vulnerable side out in the world with you and you cried with him the first time. but now it was different.

you were in no way trying to involve yourself, or understand what he was going through, even though you did, since you had lost Yu after all, but right then it wasn’t your job to play who had it worse or make it about you, it was a moment of “let it out, before it consumes you.”

his body was calming down after some time.

his arms were even tighter around your torso, his body growing in heat, letting you reach around you to drop a blanket over the both of you before he got sick.

he cleared his throat, his voice still hoarse but he started to tell you in detail everything that had happened while you were away. you hummed here and there, asking a few questions as well, still rubbing your hands on his back and shoulders, seemingly comforting him.

“so up till now, you have not eaten a single thing.” you asked. “that’s not good, satoru, come on, we got to get out of bed.” you patted him, he whined in response.

“i disagree with that notion. we can cuddle and snuggle, maybe have some great sex-“

“see, no.” you tried to pull him off you but he didn’t let go. “i have a date tonight, but i need you up on your feet before i go, because if we wait you’ll be rotting tomorrow. wait!” in a moment and costing your neck, you were up, straddling his lap. as he looked up with a frown.

“what do you mean date? we have never agreed to this.” he really looked incredulous.

“you didn’t. i did. life is continuing outside the Jujustu world, my dear friend.” you slapped his cheek softly. “get up, you are having dinner right now.” you got out of his arms and out of bed, reaching for the couch as you put your pants back on. you turned on the lights and looked at him, his hand was ruffling his own hair while he still sat on the edge of the bed.

“satoru?” you called him. you walked back to him, taking his hands from his knees and have him stand up. “let’s go.”

you guided him slowly, he just complied, he followed after you, looking down at the your intertwined hands.

he looked at you as you talked friendly to the maid, asking her to please cook a little something in big portions to feed him for the days he had not eaten, and once everything was prepared he wanted to laugh at all the food laid out in front of him but you sat there with your arms crossed, looking at him intensely.

he just complied. starting to eat as you watched with a small smile, sometimes it fell into sadness to then turn into fondness.

it was dark outside by the time he was done. he laid back on his back with his legs still under the table, breathing heavily waiting for his stomach to do its job. “that was too much.” he muttered.

“now, you’ll think twice about starving yourself. i’m turning into a granny by worrying for you.” you said getting up, ready to get out of here and into the world.

“i’ll need you even if you’d turn into a granny. you’d be a hot granny.” you chuckled, reaching his side, receiving the invite of his hand reaching for you. you sat down with him one last time. looking directly into each other, his lips formed a weak smile, guiding his hand with yours in it to his lips and kissing it lightly.

he wanted to grin at the slight blush on your cheeks, but he refrained from doing that. “thank you.” you smiled genuinely at his words. “thank you for always being there for me. i haven’t been the best for you, but you’re always here. so, thank you.”

the smile on your face widened, your eyes almost completely invisible by it. “love to hear it.”

there was a moment of silence before the maids started to come in and the shiny atmosphere was disrupted. “i have to go now. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“all right, see you later, y/n.”

he sat up, watching you walk away and out of his residence with a big smile while he sighed and stood to walk back to his room.

he stood under the hot water, thinking. and thinking. and thinking more.

shit ending i know, but i didn’t have the inspiration for the conclusion. not my best work.