#that it’ll never be the way that it Was

[darnell-la]

𝗜'𝗟𝗟 𝗚𝗜𝗩𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧

pairing: old man!logan howlett x young female!reader

warnings: staring, rude people in public, Logan with no emotion, begging, oral (male receiving), riding, doggy, neck kisses, slightly forced cream pie, multiple orgasm, moans from both sides, very rough sex, angry animalistic Logan, etc.

request: Hi! I love your work, Could I request Oldman!Logan x young fem!reader (22 years) that has a baby fever and really wants to have Logan's baby (also to shut the mouths of those who make fun of her dating an older man), she decides to prepare a surprise for him so that he can get her pregnant soon. Reader is needy and Logan is rude.

note: Logan as always is mean and an over-thinker, but he can’t seem to not give what his perfect girl wants. A breeding session.

teaser - Logan gets kinda subby in here. can’t stop cumming…

———

How do you guys feel about an X-Men story with the reader? Logan is rude Logan at first, then slowly shows small affection towards the reader. Jealousy and things of that sort. They soon hit it off, and after Logan starts acting rude again because he’s scared of the love he grew for her. It’ll be a long story, but something to read at night. ALL ON WATTPAD! Comment below, please!

———

“Stop gettin’ in your feelings, Bub. They ain’t gon stop,” Logan said, talking about the people looking their way in the expensive restaurant Logan decided to take y/n out at.

“But, isn’t it rude? Why do they care so much about who I’m with? Or who you’re with!?” Y/n tried whispering and keeping her facial expressions normal. She didn’t want them to know she was bothered, but it wasn’t hard to see.

“Just relax, Bub — Ain’t nun gon happen with a few eyes lookin’ attcha,” Logan had picked up the menu to continue searching through what he wanted to order for himself and his girl.

“Are you two ready, or shall you get more time?” The man asked in an accent that made Logan roll his eyes. “Just appetizers for now. Gonna get the cheese bites with a side of marinara sauce, and two Caesar salads,”

“And drinks?” The waiter asked as he looked at y/n, wanting to hear the young lady talk as he was done listening to the older grumpy man.

“I’ll have a whiskey, no ice, and she’ll have water for now,” Logan ordered for her, eyes still on the menu as y/n faked a bright smile on her face so at least one of them looked like they wanted to be here.

“Are you sure that’s all you want? We have a lot of cocktails. Even mocktails if you’re not feeling alcohol going lady,” Logan laughed at the small sign the water gave. They always go.

“She’s fine, trust me,” Logan said, leaning his girl from head to toe. He knew her like a book. He knew her life at the back of his hands. He loved showing it too.

“I’m fine, thank you,” y/n smiled at the man as he looked at Logan. He wanted to speak, say something, but he couldn’t. Logan wasn’t actually doing anything to make the man complain.

“Get a load of that guy,” y/n rolled her eyes as he walked off. “Yep,” Logan said, not really caring. “Why are you always so calm? He was disrespecting us. Disrespecting you,” y/n said, confused about why the man never cared.

“I’m still alive, aren’t I? You’re making it seem like that fetus of a man shot at me,” y/n rolled her eyes and sat back as she crossed her arms, upset at the lack of care Logan had. She felt like she was the only one who cared about things.

Throughout the night, Logan made small talk with y/n to ease her mood. She tried to stay upset at the man, but the hand grabs, foot nudges, and complements made her melt

“Said you had a surprise for me, Bub?” Logan asked as the two made it into the hotel that Logan bought for the night. The top floor had a good view, a view he knew y/n would love.

“Yeah, but I thought we were going back to the house,” y/n pouted, a bit tipsy as Logan carried her through the door. “I know, and I apologize, princess. If you left it at the house, you can give it to me tomorrow. Or I can go get it now?” Logan suggested.

“No, no, you don’t have to do all that. I-I got it. I got it,” Y/n said as she kicked her heels off and walked towards the bed with Logan.

He had a few drinks, but that never affected him. She prayed it would tonight so she wouldn’t have to work hard, but she’ll deal with it.

Y/n knows Logan’s a hard one to crack, but the man loved her. He’s so anything for her, so a long session of begging or anything of that sort, would make him crack. Only for her.

“Get comfortable — I’ll be back,” Y/n said as she stumbled to the bathroom. Logan chuckled as he got undressed, already knowing y/n wanted to have sex. She always does, and he never says no.

Y/n didn’t take long to get stripped and walk out of the bathroom slowly. The lights were dim, and Logan sat up against the headboard of the bed, legs spread and waiting for his perfect girl.

“I-I know you’re against it, and I know you always shut me down, but tonight is special. I-I really, really want you tonight,” Y/n said, slowly crawling on the bed as Logan’s chest rose.

“You always get me, Bub, so what’s there to beg about?” Logan said as he rubbed his thighs. “I want you to cum in me,” y/n looked at him with those eyes he could barely say no to.

“Y/n, don’t start tonight. Ian tryna ruin the night,” Logan has rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Baby, please,” y/n begged, trailing her hands up his legs until they were mid-thigh.

“Keep beggin’ for that shit, and ima turn around and go to sleep,” Logan warned the girl, but she ignored him and put his cock in her hand. “C’mon, daddy, please,” y/n said, bringing out the word she used in once in a blue moon.

“Nah uh, get off, y/n. I told you what was gonna happen-“ Before he could finish, y/n wrapped her wet mouth around his tip, sucking down hard as her tongue moved up and down his slit.

“F-Fuck,” Logan’s legs shook as he gripped the sheets. “Y/n, remove your fucking mouth,” Logan demanded, but she ignored him, looking into his angry dark eyes as she slipped down onto his cock, taking all the inches in that she could.

“Y-Y/n!” The man groaned loudly, hips bucking as his hand went to her hair, pulling her up to get her off, but not strong enough. He was physically stronger than her, so she knew if he wanted her off, he’d get her off.

“Fuckin- Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ bad,” Logan said as his other hand cupped her cheek. “But you take my cock so well,” Logan admitted with a chuckle as he slowly began moving her head at a pace he wanted her to suck in.

“Always so fuckin’ needy — Needy little slut can’t just enjoy my cock. Always needs my cum to satisfy her,” Logan said, now moving his hips, allowing his cock to thrust up into her throat.

“That’s it, kid — Fuckin’ suck me up since you want it so bad. You ain’t gettin’ it in that cunt. You ain’t earn it yet,” Logan said, watching spit spill from her mouth.

Y/n did her best to look up and into his eyes. Her was glossy, streaming tears as he grew dark. He couldn’t hold back his deep groan at the sight of her taking his cock like this.

“Don’t fuckin’ look at me like that,” Logan said, getting angry at her. He hated how bad she was, but loved that she’d do anything to get what she wanted from him.

“Fuckin’ brat,” Logan growled, snapping his hips faster to make her gag and cough on his cock. Maybe if she was too busy trying to focus on taking him, she’d stop silently begging for him to breed her.

It’s not like the man didn’t want to. He was just insecure. Yeah, he and y/n had been dating for a while, but the people roaming about are right. At least that’s what he thought at the time.

What if he is too old for her? He’d basically be baby-trapping her if he gave her what she wanted. He swore she’d regret it.

He forced himself to think that way, but every time y/n took his cock, rather that was with her mouth, cunt, ass, or anything, she’s beg him to breed her. Something in him knew she wanted it, but the other part held him back.

“Fuck, y/n, stop it! Stop fucking looking at me like that!” Logan shouted at the girl, an animalistic tone slipping out as he fucked her throat.

Y/n didn’t stop. She continued, whether her eyes could barely stay on him or not, she kept looking up at him, begging him to breed her.

“Y/n, I can’t — I fucking can’t,” the man had thrown his head back, whining as he felt himself near. He’s me we did that before, but him trying to yell her no but also seeing her beg, was too much for him. He was overstimulated by his thoughts.

Y/n slapped Logan’s hands off of him and quickly crawled onto him. She grabbed his cock and aligned herself with him before sitting down.

The moan that escaped her mouth made his eyes widen. “F-Fuck, kid, stop it!” Logan said, but his hands came to her waist and kept her in place. She tried to bounce, but he didn’t even allow her to do that.

Logan’s feel curled as his fingernails dug into her sides, causing her to feel in pain, but also pleasure. “Do it, daddy, please,” was all had to say on his cock before he jumped over the edge.

Logan’s mouth parted as his whole body stuttered. No noises came from his mouth for a second as y/n felt his warm seed coat her walls.

“Yes! Yes, daddy, yes!” Y/n cried out with happiness before she buried her face into the crook of his neck, sucking into his skin hard. That pulled all of his groans and moans out.

Logan’s hands wrapped around the girl's back and waist, pulling her into his body as she grinned against his pelvis, letting her swollen bud feel all the affection it needed.

“Please, more, Logan. Please. Please,” y/n continued rubbing against him as her whole body felt numb. She was going to cum, and Logan knew it. Damn her.

“Fuck, kid — F-Fuck,” Logan’s legs kicked as he tried keeping himself in, but he couldn’t. She squeezed him so hard for him not to do what she’d been begging for, for the longest.

“Y/n,” Logan’s voice cracked as his nails broke the skin on the young girl's back and waist. “Yes, yes!” Y/n almost cried as her body kicked up and she came, sucking the man too hard. To damn hard.

Logan’s mouth parted once again as his eyes crossed, feeling too much pleasure as he spilled into y/n for the second time and took the love bites y/n gave him on his neck.

Logan was pissed. He was so damn pissed at y/n for not listening to him. He wanted to punish her, but how? How could he after he bred her? He wouldn’t be able to pull out. And fuck a condom. He was fucked. He broke the promise he kept to himself. He really fucking loves her to let her do this to him.

“You’re so fuckin’ bad, y/n,” Logan breathed out into y/n’s ear, alarming her. He wasn’t relaxed. He was angry. “You like gettin’ what you want?” The man asked as he slowly lifted y/n off of him. She was being held in the air.

“Then ima give you what you fucking want,” before y/n knew what he meant, the man flipped the two, allowing him to hover over her.

“S-Sorry, I just- I really needed you. I-I love you so much, and I-I — I want you to give me a baby. I-If you don’t want it, I-I’ll just take the plan b tomorrow. I promise,” y/n couldn’t stop stuttering.

She felt a slight fear. She knew how Logan got, and now that he’d already come in her, he’d be worse.

“Fuck that plan b. You wanna baby? Then deal with the fucking consequences,” Logan turned y/n around and forced her onto her hands and knees. Before she could process anything, he plunged into her.

“Fuuck!” Y/n screamed at the new angle and the hard thrust. “Shut the fuck up, and take it,” the man groaned as a hand came down on her ass. “Take my fuckin’ kid, since you wasn’t em so damn bad,” he added.

Y/n cried into the sheets, thinking he couldn’t fuck her hard until his claws came out. He’d never done this before, but she knew what he was up to.

The man’s claws punched into the wall right in front of the two. He gripped tightly, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere before he pounded her into the mattress.

The young girl's neck and back belt pain. He was breaking her and didn’t care. She wanted this.

“Lot,” y/n whined, not being able to say what she had to say. She was beyond fucked. “Don’t worry, Bub — You’re gonna make a damn good mom,” Logan said, making sure she knew he was up for this.

Y/n slightly smiled as her cunt quivered, finally letting out another orgasm as her eyes closed. “S-So good,” she said as she slipped away. “I know, baby — I know,” the man growled.

Logan never stopped his thrust, making sure she’d feel the soreness when she woke up. And the loads he was going to leave in her.

[evanbi-ckley]

Buck walks through the automatic doors on autopilot and freezes. It hits him then that the last time he stood here, he was meeting Tommy for Maddie and Chim’s wedding. He had stood almost in this very spot and kissed his boyfriend who was covered in soot after fighting a wildfire all night and most of the day.

Now his boyfriend is somewhere else in the hospital, and Buck can’t kiss him or touch him, and his hands are shaking, and he thinks he’s going to be sick.

He turns toward the nearest bathroom and makes it into the stall just in time. He hasn’t eaten yet today, so he’s only throwing up bile mixed with panic and regret, but it’s just as bad.

It’s Hen who finds him, which -

“Why are you in the men’s room?” he asks, his voice weak and still creaky.

“I thought you might need a medical professional.” When Buck just looks at her, she continues with a sigh, “We could hear you in the waiting room. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh.” That’s a little embarrassing. “Sorry. And thanks.”

He gratefully accepts the wet paper towel she hands him to wipe his face.

“Any news yet?”

“Not yet. They took him back for surgery, and it’ll probably be a few more hours before we hear. Bobby and Eddie are in the waiting room if there’s an update. Chim went to pick up Jee from daycare, but he’ll be back later with Maddie.”

Then she produces a water bottle from somewhere behind her.

“How long have I been in here?” Buck asks. Hen seems way too prepared for it to have been just a few minutes.

“About half an hour,” she says. “Actually closer to 45 minutes now.”

“Right.”

So time is still moving awkwardly. He can’t get his bearings. He feels untethered, like he’ll never be on solid ground again.

“Why don’t we get you up and out to a chair?” Hen asks gently. She’s not treating him with kid gloves, but she is being more careful than necessary.

He decides to accept it for the time being. Maybe he does need the softness in her voice and the kindness in her eyes right now.

“Yeah - yeah, that’s a good idea. Thanks, Hen.”

She smiles with something like relief and then stands, offering Buck a hand up.

The waiting room is blessedly empty save for their morose party. Buck tries to sit down, but before he can, Hen is pulling at his turnout coat, trying to yank it off his shoulders. She manhandles the coat off and tosses it to Eddie who adds it to the growing pile of coats on an unused chair in the corner. He’s too tired to fight it or question it, plus it was getting heavy with all of the rain still soaked into the fabric. 

After that, Hen leaves to call Karen, and Ravi goes to get food for them all at a little cafe just up the road that they’ve come to know well. 

Buck sits between Bobby and Eddie, almost a mockery of them standing at the crash site, holding him up. Best not to think about it.

Eddie holds a phone in his hands that Buck recognizes, but it’s not Eddie’s phone. The screen is cracked at the upper corner, spider-webbing its way diagonally down the length of the glass.

“Is that -?” He can’t even bring himself to ask.

“It’s Tommy’s, yeah. A nurse brought out the personal items he had on him a while ago. I was going to see if he has any family in his contacts, but I don’t know his passcode.”

“Oh,” Buck swallows roughly, “it’s um - it’s my birthday. But,” he continues before Eddie types the digits, “he doesn’t have any family in his contacts. At least, not anyone he would want here.”

“Ah,” is all Eddie says before handing the phone over to Buck. He pockets it and tries to think about anything other than his boyfriend a few rooms away getting his arm put back together.

He spends the next few minutes staring off into space thinking of nothing other than his boyfriend a few rooms away getting his arm put back together.

“He’s gonna be okay, Buck,” Eddie says into the heavy silence.

“Eddie’s right,” Bobby adds. “His arm will be fine, and the cuts and scrapes will heal. He’ll be back up in the sky before you know it.”

Buck feels his stomach churn threateningly at the thought, but he does his best to nod and smile. 

When Ravi returns with food, Buck can’t handle the smell, let alone eating anything. But he tries. He can hear Tommy’s low voice in his head warning, “Evan, you need to eat something,” and that convinces him more than Eddie’s prodding.

When Karen shows up along with Chimney and Maddie, Buck feels the need to pull her and his sister off to the side.

He tries to keep his voice steady as he says, “I didn’t get it. Before, I mean. I didn’t get what it felt like to be on this side.” He’s oddly proud his voice only cracked once.

Maddie grabs his hand. “Buck, you’ve been on this side a lot of times. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the 118 isn’t very good at staying out of the hospital.”

He lets out a wet laugh.

“I think he means on the worried partner side of things,” Karen says. “You’ve never had someone you’re in a relationship with get injured like this before. Is that right?”

“Y-yeah.” He chuckles sardonically. “When I saw the helicopter - and his - his hand hanging out the window - I thought - he wasn’t moving, y’know? It took us so long to find him. We were too late. I thought -”

“You thought you’d lost him,” Maddie supplies. He can only nod. “Yep, welcome to the Worried Partners Club.”

“It sucks, but it’s worth it,” Karen adds.

Later, when Athena gets off shift, she arrives at the hospital bearing coffee for everyone. Buck nods gratefully when she hands him one, and the understanding look in her eyes nearly sets him off again. Although, he thinks he might be too dehydrated for tears by now.

“Family of Thomas Kinard?” a voice calls from the doors leading to the OR.

Everyone looks up, but Buck is on his feet before the nurse finishes saying Tommy’s name. He feels people behind him, and the nurse’s eyes widen a bit at everyone gathering around, but Buck’s glad for them.

“He’s out of surgery. Everything went well. He’ll be in recovery for about an hour, but as soon as we get him in a room, you can see him.” 

The last part is directed toward Buck. Maybe he now looks like he’s part of the Worried Partners Club, but that’s fine. He’ll see Tommy soon. That’s what matters.

He catches the end of the nurse’s spiel as he says, “...still be under some sedation, so don’t expect much conversation.”

Buck nods, and the nurse leaves, and then Maddie is dragging him back to their chairs, handing him his coffee, and plopping down next to him to wait until they can see Tommy.

“He’s going to be insufferable,” Eddie says suddenly. He looks at Buck and says, “Remember that time he sprained his ankle while we were sparring? God, he was the worst patient.”

Buck genuinely laughs for the first time since they got the call. “He’s so stubborn, he wouldn’t even let me open doors for him. He just struggled to balance on his crutches so he could do it himself. He almost fell into the bushes twice outside the physical therapist’s office.”

Then everyone is laughing, a sense of lightness settling over Buck. He still doesn’t feel grounded or right necessarily, but laughing with his family helps.

They keep telling stories after that. Most of them are about Tommy, but some are stories or updates about kids or parents or a new recipe gone wrong. They all avoid the topic of work.

“Family of Thomas Kinard?” It’s a different nurse this time, but she doesn’t blink an eye at the number of family Tommy has. “He’s resting in his room. You can go back to see him, but we ask that you keep it to 4 or 5 people at a time. He’s still pretty groggy and probably won’t remember what happened right away, so keep conversation simple.” Then she turns and starts walking down the hallway, not waiting or looking back to see if anyone follows.

Buck grabs Chim and Eddie and gestures at Bobby to come, too. At the last second he grabs Hen’s hand, and the five of them hurry to catch up with the nurse together.

“Breathe, Buck,” Hen whispers.

He can’t. Not yet.

part 1

part 2

part 4

[luveline]

would you ever write a ditsy!reader with sirius? where he's grumpy and she's just giggly and makes him feel a little less grumpy? I love you and your writing sending kisses <3

I love you

Fuck’s sake. Sirius glares at the TV. Fuck off. 

“What’s it say?” you call from the kitchen. 

“It’s raining all weekend.” 

“No way, really?” You appear with a tea towel in your hands, wiping your fingers dry one at a time. “Shit, sorry, baby. I guess we better get out our rain ponchos.” 

Sirius loves concerts, but he hates shitty weather. “What if they cancel?” 

“I don’t think they’ll cancel.” You put the tea towel on the coffee table and gesture for him to do something. What it is you want is unclear, but Sirius leans back, and, as usual, you make yourself at home in his lap. Gentle but not shy. “We might get a bit muddy, is all.” 

You rest your ribs half on his chest and half against the sofa. This close, he can confess to finding you the kind of beautiful that makes his jaw ache. Being around you is like a constant re-realisation that you’re his amazing girl, his one good love, as he likes to put it. Romance has never felt more real to him than when he’s with you, slipping his arm behind your back, and letting your nose at his jawline. Then the man on TV says the area is at risk of thunder and lightning on Saturday and he forgets to be in love. 

“Fucking hell,” he complains, clinging to you as though you have the power to change what the weatherman has to say. 

“It won’t be as bad as you’re thinking,” you sing-song back. 

“No, we’ll be turned to husks when we’re struck by lightning, but I’m sure it’ll be great.” 

“So negative,” you murmur, drawing along his collar. 

“I’m being realistic, lovely, our weekend is completely ruined.” 

“That’s not true, is it? Your weekend is ruined. Mine is the same as it was, because I don’t care if it rains on Metallica, I just want to spend time with you.” 

“You’re such a dick,” he says through a soft laugh. 

“Why? Because I am clearly the more loving partner?” you tease. 

“Yes. Because I don’t care about you at all, I only care about the concert, and spending time with you means nothing to me.” 

“Oh, well when you put it like that,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss his neck softly. Short presses of your lips with the faintest of sounds, then you're giggling. He’s glad you can’t see his face. You’d run with the honeyed smile he wears now. He would never hear the end of it. 

“I’ll have to find your anorak,” he says, rubbing a loving path down your back. 

“We’ll get the thermals out of the attic. Don’t worry, baby, the rain won’t ruin all your fun.” You kiss him again, and laugh like you’ve made a joke he isn’t privy to. 

“What’s funny?” he asks. 

“I just love you when you’re mad.” 

“I’m not mad.” 

“Aggrieved, then.” You lift your face only to hold his and press your nose to his cheek. You move your face back and forth, like a hurried nuzzling. “You’re such a downer.” 

“Stop it.” 

“Make me,” you say through giggles. 

He closes his eyes and turns in for a proper kiss. 

[profound-imagination]

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived - Azriel Shadowinger

A/N: Guess who's back? It's me! Should I be packing up to move house right now? Yes, yes I should. Am I? No, no I'm not.

I hope you enjoy this, Azriel does not come off well.

W/C: 4.2K

Azriel hated himself on a good day. Today, today he absolutely loathed himself. He knew how much she cared for him, hel, how much she loved him, that had made his job easier in the beginning, when Rhys had first sent him here as a spy. “It’ll be easy, Az,” Rhys had said, “She's already smitten with you, you’ll be able to walk right into the palace under the guise of courting her and she’ll ensure you have a room and you’re treated as an honoured guest!” Azriel had to agree, it would be easy. She had made it so painfully obvious from the day they had met.  

They had grown closer over the months he’d spent on the Continent with her. She had even gone as far as to source creams for his scars. “I know they won’t be as fancy as the Fae ones you probably use, but the man at the apothecary said they were the best for burns!” She had told him bashfully with a blush crawling over her cheeks. His shadows immediately moving to soothe them without their master's permission. He smiled down at her gently, playing the part he had been assigned, “Thank you, my love, what a thoughtful gift.” He said as he lifted one of her perfect hands to his mouth. Her smile was dazzling. Little did she know he spent his nights at home, in Prythian, an arm wrapped around another woman as they slept or danced or ate with their family.  

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you!” She was breathless as she approached him in the garden. Azriel having just landed in the furthest part of it. “Here I am!” He smiled down at her, she linked their arms and continued to walk alongside him, “There’s to be a ball! For my 21st Birthday, Father has sent invites all over, even to your family in Prythian!” She beamed up at him, as if inviting his family was the best thing to ever happen. Did she really not know the depths of her father's depravity? “That’s wonderful, I’m sure they’d love to attend, Rhysand does love a party.” He told her, “I’m nervous to see them again,” she confessed, “It’s so different now than it was when I last met them.” He patted her hand gently, “You have no reason to be nervous my love, they’ll adore you as I do.” Her eyes sparkled at his comment, and she preened from the compliment. He was never going to forgive himself.  

Cassian and Rhys flanked him as he waited at the bottom of the stairs for her. “You’ve told her, you’ve told Elain?” Rhys nodded, “Yes, she knows the part you are playing here and knows what to expect to see tonight.” Azriel nodded stiffly at his brother once and focused back on the staircase. She looked like an angel floating down the stairs towards him. An angel and a demon he mused to himself. “I’ve never seen a human look so beautiful.” He said to his brothers quietly, “Feyre did.” Cassian snorted a laugh at the High Lord, “Feyre was covered in worm shit and the mating bond was there.” Rhys elbowed him in response, “Both of you stop it!” Azriel hissed at his brothers, “This is her night.” Both brothers held their hands up in surrender. He took a step forward as she approached the bottom of the stairs. His shadows raced to meet her & danced around her in a way he had never seen. “You look resplendent, my love.” He told her as she took his offered hand. “Thank you, you too,” she said, a blush across her cheeks again, two shadows broke off from their dance to soothe her cheeks. “I mean, handsome! You look very handsome tonight Azriel, not that you do not always look handsome- “Cassian’s laugh cut her off and she blushed even harder.  

“You remember my brothers, Rhysand and Cassian?” Azriel introduced. “Of course,” she smiled at the two males and dropped into a courtesy that Azriel quickly pulled her up from. “It is your night, you bow to no one tonight, my love.” He told her, “But Azriel,” she protested, “He’s a High Lord!” Azriel shook his head, “Not tonight, tonight, he’s just Rhysand, my brother.” Rhys met her eyes and nodded, “Okay,” she smiled at them both, “It’s lovely to see you both again, did you bring your wives? I would so love to see them again!” She rambled, “Nes and Feyre are here,” Cassian told her, “As is Mor and Lucien and Elain & I think Eris is here to somewhere.” Azriel tensed at the mention of Elain’s name, and she shot him a questioning look that he shrugged off. Rhysand sauntered forward before Cassian could continue to talk and offered her his arm, “Shall we?” He purred at her & with a reassuring nod from Azriel she took the High Lords arm and allowed him to escort her into her birthday ball. Azriel took a deep breath and followed, steeling himself for what he was about to do.  

Azriel watched as Rhys spun her round the dance floor, smiling at the sight of his brother and the woman that he was supposedly courting. “She looks happy.” Elain’s words pulled him from his thoughts, his shadows abandoning him completely, in favour of the human dancing with his brother. He hummed in agreement, “Will you be coming home tonight?” She asked, Azriel met her doe eyes, the expression in them begging him to go with her. “Not tonight,” he said quietly. Elain’s face faltered and then she spoke again. “Why do they do that? Your shadows I mean? They seem to adore her but yet completely disappear when I’m around, as if they hate me.” He faced her, “I don’t know, they talk to me yes, but they don’t tell me their own motives if they don’t want too.” She searched his eyes and upon finding nothing there, she said, “You should get back to her.” And with that she vanished into the crowd.  

Azriel forced a smile onto his face as he approached them and bowed to Rhysand, “Mind if I cut in?” He asked, Rhys smirked at him, enjoying Azriel’s display more than he should. Azriel took a note to give him shit for that later as Rhys passed her hand into Azriel’s ruined one. He pulled her into his chest as he began to dance to the song, he knew Feyre had ensured would play and she beamed up at him. “You’re a wonderful dancer.” She said quietly, “I just have a wonderful partner.” He replied without missing a beat as he spun her. “Azriel?” He hummed at her to continue, “Will you leave here soon?” She asked bashfully, “Why do you ask, my love?” He spun her again as the song was reaching its end, “I just, you must miss your family, and despite your smiles and efforts, this is not your home, is it? It never will feel like your home, will it?” Gods, she was setting him up perfectly for what was coming next, and she didn’t even know it. The song ended and Azriel could hear Rhysand in his head telling him it was time as he dropped to one knee in front of her. She gasped but he started talking, “My love, my wonderful little human, my home is wherever you are, I would be the luckiest male on any continent if you would do me the greatest honour of being my wife?” He asked as gently as he could, looking in her eyes the entire time and he hated himself as he watched them fill with tears. He knew all she had ever wanted was someone to sweep her off her feet and that is exactly what he had done. She sniffled, once, twice, then let out a watery laugh as she threw herself towards him. “Of course I will! Yes Azriel, I will marry you!” He stood, bringing her with him wrapped in his arms as he spun them in a circle & over her head, he watched Elain slip from the party.  

Feyre was fawning over the ring he had given her, despite it being one that came from Feyre’s own jewellery box. Azriel stood with his brothers, “She’s never going to forgive this.” He told them both. Rhysand raised an eyebrow at him, “Which beautiful lady are we talking about?” Azriel sighed, “Y/N.” He said, “Elain knew what was coming tonight, but we need to find her, I saw her leave.” Cassian put a hand on Azriel’s shoulder, “Go, we can keep Y/N busy while you find her.” Azriel smiled gratefully at his brother as Rhysand called Eris over. “Congratulations, Shadowsinger.” The newly crowned High Lord of Autumn crooned, “Not that you deserve her, I see right through this plan, Rhysand, so what do you need me for, I wonder?” Eris had always been too smart for his own good. Azriel was sure Eris was where Lucien got it from. “Right now,” Rhysand gritted out, “I need you to dance with her, keep her busy for a little while.” Eris nodded once, “I can do that, but for the record, I am against using a woman like this, especially one so young and clearly smitten, she's innocent and she doesn’t deserve to have her feelings played with like this.” Rhys nodded back, “Noted.”  

“I still find it hard to believe he wants me, boring human me!” You gushed to Feyre who beamed at you, “Why wouldn’t he?” She laughed. “Why wouldn’t he indeed?” A voice crooned from behind you, and you turned and then let out a squeak, dropping into a courtesy, “High Lord, how lovely to see you again!” He smiled and pulled a small, wrapped box out of his pocket, “Happy Birthday, Y/N.” He said, taking your hand and placing the box in it. “Thank you, High Lord, it is very kind of you to get me a gift when your presence here is honour enough.” He smiled gently, “It’s just Eris, and it is me who is honoured to be able to share in not only your birthday celebration, but it would seem your engagement as well, now open your present and honour me with a dance?” You giggled and opened the parcel and, in the box, sat a beautiful silver necklace with a teardrop pendant hanging from it, the size of your thumb nail. Contained in the pendant, a singular flame.  

“I do not know if you remember your father bringing you to visit Autumn when you were a child, but I remember your visit. You were captivated by the forests, the trees, and the wildlife, so much so you wondered off one evening and I, knowing my father would blame me for you being missing, frantically came after you. When I found you, you’d been cornered by one of our nastier creatures and in my panic I sent my flames straight towards it, well that was it, you weren’t phased by nearly being eaten by a monster, you just wanted to know more about my fire so I sat in that clearing with you and I showed you and I told you-,” you cut him off “Even the smallest flame can start a blaze.” Eris smiled and nodded, and then you gasped. “Is this? Is this one of your flames?” He nodded again, “To keep you safe and to guide your way if you’re ever lost in the darkness.” You grinned at him, “Thank you, Eris, this is the most thoughtful and wonderful gift I’ve ever been given!” He snorted a laugh, “Remind me to rub it in the Shadowsingers face that he proposed but my gift was still better. You rolled your eyes at him, “Would you like to dance?” he almost purred, “I would love to!” You grinned and allowed him to sweep you into a dance.  

Eris was the best dance partner you had ever had. He was graceful and accurate in his movements as he guided you around the floor. You couldn’t help the smile that was spread across your face as he span and dipped you. His gentle laughter filling your ears. “Do you all move so gracefully?” You asked as he span you back into his chest, he grinned, “I’m 538, I've had years to practice.” He said and your smile fell a little, “I, I don’t have that kind of lifespan, I’ll be lucky to see 100. Why would he put himself through that?” You asked quietly, thinking about how many of your lifetimes Azriel had already lived. Eris’s thumb came up and soothed the frown in your brow. “Because you’re the most captivating little human I’ve ever met, he is an incredibly lucky bastard to get to call you, his wife. If I was him, I’d be honoured to spend whatever time we had together.” Your face softened, “Really?” He smiled again, “I’m positively green with jealousy.” His words poured over you like honey, smooth and sweet and you snorted a laugh quietly. “I think I need a drink.” You told him and Eris nodded, leading you from the dance floor, “I’ll be right back with that drink.” He said and you nodded your thanks at him, looking around the room for your fiancé who was nowhere to be seen.  

You did however see Feyre and Rhysand having some kind of discussion in the corner, Rhys’ nod towards the door was enough to tell you where Azriel had gone. He had left the party and you moved across the room to go and check on him, you knew these events were loud and often overwhelming for not only him but his shadows as well. You slipped out of the room unseen. You wandered down hallways a love drunk smile on your face. You weren't sure how a plain human such as yourself had caught the eye of the elusive Shadowsinger but you had, and you wouldn’t ever take it for granted. A singular little shadow raced towards you, you smiled at it, raising your hand so it could dance between your fingers as you had learned they liked to do. It danced through your fingers happily for a moment or two before racing down the hallway again and waiting for you at the end. You laughed quietly to yourself, never understanding how anyone could ever fear the shadows that had never been anything but playful towards you. You caught up with it, allowing it to hide itself on your shoulder, tangled in your hair and you continued to walk, it seemed your little friend had been sent to bring you somewhere and you grinned at Azriel’s thoughtfulness.  

You turned a final corner, your grin making your cheeks ache and then your world imploded. Azriel had his back to you, his wings splayed out behind him, but you spotted the arms around his neck and the legs wrapped around his waist, feet locked at the base of his wings. The shoes that were discarded behind him you recognised, you had been gushing to their owner earlier about how beautiful they were, and they had promised to send you a pair as a birthday gift. “I love you.” He was murmering between kisses as you watched, frozen in place, his hips moving in lazy thrusts. “I love you so much, Elain.” She was clawing at his back; one had moving up and down the apex of his left wing as he shuddered. A majority of his shadows were nowhere to be seen, a handful had remained and were hissing at the one hidden in your hair, that lone little shadow had picked you to be loyal to rather than its master. Tears spilled out of your eyes just as a hand wrapped over your mouth and another around your stomach and pulled you backwards into a warm solid chest. Darkness filled the hallway, and those hands span you and pressed you into the wall, their chest pressing into your back.  

“Azriel!” Rhsyand growled and you watched as High Lord pulled his brother away from Elain. “Right yourself!” Nesta hissed at her sister. It was Eris who had you pressed against the wall, and he gently pulled you away from it but didn’t move more than a step away from you. Wildfire danced in his eyes as he stared at the Shadowsinger with contempt. You took a deep breath and turned to face what was behind you. “Y/N,” Azriel said quietly, taking a step towards you and you took a step backwards, as did Eris in turn. “No.” You said your voice not as strong as you wanted it to be. The pendant warmed on your clavicle. “I’m here. I’ve got you.” It seemed to say. “Why?” Was all you asked. Azriel looked to Rhysand, the two of them having a silent conversation. “Out loud.” Eris ground out. “The lady has been hurt enough don’t you think?” Rhysand levelled him with a look before he began to speak. “We received word, your father has a plot, one that endangers our people, not just those of the Night Court but all Courts, I know this is hard to believe for you, but your father, he’s-” You cut him off. “You think I don’t know what kind of man my father is?!” You hissed and Rhys continued talking, explaining your fathers plot. Your stomach turned and the tears continued to fall. You couldn't hear much over the thumping of your crumbling heart. “Was any of it true?” You asked Azriel, interrupting Rhys again. He shook his head, “I’m so sorry, I-” You didn’t hear the rest of his sentence as you turned and ran. “Why didn’t you stop her?!” Rhys snapped at who you assumed was Eris. “I told you; I don’t stand for using innocents like this.” He said coldly, absentmindedly pressing a hand to his chest to alleviate the tightness that had appeared there in the last few moments.  

You ran, and ran, and ran. You had headed straight for the lawns and the forest beyond. Your shoes had been lost long ago but you barely registered your bleeding feet or the forest floor that was cutting into them. Your head was spinning, none of it was real. Azriel had played you and played you well. You didn’t see it coming, just like you didn’t see the slope before you plunged down it. Branches and thorns scraped at your body and face as you tumbled. All air hit your lungs as you collided with an ancient oak tree, your teeth rattling as you came to a stop and your vision blurred. It was only then you realised how cold it was and how hurt you were, your ankle sitting at an awkward angle. Whimpering as you tried to stand you realised the gravity of the situation you were in but still, compared to going back to the Manor you were more than content to sit there and grieve your short-lived engagement. You weren’t sure how long you had sat against that tree, staring at the beautiful ring Azriel had given you, the ring that rightly belonged to Elain you supposed.  

You couldn’t pinpoint when you fell asleep, but you’d never forget waking up. Surrounded by men. Swallowing thickly you took them in, all much bigger than you and staring down at you like you were prey. “Ello darling, nice sleep?” The ringleader questioned. You didn’t answer him. “He asked you a question.” His second in command sneered. “I fell.” Was all you said. “You fell?” The third laughed, “Figured with your pretty dress you’d be at the party.” The leader spoke again. “Thank them for checking on you and leave.” You gasped at Eris’ voice filled your head. The three men studied you in turn. “I was, I should be getting back, thank you for checking on me.” You said, much stronger than you felt. “What’s the hurry?” The third asked. “Seems like a boring political party if you ask me.” The second added on. You tried to push to your feet and winced at the pain that shot through your ankle. “Hurt yourself?” The leader smirked. “Break the necklace.” Eris’ voice again, “I just twisted my ankle, I’m fine.” You said, “Y/N!” Eris was beginning to get louder in your head. The leader smirked at his companions, stepping towards you. “What are you holding there?” He asked, you hadn't realised that you were subconsciously holding the necklace Eris had given you. “Tell them it’s nothing, just a silly heirloom.” Eris sounded panicked now. “Just a silly little heirloom.” You rushed out. “Let me see?” He said, it wasn’t really a question. He knocked your hand out of the way and pulled the necklace from your neck. Eris growled in your head as you flinched. The leader observed the necklace with distain and launched it towards the trunk of a nearby tree where the pendant shattered, the small flame igniting from it. The men paid it no mind.  

The leader stepped towards you and you whimpered as you retreated a step. “I need you to fight.” Eris spoke clearly. “Scratch, bite, kick, just fight Y/N.” Eris told you, but you had already made a mistake, you were pinned. The leader's hands pawed at you. “Please, don’t.” You begged, he just laughed. Ripping the bodice of your dress as his companions closed in. “Such a pretty little thing, out here all alone.” The second crooned, “Lucky for us.” The third added. “What makes you think she’s alone?” Eris’ voice filled the tree, the leaves rustling around. “I suggest you back away and unhand the lady before I kill you where you stand.” He said, his voice full of authority. The leader shoved you backwards as he turned. “You’re just one man.” He sneered at Eris, who laughed. “I’m no man.” He said, you could see nothing but the wildfire in his eyes shining in the darkness as he stepped out of the trees. “I’m a male and you do not want to fight me. I’m trying to do you a favour, one that you do not deserve but I don’t want to frighten the lady.” The leader nodded to his companions, who drew their swords. “She was asking for someone to find her.” The leader scoffed. “Out here all alone, dressed like that.” Eris seemed to grow taller at his words. “No female ever asks for a male like you to touch her against her will.” He growled. “Where I’m from you’d lose a hand or worse for that. Leave or you will die.” The leader drew his sword and his companions advanced on Eris. “Death it is then.” Eris said with a humourless laugh. He wasted no time; he didn’t even engage them in sword play. He simply winnowed behind each one and slit their throats before wiping his dagger on the leader's trousers and sheathed it on this thigh. 

“Are you okay?” He asked coming towards you slowly as to not scare you. “My necklace.” You said sadly, “They broke my beautiful necklace.” He smiled at you soft, “Don’t worry about the necklace. I’ll get you another one.” He said, his tone gentle as he removed his jacket and wrapped it around you to cover where they had ripped your dress. You couldn’t find it in you to be embarrassed. “But the little flame-” He cut you off, “Will be more than happy to go back into a pendant around your throat.” He said, showing you the little flame dancing through his fingers. You smiled at it sadly. “I’m sorry you got thrown at a tree.” You told it quietly and without Eris commanding the little flame to or before he could even stop it, the flame had jumped from his fingers and was gently brushing against your cheek. It wasn’t hot, nor did it burn, it was warm, comforting even and it removed the sadness from your smile. “Can you walk?” He asked and you shook your head no. “Okay, I’m going to carry you, is that alright?” He asked “Yes,” you said quietly. “That’s okay.” He swept you up into his arms and began walking back to the Manor. “I don’t want to face him, I’m so embarrassed, I was such a fool.” You told Eris. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” He told you. “If he says anything to you or even so much as approaches you, I’ll turn him to ash.” You giggled at his words. “I don’t want to stay here, not with my father.” You admitted, the first time you had said such words to anyone. “Then we’ll see about you coming to Autumn with me.” He said and you gasped quietly, “Really?” He nodded, “If it is where you want to go, then yes, I will take you back with me.” You curled further into his chest. “I would very much like to come with you.” You muttered, his natural heat making you sleepy. “Then it shall be done, but let's get your ankle looked at and healed first.”  

[pinejayy]

╰➤ Office Riding ~

paring: trafalgar law x f!reader

summary: using my headcanons from (riding them) // reader is needy and she desperately wants to ride him but as always he’s busy with work. (established relationship)

warnings: smut, teasing, unprotected sex, dick riding, slight nipple play, law calling you a princess, Captain play.

✦•·················• 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃!! •·················•✦

Law seemed to be working for hours on end, you usually didn’t mind but today….today you were feeling particularly needy between your legs. Slowly you sneak away from the crew doing their daily tasks around the ship and made your way to his office. Knocking on his door, waiting until you heard his voice from the other side.

“Who is it?”

You heard Law call out from behind the door, you slowly open the door and peek your head in. “It’s me.”

“Hmm…do you need something as you see I’m very busy.” He mumbled, not even looking away from his work. Prefect…you couldn’t help but think to yourself. Walking into his office and locking the door behind you.

“Aww you work to much. Take a break with me.” You pouted, and walked towards him, rubbing his shoulders slightly. To which he grumbled and shrugs off your shoulders.

“I already told you Y/N-ya I’m very busy, so please find yourself out of my office and help the others with their tasks.”

Still being needy you whine softly, leaning down and you began to place small kisses against his check. “Please..Law.” And he keeps grumbling. “Please I already told you! I’m trying to work here.” He snaps at you. To which you sigh, fine….

You wiggle your way to his lap, sitting down. Whimpering softly, Law grumbled and sighed. He didn’t bother moving you. He could finish his work with you on his lap right? As he began to write down on his sheets he felt you grind against his leg.

“Please…I need to ride you….I want to ride you Captain.” You whine out softly, burying your face into the crook of his neck. Moving your hips against his leg, moaning softly as you felt the fabric of your panties grind against your clit. “Need your cock…please Captain.”

Law’s breath hitched slightly and he groans, his cock twitching slightly at your lewd words. But he was too stubborn to give in. “Well work for it then..” His eyes never leaving his work.

To which you gladly obeyed. Moving your hips against his legs, moaning softly under your breath. Placing small kissing along his neck. Which would earn a soft groan from Law. “You’re mean….I just wanna ride your pretty cock.”

Again…your words were getting to Law. He wanted to throw you against his desk, he wanted to hear your moans.

“Please…need to ride you…can I Captain.” You moan, looking at him. Law couldn’t help but admire the sight. The way your mouth hung opened as you moaned. Your dirty words rolling off your tongue. It’ll drive any man mad..

“Keep begging, I’m still very busy.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, suddenly smirking to yourself. You knew the prefect words to get him worked up. “Aw…fine. You’re still very mean to your poor needy horny girlfriend. But I guess you’ll leg would do. I don’t need your co-“ You began to say and immediately you were cut off mid sentence.

Law growled before you could finish your sentence, he roughly grabbed your face and captured his lips against yours.

Letting out a needy moan as you felt his lips against yours. Law didn’t waste any time to deepen the kiss, licking your bottom lip. Asking for permission to which you gladly granted him. Both tongues fight over dominance, he couldn’t help but grip your buttcheeks. Giving you a slight squeeze. Helping you grind against his leg.

“I dare you. Finish that sentence.” He growled against your lips. Biting your lower lip. “You think my cock isn’t good enough for you? That you just need my leg.”

Pulling away slightly, he couldn’t help but admire at your beauty. The way you looked at him, the lust In your eyes, how you panted slightly. And how desperate and horny you looked. Law couldn’t help but let out a low growl. He placed gently kisses along your neck as his hands worked along your body, removing your clothes until you were fully nude on his lap. “So beautiful, so fucking beautiful.” He mumbled against your lip.

Law began undoing his belt and tugged his pants. But just enough for his cock to spring up, the head already having precum on it. You felt his his hard member against your stomach. He smirked, wrapping his hand around himself, giving himself long and soft strokes. “Can’t believe I have to stop working because you’re a horny mess.”

Whimpering slightly, god you needed him. And he couldn’t help but smirk at your reaction. “Dirty slut, I would usually make you beg for it but since you look like a fool I’ll entertain you. Ride me.” He demanded.

“Ride your Captain.”

You wasted no time, and were about aline yourself but he stopped you. “Ah ah ah, tsk tsk.” He shook his head. “Spit on it first.” He grabbed his cock and slapped the skin on your stomach.

“Yes Law.” You say and soon after you yelped slightly, he tugged your hair. “I mean Captain. Yes Captain..” Correcting yourself, and he patted your butt.

Spitting on his cock, he groaned. Giving him a few strokes. “That’s good, good girl..” He moaned.

Law wasted no time, he helped you aline yourself to his needy member. You sink down slowly and gasp slightly. It took him all his willpower not to fuck you roughly. He gave you a moment to adjust. And after awhile you move your hips slowly. Making you moan softly.

“So good..” Moaning out as you move your hips. “I love your cock Captain.” You whimper softly. Moving against his hips. His cock hitting your prefect spot.

Making Law growl, placing his hands on hips. Thrusting up slightly. “Hmm? I couldn’t hear that Princess. Mind speaking up for me?” He teased slightly, moving his hips against yours. Making you moan more.

“I love your cock….it makes me feel so good Captain. So good.” You moan out. “It’s the best cock ever..”

“That’s a good girl.” He cooed out softly, rubbing your sides. Smirking at your words. “Best cock huh? Hmm damn right. And this right here.” He said, eyes darted down to your pussy. “This is the best pussy I’ve ever had. You take me so well Princess.”

God his words were making you weak..

You continue to ride him, the room was filled with soft moans and low groans. You couldn’t help but bounce on his cock. And it was driving Law crazy watching the way your mouth was letting out these moans, the way your body moved against his. And especially the way your boobs bounced up and down. He was lost in your boobs…

He couldn’t help but to bring his hands against your boobs and rub them slightly, giving them a slight squeeze. “Mm all mine…” He growled. Leaning in and he took one of nipples between his lips and started to suck on it slightly. Making you gasp out, throwing your head back. “Oh God captain.”

His swirled his tongue around your nipple, biting it slightly. Pulling away slightly. He couldn’t help but eye you, smirking to himself. Pinching your other nipple. “Hmm can’t forget about this one.” He said and took your other nipple to his mouth, sucking on it slightly.

Pulling away slightly, he looks at you and gives your nipples small licks.

Law could tell you were getting close with the way your moans grew louder and how your walls tightened around his. He leaned in and dragged his tongue along your neck. Bringing his dangerous fingers to your clit rubbing small circles around it. Pushing you closer to your climax.

“Gonna cum all over my cock huh?” He mumbled against your neck. Making you whimper, nodding.

Moving your hips faster against his, his cock was hitting your g-spot making cry out in pleasure. He immediately eyed you and covered your mouth with his other hand.

“What? You want the whole crew hearing us?” He growled. Rubbing your clit faster, shaking your head and he smirked removing his hand. “Good..now keep quiet or I’ll shove your panties down your throat.”

Biting your bottom, you kept riding him as you felt your lower stomach muscles tighten up. “Captain…please I’m so close…may I cum?”

“Just wait…can you wait for me Princess. Please.” He moaned out, holding you down with one hand as his other hand was working on your clit.

Law moans were getting a little louder to the point where he had to bite down on his bottom lip to prevent him from getting louder. His movements were getting sloppier which meant he was close.

Suddenly he gave your clit a hard pinch “Now, please princess.” He begged slightly and leaned in to share a kiss with you. Shoving his tongue into your mouth.

And with a few more thrusts both you and Law reached your climaxes. Moaning into each other’s mouths. He gave you a few more thrusts before pulling away from the kiss. You placed your forehead against his shoulder, placing small kisses against his skin.

He gave you a moment to catch you breath, before he pulled you away and pinned you against his desk. Earning a gasp from your lips. Not caring about his paperwork and books. Kicking off his bottoms.

“I’m going to teach you a lesson for bothering me. You knew I had a lot of work.” He growled, wrapping a hand around your neck, applying a little pressure. “Now I’m going to teach you lesson.” He said, adding two fingers inside of you.

“You’re not leaving this office until you’ve learned your lesson, Princess.”

// tagging: @genderless-naper and @oatmealmika

[be4chywritez]

sweet nothing | oscar piastri

oscar piastri x heiress!reader

I find myself runnin’ home to your sweet nothings

request : heiress of mclaren and oscar they meet at like a dinner at her estate or something and her dad or like father figure asks if oscar is single, and oscar says yes and her father figure tells them to go on a date and they end up going out maybe oscar is a lil asshole😊

You brush the dirt off your hands, glancing proudly at the roses you’ve just planted. The soil is warm under your fingers, and you lean back, wiping sweat from your forehead. A small smile plays on your lips as you admire the neat rows of blooms, but your peace is broken when you hear your name being called.

You turn, blinking against the sunlight, and spot your grandfather standing by the patio, his brows furrowed in that way he always does when he’s trying to look serious. Lando stands beside him, grinning widely, and next to him is someone you don’t recognize—a tall guy with messy brown hair and a quiet expression.

Your grandfather calls again, his voice a little sharper now. “Come here for a moment.”

You dust your hands off on your shorts and shuffle over, feeling the light breeze cool the sweat on your skin. Lando’s grin widens as you approach. “Still playing in the dirt, I see,” he teases.

“Always,” you respond, flashing him a playful smile. Your gaze drifts to the new guy, and your curiosity piques. He stands a little more stiffly than Lando, like he’s not quite sure what to do with himself. There’s something about the way he glances at you—polite, but distant—that makes you feel like you’re meeting someone important.

“This is Oscar Piastri,” Lando says, nudging the guy next to him. “Newest McLaren driver.”

Oscar smiles at you, though it’s small and a bit shy, like he’s not used to all the attention. “Hi,” he says, his accent lilting in a way that catches your attention.

“Hi,” you reply, a little awkward, but you can’t help but smile back. You try to remember if you’ve heard his name before, but your mind draws a blank. Racing was never something you followed closely, even if it was always around you.

Before you can say anything else, your grandfather clears his throat, his eyes twinkling with something that makes you uneasy. “Oscar’s a fine driver,” he says, his voice heavy with authority. “I think it would be good for you two to spend some time together.”

You blink, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. “Wait… what?”

Your grandfather’s expression doesn’t falter. He crosses his arms, the hint of a smirk on his lips. “Oscar, are you single?” he asks, turning the conversation before you can even process what he’s suggesting.

Oscar looks a little startled, his eyes darting from your grandfather to you, then back again. “Uh, yes, sir,” he answers, and you notice his fingers fidget slightly, like he’s not sure how to react either.

“Good,” your grandfather replies, his tone firm. “Then I suggest you take my granddaughter out on a date.”

You feel your cheeks warm, your mouth dropping open slightly. “A—date?”

Oscar looks as surprised as you feel, and for a second, you’re not sure who’s more uncomfortable. But then he nods, his voice soft but steady. “If that’s what you want, sir.”

You don’t know what to say. You glance at Oscar, who looks just as confused as you are, but there’s something in his gaze—something careful and maybe even curious. He doesn’t seem like the type to argue with your grandfather, and honestly, neither are you.

Lando, ever the instigator, lets out a low chuckle. “Well, this just got interesting.”

You smile awkwardly, not sure what to make of it all. Oscar offers you a small, almost apologetic smile, and you feel a strange flutter in your chest. Maybe it won’t be so bad. He seems nice enough, and if nothing else, it’ll be a chance to get to know him.

The next day, you find yourself standing in front of a trendy restaurant in the heart of the city. It’s not the quiet, tucked-away café you were imagining, but rather a bustling spot with large windows, modern decor, and a steady stream of people coming and going. Your stomach twists with nervous excitement as you spot Oscar standing by the entrance, looking cool and collected in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans.

“Hey,” he greets you with a brief smile, his hands in his pockets. There’s a casual confidence in the way he stands, but something about his demeanor feels a little… distant, like he’s already halfway checked out of the conversation before it even begins.

“Hey,” you reply, smiling back as he steps aside to let you walk in first. The restaurant hums with energy—clinking glasses, soft chatter, and the occasional laugh. You feel a little out of place, like maybe this is fancier than you were expecting.

Oscar pulls out your chair, but there’s something about the motion that feels more like routine than a thoughtful gesture. As you sit down, he moves quickly to his own seat, already glancing at the menu like this is just another pit stop in his day.

“So, you like this place?” you ask, trying to break the ice.

“Yeah,” Oscar says with a short nod, eyes still scanning the menu. “It’s close by, and the food’s good.” His tone is polite, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s keeping things at arm’s length.

You fiddle with your napkin, glancing around at the other patrons—groups of friends laughing together, couples holding hands. You can’t help but feel a little self-conscious. You were hoping for something quieter, more personal, but this feels… different.

The waiter comes by, and you both place your orders. Oscar seems at ease, chatting with the waiter casually, but when his attention turns back to you, there’s a moment of awkward silence. You search for something to say, but it’s hard to get a read on him. He’s polite, sure, but there’s a wall up—one you can’t quite figure out how to get past.

“So, what do you do for fun?” you ask, trying to steer the conversation into something light.

Oscar leans back, shrugging a little. “Mostly training, to be honest. Racing takes up a lot of my time.”

You nod, not sure what to say next. He’s not giving you much to work with, and you start to wonder if this was a bad idea. Maybe he’s just busy, or maybe he’s just not interested. Either way, the conversation feels stilted, like you’re trying too hard to fill the gaps.

“Do you follow F1?” he asks, breaking the silence.

You bite your lip, feeling a little embarrassed. “Honestly, not really,” you admit. “I mean, I know about it because of my family, but I’ve never really been that into it.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Kind of ironic, don’t you think?”

You flush slightly, not sure how to take that. “Yeah, I guess so.”

He doesn’t push further, just takes a sip of his water and glances out the window, his mind seemingly elsewhere. You feel a flicker of disappointment. This wasn’t how you imagined your first date going—Oscar seemed nice enough, but there’s a coolness to him that you can’t shake.

As the food arrives, you try to make the best of the situation, steering the conversation back to lighter topics. You talk about your garden again, hoping to spark some interest, but while Oscar listens, he doesn’t offer much in return. Every now and then, he glances at his phone, not enough to be rude, but enough to make you wonder if he’s distracted by something else.

“Sorry,” he says once, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “Just… work stuff.”

You nod, trying to brush it off, but it adds to the growing sense that maybe this date isn’t a priority for him. You had expected a chance to connect, to get to know him beyond the racer image, but it feels like you’re barely scratching the surface.

Still, you don’t want to give up just yet.

“Have you always wanted to be a driver?” you ask, genuinely curious.

Oscar’s gaze flicks to you, his expression softening slightly. “Yeah, since I was a kid. I was pretty focused on it, even when I was younger. It’s all I’ve ever really wanted to do.”

For a moment, you see a glimpse of something more—a passion that runs deep, something that makes him tick. But just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone again, his expression neutral once more.

The rest of the meal passes in a blur of small talk and polite conversation, but the spark you had hoped for never really comes. As the check arrives, Oscar pulls out his card without hesitation, glancing at you with a half-smile.

“Ready to head out?” he asks.

You nod, feeling a little deflated, but you don’t want to show it. Maybe this was just a bad day for him. Maybe he’s just not the type to open up easily. Either way, you feel like there’s something you’re missing, something that keeps him at a distance.

As you both step out into the cool evening air, Oscar walks you to the curb where his car is parked. He pauses for a moment, looking at you, and for a brief second, you wonder if he’s going to say something that might change the tone of the evening.

But instead, he just smiles—a little tired, a little distracted. “It was nice hanging out with you,” he says, his tone polite but nothing more.

“Yeah, it was,” you reply, trying to match his energy, though the words feel hollow.

Oscar opens the car door for you, and as you slide in, you can’t help but wonder what’s really going on behind those guarded eyes. There’s something he’s not telling you—something that keeps him from fully being here with you.

As he drives you home, the silence between you grows, and you find yourself staring out the window, wondering if maybe you were hoping for too much too soon.

Despite the awkwardness of the first date, Oscar lingers in your thoughts more than you’d like to admit. There’s something about him—his quiet intensity, the way he carries himself—that draws you in, even if he hasn’t fully opened up to you yet. Maybe it’s just the mystery of it all. Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s unlike anyone you’ve dated before.

Your crush sneaks up on you slowly. You catch yourself thinking about what you’ll wear next time you see him. You imagine different scenarios in your head—how the next date might go, whether he’ll be more relaxed, more present. You convince yourself that it’s just a matter of time.

When the next race rolls around, you decide to attend. You tell yourself it’s because you’re supporting McLaren, but deep down, you know it’s because of Oscar. Even though things were a little off between you two, there’s a part of you that’s eager to see him again. Maybe things will be different this time.

The race is packed with spectators, and the air hums with excitement. As you weave through the crowds, you feel a mixture of nerves and anticipation. Watching Oscar on the track feels different now—you’re not just another fan in the stands. You’re here for him, and that thought makes your heart race a little faster.

The race itself is thrilling, and you can’t help but feel happiness as Oscar crosses the finish line. He doesn’t win, but he holds his own, finishing in a solid position. You smile, thinking about how you’ll congratulate him afterward.

After the race, you find your way to the paddock, your heart pounding in your chest as you spot Oscar among the throngs of people. He’s surrounded by his team, all smiles and handshakes as they celebrate a job well done. When he sees you, his expression flickers for a moment—recognition, maybe a touch of something softer—but it’s gone just as quickly as it appears.

“Hey,” you greet him, your voice a little too bright. “Congrats on the race.”

“Thanks,” Oscar replies, offering you a polite smile. His demeanor is cool, but not unfriendly—just… reserved. You start to notice the subtle distance between you, like he’s here, but not entirely.

“Maybe we could grab a drink later?” you suggest, your tone casual, but your nerves bubbling beneath the surface.

Oscar glances at his watch, then back at you. “Yeah, maybe. Let’s see how the rest of the day goes.”

It’s not a no, but it’s not exactly the enthusiastic yes you were hoping for either. Still, you brush it off, telling yourself that he’s probably just tired from the race.

You stand there for a moment, watching Oscar disappear into the crowd. There’s a strange feeling lingering in your chest—something about the interaction seemed… off. But before you can get too deep in your thoughts, a familiar voice breaks through.

“Already scaring him off?” Lando teases, sidling up to you with his usual playful grin.

You turn to him, laughing despite yourself. “Please, Lando. I’m not that terrifying.”

He leans against the nearby barrier, looking at you with a twinkle in his eye. “Nah, just a little intimidating with your… I don’t know, your knowledge of roses or whatever.”

You roll your eyes, giving him a light shove. “Not my fault you have no appreciation for fine horticulture.”

“Fine horticulture,” he repeats with mock seriousness, his lips twitching into a smirk. “But seriously, how’s it going? Did Oscar hit you with that ‘strong and silent’ routine, or is he actually saying words now?”

You pause, trying to figure out how to answer. “He’s… quiet, yeah. But I think there’s more to him than he lets on.”

Lando hums, crossing his arms. “Oh, there’s definitely more. Just give him time. Maybe flash him a few more of those smiles—you know, the ones that make people all… swoony.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’ll be sure to use my superpowers wisely, then.”

Before Lando can retort, Oscar’s figure appears again, cutting through the crowd and making his way back toward you both. You feel a flutter of surprise. He was distant before, but now there’s a new intensity in his gaze.

“Hey,” Oscar says, glancing briefly at Lando before turning to you. “I was thinking, maybe we could grab those drinks after all?”

You blink, taken aback. “Yeah? I thought you weren’t sure about it earlier.”

Oscar shrugs slightly, the corners of his mouth lifting into the faintest of smiles. “Changed my mind. If you’re still up for it.”

Lando snickers quietly next to you, clearly amused by the shift in Oscar’s tone. “Well, that sounds like a yes to me.”

You can’t help but smile, a warm excitement bubbling up inside you. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

The bar Oscar takes you to is tucked away in the city, with low lighting and soft music humming in the background. It’s more intimate than the first restaurant—smaller, cozier. It makes you feel like this is something real, like there’s something between you both that’s beginning to take shape.

You sit across from each other at a small table, nursing drinks, and for a while, the conversation flows. Oscar’s a bit more relaxed than usual, and it makes you feel like maybe you’re finally cracking the surface, finally getting to see the person behind the cool, quiet exterior.

“So,” you say, taking a sip of your drink. “What made you change your mind? You seemed… hesitant before.”

Oscar looks at you for a moment, like he’s trying to come up with the right words. “I guess I just thought it might be fun after all. Figured it couldn’t hurt to get to know each other better.”

You smile, feeling a flutter of hope. “Yeah. I’m glad you did.”

For a few more minutes, the conversation rolls on, and you find yourself leaning into it—into him. He’s attentive, even charming in his own way, and you can’t help but feel your heart begin to race a little faster. But then, just as things seem to settle into a comfortable rhythm, his phone lights up on the table.

You catch a glimpse of the screen out of the corner of your eye—a name you don’t recognize, followed by a few messages that he quickly swipes away without reading. It’s subtle, almost like he’s trying not to let you see it, but the moment leaves a faint unease in the back of your mind.

You push the feeling aside, convincing yourself it’s nothing. Probably just a friend or someone from the team. But when his phone lights up again, this time with a more persistent vibration, it’s harder to ignore.

“Everything okay?” you ask, trying to keep your voice casual.

“Yeah,” Oscar says, his tone clipped as he checks his phone again before silencing it. “Just some messages. Nothing important.”

You nod, but the way he’s so quick to brush it off leaves you feeling unsettled. It’s like there’s a part of him still walled off, something he’s not telling you. But you don’t press, don’t want to ruin the moment.

As the evening goes on, you notice him glancing at his phone a few more times. The distraction is subtle, but it’s there, casting a small shadow over what otherwise feels like a perfect night.

You try to brush it off, reminding yourself that he’s a busy guy—he probably has a million things going on at once. But as the drinks dwindle and the conversation slows, you can’t help but feel like there’s something—or someone—else that’s occupying his thoughts.

The days after your drink date are… strange. You had hoped that spending more time with Oscar would bring you closer together, but instead, things feel more distant than ever. He’s not cold, not exactly, but there’s a guardedness to him that wasn’t there before.

He texts you, asks how you’re doing, but it’s never as warm as you want it to be. You tell yourself that maybe he’s just busy, that it’s just part of being a driver in such a high-stakes sport. But deep down, there’s a little voice in your head whispering that something isn’t right.

You push it aside, trying to focus on the excitement of seeing him again. When he suggests going to the beach, you jump at the chance, eager to spend more time with him.

The breeze is warm, a gentle contrast to the coolness of the sand beneath your feet as you walk side by side with Oscar. The beach is quieter than usual, only a few scattered people, and the rhythmic crash of the waves fills the gaps between your conversation. There’s a lightness to the moment—a sense of possibility. You sneak a glance at Oscar, feeling a small spark of excitement flutter in your chest.

You tell yourself not to read too much into it. But there’s a softness in his smile when he looks at you, a hint of something more, and you can’t help but wonder if this is what falling for someone is supposed to feel like.

“You’ve been quiet,” Oscar says, his voice cutting through the hum of the waves. He nudges you lightly with his arm, a playful gesture that makes you smile despite the nervousness you’ve felt creeping in since the start of the date.

“Just… thinking,” you reply, your eyes drifting out to the horizon where the sun is starting to dip low. “This is nice, though. I like spending time with you.”

You mean it. Despite the moments of awkwardness and the hesitations that have clouded your other dates, something about being here—walking with him along the shoreline—feels right. You’ve never had a relationship that felt this natural before. There’s always been some underlying expectation, some hidden motive from the people in your life who wanted you for your family’s name and status.

But with Oscar, you want to believe it’s different. You want to believe he likes you for you.

Oscar clears his throat, breaking the moment. “Yeah, it’s been good,” he says, his tone almost too casual. There’s a flicker of discomfort behind his words, like he’s trying to keep things light.

Before you can dwell on it, a voice cuts through the air, drawing both of your attentions.

“Oscar! Is that really you?”

You turn, and your heart sinks as you see a tall, stunning woman walking toward the two of you. She’s dressed effortlessly, her dark hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, and she carries herself with a confidence that immediately makes you feel small.

Oscar’s reaction is immediate—his posture stiffens, his eyes darting away from yours as he rubs the back of his neck. “Hey, uh… didn’t expect to see you here.

Her eyes flick between you and Oscar, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she takes in the sight of you together. “It’s been a while,” she says, her tone smooth, easy. “Didn’t think you’d be back in town.”

You stand there awkwardly, unsure of what to do or say, and the moment stretches painfully long. The familiarity between them is palpable, and a sinking feeling starts to form in your stomach.

“I’m just here for a bit,” Oscar replies, his voice suddenly lacking the warmth it had moments ago. He seems uncomfortable—like he’s trying to get through this interaction as quickly as possible.

The woman shifts her gaze to you, her smile widening just enough to make you feel scrutinized. “And who’s this?” she asks, as if you’re a new accessory she’s appraising.

You offer a small, polite smile, though your chest feels tight. “I’m—”

“Just a friend,” Oscar cuts in quickly, his voice sharp and clipped.

The words hang in the air, and your breath catches. You look at him, confused, hurt—but he won’t meet your gaze. The woman gives a small, almost amused laugh before waving it off.

“Well, I won’t keep you,” she says with a teasing tone, her eyes lingering on Oscar for just a second too long. “Catch you later, Piastri.”

With that, she walks away, her footsteps light on the sand, leaving you standing there in stunned silence. The sound of the waves seems distant now, like you’re underwater, and the weight of what Oscar just said presses heavily on your chest.

Just a friend.

You force yourself to swallow the lump forming in your throat, pretending the words didn’t sting as much as they did. “Who was that?” you ask quietly, trying to keep your voice steady.

Oscar sighs, his hand dropping to his side. “No one important,” he says, though the tension in his voice betrays him. He turns to look at you, but there’s something distant in his eyes—something guarded that wasn’t there before.

You nod slowly, feeling a pang of disappointment settle deep in your chest. The connection you thought you were building suddenly feels fragile, like it could shatter at any moment.

For the rest of the walk along the beach, neither of you says much. The easy conversation, the subtle glances—all of it feels like it’s gone. Replaced by a silence that only grows heavier with each step.

You’re quiet when you get home, your heart heavy with the weight of everything that happened at the beach. You try to shake it off, but the look in Oscar’s eyes, the tension between him and Ellie—it’s all you can think about.

Your grandfather is in the sitting room when you walk in, his expression softening when he sees you.

“How was the date?” he asks, his voice gentle.

You open your mouth to respond, but the words get caught in your throat. You want to tell him it was fine, that everything’s okay—but you can’t lie. Not this time.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice trembling, “don’t force people to like me.”

Your grandfather’s face falls, his brow furrowing in concern. He reaches out to you, but you pull away, the tears already starting to form.

“I just… I don’t want to be an obligation,” you say, your voice breaking. “I want someone to like me because they want to—not because they feel like they have to.”

That night, after you’ve retreated to your room, your grandfather makes a call. He doesn’t tell you about it, doesn’t let on that he’s taken matters into his own hands. When Oscar picks up, he’s met with your grandfather’s firm voice.

“I’m sending the two of you to the ranch in Texas,” your grandfather says. “You’ll leave tomorrow.”

Oscar tries to protest, but your grandfather won’t hear it. “You’ll go,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You owe her that much.”

You sat in the plush leather seat of your grandfather’s private jet, the tension between you and Oscar thick and palpable. Neither of you had spoken much since the beach incident, and you weren’t sure how you felt about being sent off to Texas together. The thought of spending more time with him, especially after everything that had happened, made your stomach churn.

Oscar sat across from you, his eyes flickering up occasionally, as if he was gathering the courage to say something, but each time, the words seemed to die in his throat. You focused on the window instead, watching the runway lights blur as the plane took off.

“I know you’re upset,” Oscar finally said, breaking the silence, his voice quiet yet steady. “I want to explain, but I don’t think words are enough right now.”

You glanced at him, biting the inside of your cheek. Part of you wanted to hear him out, to understand why he had been so distant, but another part of you didn’t care anymore. The truth was, you felt used—like you were just another part of the game, just another person he didn’t really care about.

“I don’t want to hear it right now,” you said, shaking your head. “We’ll go on this trip, but when we get back to London, we tell my grandfather that it didn’t work out. And Oscar…” You hesitated, the weight of your next words crushing you. “Please don’t let anyone know that I was the other woman.”

Oscar’s face twisted, regret filling his expression. “I swear, I won’t say a word.”

You nodded, turning away from him. The rest of the flight passed in heavy silence.

When you arrived in Texas, the sprawling estate greeted you with its endless fields and the familiar scent of wildflowers. Despite the awkwardness between you and Oscar, the comfort of being home, away from the pressures of your world, settled over you. As soon as you were alone, you made your way to the garden.

The garden had always been your escape—a place where you could get lost in the rhythm of tending to the plants. As you knelt in the dirt, your fingers delicately brushing over the leaves of the roses, you found solace in the simplicity of the task. You weren’t sure how long you’d been there, but the sun was starting to dip low in the sky when you finally stood up, wiping your dirty hands on your jeans.

Unbeknownst to you, Oscar had been watching from a distance. He stayed near the old oak tree at the edge of the garden, watching as you moved gracefully through the rows of flowers, completely absorbed in your work. There was something peaceful about the way you lost yourself here—so different from the world of fast cars and expectations.

He leaned back against the tree, his mind racing. He wasn’t sure how he’d fix this—how he could make things right after everything he had done. Watching you, Oscar realized how much he had hurt you, and it wasn’t just the beach incident that weighed on him. It was everything—the emotional distance, the Ellie situation, the lies he had told himself.

But for now, he kept his distance, unsure of how to approach you or if you’d even want him to. You, lost in your world of flowers and dirt, were completely unaware of his gaze.

As the night crept in, you finally left the garden, retreating back inside the house. Oscar stayed behind, his thoughts heavy. For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t thinking about his career, his public image, or what other people wanted from him. He was thinking about you.

The morning sun was bright as you headed to the stables, hoping a horseback ride might clear your head. Despite still being upset with Oscar, you welcomed the chance to be alone in the fresh air.

As you prepared your horse, Oscar approached, looking out of place. He glanced around nervously and gave you a hesitant smile.

“Morning,” he said. “I thought I’d join you, if that’s okay.”

You barely glanced at him, focusing on securing your saddle. “Sure. If you think you’re up for it.”

Oscar tried to act composed, though his eyes darted nervously at the horses. He awkwardly mounted his steed with the help of a stable hand, gripping the reins as if they were a lifeline.

As you led the way onto the trail, your horse trotting confidently, Oscar’s horse lagged behind, its rider stiff and uncertain. You could hear him muttering to himself, trying to calm his nerves.

“So, what’s it like riding horses?” Oscar called out, his voice a bit too loud, trying to mask his fear.

“It’s not as bad as you think,” you replied curtly, keeping your distance both physically and emotionally. You weren’t in the mood for small talk, especially not with Oscar, given the recent tension.

The trail wound through picturesque fields, and as the minutes passed, Oscar’s discomfort was evident. His horse seemed to be enjoying itself a little too much, leading to a few unplanned jolts that made Oscar clutch the reins tightly.

At one point, his horse decided to trot faster, and Oscar’s face turned pale as he tried to control it. “I think it’s going to bolt!” he shouted, trying to sound calm but clearly panicking.

You slowed your horse, turning to watch with a mixture of amusement and sympathy. “Just breathe and let the horse do the work. It’s not going to run off.”

Oscar managed to regain some control, though he looked more like he was bracing for a bumpy ride than enjoying it. “Easy for you to say,” he replied, trying to laugh off his fear. “You make it look so effortless.”

You remained distant, nodding but not engaging further. “Just keep your hands steady and trust the horse.”

By the time you returned to the stables, Oscar dismounted with an audible sigh of relief. His face was flushed, but there was a small smile of accomplishment as he looked at you. “Thanks for letting me tag along. I guess it wasn’t as bad as I thought, but I think I’ll stick to less adventurous activities in the future.”

You gave a noncommittal nod, barely meeting his eyes. “You did alright. Maybe next time, we’ll try something less… unpredictable.”

Finally, the time came to return to London. The flight was quiet, each of you lost in your own thoughts. When you arrived back at your grandfather’s estate, you both faced him, sitting in his study.

“We talked,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “And we’ve decided that it’s best if we just remain friends.”

Your grandfather’s gaze shifted between you and Oscar, disappointment and concern etched on his face. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” you affirmed, nodding firmly. “It’s the best decision for both of us.”

Oscar added, “I appreciate everything your grandfather’s done for me, but I agree. We should just be friends.”

Your grandfather sighed, looking at Oscar with a mix of sympathy and understanding. “Very well. I’ll respect your decision.”

As you and Oscar left the study, you found yourself rushing toward your room, letting the tears fall freely down your cheeks.

You weren’t sure why you were crying, maybe it’s because you genuinely felt something with him or you thought you did.

Oscar Piastri was making you go crazy.

Beachy’s notes🐚: Mama is a lil rusty😞

[apollogeticx]

✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ DUMB & POETIC ♡·˚

— [♡] ; you sprouted love like flowers, growing a garden in your mind and watering the petals with every unshed tear. ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: hanahaki disease, fem!reader, fluff, slow burn, angst, hurt/comfort, emotional growth, vulnerable gojo satoru, recovered feelings, love after trauma, reconciliation, slow healing, happy ending, chapter four of four!

wc. 3.2K

↳ part 1 | part 2 | part 3

The beach house had settled into a rhythm. Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi had kept the energy alive with beach games, bad jokes, and playful arguments. Even you had begun to relax, finding moments of peace between the tension that still occasionally surfaced between you and Gojo. But for the most part, the trip was turning out to be just what you needed—a break from everything that had happened, a chance to breathe.

It wasn’t until the third day, when the sun was high in the sky and the others were down by the shore, that Gojo’s phone rang. He was lounging on the deck, sipping something cold, when the shrill sound of his ringtone broke the lazy quiet. He glanced at the screen, surprised to see Shoko’s name flash across it.

He raised an eyebrow but answered, casually leaning back in his chair. “Hey, Shoko. What’s up?”

“What’s up?” Shoko’s voice came through sharp and annoyed, a tone Gojo didn’t often hear from her. “Are you out of your mind, Gojo?”

Gojo blinked, sitting up straighter at the edge in her voice. “What’s this about?”

There was a pause on the other end, and then Shoko sighed, her frustration palpable even through the phone. “You know what this is about. You dragged them— her —to your beach house? For spring break?”

Gojo frowned, confused. “Yeah, we needed a break. So what?”

“So what? Gojo, are you seriously that oblivious?” Shoko snapped. “Or are you really trying to make her fall in love with you all over again?”

Gojo froze, the words hitting him like a bucket of cold water. “What? No! That’s not—” He trailed off, suddenly unsure. Was that what he was doing? Was that why he’d invited everyone here? Why he’d made sure you came along?

Shoko’s silence on the other end was damning. She let out a frustrated huff before continuing. “Gojo, you might be the strongest sorcerer in the world, but when it comes to this, you’re clueless. Do you even realize what you’re doing? You’re putting her in the same position she was in before the surgery.”

Gojo stood up, moving to the edge of the deck, his hand running through his hair. “That’s not what I’m trying to do,” he insisted, though even as he said it, doubt began creeping in. “I just… I wanted to figure things out. With her. With all of this.”

“Figure things out?” Shoko’s voice was laced with disbelief. “You don’t get it, do you? She almost died because of how deeply she loved you. And now, after all that, you’re bringing her here, spending time with her like this… What do you think is going to happen, Gojo? She’ll just magically fall in love with you again? And this time it’ll be fine because you’re paying attention?”

Gojo clenched his jaw, the weight of her words hitting him harder than he expected. He hadn’t thought about it that way. He hadn’t been trying to manipulate anything—he hadn’t meant for this trip to turn into some kind of emotional trap. But now, hearing Shoko lay it out so plainly, he couldn’t ignore the truth.

Was that what he was doing? Trying to pull you back into his orbit, hoping that maybe—just maybe—you’d fall for him again? He hadn’t even realized it, but now that Shoko had said it out loud, it was impossible to ignore.

“I didn’t…” He trailed off, his voice quieter now. “I didn’t think of it like that.”

“No, you didn’t,” Shoko said, her voice softer but still firm. “You’ve never been good at thinking about the emotional fallout, Gojo. And I get it—you’re used to being able to fix things with power or clever words. But this isn’t something you can just fix by inviting her to a beach house.”

Gojo leaned against the railing, staring out at the ocean, his mind racing. He hadn’t meant for this to happen, hadn’t realized how deeply he was still entangled in everything that had happened between the two of you. But now, with Shoko’s words ringing in his ears, he couldn’t deny the truth. Somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, he had started wanting you to love him again.

He didn’t even know when it had started—maybe it was when he had seen you for the first time after the surgery, standing there with the weight of your love for him gone. Or maybe it was when you had told him, with fear in your voice, that you were afraid of falling for him again. Either way, it was there now, lingering in the back of his mind, in every look, every word.

Shoko’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Look, Gojo… I know you care about her. But you need to be careful. If you really want to help her, if you really care about her, you need to stop thinking about what you want and start thinking about what’s best for her.”

Gojo let out a slow breath, his grip tightening on the railing. “I didn’t… I wasn’t trying to hurt her, Shoko.”

“I know you weren’t,” Shoko replied, her tone softer now. “But just be honest with yourself, Gojo. Are you really ready to face what happens if she does love you again? Or are you going to make the same mistake and push her away when things get complicated?”

Gojo didn’t answer right away, his mind spinning with everything Shoko had said. He hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. But now, standing here, he realized that maybe—just maybe—he had been hoping for something. Something he hadn’t even been able to admit to himself until now.

“I’ll figure it out,” he said finally, his voice quieter, more serious than before. “I don’t want to hurt her again.”

“Good,” Shoko replied, her voice gentle but firm. “Because if you do, Gojo… this time, it might be too late to fix.”

They said their goodbyes, but Gojo didn’t move from his spot on the deck. The weight of Shoko’s words hung heavy over him, and for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure what to do.

He wasn’t used to this—feeling unsure, feeling vulnerable. He wasn’t used to caring this much about someone. But when it came to you, everything felt different. Messy. Complicated. And now, standing here in the soft light of the evening, he couldn’t help but wonder: What was this? What was he doing?

And more importantly: What did he want?

Because whether he liked it or not, Shoko was right. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to make the same mistake all over again.

And this time, there wouldn’t be a second chance.

Gojo stood there, the ocean stretching endlessly before him, but his mind was elsewhere—caught in the tangled mess of emotions and half-formed thoughts that had been brewing since the moment Shoko’s words hit him. He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to questioning himself, to feeling so unsure about what he wanted or what to do next. But now, he couldn’t avoid it.

What do you want, Gojo?

That question had been lingering in the back of his mind for days, ever since this whole beach trip started. He had thought, at first, that it was about giving you a break, giving all of you some time away to reset. But if he was being honest with himself—and maybe for the first time, he really was—this trip had never just been about a vacation. It had been an excuse. An excuse to be near you, to figure out what this thing between you two was. He had wanted to get closer, to understand why you still lingered in his mind, even after the surgery had erased the love you once felt for him.

But now, after Shoko’s call, after that blunt, almost painful clarity she had given him, he couldn’t pretend anymore. It wasn’t about curiosity. It wasn’t about guilt or responsibility, either.

He cared about you. Not just as a student, not just because of what had happened. It was something more. Something deeper that he hadn’t realized until now, until the idea of you falling for him again was no longer a distant possibility but something that could happen. Something that he wanted to happen.

Gojo exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair as he watched the waves roll in, his thoughts swirling like the tide. He had never been one to care about these kinds of things. Feelings, relationships, love—it had always seemed messy, complicated, something he wasn’t built for. He was Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer alive, someone who lived on the edge of power and responsibility, always just a step removed from everyone else.

But with you… it felt different. He wasn’t standing on the edge anymore, wasn’t watching from afar. He was right in the middle of it, tangled up in something that he couldn’t just ignore or brush off.

Shoko had been right. If you fell in love with him again—and he knew it was possible, even probable—it would be different this time. Because now, it wasn’t just about your feelings. It was about his.

He hadn’t noticed it before. He hadn’t wanted to. But now, with the question staring him in the face, he couldn’t deny it anymore.

Gojo wanted you.

Not in the simple, surface-level way that he sometimes joked about with others. This wasn’t about charm or attraction, or the way he could so easily draw people in with his confidence and smile. This was deeper. He wanted you in his life, in a way that felt grounding, like maybe for the first time, he wasn’t floating above everything but was anchored to something real.

He wanted to be there, for you and with you—not just as your teacher or some distant figure in the background, but as someone who mattered. Someone who could be a part of your life, not just someone you admired from afar.

And if you fell in love with him again?

He wasn’t going to push you away this time. He wasn’t going to let fear or uncertainty stop him from trying. Because now, he understood that he had been waiting for something like this—for someone like you. Someone who made him feel… human, in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

Gojo smiled softly to himself, feeling the weight of his decision settle over him. It wasn’t a grand revelation or some huge, life-altering moment. It was quiet. Simple. But it was real.

He wanted you. And for the first time in his life, Gojo wasn’t afraid of what that meant.

The rest of the evening passed quietly. Yuji and Nobara had managed to drag Megumi back to the house, exhausted from the day’s activities, and the house was filled with the usual banter and noise that came from having them around. You had retreated to the kitchen, helping yourself to a glass of water, when you felt his presence behind you.

“Hey,” Gojo’s voice was light, but there was something different in his tone—something more grounded, more focused.

You turned to face him, surprised to find him standing closer than you expected, his usual easy grin absent, replaced by a more serious expression. His eyes, usually hidden behind his blindfold, were uncovered, bright and intense as they met yours.

“Hi,” you replied, suddenly feeling nervous, like there was something unspoken hanging in the air between you.

Gojo leaned against the counter, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice softer than usual, almost tentative. “About everything. About us.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the word us, and you swallowed hard, unsure of where this conversation was going. “What about us?”

Gojo was quiet for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. “I know things have been complicated,” he began slowly. “And I know I haven’t exactly been great at… dealing with all of this. But I want to be honest with you.”

You stared at him, your pulse quickening. “Honest about what?”

He took a deep breath, his gaze softening as he spoke. “About what I want. About what’s been going on in my head since all of this started. And the truth is… I want you around. Not just as one of my students, but… more than that.”

You blinked, his words sinking in slowly. Your heart was racing, and you could barely breathe. “More than that?”

Gojo smiled, a small, genuine smile. “Yeah. I’ve realized that… I don’t want to push you away. I don’t want to pretend like none of this matters. It does. You matter. And I want to figure it out—whatever this is, whatever it could be—together.”

You stared at him, your mind reeling. Gojo—Satoru Gojo—was standing in front of you, telling you that he wanted you, that he wanted to figure out whatever was between you. The fear that had been gnawing at you since the surgery, the uncertainty of what would happen if you let yourself care for him again, all of it seemed to melt away in the face of his quiet sincerity.

For the first time since everything had changed, you felt something new. Something fragile, but real.

Hope.

You took a deep breath, meeting his gaze. “What if I fall for you again?” you asked, your voice trembling but steady.

Gojo stepped closer, his smile widening, his eyes soft but full of that familiar spark. “Then it’s all good.”

And for the first time in a long time, you weren’t afraid of what came next.

A few months had passed since that conversation at the beach house, and everything had settled into something new—something real. The fear, the uncertainty that had once weighed heavily between you and Gojo, had slowly faded, replaced by something more stable, more grounded. Life had moved forward, but now, it did so with a quiet ease that you hadn’t expected.

Your relationship with Gojo had evolved, and though it hadn’t been without its bumps and awkward moments, it had become something solid. It wasn’t rushed or dramatic, like you might have once imagined. There were no grand declarations of love, no sweeping romantic gestures. Instead, it was quiet and slow, built on the foundation of friendship, trust, and mutual understanding.

It felt like you had both found your footing, like you were learning how to be in each other’s lives without the fear of repeating the mistakes of the past.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and the weather was warm, the sun shining down as you and Gojo walked through the school grounds. Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi were off training somewhere, and the two of you had decided to take advantage of the quiet. Gojo had a bag of snacks slung over his shoulder, and you had your hands tucked into your pockets, enjoying the comfortable silence between you.

“What’s the plan for today, sensei?” you asked, giving him a teasing smile. It had become a running joke between you—calling him "sensei" even though the dynamic between you had changed so much over the past few months.

Gojo grinned, his usual playful energy still very much intact. “Oh, you know, the usual. Thought we could go somewhere quiet and you watch me be awesome.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips. “You mean watch you eat snacks and avoid responsibility?”

“Exactly,” Gojo said with a wink, falling into step beside you. “See, you’re catching on.”

The banter between you had always been there, but now it was different. There was a lightness to it that hadn’t existed before. You weren’t constantly second-guessing yourself, wondering if Gojo was thinking about the past or the surgery or the complicated feelings that had once consumed both of you. Now, things just… were.

You weren’t in a rush to define the relationship, to label it. The love you had once felt for him had changed—it wasn’t the same overwhelming, suffocating force that had bloomed inside of you like the flowers that had nearly killed you. Instead, it had grown into something healthier, something that didn’t demand all of you but existed alongside you.

And Gojo? He had changed, too. He wasn’t the same distant, untouchable figure he had once been. He still had that easy confidence, that charm that made everyone around him smile, but there was something softer about him now—something more vulnerable. He had let you in, and though it hadn’t been easy for him, he hadn’t pulled away. He hadn’t run.

You found a quiet spot under a tree near the edge of the training grounds, and Gojo flopped down onto the grass, pulling a snack out of his bag with a dramatic flourish. You sat beside him, leaning back against the tree and closing your eyes for a moment, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your face.

“So,” Gojo said after a while, his tone more serious than usual. “How’s it going? You know… with everything.”

You opened your eyes, glancing over at him. It wasn’t like Gojo to ask questions like that—he wasn’t one for deep conversations unless they happened naturally, but when he did ask, you knew it mattered.

“It’s going,” you replied honestly, offering him a small smile. “Better than I expected.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly interested. “Better how?”

You sighed, resting your head back against the tree as you thought about your answer. “I’m not afraid anymore. Of being around you. Of falling for you again.” You turned your head to look at him, and his expression softened. “And I think… I already did.”

Gojo didn’t flinch. He didn’t tense up or act surprised. Instead, he smiled, his gaze warm as he looked at you. “I know.”

It wasn’t a grand moment, but it didn’t need to be. You had fallen for him again, slowly, gradually, and this time it felt right. It felt safe. It wasn’t the kind of love that demanded too much or threatened to swallow you whole. It was something that grew between you, steady and unforced.

And Gojo? He was right there with you.

You hadn’t talked much about what your relationship was in specific terms. You didn’t need to. What mattered was that you were both here, both willing to figure it out together. There was no rush, no urgency. Just… time. Time to grow, to understand each other, to learn how to love in a way that wasn’t destructive.

Gojo reached out, his fingers brushing against yours as he gave you that easy, lopsided grin you had come to know so well. “I’m not going anywhere, you know,” he said softly. “No matter what happens. We’ll figure it out.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his words settle over you. “I know.”

The two of you sat there for a while longer, the sound of the breeze rustling the leaves overhead and the distant laughter of the others in the background. It was peaceful, quiet, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could breathe—like you had found something worth holding onto, not because you needed it to survive, but because it made life better.

And that was enough.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the grass, Gojo shifted beside you, his gaze thoughtful. “You know, we never did figure out what this is,” he said, gesturing between the two of you with a lazy wave of his hand. “Maybe we should give it a name.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Does it need a name?”

He grinned, leaning back on his elbows and looking up at the sky. “Nah. I guess not.”

And in that moment, you realized that it didn’t matter what you called it. What mattered was that you were here, together, and that the love between you—whatever form it took—was real.

And that was more than enough.

notes: now everyone says "thank you shoko ieiri"! writing this was so much fun, thank you so much!

tag list: @lily-of-my-dreams @sunnyx07 @3zae-zae3 @sashisuslover @kingshitonly @bvuckleybby @laviefantasie @r0ckst4rjk @minkyungseokie @tw0fvced @f1sheeee @laviefantasie @f1sheeee @spindyl @itsjustnikkixoxo @springsoltice

©apollogeticx ⋆ all rights reserved.

[callmedaleelah]

— Pinnacle [ tsukishima kei university au series ]

— look at this idiotic fool that you made me ; cherish every seconds you have cause you never know when it’ll turn upside down

author’s notes : no mention of (y/n), written in second person pov, semi alternative universe, timeskip!tsukishima, college life, not proofread, english is not my first language

[ masterlist ] | [ ask daleelah go to box box 🐭 ]

The night stretches long and silent, cloaking your room in a stillness that feels both comforting and stifling. You've been lying there for hours, staring at the white ceiling, tracing invisible patterns with your eyes, trying to will yourself to sleep. But the quiet isn't enough to lull you into rest. Your thoughts keep drifting back to the dinner, the awkward exchanges, the warmth in Tsukishima's gaze that you can't seem to shake.

You roll over in bed, pulling your blanket tighter around your shoulders, your pink pajamas soft against your skin, but they offer no comfort tonight. The room feels empty now that your parents are gone, their voices and presence lingering only in your memory. It’s strange, this quiet solitude—something you used to cherish before all these new feelings started creeping into your heart.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, the bright screen cutting through the darkness. You grab it, blinking to adjust your eyes, and frown when you see the name on the screen.

Tsukishima ; You still up?

Your heart skips a beat, confusion mingling with curiosity. It’s late—much too late for him to be messaging you, especially after saying goodbye to your parents just hours ago. Without thinking, your fingers move swiftly across the screen.

Yeah, why?

His reply comes almost instantly, making your pulse quicken: I’m outside the building. Can you meet me here?

You sit up abruptly, the blanket pooling around your waist as your mind tries to process what he just said. Outside? At this hour? You rub your eyes and glance at the clock—it’s almost midnight. What could he possibly want? For a second, you consider ignoring it, but curiosity gets the better of you.

Throwing the blanket off, you slip your feet into your slippers and grab your student ID before rushing out of your room, your footsteps muffled by the carpeted hallway. The dormitory feels eerily quiet, the soft hum of the heating system the only sound accompanying you as you reach the entrance. The cold air hits you the moment you step outside, and you shiver, cursing yourself for not grabbing a jacket.

Then you see him. Tsukishima, standing just outside the entrance, bathed in the dim glow of the streetlights. He’s wearing his usual hoodie, hands buried deep in his pockets, his head tilted slightly as he waits for you. His tall frame is relaxed, yet there’s an intensity in the way he looks at you that makes your breath catch in your throat.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, your voice a little breathless from both the cold and the sudden rush of adrenaline. You cross your arms over your chest, trying to retain some warmth.

Tsukishima’s eyes scan you from head to toe, lingering for a second on your pajamas before meeting your gaze. “It’s cold out here,” he says simply, his voice steady, but there’s an undertone you can’t quite place.

You blink, confused. “Yeah, I know. It’s almost midnight. Why—?”

“And yet you didn’t wear a hoodie before heading out?” He cuts you off, his eyes narrowing slightly as if your lack of common sense is somehow personal to him.

Your mouth opens and closes, flustered by his bluntness. “I—I didn’t think I’d need one. I didn’t plan on staying outside long,” you mumble, suddenly feeling exposed under his sharp gaze.

Tsukishima sighs, the sound filled with mild exasperation, but before you can protest, he’s already unzipping his hoodie. The fabric rustles softly in the quiet night as he drapes it over your shoulders, his hands brushing against your arms as he adjusts it on you. The warmth from his hoodie seeps into your skin, and you’re enveloped in the faint scent of him—clean, slightly musky, with a hint of something fresh and familiar.

You stand there, frozen, as Tsukishima takes it a step further and zips up the hoodie for you, his fingers lingering on the zipper for a beat too long before he steps back. His silence feels like a command, one you don’t dare disobey.

He doesn't say anything, but the way his eyes linger on you makes your heart race. It’s as if he’s silently telling you to wear it—no arguments. You swallow, nodding slightly, unsure of how to respond.

“Come on.” His voice is softer now, as he reaches for your hand, the warmth of his palm sending a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold. He tugs you gently, guiding you toward his car parked a few feet away.

You follow, too stunned to speak, your mind still reeling from the sudden shift in his demeanor. The wind whips through the open space, biting at your cheeks and making your hair whip around your face. Tsukishima, always composed, doesn’t flinch from the cold, his steps measured and steady as he opens the passenger door for you.

You hesitate for a second, looking at him with wide eyes, but he merely raises an eyebrow, silently urging you to get in. You comply, sliding into the seat as he shuts the door behind you with a quiet click. The interior of his car is warm, a stark contrast to the frigid air outside. You watch as he walks around to the back seat, retrieving something before climbing into the driver’s seat beside you.

When he sits down, there’s a small bakery box in his hands. You tilt your head, confused again, until he opens it to reveal two chocolate muffins, each with a small candle sticking out of the top.

Your mouth drops open slightly. “What…?”

“You didn’t get to eat your cake at dinner,” he explains, his voice casual as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a lighter. “So I brought you something.”

You stare at the muffins, your chest tightening with a mixture of surprise and something else you can’t quite name. “You…did this for me?”

He lights the candles one by one, the soft glow illuminating his face as he nods. “Your mom isn’t around, so you can eat this without her knowing, right?”

His words make you laugh, a light, breathless sound that escapes before you can stop it. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them away quickly, smiling at him through the soft haze of candlelight.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you whisper, your voice catching in your throat as the weight of his gesture sinks in.

Tsukishima shrugs, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. “Make a wish.”

You stare at him for a moment, your heart swelling with gratitude and something deeper, something you’re not quite ready to name. Then, closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and make a wish, blowing out the candles as the soft flames flicker and die.

When you open your eyes, Tsukishima is watching you, his expression unreadable, but there’s a softness in his gaze that makes your chest tighten all over again. And in that quiet, intimate moment, surrounded by the warmth of his hoodie and the dim glow of the candles, you realize something: you’re no longer alone in the dark.

The warm glow from the streetlamp outside cast a gentle light into the car, highlighting the small, cozy space you shared with Tsukishima. You reached into the box with a soft smile, pulling out the first muffin and holding it toward him.

“Here’s the first one for you,” you teased lightly, eyes sparkling. “You get to eat first ‘cause you’re special.”

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a teasing smirk. “I do?” He placed a hand over his chest dramatically. “Well, thank you, I’m honored.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his playful response. That sweet laugh—the one that always escaped when you felt at ease, when it was just the two of you. You took a bite of your muffin, the flavor melting in your mouth. “Oh wow, this is so good. Where did you get these?”

Tsukishima hummed in acknowledgment, swallowing his bite before answering. “You won’t be able to get these again,” he began, his tone casual but hinting at something more thoughtful, “I found a random cake shop still open late—“

“All for me?” You interrupted him, grinning cheekily as you leaned in a little closer, the air between you becoming more playful, yet intimate.

Tsukishima sighed softly, shaking his head with a small smile. “Yeah… all for you.”

The silence that followed was comfortable, the kind of silence that felt like a warm blanket draped over the two of you. As you ate your muffins, you exchanged small, shy glances, and each look seemed to speak louder than words could. There was something special in the air tonight—something you both felt but weren’t quite ready to address.

Just as you were about to take another bite, Tsukishima’s voice dropped to a low whisper, catching you by surprise. “Have I told you this before?” he began, his gaze softening as he looked at you, “you have a really beautiful smile.”

You froze, your heart skipping a beat as his words hung in the air. His eyes held a sincerity that made your chest tighten. You blinked, feeling your cheeks flush. “No, you haven’t… but thanks,” you replied shyly, your fingers nervously playing with the muffin wrapper. “You… you have a really nice smile too,” you added, your voice barely audible as you glanced at him bashfully.

Without realizing it, the space between you had slowly diminished. His presence felt closer, warmer, as if the barrier that had always been there had quietly melted away. You couldn’t help but admire the way his glasses framed his face, how his soft eyelashes cast delicate shadows across his skin. His nose scrunched slightly, his brow furrowed in that usual way when he was concentrating, yet somehow, you’d never noticed before how undeniably handsome he was.

Before you could fully process your thoughts, Tsukishima’s hand gently reached out. His fingers brushed a strand of hair behind your ear with a tenderness that made your heart race. The pad of his thumb softly caressed your cheek, and your breath caught in your throat at the sudden contact.

“Happy birthday,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath but carrying so much warmth, so much meaning.

Your lips curled into a soft smile as you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a brief moment, savoring the simple happiness that bubbled in your chest. You had never felt this kind of joy before, a joy that was soft and warm, that made you feel completely seen—like you mattered in ways you hadn’t realized until this very moment.

Then, Tsukishima handed you another small box. You blinked, confused at first, before your curiosity took over. “What’s this?” you asked, a mix of excitement and surprise coloring your voice.

He gave you a lopsided grin. “Your present—obviously,” he said with his usual teasing edge, though there was a softness to his tone now, an almost shy undertone.

You opened the box, and inside was a delicate bracelet. Its design was simple yet elegant, a perfect reflection of your style. You gasped, eyes widening as you stared at it, then back at him. “No way, seriously?” You covered your mouth with your hand in disbelief, your heart swelling with joy.

Tsukishima chuckled softly, his fingers gently taking the bracelet from the box as he clasped it around your wrist. His touch was light, but the simple action sent a jolt of warmth through you. “Do you like it?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

“I love it!” you exclaimed, your excitement overflowing as you reached out and squeezed his hand without thinking. “Thank you so much.”

He didn’t say anything, just smiled—a rare, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. And in that moment, your gaze locked with his, and the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. The silence between you was no longer awkward or empty—it was filled with something unspoken but deeply understood.

Your fingers, almost on their own, intertwined with his. You squeezed his hand gently, feeling the nervous energy building inside you, but it wasn’t the kind of nervousness that made you uneasy. It was the kind that made you feel alive, like something important was about to happen.

You opened your mouth, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “I like you,” you whispered, the confession hanging in the air between you. Your voice trembled slightly as you continued, feeling your heart pound against your chest. “I don’t know when it started, but… you always make me feel seen. I… I really like you, Tsukishima. I can’t stop thinking about you, and sometimes I feel like my heart’s going to burst because it’s all just too much. I—”

You stopped abruptly, noticing the subtle shift in his expression. His teasing smile had vanished, replaced by something unreadable. Slowly, he pulled away from you, retreating back into his seat, his gaze now fixed on the windshield. The warmth that had filled the car moments ago suddenly felt cold, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Your heart dropped, and you blinked rapidly to push away the sting of tears. “I… I’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t have said that. You don’t have to say anything. I—”

You swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. The awkwardness hung thick in the air, suffocating your chest. You glanced at him, hoping for any response, but Tsukishima remained silent, staring out of the window.

Feeling a sharp pang of rejection, you hastily removed his hoodie, folding it neatly before opening the car door. “Thanks for tonight,” you murmured, your voice wavering. “I—really appreciated it.”

Before he could respond, you stepped out of the car and shut the door, your legs carrying you swiftly back to the dorm. Tears blurred your vision as you reached the building, your heart aching with every step.

By the time you reached your room, your heart felt heavy, and the thoughts spiraled in your mind. You threw yourself onto the bed, burying your face in the pillow.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you muttered to yourself, replaying the events of the night over and over again. All this time, you thought you had seen something in his actions—the compliments, the gentle moments, the way he seemed to go out of his way to help you. But now… you weren’t so sure.

Was it all in your head? Was Tsukishima just being kind, and you had misread the signs? You weren’t sure of anything anymore, except for one thing: your heart ached with every beat.

The dorm room felt colder than usual as you curled into a tight ball on your bed, hugging your knees close to your chest. The bracelet on your wrist shimmered faintly under the low light of your lamp, reminding you of the bittersweet memory that had unfolded just moments ago. Your confession replayed in your mind—over and over again—each repetition twisting your heart a little tighter.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push away the embarrassment that bubbled up inside you. Tsukishima’s silence, his sudden retreat, it all played like a bad dream. And now, you weren’t even sure if you could face him again.

Burying your face into the pillow, you let out a frustrated groan, “Why did I say that? Why now?”

But no matter how many times you questioned it, the truth remained: you liked him. There was no denying it anymore, no pretending that your feelings weren’t there. They were real, and they had spilled out of you like water breaking through a dam.

Maybe you should’ve waited. Maybe you should’ve held back a little longer, but then, how much longer could you have gone pretending that your heart didn’t skip a beat every time he smiled at you?

tagslist (free to mention) ; @theweirdfloatything @snowthatareblack @ilovemymomscooking @nayiiryun @knightofmidnight @kozumesphone @scxrcherr @thechaosoflonging @monya-febrjack

[yandere-yearnings]

*zombie noise* uuurghhhh.. Titties.. Man titties.. My sickness can only be cured if I am able to suck on some man titties 🧟‍♀️

AUUUGgGgGg My aching hands can only be remedied with a dose of squeezing chesticles various times a day 💀💀

nonnie the way i got war flashbacks reading the word chesticles😭💔 i believe this was in reference to this ask so today it's sun's turn to be reduced to an absolute mess🥰 i'm sorry this took so long to get to btw and also that the writing is largely shit, dar has not been vv good at this lately😔

NSFW under the cut!

“You’re being forward,” Sun laughed, bright-eyed, “hard day?”

“Very.” You stressed, leaning into him, finding solace in the softness of his shirt. His calves brushed against your lower back, drawing you between his thighs.

Sun's hands flicked up, fingers pressing to your scalp and massaging gently. Tenderly, to the shell of your ear, he hummed, “anything I can do to make it better?” 

Blinking at his innocent question, you couldn’t help but grin. Your arms stretched to either side of him, caging him all the more across the counter he was sitting on. “I can think of a few,” you whispered, revelling in the little exhale you received in response, “namely…”

“Y/N.”

“These.” You groped his chest with a happy tilt to your head. “They’re there for a reason, right?”

Sun groaned, curling into you to hide his obvious blush. “Not for you to… play with…”

“Why not?” you teased, feeling your neck heat from where he rested against it. “You didn’t have a problem with it last night. You begged me to touch them more actually, don't you remember? Crying so prettily, saying-”

“That’s enough!” He covered your mouth, pushing you slightly with a shaky grip on your shoulder. Red-faced and refusing to meet your gaze, Sun was the perfect picture of adorable. “If it’ll make you feel better, you know-” he paused, getting quieter, “you know I’m yours so… do whatever. Please, just stop embarrassing me.”

“Me? Embarrassing you?” You gasped, ever playful and swooping in to nip his cheek. “I would never.”

“Y/N,” Sun said again, this time whining, “you’re literally doing it right now!” He swatted at you lightly, but your energy was not lost on him, not in the giggle that preceded your pinning him down.

“Well, hello there,” you mumbled, attention completely focused on the expanse of skin exposed to you now that his top had ridden up.

Sun kicked you, half-hearted. “Don’t talk to it.”

“Sorry.” The both of you knew you weren’t sorry at all. Your thumb had already found its home, kissing into the flesh layered above his sternum, tracing the shadows cast.

Sun arched into it, and suddenly, every move you made became weighted.

Muscle beneath fat, driving your digits in until there was no more give, clawing, kneading, feeling his pulse soar — kisses trapped within his ribs that you knew his heart desperately wanted to send your way. How could you call yourself his lover if you didn’t reciprocate?

Saliva dripped, and your tongue followed, laving into cushioned tissue. You could get addicted to the taste of him, to the gasp and coil that brought you even closer. “Does it feel good, baby?” you mouthed around his nipple, relishing in his shiver.

“Good, so good,” Sun whined, breathless, writhing. “Don’t stop.”

“Who’s being forward now?” your teeth sank in, nothing akin to a light bite. “You can’t be giving me mixed signals like this Sun, you were so shy earlier…”

“Sorry,” he cried, “I’m sorry. I’ll be good for you. Please.”

Tears on his lashline when you pulled away. Your palms squeezed his pecs, let the pressure run down his entire body when they trailed to grasp his hips. Sun bit his lips to muffle his sounds, and you undid them with your own. “Tell me then,” you coaxed, “what do you want?”

“Bed.”

“Okay.” You caressed his face, and his turning to nuzzle into it was all you needed to forget about the stress you’d been feeling prior. "Bed," you repeated. "Bed sounds good.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You clean your leg again. The wound looks and feels little better than the night before. The pulsing ripple of pain is a constant reminder, not that you can get that man out of your mind. Or your life. 

You get ready for work numbly. You’re just going through the motions. You don’t know what else you can do. 

Colin never returned your call. None of them. The window is broken. You don’t care. The window doesn’t matter. Breaking glass is far from the worst thing this man can do. 

You get on the bus wearily. You sit at the front. Each stop, you look up, expecting the man. Some teens, then a man with a walker. You tense up each time the breaks squeal. He’s taunting you again, without even being there. 

When your stop comes up, you get off and stand at the stop a few minutes, searching. You don’t if it’s better to see him coming... 

You cross the lot and enter the mall. You stop at the coffee shop and get a latte. It won’t help but the warmth might help whittle away at your rigid muscles. You go to the tea shop. This time, it’s Jeremy at the counter. 

“Hey, sup?” He asks as he put out the sample pitcher of fruit punch iced tea. 

“Nothing,” you answer, eye dart to the mall corridor and back to the counter. 

“Oh? Security was asking about you this morning.” 

“Um... what?” You turn to him, “they were?” 

“Yeah, something about a report last night. Said they were following-up. Something happen?” 

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so concerned with anything. Not more than his phone. You shake your head. 

“Just... a suspicious customer,” you shrug. 

What’s the point in saying anything? You doubt his reaction will be any different than the police. Or that he could do anything more than offer empty platitudes. It’ll be okay. I’m sure the guy will get tired and leave you alone. 

No, he won’t. 

The look in his eye as he latched on and tore out your hair assured you of that. You can feel his grip, how strong he was, and you remember the way malice roiled off of him. He’s not just a man, he’s a monster. 

“Hm, no surprise there,” Jeremy snorts. “Halloween collections coming tomorrow. This place is going to get stupid.” 

“Of course,” you mutter without much thought. 

You stare over the counter into the bright mall. Waiting. Watching. He wouldn’t do anything now. Now with Jeremy right there. 

He would. He could. Last night on the bus, there were a dozen other passengers who didn’t give a shit about what he did. You put your hands on your head, gripping your skull as if it’s splitting in half. You show your teeth and whine. 

“Woah, everything okay?” Jeremy moves towards you and you wince away from him. 

“No! It’s not okay,” you spin and hurry into the back room. You grab your bag and your jacket and veer back out. 

“Hey, where are you going?” He shouts as you race around the counter. 

You don’t answer. You don’t have one. You just can’t stand still and wait for this man to show up again. 

You charge through the mall and to the exit opposite the one you usually come in. You stop just outside, right before the tarmac and heave. What are you doing? Where are you going? Home isn’t safe. There’s nowhere else to go. 

Your sister stopped talking to you when you called her boyfriend a deadbeat. Your parents took her side, like they always do, and the rest of your family doesn’t give a shit. Even if anyone did answer your call, they’d call you dramatic, or a liar. The latter is more likely. 

The police didn’t listen either. Your landlord won’t fix your window or replace the chain, he won’t even bother to check his voicemail. So, what now? 

You look around and your eyes snag on a dark figure. It’s him. Just beside one of the light poles. He stands unmoving, as motionless as the metal next to him. You trip backwards and twirl, bursting back into the mall. 

You sprint through the corridors, ignoring the patrons as they send you looks, swerving and weaving around them. You turn and come out on the east side of the mall. You slow to catch your breath halfway across the lot. 

What do you do? That stupid question has no goddamn answer. What are you doing? That one’s just as pointless. 

You get to the patch of grass and climb up onto the sidewalk. You turn south and walk without seeing. Cars blow by on the street as you grip the straps of your knapsack. You just walk. No where in particular. 

You cross and continue down the next block, and the one after that, and the one after that. When you’re dizzy and tired, you find a bench and sit. You bend forward and cradle your head. Your lungs burn, your legs too. Your head pounds from fatigue. 

You just sit there. When you sense gentle brush next to you, weigh creaking on the slats of the bench, you don’t look. You already know. It doesn’t matter how he found you. The inevitability was a given. 

Silent, still, you languish.  

You flinch only as he wraps his hand around your wrist and forces your hand away from your head. You sit up and he stands. He tugs you with him. You sway on your feet and he strides forward. You stumble along with him. Not a word, not a glance in your direction. 

He just marches on and you have no choice but to go with him. 

[madbard]

Headcanon that Dust absolutely resents how much he resembles Classic. There are elements of this back in Dusttale, with how Dust prefers to hide his face and identity while building his LV, but this is more out of practicality (and even shame) than anything else. He doesn’t want his victims to recognize him because it’ll make it harder for him to sneak up on people, and a part of him really doesn’t want them to know that he was the one who killed him. The longer this goes on, the more his disguise transforms from a way of hiding his shame to a way of distancing himself from who he used to be. Sans would never kill all those people, but he isn’t Sans anymore. He’s not really a person anymore, he is the act of murder itself. He is Dust.

I think this would get way worse when Dust leaves his AU and enters the multiverse though, because right off the bat he encounters murderers, just like him… who don’t look innocent. Horror, Killer and even Cross are set completely apart from who they used to be. They are scarred and twisted and nightmarish. Looking at them doesn’t trigger memories of a happier, innocent past. They have renamed themselves, taken on a new identity - but for them, this change was physical as well. No one will ever mistake them for Sans.

So Dust wears his hood. He hides his face. He keeps his magic burning constantly, because if he stops his eyes will darken and there will be nothing setting him apart from the monster who died, years ago, the first time a knife ripped through his chest. The others realize it, too… Horror probably wouldn’t care either way. Cross would understand the desire to distance oneself from an old identity, but would ultimately be in a similar boat as Horror. Killer would bring this up to taunt Dust once he realized it bothered him - and would quickly get bored with it. Ultimately, the others would just accept Dust’s refusal to show his face, his hatred of his own voice and reflection, as part of who he is.

I like to imagine that one day, the gang get into a serious combat. It’s vicious and close; both sides are bloody and exhausted by the time it’s over. If one side wins, it’s by a hair, and not much of a victory. In the dazed silence following the battle, Nightmare slowly assesses each of his acolytes, ensuring that they are still alive and intact. When he reaches Dust, he pauses. The assassin is bloodied, slumped over. His HP is steady but low; he’s taken a lot of hits - more than most monsters would have been able to survive. His hand vanishes beneath his hood, carefully inspecting his face. That night, back at the castle, Dust steps in front of a mirror. He takes a deep breath and, for the first time in years, removes his hood to look his reflection in the eye. The combat left deep wounds across his face, injuries that would never heal completely, that would leave him permanently scarred.

Dust looks at his battered reflection and smiles.

[shmpxx]

HIS TRUE COLORS — h.y

⛤ hiori yo x fem! reader

Unlike everyone else you’re not fond of Hiori yo, you have an instinct he has another side of him.

cw. smut. unprotected sex. creampie. sadism. dacryphilia. praising. biting + marking. cervix kissing. nipple play. false innocence. aftercare. masochist! reader. sadist! hiori. +18!

wc: 1.3k

a/n: I’m still here guys, don’t worry!

Something about hiori yo, you ultimately disliked. There was no way he was this “nice” guy that absolutely everyone adored even your friends, you know that theres another side to him that you simply just couldn’t put your finger on it yet. You’re very clear on how you felt about him, you would roll your eyes and scoff when he spoke, when everyone would laugh with him you just sat there with your arms crossed and your brows furrowed.

Hiori had always known your despise against him since the first time you both met, you never tried to be discreet about it. He would say hello to you in the morning of class but you would ignore him, not even a glance at him. You would mutter a curse under your breath when he still gives you a warm smile, you would cringe and everyone would scold you to be nice and to stop acting like a child, he does nothing but show you kindness and you should reciprocate that. Like hell you should.

“I just don’t like him” you couldn’t really explain further more until you know when you find evidence on him and prove to everyone he is not what he seems to be. There was some doubts still you trusted your gut and went with it.

It was a unlucky day for you when the group decided to go for drinks though your friends were unable to bring you home because they were drunk and decided to stay longer, it was your time to leave because your energy was drained, you couldn’t stay any later and typically Hiori was your only ride home. It was heavily raining too but you’d rather get soaked and catch a cold than be alone with Hiori. You wanted to though you wouldn’t bring yourself to do that so you had to suck it up for your sake. Just ignore him.

Somehow you ended up stripped off your clothes completely bare with nothing on with your legs spread open on your matress. Your upper body is covered in bite marks and purple bruises, your lips were swollen from his excessive kissing.

“You’re really pretty like this under me, ‘s pretty..” Hiori rubbing his cock between your soft folds, his tip brushing lightly on your clit and your humming sweet sounds instead of moans, you totally wanted to deny that you were enjoying this but you were slightly rolling your hips to feel extra of his cock prodding your clit, you think he can’t tell but he can from the way he smirks the way your body reacts.

First of all how did this even happen? He was being thoughtful to walk you to your door but he couldn’t stop glaring at you. Staring you down like he couldn’t wait for you to unlock your door. He let himself in as soon as you turned your key. His hands already making their way to touch you before you could utter a word. Now you can’t recall the last few moments from the way his dick is slipping between your wet folds.

“I was crushing on you hard when we first met..you hated me and now i get to have you”

“Your such..a weirdo!…hah”

The gaze in his eyes changed from gentle to lust. You thought he would be more on the tender side when he got you on your bed and how awfully wrong you are.

“Take it like a good girl okay?” Your ankles rested on top of his shoulders as he shoved his cock into your tight slit. A satisfied expression spreading across his face when you scream out a cry, tears were coming quick and down your face, your squeezing the blanket underneath you. Your lips quivered by his lengthy cock splitting your tensed cunt.

“It hurts hiori!”

“I know…but it’ll feel good”

He didn’t even give you time to adjust, his hips was already snapping against you. Your not telling him to stop, you’re whimpering and whining, taking his cock like you should he thought. There was pain and pleasure you were feeling at the same time, you couldn’t stop babbling how much it hurts but it felt so good he didn’t lie, him making you feel good and he was seeking pleasure from your tears. His cock rubbing intensely inside you and poking at your cervix.

“Yer such a good girl..ya my good girl aren’t you? R-right?”

“S-stop saying w-weird things..” you say with your last breath.

He lowers himself with his lips hovering over your perked nipple, his hands cup your boob fitting it into his mouth. Swirling his tongue and grazes your bud slightly with his teeth, while pinching your other. You moan like a desperation of help, your hand on his shoulders to push him away it was just too hard, even his hips rocking hard into your pussy.

When he sinks his teeth into your skin of your shoulder, neck, over your tits. Even his lips laps the bite marks he already created, he thought were a masterpiece like you were his little artwork. His hands on your hips were soft though his fingers were digging into them, purposely bruising you, still your pussy was clenching around his cock.

“Ow hiori..” you whimper when he bites a little too hard.

“‘M sorry” he licks over the grooves of his teeth marks on your skin to sooth you. Though he was already going to bite you even harder.

The way he watches you shut your eyes tight by every thrust. Your body taking the relentless treatment from the so-called “nice guy”. Your eyebrows pinched together because his cock keeps reaching deep inside your cunt, rubbing against your sweet spot. How could you let this happen? Let the person you despised most and everyone is fond of stretch your pussy out on your bed, the tears won’t stop prickling your eyes.

“Hiori-“ you hiccup

“Shh, just look at me, ya taking me so well,” throwing both your ankles on his shoulder and he pushes his cock deeper makes you gasp. It was like you loss your own sense of control when your eyes fluttered open, the water in your eyes creating a bit of a blur and it gives him excitement.

“‘S cute, ‘s pretty” you never thought he spewed so many words before because he wasn’t very talkative.

You felt it. You felt it bubbling up in your stomach. There’s was no way he was going to make you cum, you so wanted to though. You wouldn’t say it out loud yet you hope he doesn’t stop. And he doesn’t, his moans become heavier and your cries start to get louder.

“M gonna c-cum inside mkay?..”

“Don’t be stupid!..Ah fuck!”

He cums inside just like he said, his warm load stuffing you so quickly and you’re creaming over his cock so perfectly just like how he imagined. The same longing gaze doesn’t leave your face and your palms cover your eyes as you were embarrassed and your walls are still contracting around his cock.

You sat between his legs in a tub as he washes your back but also pressing soft kisses on your wet skin, humming to himself as you were contemplating everything that just happened. You didn’t know what to feel, you just had sex with a guy you loathe and turns out he was just actually a sadist that was interested in you. What would you tell your friends? What would they think? You can’t, you promised you’d prove them wrong but not like how this ended.

His arms come to wrap around your waist and pull you closer into his wet chest surprisingly broad “what are you thinking about?” He mumbles in your ear making you shiver yet your heart skips. You just couldn’t help it and he could feel you tense and your heart pound against his chest.

“About what a weirdo you are..”

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Tourist trap (Stan Pines x fem!reader)

minors dni

Stan is very fond of tourists who believe his stories.

tags: nsfw, smut, p in v, fingering, riding, desk sex, semi-public, praise, sir kink, rough sex

You shifted nervously from one foot to the other, wide-eyed and excited, as you clutched your little Mystery Shack brochure in your hand. It was all crumpled from being folded and unfolded too many times, but you couldn’t stop reading all the incredible things advertised on it.

"See the world-famous Sasquatch Skull up close! Touch the Alien Artifacts nobody else believes in!" 

You believed it all. Every last word. After all, you’re such a lover of the unknown.

Your group of tourists shuffles around you, mostly adults who looks really unimpressed, grumbling about the entrance fee. You’re the only one whose eyes are wide with excitement and who literally trembles from excitement to see everything the Shack have to offer. And that’s exactly what catches his eye.

Stan Pines stands in the doorway, leaning on his cane, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. You don’t notice how his eyes scans over you, how he takes in every little detail: the innocent excitement, the way you’re practically throwing your money at the gift shop already and that naive, gullible glow about you. You practically skip forward, not noticing how Stan’s eyes linger on you. He can tell right away — you aren’t just any tourist. No, you’re special. Too trustful. Sweet. The kind that believe every ridiculous thing he’d ever put on display.

And isn’t that just. . . adorable?

The tour starts and you trail behind him eagerly, eyes wide and shining as he tells stories about the various "creatures" and "relics" in the Shack. Part of you is convinced that every word is true, that you’re standing in the presence of real magic, real mystery. 

Stan notices you hanging on his every word and it makes something stir in him. The way your lips parts just a little, these little “wow” and “ohh” you make, the way your eyes follow his every move. Meanwhile other tourists roll their eyes or sigh, bored out of their minds, but not you. You’re his favorite kind of visitor — the kind that made his job fun

"So," Stan starts, turning to you with a glint in his eye as the rest of the group wanders off, "what do you think of this, doll? Pretty impressive, huh?"

You nod enthusiastically, clutching your bag of over-priced trinkets and souvenirs. "It’s amazing, sir! i can’t believe im seeing all this in real life! i mean, is the Sasquatch skull really real? And the alien artifacts, are they, like, actually from space?!"

"Well, aren’t you just the cutest little tourist I’ve ever seen,” he smiles, leaning slightly towards you and letting out a chuckle “most people come in here and they laugh it off. Say it’s all fake, but not you. You really believe in this, don’t you?”

“Yeah! ive always dreamed of visiting such a cool place! thank you, sir, it’ll remain a good memory,” you giggle.

“Ohh, sweetheart, if you’re such a fan, maybe i can show you some of the mysteries we keep hidden from the average tourists.” he absolutely loves how wide-eyed and trusting you are. You really believe every word he tells you?

Your eyes light up, completely oblivious to the hungry look in his eyes. "Really? You’d do that?"

Stan rubs his chin, pretending to think it over, though the grin never left his face. “Hmm,” he looks at you for a couple more seconds before he tells you you. “for you, dear? Anything.”

He leads you away from the main part of the Shack, down a hallway lined with dusty old portraits and broken light fixtures. You don’t even notice how quiet it is now as the rest of the tour group far behind. All you can think about was the excitement bubbling inside you, the thrill of seeing something “exclusive.”

Stan opens a creaky door at the end of the hall and motions for you to step inside. You eagerly obey, stepping into a dimly lit room filled with more strange objects, things that weren’t part of the normal tour. At least, that’s what Stan told you.

He closes the door behind him with a soft click, the two of you now alone and you never really noticed how close he suddenly got, his hand resting on your lower back as he guides you further into the room, its cluttered with strange artifacts, most of which hadn’t made it to the main display.

You’re buzzing with excitement as you look around at the dusty shelves. "Wow!" you gasped, wide-eyed. “What’s that? and that?! oh my gosh, is that a real shrunken head?!”

Stan chuckles, settling himself down in an old chair near desk before patting his lap. “Why don’t you come here, doll? I’ll give you a closer look.” there was something in his voice. . . something that should alert you, but you’re too caught up in your excitement to notice it.

Without a second thought, you plop yourself down on his lap, leaning forward to inspect the nearest artifact, still firing off a barrage of questions. "What’s this one? and where did you get it? oh god, is it really cursed?!"

Stan grunts, adjusting you a bit closer as his hands settled on your hips. He leans forward slightly, his mouth near your ear as he begins to explain some ridiculous story about the origins of the objects. But you barely notice how his fingers start to slip lower, just lightly brushing along the hem of your skirt.

You keep talking, completely oblivious, your words spilling out in an excited rush. “This is so cool! i can’t believe no one else gets to see this! i-“ your voice hitches as Stan’s hand slides further up your thigh, his thick fingers grazing the edge of your panties.

He continues talking as if nothing happens. “This here is an ancient artifact from South America. Supposedly cursed, but, eh, I wouldn’t worry about it too much.” he pauses, his hand gently pressing against the softness of your thigh as he keeps you pinned on his lap.

Your breath caught in your throat, but you tried to focus on his words, nodding as you squirmed a little. “W-wow, that’s- that’s so cool!” your voice breathy as Stan’s fingers brushes lightly along the edge of your panties, teasing you.

“Yeah, real cool, huh?” he asks you, still as if nothing happened, his other hand sliding up your waist to grip your side, so you wouldn’t move that much. His fingers dip lower, grazing the fabric of your panties before slipping just beneath it. “aaand this one here,” he continues, “it’s said to have belonged to an ancient tribe. Powerful stuff.”

You can barely process what he’s saying, your mind blank as his fingers lightly tease along your slit, collecting the wetness that was beginning to pool there. You shift in his lap, trying to stifle the soft whimper that escape your lips, your legs pressing together.

“Something wrong, doll?” he asks in a playful, no, mocking tone, while his fingers now lightly caressing your clit. “You seem a little distracted. Thought you wanted to hear about all these mysteries*.”

“I- I do!” you stutter. “It’s just- s-sir!”

“Just what?” Stan interrupts, his fingers now slipping lower, pressing firmly against your entrance. His other hand grips your waist, holding you firmly in place as you instinctively try to buck your hips against his hand.

You whine softly, barely able to form a coherent sentence. "I-I just. . . oh god-“

Stan smirks. “You’re so cute, sweetheart,” he nuzzles your neck, his fingers now teasing your entrance, pushing just the tip of one finger inside your throbbing cunt. “asking all these questions while sitting in my lap like a good little girl.”

You sob, your hips rocking against his hand without even realizing it. You can feel his cock, hard and pulsing beneath you, pressing against your ass, but Stan keeps his focus on you, his fingers slowly pumping in and out of your wetness, never stopping his stories.

“This one is said to have special. . . powers. Like it can make someone go crazy with just one touch.” he chuckles, his finger curling inside you, hitting that spot that made you gasp and clench around him.

Your head spinning, your body aching with need, completely at his mercy as he tease and play with you, all while still pretending like it was just another tour.

Stan’s smirk widens as he feels you trembling in his lap, the way you quietly moan, your face and body both hot. He keeps his voice steady, still saying some ridiculous story about the artifacts, but his fingers never stops their teasing.

“So, this piece here was said to be used in rituals. Uhh, something about unlocking a person’s deepest desires, makin’ ’em lose all sense of control.” its not difficult for him to imagine these false stories, he is an experienced lier after all. You try to listen, try to understand what he’s saying, but that’s just impossible to do as he presses his thumb harder against your needy bud, his fingers sliding through your slick folds. You whimper, barely able to focus on his words. Your body burning, every nerve ending tingling as his rough fingers stroke and tease your throbbing pussy. Your hips rock against his hand, desperate for more, but you’re too shy, too embarrassed to ask for it.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? you were askin’ so many questions before, now you’re all quiet?” his thumb circles your clit a little bit faster and your body jolts from pleasure, a soft cry escaping your lips before you could stop it.

“I’m just-“ you stammer, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you squirm in his lap. “I c-can’t, sir, can’t think”

He chuckles, now pushing two thick fingers deep inside your tight, clenching cunt. You gasp and your back arch against him as he starts to pump them slowly, curling and scissoring his fingers just right, hitting that spot inside you that made your whole body tremble. What a lovely sounds you’re making.

“Aww you poor thing, so lost, huh? cant even think straight, can ya?”

You whimper, biting your lip as you try to stifle the noises that are spilling out of you, but it’s useless. Your hips are moving on their own, grinding against his hand as you clung to his shirt, “sir” and “please” leaving your mouth as his fingers stretch you so well.

“Just relax, doll, I’ll take care of you. Just listen to me.” his fingers pumped harder inside your pulsing pussy. “you wanted a tour, right?”

You nodded weakly, not even listening him, unable to focus on anything but the way his fingers were fucking into you, the wet sounds of your dripping pussy filling the small room. His thick digits stretch you open just good, making you lose your mind.

“So this here,” he continued, his voice still calm despite the way you were practically writhing in his lap, “was used by an ancient tribe. Supposedly, they thought it could help them communicate with the gods, but I think it’s more useful for somethin’ else. . . don’t you, sweetheart?”

You could only sob in response, your body trembling as his fingers drove deeper, stretching your tight walls, his thumb never leaving your poor sensitive clit, your muscles clenching around his fingers as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

“You’re such a good girl,” he praises as he watches you squirm in his lap, your wetness coating his fingers. “so cute, all worked up like this. You gonna cum for me, doll?” you nod , your hips bucking against his hand, his fingers thrusting deeper inside your aching cunt. Stan laughs at that pathetic sight, his fingers moving faster now, fucking you hard and deep, your pussy clenching around his digits. “Go on, princess, cum on my fingers.” you exhale when Stan finally let you finish. With a strangled cry, your body shakes, your cunt clenching around his fingers as your orgasm crashes over you. Your eyes rolled and brain fucking melted as you shudder in his lap.

Stan grinned, watching you with a satisfied smirk. “Good girl, such a good little doll for me.”

His hand rests on your breast, first slowly and gently caressing it. His fingers find your nipple and give it a light squeeze, drawing another sound from you. Stan smirks to himself as he feels you shaking in his lap, your body responding to every little touch he gave you. His fingers still buried deep inside you, moving at a slow, teasing pace that had you on edge, desperate for more. You can barely sit still, squirming against him, your breath coming out in soft, shallow gasps.

His fingers curling inside you again, and you whimper, your hips jerking in response. “You want somethin’, don’t you? you gotta tell me what you need, doll.”

Your mind foggy, every nerve in your body on fire as his fingers keep working you over, drawing soft, desperate noises from your parted lips. You could barely think straight, let alone put together a proper sentence. “pl-please, sir”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying your struggle. “Please what, sweetheart? you gotta use your words if you want somethin’ from me.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep yourself together, but it’s damn impossible with the way his big fingers thrusting inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over again. You can feel the heat building inside you again, that desperate, aching need, but of something bigger than just his fingers. You need to be filled, to have your brains fucked out. “I need more. . .”

“More, baby? you want my fingers to go faster? is that what you mean?”

You shake your head frantically, your whole body aching for something else. “No, I need- need your cock, sir-“

He raise his eyebrows in a fake surprise. “Oh, is that what you’ve been tryin’ to say this whole time? you’re beggin’ for it now, huh? pretty little thing, all desperate for me to fuck you?”

You whimper softly, your hips moving on their own, trying to push down on his hand for more friction, more pressure, but he holds you still, keeping you right where he wanted you. “Please, sir,” you whisper and nearly cry because of horrible emptiness you’re feeling. “please just fuck me, sir, i need you!”

“You’re lucky I’m feelin’ generous today, sweetheart,” he tells you, his hand finally pulling away from your dripping slit. “don’t say i never gave you nothin’.”

Before you can even process whats happening, Stan shifts you in his lap, his strong hands lifting your hips and positioning you right above his length. You can feel his cock, already hard and throbbing beneath you, pressing up against your soaked entrance, and your whole body tense, your breath catching in your throat.

Stan’s hands grip your hips tightly, holding you steady as he lines himself up with your glistening cunt, spreading your folds. “You ready for it, doll?” he asks. “this what you’ve been beggin’ for?”

You nod quickly, fuck enough of questions, you thought. “Yes,” you whisper. “yes yes yes, ple-“ but before you can even finish, he slowly pushes inside you, stretching you open inch by inch. You immediately gasp at the new sensation, your hands gripping onto his shoulders as your body adjusts to the sudden fullness. Oh god, it’s thick, so hard, filling you completely and you can feel every inch of him throbbing inside you, every vein, it feels so hot.

Stan huffs out, his grip on your hips tightening as he buries himself to the hilt. “Fuck, you’re tight. like you were made for this, doll.”

You whimper softly, holding on him, your body trembling as you try to adjust to the feeling of him inside you. It’s almost too much, the way he stretches you so perfectly, the way he fills you completely. You can barely breathe.

Stan gives you a moment to adjust. his cock pulsing inside you. “There we go,” he mutters watching your brows furrowing. “Just like that. . . you’re doin’ so good, babygirl.”

You moan again, your hips shifting slightly in his lap, and you feel him twitch inside you,. “I. . . nhhah, s-sir”

He leans towards you and kisses your forehead, his hands guiding your hips to start moving, slowly at first. “Go on, princess. Ride me, let me see how bad you want it.”

You bite your lip nervously as you’ve never been in this pose before, you slowly start to move, lifting yourself up and then sinking back down onto his cock. It feels incredible, the way his cock stretches you open, hitting all sweet spots inside you. You feel the tension building inside you again, that same desperate, aching need, and you whimper again and again, your hips moving faster as your cunt tightening around him.

Stan’s eyes locks with yours as he guides your movements, kissing your neck. “That’s it, sweetheart, you feel so fuckin’ good, yesss, such a good girl, ridin’ me like that.”

You cry out at his words, what a sweet praise, your body moving on its own now, your hips grinding down against him, taking him deeper with each thrust. You can barely think, barely breathe, the pleasure overwhelming your senses, your mind clouded, you can’t even maintain the eye contact.

Stan’s hands moves to your waist, holding you steady as he starts thrusting up into you, meeting your movements with deep, powerful thrusts. You whine, your hands gripping onto his shoulders for support as he fucks you, your mouth hangs open while he fucks you faster and harder with each thrust, he holds you so tightly, squeezing your body while you ride him.

You gasp. “I- I’m gonna-“

“Go ahead, doll, cum for me, let me feel it.”

Your body tensed, your walls clenching around his cock as your orgasm hits you hard. Your body shaking, trembling in his lap as you cumming, rambling pleas leave your mouth when you feel the tip of his cock rubbing sweetly against your cervix. Stan groans, his grip on your waist tightening as he thrusts up into you harder, deeper, drawing out your pleasure as long as he can. “That’s it, such a good girl, baby. . . so fuckin’ tight.”

You fall on his chest, still shaking, your mind still spinning from the intensity of it all. You can feel him still throbbing inside you, still hard, and you whimper softly, your hips shifting slightly in his lap, he’s clearly not planning on pulling out.

After you manage to get your breathing back to normal at least a little you feel his hands still all over you, roughly dragging you up and laying you out on the old wooden table. Your legs tremble, spread wide as he stares down at you, taking in the sight like you’re his prize, his fucking reward.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” grin crosses his lips as he grabs your thighs, pulling you right to the edge of the table before slamming his cock back inside your pussy, forcing a cry from your throat. Your body jolts at the sudden penetration, and you moan again, legs wrapping around his waist as he starts pounding into you again. Hard. Rough. Fast. There’s not a drop of mercy in his movements, he's not holding back, fucking you like you're just a thing for him to use. Your sweet moans and that pathetic "sl-slow down!" sound like music to his ears.

His hands all over you, squeezing, groping, touching. He grabs your breasts, kneading them, pinching your nipples through your shirt so hard you whimper, arching your back off the table. He groans at that, leaning in close, his breath hot against your neck as he whispers, “Fuck, you feel heavenly, baby, can’t get enough of this sweet little cunt.”

His fingers finds your clit, rubbing circles around it, teasing you until you can’t stop the pathetic whines spilling from your lips. He keeps fucking you harder, his hips slamming against yours, the table creaking under the weight of it all. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, mixed with your gasps, your moans, your begs and his grunts as he’s pounding into you like he was starving for it.

“Look at you,” he looks down at your flushed, wrecked body, his hands gripping your waist tight enough to bruise. “Such a fucking good girl for me, huh? letting me use this pretty little pussy however I want.”

You can’t really form words, can’t do anything but take it. Your so brain fucked, body burning, you’re so close you can’t think straight. He’s rough, fast, his fingers rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, pushing you higher, higher, until you can’t hold back anymore. You cum hard, again, your pussy squeezing his cock well.

But Stan doesn’t stop. He just keeps going, fucking you right through it, ruining your pussy, even harder now, his hips snaps into you, faster, rougher, and you can feel the slick mess between your thighs, the obscene sound of it only making it filthier. You're choking on your moans.

“Ugh, gonna cum inside you, doll,” he groans. “Gonna fill this sweet pussy up, you want that? you want me to fucking fill you up?”

You nod frantically, too far gone to care about anything else, and with one last, hard thrust, he buries himself so deep, his cock pulsing as he finishes inside you. You feel how warm it is, his cum filling you up, spilling out of you as he keeps thrusting, riding out his high.

Finally, he slows down, pulling out with a groan, and you collapse back on the table, spent, utterly wrecked. Youre literally shaking, panting, his cum dripping out of your used pussy onto the wood below. Stan stands there, catching his breath, looking down at you and all that dirty mess, what a beautiful sight: your legs trembling, your body marked with his touch and his cum leaking from between your thighs.

He leans over. “you know, guess I'll give you a discount for that pretty face of yours.”

[trippinsorrows]

without you + three

authors note: welp. the ball is, gradually, rolling.

do not read this story if you haven’t read ’with me’. it won’t work as a standalone.

warnings: none

song inspo: be without you by mary j. blige

one + two

words: 4k

“I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s never a good thing.” Removing your eyes from the book in hand, you glare and flip your soon to be ex-fiance off if he keeps playing with you like this. 

Of course, he simply laughs as you shove on Joe’s shoulder.. “I’m serious.”

His hand moves to your stomach, rubbing a circle as he beckons, “tell me.”

Using the bookmark on the comforter, you stick it in the page you’re on and lay it against the side of you. “I think we should take Callie back so she can have her graduation.”

Joe looks over at you, brows furrowed. “I thought we were just going to do something here?”

“I know, and I think we still can, but I don’t want to take that from her. She was really excited about graduating.” It’s something you’ve been thinking about a lot, both as a teacher and a mom. It’s so important for children to feel and be able to celebrate their accomplishments. Sure, it’s only preschool, but it’s still a big deal for her.

You want her to be able to celebrate with her ‘classmates.’

And you express as such.

“She should be able to celebrate with the other kids. Plus, and I know right now, she’s still excited about them, but I don’t know, something tells me she’s going to struggle with some form of jealousy when the babies get here.”

Joe nods, not necessarily disagreeing with you. “But, that’s not entirely abnormal, right?”

“No, doesn’t mean it’ll be any easier to deal with though.” Frowning, it’s only now you also think about how that might be for you as well. For almost five years, you’ve been able to devote all of your time and attention onto one child. 

Now, it’s about to be four.

“Hey.” Joe, forever adept at reading you, brings his hand to your chin, forcing your gaze to land on him. “We’ll handle it together, alright?”

His words, as per usual, comfort you greatly. “You’re right.” His thumb flicks your chin, as you chuckle. “It’s probably good her little spoiled self is spending all this time with you now. Before she has to share you.”

His scowl makes you snort as he drops his hand back to your ever growing belly. “She’s not spoiled.”

“Joe, as the kids say, be so fucking for real.”

“What?”

Ignoring the fact that this man literally probably still has an AOL email with out of touch he is, you continue with your very valid point. “That little girl is spoiled rotten. You give her whatever she wants.”

“She doesn’t ask for much.”

“Not you being in straight up denial.” He’s so down bad for Callie Bear. It’s not even funny. “Need I remind you of her little tantrum two weeks ago? Baby, the way you folded so quickly should have been recorded. Tribal Chief, my ass. Got taken down by a four year old.”

Joe shoves you gently. “Shut up.”

Laughing, you continue, “just admit it, she has you wrapped around her lil’ finger, and she knows it. That’s why she tried you the way she did, but I mean it, next time it happens, and it will, set her little butt straight. She can take it.”

Joe’s frown doesn’t make it any easier for you to hold in your laughter. “I don’t like being mean to her.”

“It’s not being mean, baby. It’s being a parent. As much as she loves to play with you like you’re one of her little friends, you’re not. You’re her dad. She needs to respect you as such.”

“She does,” he defends, and you sigh, knowing this is probably just a battle you won’t win. Quieting down, you decide to switch topics to something you’ve been thinking more about as you prepare for the arrival of your children.

“I’m gonna tell her, you know. When she gets older, that I’m the reason you weren’t there the first few years of her life.”

Joe sits up in the bed, removing his hand from your stomach, concern evident all over his handsome face. “Y/N—”

You lift your hand to silence him. “No, she’s going to eventually ask, and I’m not going to lie to her. Whatever anger she feels would be justified, and I’ll handle it.” 

You’ve thought about this more and more as you progress with your pregnancy. The fact that these babies will get to experience Joe from day one when Callie didn’t. There’s undeniable unfairness, and should she ever want to know just why Joe was MIA at the beginning, you will be honest with her.

You’ll make sure she knows that it was you who decided to keep her a secret from her father. How specific you’ll get will depend on her age, but you’re not a fan of lying to and holding secrets from kids when it directly impacts them.

You know firsthand how thinking your dad didn’t want to be around can fuck with someone’s mental.

You won’t let that be the case with Callie.

Joe looks just as bothered, like he doesn’t want you doing anything that could impact how Callie sees you. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, but I do and will, baby.” You place your hand to his cheek, his beard a little more outgrown and slightly unkempt as he truly relaxes in the embrace of vacation. “Because that’s one thing I never did and would never do. I never let anyone say any disrespectful shit about you not being in Callie’s life. Amir would try it a lot, and I shot him down every time.”

The mention of Amir brings a scowl to Joe’s handsome face. It’s a bit of a distraction technique you’re grateful worked. This will also be a revisited topic over the years, clearly. “I don’t know what the fuck you saw in him.”

Small smile on your face, you shrug, “he’s not ugly, and his dick was decent.” And before he can say anything smug and smart, “yours is better, duh. Why you think I’m giving you all these kids, huh?” He smiles and shakes his head. “You gotta have God tier dick for me to push out not one but gonna be four of your big headed ass children. Boy, I wish you would try to leave me. You gon be wrestling into your eighties with how much I’ll come for you in child support.”

He rolls his eyes and kisses your temple, “you know I’m not going anywhere and neither are you.”

“Of course not, who the hell is gonna want me with all these damn kids?” The topic at hand reminds you of the book on the side of your bed, the previous reason you two were taking a break from figuring out your approach for letting friends and family know about the courthouse wedding. “Now, we really need to start deciding on names. I’m almost five months.” Pretty soon you’ll be finding out the sexes of the babies. It’s crazy to you how quickly this pregnancy is passing by, most likely due to the happiness you feel. 

Time flies when life is good. 

“Did you get Callie’s list?” 

He curses. “Shit, I forgot.”

You wave him off. “No worries.” Sitting further up in bed, you shout out, “Callie Bear! Bring us your list for baby names!” 

She doesn’t say anything, and you start to try again when she comes running into the room, Disney notebook in one hand and her American Doll in the other. She doesn’t hesitate to climb onto the bed and sit on her knees at the end, “here you go, mommy!”

You accept her notebook that’s already opened to her list of potential baby names that she came up with. “Thank you, baby.” Callie switches to sitting with her legs crossed, her doll that looks just like her, courtesy of her rich ass daddy, smack dab in the middle. “Let’s see.”

A smile falls on your face as you share the notebook with Joe, pointing out the first name that he also smiles at. 

“Moana.” Predictable. So predictable. “Maui. Hei Hei. Tamatoa.” Joe coughs beside you to clearly hold in his laugh. “Baby….are these all names from Moana?”

Callie nods happily. “And Toy Story and Encanto and The Little Mermaid,” she essentially continues to sing-song list off damn near every Disney movie ever created. “The babies have to like Disney too, mommy! Like me, you, and Grandma.”

“You’re so right.” To be fair, you really shouldn’t have expected too much more. She is one Disney loving kid, through and through. “Well, thank you so much for the list, Callie Bear.”

“Daddy, did you make a list?” She asks, head tilted as she gently caresses the top of her doll’s head.

“Not yet, baby. Mommy and I are gonna make one together.” 

“I like baby Moana.” 

He chuckles. “But you’re our little Moana.”

She pouts and corrects, “no, I’m Callie.” Her sass makes you laugh. Joe wasn’t entirely wrong. She really is a lot like you sometimes. “I want a baby sister named Moana.”

“What if they’re all boys?”

You and Callie have similar reactions. It’s just that yours is one of horror and hers is more of shock.

“Noooo, I want a little sister.” 

Adding onto Callie’s vehement protest, you make your own strong thoughts and feelings known. “And I am not pushing out three boys at once, Joe. You done lost your god—”

“What do you want for your birthday, Callie Bear?” You’re partially thankful for the save but also irritated he’s asking this question he already knows is gonna generate a wild ass answer.

“A puppy!”

See.

You do your best to use the perfect combination of understanding yet assertiveness. “Baby, we done had this conversation before, we are not getting a puppy until you’re at least ten.”

“But, I’ll be old!”

“Exactly, old enough to take care of a puppy.” One look at Joe, and you can see he’s about to open his mouth and probably find some reason to ‘agree’ with or at least defend Callie’s request. “Absolutely not. No dog until she’s older, and that’s final.”

Callie, understandably, does not agree nor like this rule, and it’s evident in her deep pout and the way she crosses her arms over her little body. “Not fair.”

“Life ain’t fair, buttercup.” You retort, quickly reminding her as you take in her appearance. “Speaking of, it’s almost time for your wash day….”

The infamous, dreaded day of nonstop hair washing and styling is enough to wipe her smile away and award her a brand new reason to start whining, “I don’t want to.”

The feeling is mutual. “Neither does mommy, but we gotta do it eventually, Callie Bear.” Looking over at Joe, you inform him, “and you will be present for this ordeal, sir, so you can learn how to do her hair for me.”

He looks confused, nose turned up. A chuckle is withheld at how much he and his daughter mimic each other in this situation. “Baby, I don’t know how to do hair.”

Sucking your teeth, you smartly point out, “you do your own!”

“I barely do anything with my hair. You know this.” 

Damn. He’s right. Lucky ass. “Regardless, when I get too big to be bending over the sink like that, someone’s gonna have to do it.”

Of course, Joe’s smartass just decides to throw out something that should probably be discussed before saying around Callie, “I’ll take her to your mom.”

Callie’s eyes light up a bit. “Grandma!”

“Joe.” Lord, this man got too much money or something. “You seriously are going to fly our daughter out to my hometown so my mama can do her hair?”

He shrugs, clearly not seeing an issue with what’s being proposed. “Yeah.”

Rolling your eyes and shaking your head, you lean further back in the pillows of the bed. “You are too—” However, you’re cut short mid-sentence, face and chest dropping simultaneously, the change in your disposition enough to catch Joe’s attention. 

“What’s wrong?” He’s sitting up even more, expertly masking the concern that’s growing by the second. Recognizing this, you will that small smile to start forming on your face, shaking your head as you motion for him and Callie to move closer.

“Mommy?” Callie is just as confused as you reach for both her and Joe’s hands, placing them on your belly, trying to find the spot of origin. “What—”

This time, she’s the one to stop mid-sentence as she feels it, the sensation you last felt when you were pregnant with her. Callie’s face is still set with understandable confusion, but your gaze on Joe reveals minimal concern and an abundance of amazement. 

“What is that, mommy?” Callie finally asks. The emotion in your throat takes you back a bit. You’re not typically a super emotional person, but there’s something about this moment, about feeling your babies kick for the first time and being able to share it with your fiance and child that does something to you. Knocks at those pillars that hold up your resolve. 

“That’s the babies. They’re kicking.” You explain, smiling a bit as Callie looks at you in horror.

“Why are they hurting you?”

“They’re not, sweetie. That’s what babies do. As they get bigger and grow, they need to move around and sometimes kick. You did the same thing to me.” Adding some playfulness into your voice, there’s a level of relief to see she appears less concerned. 

Your attention, however, is brought back to Joe as he kisses your temple, hand still planted on your stomach, clearly soaking up every bit of this precious, cherished moment. 

“I love you,” he murmurs against your temple. It’s such a simple statement, a little three letter sentence that means more than anyone could ever understand. Moving your hand to the side of his face, you both laugh as Callie moves her face to your stomach. 

“Don’t kick mommy too much, okay, little babies?” The determination on her face should be captured and locked away for safekeeping for the rest of time. “She’s the bestest mommy ever and pretty and smart and—”

“—and still not getting you a puppy.” While your daughter is undoubtedly one of the sweetest kids you’ve ever come across, she’s also intelligent as hell. And you know her like the back of your hand. Enough to know where she’s headed with this. 

And, you’re proven correct when she rolls her eyes again, making a ‘hmmph’ sound that has Joe chuckling next to you. She then sets her little plotting sights on Joe as she takes her hand from your stomach and moves to crawl into his lap.

You have to keep yourself from rolling your own eyes as she pulls out that sickeningly sweet voice and holds onto his shirt. “Daddy?”

Joe doesn’t hesitate to answer right away. “Yes, baby?” One look at him, and you already know what the answer is going to be. This man is so weak for this little girl. It’s not even funny. 

“Hallie wants a friend…..” Joe’s eyebrows cave in confusion as he looks over at you. 

Gesturing to her American Girl doll on the edge of the bed, you fill him in, “that’s what she named the doll.” 

He chuckles, clearly amused by the name that rhymes with hers. “She does?”

Callie nods, that excitement building back up. “Two friends!”

Mouth dropping, you prepare to put this child in her place when Daddy Warbucks beats you to it, living up to his reputation.

“Well, then we need to get her two friends.”

“Yay!” Callie celebrates, hugging Joe who ignores your look of disapproval. “Can I make her friends too?” 

And once again, the first living, breathing bank to ever exist is quick to fold. “Of course, Callie Bear.”

“Yay!” She cheers yet again for another way too easy battle. It’s not even a battle at this point. Battle would mean that both parties have somewhat of a chance, and Joe is clearly putty for his little girl. “Thank you, daddy.” She seals the deal with a hug and kiss on his cheek before climbing off the bed, grabbing Hallie as she shares, “I’m gonna make them now!”

With her tablet, clearly. The tablet you’d bet any money Joe once again disabled the time limits on. 

Lord, you’re about to have five damn children to take care of at this point. 

It’s only when Callie is out of the room and on her way to celebrate yet another successful day of finessing her daddy that you punch this man in his big ass arm. 

“What?” It’s him having the audacity to sound and look confused that has you ready to kick him out of the room. 

“What do you mean what?” Angling your body more toward him, you explain, “Joe, why are you buying her more dolls? American Girl dolls, at that. I know you must have paid at least $300 for the first one you got her. I saw all them accessories.” He rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it, because he can’t. Callie had always asked you for one, and while you could have scraped some money together to make it happen, you couldn’t come to grips with just how many other more useful things one could do with that money. “She doesn’t need them dolls, babe.”

“You gon’ let her get a puppy now?”

An easy ass answer. “Hell no.”

He has the nerve to catch a slight attitude with you as he affirms, “then she’s getting the dolls.”

Rubbing your temples, you realize this isn’t a ‘fight’ you’re not going to win. “You know what, whatever. You do what you want, but I’m telling you right now, these—” You bring his hand back to your belly. “—babies are not going to be spoiled like their big sister. They gon be like Oliver Twist and grateful for a bowl of soup.”

He moves his hand around, probably trying to see if he can feel any more movement. “Callie is grateful.”

“For now.” Not really wanting to have this circular dialogue with him, you grab your phone to see a couple missed texts but open the one from your mom first, instantly rolling your eyes. “Not this again.”

The shift in your voice catches Joe’s attention. “What?”

Shaking your head, you show him the thread, thumb right next to the link for an article on ‘melanin maternal mental health’. 

Talk about fucking alliteration. 

“I don’t know what’s been up with her lately, but she’s been sending me all these links for articles and like motivational photos about mental health and motherhood.” You explain to him, going to heart the message and send a quick response to at least show some appreciation. Because there is a little there. That your mom cares about you so much. But the concern isn’t necessarily valid or needed..

This is the happiest you’ve been in some time. A long time. If ever.

Nothing is going to change that.

Especially being a mother to three more children. 

Placing your phone back on the nightstand, a glance at Joe reveals he’s debating something. “What?”

He moves closer to you, hand pushing back some of your coils. “Been thinking about that movie thing…..”

The smile on your face grows as you move closer, eyes twinkling with all the curiosity in the world. “What did you decide?”

—------

Megan is having a wonderful day.

One of the best she’s had in a while.

Not only did she manage to wake up on time, but the coffee she ordered from this cute little cafe she found while on a business trip in Denver a couple months ago awaited her on the outside of her apartment door when she got back from her pilates class the night before.

And there’s few things she loves more than a delicious cup of morning Joe.

A smirk falls on her face as she hums “Here Comes the Bride” while engaging in her extensive shower routine, admiring the expert work of her wax lady. Body hair has always been an absolute no. But, it’s when she moves the loofah across the weight of her heavy breast that Megan imagines hands and not her loofah. Big hands that would cup her boobs roughly as he forces her to turn around, slams her up against the shower wall and fucks her hard from behind, her moans and shouts of pleasure dancing across the tile, alerting everyone of just who owns this pussy.

Hand gliding down her wet, nude body, she keeps the vision going, slender thighs clenching together at the thought of him forcing her on her knees, his dick down the back of her throat, eyes watering as he mouth fucks her.

“Joe….” Thin fingers slip past wet folds as she realizes she’s going to be a couple minutes late for work.

So worth it though. 

Because Megan hasn’t come like that in years. Her legs are practically wobbly as she finally exits the shower, bathroom mirror completely fogged to where she has to grab a towel to clear up a section so she can see herself.

The pink tinge of her cheek brings a sly smile to her face. 

“I can’t wait until we can be together, my love…” A sweep of sadness comes over her as she grabs her phone, admiring his handsome face on her lock screen and opens Apple Music to play his entrance music, selecting the repeat button before she continues with her routine. 

It takes her about the usual time.

And soon enough, Megan is out the door, having finished her delicious coffee and opted to just have a banana for breakfast. There’s no time for unnecessary caloric intake.

She has to start preparing for the wedding. 

Walking into the office, right away, she can detect the almost sullen atmosphere and does her best to match the vibe.

To play along. 

And before she can go to her office bestie, Paige, to “find out” why everything feels so off, the team is pulled in for a mandatory meeting.

Luke’s quiet demeanor does take her a bit back. He’s never quiet. She’s not complaining though. Not at all.

As soon as everyone is seated, he starts off with the general pleasantries that are weighed by the sadness in his voice. And then he gets into it. “I know some of you have heard, but for those who haven’t, I—uh—I got some bad news.” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “There’s uh—no way to say this, but Susan Jackson was found dead this morning.”

As an array of gasps and shocked countenances fill the room, Megan does her best to blend in, to play along with the genuine surprise of all of her coworkers.

Paige leans over to whisper to Megan, eyes also watery, “they say she killed herself. That she was found her on the sidewalk in front of her apartment building. Window was open and everything.”

Megan expertly fakes a horrified expression. “Oh my god, how heartbreaking.” She even manages to crank out some tears that don’t shed but get the job done. “I can’t believe she’s gone….”

“Megan.” She lifts her head, eyebrows also raising. “I know you worked close with Susan on a couple of clients, and you also know she was set to assist Roman Reigns on his debut film, but with Susan gone….”

Megan shakes her head, pulling out a few sniffles. “It’s okay. I’ll….I’ll do it. I’ll take Reigns as my client.”

And my husband.

Luke gives her a nod of appreciation, wiping at his eyes as he clears his throat and continues to address the room.

It takes almost everything in her not to roll her eyes. The woman was fucking fifty for crying out loud. 

She lived long enough. 

He says something about grief counseling, the suicide hotline, blah blah blah.

Megan does her best to listen but mostly tunes out the rest of the meeting. It’s irrelevant. She has what she wants. Now, it’s time to go after who she wants, the thought alone creating such an intense, euphoric feeling inside of her stomach as she casually traces the brand new tiny letter ‘J’ she now has tattooed on her ring finger.

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 74

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe: Military School

Words: 5K

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Friday, March 25th; 9:15 a.m. - Camp Wiegman

I arrive in the common room where a large number of students have gathered. The head teachers and some instructors, including Lucy, have been called to a big meeting. The students are saying it’s about yesterday’s scandal, as several of them, myself included, suffered from indigestion. I’ll ask Lucy if that’s true. They were smart about it; they scheduled it for 9 a.m. to make sure we couldn’t leave before noon. So, we have an hour of free time. I spot Alexia sitting on the couch, chatting with a guy I don’t know. I’m glad she’s here too. We didn’t know which class would be freed due to the meeting. I walk over to them with my friends. I wanted to use this break to catch up on the form we had to fill out for the trip. The others assured me I didn’t miss much. They were bored to death, especially Leah, who was left alone because of me. The good thing is they’re going to give me their notes to help me fill out the questionnaire. I want to show my teacher I’m capable of working. Especially since he’s developed a kind of disdain for me recently. He didn’t even check on me yesterday or say I didn’t need to turn in my work. Well, according to Alessia, the questions were simple, and she thinks I wouldn’t have had any trouble answering them if I’d gone on the trip.

"Hey," I greet Ale.

"Oh, you’re here too!" she exclaims, hugging me. "How are you feeling?"

"Still the same as this morning," I joke.

Alexia was really worried when she found out I was one of the affected students. Fortunately, I was just sick yesterday. This morning feels like yesterday never happened. Of course, I skipped the hot chocolate today. It’ll take me some time before I can drink it again, but for now, I’m sticking to orange juice.

"Can you lend me your notes, Alessia?" I ask my friend, who’s now sitting on my other side.

"Oh, forget about school for a bit! You’re with us for once!" Ale scolds me.

"Alright, alright," I laugh. "You sound just like Lucy."

"She scolds you too?" Leah teases from the couch across from us.

"Yeah," I groan, stretching. "She dragged me out all weekend to make me stop. According to her, I always find something to obsess over when I’m stressed."

"She’s not wrong. Speaking of stress, have you heard back from the galleries?"

"It’s better not to talk about frustrating things right now..." Alessia comments on my behalf.

I cross my arms, feeling a bit down. I’ve gotten a few rejections this week, which I shared with Alessia. She also loves art and is happy that I’m pursuing it. She doesn’t have the same courage as me, though, since she plans to stick with administration to secure her future. I have to admit I’m starting to feel anxious about the feedback. Maybe I’ll have to do the same as her. There’s no way I’m staying home doing nothing, though.

"Don’t worry. I heard Mapi’s coming this weekend. That’s cool; she’ll be able to cheer you up."

I raise an eyebrow.

"What do you mean, Mapi’s coming?"

"Uh... You didn’t know? I called Jenni after class. Lucy told her this morning that she’s coming."

"Lucy?!"

This news catches me off guard. How is it that she knew before me that my best friend is coming? And even if that’s the case, why didn’t she just tell me? Alexia feels bad about my reaction.

"Maybe it was supposed to be a surprise...? Crap. I probably shouldn’t have told you! Lucy’s going to kill me! Can you pretend you don’t know?"

I smile despite myself and shake my head. Maybe she’s right. I hope so, honestly.

"What are you offering for my silence?" I tease, amused.

She playfully hits my arm, and our friends laugh. It’s so easy to tease her. I laugh too, but I’m glad she’s getting along better with my girlfriend. Suddenly, I start thinking about Mapi. It’s not surprising I wasn’t informed by her; I’ve been out of the loop, buried in my studies. Maybe she did message me, and I missed it. That would be more worrying. I already feel bad just thinking about it.

"So, what are we doing? Besides catching up on boring school stuff, of course."

"Hey. Calm down, will you?"

"Nope. By the way, Alba’s meeting Jenni next weekend. She’ll probably stop by the gym."

"Really? Where is she anyway?" I ask, glancing around.

"Probably with her girlfriend somewhere. I haven’t seen her since we got let out."

I chuckle, imagining exactly where they must be. Normally, we’re not allowed to have «intimate relationship », but with the supervision lightened, now’s probably the perfect time.

"I see. So, she’s stuck in for the weekend?"

"Yeah. Misa’s staying with her. That’s why we’re doing it next weekend. She’s excited to meet her..."

"I bet. How did Jenni take it?"

"She doesn’t know yet. Don’t say anything, though. I’m planning to break it to her gently this weekend..."

I laugh heartily. I’d pay to see her face when she tells her. I think she’s going to be totally shocked. Alexia explained to me that her only fear is that her sister won’t accept her, which would strain their relationship. I understand that. The opinion of someone close to you carries a lot of weight. I’ve been a victim of that between Lucy and Mapi myself.

"And why are you introducing them at their gym? Is there no other place?"

"What’s ‘their gym'?" Leah asks.

"Oh, uh... You don’t know."

"You’re not allowed to talk about it, are you?" she teases.

We glance at each other, and I shrug. I’m not sure, actually. Lucy hasn’t mentioned anything, but I don’t think she wants the students to know it’s her last year.

"Sorry, Leah," I simply say.

She shrugs indifferently. She doesn’t seem upset, so it’s fine.

"Anyway, so?"

"Well, I figured it’d be a neutral place. Plus, she’ll see that she has ambitious plans and that she’s not irresponsible."

"Hmm, hmm," I tease.

"What? You don’t think it’s a good idea?"

"I just wonder if you’re not trying to convince yourself..." I giggle.

"A little..." she admits. "Plus, I figured you guys would be there just in case..."

"Oh no, I’m stopping you right there. Lucy’s already told me she doesn’t want to be there when it happens."

"Oh no," she pouts. "Don’t tell me that."

"I swear. I didn’t even have to ask. She brought it up herself, and I don’t think it’s negotiable. She keeps saying she doesn’t want to see any of my friends from here before the end of the year. I’m sorry..."

"What if I organize a party?" Leah suggests. "It would kill two birds with one stone since I’d like to see her outside of here."

I grimace a little. She doesn’t realize I’m going to get scolded again if I keep pushing.

"That could be fun, being all together," Alessia agrees.

"You guys are unbelievable. You really can’t wait a month and a half?"

"Tell that to Alba," Alexia retorts. "She’s the one trying so hard to bring the events closer."

I sigh, running a hand through my hair.

"When would this party be?" I give in.

"In three weeks," Leah tells me. "My parents will be going away for the weekend with some friends. We figured it’d be the perfect time to throw another party. Plus, it’s right before the holidays."

Alessia nods beside her, confirming what Leah just said.

"OK…" I mutter. "I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t promise anything. Lucy can be really stubborn when she wants to be."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best!" Ale replies excitedly.

She kisses my cheek several times before letting me go. Meanwhile, I keep glancing at every door that opens, hoping Lucy will walk through. We don’t know how long the meeting will last, but I’m optimistic. I smile when I see it’s not my girlfriend, but Ingrid. I interrupt Ale and Leah’s conversation, where my roommate is asking if it’s okay for her girlfriend to come, since she’s now planning to delay the meeting between her and her sister until then.

"I’ll be right back," I say as I stand up.

Alexia watches me, confused, until she spots Ingrid.

"Oh no. Please don’t tell her you know about Mapi. I’ll get in trouble again!" 

I laugh and wave her off. Whether she likes it or not, I’m definitely going to question Ingrid, who’s probably the first to know what’s going on. I approach her, and she spots me right away, greeting me with a smile.

"What brings you here, Ona?"

"Hey, how are you?"

"Good, and you?"

"Good too. Is Lucy still in the meeting?"

"Yep. You probably won’t see her all morning. She’s got a meeting with Wiegman right after."

A lightbulb goes off in my head. Damn! I completely forgot about that! She had told me earlier in the week that she scheduled a meeting with her to resign. Ingrid laughs, clearly noticing that I just remembered.

"I’m such an idiot."

"If you say so," she teases.

I bite my lip. I wish I could’ve said something to encourage her, but now it’s too late.

"Don’t stress about it. She won’t hold it against you. She knows you’ve got a lot on your mind. And you weren’t feeling well yesterday either."

I nod. It doesn’t erase the guilt I feel, though. I’ll try to make up for it this weekend. In the meantime, I remember why I’m here in the first place.

"I heard Mapi is coming."

"Did Alexia spill the beans?"

"Was it supposed to be a surprise?"

"Oh no. Mapi’s tried texting you several times this week, but none of the messages got through. She thinks your phone’s off. Lucy wanted to tell you yesterday, but you weren’t feeling well."

I groan, realizing what’s happened. I feel really bad now. My phone must be off since I haven’t used it since Monday.

"At least you found out she’s coming before we go pick her up, so it’s not too bad."

I scowl as she clearly makes fun of me. Well, I deserve it. At least she doesn’t beat around the bush when telling me things.

"So, we’re going together to pick her up?"

"Yep. Lucy suggested we all have lunch together after we pick her up."

I nod, grateful she’s taken the initiative without needing my input. Damn, I really need to make up for all of this this weekend.

"OK… Thanks."

"No problem."

I can tell she finds this situation amusing. With an embarrassed smile, I turn back to my friends. Hopefully, once I apologize to everyone, I won’t feel as foolish. 

Friday, March 25; 12:15 PM - Camp Wiegman.

I was waiting for Lucy outside the school, like we usually do. I had already seen Ingrid’s car pass by, so I figured Lucy would be next, and sure enough, her car pulls into the parking lot. She parks in the open spot right in front of me. I have so many things to tell her, I don’t even know where to start. I put my suitcase in the trunk and join her in the front seat.

"Hey."

"Hi."

I lose my smile when I see the serious look on her face.

"Is something wrong?"

"Get in. It’s windy."

I do as she says, closing the door behind me. The bad weather has passed, and we’ve got sunshine, but a cool breeze has followed it.

"What’s going on?" I ask, seeing her stare straight ahead.

I don’t like seeing her like this. Luckily, she’s not one to beat around the bush with me.

"Wiegman knows."

My heart skips a beat at this unexpected news. Then it starts racing, and I can’t calm it down. No, this can’t be happening. Not now, not when my exams are in a month. Not after all the effort I’ve put in. Tears well up in my eyes. I blink to get rid of them, but it’s no use.

"Is it…? H-how? This is crazy!"

"Hey, hey," she says, noticing my state. "Calm down. It’s not as bad as you think."

She takes my hands and kisses them, one by one. Her calmness manages to soothe me, even though I still don’t know how things aren’t as bad as she says.

"How did she find out?"

"Your management professor… He saw me kiss you yesterday while you were still asleep. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was planning to this weekend."

"He… That jerk!" I fume. "Did you talk to him?"

"No, I didn’t get the chance. What caught me off guard was that he reported us to Wiegman before I could even do that."

"And Wiegman!? Did she believe him? Just like that? Without letting us explain ourselves?"

"Calm down, baby. No. She asked for my side of the story… I didn’t want to lie, especially when I had my resignation letter in my hand."

I must look shocked. She didn’t do that, did she?

"Stop panicking. Neither of us is getting expelled," she tells me.

"Wait—we’re not…?"

A small smile appears on her face. I remember her first expression. She must have been just as angry as I am. Now she looks like she’s teasing me. How can she? Our principal knows! Shouldn’t we be packing up and getting out of here? That’s what happened to Jenni!

"Given the circumstances, no, I’m not."

"Are you going to explain?"

She chuckles softly, still holding my hands in hers. I don’t find this funny. She dropped this bombshell on me and is now laughing about it. It’s hard to understand.

"We had a long discussion. I spent nearly two hours in her office. When she brought it up, I didn’t know what to do, but I decided to be honest, and it looks like that paid off."

"We’re really not getting expelled?"

"No. I think the fact that you’re your mother’s daughter helped a lot."

I relax, and for the first time in my life, I’m grateful to be her daughter.

"I confirmed our relationship, but I also explained all the good I’ve brought to you. I told her about how hard you’re working to pass your exam, your progress, and your future plans.

- And what did she say?

- She was hesitant at first, until I showed her the pile of exercises you gave me to correct. She realized that our relationship is serious and that it’s helping you.

- Of course! And that’s it?

- Sort of. I told her that if she has to expel someone, she should only expel me, and I handed her my resignation letter. I didn’t want her to ruin your future over this.

- But I thought...

- I’m not expelled, Ona. Let me finish.

- Sorry, I said, blushing.

She’s talking a lot without getting to the point, but I can tell my impatience is amusing her.

- She initially thought I was giving her my resignation because of this, but I told her about my plans to open a gym. Thanks to our evening classes and Ingrid’s testimony, she recognized my professionalism and honesty. She didn’t want to destroy your efforts or our future, so… she’s cutting us some slack. I’ll remain your supervisor until the end.

- So… Wiegman knows, and we’re not expelled…?

I mutter the words, struggling to comprehend them. It feels so surreal.

- It’s not without consequences. She’s going to talk to your professor to make him drop the idea. As for us, we need to stay discreet. If anyone else sees us together and reports it, she won’t be able to protect us, and both our futures will be at risk. Do you understand?

I nod, feeling completely lost. Wow. I never saw this coming. It’s insane.

- Then why did you look so serious earlier? You scared me!

- Sorry. I don’t know. Shocked and angry, I guess. I’m having a hard time processing it too. I always imagined I’d be leaving the day she found out.

- Well, that’s not happening. Isn’t this good news?

- Oh, definitely.

- I suppose I should forget the question I was going to ask you...

- What question? she asks curiously.

- Leah invited us to a party she’s throwing with everyone. Alexia wants us to come because she’s planning to introduce Jenni to Alba.

I quickly explain while playing with her fingers. I knew it would be complicated, but it’s even more so now.

- You know we’ve had this conversation before, Lucy begins, tilting my chin up.

- I know. It’s the others who pressured me...

- I know it’s complicated for you, but we need to stay discreet a little longer. After that, I promise we can shout our love for each other to anyone.

- And go out with my friends?

She rolls her eyes with a small smile. At first, I could tell this situation suited her. I mean, it must be strange for her too, hanging out with people who were once her students.

- Yes, sweetheart. We can go out with your friends. I’d do anything for you.

I kiss her tenderly at this admission. She’s a sweetheart.

- We need to go. Ingrid’s probably waiting for us, she murmurs between kisses.

I pull away and buckle up at the mention.

- Yeah, I heard Mapi’s coming this morning...

- That’s right. Ingrid told me how upset you were about it, she chuckles, placing a hand on my thigh as she starts the car. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you yesterday, but I completely forgot because of your condition.

- It’s my fault too. I’ve been so out of it...

- Don’t beat yourself up about it. You’re allowed to work hard during the week, she unexpectedly defends me. Mapi will understand.

- Hmm...

- If it helps, I gave her updates on your behalf.

- Really? I asked, surprised.

- Well, yes. She worries when you don’t reply, so she comes to me.

- Thanks.

- You don’t have to thank me for that. She’s your best friend.

- Yes, but it’s not like you’re her biggest fan, I chuckled.

She rolls her eyes in amusement.

- True, she mutters. But you’d be surprised what we could do together for you.

I smile at the thought. I think she’s right. Even if they don’t exactly get along, they’d tolerate each other for my sake. We finally arrive at Ingrid’s place to pick her up. I offered to let her sit up front, but she insisted I stay there. Next stop: the airport. Our chat with Lucy made us late, so by the time we get there, Mapi is already waiting with her suitcase. She greets us one by one, finishing, of course, with Ingrid, whom she can’t stop kissing.

- Couldn’t resist coming, huh? I teased.

- Nope, not really. I’m taking the opportunity to bring some things over and see you both, since I heard you won’t be around for the next holidays.

- That’s true, I admit with a shy smile. Sorry about that.

Lucy pulls me into a hug when she notices how I feel. It’s a fair complaint. I didn’t handle these holidays, but I do know Lucy booked our tickets—and Jenni and Alexia’s—this week.

- It’s okay, I’m just teasing. Your girlfriend defended you enough for me to forgive you, she says, giving me a little hug.

I really need to thank Lucy for that. Usually, Mapi holds grudges much longer. Finally, we head to the restaurant. We’re all starving. Our girlfriends take us to a place I haven’t been before. Mapi seems in good spirits, chatting non-stop about her plans to move here after the school year. Her doubts are far behind her now. She hasn’t heard from her parents in a long time either. She confided that she thinks it’s time to cut ties with them for good. I can only support her in that. I’ve met them once, but they were never really around due to their work. When they did talk to their daughter, it was mostly to criticize her or try to convince her to change her mind about taking over the family business. In that kind of situation, there’s no point in staying in contact. I really admire Mapi’s courage. Even though my mom and I were estranged for a long time, I don’t know if I’d have the guts to do the same. I’m very tied to family, especially because of the promises I made to my dad. Plus, if Mapi were in my situation, I doubt her parents would have offered the help my mom gave me last year. I can blame my mom for a lot of things, but not that, and it’s why I decided to reconnect with her.

- I ran into Abby this week while grocery shopping, Mapi tells me.

- Really? I say, not looking up from the menu.

I’m thinking of getting a burger. I saw one go by, and it looked delicious. Our drinks arrive within minutes. The service seems fast, which is good because I’m starving.

- She told me about the wedding... Is that why you reacted so strongly the last time she visited?

- Not really. There were a lot of things that set me off.

- I’m not going to force you to talk about it, but I think Abby believes you don’t want to come. You should give her a call if you plan on going. That’s all she’s waiting for.

- Do you know the date? She didn’t have time to tell us, Lucy asks.

- Uh, I don’t remember exactly. I think it’s in June.

So soon? I must have shown my surprise because she gives me a sympathetic smile.

- Well, I guess you should call her today, huh? Lucy advises, rubbing my thigh to comfort me.

In just two months, my mom will marry another man. I’m struggling to process it. Everything must have been planned behind my back for months. Lucy kisses my temple, and the conversation moves on. I have trouble following. It’s like my mom was waiting for me to finish school so I could attend the wedding. It warms my heart, in a way. She’s hoping I’ll be there, despite everything that’s happened between us.

We’ll talk more about it when we get home, if you want, Lucy whispers in my ear. »

I nod and snuggle up to her on the bench we're sharing. I'm not sure if it will be necessary, but it always feels good to confide in her. Meanwhile, Mapi keeps talking about how hard she's been working lately. Looks like I'm not the only one pushing myself for this final stretch. The only difference is that she manages to juggle her two lives without anyone saying anything to her. I think I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed, too. It's not easy to catch up on everything I've missed. But I’m going to hang in there. I'm almost there.

Friday, March 25th; 10:15 PM - Ona and Lucy’s Apartment  

We’ve just come home for the first time today. I’m glad to be back in our place. The atmosphere immediately puts me at ease. We spent the day with the girls, in town, then at the gym later in the afternoon where Jenni, Alexia, and Beth were still working, preparing to receive the first pieces of furniture in two weeks. Then, it’ll finally be vacation time. I sigh as I settle next to my girlfriend on the couch.

- “Relieved to be home?”  

- “Oh yes!” I reply. “It’s good to relax too.”  

- “Definitely.”  

I sigh contentedly as my head falls onto her lap. Lucy immediately starts running her fingers through my hair. I close my eyes to enjoy the moment to the fullest.  

- “Do you want to call your mom?”  

- “Oh no,” I groan. “Not tonight. I’ll do it tomorrow, when I can take my time.”

I lay on my side, placing my hand on her thigh. It’s a pretty comfortable position. Lucy is sitting with her feet stretched out on the other side of the couch, facing the TV. She flips through the channels before settling on some random series I’m not really paying attention to.

- “Are you feeling good about going to your mom’s wedding?”  

I nod, lifting my head to look at Lucy. She’s watching me intently. She’s always so worried about me, and it’s adorable.

- “She wants us there, so we’ll be there.”  

- “Alright…”  

- “Shouldn't we be thinking about our next vacation instead?” I ask.  

- “If you want. I didn’t tell you, but… I booked a ticket to land in Lisbon.”  

- “What? How come?”  

- “Well, since we’re already going to Portugal, I thought we might as well visit the city where you grew up and where your dad is buried.”  

- “That’s amazing! Thank you so much.”  

- “It’s no big deal,” she smiles.  

- “How long will we stay? I guess you’ve already planned everything?”  

She laughs and nods.

- “We’ll arrive in Porto around the same time as Jenni and Alexia, for about a week.”  

- “You’re so sweet, always thinking of me.”  

- “I know,” she jokes. “Do you have any family we could stay with?”  

- “Of course. My grandfather.”  

- “Oh, right. The one you like so much, right?”  

- “Yes! I can’t wait for you to meet him! I’ll let him know as soon as I can. He’s going to be so happy.”  

I sit up and straddle her to show my gratitude with a big hug.

- “Thank you, really. I love you so much.”  

- “I love you too, my love.”

We kiss tenderly before I rest my head on her shoulder.

- “Are you sure your parents are going to like me?”  

She laughs, running her hand through my hair, sending shivers down my spine. It’s a fear that haunts me. I’m afraid they won’t accept me, and that Lucy might leave me because of it. When I lift my head again, she looks at me with adoration, her eyes filled with all the love she has for me.

- “I promise they will.”  

- “You seem really sure of that…”  

- “Stop worrying about it. They’re going to love you. They’re actually really excited to meet you.”  

- “Really…? You’ve already told them about me?”  

- “Of course. I’ve had plenty of chances to call them from school and talk about you. They know you exist and that we’re coming in a few weeks. They also know you were my student at school, why you were there, but most importantly, they know how much I love you.”  

- “Y-you told them everything!? Oh my God!”  

I try to pull away, but Lucy holds me back with a small laugh. There’s nothing funny about this! How could she tell her parents that I was a former junkie who ran away with my ex to ruin my life?

- “Calm down. I did it to save you from a bunch of awkward questions. I wanted to tell them myself so they’d know what to expect. Mostly, I wanted them to understand how much you mean to me and that they’d better not traumatize you. Well, at least not my dad. He’s a saint compared to my mom.”  

- “Fantastic,” I say sarcastically.  

Lucy smiles and presses her lips to mine.

- “I promise you don’t have to worry. And how about we head to bed now, huh? We’ve got a busy day ahead of us tomorrow, again.”  

- “OK…” I murmur. “Speaking of tomorrow, I made a few sketches for the walls of the rooms you guys want me to decorate.”  

- “Oh, really? I won’t ask when you found time to do that.”  

- “In my room,” I reply. “Who do you think I am? I’ve become responsible!”

I squeal as she lifts me up, turning off the TV in the process. The way she carries me to our bedroom brings back so many memories.

- “Of course, my love. We’ll take a look at them in the morning. Right now, it’s time for bed.”  

I smile, snuggling back against her shoulder. I’m not going to argue with that.

[pucksandpower]

Seeing Color

Lando Norris x soulmate!Reader

Summary: the average person goes their whole life without seeing so much as a drop of color, so safe to say you’re quite surprised when the sky suddenly turns blue while you’re covering Formula 1 for the first time

The sky’s a muted gray, just like every other day of your life, as you stand in the bustling paddock of Silverstone, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach.

This isn’t what you signed up for. Football’s your thing — sweaty players, goals, and post-match interviews in rain-soaked stadiums. But motorsport? Formula 1? It’s a different beast altogether.

“Just one race,” your supervisor had assured you. “It’ll be fine, Y/N. You’re a pro.”

Easy for them to say. The paddock is a maze of garages, team colors (which are a uniform grayscale for you, of course), and a cacophony of sounds that’s more overwhelming than a packed Premier League stadium.

You’ve been briefed on the basics — Max Verstappen’s the reigning champ, Lewis Hamilton’s the legend, and Lando Norris, the homegrown young talent, just secured P2.

P2. The words feel alien, even though you repeat them to yourself over and over, willing them to become familiar. Podium finish, second place. You’ve got this.

But the truth is, you don’t. Not really. And it’s showing as you fumble with your notes, trying to prepare for the post-race interviews. Your heart’s racing faster than any of the cars on the track.

“Hey, you alright there?”

The voice comes from behind you, startling you out of your thoughts. You turn around and see a young man — not too tall, with curly hair, and a faint smirk playing on his lips. You recognize him immediately, even in black and white.

Lando Norris.

“Yeah, just-” You scramble for professionalism, straightening your back and offering what you hope is a confident smile. “Just getting ready for the interviews.”

Lando’s eyes flicker down to the notes in your hand. “First time covering F1?”

Your smile falters. “Is it that obvious?”

He chuckles softly, and for a moment, it’s as if the world around you narrows down to just the two of you standing there in the paddock, the sounds and chaos fading into the background.

“A little,” he admits, leaning casually against the wall, as if he’s got all the time in the world. “But don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound surprising even yourself. There’s something about his easygoing manner that puts you at ease, just for a moment. “I appreciate that.”

“Y/N Y/L/N, right?” He asks, and you’re caught off guard that he knows your name.

“That’s me,” you reply, slipping into the role of interviewer as best as you can. “Congratulations on P2, by the way. How was the race for you?”

He glances at you, and for a brief second, his expression changes. It’s subtle — almost imperceptible — but it’s there. Something shifts in his eyes, something that makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Thanks,” he says, but the word comes out softer than you expect. There’s a pause, a moment of hesitation, before he continues. “The race was … it was intense. But honestly? Standing here right now … it feels like something else is happening.”

You frown slightly, not understanding. “What do you mean?”

Lando looks at you again, more intently this time, and you’re acutely aware of the way your pulse is thumping in your ears. “Look around,” he murmurs, his voice low, as if he’s sharing a secret. “Do you see anything different?”

You blink, confused. You glance around, expecting to see the same monotone world you’ve always known, the same dull shades of gray. But instead … you see it. A soft glow in the distance, a faint tinge of color in the sky.

It’s … blue.

A gasp escapes your lips before you can stop it. “What …”

Lando steps closer, his expression as bewildered as yours. “You see it too, don’t you?”

“I-I don’t understand,” you stammer, your heart racing even faster now. “This can’t be real. I’ve never seen color before.”

“Neither have I,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “But … I’m seeing it now. Because of you.”

The air around you feels electric, charged with something you can’t quite name. Your eyes lock onto his, and suddenly, the world isn’t gray anymore. It’s alive with hues and shades that you’ve only ever imagined. His eyes, a stunning shade of fluid green, meet yours with the same wonder.

“This can’t be real,” you repeat, more to yourself than to him. You’re trying to make sense of the impossible, of the vivid blues and greens and reds that are slowly seeping into your vision, like the world is waking up from a long sleep.

Lando reaches out, his hand hovering near yours, not quite touching. There’s a vulnerability in his gaze that’s startling — like he’s just as unsure of what’s happening as you are. “I think …” he starts, then stops, swallowing hard before trying again. “I think it’s because we’re soulmates.”

“Soulmates?” You echo, the word feeling foreign on your tongue. You’ve heard the stories, the myths — how the world is black and white until you meet the person you’re meant to be with.

But it’s just that, isn’t it? A myth? A fairytale? With over 8 billion people on Earth, the chances of actually meeting your fated match are slim-to-none. Most of the population has grown to accept that they will never see anything other than black and white.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “That’s what they say, right? You don’t see color until you meet your soulmate. But I never thought it’d actually happen. Not like this.”

You’re silent for a moment, trying to process it all. The colors, the implications, the fact that this person — this stranger — is suddenly supposed to mean everything to you. It’s overwhelming.

“I don’t even know you,” you whisper, voicing your fears. “How can we be soulmates if we don’t even know each other?”

Lando’s smile is small, almost shy. “I guess we’ll have to change that, won’t we?”

The words are simple, but they carry a weight that you’re not sure you’re ready to bear. But when he looks at you like that, with such sincerity, you find yourself nodding.

“Yeah,” you agree softly. “I guess we will.”

He takes a step closer, and this time, his hand does brush against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You feel it in every nerve, every inch of your being. It’s like the world has shifted on its axis, and you’re standing at the center of something much bigger than yourself.

“Can I ask you something?” Lando’s voice is quiet, almost tentative.

“Of course,” you reply, your voice just as soft.

“What’s your favorite color?”

The question catches you off guard. It’s such a simple thing, and yet, in this moment, it feels like the most important question in the world. You look around, taking in the colors that are now flooding your vision — the vibrant greens of the trees in the distance, the deep blues of the sky, the bright reds and yellows of the cars and team logos.

“I don’t know,” you admit, and the honesty of it feels right. “I’ve never had a favorite color before.”

Lando smiles, a real smile this time, and it’s like the sun breaking through the clouds. “Pretty sure I’m legally obligated to say mine’s papaya,” he laughs, and you notice it for the first time — the vibrant hue of his team’s colors, standing out against the grayscale world you’ve known until now. “I think you’ll like it.”

You smile back at him, feeling the connection between you deepening with every passing second. It’s terrifying, and exhilarating, and everything in between.

“I think I might,” you say, and the words are full of a promise that you’re not sure you fully understand yet, but that feels right nonetheless.

For a moment, the world falls away, and it’s just the two of you, standing there in a kaleidoscope of color that’s bursting into life all around you. The roar of the engines, the clamor of the crowd — it all fades into the background as you look at each other, truly seeing each other for the first time.

“So … what happens now?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando’s hand tightens around yours, and there’s a steadiness in his gaze that grounds you. “We take it one step at a time,” he says. “We get to know each other. And we see where this goes.”

The simplicity of his words is comforting. There’s no grand declaration, no rush to figure everything out. Just a promise to take things as they come, to let whatever this is between you grow naturally, in its own time.

“I’d like that,” you say, and you mean it.

He grins, that boyish charm back in full force, and you can’t help but smile in return. “Good,” he says. “Because I think we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other.”

There’s a warmth in his tone that makes your heart skip a beat, and for the first time since this whole whirlwind began, you find yourself excited about the future — about the possibility of what’s to come.

“Yeah,” you reply, your smile widening. “I think we are.”

And as you stand there, hand-in-hand with Lando Norris, surrounded by the vibrant colors of a world that’s finally come to life, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this is where you were always meant to be.