#their relationship is just so defined by them being apart

[tkwrites]

An Infinite Kind of Love - A 300 follower celebration fic - Matthew Tkachuk x ofc

Photo from Pinterest

Title: An Infinite Kind of Love

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Pre-established: Matthew Tkachuk x Sophie (ofc)

Warnings: Other than mentions of a not great biological father, it’s all fluff. 

Summary: Matthew and Sophie get married! 

Word count: 3,800

Comments: I hit 300 followers way back on July 12 and set up this poll to determine the fic I would write in celebration. We’d just passed the 4th of July, and I had a very specific idea for Matthew and Sophies wedding because of it. 

This fic has actually been finished for about 3 weeks, but I was worried people would be upset if I posted it before the latest Quinn and Sarah Snapshot went up. So, here it is. 

I hope you enjoy seeing Matthew and Sophie get married! If you did, please consider commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. I love hearing your thoughts about my writing!

Also we're just going to pretend the suit in this photo is navy because I couldn't find a photo of Matthew in a navy suit other than last years NHL Awards suit, which is not a suit for a wedding.

An Infinite Kind of Love

A Matthew and Sophie Fic

“Can someone get Matthew?” Sophie asked. 

“Of course.” Taryn darted out to run across the courtyard. 

When she got back to the suite, Matthew was running in after her. 

Gwen was naked to the waist and yelped. 

He slapped a hand over his eyes. “Sorry! Sorry! Soph?”

She rushed to him, pulling him out onto the balcony. “It's safe,” she said, nudging his hand down. 

The late afternoon sun turned her into nothing more than a silhouette. He had to blink a few times before she came into focus. She'd changed from the short ivory colored dress she'd worn to brunch into a set of loose satin pajamas. Her hair was in rollers, and even with brows that looked too heavy without the rest of her makeup done, she still looked beautiful. 

“What's wrong?” he asked, his hands automatically going to her arms, rubbing up and down. He didn't think it would actually happen, but thoughts of her calling off the wedding had still weaseled their way into the back of his mind when Taryn raced into the groom's room telling him Sophie wanted to see him. 

“Nothings wrong,” she said, looking into his face. Despite only wearing a t-shirt and shorts, he looked fresh faced, and handsome. He and the boys had gone to the barber shop after brunch, and they'd done his hair so his curls were perfectly set and defined. It took all her willpower to not run her fingers through them. They’d also given him a straight edge shave, and she could tell how soft his cheeks would be without even touching them. 

She preferred a bit of scruff on him, but he'd insisted he'd rather be clean shaven, saying he didn't want to look like a Muppet on their wedding day.

“Plus,” he'd said with a mischievous glint in his eye, “don't want to give you any beard burn,” before rubbing her cheek with his stubbled jaw.

She’d laughed and told him she didn’t mind. 

“What's up?” he asked now, looking relieved. 

“I just wanted to see you,” she said, stepping into him and wrapping her arms around his chest. 

As his arms enclosed around her, she felt his chuckle at the same time she heard it. 

“I missed you, too,” he said. With the rollers, he couldn’t tuck his face into her hair the way he liked to. He settled for resting his lips on her forehead. 

“For being our wedding day, we don't see very much of each other,” she said.

While they’d had a brunch with many of their wedding guests before coming to the ceremony venue to get ready, they’d slept apart the night before and spent much of the morning away from each other. Then, they were supposed to be apart until the first look and the ceremony. It felt incongruous. This was a celebration of their union. Shouldn't they be together?  

“I know. It's bullshit,” he whispered. 

“What aftershave did they use?” she asked. He smelled fresh like cut grass and mountain air. 

“I'm not sure. I picked it because I thought you'd like it.”

The simpleness of the act and of his thoughtfulness made her a little weak in the knees. “It smells really nice.”

Matthew closed his eyes, drinking in the feel of her body pressed to his, her breath on his neck and her nose in the soft spot under his jaw. Knowing that he'd picked right made pride swell in his chest.

“I'll ask them and get some,” he said. 

Pulling back, she leaned up to kiss him. 

It wasn't anything extravagant. It wasn't a kiss that made him break into a hot sweat or one that brought him to his knees. It was loving and soft. There was tongue, because with Sophie, there was always a little tongue. 

They kissed a few more times before she pulled away to find a look of adoration on his handsome face as he smiled down at her. 

Caught in the moment, they stayed that way for a few beats longer, just staring at each other until someone cleared their throat.

In the back of her mind, Sophie knew they were all in the room, but it was still a bit shocking when they looked over to find all her bridesmaids, both of their moms and the wedding photographer all gathered around the balcony door. 

“You guys are so cute,” Gwen gushed. 

There wasn't much about their wedding that was traditional. Instead of the usual noon, 2 or 5 o'clock ceremonies, their ceremony was set to begin at 8:30 so it would be dark enough by the time they kissed. They served a cocktail hour with food before the ceremony, at which the bridal party, minus the bride, mingled. After the vows, they were headed to a late-night reception with food trucks, cocktails, and partying. 

With 20 minutes to go before the ceremony, they all snuck off to a more secluded part of the garden. The groomsmen insisted they wanted to do a first look with Sophie. It turned into a whole thing: groomsmen along with Keith and her stepdad Greg. Then Matthew would come in and join them to get his own first look.

Sophie was hidden behind a trellis in another part of the garden with both of their moms and her bridesmaids. 

Her mom grabbed her hand to stop her from nervously pulling at her dress, and Sophie felt butterflies attack her stomach. 

Before the bridesmaids went out to join the guys, Taryn wrapped her in a tight hug. When they parted, she held Sophie at arms length to look her over. “Matthew’s gonna shit himself,” she said, tone full of a kind of teasing approval Sophie never experienced until she’d met Matthew. Their family teased, but mostly, it was all in good fun. It was rarely the kind of needling teasing she got from her dad as a child.

Once she’d tried it on for the first time, Sophie couldn’t stop thinking about Matthew seeing her in this dress. She’d had it custom-made, pieces of a few dresses stolen and sewn together to make exactly what she’d wanted. The bodice had a plunging neckline that narrowed between her breasts, so it wasn’t all that scandalous and floral embroidery that cascaded down onto the A-line skirt. It was simple and understated, just left of center enough to make it unique and just off white enough to be flattering. If the color were a little darker, it might be called blush.

She knew Matthew would love it because she loved it. That was just the kind of guy he was. But Taryn’s reaction still made her insides fizz like champagne. 

Upon a prompt from their wedding planner, Sophie walked out. 

The groomsmen were lined up, facing away from her.

They turned around when the photographer, who was standing off to the side with full view of everyones reactions, gave the signal.

As Sophie watched, a broad grin spread over every face. Greg and Keith both started crying, which she hadn’t expected. Keith pulled his glasses off so he could wipe his eyes. 

Greg rushed forward to gather her into a hug. His chest shook with sobs as he whispered, “thank you for letting me be here.”

“You’re the best dad, Greg. I’m so glad you’re here.” 

“Matthew’s one lucky son of a bitch,” he said, wiping his eyes. “I’m so proud of you.” 

She hugged him again, squeezing extra tight. 

Her brother followed. “You're so pretty, Soph,” he said.  

“You look really handsome in your suit,” she said, wiping at her own tears that had finally spilled over. 

He worked his thumbs under his suspenders and puffed out his chest. 

Their laughter was loud and raucous as she struck a pose of her own. 

When it was his turn, Keith gathered her into his barrel chest and lifted her off the ground in a bear hug.

She let out a surprised little squeak and giggled as her feet kicked out behind her.

“I don’t know —” Keith had to stop to wipe his eyes again after he set her back down, “I don’t know what Matthew did to get on your good side, but I’m sure glad he did.” 

“You raised a good man,” she said, patting him on the chest as they parted, “that’s what he did.” 

He gave her a watery smile and went back to Chantal and Taryn, slinging an arm around each of them.

“Matthew’s gonna lose his mind,” Sam whispered in her ear as they hugged.

She giggled, hoping he was right. 

And finally (finally, finally!), Matthew was walking down the garden path next to Brady, looking as nervous and excited as she felt and so handsome in his navy blue suit. He had his Louis Vuitton belt on. Even though she thought it was a little distracting to wear to a wedding, he insisted it was his signature piece and couldn’t go without it. She found an indulgent smile on her face, glad he was wearing something he loved so much. At least she’d convinced him to wear real dress shoes and not those ridiculous mules he’d been sporting to the arena all season. 

Sophie came into view, and all at once, Matthew felt tears sting his eyes. He’d known he would cry. He knew there was no hope of stopping it. He loved her so much, and this whole day had him all discombobulated. This wasn’t even the first time he’d cried, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. 

After today, he would be her husband. Her husband. He would be her husband, and she would be his wife.  And —

She was wearing the most beautiful dress he’d ever seen. Simple and elegant and completely Sophie. A strong pang of longing, love, and nostalgia pulled through him when he realized her lips were even painted the same pink they had been on their first date. 

She was perfect.

“Oh my god,” he said, awestruck as they joined the group. 

She knew he would probably do that no matter what she was wearing, but it still felt good. 

Brady stepped forward and gathered her into a hug. “You look beautiful, Soph,” he said before going to stand with Emma, wiping a few tears from his eyes as he leaned down to whisper to her about how much this reminded him of their own wedding. 

Finally standing in front of her, Matthew was at a loss for words. Eventually, he just said the thing that kept running through his mind. “Holy Shit.”

Everyone around them laughed. 

Matthew continued to stare silently as everyone else headed back to start ushering the guests into the ceremony seats. 

“I don’t…” he paused, trying to articulate the words. He wasn’t sure there were words for what he was feeling. “Fuck.” 

She burst into laughter. “Is that good? Or bad?” 

“Good,” he said, half of his mouth tipping up in a smile. “You’re –” he blinked a few times, “you’re so pretty, Sophie.”

Heat flushed into her cheeks. “Thank you. I think you look really handsome.” 

“You don’t mind the belt?” he asked, tone and eyes teasing as he hooked his thumbs behind it. 

“Nope,” she stepped forward and threw her arms around his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he said into her hair, getting a mouth full of hairspray. He turned to lay his cheek against it instead. 

“I can’t believe it’s finally here.” 

“I know,” she whispered. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket at the same time he saw her mom walking down the path that led from the ceremony. 

“It’s time for me to go,” he whispered. 

Tightening her arms around him, she resisted nuzzling into his shirt, knowing she’d get makeup all over the starched white material. 

“I’ll see you in a minute,” she said, pulling back to look into his face. 

He dipped down to drop a quick kiss to her lips. “See you in a minute, my betrothed.”

He’d started calling her that after some venue asked him if he and “his betrothed” would be attending a catering tasting together. 

“Soon not to be,” she said with a wink. 

He laughed, stole another quick kiss, and hugged her mom before jogging to meet Brady, who was waiting at the end of the path. 

Sophie asked her mom to walk her down the aisle. She thought the idea of a man giving a woman away was archaic anyway, but especially after her dad left, she vowed never to have a man walk her down the aisle at her wedding. 

So when the music started to play for their bridal party, an instrumental version of Here Comes the Sun — requested by Matthew because he called Sophie his ray of sunshine and they were heralding her entrance — she and her mom walked to the end of the pathway that was serving as their aisle. 

Everything looked beautiful. Matthew was standing with their officiant — someone he grew up with who was now a pastor — under a large trellis, covered in a vine of blooming jasmine. The small white flowers (another reason her dress couldn’t be white) stood out against the mens dark suits and the lilac of the bridesmaids' dresses. Everything was bathed in the gentle golden glow of the candles, lanterns, and fairy lights strewn throughout the garden. It was like walking into a dream.

The song she would walk down the aisle to began, it’s jazzy, guitar playing softly from the speakers hidden around their guests. 

The officiant instructed everyone to stand, and they did, turning to look at her, as she and her mom stopped at the end of the sidewalk. 

While everyone looked at her, she looked at Matthew. Watching his smile and his breathless excitement as she made her way to him. He was even bouncing on the balls of his feet. Her own heart ticked in her ears, and she concentrated on the song lyrics in an effort to keep herself from running to him. 

When we were strangers I watched you from afar When we were lovers I loved you with all my heart But now it's getting late And the moon is climbing high I wanna celebrate See it shining in your eyes Because I'm still in love with you I wanna see you dance again Because I'm still in love with you On this harvest moon

Watching Sophie walk down the aisle, her lips painted the same color pink they were on their first date, it felt a little like watching her walk through their history. He was outrageously glad to be on this side of it, having won her trust and love and finding himself in a situation where he had the chance to be with her forever. 

Her mom hugged her and went to sit with Greg. 

Sophie took the last three steps to stand in front of Matthew by herself. She was ready to take this last leap, eager to no longer do this life on her own.

The officiant invited everyone to sit and began talking about matrimony. She missed most of the speech, too busy thinking about the vows she’d written and watching Matthew. The navy suit made his eyes a deeper shade of blue than usual. 

Finally, after what felt to Matthew like forty minutes, though it couldn’t have been more than five, they were invited to read the vows they’d written. 

“When we agreed to write our own vows, I made Soph promise to let me go first so I didn’t have the pressure of trying to follow her.”

Sophie and the crowd laughed. Matthew noticed his mom wipe a tear from her cheek. His dad put an arm around her. 

Taking in a deep breath, Matthew closed his eyes for a moment before looking back to the printed piece of paper Brady had handed him. 

“Sophie,” he began. His voice wobbled a little. The way she was looking at him made him feel light-headed. The culmination of the day coming together and seeing her looking so beautiful in her dress was too much. Truth be told, he was a bit shocked he was even still standing. 

She took his free hand, and the grounding in her touch centered his breathing.

He looked at her and began again.  

“Sophie, if I tried to articulate all the ways I love you, I’m pretty sure we’d be here for several days because I don’t think I could ever find the right words.” 

The audience awed. 

“So instead of that, I wrote down some of the things I love about you, and what I’ll try to be for you, and you’ll just have to put up with the words I’ve got.” 

She snorted, and he heard Brady laugh behind him. 

“So here goes. I love that you make me quiet.” 

Tears pressed behind her eyes. She hadn’t expected him to go for the jugular right off the bat. 

“Most people know I have a pretty hard time shutting up,” he paused, listening to his dad laugh, “but you taught me the value in quiet moments, and I love that I fell in love with you in them. I love that I get a side of you no one else does, and I love that you trust me enough to show it to me.” 

A few tears leaked out and slid down her cheeks. Gwen slipped a tissue into her hand, and Sophie smiled gratefully, pressing it to her lashes to stop her mascara from running.

“I love that you love my family and that I feel like I could be with you forever, and we would never get bored. I love that we’ve created our own little ecosystem and that it thrives because we’re both invested and working on it.” 

His mom was crying into a handkerchief.  

“I can’t promise that I’ll always be this good looking.” 

The suddenness of the joke made Sophie bark out a sudden laugh, much too loud over the amplification system. Her hand slapped over her mouth to quiet the sound, and he laughed indulgently, as if that was the exact reaction he’d been going for. 

“But what I can promise is this: that I’ll always try to protect you, except when it comes to spiders.” He paused for the laughter to die down, “That I’ll always do my best to be present when I’m home, and that I’ll always listen to and help you achieve your dreams. Most of all, I promise that I won’t ever stop trying to earn and deserve your trust and love.”

He folded the paper up. His mom was crying, as was Emma. He was pretty certain Taryn would be tearing up, too, but he couldn’t see her with the way the bridal party was standing. He wanted to end it in some fancy way like he knew she would, but he didn’t know how, other than to say, “I love you and I can’t wait to start this new chapter with you.”

Sophie wiped her nose and dabbed at the tears in her eyes. “I love you, too.”

She sniffed and swallowed, trying to get her bearings.

“Matthew always tries to tell me he isn’t good with words,” Sophie said, giving him a wry look as her fingers squeezed around his, “but I think you all can be the judge of that.” 

He laughed. 

She coughed gently to get some of the tears out of her voice. “When I started writing my vows, I couldn’t think of anything but love. I’ve been trying to understand it my whole life. When I was a kid, I thought I had to parcel out my love to make sure it didn’t run out, and other people had to do the same. Matthew, although you didn’t teach me that there’s an infinite amount of love in the world, you did prove that infinite love exists in a way I had never experienced before with a man.” 

Now he was crying. 

“I’ve always felt a little on my own,” she explained, “a little too quirky to be loved in that big infinite way.” 

The audience was listening, wrapt. This was exactly why he didn’t want to go after her. Not only would he be a mess, there would be no way he could possibly follow her words.

“The last thing I expected in life was for this muscle-bound, curly-haired, rough and tumble hockey player to not only understand my quirks but to embrace and encourage them.” Her voice trembled. “I’m forever grateful I can take down my walls with you, Matthew.”

He took the tissue Brady handed him, unashamed, and wiped the tears from his eyes. 

“And for your patience and consistency, even when I can be skittish and uptight.” She paused, listening to her half of the audience twitter.

“I promise I’ll kill the spiders,” she said, and he laughed along with the rest of their guests. “And I promise to never be unreasonably jealous of your job. But most of all, I promise to always be honest and to love you in the infinite way you showed me was possible.” 

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to lean in and just lay one on her. Tradition be damned. He pressed his mouth to hers, mumbling how much he loved her against her lips. When he pulled back, her eyes told him how much she loved him in return.

The officiant led them through the traditional “til death do us part” stuff, and they exchanged rings. It was a strange thing to feel the weight of the band on his finger, but Matthew had never been so glad to have something tying him down. It felt like he might just float away without it. 

“You may now kiss the bride,” the officiant said with a wide smile. 

Matthew’s hand slipped up to cradle her jaw, and he looked into her eyes as the fingers on her left hand tapped out five beats on the back of his arm. 

And just like they rehearsed, just like they planned, just like Ryan said it would happen, the moment their lips touched, fireworks screeched to life behind them, screaming into the sky and exploding in a fan of sparks and color and sound. 

It was perfect. 

It was this video, first showing their faces as they looked adoringly at each other and then cutting back to catch the fireworks igniting the moment they kissed, that Matthew shared on his Instagram. 

It’s been fireworks from the first kiss, and we’re still going strong. 

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[leafatlaw]

im having such a hard time making this keeperschampion webweave because im like trying to capture all facets of their relationship but thats like... hard

[saintobio]

sincerely yours. (11)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after. 

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+ 

tags/warnings. depression, cheating, trauma, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationships

notes. 12k wc. we're so close to the finale <3 thanks so much for the continued support and for the patience you guys have with this series :')

series masterlist -> episode twelve

For better and worse. 

Weddings are funny things. Despite the strict adherence to ceremonial traditions, they didn’t guarantee a happily ever after. Exchanging vows and the signing of marriage certificates could become meaningless when a couple faces challenges that would drive them apart. Consider the high-profile divorces of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, Jennifer Garner and Ben Affleck, or Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise. Divorce had become so common that it almost seemed inevitable for many couples, even the ones with the most fairytale-like relationships. No one was safe from the idea of a divorce. So, was having a wedding really that important? Would it really define the quality and longevity of a relationship?

Satoru might have been thinking bitterly about it, given that his own marriage wasn’t exactly a shining success. However, he was also being rational when he said that weddings weren’t necessary to prove your love for each other. Early in his marriage, he certainly wasn’t the best husband, but over time, he learned to genuinely become a good partner to his ex-wife. There was no specific time frame for loving someone. You could be together for weeks, months, or years, yet the depth of love you share might remain unchanged. This constancy can be either a blessing or a curse, depending on how deep your love was from the beginning.

Well… On the topic of marriages, Satoru had no good thing to say. But that didn’t mean he shouldn’t participate in it. Weddings were still considered a special celebration for families and close friends, and He would be selfish not to share in such a beautiful event with his best friends. Besides, wasn’t it always expected that Suguru and Shoko would end up marrying each other? They were lucky—fortunate because their marriage was built on a foundation of genuine love. In contrast, Satoru’s marriage began out of convenience, which ultimately led to all the terrible things that followed.

As the best man, Satoru strode confidently alongside Suguru down the aisle, both adorned in princely tuxedos, drawing the eyes of the guests as they followed their procession. There were teasing remarks, smiles all around, and even a comment from one of the groom’s female cousins about how handsome they both looked. Despite the gentle commotion, Satoru understood why Suguru remained nervous as they reached the end of the aisle. He comfortingly stood by his side, offered a reassuring pat on the back, silently communicating to his best friend that everything would be alright.

“Don’t tell me you’ll back out now,” Satoru jested, whispering in Suguru’s ear as they observed the guests entering in accordance with the processional order.

Suguru, with his once long hair now neatly trimmed and slicked back, cleared his throat in an attempt to appear less anxious. “What if she gets cold feet?” 

Gojou couldn’t help but tease. “Shoko? You really think she’d have cold feet?” he chuckled. “She’d be the one dragging your ass back to this garden if you tried to run away.”

“Fair enough.” 

Just the night before, they had checked into the Hoshinoya Fuji to celebrate Suguru's last night of freedom. While there was drinking involved, one of the groomsmen insisted it wouldn’t be a proper bachelor’s party without some female company. So, inevitably, there were women in the hotel room, one of whom even gave Suguru a lap dance even though he showed no interest whatsoever. It was amusing to Satoru, considering his best friend used to be the biggest casanova, and now he was a committed and loyal man who, not only was terrified out of his wits on his wedding day, but was also afraid that the one woman he loved might run away from him.

Such genuine, pure love. 

As Satoru pondered, his gaze landed on Akemi, who was seated a couple of rows back among the other guests. She had just arrived, her hair tied elegantly in a low ponytail and her silky sage dress accentuating her womanly figure flawlessly. She was wearing the diamond Tiffany & Co. earrings he had gifted her, which made her stand out among the rest of the people in that garden. Their eyes also met at the perfect moment, her gaze sparkling upon seeing Satoru in his tuxedo. He offered her a smile, one that silently conveyed ‘I’ll be there with you later,’ and she immediately understood. 

How fortunate was Satoru to have her? Perhaps the reason for her late appearance was because she had been looking after Sachiro back home, fulfilling the duties that his ex-wife should have been doing. She was truly a mother who stepped up, especially during a time when both he and his son felt most abandoned.

And what about you? Who knew if you would even attend the wedding? You were meant to be Ieiri’s maid-of-honor, yet you were conspicuously absent. Perhaps you were still in Monaco, enjoying your time playing house with Toji, making a wedding like this seem insignificant to you. You would have informed Miwa in advance and picked up Sachiro if you had returned to Tokyo, right? Suguru also hadn’t mentioned anything about your arrival at the accommodation, hinting that someone else would have to step in as Shoko's maid-of-honor.

But who would it be? Shoko’s cousin? One of her other female co-workers? Her high school friend? 

“Look, mom! She’s beautiful~”

Satoru was rendered speechless, utterly captivated by the sight before him. His fingers tingled with anticipation, his heart raced in his chest, his feet felt rooted to the ground, and his eyes remained fixed on the next lady gracefully making her way down the aisle. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what struck him the most: was it the sight of you in a stunning light green dress, resembling an angel descended from the heavens, or was it the haunting reminder of his own wedding day, when you walked down the same aisle as his most beautiful bride?

His breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening with each step you took down the aisle. Satoru felt like a statue, frozen in place, unable to tear his gaze away from you. You had become the sole focus of his attention, the rest of the world fading into a blur around him. He couldn’t comprehend it. Why was it so effortless for him to let his guard down around you?

This woman, he thought. This woman is Sachiro’s mother. This was the same woman that carried his flesh and blood for nine months, now appearing as radiant as a freshly bloomed flower, as if untouched by the stresses of unexpected motherhood. What had transpired in Monaco to transform you into this vision of beauty?

“You’re drooling.” Suguru nudged him on the chest. “This isn’t your wedding. You had your chance.” 

Yes, he was well aware. This wasn’t his wedding, and he needed to maintain composure. Yet, it felt as though he was being drawn inexorably towards the mesmerizing goddess before him. With each beat of his heart quickening, he struggled to remind himself: No, Satoru. She's nothing to you now.

And because he was lost in a trance, he remained oblivious to the bride’s entrance and even Suguru’s emotional reaction to seeing his bride. His attention was solely fixated on you as he stole glances your way whenever he could. It wasn’t until the exchanging of rings, when you two had to stand side by side to assist the bride and groom, that he snapped back to reality. With you so close yet seemingly distant, Satoru felt a pang of disappointment as you never returned his gaze. The whispers and side comments from the guests also added to his discomfort, making him acutely aware of the scrutiny placed upon the best man and maid-of-honor.

“Aren’t they divorced?”

“Yeah, their marriage was a wreck.” 

“They’re bad luck. I hope they don’t pass it onto the couple.”  

For the first time in a long time, Satoru was gripped by an unprecedented desire to retort, to refute the misconceptions surrounding his marriage. Yet, he knew it was futile. Engaging in a verbal sparring match with another guest would only ruin his best friends' special day. Moreover, he might risk causing unintentional hurt to Akemi by defending a marriage that had long ceased to exist. So, despite the internal turmoil, he remained silent, allowing the whispers to persist unchecked.

And, with that, the wedding ceremony ended. Shoko and Suguru were now declared husband and wife. 

— — 

The reception was a time for socializing, enjoying drinks and hors d’oeuvres, and congratulating the newlyweds. For Suguru and Shoko, this part of the celebration felt effortless and their energies were seamlessly complementing each other’s. Unlike arranged marriages, there was no sense of haste or coercion; theirs was a union born of genuine affection. You couldn’t help but feel foolish for ever entertaining the notion that this was merely a conventional wedding experience. Here, before your eyes, unfolded a true celebration of love between two people.

Did Satoru share the same sentiments? You wondered what thoughts raced through his mind during the proceedings. Did the event trigger memories of his own past, or stir feelings of longing for what could have been?

You refused to subject yourself to the torment of dwelling on your past. If anything, your time living alone in Monaco had been a crucial step in your healing journey. While the process was far from complete, that solitary retreat had provided a much-needed respite from the source of your stress. It afforded you the opportunity to contemplate the life you were destined to lead, albeit alone for the foreseeable future.

By allowing Sachiro to spend more time with his father, you not only facilitated the rebuilding of their fractured relationship, but also acclimated your child to your absence. It was a necessary adjustment, one that would prepare him for the reality of your impending solitary existence. At least, Sachiro had a chance to live in a loving household with Satoru and Akemi, instead of a miserable and lonely way of living together with you. 

In the end, it was all for your child. 

As for the potential emotional minefield of attending this wedding, you were there for Shoko, who had always been a steadfast and understanding presence in your life. Her genuine friendship meant more to you than mere familial bonds ever could. Even at the risk of stirring up unhealthy emotions by being in a room full of people who hurt you, you couldn’t bear to disappoint Ieiri. 

Admittedly though, navigating the wedding crowd was a delicate balance of warmth and formality. Ieiri’s side of the family, who were doctors heavily acquainted with your family, greeted you with genuine warmth. While Suguru’s relatives, who were more closely tied to the Gojou family, maintained a polite distance. Although there were occasional moments of discomfort, you knew how to maintain composure throughout. 

As for Toji’s absence, while a part of you wished he could have been there as a supportive presence, you also recognized the value in learning to handle situations involving your ex-husband independently. He had an unavoidable business trip, but that also provided an opportunity for you to stop relying on him and navigate such occasions like these on your own. He was nothing more than a friend now. 

While that ex-husband, Satoru, was here with your best friend. It didn’t surprise you that he had brought Akemi as a plus one. In fact, you had expected it to happen. It just wasn’t the best feeling to be the maid-of-honor when the best man clearly had another lady for it in mind. 

It was quite amusing, too. Not once had Akemi approached you during the reception. You understood that she wanted to keep her distance, but you found it disrespectful that she was ignoring your existence. Was she scared to talk to you? Scared of what you had to say? You had heard over a million hurtful things from other people, yet she was afraid to hear a few pieces of advice from you?  

Forget it. Forget her and Satoru. Focus on the reception, Y/N. 

But really, how could you? As the moment arrived for the newlyweds’ first dance, tradition dictated that the best man and maid-of-honor should also take to the floor. You sensed the tension in the air as Satoru hesitated, surrounded by urging groomsmen, deciding whether or not he should ask you for a dance. He looked like he was battling with what was right and wrong in his mind, yet ultimately he chose to pass by you, extending his hand to Akemi instead.

It wasn’t feelings of shame that slapped you to reality. It was seeing Satoru holding Akemi’s hand, another on her waist, as they slowly danced to Can’t Help Falling In Love, a song that was played on your wedding day. 

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

Oh, for I can’t help

Falling in love with you

It shouldn’t hurt anymore. You were doing better. You were doing so good, you were doing… you were okay. You should be okay. Or did you overestimate your emotions a little too much? Because this, seeing the man you loved with all your heart holding another woman in his arms, was tortuous to your soul. You could feel the pains of your past tugging at your heart, wondering why he never danced like that with you on your wedding day? Why he never stared at you like you were the most beautiful girl in the world, why he never showed you off in a room full of curious people, why he never respected you enough to treat you with such… with such love. 

“Everything okay?”

You didn’t expect Nanami, out of all people, to be offering you a handkerchief. You hadn’t even realized that your eyes were already pooling of the tears if he had not cut you out of trance, offering a comforting and sympathetic smile. You had to blink multiple times just to push your tears back in. 

“Yeah,” you answered with a grateful expression. I’m strong. I’ll be fine. “Thank you.” 

Nanami took that as a sign to offer his hand. “Care for a dance, then?” 

Wiping your eyes, you nodded, smiling at the man. “Why not?” 

After the dance, the reception continued as follows. The cake cutting, the dinner service, then the toasts and speeches. If it wasn’t for Nanami, you wouldn’t have been able to pick yourself back up after the humiliation of seeing Satoru and Akemi dancing together. You just needed a decent amount of air to breathe and gather yourself together again. It was a nice help from someone who wasn’t a personal acquaintance of yours, that despite being Satoru’s right hand man in the company, Nanami still had some kindness in him that you would forever be thankful for. 

And when it was time for you to do your speech as the MOH, you didn’t let a single vulnerable emotion slip out of you. For that short moment, you tried not to think about who was in the audience, about what they thought of you, and about what other preconceived notions they had of you. You focused on the newlyweds as you stood in front of the mic stand, eye-to-eye with Shoko and Suguru, who were holding each other’s hands. 

“Shoko,” you began, smiling genuinely at the couple, “Through the laughter and tears, you’ve been my constant, my confidante, my rock. And today, as I watch you embark on this new chapter of your life, I’m honestly a bit overwhelmed with emotion.” 

The bride returned your smile, and you can tell Shoko was holding back tears of her own as she glanced between you and Satoru. 

You continued your speech, observing Suguru’s supportive gesture towards his wife as you spoke. “Shoko, I recall our late-night conversations, the tears shed over broken marriages, and the pain of shattered relationships. Yet, through it all, you’ve remained steadfast in your belief in love, in hope, in the possibility of a happily ever after.” Turning to Suguru, although he still had that lingering discomfort around you, you offered him nothing but heartfelt words. “As I look at you and Suguru, I’m reminded that true love exists—a love that is patient, kind, and enduring. My wish for you both is a lifetime filled with laughter, joy, and unwavering support for each other. May you cherish each other’s hearts, protect each other’s dreams, and weather life’s storms together, stronger in your love. Suguru, during your challenging days as a married couple, I pray that you always look at Shoko and remember why you love her. I pray that you will always have the capacity to cherish and respect her as your wife and the future mother of your children. May you keep her in your heart, no matter what challenges may come your way.”

As tears welled in Ieiri’s eyes, your voice faltered, the magnitude of your wishes for their marriage weighing heavily on your own unfulfilled desires. You weren’t trying to make this about you, and you hoped they thought that, too. 

“As I raise my glass to toast this beautiful union,” you said, raising the champagne glass on your hand, “I do so with a heart full of love and a silent prayer—that your love story will be one of triumph, of healing, and of endless happiness. Congratulations, Shoko and Suguru!”

— —

Satoru was deeply affected by your speech. Both in good and bad ways. On one hand, he was touched by the sincerity of your words and the genuine wishes you extended to the newlywed couple. On the other hand, he couldn’t shake off the pang of guilt and remorse that accompanied your words, knowing all too well the history behind them. When you expressed your hopes for Suguru to always cherish and respect Shoko, Satoru couldn’t help but reflect on his own behavior during your marriage and the ways in which he may have fallen short.

Each action he did definitely had a lasting impact on you. 

But what about the good ones? Had you forgotten about the times he treated you well? Had you forgotten the lengths he took just to prove to you that he was a changed man? That at one point in his life, he would do everything in him just to show you how much he loved you? 

It was unfair. Why did you only ever look at the bad things he did and never the good ones? Why did you still see him as a villain in your marriage when he knew he had paid his dues after he lost you?

It was truly, honestly unfair, that you get to be happy with Toji, but he ought to feel guilty for being with Akemi. 

“I think they’re about to do the bouquet and garter toss,” spoke Akemi, tugging at Satoru’s arm while they sat on their designated table. She held a napkin on her other hand to wipe her partner’s chin, smiling in excitement. “You should go and join.” 

Where were you? After your speech, Satoru couldn’t seem to find you anymore. Where had you gone off to? Did you leave already? 

“Y-Yeah,” Satoru answered, looking around the venue before turning to Akemi. “What about you? Won’t you join the bouquet toss thing?” 

She shook her head, hesitantly. “Isn’t it only for bridesmaids?” 

He grabbed her hand and urged her up. “No, it’s for all unmarried female guests. Come on.” 

The reason Satoru dragged her along was because Akemi loved weddings, and she especially enjoyed the traditions that came with it. She herself once dreamt about the picture perfect wedding, but never got to fully have her own, so attending such occasions made up for the lack of personally experiencing it. 

Gojou couldn’t exactly remember if he did the garter toss in his own wedding. If so, who had caught it? Who had caught your bouquet? His eyes swept across the entire venue once more, searching for your familiar figure among the guests. He was too occupied to realize that Shoko had already tossed her bouquet, and the frenzy of eager ladies ensued until it landed in Akemi’s hands.

He genuinely felt happy for Akemi. The joy in her eyes upon catching Shoko’s bouquet was unmistakable. Yet, as the playful teasing about a potential wedding for him shifted in his direction, Satoru couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pressure. It wasn’t supposed to weigh on him like this. It was too soon to have that expectation of him. 

“Looks like someone’s getting married next!”

And while he was feeling suffocated from the pressure placed upon him, the receiver of the tossed garter happened to have been Nanami. 

Immediately, the teasing ensued, with the other guests urging Nanami to wear the garter on Akemi’s leg. Out of respect, Nanami looked at Gojou for permission, but honestly? He was just grateful he didn’t have to do all that and be pressured about another wedding that he had not yet thought about. Fuck it, thank God Nanami had caught the garter because Satoru was sure as hell starting to feel uneasy there. 

“Go for it,” was the only thing Satoru said to Nanami, gesturing his chin at Akemi’s direction. 

While everyone was focused on the situation between Nanami and Akemi, Satoru took that opportunity to escape from the crowd and find his peace at the balcony. He hastily made his way out of the reception hall, feeling a sense of relief as he could finally breathe. 

And there you were, standing alone, lost in contemplation, and your gaze fixed upon the tranquil expanse of the lakeside. The chill breeze caressed your hair softly, as if mirroring the calm that enveloped your countenance. In another universe, this would have been an opportune moment to hug you from behind, sharing the warmth of his embrace around your figure. But he was living in a universe where you and him weren’t meant to be together.

In fact, you were probably thinking about another man as you stared at the lake, hoping that he was there with you. 

“Did you have fun in Monaco with Toji?” Satoru was crazy for going straight to the point, and he knew it was a blunt inquiry, bordering on intrusive, but it tumbled out nonetheless, revealing the thoughts that had been plaguing in his mind. His words spilled out before he could rein them in, a question born of curiosity and perhaps a touch of jealousy.

As for you, with your peace in the balcony now ruined, you briefly opened your mouth to respond, but held back against it as you met Gojou’s eyes with a distant stare. You were even quick to look away and sigh, like he was not worth the conversation. You had not spoken a word to him since the wedding ceremony and you were definitely going to keep doing it. 

And man, did that hurt his ego. 

So, for a very stupid reason, he felt the need to hurt yours in return. “Do you know Sachi calls Akemi ‘mama’ in his sleep?” 

Your eyes remained empty. “Good for you, then. You won’t have a hard time getting him accustomed to it.” 

“Y/N.” Satoru’s voice came out as a warning, and he was about to start an argument on why you were abandoning him and Sachi over Toji, but he was interrupted at the appearance of Akemi carrying Shoko’s bouquet as she tried to search for her lover. This meant that the conversation with the ex-wife was over.

But as he glanced between you and Akemi, his bitter past and his sweet present, why did Satoru’s heart still lingered with you when it shouldn’t?

“You should go,” you briefly muttered, walking in the opposite direction, “Your future wife’s looking for you.”

Satoru’s sudden grip on your wrist halted your steps abruptly. His voice carried a bitter edge as he reminded you of the agreement you had made. “Y/N, we agreed to co-parent Sachiro properly. Why are you choosing Toji over your own son?” 

The accusation left a tense atmosphere, eliciting a sharp response from you as you yanked your hand away, a flash of anger igniting in your eyes. “You have no idea what you're talking about, Satoru.”

— —

“Welcome to Hoshinoya Fuji, Ms. L/N!” 

You stepped out of the car, taking in the serene beauty of the lakeside cabin that would be your sanctuary for the next three days and two nights. Nestled among towering pines and sturdy oaks, the cabin exuded a rustic charm that blended seamlessly with the natural landscape. Its weathered wooden exterior, adorned with a green tin roof, seemed to have grown organically from the earth itself.

The cabin sat on a gentle slope that led directly to the water’s edge. A wooden deck wrapped around the front, offering a perfect vantage point for gazing out over the tranquil lake. Your room also had the best view of Mount Fuji, which you thought was the highlight of this luxurious accommodation. 

After the newlywed send-off, you were quickly ushered in by Shoko and Suguru’s staff, who were in charge of attending to the special guests staying a few extra days at the cabin. Though the couple wouldn’t start their proper honeymoon until their 6-month long cruise trip in two weeks, they wanted their guests to enjoy the accommodations they had arranged. You were relieved to hear that, despite Satoru and Akemi also being among the friends staying, each guest had their own private cabin reserved.

The thing was, you could leave any time if you wanted to. Shoko also reassured you that it would be okay and that she would understand if you wanted to go home right away. She knew that the situation may be uncomfortable for you, and that she felt bad you even had to deal with it during the ceremony, but you made a promise to her. You were her maid-of-honor for a reason, and part of your duty was to help with the post-ceremony tasks to ensure that Shoko can focus on enjoying her pre and post-wedding activities. 

So, in some ways, you felt obliged to stay. You didn’t need to interact much with others during your stay, anyway. You were content staying in your room, perhaps taking some occasional walks outside. Satoru could do whatever he wanted with Akemi; you were determined to avoid crossing their paths.

Besides, inside the cabin was a cozy retreat. The main living area featured large windows that framed the picturesque view, allowing moonlight to spill in and illuminate the space. A stone fireplace, complete with a rustic mantel adorned with pinecones and candles, stood as the centerpiece of the room. Plush armchairs and a worn leather sofa invited relaxation, while a handwoven rug added a touch of warmth and color.

As you moved towards the bedroom, you found a comfortable queen-sized bed covered in a soft, plaid quilt. The scent of pine mingled with the faint aroma of fresh linens, creating an atmosphere of peaceful haven. An old-fashioned dresser and a bedside table, topped with a simple lamp, completed the room. The windows here, too, offered a glimpse of the sparkling lake, ensuring that the beauty of nature would greet you each morning.

Stepping outside, you walked down a short path to the water’s edge, where a small wooden dock extended into the lake. A pair of Adirondack chairs sat invitingly at the end of the dock, perfect for soaking in the sunset or stargazing at night. Nearby, a fire pit surrounded by stones and logs as seating promised cozy evenings under the stars, with the gentle sound of lapping water providing a soothing backdrop.

On your first night there, you ended up falling asleep right away. The physical and emotional exhaustion, combined with jetlag, knocked you out. However, the next day promised a few tasks to complete the post-wedding cleanup. 

The second night, however, was a different story.

When you returned to the cabin, the cool evening air was crisp against your skin. The temperature went down a couple of celsius compared to yesterday, so as you walked down the path toward the lakeside, you were drawn to the flickering glow of a fire pit illuminating the area near the water’s edge. Drawing closer, the soft sounds of laughter and conversation reached your ears, mingling with the gentle crackle of burning logs.

The fire pit was surrounded by a group, their faces lit by the warm, golden light of the flames. They sat on a circle of logs and foldable chairs, leaning in to feel the comforting heat. Some held mugs of steaming cocoa, while others toasted marshmallows on long sticks, their tips glowing bright orange before transforming into gooey, sugary treats.

You paused for a moment and took in the scene. Was it a safe space for you to be in? You noticed familiar faces among the group—some of the couple’s old friends from the wedding, now relaxed and enjoying the peaceful night. One of the guests strummed a guitar softly, the melody adding to the cozy, inviting atmosphere. Another guest told a story, their animated expressions and gestures causing bursts of laughter from the listeners.

There was no sight of Satoru and Akemi. Perhaps, it might be okay to join in.

As you approached, Suguru emerged from a nearby cabin, smiling in a way that felt unusual. Why was he being friendly all of a sudden? Last time you checked, he still held a grudge against you. But now, he showed no signs of antagonism, and was even approaching you with his usual friendly demeanor.

“Y/N,” he said, the fog of his breath visible in the cold air, “I never got to thank you properly for helping us with everything here. I didn’t think you’d make it last minute.”

You wrapped your shawl tighter around yourself to ward off the chill. “It’s no trouble. I’m glad to help out and be here for you guys,” you replied warmly. And while glancing around, you noticed the absence of Shoko. “Where’s the missus?”

Suguru’s smile took on a mischievous edge. “Sleeping. She’s still pretty tired and…”

You interrupted him with a laugh, catching onto his suggestive tone. “Alright, you two. You’re wild.”

His grin softened into a sincere expression. “No, seriously. I never got to properly thank you. I never got to apologize to you either.” Suguru looked down with guilt. “I’m sorry for being an asshole to you. I was focusing too much on Satoru’s point-of-view, dismissing how it must be like to be in your position amidst all that mess. Shoko helped me understand why you made certain decisions, why you had no other option. She helped me see things from your perspective, to realize the extent of your suffering. We all knew that, I guess. We all knew you were constantly dealt a bad hand, yet you remain kind and resilient. You continue to show empathy to others, even when the world hasn’t been fair to you.”

In the ensuing silence, your heart seemed to thunder in your chest. His words carried weight far beyond what he might have intended, and you genuinely appreciated his apology. Even if he didn’t need to say them. 

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, you’re a gem, Y/N.” Suguru gave your back a gentle pat. “You deserve to be happy in your own special way. And just like how you wished us well with our marriage, I hope you’ll find your own path to a happy marriage, too.” 

“Thank you,” you mumbled, looking down with a forlorn smile. 

“We’re here for you, okay?” he offered, “Shoko and I. You can count on us if you need us, if you need help with Sachiro, if you need help with life in general.” 

“I appreciate it, really.” 

And by then, he cleared his throat, opening up a topic that caught you off guard. You didn’t expect it from Suguru out of all people. “Y/N, I know why you were in Monaco.” 

Of course. He’d know it from Shoko. 

“I also know,” he continued, dark narrow eyes staring straight at yours, “why you left Sachiro with his father.” 

You were a deer caught in the headlights. You wouldn’t say it felt invasive to have someone be aware of the reasoning behind your personal decisions, but it was just an altogether different feeling to know that it was your ex-husband’s best friend who knew. 

“Why didn’t you tell him?” he asked, referring to Satoru, “That you broke up with Toji?” 

You took a deep breath. “I don’t see the point of telling him.”

“What if I were to tell you that he’d come running desperately to you the moment he finds out?” he posed another burning question. “You still love him, right? You and him would likely get together without much difficulty if he were aware. So, why hesitate?”

“Because I don’t want that,” you answered, feeling words caught in your throat in a moment of vulnerability. “Because I’m scared to get back with him. Because he has Akemi now. Because I don’t wanna keep ruining the lives of the people around me. We’re better off this way, Suguru. I don’t want to mess up the second time around, and I definitely don’t think Satoru would be able to fully move on with his life with me still in the picture. He seems to be happy with Akemi already.” 

Suguru smiled sadly. “You don’t even wanna get your revenge? Don’t wanna get back at your best friend for dating your ex?” he paused to correct himself, “Well, dating is the wrong term. Satoru insists they’re not exclusive, you know?” 

You shook your head, sighing. Satoru, you haven’t changed. “It doesn’t matter. I’m fine with the way things are.” 

He was on the verge of continuing, poised to persuade further, but the arrival of the very individuals in question brought an abrupt halt to his words. Descending the cabin steps was Shoko, trailed by Satoru, who, in a gesture of warmth, had draped his jacket around Akemi, with his arms encircling her.

All five of you found yourselves in an awkward situation, now faced with two couples, one of which was at the core of your distress. The tension was palpable, and it didn’t help that Satoru’s vivid blue eyes met yours, seemingly trying to decode the conversation between you and Suguru. That was none of his business. He could continue his affectionate display with Akemi, while you had other matters to attend to than be part of an awkward quintet.

“I should go,” you declared, avoiding eye contact with everyone, unwilling to play the fifth wheel. You were hoping to evade Satoru and Akemi’s presence, but both Shoko and Suguru already caught your arm. 

“Y/N, please,” Shoko urged, her arm reaching out to you. “Don't isolate yourself tonight. Come join us.”

The memory of Bora Bora flooded your mind, a painful reminder of a similar situation when Shoko had extended the same invitation, leading to the discomfort of witnessing Sera’s closeness with Satoru. You knew that wasn’t Shoko’s intention, but it was your ex-husband who couldn’t stop catching himself in these situations. 

This was a bad idea. You knew that. 

So, why did you agree? 

Despite your reservations, curiosity got the best of you. You would vehemently deny it if asked, but deep down, you pondered whether Suguru’s words held any truth about Satoru’s lingering feelings for you. It wasn’t out of pettiness, but rather a desire to confirm if Satoru was truly committed to Akemi. You knew this could potentially hurt you, but after enduring so much pain, you couldn’t imagine anything worse.

“Hey, you guys!” 

“It’s nice of you to join us!” 

“What’s up newlyweds?” 

Upon joining the group at the fireplace, you were partly grateful that you weren’t exactly a fifth wheel in the situation. There were about ten or twelve people in total, with the earlier group still remaining in their seats. It just so happened that you were seated right across your ex-husband, who was too busy trying to keep Akemi warm and cozy. 

“So, Y/N…” spoke a man from the group, who appeared to be Suguru’s colleague. “Are you single?” 

The unexpected question caught you off guard, especially the tension it seemed to create, particularly with Satoru who sat stiffly next to Akemi. Even Shoko and Suguru seemed apologetic for their friend’s behavior, but you brushed it off, recognizing that he had probably indulged a bit too much with beer. He was harmless enough when sober.

“Don’t be asking questions like that,” Suguru intervened, tapping the back of his friend’s head in a playful scold. “That’s rude.” 

The friend protested, still oblivious to the discomfort he had caused. “I was just asking! She’s attractive. I have the right to know.”

You forced a smile, accepting the can of beer he had offered. “Thanks, but I—”

“Even if she’s single, she’s not interested in you,” Shoko chimed in, keeping a casual mien. She had to keep things cool, especially with an explosive Gojou around. You were just thankful that she didn’t exactly reveal the status of your relationship with Toji, and that she was doing her best to divert the attention away from you. 

In this little scene, you caught a glimpse of Akemi tugging at Satoru’s arm, like she was uncomfortable with the conversation. Why? Did it trigger an insecurity within her? She couldn’t even return eye-contact, constantly avoiding your eyes and reacting to any conversation remotely related to you. But Satoru was there acting like a concerned boyfriend, whispering reassurance into her ear, and rubbing her knee in a comforting fashion. 

“You two make a lovely couple,” remarked one of the girls, directing her compliment to Satoru and Akemi.“Weren’t you the girl who caught the bouquet? Looks like there might be another wedding on the horizon.”

“Oooh!” 

“They’re an attractive couple, too.” 

“You guys planning for any children?” 

Just like Bora Bora. A bitter smile lingered on your face, but you decided not to look at Satoru anymore. He must be enjoying this. 

Shoko leaned in and placed an arm around you to whisper her apologies. “I’m sorry, Y/N. This was a bad idea.” 

“It’s okay,” you assured, not wanting to ruin the moment. “I’ll leave after I finish my beer so it won’t be awkward.” 

As the night wore on, conversation flowed easily at first, with everyone exchanging stories and laughter, and eventually more beers and liquor were passed around. Shoko and Suguru were lost in the glow of newlywed bliss, while you found yourself increasingly uneasy as memories of the past mingled with the present.

Satoru’s presence beside Akemi was a constant reminder of your failed marriage, and you struggled to suppress the weakness in your chest that threatened to surface. They held hands and watched the fire together, her head resting on his shoulder, his lips on top of her head. She was trying to voice out a specific concern to him, and he was sweetly listening to her. Did they even realize the ex-wife was in the same area with them? It was insensitive. You never knew Satoru could be this insensitive around you, no matter what his reasons were, his romantic gestures towards her was a clear slap to your face. And he succeeded, because you would be foolish not to admit that it broke your heart in half to witness him choosing another woman over you. 

Again, Satoru. Here we go again. You tried to stop the pounding on your chest. Here we fucking are the second time around. 

Desperate to ease the tension, Shoko and Suguru attempted to steer the conversation toward lighter topics, but their efforts only served to highlight the underlying tension in the air. You forced a smile and nodded along with the conversation, but inside, your heart was heavy with unresolved emotions.

And then someone had to bring up that stupid truth or dare game. 

“Satoru-kun, I dare you to kiss the prettiest woman in this group.” 

“Whoo! Do it! Do it! Do it!” 

Satoru was initially hesitant as he clearly found himself at a crossroads. He had two options here. Should he risk hurting Akemi by refusing to kiss her? Or should he risk hurting you by kissing another woman in front of you?

The clear winner was Akemi, because as soon as Gojou pressed his lips onto hers, you were already walking out of there. You had already excused yourself from the group, your footsteps as heavy as your heart. And unbeknownst to you, Satoru watched you go with a flicker of remorse in his eyes, but it was too late for apologies or second chances. The fire continued to crackle and pop as you left, its flames casting long shadows across the empty space where you had sat.

It was game over. Satoru had won his game. 

— —

Satoru was puzzled by your behavior since the wedding. You seemed determined to avoid him, which made sense with Akemi constantly by his side, but there was also an air of desperation to your avoidance. What baffled him even more was the jealousy you exhibited, as if you weren’t involved with another man, to the point where you even flew to another country just to spend more time with him. 

Like you said, you two were no longer married. It was about time you moved on. Yet, how come you were acting heartbroken over seeing Satoru with another woman?

Did you really think leaving the fire pit so abruptly had gone unnoticed?

Did you really think he had taken his eyes off you?

If not for Akemi telling him that she was having pelvic cramps, Gojou would have run off to follow you the minute you left the fire pit. Clearly, you still had an issue seeing him with another girl and he wanted you to voice it out. But if there was anything he learned during your time together, you would never be the first one to admit that you were jealous. Heck, didn’t you even allow him to bring Sera to Bora Bora that one time?

Look, he didn’t want to hurt you all over again. And if you had walked up to him and called him an asshole for having Akemi around, he would even agree with you. But it was your decision to choose Toji, it was your request for Satoru to find someone else, so why did it seem like you were suddenly changing your mind?

“I’m sorry for being a party pooper,” Akemi groaned in discomfort as Gojou helped her back to their cabin. He quickly refocused on their conversation, reminding himself not to dwell on thoughts of you when Akemi needed his attention—it wouldn’t be fair to her. She was suffering from a terrible illness that he wouldn’t wish upon anyone and he had to be her rock. “It’s been hurting quite a bit lately. I really should start with my treatment.”

Once inside their room, he swiftly settled her into bed. “Where does it hurt?” He applied a gentle touch to her pelvic bone, massaging the area to alleviate her discomfort. “Here?”

“Mhm. Thank you,” she lightly spoke, her soft hand caressing his cheek. “I’ll be fine.”

“You look really pale, though. I’m worried,” he remarked, sympathizing with her. Her complexion betrayed the pain she was holding back, though she likely hesitated to admit she wanted to go home and rest. “Do you wanna go home? Even if it’s in the middle of the night, I can have my driver pick us up.”

She shook her head quickly. “No, no. Please, I'll be fine. You won't get to see Shoko and Suguru for a while once they’re on their honeymoon, so I want you to spend time with them here.”

“You sure? But you always come first.” 

“I’ll be okay.” 

As Satoru continued to massage the area where Akemi felt pain, his thoughts inevitably drifted to you. He recalled the time when you were pregnant with Sachiro, experiencing frequent lower abdominal pain as your body adjusted to the baby. Each night, Satoru stayed up, gently rubbing your belly until you drifted off to sleep. It was one of his happiest memories during your marriage—the domestic bliss of being your husband and the memory of him caring for his wife. He wasn’t sure if he was missing it, or if he was just recalling a past memory, but looking at Akemi, Satoru wondered if he was prepared to have all that again but with another woman. 

He couldn’t give himself an answer. 

“I’m such a terrible person.” 

He should be telling himself that, but it was Akemi who said those words out loud as her brown doe-eyes stared at him solemnly, an expression that reflected guilt and remorse in equal measure. 

“How come?” Satoru’s voice was barely above a whisper as he asked, gently tucking the sheets around her while perching on the edge of the bed.

Her smile held a touch of sorrow, yet there was a glimmer of relief in her eyes. “I feel like I’ve failed Y/N. She treated me like family, like a sister, and now I can’t even face her properly. I’m just terrified, you know? I don’t want to keep letting her down. I never meant to cause her pain.”

For a moment, Gojou fell silent at her admission. “It’s all my fault. You two never would have been in this position if it wasn’t for me.” 

“Absolutely not,” Akemi persisted before leaning in to plant a tender kiss on his cheek. “Tonight, you’ve shown me that you’ve truly moved on from her. I was starting to worry, afraid that I could never fill the space she held in your heart. But since the wedding, you’ve never sidelined me or made me feel like an afterthought. You’ve never made me feel like second best. You’ve always prioritized me. I understand it’s hard seeing your ex-wife, but I appreciate your efforts more than you know. You make me feel incredibly special.”

Satoru swallowed hard. The mention of your name sent a pang of guilt coursing through his chest. He knew he had hurt Akemi with his lingering attachment to his past and his inability to fully let go of the woman who had once held his heart in her hands. He wanted to agree with Akemi, to reassure her that he had chosen her, but the truth remained elusive, buried beneath layers of denial and self-deception. He even had to close his eyes for a minute, unable to meet her gaze as a tumult of conflicting emotions swirled within him. He wanted to tell her the truth, to confess the depth of his feelings for his ex-wife, but the words were caught in his throat.

In that moment, Satoru felt more lost and alone than ever before, trapped in a web of his own making, and unable to confront the truth behind his true feelings. Moved on? Had he truly moved on from you, or had he simply buried his feelings beneath a facade of indifference?

“You should rest your eyes,” was the only thing he could tell her, planting a kiss on her forehead before he had turned off the lights. 

With the clock ticking past 11 o’clock and their recent conversation still echoing in his mind, Satoru felt an urgent need for clarity. He knew he had to confront his thoughts alone. So, without disturbing Akemi’s peaceful slumber, he quietly slipped out of the cabin, seeking solace in the night air. Immediately, as he got out, he was met with the apologetic eyes of his best friend. 

“Hey,” Satoru greeted, confused by the urgency in Suguru’s expression. “What’s up?” 

Suguru took a deep breath before he rubbed the back of his head. “There’s something I ought to tell you.” 

— —

You had been standing at the edge of the lake for a while now, the cool night air sending shivers down your spine as you gazed out at the shimmering expanse of water before you. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the tranquil scene, its soft light dancing on the surface of the lake like a thousand tiny stars.

The temptation to dive into the dark waters below tugged at your heart like a siren’s song, beckoning you to leave behind the pain and sorrow that had plagued you for so long. You longed to feel the icy embrace of the lake envelop you, to lose yourself in its depths and wash away the memories that haunted you every waking moment.

Is this how it feels like to finally let go? 

As you stood on the shore, your toes just inches from the water’s edge, a wave of despair then washed over you, threatening to pull you under like the undertow of a riptide. You thought of Sachiro, your sweet, innocent son, asleep in his bed back in Tokyo, his laughter and smiles serving as an antidote to the pain in your heart.

And then him… 

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you thought of Satoru. Despite the pain he had caused you, it was impossible not to yearn for him still, because his memory was a ghost that haunted you in every waking moment. But you knew that you couldn’t continue to live in the shadow of your past marriage. You had to escape being trapped in a cycle of longing and regret. You owed it to Sachiro to be strong, to find the courage to let go of the man who had once been your everything.

With your empty gaze, the calm lake shimmered in the moonlight like a blanket of liquid silver. You had come to the lake seeking solace, seeking escape from the unbearable pain that gnawed at your heart like a relentless tide. But as tears left your eyes, your emotions threatened to drown you in a sea of despair. 

Without hesitation, you dropped your shawl to the side, shedding yourself off of the cloth with a sense of reckless abandon. The fright of swimming in open water, especially at night, could have you passed out in a matter of seconds, but you paid it no mind as you waded into the water. 

Is this how it feels to finally give up? 

The lake embraced you like an old friend, enfolding you in its cool embrace as you swam out into the darkness. Each stroke brought you closer to the center of the lake, closer to the heart of your pain, and yet you felt strangely at peace, as if the water itself held the key to your salvation. You took time floating on your back, staring up at the stars that glittered like diamonds in the night sky, you felt a sense of clarity wash over you. You knew that your love for Satoru was a burden you could no longer bear.

But more than that, you knew that you couldn’t let your own pain dictate the course of your son’s life. Sachiro deserved better than a mother consumed by sorrow, better than a life overshadowed by the ghosts of the past.

With a deep breath, you let go of the pain that had held you captive for so long. You submerged yourself into the depths of the lake, watching as the night sky vanished beneath the surface like a wisp of smoke in the wind.

In that moment, you felt a sense of freedom unlike anything you had ever known. You just had to stay still. You had to keep yourself underwater, hold your breath until you no longer needed it, and… 

And…

You struggled to breathe, your mind consumed in panic telling you that you would die if you had kept yourself submerged for another minute, but you were adamant on staying there. You fought battles in your own mind, despite your body fighting back to keep you alive. 

At least soon, you would finally meet your mom again. 

“...”

“......”

“....Y/N!” 

“.......Y/N!” 

Feeling your vision blur and your limbs growing limp, you surrendered to the natural sway of the water. Bubbles escaped from your nose, your mouth tightly sealed shut. And the next thing you knew, you were back on the water surface, drawing breath like a fish out of the water. You could feel someone tugging at your arm, could feel the presence of another person dragging you out of the water, his arms pulling you into an embrace. 

“Y/N! What the hell are you thinking?!” 

You sobbed uncontrollably, your heartache pouring out as Satoru cradled you in his arms, his white hair damp from his efforts to rescue you from the water. How and when did he arrive? Your mind couldn’t process the details amidst the turmoil. All you could do was surrender to the flood of tears, feeling paralyzed from head to toe as you cried into his embrace.

Is this another dream? 

Is this another hallucination? 

You released a bitter laugh. Please. You closed your eyes, laughing and crying like a mad person. Please stop the pain. 

“Y/N, please,” his whispers were tender, yet tinged with a sorrow that amplified your heartache. “What about Sachiro?” He, too, shed his own tears, his ocean-blue eyes shimmering in the moonlight as they filled with tears, his voice breaking. “What about me?”

Your face was pressed against his chest, anguish coursing through you, feeling as if your very soul was being torn asunder. “Th-That’s the... the same thing... I’ve been asking myself,” you managed between sobs, struggling to draw a steady breath. “I’m... I’m always th-thinking about other people... and never myself.”

He fell silent, his response lost in the weight of your words, perhaps laden with guilt or his own sorrow. But his presence there, holding you close, as if he still harbored love for you, tore another piece from your already battered heart. He shouldn’t be here. He should have been with Akemi. He should be anywhere but near you. With a surge of adrenaline, you began to push him away, propelling yourself through the water, racing toward the shore despite the weakness in your limbs. Satoru called out your name, his voice a desperate plea, as he followed after you, his movements slower but filled with urgency.

“Stop!” Your voice rose, echoing against the night as you stood on the shore, water cascading from your body in sync with the tears streaming down your face. “L-Leave me alone... Please. Why are you here?”

You knew Satoru well enough to understand what had driven him to chase after you. Perhaps he had grown concerned, either from noticing your absence or from someone informing him of your uncharacteristic nighttime swim. His actions were undoubtedly unusual; he knew all too well of your fear of open water, prompting him to leap into action to rescue you.

But you didn’t need him to be here. You didn’t need him anywhere. He wasn’t yours anymore. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice carrying the weight of confusion and concern, his steps cautious as he approached you. He looked at you with tears in his eyes, his expression vulnerable and pleading, like a child seeking comfort, desperately hoping to be understood, to be heard. “You’re not with Toji anymore.”

“Why should I?” You struggled to compose yourself, wiping away the tears that blurred your vision. “It doesn’t matter—”

“It fucking matters, Y/N!”

“It shouldn’t matter!” Your voice cracked with emotion, your heart pounding painfully against your ribs. “Why should it matter, huh?”

“Because I love you!” His words echoed through the night, raw with emotion that had never been confronted until now. “Because I can’t fucking get over you. Because I’m a fool for you!”

You pushed him away, a surge of anger and hurt rising within you. “H-How dare you,” you choked out, your fists trembling as you struck his chest. “How dare you say that to me when you’re with someone else! You n-never truly loved me, Satoru. Y-You never did!”

“You wanted me to find someone new, Y/N,” his voice cracked with emotion, pained by his own words, “I just did what you asked me to do, even if that wasn’t what I truly wanted.” 

You vehemently denied his assertion in your mind, shaking your head in refusal. “Stop saying that. Just stop. Please.”

He already had his grip on your hand, pulling you closer. “Y/N—”

You jerked your hand away sharply, but then a wave of despair washed over you. “Every time I see you with her, I convince myself that I’m fine with it, that this is what I wanted, what I chose.” Tears welled up in your eyes as you recalled every heartbreak. “I tell myself that I deserve it, that you deserve to be with someone who can make you happier. But then I remember our past…” You paused, closing your eyes to stem the tears. “And then I compare it to your relationship with her now. I can’t help but wonder, why didn’t I receive that kind of love and respect from the beginning? Why did it take me nearly drowning in an ocean for you to realize and try to make things right three years ago?”

His grip on your hand tightened, as if he wanted to hold onto you and never let go, as if he wanted to reassure you with his touch that he was there, listening, understanding, feeling every word you uttered.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible amidst the crashing waves and the heavy weight of your emotions. “I’m sorry for everything I did wrong, for every moment I failed to show you the love and respect you deserved, Y/N.”

You hated it. You hated hearing his words now, because it was three years all too late. You had already gone through so much suffering, so much anguish that you didn’t deserve, just because you wanted a happy marriage. Just because you wanted to love and be loved. By him. By the person you married. 

“It d-doesn’t change anything,” you murmured, your voice breaking with sorrow. “I can’t undo the pain, the heartache. I can’t erase the memories.”

“I know,” he replied softly, his eyes filled with remorse. “But let’s try again. Let me try again, Y/N. Please.”

You wanted to believe him, to believe that he meant every word, that he was sincere in his intentions. But the wounds of the past were still fresh, and the memories of betrayal were still lingering in your mind.

“You know what hurts me more?” you asked, “It’s the fact that you didn’t lose your memories of me, but you still ended up falling for her,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Satoru’s silence felt like a confirmation to you. Perhaps he had indeed fallen in love with Akemi, and you were the obstacle standing in the way of his complete commitment to her. You were just a relic of his past, a piece that he needed to discard in order to embrace his future with Akemi. It seemed that fate had already decided that you and Satoru would never find happiness together, and this should serve as nothing more than a closure. 

But god be damned, it was tearing you apart. 

You tugged at the necklace around your neck, the pendant bearing half of his heart, and in your trembling hand, you ripped it off. As painful as it was, your next action was to hurl it into the darkness of the lake, discarding the last remnant that linked him to you, watching as it disappeared beneath the surface of the lake with a soft splash.

You know the difference between us, Satoru? You thought silently. I dove into the ocean just to find our wedding ring, but you would never plunge into that lake to retrieve that necklace.

With determined steps, you turned away before he could react, walking away from that place, walking away from him. You resolved that this would be your final encounter with Satoru Gojou in your lifetime, because there was no need for him in your life, just as he no longer needed you in his. You two would remain in the past, a memory best left behind.

This was you letting him go. 

But then, just as you were about to walk away, you heard a faint noise from the darkness behind you—a splash, followed by the sound of another frantic splashing.

Your heart pounded heavily in your chest. You turned back toward the lake, your eyes widening in shock as you saw Satoru thrashing in the water, his arms flailing as he searched desperately for the necklace you had thrown away.

“Satoru, you idiot!” you cried out, your voice filled with disbelief and concern and pain and overwhelming heartache. Without a second thought, you ran back to the cold water, your feet sinking into the soft sand as you waded into the lake. “Satoru, what are you doing?!” you called out again, your heart racing as you reached out to him, your fingers brushing against his arm as he struggled to stay afloat.

“I have to find it,” Satoru gasped, his voice strained with exertion. “I have to find the necklace you threw.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked into his eyes, seeing the desperation and determination that burned within them. You knew then that you couldn’t let him risk his life for a piece of jewelry, no matter how sentimental it may be.

“Satoru, please,” you pleaded, your voice trembling with emotion. “It’s not worth it. Let it go—”

But Satoru shook his head, his gaze fixed on the dark waters below. “I have to find it," he insisted, his eyes tearful. “It’s my heart. I gave it to you.”

 I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. 

The tension between you crackled like electricity in the air. In that moment, all of your walls came crashing down, your heart laid bare before the man you had once loved with all your soul.

With tears streaming down your cheeks, you reached out and pulled Satoru into your arms, your lips meeting his in a desperate, longing kiss. It was a kiss filled with years of pent-up emotion, a bittersweet union of love and pain that left you both breathless and raw. Your lips moved together in a tender dance, each kiss a silent plea for forgiveness, for understanding, for a second chance at the love you had lost. It was a kiss that spoke of regrets and what-ifs, of dreams left unfulfilled and promises broken.

For years, you had been strangers, your hearts closed off to each other in an attempt to shield yourselves from the pain of your past. But in that moment, as you clung to each other in the darkness, you couldn’t deny the truth that still lingered between you—that your love for each other had never truly died.

As you finally pulled apart, gasping for air, you looked into Satoru’s eyes, seeing the depth of his pain mirrored in your own. “I hate you,” you whispered, your voice laced with grief and surrender, "so much."

Satoru reached out and brushed a tear from your cheek, his touch gentle and tender. “I hate me, too,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes shining with guilt, “for hurting you.”

You couldn’t erase the past, nor could you predict the future. But as you stood together in the middle of the lake, your hearts entwined once more, you found solace in the simple act of being together, of sharing your pain and your love in the darkness of the night. And as you held each other tight, the gravity of your connection pulled you to kiss him again. 

Once more, you met his lips in a deeper kiss. His lips moved in perfect sync with yours, and the taste of his tongue was met with the familiarity you two shared. It was as if your bodies were moving on its own, and you allowed it to dictate whatever action it desired. Forget everything for now, was all you could think of in your head. In your mind, it was all Satoru. It was the man you love. The man you married. The man you share a child with. 

You were too engrossed with the feeling of his lips that you didn’t even realize he had your legs wrapped around his waist. And with your arms around his neck, you could feel him lift you up, never breaking the kiss as he carried you out of the lake. With each step he took, your kiss only got deeper and deeper. You had never felt such intensity throughout your marriage, and you were intoxicated by the feeling of kissing him again. 

Of feeling his lips around your jawline. Your neck. Your chest. You were gasping on his mouth, had his lips completely enveloped with yours, not realizing you were stumbling inside your cabin, desperate to find somewhere to lay on. 

And before you knew it, the night had played way differently than expected.

Both your wet clothes were on the floor in a tangle of fabric, forgotten in the heat of your passion. And now, with your bare body on top of him. His arms caressed the smooth skin of your back, his lips feathering kisses along your bust. As you moved your hips slowly, you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your lips. Satoru’s member was warm inside you. Your bodies were tingling from the intensity of your lovemaking in the dimly lit room. And when you pulled away, your eyes were locked in a silent exchange of yearning.

Without a word, Satoru reached out and gently cupped your breast, his touch sending electricity down your spine. You leaned into his touch, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you felt the heat of his body pressing against yours.

Your lips met once more, a tender exploration of each other’s mouths, and he was taking that chance to shift the position you were in. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he began to enter you again. You were whimpering under him, melting into his passionate movements. You have had sex with Satoru multiple times before, but it was never this emotional. It was never this passionate. You could feel the difference with the way he kissed you, with the way he looked at you, with the way he touched you. 

“S-Satoru—!” 

“Mmm… I missed you so fucking much, Y/N.”

And then, finally, you came together in a flurry of hands and lips and skin, your bodies melding into one as you gave yourselves over to the exquisite pleasure of your lovemaking. 

At that exact moment, as you moved together in perfect harmony, you knew that you were home.

— —

When Akemi woke up, she could tell something felt wrong. 

It didn’t help that Satoru was not by her side as she opened her eyes, blinded by the sunlight that peeked through the window. Was he out for a morning run? Or perhaps he was indulging in a leisurely bath? She entertained the idea of joining him, wanting to express her gratitude for his care and support.

Her heart swelled with love for him, despite all the risks and uncertainties. He was her rock, her confidant, her everything. In him, she found solace and strength, and she couldn’t imagine her life without him. Despite the troubles of his past, she felt blessed to have crossed paths with him. She longed for the kind of deep connection and lasting commitment that she saw in others’ marriages, a dream she harbored for her own future. And in Satoru, she saw the perfect partner to share that dream with, to build a family and a life together that she had always yearned for.

Akemi wasn’t ashamed by how smitten she was with him. In fact, she was beginning to have more confidence in her decision to pursue a relationship with him. She just hoped you would understand, that you would eventually let go of the grudge in your heart. At the end of the day, she wasn’t trying to hurt you. She was only trying to pursue her happiness. 

And the exact source of her happiness was someone she endeavored to find that morning. She put on a robe and searched every room in the cabin, calling out for his name, wondering why she couldn’t hear his voice. 

With no response forthcoming, Akemi decided to exit the cabin in search of Satoru. Assuming he had likely been with Suguru all night, she scanned the vicinity, expecting to spot his tall, white-haired figure. Yet, after several minutes of fruitless searching, she couldn’t find him and instead, encountered a hotel staff member. That was when she decided to finally inquire about his whereabouts.

“Excuse me,” she began, halting the staff member’s stride, “Have you seen my boyfriend? He’s tall, with white hair and blue eyes.”

“Ah, Mr. Gojou?” the hotel staff responded, scratching her head as realization dawned. She then gestured toward the last place Akemi wished him to be. “Um, I think he’s in there.”

Akemi’s heart raced as if she had seen a ghost. Her complexion drained of color, her heart pounding in her chest as she realized that the cabin she had been directed to was yours. And in a twist of fate, just as she stood there in shock, the man she loved emerged from the cabin, equally wide-eyed.

“‘Kemi…” he began, frozen in place, “Let’s talk first—”

But she cut him off with a scoff. Her hands trembled with a tumult of emotions—anger, pain, and betrayal—threatening to overwhelm her. She was on the verge of collapse, her mind reeling with questions. Was he going to explain his actions? No, there was only one question that demanded an answer.

“Did you… did you do it?” she asked through gritted teeth, her voice laced with accusation.

Satoru didn’t need to respond. As Akemi pushed the door open, her worst fears were confirmed as she saw you standing behind him, draped in nothing but a blanket. Tears welled in her eyes, and before she could think, her body reacted, her hand connecting with Gojou’s cheek in a resounding slap.

“You never changed!” she cried out, her voice cracking with anguish. “You’re still a cheater!”

Satoru struggled to deflect each fist she hurled at him, but her rage and despair overwhelmed any attempt to reason with her. She was consumed by her pain and the looming betrayal she anticipated, unable to comprehend that her worst fears were coming true before her eyes.

“‘Kemi, please,” Satoru pleaded in vain.

“...Akemi, I'm sorry,” you interjected, your voice heavy with remorse as you wiped your tears. “It’s not his fault. It’s mine.”

Upon hearing your words, Akemi erupted. She disregarded your friendship, cast aside your shared memories, and denied that she had ever considered you a friend. Her tear-filled eyes bore into you with accusation. “Y-You,” she began, her voice choking with sobs, “You’re a hypocrite, Y/N!”

You remained silent, absorbing her words.

Akemi pressed on with her onslaught. “You’re a hypocrite! You’ve become the person you despised the most when you were married,” she accused, recalling the anguish you endured during Gojou’s affair. “You’re no better than Sera! And that’s why you’re miserable, and you’ll forever be miserable! If this is your way of getting back at me,” she paused, betrayed by the anguish in her voice, “Then jokes on you, because Satoru will never be faithful to you. He’ll keep cheating on you, just like he did now with me! You two belong in that cycle!”

She fled before she could hear your response, but Satoru’s whispered apology lingered in the air, unclear of who its intended recipient was. At that moment, she didn’t care anymore. She raced back to her cabin, tears streaming down her face as she hastily packed her belongings.

She moved mechanically, tossing her belongings into her luggage while grappling with the overwhelming pain of his infidelity. Try as she might to focus on the task at hand, her tears flowed freely, and she surrendered to her grief, cradling her face in her hands.

Amidst her anguish, she couldn’t ignore the escalating pain in her pelvic region, a physical echo of the agony in her heart. Each sob seemed to intensify both sensations, leaving her feeling utterly shattered.

With that confrontation, Satoru faced a pivotal choice: to stay with you or to pursue Akemi. 

While Akemi had anticipated that he might choose you, she was taken aback when she swung the door open,

bags in hand, 

only to find Satoru Gojou standing on her doorstep.

[astrasng]

SCRATCH || BANGCHAN

MINORS DNI!

pairing: idol!chan x female!reader

summary: thanks to chan's solo stage you finally made him yours.

warnings: blood (from scratches obv), handjob, spanking, petnames (baby, honey, angel, sweetheart) unprotected sex, cursing

author's note: from my previous breakdown post bc of chan got me in an inspired mood so i made a little somethin somethin. still what the fuck was he thinking. also, if you're a regular reader by any chance (ily) you might have noticed i write jealousy tropes, IDKK WHY THO SORRY

important!: this is pure fiction, the act in this story is by my imagination and not based off true events. please do not copy the work.

enjoy!

It isn’t like you’re not supportive of your boyfriend. You’ve always been there for every idea, even if you thought that it wasn’t the best one. The things you have to deal with him being an idol settled deep into your mind, already accepting the consequences that may come in the way. But it’s not like you would ever give up your relationship with Chan just because he’s doing risky things that you may not like. 

To be honest, it kind of became an advantage for you. 

You would watch him having fun on stage with the other members, sometimes splashing water at each other, making everyone in the crowd either cheer or laugh at their silly behavior. There were times when they got sentimental, wishing all the happiness for STAY and the members for the future. It made you emotional just in the same way as you would watch them through the TV in your shared apartment. 

And then there were times where you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together and wait for him.

“Had fun today?” 

The sarcastic tone caught Chan’s attention as he’s doing his everyday night routine, just as he’s finishing up his shaving session. He knows exactly why you’re talking and reacting to him this way, you’ve been all fidgety with him since he got home from the first day of the tour, and when he stepped inside the apartment he saw you still sitting on the couch, not welcoming him in with the usual hug he gets. 

Chan looks a little bit to the side so he can get a reflection of you changing in the room, the towel you used laying on the ground after taking a shower. Without him. 

“Of course.It’s always heartwarming to meet with STAY’s. And the kids were so hyped about getting solo stages too.”

Now that just boils your blood. 

“Oh, were they?” You keep your back facing him,not letting him see how frustrated you really are about the game he’s playing. “They were doing an amazing job indeed.” You shut your eyes momentarily before putting on your velvet nightgown, and slowly walking towards the bathroom where your boyfriend is staying. 

“Yeah, I assume you saw mine too, right? Did you see the special makeup they did on me?” With pride he chuckles while putting away his shaving equipment, patting his dry as he picks up his toothbrush. His question should have a very easy and simple answer, yet here you are ready to give him a brainwash about not caring about your mental health. Cause what the hell was that? You can’t even form the offensive words you want to say to him out of frustration, you could never say anything negative about his performances in general — but the way he’s talking about it, so full of himself, you can’t help yourself. “I wonder who made all that.” It slips out, biting down on your lip softly to stop yourself from further embarrassment. 

“It must’ve been the makeup artist of course, but I could’ve done a better job if you ask me.” You step into the bathroom just as you finish your sentence, Chan unable to answer due to his mouth full with mint scented bubbles. 

As you want to pass behind him, you swipe your delicate fingers on his defined back muscles, the photos of him painted in scratches for the performance fills your vision. 

“Makeup was unnecessary,to be honest.” 

There’s something glinting in Chan’s eyes as a lopsided smile appears on his face, looking at you through the mirror placed above the bathroom counter. As the words leave your lips, he licks his plump lips slowly, putting away his toothbrush he just used. “If I had asked you, would you do it?” 

The air stops suddenly in your throat,taking your eyes off of him as you busy yourself with something else infront of you. “Well…it doesn’t matter now.” 

“Oh it does, honey.” Chan says lowly, his voice suddenly closer as you want it to, and you know perfectly he’s only a step away from you. “If I only knew my baby just wanted to help me out in my solo,” He snakes his arms around your waist slowly, his bare chest pressing into your clothed back as he’s standing behind you, whispering in your ear. “I could’ve used some help.” With that, he pressed a slow open mouth kiss on the side of your neck. his hands caressing the skin on your stomach. 

“Should we recreate it and show it to my makeup artist?”

Chan whispers against your ear, biting down slightly on your earlobe as he makes eye contact with you through the mirror. You look already disheveled just from his touch, your nightgown scrunched slightly up as he kneads your stomach, one of his hands slowly inching up to your breasts. “Would you like that, baby?” 

“I didn’t mean it like that, Chan – mhphm…” A small moan leaves your lips as he pinches your nipple in his slender fingers, continuing to make out with your neck as you try and compose yourself. 

“How did you mean it then?” He grunts out as you push your backside on his crotch, his cock twitching already in his sleeping pants at the thought of you being jealous. “Tell me.” 

“I–I just…” You try to form words, keeping yourself together and not yet falling for his words but then Chan sneakily slides his other down towards your waiting heat, his finger immediately meeting with slickness between your pussy lips. He groans again, grinding into your ass to ease the pain from being so hard. “Baby, if you want to scratch my back that badly just say it.” There’s something hiding behind his words which makes you shut your eyes from the pleasure he’s causing, your hands flying on the counter for support. “I kind of…wanted to..” Your breath hitches, cutting off your sentence when Chan flips your nightgown upwards to expose your wet pussy, your naked ass on display in front of him as he takes his hand away from your breast and caresses one of your cheeks. “You wanted what? Do you need some help darling?” He grunts under his breath when he feels you clench around his fingers, plugging it in and out to take your breath away. You moan out when you feel his fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot that makes your back arch. 

But Chan doesn’t give in that easily. 

You suddenly feel a stinging pain on one of your cheeks, moaning out shamelessly from the sensation he just caused with his hand. When you pick your head up you see Chan already looking at you through the mirror, lust filled eyes raking over your already fucked out face. “Say it baby.” 

You can feel his hand smoothing over the place he just spanked, the air in the bathroom so humid you can feel yourself getting sweaty again. His finger never stopped working inside you, with that spank almost knocking you over the edge. 

When Chan doesn’t see you changing your mind and aófinally answers him, he only clicks his tongue and tilts his head to the side. Without a second thought, he slaps your ass again, his finger circling around your clit rapidly when he hears your pornographic moans echoing in the bathroom.

“I–I wanted to mark you!” 

And there it is. 

As you practically moan out the words, Chan’s finger is coated thickly with your cum as his words made you tip over the edge. Your whole body shaking in his arms as you come down your high slowly, trying to gather your thoughts and realizing what you just said.

When the words finally leave your mouth he can’t help but smirk, the possessive side of you finally showing for the first time in your relationship. “And why is that honey?” Chan teases you, seeing your ears red from the sudden confession you just made. 

“Just so everyone knows that you’re mine..” You mumble quietly, shame overcoming you as it paints your cheeks deep red. 

Something snaps inside Chan. He can’t help but groan out, his cock painfully hard against his pants as he turns you around and places his hands on your throat, slightly adding pressure on it. Before you know it, you’re pressed up against the wall, his lips already chasing yours. 

“Do it baby.” He kisses you, his tongue sneaks through his lips to taste your lip balm you applied earlier he loves so much. “I want you to do your worst on me,” He whispers between kisses, his hand suddenly picking you up to put your legs around his waist. Your whole body welcomes him, your mouth opens as he slides his tongue inside once again, and your fingers landing into his freshly washed hair as he devours your lips. His hand scrunches up your gown once again before he presses his hardness into your slick core. 

At the contact you moan out loudly, already wanting him inside you, to ease your pain that he caused. 

“Feel that baby? It’s all yours. Nobody else has that but you.” 

With a whine you throw your head on the wall, Chan’s lips continuing to leaves red splotches on your sensitive skin as he takes his hand and pushes down his boxers, hissing out the minute the air hits his precum covered cock, tip red from all the waiting and veins bulging with excitement. 

He drags his wet tip over your puffy lips, spreading them open more to make room for himself when he circles around your clit. As he slides his length between your folds, you feel all emotions gather up inside you, the feeling too hazy as your vision becomes blurry from the need. “Channie,,please..” 

“‘s okay baby,I’ll give it to you.” He chants when he finally pushes his tip inside you, groaning out from you uncontrollably clenching around his cock when he nearly settles halfway in. “You have to relax,angel. You make it impossible for me to–”

“Chan — I’m so sorry, I–” He hears you gasp out, your body all tensed up, your eyes wide open as you look into the mirror across you. He looks swiftly behind him to see your naked bodies melted into one, and then it catches his eye. 

With one thrust he settles fully inside you, moaning from how incredibly tight you are around his length, keeping himself back to not buckle into you rapidly. He puts his hand on your chin, making you look into his eyes and not on his blood covered back. “I asked you to do this, right?” With a softened gaze, he makes sure you understand what he’s saying, not taking his eyes off of you until he sees your lust filled expression again instead of worry ones. “Right baby?”

“Y-yes..” You gulp when you see your fingers slightly covered in red around his neck. “But I didn’t want to-”

“It’s fucking hot.” He hisses, his voice whinier than usual as he puts his forehead on your chest, his hips starting to move. “You did such a great job sweetheart.” He pulls completely out before thrusting into you again, this time harsher as he hears your cries next to his ears. 

When you take another look in the mirror, you see what you just caused. The moment you felt his cock hitting you so deeply you couldn't help but deepen your nails into his skin on his broad back, now covered with blood here and there. It softly dribbles down his defined muscles, and Chan is right. It is fucking hot. 

So you clench around him again when you feel his fingers circling around your clit, his cock hitting the perfect spot as he moans out your name. “Do it again.” He demands, his hand flying on the wall next to your head to thrust up harder into you, making you roll your eyes. As you see Chan so deeply in emotions you scratch his back again, now only deep redness showing on his pale skin. 

The pain on his skin makes him inch closer to his release. The jerks of his hips, slamming against your hips are quickening, becoming more erratic, intense and desperate. You cry out his name nonstop, feeling him twitching inside you. 

“Give it to me.” He’s breathless as he chants into the side of your neck. “I need you to come around my cock baby.” 

His demand tips you over the edge again, moaning out his name as you feel him curl against you, his shoulders on display for you to see what you painted on his back. His grunts are vibrating through your body, the pain melting into pleasure as he paints your insides with his thick cum, feeling so full of him, feeling him everywhere. Chan bites down softly on your skin,kissing the pain away quickly as you both come down from this high. 

You are his. He made sure a long time ago, but now, you made sure he was yours too as you watch the crimson red blood slowly sliding down his back, gathering it on your fingers.

“It took a solo stage for you to claim me as yours?” Chan asks when he softly puts you down on the bathroom counter, a bright smile painting his face once again.

like and reblog is much appreciated! ♡

divider by:@enchanthings

[simpxxstan]

best friend's older brother seungcheol

this is part of my 550 followers celebration event! find the rest of the members' headcanons in the event too as i post them through this month!

no warnings: just fluff.

thinking about best friend's older brother!seungcheol who isn't even attractive to you for most of your life

seungcheol, attractive? hell no. you don't understand why every girl in your class drools over him. they ask you for his number, for tips to ask him out, for favours to set them up with him, and you oblige, because you don't get the hype but you don't care about protecting cheol from these girls.

and it doesn't seem that cheol minds either. at each of your birthday parties, you don't even call half the people who turn up, because they just want to ogle seungcheol. and seungcheol even lets them.

you don't care because you just want to spend time with his sister, who's your bestest friend, and it's a small price to pay for her treasured company. and you don't really mind seungcheol's company too, occasionally. although he pouts too much whenever the three of you don't play the game he wants to play.

you don't know how to define your relation with him. he's been everything you had missed in being a single child. teaching you to drive even when your hand-eye coordination sucks. helping you with your precalculus exam even when his own geography exam is the next morning. rescuing you from dumb teens who'd tried to spike your drinks.

but he's not really a brother. you know that more as you grow up when you stop seeing him as just your best friend's older brother, but also as a specimen of the opposite sex. the way his voice becomes deeper, his hair falls longer to the nape of his neck, the way he can no longer fit into the makeshift tent in your room when the three of you play UNO.

and yet, you can't imagine any romantic notion cropping up in your mind with regards to him.

that one time someone asked if you ever had a crush on seungcheol, and you'd laughed straight in their face. crush? on seungcheol? ridiculous, absurd, preposterous. you tell seungcheol the same the next time you see him, and he laughs with you too. see? no scene of romance.

thinking about best friend's older brother!seungcheol who is head over heels in love with you

has been so for the last four years, when he's seen you really grow up into a remarkable woman.

the two of you are just two years apart, so he sees you hitting puberty mere months after him. and boy, he's down bad since that day.

he's not been able to maintain any relationship with anyone he dates simply because he always finds flaws in them that aren't in you. can't bake? too bad, you can. can't sing idol songs? too bad, you know every idol song's lyrics and choreography. can't keep a seat for him during lunch? too bad, you never forget. don't know his favourite ice cream flavour? too bad, you know every ice cream flavour he has liked since he was ten years old. have clear skin? too bad, he would choose your shiny, oily skin any day. wear skirts? too bad, he prefers your baggy jeans because you have pockets to store candies in.

and yet he knows that you don't think of him like that. it doesn't particularly bother him, because he doesn't need you to love him for him to love you.

thinking about best friend's older brother!seungcheol who gets the news of you going abroad for college from his sister, not from you directly

"you didn't even bother to tell me." he says, after almost an hour of you coaxing him to tell you why he's pouty and upset.

"i would tell you, eventually, i would." "and when will eventually come around?" you don't answer, just hug him from the side and press your face to his shoulder. he's gotten remarkably broad in the last few years, perhaps to fit in with his jock image. but his body still feels as soft to you as it did earlier as well, whenever you had hugged him.

"you'll call me?" he says after a long time. "of course." "when will you leave? in august?" "yeah, so i'm still here for a couple more months. this entire summer, i can chill finally." you smile, but he doesn't. his eyes lock onto yours, and your face burns up with the attention he's giving you, although you don't want to look away.

"two more months." without any clue of what's going on in his head, you shoot him a confused glare. "yeah, two months. two months are a long time." "not really. but they're enough." "enough?" cheol doesn't reply. he doesn't need to. actions always prove louder than words.

thinking about best friend's older brother!seungcheol who now spends more time with you than ever

he's not even being subtle about it. he totally stops going out for parties and random date nights, in favour of spending every evening with you. your best friend is busy with her boyfriend, who's also pining because she's leaving too with you, so cheol has you completely to himself.

together, the two of you explore every nook and cranny of the city you were born in. cheol is surprised at how little you know about your own city, and you're shocked at how much he knows. "you gangster. how are you so familiar with these parts of the town?" you blush as he drives you thru the red light district of the city, clutching him tight as you sit behind him on his motorbike. "i've spent many a happy evening in these lanes, sweetheart." "do you want to drop me off and enjoy here then? i can take the bus home." he grabs your hands which are wrapped around his shoulders and pulls you closer to him. "don't say stuff you don't really mean, sweetheart."

sweetheart. that's a new nickname, but he's using it ever so often these days. he checked your reaction the first time he used it, and while your eyes had grown wide in mild shock, you'd not really protested against him. and he knows you've never not loudly protested against something you don't like. so he knows pretty well you don't mind the nickname. and if the way you're wearing the same lipgloss and the same pair of jeans every day ever since he complimented it once is anything to go by then you like the nickname too.

thinking about best friend's older brother!seungcheol who you're touching a little more as each day passes by

you don't know when it starts to happen, but you rather start to looking forward to seeing him every damn day.

you hope he doesn't realise why you keep wearing the same lipgloss every day. you hope he doesn't realise why you suddenly enjoy riding his motorcycle with him. you hope he doesn't realise that you no longer argue with him when he insists on taking you to places he's more familiar with.

and you certainly hope he doesn't ask why. because to be honest, you don't know if you could answer it yourself. why do you want him to look at you more? why do you want to touch the muscles on his back through his white t-shirts? why do you let him beat you in every arcade game as long as it means that he celebrates his victory by hugging you?

perhaps because when you try to think of your life without seungcheol, you come up with a blank. you simply cannot imagine a life where he’s not a part of it. a life without him at your birthdays and new year parties? a life without him on your emergency dial? a life without him being your go-to person for any excuse you want to whip up to get out of a situation? a life without your #1 supporter no matter what you’ve done? you can’t imagine it at all. 

and this realisation makes you think again on what your relationship with seungcheol really is. 

thinking about best friend's older brother!seungcheol who brings you to the beach the day before his birthday

it’s also your last week in this country. the two of you spend the entire day wandering through street stalls that are set up next to the beach. you buy him a seashell locket that he promptly wears around his neck. he buys you as many glasses of boba tea as you like, which turns out to be nearly every flavour sold at the stall. 

when night comes, the two of you lie down in the rocky sand along the beach, slightly isolated from the rest of the crowds, and giggle to your own inside jokes while embracing the scent of the sea breeze mingled with the cool night air. 

the clock strikes midnight in the distance, and you whisper in seungcheol’s ears, “happy birthday, cheol-ah.” he laughs softly, his voice hoarse after all the talking of the day. “you’re the first to wish me.” “like always, isn’t it?” you turn on your side to face the man, his arm outstretched and your head lying on his arm, barely touching and yet so, so close. “i’ll always be the first to wish you, cheol-ah. even with a time zone difference.” you almost laugh when you see the way his lips go from a smile to a pout, sadness spreading across his features. “i’ll miss you, sweetheart.” he turns to face you too, his bicep flexing under your cheeks as the two of you face each other and breathe in the same air. under the moonlight, his sharp features look soft, his eyebrows hidden under his bangs. 

“can i ask you something?” seungcheol hums, his pout deepening. the impulse burns through your veins. something about how much closer you’ve grown over the last few weeks makes you feel braver. “can i kiss you, seungcheol?” the man in front of you smirks, “i thought you would never ask.”

his lips meet yours halfway and take away any ounce of hesitation from your mind. the first kiss is short, but when you pull away to take a breath, he leans in further, his body coming slightly above you as he tucks you into his arm and deepens the kiss. his other hand cupping your cheeks. 

“is this my birthday present?” seungcheol asks you from above you, breathless. you giggle, shy from the proximity. “if you want. did you like it?” “like? fucking loved it, sweetheart. best birthday present ever.”

[johnbrand]

The Resort

It was another Friday afternoon at an exclusive, private resort. The only way to get to the property was by the resort’s own transportation, the bus filled with 40 or so gay men arriving promptly as always. They were typically chatty, the usual friendly-flirty with each other before they would begin bragging about their lifestyles and work. Bear or twink, hairy or hairless, lots of boasting and a few not-so-subtle hints that their relationships would be non-existent for the weekend.

I made sure to greet each of them as they entered the main building, handing them their room keys and identification badges. All of them were assigned separate rooms, although most joked they would not be using them over the weekend. I always withheld a chuckle at those remarks, knowing better than their catty ways. Each of them had been preselected, carefully selected from a database of all LGBTQ+ individuals in the city. When the invitation had been sent out, they had no idea that only gay men were invited to the resort.

Soon, it was time for the party to begin. Within the booming house music played my special audio track, humming pleasantly beneath the sexual chaos on the dancefloor. I always kept my eye on a particular guest over the course of their stay; I enjoyed watching an intimate progression throughout our time together. For this weekend I had chosen Nicki: a small, meek college student who found himself more often in a library than a club. The young boy was one of my favorite types to watch.

The shift itself is clear, if one knows what to look for. Some guys stood a little straighter, correcting the hip that had previously popped unconditionally. Shorts grew longer, and maybe a few stretched out into plain, baggy pants to display little effort in fashion. Abs tightened up, pecs twitched, and biceps pumped all around the party. But the men just assumed it was the lights and sweat playing tricks on their eyes. Had they always been able to so easily define each other’s muscles?

Slowly, things would begin to shift physically as the men would drift apart from each other. They had started the night playfully rubbing up against the other attractive, sexually-like minded creatures, but now they found themselves a bit more distanced, creating space out of respect and something else. Being so close to a man had sort of become…a bit nauseating. 

Instead of playing with each other, they would eventually begin to play with themselves, whether they realized it or not. Hand crammed down their shorts, either softly pawing or stretching seams. Some were soon even grunting or mumbling slurs to themselves right in the middle of the dancefloor. The virility of such an act in public was becoming indifferent to them, they were being told it was simply a natural thing to do.

Most men were easily converted to more heterosexual destinies, but a few were often drug out of the spell accidentally. Take Nicki for example, who I spied as he backed away from the party. His pre-conceived caution had made him aware of the changes happening around him, although he had yet to realize he had been affected already too. Nicki had gained a few inches, and his shirt had magically evaporated to reveal two dense pillows above a rippling set of abdominals.

Nicki left the dancefloor as quietly as possible, assuming he could escape. But he could have never known the special audio had not been playing from the speakers, but instead the identification badge that had been handed to him upon arrival. It would be repeating the special audio as long as I wanted it too, brainwashing up until the moment they left to cause permanent results. The physical changes would be long finished by then, but the mental modifications took the full stay to hold. 

After giving him a head start, I exited out an employee door to find our lost Nicki. About 30 minutes later I caught up to him, frantically rubbing his body down, hoping to somehow clean his acts. His muscles had grown even larger during our time apart, and an impressive funk was now registerable from my position a few feet away. During our time apart, Nicki had ejaculated to the thought of a woman. He did not realize that each future interaction with his thickening cock would reconnect that pleasure with the imagery in the female body. My programming instructed them that it felt good to adjust, give in to what was natural.

By the time the identification badges were collected, the 40 or so men who reloaded onto the bus were completely changed. Over the course of the weekend, the once rowdy gays of all ages had been converted into God-fearing, fag-jeering, chick-leering men. Although he would never know it, I possessed a fatherly pride watching Nick (the “i” at the end had disappeared as fast as submissive demeanor) ascend onto the bus. I waved as my newest group of guests were sent back to the city before instructing my employees to get to work. After all, we had our next batch arriving at the end of the week.

[hyukalyptus]

yes, please — soobin x fem!reader | est. relationship. NSFW/MDNI!

cw. idol!soobin, nonidol!reader, chubby!reader, jiggle, talks of his abs, reader wears lip gloss, tiddylover!soob, slight exhibitionism, kissing, pet names (baby, love, good boy), some choking, mouth covering (with a hand), dacryphilia, cunnilingus, fingering, licking, soobin tastes sweaty and reader likes it, unprotected sex (pls don't do this), soft dom!soob, nipple play, spanking, creampie, lmk if there are more. notes. smut under cut. wc. 3.2K

“Can you stop?” you ask Soobin sitting on the couch across from you in a small dressing room. Still catching his breath and wiping sweat off his forehead from the concert, he runs his fingers through his damp hair.

“Stop what?” He asks, not looking up from his phone.

“Stop being so pretty.” You bite your lip. “You’re driving me crazy.” 

Flashing you a knowing smirk, he asks, “Am I?” He leans forward on the couch, his hand sliding up your thigh feels like someone poured oil on your body and lit a match. The squeeze he gives it is especially too much, making tingles run throughout your whole body. Meeting his gaze, your faces are inches apart from each other while you noticeably glance down at his lips. Those perfectly pillowy and pink and heart-shaped lips that always beg to be bitten and kissed. 

“Well, you were when you were wearing that pink sparkly, velvety thing, but now…hm,” you lean back, crossing your arms. “I’m not so sure this is doing it for me,” you say, looking over his post-concert black t-shirt and shorts—which, let’s be honest—is doing it for you. He doesn’t wear shorts often, but when he does, your tummy does backflips. 

“You know you love this outfit,” he smirks, rolling your chair closer to him. It takes everything in you to keep from wrapping your legs around his hips right then and there, but you're not giving in yet. Well, not fully. You can’t stop your fingertips from gracing his thigh. “I know you love my thighs.”

That jerk.

His eyes roaming your face, he lingers on your lips, but still. You’re not giving in. Shrugging, you nonchalantly lean back against the chair, crossing your legs. 

“Fine,” he chuckles. “If you really don’t like my outfit, then,” he shrugs, unlocking his phone again. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do to help you." Crossing one leg over his other knee, his shorts ride up, exposing his thigh. Deliberately moving his t-shirt to the side, he exposes his collarbone, making your breath hitch.

He thinks he’s so slick.

“I know what you’re doing,” You roll your eyes. “It’s not gonna work.”

Refusing to look at you, he says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, babe.” His voice is sweet as honey despite his obviously evil intentions. Maybe not evil per se, but certainly not sweet-as-honey intentions. 

“Hm.” You bite the inside of your cheek, eyes floating across his broad shoulders and collarbone. You practically salivate thinking about the saltiness of his skin after shows. The muscles in his arms are more defined from performing and his veiny hands are screaming at you. You just want them around your neck. 

As you stare at his hands, his fingers stop tapping the screen of his phone. He peeks at you through the hair that fell in front of his face, but his eyes quickly shift to his phone screen when he notices you looking. Resting back against the couch, he takes a deep breath, scrolling through his phone again.

“It’s kinda hot in here, huh?” You ask smugly, lifting your sweatshirt off, the thinness of your tank top barely covering your bare chest and hard nipples. Stretching your arms above your head, you push your chest out, catching his eyebrows raise, but he’s not giving in either. 

No matter how tempting your full, bouncy, and jiggly your tits are. No matter how absolutely squeezable they look. No matter how much he wants to feel your hard nipple against his tongue. 

He’s not giving in. 

Walking to your tote bag in the corner of the room, you bend so your ass faces him, your jeans hugging your curvy hips perfectly. You search for your lip gloss before gliding it over your lips, completely ignoring how obviously he’s ogling at you. 

Damn, those lips would look so pretty wrapped around his cock, hm?

Looking over your shoulder, he changes his attention again, acting like he wasn’t staring at you.

“You okay, babe?” you ask. He presses his lips together, exasperating. He looks so cute when he’s flustered. All blushy and smiley and dimpley. 

Striding over to him, you rake your fingers through his hair, tracing his jawline, swiping a thumb across his perfect bottom lip. His mouth stays open by itself as you say, “You seem kinda…feverish.” His breath is heavy again, his eyes looking up and down your body, tracing every bump and curve.

He whispers your name.

“Yes, babe?” Bending over, your shirt hangs off your chest, giving him easy access to look at your bare tits being deliberately pressed together by your upper arms. 

He swallows hard, looking up at you through his eyelashes and stutters, “You, uh, you dropped your phone.” God, he loves your tits. Always have. Always will. They fill his big hands beautifully. They taste delicious. They bounce gorgeously when he fucks you in missionary. 

“Ah, thank you, baby,” you smirk, picking it up, showing off your ass again. He slides down the couch again, blowing air out of his nostrils. While he reaches for a water bottle on the coffee table, you plop back down in your chair. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure,” he says, inching closer to you, clearly puckering his lips. He knows how much you love them. He even goes so far as resting an arm above your head, pulling his shirt up to show off his toned stomach. Geez, he really is being obvious today. 

“I just wanted to say,” you start as he attempts to slyly move his shirt up, exposing more and more skin. “I can see what you’re doing.” Pulling his shirt down with an eye roll, you continue, “Anyway, as I was saying.” He stretches, rubbing his tummy— “Are you trying to seduce me with your tummy?”

“You’re the one that loves my tummy,” he says, holding his hands up.

“It is really cute,” you giggle, your cheeks turning rosy. 

“Cute?” He asks, fake offended. 

“Sorry, sorry. It is really sexy,” you correct yourself, tracing a finger over his muscles. “So you are trying to seduce me?” You smirk. Opening his mouth to say something, nothing comes out and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Well, you were trying to seduce me with your booty.”

“You were doing it first with your—” you say, pulling your tank top to the side to expose your collarbone.

“And what about your oh, Soobin, it’s so hot in here,” he mimics your accent, stretching his arms above his head, pushing his chest out. Then he pretends to put lip gloss on with an imaginary applicator. “You look kinda feverish,” he says, making kissy noises.

“You’re the one who threw your thighs at me!” You giggle. “You know you have dancer’s legs.”

“Well, you threw your boobs at me,” he says. “You know you have…boobs.”

Rolling your eyes, you say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I did not throw my boobs at you.”

“Oh really?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Oh really?”

“Oh yeah,” you smirk, your gaze lingering, eyeing each other up and down. “Do you wanna have sex or not?” He looks at you innocently, his eyebrows barely raised.

“Yes, please.”

“Then get over here, boo,” you giggle, holding your arms out to him. He stands from the couch, swiftly locking the door. Striding closer to you, he lifts you into his arms, running a thumb over the apple of your cheek before pressing his lips to yours.

Those perfect lips you’ll never get enough of. They’re soft and smooth and mold perfectly to yours. They were made for you. 

Holding you tighter, he slowly turns both of you, pushing your back against the door roughly, a gasp leaving your lips. His hand snakes into your hair, pulling your head to the side to trail his lips down your neck. Pushing your shirt up desperately, your chest is exposed, his mouth immediately finding your nipple. 

Crouching lower, he kisses your belly, a warm, fuzzy feeling flourishing inside while his lips linger at the top of your jeans. Unbuttoning them, his nails dig into the squishy part of your hips, dipping his fingertips into your waistband. Pulling your jeans off your legs, he throws them behind him.

“Aw,” he chuckles and you look at him questioningly. “These are cute,” he says, running his thumb over your lilac panties covered in tiny blue butterflies, complete with a little bow on the front. Your cheeks turn bright red.

“Soobin—” you exhale. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not,” he smiles,  glancing up at you from between your legs, kissing you on the outside of your panties, your hands pulling on his hair. “They’re really cute.”

“Please, babe…” you whisper.

“You’re begging now?” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “You have to be quiet.”

After pulling your panties down, he flicks his tongue over your clit while you rush to cover your mouth to muddle your moans, your eyes squeezing shut. Sliding a finger inside you, he chuckles at your desperate attempts to stay quiet. 

Fuck, he gives such good head. And he knows it too. He knows how much this drives people crazy. How good he can make someone feel with just his mouth. 

Licking his finger clean, he reaches up to squeeze your tit, forcing a grown out of you. Someone walks right outside the door, and you panic, glancing around the room. Hands suddenly restless, his tongue never stops flicking your clit, drawing you right back in. 

Trying to control your movements and noise, your back arches and little whimpers sneak past your lips. You can’t help it. He’s way too fucking good at this. 

There’s a knock on the door. You gasp quietly, covering your mouth again and look down at him. He holds a finger up to his pouty smile slicked with your wetness and  he shushes you, your heart racing. They knock again, but his tongue returns to your clit, making the challenge of staying quiet impossible.

“Soobin?” The person outside says, jiggling the door handle, your breath shallow at the thought of them walking in on you. He ignores them, squeezing the widest part of your hips, increasing the pressure of his tongue.

Pulling his hair to force him to look at you, you raise your eyebrows, tilting your head toward the door. Standing, he whispers, “It’s fine. Just stay quiet, okay?” Pressing his lips to the sensitive skin right below your ear, his breath on your neck sends shivers down your spine.

It takes everything in you to admit this, but you whisper, “I think you should go.” Your chest heaves, but he just shakes his head, covering your shoulder in sloppy kisses, relief running through your veins. 

It’s his decision at this point.

“At least fuck me against that wall,” you point your head in the direction of the wall across you. “I think it’ll be obvious from the outside if you fuck me against this door.” 

He chuckles, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Lifting you into his arms by your fingertips, he presses you against the wall opposite of you, massaging your tits. Attacking you with his lips, your chest warms and your shoulders relax at his touch. He pulls away from you, tugging at your bottom lip, making you giggle with him, fingers fumbling with the waistband of his shorts. 

He pulls his shorts down to his thighs, gliding his hard cock over your pussy. Your arms instinctively snap around his shoulders, pulling him closer as you sink your teeth into his shoulder.

“Call me crazy,” you sigh, looking into his heavy eyes, glancing down at his swollen lips. “But you always taste so good after shows,” you whisper, dragging your tongue across his collarbone, his chest shaking with his chuckle. Tongue covered in his sweat, salty and mineraly, and absolutely delicious. 

Holding your leg in his arm, he uses his other hand to cover your whimpers as he slides inside you, not giving you the usual opportunity to adjust to the feeling of him. You simply feel too good right now. But of course—

“Feel okay?” He asks under his breath, always ensuring you’re having as good of a time as he is. He still refuses to move his hand, only looking for that gentle nod you give him. But he can’t resist kissing you.

Moving his hand from your mouth to your cheek to pull your face closer, he presses his lips to yours again, kissing your furiously, moaning against your lips.

Pulling on his hair, you whisper, “If I’m not allowed to moan, you’re not allowed to either.”

“Fine,” He chuckles. “No moaning.” Thrusting into you deeper, he circles your clit with his thumb, making your head reel. You gasp, biting your lip to keep the no moaning deal you just made. Pressing his forehead to yours, your shared breath on each other’s lips, his thumb moves to circle your nipple, the teensiest, tinsiest moan leaving your mouth.

Narrowing his eyes at you, he shushes you again and you roll your eyes, your hand snaking into his hair, gently tugging at it. As soon as he’s gotten used to not moaning, you pull his hair hard. Gritting his teeth, he hisses, making you giggle.

That would usually draw out an embarrassingly pathetic, utterly sexy moan from him, but— “Aw, you’re being a good boy and controlling yourself tonight, hm?”

His smile drops, his eyes turning dark as he pulls out of you to turn you around. Quickly pushing your chest against the wall, he thrusts inside you again.

“Fuck—” you start, but he shushes you harshly. Looking over your shoulder, he eyes your body up and down, thinking about something, but you just don’t know what. Pulling out of you as quickly as he pushed inside you, he turns you back around and lifts your leg to slide back into you.

“I need to see your face when you come,” he says.

There’s an edge to his smile. Your leg that’s still on the ground shakes from holding yourself up for too long, your head is spinning, your chest is on the verge of exploding.

Then he wraps his fingers around your throat, pressing your neck with your fingertips gently, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

The pleasure is too overwhelming. How deep he is, his hand on your neck, your tits bouncing to the rhythm of his thrusts. All of that paired with the fact you’re not allowed to make any noise is killing you. The corners of your eyes start to burn.

A few tears stream down your face and he slows his movements, loosening the grip on your neck, looking over your face, noticing the sparkle of pleasure in your eyes, the satisfied smile on your lips. He whispers in your ear, “Do I feel that good, baby?” You nod, pressing your hand to the outside of the one around your neck, silently telling him to tighten his grip.

He picks up speed again, kissing your tears away.

“So good,” you say, managing to keep it at a whisper as your eyes squeeze shut.

Reaching a spot deep inside you, you grit your teeth, your head falling back against the wall, pulling his hair harder than you ever have to let him know how close you are. Lifting your shirt frantically, his tongue finds your nipple while you rub your clit in circles, desperately chasing your orgasm. 

The fire in your stomach builds faster and faster, sparks flickering all the way to your toes. His fingers wrap around the back of your neck, pulling your face closer to his, touching your foreheads together.

Your walls clench tighter around him while he covers your mouth with his palm, his deep, dark eyes meeting yours to tell you to come.

He finally pushes you over the edge, coming hard around him, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Muscles tense and aching as he fucks you through your orgasm, sending shocks of pleasure throughout your entire body. 

Catching your breath, he moves his hand to let you smirk at him, his eyebrows furrowed, still focused on chasing his own high.

Burying his face in your neck, he kisses you over and over again, steadying your breath, a low groan coming from his throat. Lifting up to look at you, he says, “You feel—” But before he can finish his sentence, you cover his mouth with your hand.

“You gotta be quiet, baby…” you giggle as he drops his forehead to your shoulder.

“Come here,” he whispers, pulling out of you, bending you over the armrest of the couch and you shake your ass for him. He gives you a loud spank and you turn around to narrow your eyes at him gritting his teeth and eyes widening. “Oops.”

Pressing your lower back, he pushes himself inside you, legs shaking underneath him. He reaches the speed you know he likes, gripping a handful of your hair, holding back his moans. The grip he has on your ass tells you he’s close. 

Whispering little encouragements as he chases his high, his hips stutter against your ass. With a few final thrusts, he says your name, twitching and bucking his hips as he finishes inside you. The tight grip he has on your flesh releases as he comes down from high high. 

Slowly sliding out of you, he lifts you so your back presses his chest, kissing your shoulder.

Turning around and resting on the armrest, you pull him closer as his chest heaves, catching his breath. He presses his forehead to yours, his breath gracing your lips before he gently pecks them, warmth bubbling in your stomach, rushing to fill your body. 

Swaying side to side, he kisses your forehead. His eyebrows furrow, pressing his lips together, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs before he asks, “You okay?” 

“Of course,” you answer, pecking his lips. “Why?”

“You were crying.”

“Yeah,” you giggle. “Because it felt so good. I thought you knew that?”

“I thought so,” he nods. “I was just making sure. It did kinda scare me.” He pouts.

“Aw,” you wrap your arms around his neck. “I’m sorry.” He smiles, shaking his head. “Thank you for choking me, babe,” you say sweetly, trying to lighten this slight awkwardness. He’s still a bit unsure about you crying, but he knows it’s one of your things. It does turn him on knowing his cock brings tears to your eyes, but it can still be a shock sometimes. 

“Thanks for pulling on my hair,” he says, turning to pick up your panties and jeans. When he hands them to you, there’s a glimmer in his eye that makes you feel like the only person in the world that matters. You love that he can do that. That he can make you crumble underneath him to the point of tears, then look at you and tell you he loves you without saying a damn word.

After getting dressed, he’s gathering his things, singing songs under his breath. You hug him from behind, your arms wrapped around his waist. 

“You were so sexy tonight, babe,” you say, laying your cheek against his back.

“I know,” he says proudly, wrapping his hand around your forearm. He turns around, looking down at you with the cutest, sexiest eyes. “Thanks for coming everywhere with us. It has been so much fun having you at all our shows.”

“Ah, really?” you giggle. “I was worried I was kinda getting in the way.”

“What? No, of course not,” he says. “You’d never be in the way.”

[bluewxrld07]

love ain't so pretty (Luke Hughes)

Warning(s): angst, gold-digger accusations, self-doubt, insecurity

Summary: Y/n is a hard worker. She may not come from a family of wealth, but she doesn't let that define her. Until Luke says something inn which that something is said in a way he can never take back.

She was so overstimulated. She was tired, she was sweaty, she had stains on her shirt from a spilt coffee mishap.

Yet she still had that smile on her face as she greeted and bid farewell to regulars and other newer customers. Y/n wiped the sweat dripping from her forehead away as she finished wiping down one of her last tables for the night, pocketing the leftover generous tip she was left.

As she brought the dishes to the back and hung up her apron, she saw one of her closest coworkers, Grayson, making his way towards her.

"We're going out tonight if you want to join? Just to Don's down the street." he tells her as she helps the chefs with putting dishes in the sink.

She purses her lips. "Not tonight-" her coworker groans. "I promised Luke I'd come home tonight and watch the rest of the Frozen four game. UMich plays tonight, so he invited some of the guys over and wants us all there to watch it."

Grayson puts his hands on his hips and looks her up and down. "Girl, you are absolutely smitten by this man."

Y/n rolls her eyes, feeling her skin heat up. "He gets me what can I say. He's the first guy who likes me as a person. Not as just something with tits and ass." She jokes, earning a playful shove from him.

They laugh. "Hey those guys back then were fine as fuck and you know it." He shoots, earning a defeated sigh from her as she grabs her belongings.

"Yeah yeah, that was back then. I'm happier now," she chuckles, giving Grayson a hug. "Tell your man of the night hi for me though." she jokes, earning a snort.

"Oh you'll bet hearing about it tomorrow don't you worry." Graysons calls out to her as she walks off.

As she drove home that night, she felt more of the fatigue slipping in from her twelve hour shift, her feet beginning to slowly throb from being on them nonstop.

She knew she would regret taking another twelve hour shift for the fifth day in a row, but in all fairness she knew her paycheck was going to look super nice. Not that she minded working anyway.

Y/n has never had things come easy to her. She came from a family of the lower class, and she had done what she could to support them while also getting her education.

When it came to college, she knew that she wanted nothing more than to graduate with her Bachelor's degree in health science. That all came to an end when her mom died, and her father was struggling to pay bills. So she put her dreams and scholarship acceptance letters aside, putting her family first and working her ass off.

Now she was working as one of the partial owners of a very beautiful restaurant, making a decent amount of change and ignoring what everyone had said about her decisions of not going to college. Sure she still wishes she could have experienced the college life, but she knew that this life was better than spending the rest of her life paying off student loan debt.

She worked hard to get where she got to, and working where she does is what caused her to meet her now boyfriend of almost three years, and she would be damned if she would let Luke be the only one making the money in their relationship.

He has always made comments about how he could be their income, but it always needed with her saying she wanted to make her own money. As well as knowing she would get bored not doing something with her life, and she couldn't face the thoughts of him thinking she would become too reliant on his money.

She snapped herself out of the darker side of those thoughts, knowing she does work hard.

Y/n lets out a sigh of exhaustion as she made her way up the stairs towards her and Luke's shared apartment, the sounds of the guys voices being heard as she got closer to their place.

The girl opened the door quickly to not disturb their conversation being had in the other room, shutting it quietly as she took off her shoes.

She set her keys and purse on the rack, making her way down the hall and pulling her hair into a knot on the top of her head.

The guys chuckles and conversations dying down a bit as she cam into view, everyone giving her warm welcomes and 'hello's. She exchanged a few hugs and greetings to the Devils players in her household, soon making her way behind the couch to hug her boy from behind.

Luke lets out a chuckle as he felt Y/n bury her face in his neck and place a kiss there, his fingers caressing her wrists that were around his neck.

"How was work, baby?" he asks softly, she hums.

"Busy. Long. Grayson asked if I wanted to come out with him and the rest of the crew, but I just could not. I'm so tired."

"How many hours did you work today?"

"Close to thirteen. I covered for Miriam because her son was sick." she sighs, laying her chin on his shoulder.

Luke places a few chaste kisses on her cheek and temple. "You definitely deserve a drink or two though."

"Yeah, but I wanted to come watch the game with you and the boys. I also don't get paid till tomorrow, so I'd rather just keep the money spending to a tighter budget." she explains, earning a grin from Luke.

"I could've sent you money, love. You never go out really," he assures her, but she shakes her head and stands straight. She squeezes his shoulders.

"Not the point, baby. I don't need you spending your money on me. I make my own money, I don't want to rely on you, you know how I get with you spending money on me." she says, placing a kiss on his head.

Luke just sighs, and looks up at her. "Why don't you go shower, and I will grab you a drink and something to eat for when you get back out here?" he suggests, she grins down at him and nods.

Y/n walks off to their shared bedroom and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her to strip down.

The warm water instantly helps sooth her muscles and pains, earning some decompressing sighs of relief from her as she washes herself clean.

Once she is done, she steps out and heads towards the mirror to do her nightly routine. She shrugs on some cropped sweats and Luke's sweatshirt that was hanging up, brushing her hair after.

As she opens the door that goes back to their shared room, she sets her towel on her desk chair and goes to place her phone on the charger.

She pauses when she hears something from one of the guys, in which it makes her frown.

"Why didn't she go out tonight?"

She hears Luke sigh. "I don't know. She said something about not getting paid till tomorrow and being tight on her budget."

One of the guys snort. "What does she do?"

"She's a partial owner and full-time manager for that nice restaurant down the street overlooking the bridge."

It's quiet for a few seconds. "That's it? Nothing special?"

"Really? I thought she did something else," one guy chuckles.

"Nope, she's just over there." Luke answers quietly.

"No wonder she is tight on money. I thought she went to college and got a real job or something."

"I didn't know you'd stoop down to lower-class type girls Lukey," a guy jokes, making Y/n's insides churn.

"I don't that's the thing," Luke laughs, Y/n instantly getting closer to the doorway to hear what else he has to say. "She could definitely use the money I make here and there. She doesn't make shit compared to what I get."

Y/n's blood runs cold.

She knows she is not professional sports player, but she does make a decent amount, so hearing Luke say that makes her heart ache. The man that was supposed to stick up for her and love her regardless was saying things like this when she wasn't in the room. Who knew what else he was saying when he wasn't around her.

"Wouldn't you be worried about her becoming a gold digger though, man?"

Luke scoffs. "I mean yeah of course, but she's got this thing where she needs to prove to whoever that she can make money. So she will never accept a dime from me. She barely pays for our rent here, she pays a good forty percent. But without me around who knows if she'd have a roof over her head."

Y/n didn't even realize she was crying until she felt the drops hitting her toes, the girl instantly wiping at her eyes.

She couldn't listen to any more of their conversation, instantly heading towards their closet and grabbing whatever she could fit into the duffel.

If he was going to say this about her, making her sound like she could be so broke and so homeless if he wasn't around. She didn't want a man like that in her life.

Y/n grabbed her phone and charger, slipping on a pair of socks and her jacket before walking out of their bedroom.

She stormed down out past the group sitting in the living room, noticing Luke in the kitchen in her side view. She beelined towards the hallway that led to their front door, putting on her shoes as she heard Luke say her name.

"Where you going? I just finished making you your favorite!" he says in an excited tone. Luke's smile falters as he sees her puffy and red splotched face.

"Baby? What's going on?" he asked, as he began to walk towards her.

She just shook her head, grabbing her purse and keys. "I can't do this." she scoffs with a sniffle.

"Do what? Hey, hey, hey," he says, grabbing her waist to turn her back towards him as she begins to open the front door. His face falls completely at the sight of her broken one.

"I won't be some fucking charity case for you," she snaps. Luke's face frowning. "What?" he asks.

"I make more than enough money to be financially stable on my own fucking feet. I don't need you feeding some fucking lies to your so called friends that I can't pay shit. You chose the rent split percentage. You chose how much you wanted me to pay because you wanted to spend more on me."

Luke's face was white. "Y/n I-"

"No. I'm done Luke. Go fuck some high-class bitch that can afford everything you can and more. We're over."

Before Luke could get another word out, the door slammed in his face.

Luke backed away from the door silently, his figure coming into view to the boys who heard the door slam.

"Luke you good?"

He ran his hands through his hair, his eyes still locked on the door in hopes she would come back. Tears threatening to spill in his eyes.

"Luke?"

He turned away and towards the kitchen, swiping the glass on the counter away and letting it shatter on the fridge.

"I fucked up. Big time."

[lord-luminous]

Someone called Bill Cipher and Ford Pines a doomed soulmates pairing and I haven't been able to stop thinking about that.

Being doomed soulmates, to me, always felt intrinsically tragic. One of the few examples I could think off hand are Achilles and Patroclus, two people loved each other so much but they weren't destined for happiness. Greek heroes 99% of the time never are. Soulmates as a trope is defined in someone being destined to end up with their perfect match.

That's why Bill and Ford being doomed soulmates is so utterly fascinating. BillFord is probably the most anti-romantic pairing Gravity Falls (show) could honestly conjure. So much of that pairing is built on manipulation, lies and transaction. Bill is using Ford to get into the a physical realm so he can rule it, while Ford is idly using Bill to learn more things about the unnatural side of the world. So those two being soulmates on any level is going to be anything but healthy. I mean, even in the show, Bill tortures Ford for information.

Furthermore, it can be used in such fascinating theories and AUs. When we read the story as them as explicit doomed soulmates, while pairing information we have from the show and fandom theories you can bring to life fun concepts.

When the show was airing, there was a theory post-ATOTS that Blendin Possesed By Bill had messed with Ford's project to further ruin it than Stan had. Which is why it looked more damaged coupled with the "Blendin was here" with a triangle right there in the episode. So what if it was Bill that ruined the project? That would make the Stan Twins fight and go their separate ways, while this intentionally led Ford right down the path to meet Bill eventually in Gravity Falls. The path that eventually lead to their partnership, Ford being pushed into the portal, 30 years trapped in the Dream Dimension, and later, Bill's defeat.

And that's just one idea I came up for some random fanfiction floating in my brain. The reason I even like that particular concept is that it does more than absolve Stan of wrongdoing, but rather shows you how twisted Bill Cipher could be. There's more you can do with it. Doomed soulmates destined to find each other, and destined to ruin each other. Bill being half the reason Ford was pushed through portal or how he let Ford go insane through fear while Ford being a part of the Cipher Zodiac that could vanquish Bill or using the memory gun on Bill to erase him from existence.

It's so interesting because even if BillFord isn't my ship, you can unpack so much through their dynamic through this lens. Like what makes them click together and what drives them apart.

You guys might have already realized all this, but I just needed to get this off my chest. Finding out more about Bill and Ford's relationship has altered me on a fundamental level. Doomed Soulmates is actually the most appropriate way to define it. How else would you define it?

Thank you for listening to me, a semi-casual fan of Gravity Falls.

[sunny44]

Co-parenting (Part 3)

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x ex!reader

Warnings: medical center, cuts…

Summary: Co-parenting is never easy but y/n never thought it would be so hard.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Max and I haven't been able to go on that date yet. The first time, he had to cancel because he had to go to Milton Keynes for a meeting, and the second time, I had to cancel because Maeve and I got sick and I didn't want to go and risk getting him sick too.

But after several weeks we finally managed to schedule a day, and it would be today. Maeve is going to spend the whole weekend with Carlos, which would be great because even if he hadn't, I would keep my promise to introduce them only if it was someone I knew would stay in my life longer.

But he was late, and I was getting nervous because I had asked Carlos to pick her up at seven because Max would come to pick me up at seven-thirty. And besides not wanting Carlos to see him, obviously, I didn't want Maeve to see him either.

I heard knocks on the door and ran there to see Carlos.

"I know, I know, I'm late and I'm sorry. I had to wait for the plumber to fix a pipe that was flooding my apartment and he was late, and then I got stuck in traffic, and..."

"It's okay, just hurry up." I shouted for Maeve to come quickly and handed him the backpacks.

"Why the rush and why are you all dressed up?"

At that moment, Max parked, and I panicked. He got out of the car and was smiling until he saw Carlos and stopped smiling.

"Why is he here?" I didn't know what to say. "Are you going out with him? Is that why you wanted me to leave quickly? So that I wouldn't see you going out with Verstappen?"

"It's not because of that."

"Then why?" I didn't say anything. "Answer my fucking question."

"I didn't want Maeve to see, okay? Because I stick to our agreements, she doesn't need to know that I'm going out with someone, and neither do you."

"But why him?"

"Because he invited me and I wanted to." He laughed. "Look, I don't have to give you any explanations. Focus on taking care of our daughter and I’ll deal with my live life ok?" At that moment, she appeared.

"Sorry, I couldn't find Mr. Bibbles." She said, hugging her stuffed rabbit. "Can we go Daddy?"

"Yes baby." He picked her up, and they went to the front, and luckily Max had returned to his car when Carlos passed with Maeve in his arms.

"I'm sorry; I didn't know he would be here."

"It's okay, he was supposed to arrive earlier but got delayed. Neither you nor he were supposed to see each other.”

“You didn’t want him to know that you were going out with me?”

“Carlos and I have an agreement about relationships and I didn’t want him nor Maeve to know about it right now.”

"What kind of agreement?"

“We don't introduce anyone to Maeve without the other being aware, and not with a short amount of time in the relationship, you know? We don't want to put someone in her life just for that person to leave without explanation."

"I understand."

"Our separation was amicable but also difficult; she was small and doesn't remember, but she doesn't quite understand why her friends at school have parents together and she's the only one who doesn't."

"It's okay, you don't need to explain to me." He says kindly. "I can imagine how difficult it is to raise a child, and I also understand what it's like to be the child of divorced parents; I know you're doing the best you can for her."

"Thank you."

"Well, shall we go to our date? They say the third time's the charm." I laughed and went inside to grab my purse and my phone, locked the house and went to his car.

...

The date was great; he made me laugh a lot, and I hadn't had that much fun in a long time.

I felt light, and I felt like I could be myself without being defined only as Carlos's ex or as a mother; I could be myself again.

"Just a minute." My phone started ringing, and I saw it was Carlos. "Hello?"

"I'm sorry; I took my eyes off her for 1 minute, and..." I immediately got up.

"What happened?"

"Maeve and I are at the hospital."

"Which hospital?" I grabbed my purse and started walking towards the exit, and Max came along.

…

“What happened?"

"She was on the couch with me watching a movie and she asked me for a juice box when I went to get it, she started jumping on the couch and when I heard a loud noise, I went back, and she had fallen and hit her head on the table." He spoke quickly. "I'm really sorry; I..."

"It's okay."

"It's not; she cut her head and had to get stitches. I'm a terrible father."

"Carlos, stop." He looked at me. "These things happen; kids jump on things, they fall, and they get hurt, so stop blaming yourself."

"I was just so scared, and..." I hugged him.

"It's okay, everything will be fine." He hugged me back and relaxed. "What did the doctor say?"

"That it wasn't anything serious and that I did the right thing by bringing her as soon as possible; it could have been worse if she had fallen asleep after hitting her head."

"Okay, let's go in." He went in, and I turned to Max. "I'm sorry for ruining our night."

"You didn't ruin anything; our night was perfect."

"Except when I switched back to mom mode."

"Your daughter got hurt, and you did what any worried mother would do."

"Thank you for bringing me here too."

"You're welcome." He smiled. "I would love to go out again. If you want, of course."

"I would love to. I'll send you a message, and we'll make plans."

"Perfect." He said goodbye, and I went into the room.

"Mommy." I went to her and kissed her forehead.

"Hi, sweetheart, how are you feeling?"

"My head hurts and I'm very sleepy." She gave a little smile and blinked her eyes very slowly.

"It's okay, you can sleep again." I pulled the blanket up to cover her more, and she closed her eyes and was soon asleep, and I sat next to him on the couch there.

"How was your date?"

"We don't need to talk about that."

"I know, it was just a question."

"Let's just focus on her well-being and forget about today." He agreed, and we fell into silence.

And that's how we spent the night at the hospital until we could leave the next morning.

Bonus scene!

“What a wonderful night”

Tag list: @ietss @lightdragonrayne @asplarklysoul @xoscar03 @smdrl @shobaes @evans-dejong @cocoxoxo69 @ggaslyp1 @bingewatche @loaves4me @justdreamersdream @alinacecee

Guys, the names with a line on top is because I couldn’t tag

[redroomreflections]

Hotel California | Track 1: Smoke and Mirrors

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, frontwoman of the punk rock band Velvet Rebellion, falls hard for a woman she believes is too good for her. Their intense relationship unfolds in the chaotic world of rock 'n' roll, where they struggle to balance fame, personal demons, and their undeniable passion for each other.

W/c: 7k

Chapter 1/12

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: I was going to wait to post this since I have fifty-leven WIPs but to make up for me not being able to write for a while and also finishing two stories in the coming weeks - here we are. I'm nervous about posting this one for some reason. Hope y'all like it.

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

Track 1 - Smoke and Mirrors (each chapter is a track)

In the world of music, there's no denying that Velvet Rebellion's sound is electric, their melodies are undeniably addictive. But offstage, the drama and chaos surrounding this band have been the subject of endless tabloid fodder. It's a classic case of the music being sweet, but the rest of the package is a tad sour. Will their rock 'n' roll lifestyle ultimately overshadow their undeniable talent? That remains the question on everyone's lips.

The TV channel flicking produced a rapid succession of blips and static.

"You know, when it comes to Velvet Rebellion, it's clear that Natasha Romanoff is the best thing about the band. Her vocals are just on another level!"

"Oh, absolutely! Natasha's stage presence is incredible, and her voice, that raw emotion she pours into every note, it's what sets them apart. But let's not forget the rest of the band; they bring their own magic to the mix!"

Another press of the button. Another channel emitting the same rhetoric. 

"So, what are your thoughts on Velvet Rebellion, the band that seems to be taking the music scene by storm?"

"Look, I won't deny that they've had their moments. Natasha's got a powerful voice, and they've had some catchy tunes. But let's not forget, there's more to rock 'n' roll than just one person. We bring our own unique sound to the table, and we're here to show that rock isn't a one-trick pony."

Suddenly, the screen goes black. The television has been turned off. The room is silent. 

“Whatever,” The mysterious person tsks. There are better things to do. 

In the dimly lit room, the first flicker of a cigarette lighter illuminated a shadowy figure, and a guitar's haunting melody echoed through the air. It was a simple beginning, a humble birth of sound that would eventually become the anthem of a generation.

Images flashed in rapid succession—a chaotic whirlwind of memories and moments that had defined their journey from obscurity to stardom. The flashing lights of a small, dimly lit club, the very place where they had played their first gig, gave way to a sea of screaming fans, arms raised in fervent adoration.

“Bucky! Bucky!”

“Steve, we love you!”

Talk show interviews brought them into living rooms across the nation, their faces beamed into millions of homes as they shared their stories and their music with the world. The camera panned to Natasha, her fierce gaze unyielding as she answered questions with poise and grace.

And then, there were the guitars. Guitars being smashed in a blaze of glory on stage, a ritual that had become their trademark. The destructive catharsis of the act symbolized the release of their raw energy and passion into the world.

Groupies and fans clamored for their attention, their devotion evident in the longing looks and outstretched hands. Each face in the crowd told a story of how Velvet Rebellion's music had touched their lives.

Late-night studio sessions followed, with the band working tirelessly into the early hours, crafting the songs and lyrics that had earned them their place in music history. In the dimly lit room, the flicker of a cigarette lighter once again marked the beginning of a new song.

Magazine covers splashed with their images adorned newsstands across the country. Excerpts from clippings of their first studio album, "Velvet Love," told a tale of raw, unbridled emotion set to music—a story that had resonated with countless souls.

The montage painted a vivid picture of a band that had journeyed through the highs and lows of fame, never losing sight of the music that had brought them together. Velvet Rebellion had carved its path through the music industry, leaving an unforgettable mark on the hearts of those who had listened and loved.

*************

Sunlight filters through the curtains of Natasha and Wanda's cozy Los Angeles apartment. Disheveled yet determined, Natasha sits on the edge of her bed, cradling her guitar. She strums the strings absentmindedly, searching for that inspiration that once fueled Velvet Rebellion. Her fingers danced over the strings of her trusty guitar, each note a whisper in the quiet solitude of the bedroom.

Natasha's hair framed her face, and frustration lined her expression as she strummed the chords once again. The next album's melodies were meant to be born here. Yet, inspiration remained at arm’s length, teasing her like a fading dream.

"Come on Natalia," she whispered gruffly, remembering the name she had left behind long ago.

With a sigh, she shifted her gaze to the muted TV on the dresser. A NEWS REPORTER's face appeared on the screen, accompanied by headlines that could never escape the relentless clutches of the media. She searched for the remote to turn up the volume as the face of one of her bandmates, Tony Stark’s pictures appeared. 

NEWS REPORTER

(on TV)

“In a surprising turn of events, Velvet Rebellion's Tony Stark was arrested last night for public indecency.”

Natasha's eye-roll was instinctive. Tony always had a way of making headlines for all the wrong reasons.

NEWS REPORTER

(on TV)

“...fans and critics alike have noted the band's gradual decline, and it seems the once-revered punk rock indie sensation is now on the verge of falling apart.”

The reporter's words cut through Natasha's indifference, a scalding reminder of the shadows that had been gathering around them. She couldn't deny it; the band had been stagnant for too long.

Fury sparked in her eyes, and she clenched the neck of her guitar, momentarily abandoning the song. The Velvet Rebellion of yesteryears, the band that had ignited stages and won hearts, couldn't be reduced to this—a spectacle of controversies and dwindling star power.

Returning her attention to her guitar Natasha sighed. The room's stillness hung heavy as she gently laid the guitar down on the floor. It felt like a futile effort, the muse remaining frustratingly out of reach, leaving her with an empty canvas and an aching desire to create.

Her gaze dropped to the small, black notebook, its pages filled with aborted attempts to capture the essence of their experiences and emotions in song. But today, those pages mocked her, an unforgiving reminder of the creative void that had taken its home within her.

Just as her frustration reached its peak, the bedroom door swung open with a soft creak, and in walked Wanda, a bowl of popcorn cradled in her hand. She plopped down on the bed beside Natasha, her eyes rolling in a knowing, teasing manner.

“How’s writing going?” Wanda asked, grabbing a handful of popcorn to plop into her mouth. 

Natasha let out a weary sigh, her notebook momentarily forgotten as she shared her woes with her best friend.

“You have no idea. It's like I've hit a wall, and I can't seem to find my way around it.” Natasha said. “How are we supposed to come up with another album with no songs? It’s been two years. We’re going to be known as one-hit wonders.”

“First off that’s a bit dramatic,” Wanda attempted to calm her down. “We made the hot rock and alternative songs billboard charts for our debut. I think the momentum is still there.”

Wanda cast a glance at the muted TV screen, where a news reporter was still busy dissecting Tony's latest escapade. She couldn't help but roll her eyes, mirroring Natasha's exasperation.

“And of course, our dear Tony adds another branch to the publicity tree. It's almost impressive how consistently he manages to get into trouble.” Wanda shook her head. 

After placing her bowl of popcorn on the dresser, Wanda decided to abandon her sitting position and instead flopped onto her belly, propped up on her elbows. She grabbed Natasha's small notebook, a curious glint in her eyes as she skimmed through the handwritten lyrics and scattered notes.

“You know, Nat, I think I see where you're stuck.” Wanda hummed to herself for a moment. 

Turning her attention to Wanda, Natasha felt her frustration momentarily ebb away, replaced by curiosity.

“Oh?” Natasha eyed her. “Please, share your wisdom.”

Wanda's eyes sparkled with an unexpected idea, and she pointed to a particular verse in the notebook. Her voice took on a sultry, poetic quality as she suggested a new lyric.

“How about this: "In the shadows of desire, we ignite the night."

Natasha's eyes widened in surprise as the words resonated deep within her. She quickly reached for her instrument and strummed the guitar, incorporating the new lyric into the melody, and in that instant, it all fell into place. A smile grew on her face, and she turned to Wanda.

“Wanda, that's brilliant! Thank you!” Natasha leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “I know why I keep you around.”

Wanda beamed in response. 

"Speaking of," she began, her voice casual yet laced with an underlying purpose, "we've got a gig this weekend. It's a birthday party for Harley Jameson, you know, the producer's daughter."

Natasha's response was swift and uncompromising, her will clear in her refusal. Her head shook slightly as she firmly voiced her decision, her thoughts already drifting toward the disturbing pattern of her bandmates taking liberties with decisions without consulting her, the lead.

"Absolutely not, Wanda," Natasha declared, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. “Aren’t we better than performing for snot-nosed brats?

Wanda, ever patient and understanding, propped herself up on her elbows. 

“Well, when that snot nose brat is paying us fifty thousand dollars plus a retainer,” Wanda shrugs. “And all the booze and food we want.” Her words were measured, spoken with the calm that came from knowing this conversation was inevitable." Nat, remember," she began, "you're the lead, not the boss. We haven’t been taking gigs because you've been declining. You know we need to keep the momentum going."

Natasha's jaw clenched in frustration. She leaned back, her gaze shifting to the ceiling as she contemplated her response.

"There's a reason, Wanda," Natasha explained, her voice tinged with concern. "Our brand has taken a beating lately with all the scandals we've had over the years. It’s not a good look being so new. I want us to lay low for a while, let the storm pass."

Wanda sighed, her eyes reflecting her understanding of Natasha's concerns. But she also recognized the band's need to keep going ahead despite the challenges.

"Nat," Wanda said, her voice gentle and reassuring, "I get it, I really do. But we'll be fine. Harley's party should be a breeze, and I promise we'll stay out of trouble. We'll stick to the music, no antics."

Natasha's hesitation lingered. Ultimately, the trust she had in Wanda, her lifelong friend and partner-in-crime, began to outweigh her reservations. She finally nodded, a reluctant but willing acceptance of the gig.

"Alright, alright," Natasha conceded. “We'll do it. But just this one, and we'll play it safe."

Wanda's eyes sparkled with a victorious smile, recognizing that she had won this battle for now. With that agreement, they returned to their songwriting. 

**************

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the manicured lawn of Harley Jameson's grand estate, Velvet Rebellion gathered on the makeshift stage. Around them, staff and party planners began to decorate the backyard. Their instruments glistened under the setting and stage lights. 

Natasha, her guitar slung securely across her shoulder, couldn't help but notice Tony, seated behind the drum kit, his sunglasses doing little to hide the lingering effects of his earlier indulgence. She approached him with a stern expression, a hint of frustration in her voice.

"Tony, you better get it together," She warned. "We're not messing this up tonight."

Tony, ever the charmer, brushed off her concerns with an easy smile and a wave of his hand.

"Nat, I promise, I'm fine. See?"

With that, he launched into a lively drum solo, his sticks dancing skillfully across the drumheads. The rhythm was tight, the sound electrifying. Natasha couldn't help but acknowledge his undeniable talent, even as she sighed in resignation.

"Great," she muttered to herself, "the sunglasses are his secret weapon now."

Standing beside Natasha, Steve placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. His quiet and calming presence was a balm to her nerves.

"It's alright, Natasha," He reassured her, his voice steady and comforting. "We'll get through this gig, just like our old days. Tony’s recovering but he seems fine."

Together they glance back to their bandmate who was more than likely inebriated. Tony chugged a bottle of water, before crushing it and dropping it down onto the floor beside him. 

Natasha's gaze softened as she looked at Steve, a small smile forming on her lips. “Yeah, he’s the epitome of fine.”

“Okay,” Steve pulled her gently to the side. “What’s the problem?” 

“Nothing,” Natasha shrugged. “I just can’t help but think that gigs like this are beneath us. I mean we went from performing at the MTV Video Music Awards to this? A sweet sixteen?”

Steve looked at her. He had been through thick and thin with Natasha and knew the depth of her concerns. 

“Natasha,” He replied. “I get your worries, but I promise this is a good thing for us. Todd Jameson is one of the biggest music producers in Hollywood right now. There will be a lot of executives here just to support his daughter. Think of what that could mean for us.”

“Fine,” Natasha nodded. “But if he fucks up I kick his ass.”

“Oh, you bet. Right after I’m done kicking it,” Steve joked causing Natasha to burst into laughter. 

Natasha steps back over to the mic. “Alright let’s take it from the top.” 

As Natasha prepared to lead the band into their rehearsal of the first song, the peacefulness of the backyard rehearsal space was abruptly disrupted by the arrival of Harley Jameson. She swept onto the scene with all the extravagance befitting a Hollywood princess, accompanied by a harried-looking party planner and another woman, who appeared to be a guest.

Harley, the embodiment of a spoiled heiress, immediately began issuing orders with a sense of entitlement that left the party planner flustered.

"No, no, no! These decorations are all wrong! Change them around! The mirror ball should be over here. And I want a live peacock by the pool. It's not too much to ask, is it?" Harley demanded impatiently.

The party planner, clearly overwhelmed, tried to keep up with Harley's demands. "Harley, we only have a few hours before the party starts. It's going to be challenging to make all these changes in such a short time."

Harley huffed, uninterested in the logistical challenges she was causing. "I don't care about that. Just get it done. My dad said I could have whatever I wanted."

Meanwhile, Harley's attention shifted to Velvet Rebellion, her face lighting up with enthusiasm.

"Oh, my God! I've been dying to meet you! I'm a huge fan!" she exclaimed with excitement. “I’m so happy I could get you here.”

She bounded over to the band, seemingly oblivious to the chaos she was creating, and introduced them to the party planner and you.

"This is Velvet Rebellion!" Harley introduced with enthusiasm. "Steve, the keyboardist, Tony on the drums, Bucky on the electric guitar, Wanda, the second lead singer and bass guitar, and Natasha, the incredible lead singer!"

You and the other woman exchanged glances, your expressions a mixture of frustration and amusement at the whirlwind that was Harley Jameson. You gave a small wave, opting to be in the background of this exchange. 

Wanda, ever the peacekeeper, managed to maintain her composure and put on a friendly smile despite Harley's overwhelming energy. She nodded graciously at Harley's enthusiasm.

"Oh, thank you so much, Harley!" Wanda replied with genuine warmth. "We're thrilled to meet you too. Your party looks like it's going to be incredible!"

Harley's energy showed no signs of waning as she delved into the details of the band's performance. When Wanda mentioned their planned first song, "Smoke and Mirrors," Harley immediately piped up with an alternative suggestion.

"No, no, no," Harley interrupted with fervor. "I want you to start with 'Ink and Whiskey.' It's my favorite!"

Natasha, who had been preparing to protest the sudden change to their setlist, hesitated as she saw Wanda's meek demeanor. However, it was clear that Harley's demand had disrupted their carefully planned sequence.

Natasha began to voice her concerns, but Harley's retort was swift and smart-mouthed. 

“We’ve already planned this out for-” Natasha began. 

“Oh, you can change it, can’t you? It’s just a silly setlist,” Harly questioned. 

Before Natasha could respond, you intervened with a calm yet authoritative tone.

"Harley, let's tone it down a bit," You advised, your demeanor oozing an air of authority that surprised Natasha. Harley listened, her earlier defiance giving way to a more composed demeanor.

“Sorry, I’m just excited,” Harley shrugged. 

Natasha found herself intrigued by your presence and the respect Harley seemed to show you.

"Alright," Natasha conceded with a smile, "since it's your birthday, we'll start with 'Ink and Whiskey.'"

Wanda offered a nod of agreement, and the tension in the air began to dissipate.

Harley, feeling triumphant, turned her attention to the party planner.

"Sarah, darling, let's make sure everything is perfect. I want it to be a night to remember!" Harley changed the subject, pulling you both back into a conversation with ease. 

Sarah, the party planner, nodded and tried to hide her relief that the brief crisis had passed. 

"Of course, Harley. Everything will be just as you want it."

Natasha watched the exchange between Harley and Sarah, her curiosity piqued more by you. 

“Who’s the chick?” Natasha pointed over to you with a tilt of her head. She got shrugs from Steve and Bucky. Tony was way too distracted to answer as he flirted with one of the staff. Wanda squinted to see if she could guess. 

“I don’t know,” Wanda said. “She looks vaguely familiar, but I’m guessing it’s not her mom.”

“Interesting,” Natasha mumbled to herself. She shook her head. There was no time for whatever the thumping in her heart was proving to be. She was here for the band and for the music. Also for the money, she couldn’t forget the money. 

As the preparations for the party continued, your cell phone suddenly rang, breaking the conversation flow. You excused yourself with a polite smile and stepped away from the group, heading toward a quieter corner of the backyard a few feet away.

Natasha couldn't help but overhear snippets of your conversation, the tone of your voice suggesting a heartfelt exchange, likely with a significant other. Natasha discreetly glanced in your direction, her curiosity getting the best of her.

Your voice held a gentle warmth as you spoke softly into your phone, your words filled with affection and longing.

 "I miss you too, sweetheart. Yeah, the party's getting started here in a couple of hours. It's not the same without you. Can't wait to see you soon." You smiled. 

Natasha couldn't hear the other end of the conversation, but the tenderness in your voice painted a clear picture of a loving connection between you and someone special.

Meanwhile, Harley, always the inquisitive host, began questioning Steve and Bucky about the band and its music.

"So, guys," Harley started, her interest genuine, "Have you ever thought about going solo? I am dying to know the secret."

Steve and Bucky, accustomed to answering these questions, engaged in a friendly chat with Harley, even if they also found her annoying. 

As Natasha discreetly observed you from the corner of her eye, she couldn't help but be captivated by your natural beauty. You were dressed in a simple white t-shirt and form-fitting jeans, a look that should have been unremarkable, but on you, it was utterly captivating.

The way your hair was styled, framing your face in soft waves, added to your appeal. Your skin had a radiant glow, and your features held an understated elegance that drew Natasha's attention. Despite the casual attire, you exuded a timeless charm that was impossible to ignore.

Natasha found herself admiring the effortless beauty that seemed to emanate from you and she wanted to know more. 

Just as Natasha started to pretend she wasn't eavesdropping, you turned around with a warm smile, catching her off guard. She quickly toyed with her microphone stand, feigning indifference.

You found her reaction amusing but were soon drawn back into your phone conversation. Natasha couldn't help but wonder about the person on the other end of that call and what had sparked such a genuine smile on your face. 

She toyed with the mic stand for as long as possible, physically forcing herself not to look your way. It’s a few more minutes before you returned to the group. You turned your attention to Harley and Sarah.

"Harley, don't forget, you have that hair appointment in an hour," You reminded her, glancing at your watch. "We need to make sure you're all set for your big night."

Harley, momentarily distracted by the band's presence, nodded in agreement.

"Oh, right! Thanks, y/n. I'll head out now," Harley replied with a grin. She turned to the band and offered her farewells. "Catch you all later!"

With that, Harley and Sarah departed, leaving Velvet Rebellion alone in the backyard.

As the group began to disperse, you took a moment to say goodbye to the band. 

“See you guys tonight,” You said. “I’m sure you’ll do great. If you need refreshments just ask one of the staff and they will be happy to help you with anything you need.” 

Natasha responded with a small smile and a nod, a subtle acknowledgment of the brief but pleasant interaction.

Once you, Harley, and Sarah were out of earshot, the rest of the band couldn't resist teasing Natasha. Wanda, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, chimed in.

"Uh oh, I know that look," Wanda teased, earning a knowing chuckle from the others. Natasha's momentary fascination with you hadn't gone unnoticed, and her bandmates were more than happy to playfully nudge her about it.

“There’s no look, I don’t have a look.” Natasha rolled her eyes. 

“Sure, you don’t,” Wanda grinned. “Any bets on how long until she gets her number?”

“I say within the hour,” Tony raised his hand pulling out a single, crinkled five-dollar bill from his back pocket. 

“Fifteen says they sleep together after the show,” Bucky shrugged. Steve is the only one to remain silent. 

“I don’t know,” Steve scratched the back of his neck. “I think I’ll save my thoughts for later. The girl barely said two words to any of us.”

“Thank you,” Natasha said. “Now, can we rehearse like a proper band?” 

She tried to erase your image from her head as she positioned herself in front of the microphone. 

From the top. 

*****************

The night was alive with energy as Velvet Rebellion took the stage, the crowd gathered around, eager to soak in every note of their music. Natasha oozed confidence and charisma, a star in every sense of the word. The opening chords of "Ink and Whiskey" filled the air, and the crowd erupted in cheers. This birthday party was a rager if she’d ever seen one. Natasha always considered rich people stiff and uptight. Going to plenty of parties once their debut kicked off their careers. Stiff drinks, weird pleasantries, and even more drugs. She was being proven wrong with this particular shindig. 

She moved to the edge of the stage, her presence magnetic. She sang with a passion that could be felt in every corner of the space, her voice carrying the weight of their lyrics. The audience couldn't help but be drawn into her performance, and they eagerly joined in, singing along and dancing to the beat.

Wanda, standing beside Natasha, bled a different kind of cool and calm. Her steady presence provided the perfect balance to Natasha's fiery performance. It was clear to anyone watching that their dynamic was the secret to their success.

Natasha lowered her head, giving Wanda the floor to sing her part of the chorus. Wanda’s hands moved steadily between the chords as she sang into the microphone. 

Ink and whiskey, the pages of our hearts,  

Tangled in the chapters where love starts,  

In the darkness, our secrets we confide,  

With every word written, our souls collide

Natasha steps forward, moving close enough to the microphone so that she and Wanda could harmonize the last verse. Her eyes travel from Wanda’s, smiling as they share in the energy and joy of being on stage before she maneuvers herself to face the crowd. 

In the night's embrace, our love's sweet refrain,  

Ink and whiskey, like a runaway train,  

Through the highs and lows, we'll find our way,  

With every word we write, love's here to stay

In the front row, Harley danced with her friends, reveling in the music and the excitement of the night. The atmosphere was electric, and the joy was contagious.

As Natasha sang, she scanned the crowd, her eyes landing on familiar faces among the sea of B-listers and music enthusiasts. But the one that stood out the most was you. Your eyes locked, and Natasha couldn't resist a playful wink, a silent acknowledgment of your earlier encounter.

You raised your glass in a silent toast and clapped enthusiastically when the song came to an end. You weren’t a huge fan of the music genre but you could see why Velvet Rebellion was such a rising star amongst new artists. Their stage presence was undeniable, the song was catchy and the beat was electrifying. It helped that Natasha was cute. All good things in your book. You can’t take your eyes off the stage as they move into their next song. It’s a bit disjointed considering Harley made them change the setlist around the last minute but it seems smooth either way. Natasha dances a bit for this one, her body movements fluid and effortless. Almost as if she’s had some training. 

You’re momentarily distracted when a distant family member comes to say hello. 

The show must go on as Natasha continues to sing her heart out. 

**********************

The final notes of their setlist rang out, and the crowd roared in appreciation. Velvet Rebellion had given their all, and now it was time for the DJ to take over and keep the party going.

Wanda had convinced Natasha to stay a while longer, promising that the night was still young and full of possibilities. Tony, ever the charmer, remarked with a grin, "I see a few MILFs in the crowd that I wouldn't mind mingling with." He slipped into the crowd with ease, chatting up the first single woman he saw. 

Natasha, however, remained all about business. She stood at the bar, surveying the party and keeping a watchful eye on her bandmates. The chaos and revelry around her seemed to blur into a colorful swirl of dancing bodies and laughter.

It was then that you approached her, catching Natasha's attention. Your presence was a welcome change of pace, and Natasha couldn't help but appreciate the genuine compliment she received.

"You guys were incredible," You said with a smile. "I'm impressed."

Natasha, always a woman of few words in such settings, offered a gracious nod of acknowledgment. 

You extended your hand with a warm smile as you introduced yourself, "I'm y/n. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Natasha shook your hand firmly and replied, "Natasha. Likewise."

You couldn't help but notice Natasha's reserved demeanor. Almost as if she felt too cool to be here. 

"I couldn't help but wonder," You began, your curiosity evident as you raised your voice above the music. "why aren't you out there dancing like the rest of your bandmates?"

Natasha offered a wry smile and shot back, "I could ask you the same thing."

“Touche,” You nodded. “I’m not much of a party girl.” You turn towards the bartender. “Do you want a drink? Eric here makes the best mojitos.”

“Sure, I’ll have a sex on the beach,” Natasha asked. 

“You heard the woman,” You jokingly said to Eric as he began to make your drinks. As you focused your attention on grabbing a few napkins, Natasha gave you a once-over. Your party dress was a delightful balance of simplicity and style. The knee-length and backless dress showcased a flattering silhouette, hugging your curves in all the right places. The deep, midnight-blue fabric was decorated with tiny, shimmering glitter that seemed to twinkle with each movement you made. Its sweetheart neckline and delicate spaghetti straps added a touch of femininity to the ensemble, while the mid-thigh slit allowed for easy movement as you moved. The overall effect was a cute yet elegant dress that perfectly suited the festive atmosphere of the party.

Natasha's observant eye caught the jewelry adorning your wrist. It was subtle but tasteful, hinting at a level of refinement that didn't go unnoticed. It was at least half of her salary for tonight’s show. This only interested her more. She needed to know who you were. She wanted to know the mystery behind you and your name. 

“Here you go,” You step back over to Natasha to hand her a drink. “I hope I’m not being too forward.”

“Not at all,” Natasha shrugged. 

"You know, if you're looking for a bit more quiet, we could step inside for a breather." You suggested, tilting your chin towards the house. 

Natasha considered the offer, realizing that a change of scenery might be a welcome respite from the party's chaos. With a small smile, she agreed, "That sounds like a good idea."

You led Natasha through the sea of people and inside the mansion to a nearby office where the music's relentless thump was muffled, and the atmosphere was quieter. It was a welcome change from the frenzied party outside.

As you settled into seats close to each other on the couch, drinks in hand, Natasha couldn't help herself and began to ask you questions. 

“Why did you ask me in here tonight?” Natasha asked. “Not that I’m complaining. I have been invited into much worse places.”  

“Thanks, I think,” You chuckled. You sensed Natasha's curiosity and offered a simple explanation, your eyes holding Natasha's in an unspoken connection."I enjoy meeting new people," you confessed, your voice soft but sincere. "And I've decided I wanted to talk with you."

You took a sip of your drink, your gaze thoughtful. "I also wanted to apologize for Harley's behavior earlier. She can be... spirited at times."

Natasha waved off the apology with a small smile, understanding that spirited was one way to describe Harley's antics.

You went on to explain, "Usually, I don't speak up like that, but my uncle has a way of spoiling Harley. It's... complicated."

Natasha's curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, "Your uncle? He’s Todd Jameson?"

You took a moment before revealing, "Yes. He and my dad are half-brothers. Making Harley my little cousin. I don’t admit it often."

The revelation left Natasha intrigued. She had heard the name Todd Jameson before, a figure of significance in the entertainment industry. The connection between you and Harley was now becoming clearer, and Natasha couldn't help but wonder about the family connection.

“That would make your dad…” Natasha began. 

“Nick Fury, the one and only,” You finished for her. “Different fathers. My dad is somewhere out there tonight. It’s a thing I don’t like to admit to strangers.”

“I get it,” Natasha nodded. 

The revelation about your family connection to Todd Jameson made Natasha pause for a moment. She had always admired the award-winning jazz player turned talent manager, Nick Fury, from afar. His contributions to the music industry were legendary, and Natasha couldn't deny that she was a fan of his music.

She decided not to fangirl, though, and instead offered a genuine smile. "Your dad is a legend. I've always been a fan of his music."

Your eyes lit up with appreciation. "Thank you, Natasha. I'll be sure to pass that along to him." You set your half-empty cup onto a coaster, before turning back to Natasha. “So, watching you on that stage. Not many people have that star power. I was wondering if you have experience dancing? You were incredible.” 

Natasha's eyes sparkled as she recalled her performance. "The way I danced on stage during our set, it's a part of who I am. I guess you could say it's a bit of my background showing through."

Your curiosity piqued, and you guessed, "Ballet, then?"

Natasha nodded. "Yes, I did ballet for sixteen years as a child. I even got into Juilliard."

Your eyes widened in admiration. "That's amazing, Natasha. How did you get into singing and music?"

Natasha took a sip of her drink and smiled as she delved into the story of how she got into music. It was a story that she didn't often share, but there was something about her conversation with you that made her feel comfortable opening up.

"It all started back in high school," Natasha began. "I was really into dancing, and it was an elective at my school. But then, one day, I decided to join the choir on a whim. And I fell in love with singing and songwriting. I grew up in a rough neighborhood. I needed something to keep me out of the house and off the streets."

She paused for a moment, reminiscing about those early days. "So, I started writing songs, and my friends Wanda and Steve would go over to Steve’s small bedroom. We'd play our rented instruments and experiment with different sounds. It was just a fun little hobby at first."

Natasha's gaze drifted, lost in the memories of those simple beginnings. "Then Bucky, Steve’s best friend well, he's always been a bit of a troublemaker, but he's got a talent for the electric guitar. And Tony...his dad's pretty wealthy and bought us all our equipment. Plus, he's good at the drums."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "It was a bit of a motley crew, but that's how Velvet Rebellion came to be. We started playing in small venues, dive bars, and country clubs. And somehow, we made it here."

Natasha's usually guarded demeanor had softened in your presence, and she found herself enjoying the opportunity to share a piece of her journey with someone who seemed genuinely interested in her story.

“I love that,” You nodded. You and Natasha share a smile before she asked. 

“Is your boyfriend here tonight? I don’t want to keep you too long,” She fished for more information. 

“No, no,” You shake your head. “No boyfriend. You?”

“Not really into monogamy at the moment,” She shrugged. She doesn’t know if this statement will bite her in the ass later but for some reason she trusted you. “Tell me about you. Are you in the family business or?”

"I've always had a bit of a connection to the music world," You began. "As a teenager, I sang a few backup vocals for artists my uncle produced. I guess you could say I almost pursued a career in music, but life had other plans for me. I got pregnant at seventeen. Dedicated to finish school and go to college."

You took a thoughtful swig of your drink and continued, "Now, I'm a publicist. I don't mean to brag, but I'm good at what I do.When I'm not working, I'm taking care of my daughter, Isabella. She's nine years old and the light of my life."

Your face softened as you spoke about your daughter, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and joy. "She's with her dad for the weekend," you added, "and we co-parent quite well."

Natasha was genuinely interested in your life outside of the party scene, and she couldn't resist asking, "Do you have any pictures of Isabella? I'd love to see her."

Your eyes twinkled with delight as you pulled out your phone and began to share a few adorable images of your daughter. Natasha couldn't help but smile as she admired the photos, enjoying this glimpse into your world beyond the music and the party.

“Here she is at gymnastics practice,” You flipped through a few pictures of Isabella’s smiling face. “And swim. She is a little spitfire and she wants to do it all.”

“Wow,” Natasha smiled as if Isabella were her own child. “Do you ever want more?”

“Maybe one day,” You said wistfully. “For now I feel pretty full with everything in life. You?” 

You noticed the change in Natasha's expression and asked, "Is something on your mind?"

Natasha sighed, leaning back into her seat. "I just don't know if I'm cut out for motherhood," she admitted. "I have a younger sister, Yelena, she’s attending the University of Cambridge in England now. She's even developed a bit of a British accent." Natasha couldn't help but chuckle at the thought.

"But," she continued, "I enjoy the fast-paced life, the music, the performances, and the constant movement. A significant other won’t quite understand that I don't always have the time. Not that I don’t ever want that someday but…” Her voice died down. 

You listened empathetically, understanding the complexities of Natasha's life as a musician. "I get that," you acknowledged. "But it's essential to find the right balance for you, whether it's in your music career, personal life, or something in between. My dad was able to do it. When he crossed over into hip-hop there was definitely a lot he missed but he still made things happen"

“Really? Well, I will have to ask him for pointers.” She grinned. 

Just as the conversation was reaching its peak, there came a polite knock at the office door. A member of the party staff popped in to inform you that they were ready to sing "Happy Birthday" to Harley.

You turned to Natasha with a warm smile. "It was nice meeting and talking to you, Natasha," you said genuinely.

Natasha, not wanting the connection to end, began, "You know, I'd love to..."

But before she could finish her sentence, your cheeks flushed, and you interrupted already knowing what she was going to say, your voice bold, "Are you going to call me, or are you going to leave me hanging in the wind?"

Natasha couldn't help but laugh at your sudden assertiveness. It was a pleasant surprise. "I’m not that type of woman," Natasha said. At your look, she laughed again. “You got me there.”

You returned her smile and handed Natasha your phone, saying, "You'll just have to trust me with your number instead, and I'll call." Asking for her number instead eased the pressure off Natasha, and also your nerves at hoping she’d call. 

You gave Natasha a wink and chucked a thumb over your shoulder to indicate you were going back to the party. Natasha nodded and watched you walk away. When her eyes trailed lower she doesn’t even feel guilty about it. 

Natasha left the office, rejoining her bandmates outside in the backyard, just as they were preparing to sing "Happy Birthday" to Harley. The festive atmosphere was in full swing, and the energy of the party was infectious.

As the crowd gathered around Harley, Natasha's eyes scanned the faces, and they landed on you, who was standing among the partygoers. Your eyes met, and you shared a knowing smile, a silent acknowledgment of the connection you had developed.

Tony, always quick to pick up on things, couldn't help but tease Natasha when he noticed her grin. "So, did you get her number?"

Natasha rolled her eyes at Tony's assumption but then burst into laughter. "No," she replied with a playful smirk, "she took mine."

The party was still in full swing when someone on stage stopped the music with a loud, "Hey, everyone! Can I have your attention, please?"

The spotlight shifted to the stage, and all eyes turned toward the source of the interruption. It was a friend of Harley's, and he had a mischievous grin on his face as he spoke into the microphone.

"I have a special surprise for our birthday girl tonight," he announced. "We have someone here who's agreed to sing 'Happy Birthday' to Harley, and I think you're all in for a treat."

A collective cheer and applause erupted from the crowd as they eagerly anticipated the surprise. The spotlight moved to you, highlighting your face and putting you on the spot. You managed to not look like a deer in headlights which was a feat in itself. Natasha's curiosity was piqued, especially considering you had mentioned you weren’t much of a singer.

You tried to protest shyly, but the crowd begged you to come up on stage. Encouraged by their cheers, you reluctantly made your way up to the spotlight.

Once on stage, you cleared your throat and took a deep breath, your nerves palpable. You began with a little birthday speech, your voice tinged with affection and humor.

"I want to wish a happy birthday to my cousin Harley," You began, your smile directed at the birthday girl. "Even though she's a bit of a brat," you teased, earning laughs from the crowd, "she's my brat, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

Then, as expected, you began to sing "Happy Birthday." Your voice, which you had modestly downplayed earlier, was nothing short of remarkable. It was soulful, sweet, and filled with a depth of emotion that resonated through the entire backyard.

The crowd, including Natasha, was utterly blown away by the unexpected talent that you possessed. Your voice filled the air, making the birthday celebration even more special and memorable. It was a moment of pure magic, and Natasha couldn't help but be captivated by your incredible singing ability.

Natasha decided two things then and there. One, she really liked you, and two, boy, was she in for a ride.

---> next part

[just-aake]

Thankful for You

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: You invite a mysterious red-haired stranger to join you for a Thanksgiving dinner. 

Warnings: light fluff, light angst

Words: 2547

Sitting alone on a bench in some park, Natasha looks up at the sky when the sound of thunder rumbles and echoes through the trees. 

Soon, she feels drops of water drip down her face as rain begins to pour all around her. She must have looked crazy to anybody who saw her, drenched from head to toe, just sitting alone in the park and staring stoically at the sky.

It didn’t matter though. There was no chance of anyone being around at this time anyway, given what day it was.

Thanksgiving Day 

A time when friends and family spend time with their loved ones and express gratitude for the good things in their lives. 

Natasha’s lips twitched slightly with a hint of amused resignation at the thought–the holiday defined everything that she didn’t have.

No friends – the mission in Budapest with Clint helped form a good teammate relationship, but even after other missions together, they have not reached the point where Natasha believes Clint has trusted her enough to be considered friends, and that sentiment is also returned by her.

No family – she was abandoned by her actual mother when she was a child, and as for her other temporary family, she has not tried to find any of them; though, she hoped Yelena was still alive and able to escape after Dreykov was killed.

No good thing in her life – she has been trained to be a killer her entire life, doing terrible things for others just to survive. She has always been a tool to be used. Now after recently joining Shield, she is still not sure if there will be any changes to her life that would ever be good.

There is nothing for her.

Natasha closes her eyes as she lets the rain hit her face, hoping that time will pass by quicker and end this dreadful day so that she can return to work and go on missions again. 

Suddenly, the consistent sound of rainfall is interrupted by a small splash in the distance, which Natasha already deduced as a single person’s footsteps.

With her eyes still closed, Natasha’s brow twitches slightly when she realizes that the steps are coming closer to her position. However, judging based on the unhurried pace and sensing no malicious intent from them, Natasha ultimately decides there is no threat with this newcomer.

They are probably just another individual on their way to some Thanksgiving party or dinner.

Natasha is about to return to her previous mindless thoughts when the footsteps suddenly stop.

In front of her

Natasha frowns when she no longer feels the cold touch of rain falling on her. Opening her eyes in confusion, the first thing she sees is the underside of an umbrella hovering above her head. 

Following the stem of the umbrella down to the hand holding it, her eyes eventually meet yours. 

Standing in front of her, you give her a small smile as you hold the umbrella above the two of you, shielding both of you from the rain.

Natasha glances down at your other hand, which holds a couple of bags of what looks like drinks and snacks.

When she returns her gaze to yours with a questioning look, your smile turns sheepish, unaffected by the intimidating glint Natasha has in her expression.

“This might be weird and a bit forward,” you start before nodding your head in a particular direction, “but would you like to come back to my apartment to dry off and wait out the rain there?” you offer her gently.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

In the hallway of your apartment building, Natasha stands with her arms folded, closely observing you as you fumble to find your keys. 

She is still unsure about why she accepted your offer. 

Maybe it was a curiosity to understand the kind of person you are—whether genuinely generous and kind or perhaps just naive and clueless. 

Or worse, you might just be offering help only to boost your own ego and feel superior; she’s met enough of those kinds of people during her brief time at Shield already.

Seeing you continue to struggle with the bags, umbrella, and keys in your hands, Natasha wordlessly extends her hand toward you in a silent offer. 

You pause at the gesture, your mouth opening slightly in surprise.

“Thanks,” you say softly, accepting her offer of help.

Natasha raises an eyebrow curiously when you only hand her some of the bags, not all, just enough relief for you to find the key and open the door of your apartment.

Walking into the apartment, you leave the door open almost as if it were an invitation to her, with no pressure to accept. 

She could just walk away and leave now, forgetting that she ever met you.

Again, Natasha doesn’t know why she decides to enter. 

However, maybe this time, it is partially due to the fact that she is still holding some of your bags from earlier.

Once she closes the door behind her, your voice calls her from the kitchen, and when she comes closer,  she sees that you are already in the process of sorting your items into their appropriate area. 

Glancing up at her approach, you ask her casually.

“So what’s your name?”

In response, Natasha presses her lips in a thin line, deciding on how much she should share with you, given her new 'clean slate.'

At her hesitance, you give her an amused smile.

“You know, it doesn’t have to be your real name. I just need something to call you instead of saying, ‘Have a seat, stranger’,” you tease lightly.

Understanding your point, Natasha contemplates for a second before settling on a safe option.

“Call me Nat.”

You repeat the name a couple of times softly under your breath before nodding your head satisfied and giving her a welcoming smile. 

“I’m Y/n.”

“Y/n…?” Natasha trails off in question for your last name, her instincts automatically activated to obtain as much information as possible.

You chuckle amusedly at her, going over to her to grab the bags from her hands. Turning around, you make your way back to your kitchen.  

“You never gave me yours,” you point out over your shoulder.

Natasha’s eyes widen slightly, impressed at your deflection. So, you are not completely naive. She decides to initiate another conversation to learn more.

“You know, it’s pretty reckless to invite a stranger into your home,” Natasha points out as she examines your living space. It was a small apartment but comfortable for one person to live in. She can spot your personal touches throughout the area, making it feel cozy and warm.

“It’s pretty reckless to follow a stranger to their home too,” you quip back at her. “What if I was a serial killer?”

Natasha huffs in disbelief, shaking her head and crossing her arms. 

“I don’t think so.”

You shrug casually as you take the remaining items out of the bag. 

“You’re right. I don’t think I even have the strength to take somebody down.” 

Finally finished with putting away your things, you lean back against your kitchen table, crossing your arms in a similar position as her.

“You, however, definitely look like you know how to fight,” you state plainly.

Natasha frowns skeptically at your wording, her defenses raising slightly in preparation.

Seeing her expression change defensively, you relax your posture and gesture to her body in explanation. 

“Your wet clothes are sticking to your skin, and I can see your muscles and abs from here.” 

Examining herself, Natasha can see what you mean. Her light clothes clinging to her skin reveal the contours of her toned body clearly.

Natasha returns her attention to you when you snap your fingers. 

“That reminds me. I need to get you some dry clothes. Wait here,” you tell her.

Before Natasha can respond, you leave through another door that she assumes is your bedroom. 

Natasha remains in her position, staring at where you left in confusion as she tries to figure you out. 

You’re not evil or dangerous–she is certain about that. You’re also not completely clueless and blindly trusting. 

And you are honest but careful. She recognizes the subtle hints of caution with your actions and words, but you don’t overtly show distrust towards her. 

You give off the impression of making an effort to maintain a welcoming atmosphere with her, but Natasha can sense that this isn’t a familiar territory for you.

It feels like a door attempting to close, yet a small invisible force is working to keep it open.

She is brought out of her thoughts when you return to the room and stand in front of her.

“Here you go,” you offer some clothes to her and then point to another door behind her. “Bathroom’s right there, and there should already be some towels that you can use to dry yourself off in there.”

You tilt your head curiously when she doesn’t move. 

“Thanks,” Natasha finally whispers before taking the clothes, her hand touching yours lightly. That brief touch left a lingering warmth in her hand as she headed to the bathroom. 

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Upon leaving the bathroom, Natasha is greeted by the beeping of the fire alarm and the sight of you standing on a chair, fervently waving a towel at the smoke alarm.

You don’t notice her presence when she quietly joins you in the kitchen, too focused on your task of silencing the annoying beeping sound. 

Standing on your tiptoes to reach the smoke alarm button, the chair beneath you wobbles as you shift your balance. After finally pressing the button, you exclaim softly in victory, but the chair wobbles again, causing you to lose your balance.

Instinctively, your hands reach out for the back of the chair or table to stop your descent, but to your surprise, instead of cold furniture, you feel a warm touch. 

Natasha gently holds your arms in a supportive grip, steadying you back on your feet. 

“Be careful,” she cautions lightly.

When you don’t respond and just stare at her in surprise, she raises a questioning brow at you.

Shaking your head lightly to snap out of your thoughts, you give her a small, appreciative smile.

“Thanks,” you tell her before turning to look at the pot on the stove and then back to her with a sheepish expression.

“I hope you like slightly burnt mac n cheese.”

The two of you sit across each other in silence as you both eat the dinner that you made.

Natasha eats slowly, glancing at you whenever you are not looking in observation. The food tasted normal, nothing special, but for some reason, every bite she took made her feel this warmth inside.

Eventually, you break the silence with a question to her.

“So, Nat, you had any Thanksgiving plans?”

“No.”

You nod your head in understanding. 

“Yeah, me too. I didn’t even plan on making anything tonight, but I thought maybe I could make you a small Thanksgiving meal. Luckily, I found some of these mac n cheese boxes in the cabinet. But if you are still hungry, there are also some chips and cookies that you can snack on.”

Natasha’s lips quirked up slightly, amused at your rambling.

Your eyes widen at the sight before pointing out happily.

“Oh! You smiled. I was hoping to cheer you up, even if just a little.”

Natasha furrows her brows curiously at your words, giving you a questioning look at what you meant.

“Why did you invite me here, Y/n?” Natasha asks.

You sit back against your chair at the question, already expecting it eventually. Playing with the bottle in your hand and spinning it on its edge in a random pattern for a moment, you finally let out a deep breath.

“To be honest, I saw you earlier today when I left. Then again, on my way home. You had the same sad expression during both times,” you admit softly before raising the bottle to your lips.

You shrug nonchalantly, saying, “I guess, something about the way you looked reminded me of myself.”

Natasha watches you take a sip as she tries to understand the meaning of your words.

Seeing her confused expression, your smile turns downward slightly as you explain.

“My parents passed away on Thanksgiving.”

You wave away her concerned gaze reassuringly.

“It happened long ago. There was a car accident on the way to a Thanksgiving gathering. I was upset at something stupid at the time like most teenagers do, so I didn’t go with them.”

You let out a regretful breath at the memory, a brief lingering sadness in your eyes before shaking your head and giving her a rueful smile.

“Typically, when this day comes around, I get too depressed to be around anyone, but when I saw you, I had a sudden thought.”

You lean forward, placing your hands on the table, and raise your eyebrows at her as you explain.

“On the day when people gather together to be happy and thankful, I thought why don’t the two sad souls also try coming together?” 

At Natasha's doubtful expression, you continue your explanation.

“Maybe there’s a chance we can cheer each other up, even temporarily, and if we can’t, then we can always just be sad together.”

Natasha stares at you with wide eyes, astonished at your words. You are even more intriguing than she thought.

You give her a small smile at her reaction, turning one of your hands upward in an open invitation to her.

“What do you think, Nat? Do you feel a little bit better or should I just bring out the entire case of beer for the remainder of tonight?”

Staring at your open palm offered to her, Natasha notices the same lack of pressure to accept as before. 

That’s when Natasha realizes something.

For the first time in a long while, in an unfamiliar apartment, wearing clothes that weren’t her own, and eating a slightly burnt meal prepared for her, Natasha was experiencing an unexpected sense of comfort and warmth, relieving her of the previous emotions that had weighed on her before. 

All thanks to you.

And as she expected, when Natasha places her hand atop yours, she feels your warmth spreading to her through your touch.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The next morning, as you enter the living room, you are not surprised to find the empty couch, with neatly folded blankets and your clothes on the cushions – no signs of yesterday's guest.

Turning around to prepare for the day, you notice a small note on your kitchen table and, upon reading it, you smile gently.

Sorry, I left without a goodbye. I had to leave early. I wanted to let you know, compared to my original plan for this holiday, I’m glad I spent it with you. Maybe next time we meet, I can make you a meal that isn't as burnt as thanks. From one sad soul to another. – Natasha Romanoff

You say her real name out loud softly with a small smile, grateful that you took the chance to meet the mysterious stranger. Anticipation builds as you look forward to the next opportunity to see her again.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thanks for reading! I am still working on Boundless Devotion. I just got a little busy lately. Hope you all have a happy Thanksgiving!

[velchronica]

blue lock boys’ perfect matches ( part i ) ♬~*.°₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ bllk

charas: isagi, bachira, chigiri, kunigami, reo (seperate, aged up/pro, fem!reader)

୨୧ * my personal hcs on who the bllk boys would fall in love with, how they’d meet and some scenarios unique to their relationships * just for fun -> nothing serious ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ * (part one/???)

isagi yoichi! ˖♡ ࣪‧♫ ₊˚໒꒱⋆✩

୨୧ * i feel like isagi would probably be the type who falls in love with the sports journalist interviewing him 😭 he’s such a football nerd & he’d defo suit someone who understands his passion, esp on a technical level. he defo rambles and borderline mansplains his tactics and plays to a sports journalist!s/o, but i also think he’s good at finding a decent work-life balance, so sports isn’t everything in your relationship.

୨୧ * isagi’s ability to separate his professional life aka his football ego/persona from his sweet irl personality would make him a green flag bf, bc he defo puts in as much effort into his relationship as he does football. he loves football, but he also loves his s/o just as much, if not slightly more, so while football is a prominent part in both your lives, it isn’t necessarily the defining factor in your relationship.

୨୧ * i also think isagi would date someone driven towards their own career, even if it’s not journalism. he defo would LOVE you in sporty clothing or leggings that show off ur thighs cos he has a canonical thing for those lmao. oh AND he’s the type who’s quite good with kids but has a level of awkwardness with them still, so watching his s/o struggle to interact with them would set him up for a laugh (w/ no ill intent, ofc). but if you’re really good with kids, no problem, because he’ll just watch you with sparkling eyes full of awe, heart swelling with unbridled affection.

୨୧ * he would defo be the perfect bf if you’re a picky eater cos he’ll find ways to work with your preferences but also encourage you to try new foods. the gentlemen who whisks you out everywhere to try new cuisine at nice restaurants and sneakily pays mid-meal during a ‘bathroom break’ so that when you attempt to pull your card out afterwards, he can simply smile and shake his head. goddamnit isagi. his argument is that growing up average and then getting propelled into wealth and fame means that he jumps at every opportunity to spoil you and show you off. you’re beautiful inside and out and he won’t treat you like anything less than a goddess.

bachira meguru! ˖♡ ࣪‧♫ ₊˚໒꒱⋆✩

୨୧ * bachira’s ideal s/o is either someone who loves retro 70s clothing, an indie band kid, or both combined. i feel like bachira’s goofy ass would go well with someone sweet, but not quite as hyperactive as himself. his ideal s/o is definitely either a bookworm or a guitarist, with no in between. he’s defo such a gremlin with you, either interrupting your peaceful reading sessions by being clingy and demanding cuddles, or asking you to play his favourite songs instead of the things you’re meant to be practicing.

୨୧ * bachira would go to every single one of guitarist!s/o’s gigs. he loves you so much, after all! you can hear his holler of your name over the crowds cheers as the speakers blare and your strings come to life. he’s not a memorisation-strong kind of guy, but he definitely knows all the lyrics to your favourite songs, and the lyrics to your originals, too. he has two versions of each one of your albums, one for the cd and one to add to the house-of-cd-cases-turned-shrine he has assembled somewhere in your apartment.

୨୧ * whereas with bookworm!s/o, bachira got his mom to teach him how to paint so that he could do those viral page-edge paintings. on your birthday, he gifts you hardback copies of your favourite books with intricate fore-edge paintings to match. if your favourite book has a movie or tv show adaption that you love, he definitely painted your favourite scene. although he’s not an avid reader, bachira will listen to your attempts to summarise a recently-read novel, even if he’s not quite following by halfway through.

୨୧ * he also only sporadically posts on his socials, but when he does, it’s usually random shitposts or spam posts of the two of you together. maybe at a gig or at a bookstore, but they’re all ‘artistically’ blurry. still, both of your smiles are clearly visible despite the lack of phone camera focus.

chigiri hyoma! ˖♡ ࣪‧♫ ₊˚໒꒱⋆✩

୨୧ * if you tell me this man wouldn’t date a a fashion magazine editor!s/o, you’re lying. he’s such a princess, and i can just imagine him as being a passionate fashionista as well, so i think he’d suit someone with a similar love for and knowledge of style. bring this man to fashion week please. actually, he probably met you there. he defo also impulse buys designer, whether it’s bags, clothes or just a pair of shades. he’s a diva like that /hj

୨୧ * shopping is a battle to the death between the two of you on which store to go in next. there’s not enough hours in the working day to account for your retail therapy sessions, given how long the two of you spend browsing the aisles together. at some point you panic, wondering where you’ve misplaced $500 of clothes, until your boyfriend rolls his eyes and shakes the bags he’s holding. you don’t even remember giving him the bags.

୨୧ * the two of you definitely rate and critique met gala outfits together. contrary to what most may believe, it is a NEED, not a want. when someone comes wandering onto the red carpet dressed in this year’s fashion monstrosity, just know that the two of you will be referencing it for days if not weeks, because really, how could anyone have the guts to go out wearing that?

୨୧ * just hope that you’re good with hair, because this fussy princess isn’t going to let you within ten feet of his if you have a brush in hand and you aren’t. his hair is his prized possession for all that he does the bare minimum to look as dazzling as he does, and chigiri would rather not ruin it. but if you’re good at elaborate and pretty hairdos, just know that his winding down comfort time is letting you try out new styles, strands of pink dancing over one another as they’re weaved into place by your fingers.

kunigami rensuke! ˖♡ ࣪‧♫ ₊˚໒꒱⋆✩

୨୧ * kunigami’s so highschool sweethearts-coded. maybe you started dating before blue lock and persevered through his change in persona, knowing full well that his kind and hardworking self was still present under the gruff, cold exterior. maybe he pined after you hopelessly for years until stumbling upon you years later. either way, he’s been madly in love with you since your high school days, and don’t think he’ll ever stop.

୨୧ * but like oh my god, this man would SO date a kindergarten (or elementary school) teacher!s/o. someone who is doting and good with kids, but is also hardworking and knows how to reward people efforts or work on their lack thereof. maybe it’s his superhero agenda but i think early years teachers are heroes in themselves, teaching young children valuable life lessons and basic skills and subjects, and therefore i think kunigami would really suit a teacher!s/o.

୨୧ * bring this man to meet your students and give them an assembly on how taking care of themselves plus hard work are the keys to fulfilling their dreams. the way these kids would be screaming because their sweet, humble teacher is dating football phenomenon kunigami rensuke, and he’s here to tell them that alcohol and nicotine addictions aren’t healthy. plus, eat your greens, kids. you’ll become a superhero in no time.

୨୧ * kunigami is either hopeless at cooking, five star michelin-worthy malewife chef material, or, the most boring option, the most mid chef of all time. ‘mid’ as in, he can put together a decent meal but nothing mindblowing, only occasionally tries to cook something new. i like to think that as the middle child, his older sister is a lost cause when it came to cooking, and his younger sister is quite the closet gourmet, so he knows how to cook pretty damn well. just know that after a long day, if he’s home earlier than you, you can expect an array of delectable dishes and the most delicious feast you can imagine waiting for you.

mikage reo! ˖♡ ࣪‧♫ ₊˚໒꒱⋆✩

୨୧ * i feel like reo would date someone who is far from having grown up well-off, maybe someone who grew up with difficult domestic circumstances, someone who’s fought tooth and nail to reach where they are today. for this reason, i feel like he’d date a corporate ceo!s/o. he admires how you’re both self-assured and self-made, and how your success bloomed from your own efforts and skill. to reo, who’s grown up with privilege and wealth without ever really having to try before he found football, he can’t help but find your work ethic and resilience attractive. they say confidence is attractive, after all.

୨୧ * he loves to spoil you, but he definitely doesn’t buy your love. while a good portion of his gifts to you do involve a waving of his black card, and are often designer, he also likes the authenticity of doing something for you. after all, with all the money in the world, he worries material goods may seem like half-assed presents that can’t even convey half of his feelings towards you. especially a ceo!s/o, because he’d hate for you to feel belittled by his love just because he was born into money. that won’t do at all! so now reo invests a lot of his spare time learning to do things himself, so that he can then do those things for you.

୨୧ * one of those things was pottery. prior to the two of you moving in together, he had been taking classes on ceramics and pottery so that he could surprise you with his hand-crafted and painted dining set. plates, mugs, bowls—each of them were painted with motifs relevant to places you’d been together. from the tropical beaches of bali, to the mountain views of peru and even the most famous italian vineyards—every plate was painted to bear some resemblance to the backgrounds of photos you’d taken at these locations. after all, reo is quite the globetrotter, because he loves going on adventures with you.

୨୧ * but sometimes the best days are days when you can laze about together. listen, reo’s always been the type of guy to never have a moment of rest. he always had so many things to do, because he was so good at everything that people usually required more of him. not that it was impossible for him, but it did mean a lot of his life was always scheduled out, busy and hectic. that’s why reo relishes in the moments where can relax in your arms, away from prying eyes, the paparazzi, the outside world—he loves how you can make a day full of nothing everything to him.

© velchronica 2024

[slttygeto]

SIX THIRTY | KAWATA TWINS

synopsis: you were part of their childhood, their best friend and maybe even more. but are you down to let them love you in a different way?

content warning: threesome, both nahoya and souya fuck you (not at the same time), unprotected sex, p in v, cunnilingus, pet name (baby), they are willing to share you (and you accept of course).

word count: 3,7k 

note: thank you to the lovely @mztoman​  for supporting me as an artist! commissions are still open by the way :) 2 slots are left!

Sharing is part of any twin’s life growing up. Food, toys, maybe even friends—at one point, you get used to the fact that what is yours is also your twin sibling’s. Now, Nahoya and Souya didn’t exactly enjoy that, but it did help grow their bond stronger. From joining Toman together, to having the same group of friends—the brothers grew attached to one another and even made promised to always protect the other when in danger.

You were nine when you first met the Kawatas; rebellious, a duo of troublemakers, but funny and sweet—you remember first meeting them on the playground of the apartment complex you and your parents had just moved in. Something about having orange and blue hair could never go unnoticed, and soon enough, they started a conversation with you.

“You are new here,” the orange haired is the one who speaks first, his twin brother hiding behind him. That gave you an idea on their dynamic.

Plus, he wasn’t asking you, he was stating that you were new here—that he has never seen you before, and you were nodding along to his sentence.

“I am,” you were as tall as them, confident but a little shy. Nahoya noticed how you kept wiping your hand on your skirt nervously, and cocked an eyebrow in confusion.

“Are you scared?” you weren’t, but they seemed so… cool. You didn’t have friends, and your parents warned you when picking who to hang out with. And when you saw the orange haired one fighting those who bullied his brother, your heart called out for them.

“No,” you start, a little unsure if you should say this next, “I just think you’re so cool.”

And that blew Nahoya’s mind away. He’s been called a troublemaker before, mainly negative stuff regarding his behavior or outbursts but…cool? Only Souya has called him that, so this felt new.

Souya on the other hand was a little jealous. His brother was getting all the attention for being the hero and coming to save the day, and what was he getting? Nothing. It made his child brain feel all fuzzy—he was upset. He always sported an angry look, but he knew that right now, he was pouting.

“Here,” you reach your hand towards the younger twin who immediately looks at what was in it. A handkerchief.

“You should wipe your face with it, or at least get your mom to clean the cuts. Mom says cuts can be ugly when they’re not treated fast.”

Even at a young age, you’ve always been such a sweetheart. So caring and full of love. You had so much to give and expected nothing in return—truly a blessing.

So it was no surprise when years passed by, and you were still friends with the Kawatas. Although ‘friends’ is far from what you would define your relationship with them.

There was a hint of a friendship there, but on the surface it seemed as the two men were completely and utterly obsessed with you (and rightfully so). They weren’t sure if you felt the same, if you would go as far as they would for you. But one thing was certain; they wanted more than just a friendship.

From your point of view, you were close to them. You’ve seen them grow into handsome, strong men. They were still doing what they always did—being in a biker gang. It didn’t seem that serious at the time, but the more you looked into it, the darker things got. They told you everything you needed to know about Toman, but they tried their very best to shelter you from the dangers of their job.

 Nahoya

Coming home for dinner

Souya

We’re bringing pizza, don’t cook anything.

 There it was again, the princess treatment.

Even a decade later, they made sure to remind you that you didn’t need to lift a finger when they were around (and you appreciated that greatly). Things happened, you grew up and moved into your own place and they still made sure that you apartment wasn’t that far from where they work. Ensuring that they could pay you a visit whenever they could.

And soon enough, they were at your doorstep. They didn’t need to knock since they had a spare key, so you didn’t bother to pause the show that you were watching when you heard the rustling of keys outside your door.

“What if I was trying to break in,” came Nahoya’s voice first, and you flashed him a smile from your position on the couch.

“Then you would be one sloppy robber,” you teased, looking behind him at his twin brother who was taking off his shoes. You noticed that he had carefully placed the pizza boxes on the counter and your eyes sparkled when you noticed that it was from your favorite place.

“Oh my god! I’ve been craving pizza from this place!” you got up from the couch, pulling them both in a hug. “Thank you both, so much.” You say before planting a kiss on each of their cheek.

They shared a knowing stare, one that you always said was creepy twin telepathy, but this time they hoped that you wouldn’t push them away or find them weird.

To put it in short words, you felt like home.

Never in a million years did they think they would sit down and talk about having feelings for the same person—hell, they even thought that they had different types.

But then you came along, like the sweetheart that you are, and proved them wrong. They were aware of how unusual it would be if they were to admit that they liked the same person and were willing to share her so casually, but they didn’t care (and it’s not like people couldn’t tell that they were infatuated with you).

And as you ate dinner, unaware of the bomb that was about to be dropped on you, the men chatted and laughed with you like it was any other day. They didn’t want to risk ruining your night, or potentially lose you as well—but liking you has been consuming them whole, taking up so much of their time and thinking and something needed to be done. No matter the outcome.

Souya would be lying if he said that he wasn’t nervous that you would pick one over the other, mainly because he thought (and was so sure) that you would pick Nahoya over him just because of how much you two bicker. You’ve shown him how much he means to you, cuddled with him after a horrible day, and even cooked his favorite meal—but the man was just so sure you would not choose him.

Nahoya stands up from the couch and turns off the TV. You are confused for a moment, even go as far as to smack his shoulder.

“What was that for? I was watching!” You were met with complete silence from both men who usually nagged you about the shows you watched.

Growing aware of how quiet the men suddenly got, your stomach twisted in a mixture of confusion and anxiety—what was going on?

“Guys?” your voice was small, and they felt so bad that they were putting you through this.

“I actually—well, we actually have been meaning to talk to you about something.” Nahoya starts, and he looks over at his twin brother to let him continue.

“Oh god, are you two moving out? Did I do something?”

“(Name),” Souya cuts you off, and this is the first time you heard him use such tone with you. He couldn’t blame you, you were nervous and things suddenly took a turn for the worst, rambling was a very natural reaction.

“You guys are scaring me,” you were near tears, and they both wanted to do nothing but hold you and tell you everything will be okay.

“We are not leaving you, we’re not moving away either it’s just—“ how was he supposed to say this now? Planning it out was easy, but saying it…fuck, he was so scared of what might happen when it finally comes out of either his or Souya’s mouth.

“We like you.”

What?

You were frozen, lips parted in shock. This was not what you were expecting to hear on movie night—it was supposed to go well, be enjoyable and fun and now they were--

“We do, and it’s not just me or just him which is really fucking unusual—we can’t really imagined letting the other have you because it’s unfair, we wouldn’t normally do this with just anyone—“ Nahoya continues. This was actually happening.

“And you’re not just anyone…I’m really sorry sweetheart,” Souya adds, sensing just how confused you were.

“You can take all the time that you need to give us an answer, we’re leaving in a bit for a work trip. And no matter your answer, nothing will change.”

“…nothing?” You ask in a small voice, and if it was any other day, they would’ve dropped to the ground. You had that much effect on them.

“Nothing, I promise. Movie nights will still be a thing, we will still come over when you’ve had a shitty day—it will still be us,”

It has been exactly five days since the last time Nahoya and Souya came over. You’ve managed to think everything through, tried to come up with reasons as to why you might not feel the same way. How it could potentially ruin the friendship, maybe you didn’t find them attractive? Bullshit. You just couldn’t find a good enough excuse.

You did like them back—craved being with them, but the idea of dating two men has always seemed new, foreign. You could only imagine the weird stared as you walk down the street holding hands with both—but then again, who cares? You knew you wanted them and no other person, you couldn’t think of anyone who could make you as happy as they do (and have done for the past decade). The thought of losing them scare you to no end.

You went with no contact with them for the past one hundred and twenty hours—you were anxious, a little scared even if you knew you had nothing to worry about. You did like them back after all.

Maybe it was the fact that you had gone out and bought yourself new lingerie to surprise them that made you so nervous. You were waiting for them to walk through your door and be pleasantly surprised when they see you, maybe a little shy and taken aback? You just knew you wanted their jaws to drop and their hands to be all over your body.

And soon enough, you were hearing a very familiar sound of keys rustling at your door. You were sat on your couch in one of Souya’s large hoodies, no bottoms and socks Nahoya that had gotten for you for your birthday, what was hiding under the large clothing would soon enough have them swooning for you.

It was silent when they walked in, the blue haired male making an entrance first and expecting you to be asleep—which you weren’t.

“Hey,” you exhaled nervously, fiddling with the hem of Souya’s baby blue hoodie. You felt exposed, vulnerable under the guy’s stare. And it only worsened when his twin brother appeared next to him.

“Hey pretty,” Souya started, a little unsure of what was going on. Nahoya on the other hand was pretty quick to catch onto your little game.

He leans against the door’s frame with a little grin that never seemed to leave his face. It was mischievous, playful—he could tell you were blushing.

“You’re such a treat, aren’t you?” Nahoya says in a whisper, and Souya’s eyes light up at the suggestive tone. So this is where things were going.

You didn’t flinch, nor stare at them weirdly when the older twin spoke, and that alone gave Souya the green light to slowly approach you. Pulling you up and towards him, you were a bit taken aback that he was the one initiating things and not Nahoya (having always thought that Souya would be a bit more submissive in bed, but you weren’t complaining).

“I’m gonna need a verbal response before I do anything,” Souya whispers, but his voice in loud enough for his brother to hear. They needed to make sure you were okay with their confession, their proposal to share you and if any of this was making you uncomfortable.

“I’m all yours,’ was what you said, before Souya’s lips were kissing yours with so much passion. His fingers quickly went up to the back of your head to gently grip your hair, pulling you closer to him.

He was such a passionate kisser, nothing like you imagined—but again, you weren’t complaining. Your hands rested on his shoulders as your lips moved against each other, it felt so perfect to have him up against you like this. His hands then traveled down to your ass, softly gripping the flesh over the fabric of your (his) hoodie before letting out a groan.

You were far too gone from Souya’s kiss to notice Nahoya slipping behind you, while you kissed his twin brother and let him feel you up, he pushed your hair away from your neck to plant gentle kisses to the skin. You’ve always been a tease with the outfits that you wore, showing off parts of your body that they craved to touch, kiss and love on the same way they were about to.

You were truly blessing them right now.

“Wanna take it to your room?” Nahouya whispers in your ear, grinning at the little moan you let out against Souya’s lips when his lips leave yours to press hungry kisses on your throat. Fuck, they were so good and you weren’t even getting to the good part.

“Bed, please.” And who were they to deny their little princess?

The trip from the couch to your room was very short, mainly because your legs were wrapped around Nahoya’s waist as you kissed, his legs getting you there faster, while Souya tagged along in the back. They didn’t bother to lock your room’s door before Nahoya was plopping you down on your mattress, and jumping back on you to kiss you again.

His kisses were a lot gentler than Souya’s, a tad more playful and definitely enjoyable. Your hands traveled up to his hair, tugging at the roots to let him know that he was doing such a good job (although you grinding up against him was enough encouragement).

Their dynamic in the bedroom was already showing, because while Nahoya was on you like a beast, Souya was taking his time ridding himself of his jacket and shirt, anything that could get in the way of feeling your skin against his. So impatient and needy, but fuck it was so attractive to watch him that eager to feel you.

Pulling away from the kiss, Nahoya’s hands played with the hem of your shirt, silently asking you if he could take it off. You didn’t hesitate as you took it off in one swift motion, watching as the men’s jaw went slack at the sight of you in the pretty lingerie set you had just bought the other day.

This is the reaction that you wanted.

“Pretty?” your voice was small, shy but you knew what you were doing. Nahoya’s hand went to the back of your neck, pulling you back into a deep kiss as his other hand went behind your back to undo your bra, freeing your boobs in the process. You felt the other end of the bed dip as Souya joined on top, his hand immediately fondling with one boob.

“Fuck, you’re such a tease.” The older one says as he pulls away from your lips, tracing his tongue over your neck and down to your chest. While Souya’s hand was massaging one of your boobs, Nahoya takes the bolder approach and licks at your hardened nipple. This makes you hiss, eyes staring down at the two men worshipping you like you were a goddess.

Souya lets go of your breast and leans down, mimicking his brother’s action and engulfing your boob in his mouth. You were growing hot and bothered, your moans were uncontrollable and filled the entire room within seconds of having their mouths on you. You could only imagine what was about to come.

It felt as though they heard your thoughts, because they were pulling away from you at the same time to fully strip themselves of their clothes. Their eyes were filled with lust, and you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

Nahoya was silent as he pulled you down towards him, hands gripping the back of your thighs before pushing your knees to your chest. He admires you for a second, breath stolen from him at how fucking needy and ready you were to have them fuck your brains out. So fucking pretty.

“Think I won’t take your panties off, you look pretty good in them.” He teases you, lips brushing against your ankle before he was staring at his brother, waiting for a response.

“Push them to the side though, I wanna have a taste,” Souya’s voice added in, and Nahoya was quick to get off the bed while still holding your legs against your chest. He allows Souya some space between your legs, and watches as you eagerly try to look at how he was so eager to taste your pussy.

“You like it, hm?” You nod in response to Nahoya’s question, a shy moan leaving your lips when you felt the other one push your panties to the side and lick a stripe at your clit. His tongue felt warm and wet, pressing the right way against you. Your hips bucked with every lick, and the louder you got, the more prominent the bulge in their pants became. Your neediness sent the blood rushing south, your teary eyes and pouty lips were so tempting, but Nahoya promised himself that he would get to fuck you first and missionary. He wanted you to look at him while he fucked every single thought out of that pretty head of yours.

Your first orgasm of the night washed over you so nicely, Souya’s lips kept kissing and pressing on your clit even as you tried to push him away. He pulls away for a second to kiss your thighs, and watches intently as Nahoya takes off his boxers and lines himself at your folds. The tip of his cock teases your entrance for a moment, takes in how wet and ready you were for him, before pushing in slightly.

“Hold on tight baby,”

That was the last thing he said before everything around you started feeling fuzzy. His pace was unforgiving, sharp thrusts hitting the right spots all while groaning in your ear about how fucking good you felt wrapped tightly around him. Nahoya had a foul mouth, kissing and licking at your neck while praising you and your pussy for taking his cock like a champ. Wet sounds filled the room, the squelching of your pussy as he pounded into you was the only thing that you could focus on despite the obscene words leaving his mouth.

Souya was sat on the bed, watching as his twin brother pounded into you and left you a drooling mess. His cock sat heavy on his palm as he stroked it, letting out a few moans that caught your attention and had you taking your eyes off of Nahoya for a moment before said man was reminding you of who you should be looking at.

“Eyes on me baby, I’m not done with you.” His hand wrapped lightly around your neck, and he leaned down to press his forehead against yours to stare deeply into your eyes. His hips were driving against yours at a dizzying pace, each thrust, each stroke of his cock getting you closer to a delicious orgasm.

It only took another few strokes and a kiss to your lips before you were cumming around him with a loud cry, your thighs shaking around him. Nahoya helps you ride out your orgasm sweetly, reaching his own high right after you. He kisses you softly, brushes your sweaty hair out of your forehead. And soon enough, Souya was replacing his brother’s position between your legs.

“My turn.”

He kisses you sweetly as he pushes himself in, apologizing that he was too needy to wait and promises to make it up to you when you’re done. Unlike his twin brother, Souya takes it slow and is careful with his thrusts. They’re deep and calculated, watching every twist of your face with careful eyes to make sure he’s hitting the spots that make your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Oh baby, you feel so good.” Souya whispers against your neck, his pace getting faster the tighter you clench around him. Your hands find his hair and you’re slightly pulling at it as you feel yourself approaching your high, your high pitched squeals encouraging the blue haired guy to keep doing what he was doing.

“Fuck you’re gorgeous,” Nahoya comments from his position on the bed next to you, soft hands caressing your cheek as you let Souya absolutely ruin you to the last moment. Your teary eyes meet Souya’s lustful ones, so dark and filled with desire to absolutely ravish you. He wanted to make sure you knew how you made him feel, how this was nothing compared to what he wanted to do to you once you settled down. Eating you out everywhere, fingering you in the car, eating you out while you sucked his brother off—so many plans.

“So close,” you whimper out next to the blue haired male’s ear, and he’s quick to start rubbing on your clit, observing how your jaw goes slack only after a few, gentle rubs. His eyes take in how your thighs shake and your entire body lifts off the mattress as you cum around his cock. He hisses at the feeling of your walls clenching around him, pulling out to paint your thighs with his release. The sight of you with your pussy leaking Nahoya’s cum and your thighs covered in his cum was something. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your stomach and watches as Nahoya’s arms wrap around your waist to pull you towards him to cuddle.

“You did so well,” Souya kisses your arm, before getting off the bed to go grab a towel to clean you up. While cuddled up against Nahoya, you nuzzle your face in his neck and whisper something that has his heart leaping out of his chest.

“I love you both, so very much.”

2023 © all works belong to slttygeto. do not repost my work anywhere else.

[fernandopiastri28]

tags: f2 alpine oscar x mark webber's daughter, all pics from pinterest

warnings: daddy issues, poor father-daughter relationship, jealousy, (this chapter is just like pure fluff though 😚)

Anyone but webber - Oscar Piastri

Rule 5: Allow yourself to be happy, even if it scares you

The next few weeks drifted by in a blur of monotony, which honestly, was a nice break from everything that had been going on in the last months. She barely saw Oscar as he was away racing, which was disappointing especially since she wanted to spend time with him now that they’d finally reached an understanding that they would try to be something.

They did call nearly every day, managing and manouevering around time differences. They were only about 7 hours apart, so it was always midday for one of them, and night or morning for the other. It usually ended up that it was always midday for her, and night for Oscar, who was at the track during the day. 

Even though he was a couple thousand miles away in Russia, it didn’t feel that far each time they called. Sometimes they’d do facetime- sometimes it would just be their voices. Whatever it was, it was always nice to have his voice on the other end of the line, familiar and warm. 

In the days before Mark headed off to Russia, she found herself trying harder with him. She’d learned that showing an interest in Oscar was the key to unlocking even the most guarded parts of Mark, so she’d use it to her advantage. 

It was definitely a bitter pill to swallow- realising that her dad would likely always favor his protégé over her, but accepting it made life easier- tension at home, which had been a constant undercurrent for as long as she could remember, seemed to ease. Conversations with him became bearable, even if they were mostly about Oscar and nearly never about anything to do with her own like.

And, if she were honest with herself, it was nice to hear more about Oscar, even if it was through her dad’s lens. It gave her insight into his life that she didn’t always get from their calls. When they called, it was hardly racing related beyond the initial question of How’d the car feel today? or, How was training?. They’d talk like any other couple their age would- favourite movies, music and artists, things they wanted to do when Oscar got back.

She actually did want to ask Oscar more about his racing, because she couldn’t help but feel like he was sometimes intentionally swerving around the question because he assumed she would hear about it enough at home. 

In reality, she had an interest in racing because of Oscar. It was boring coming from her dad, but when it came from Oscar- all the passion and excitement that his voice carried when he spoke about it, she was fully content for it to be the only thing they ever talked about. 

She could’ve just asked Oscar directly, ask him to talk to her about it because she actually is interested, but there was something about the idea of being seen as clingy that held her back. They’re separate people still, and maybe Oscar avoids racing when speaking to her because it’s his thing separate from her, it’s his thing.

And she didn’t want to intrude on that and make him feel like he has to let her in on every bit of him. He’d probably get silently annoyed with her over time, being too nice to say anything- he’d settle with silently stewing in irritation. The idea of being a clingy and over invasive girlfriend that her boyfriend secretly hates truly haunted her. 

Girlfriend? Boyfriend? It wasn’t something they had officially decided on. They hadn’t discussed labels, hadn’t defined what this was, but it was clear they were exclusive. They were in that liminal space between something casual and something real, and she wasn’t sure how to navigate it.

It’s something they’ll hopefully discuss after the race week is over, because she’s been driving herself a little crazy wondering just how real this is. She knows that the depth and truth of a relationship don’t rely on a label, but it’s something she’s always valued. She doesn’t just want to be with Oscar- she wants to be able to call him her boyfriend, to tell people she’s in a relationship, hear Oscar refer to her as his girlfriend.

When Mark did head off to join Oscar in Russia, the house became just her’s for the next couple of weeks, the emptiness giving her a full sense of freedom. She could’ve hosted so many parties- invite absolutely anyone she wants to and however many people. Yet, she’d rather have been with Oscar in Sochi.

Her dad didn’t give her a reason why she wasn’t coming to this race, he just didn’t come into her room one day and tell her to pack a bag with clothes matching the weather in wherever the F2 race would be hosted. 

The solitude of being completely alone in the house wasn’t too bad though- it gave her time to think, to reflect on everything that had happened.

One evening, as the sun dips low in the sky and paints her room in shades of orange and pink, she lays sprawled out on her bed, staring at the ceiling. The quiet is almost too loud, her breathing being the only thing to break the stillness. 

It’s been too long of being just her in the house. Even though it’s not as if the house is always loud and busy. It’s often just her and her dad, both of whom are naturally rather quiet, yet, there’s always some sort of noise, whether that’s one of them having a friend over or someone being on a call, there’s some sort of background constantly there.

Inviting some friends over is obviously an option, but she doesn’t think she’d be great company right now- too busy moping around and missing Oscar. To try and fill the emptiness, she reaches for her phone, scrolling aimlessly through instagram. 

She follows both alpine and prema for pictures of Oscar, and embarrassingly even occasionally checks a fanpage for him- one that posts every single new piece of content of him. There’s one posted only a few hours ago- a candid shot of him taken at the track, his helmet under his arm, looking off into the distance with that serious expression he often wore before a race. 

He looks adorable, even all stone faced and emotionless. Before she can talk herself out of it, she sends off a quick message. 

Hey, hope everything’s going well in Russia. I miss you 😚

Simple, to the point, and not too clingy, she hopes. Neither of them are strangers to a heart or kiss emoji after their texts, so she doesn’t worry that she going too far with it. 

A response comes in quicker than expected,

Miss you too. Can’t wait to see you when I’m back ❤️.

Even though it’s just a few words on a screen, simply knowing Oscar’s on the other end of the phone and thinking about her is enough to set her mind at ease. She shuts her phone off, content with just knowing he’s on the other side. She can’t spend all her days patiently waiting for him to get back, empty eyes and unmoving. 

Peeling herself off her bed, she heads into her bathroom to take a shower and think about what she should do these next few days to get her mind off Oscar while she gets ready.

Even though it seems like forever, the days do eventually pass and she doesn’t spend them all rotting in her room. She hates that she feels somewhat dependent on Oscar, so this time away from him needs to be something that she becomes comfortable with and used to, a time that she spends focused on herself, instead of forcing herself do go out and live life solely so she isn’t missing him.

Her time is filled with small things- reading, going for walks, meeting up with friends, cooking. But always, in the back of her mind, there’s that anticipation for when Oscar finally returns. She wondered what it would be like when he was back, if things would feel different, if they’d finally have that conversation about what they were to each other.

But for now, she was okay with the uncertainty. For now, she could wait.

She watches the feature race, Oscar starts on pole and wins the race. It’s his third pole and third win for the season, and based on a quick call she has with her Dad, it seems to be the deciding point of the season. It’s obviously not yet confirmed that Oscar will be the F2 champion, but it’s certainly looking like that.

They don’t speak about it on the phone, not a single word about the championship or even just the race weekend. Oscar doesn’t bring it up, so she doesn’t either. They instead talk about seeing eachother when he gets back, which his flight is the next day. They’ll have the house to themselves for two days since Mark is staying in Sochi for another week for meetings and other race related commitments. 

When the day comes, she offers to drive out to the airport to meet him, but Oscar insists that he’ll just take a taxi since he gets back at like 7am, and doesn’t want her to have to be getting up and out of bed before the sun is even up. 

That gives her extra time to spend on getting ready, making herself look her best before she sees him. It’s not like he’s not going to like how she looks if she doesn’t do anything, hopefully, but she still wants to make an effort to look good for him.

Clothes cover her hardwood floor, tossed aside in the search for the ‘perfect’ outfit. Her hairs still a mess, and her lips are cracked and dry, and seriously picking out her outfit is the least of her worries right now when she still hasn’t showered, eaten, brushed her teeth, or made her bed. 

She only gets two of those things done, shower and teeth, before the doorbell rings. Luckily, she’s already got a denim skirt on, so she grabs the closet top and pulls it over her head as she rushes downstairs. She almost trips over her own feet on the scramble down the stairs, but manages to catch herself and be nearly fully composed by the time she’s opening the front door.

And there Oscar is, in all of his perfect glory. He’s got a race winner glow to him, bright eyes, a soft smile, just oozing confidence. He looks good, even more than he usually always does. “Hi,” Her voice barely comes out, more winded and out of breath. 

“Hey,” He steps inside, shutting the door behind him. He pushes his suitcase slightly to the side so there’s nothing inbetween them, just far too much space. They both just look at each other for a moment, the air thick and heavy. It feels as natural as breathing when he finally moves and wraps his arms around her waist and rests his head against hers.

She meets him halfway, arms reaching up to wrap around his neck. “I missed you,” She murmurs into the collar of his cotton shirt. It smells so good, not even of his cologne, but just of Oscar. The faint undertone of hotel body wash, and just him. 

He tilts his head, kissing her cheek. “I missed you too,” He smiles against her, his voice a whisper. “You look so pretty,” He pulls away slightly to look at her, his eyes scanning over her bare face. She feels her cheeks heat up, suddenly very conscious about her lack of makeup and likely presence of redness and dark undereyes.

His thumb slides across her cheek, his lips slightly parted. He looks like he’s about to say it again, tell her how she’s so pretty. “Stop it,” She pushes his hand away slightly, feeling the heat from her cheeks travel down to spread across her neck. 

Oscar chuckles softly, his hand lingering near her face as if he can’t quite bring himself to fully let go. “I’m serious,” he insists, his voice warm and genuine. “You’re so so pretty,” He ducks his head for a kiss, his lips slipping against hers. 

He feels like home, warm and soft and all hers. “You’re just saying that because you haven’t seen me in a while.” She rolls her eyes as he pulls away, resting his forehead against hers.

Oscar huffs, exasperated and sarcastically dramatised. “Nah,” He shakes his head, a teasing glint in his eyes, “You know I’d say that even if I saw you every day,” His arms tighten, squeezing her waist tighter. “I think you’re pretty every single day,”

Her heart does a little flip at that, and she can’t help but smile back at him, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and happiness bubbling inside her. It’s been a while since she’s felt this light, this carefree in someone’s presence. It’s like Oscar carries this effortless ability to make her forget about everything else-  her dad, the complications, the uncertainty of what they are. In moments like these, it’s just them.

“Okay, okay, I accept it,” She giggles, her hands moving to hold onto his shoulders, getting a good look at him. “So, how was Russia?” she says, trying to change the subject, though her voice is still tinged with laughter. She avoids asking directly about the race, but she’s pretty sure just asking about the country is a safe discussion topic.

“Cold.” He grimaces, raising his eyebrows slightly, “Nice though, definitely worth it.” It seems like he might be steering the conversation towards discussing racing, but then he quickly pulls back. I’ve got something for you.” He reaches into the pocket of his sport shorts and pulls out a small, neatly wrapped package. “Open it,” He grins, his cheeks as rosy as hers.

She carefully unwraps the package, revealing a delicate golden necklace with a tiny, intricate pendant shaped like a star. “I remembered you saying you like gold jewelery, so I went to four different shops trying to find this specific necklace.. because everywhere else they only sold it in silver,” He sways slightly, seemingly a bit nervous. 

It’s simple, yet beautiful, and her breath catches in her throat as she looks up at him, wide-eyed. “Oscar,” Her cheeks hurt from how hard she’s smiling. She’s so incredibly fond of him. “It’s beautiful.” She looks back down at it, resting the charm in her palm, “You didn’t have to-”

“I wanted to,” he interrupts gently, his voice coming out in a single breathe. “I saw it and thought of you. It’s just a little something, you know, to remind you that I’m thinking of you even when I’m halfway across the world.” 

She nods, still processing. “Thank you,” she finally says, her voice soft, filled with emotion. “It’s really nice, it’s gorgeous,” She quickly corrects herself. “I love it.”

He smiles, his eyes searching hers as if trying to gauge how she really feels. She watches as the stress and panic drains from his face and is replaced with relief and a smile. “Can I put it on you?”

She nods again, turning around and lifting her hair to expose the back of her neck. He shruggles with it for a few seconds, clearly not having much experience of putting on necklaces. Luckily, his uncut nails help him out, hooking onto the metal.

His fingers brush against her skin as he fastens the clasp, and she shivers slightly at the contact, her pulse quickening. “There,” he murmurs, his voice close to her ear. “Perfect.”

She turns back to face him, her hand reaching up to touch the pendant resting against her collarbone. It feels like a promise, a small piece of him that she can carry with her wherever she goes. His eyes are directly just staring at her chest where the pendant lies, and probably the surrounding skin too. “Thank you, Osc,”

Oscar’s smile softens, and he steps closer, his hands finding her waist again. And then, before she can say anything else, he leans in and kisses her, slow and sweet, like he’s savoring every moment. She melts into the kiss, all her worries and doubts fading away as she loses herself in the warmth of his lips, the feel of his hands on her, the steady beat of his heart against hers. 

When it does finally end, she looks up at him, their noses still nudging against each other’s. Her palms grow sweaty and her skin prickles up in goosebumps from how he looks down at her. She knows he’s about to say something, something that’s about to change everything. She doesn’t want to assume what it is, but she’s got a pretty good idea of what it could be.

And if it is what she thinks it is, the answer is going to be the most definite yes ever.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

y/n.webber

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and 3,105 others

y/n.webber you're caught between a dream and a movie scene 🌺

user1 is this mark webber's daughter?

-> y/n.webber yes lol

-> user2 ohh so thats why logan and oscar both liked this

-> user3 who r oscar and logan?

-> user2 formula 2 drivers! oscar is managed by her dad

user4 ahhh so prettyyy

-> y/n.webber thank you love!!!

bsf/n shut up im so excited for summer

-> y/n.webber AND ZAYN TOUR HOPEFULLYYY

oscarpiastri

liked by frederikvestiofficial, aussiegrit and 28,193 others

oscarpiastri Super happy to get my third pole position in a row, and back-to-back feature race wins. Always a pleasure, cheers Sochi 🤟

user5 CONGRATS OSCAR!!

-> user6 i need him in f1 like rn

-> user7 so true

aussiegrit 👏💯

logansargeant lesss goo mate

user8 deserves that 2nd alpine seat next year

last chapter, next chapter

after such a sad chapter last time, they're finally happy!!! yayayay :)) sorry this chapter took a while, hopefully it was worth it :) also enjoy the inclusion of spider being a zayn fan in the sm part bc i am projecting onto her and literally making her my twin 😋

taglist: @prettiest-at-the-party, @forza-charles, @sltwins, @sweetwh0re, @lucktales, @ellen3101, @nxlx96, @notantou, @cloud-55, @wisestarfishbouquet,

[sc0tters]

In The Water | Luke Hughes

summary: Luke has had a wandering eye for you all week so when he gets you in the pool one night it’s finally his turn to have some fun.

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, p in v, swearing.

word count: 1.69k

authors note: I’ve been waiting to write this for weeks! It was fun writing the Luke x Quinn bsf pairing cause it means all I need to do is a Quinn x Luke bsf pairing then I’ve done all of the brother and friend pairings! Part of me is also starting to think that I’ve forgotten how to write smuts because I really don’t know how I feel about this one…

Luke thought the world was being cruel to him.

Originally he was fine when he heard that Quinn was bringing a girl to the lake house. But the moment he met you that idea quickly changed when he realised it was you.

The youngest Hughes boy didn’t know you from a bar of soap but watching you walk around in shorts and your little bikini top with Quinn’s tigers hat on your head made him feel some kind of way.

His speculations that something was going on between you and Quinn weren’t so wrong either, being neighbours in Vancouver you two learnt how to lean on each other during the pandemic and that sometimes resulted in sexual interactions between you two. But your little fuck buddy time together was a mere moment in your relationship and the last time you had gotten on your knees for the Hughes boy was well over a year ago.

But the level of banter that you two seemed to gain from having gone that far.

Quinn was fast asleep as you slipped out of the bed next to him letting your feet take you downstairs as you realised the light outside was still on.

Curiosity got the best of you and you were glad that it did as you walked out to see Luke in the pool.

His back muscles were defined as he would extend his arms with each stroke before he brought them back to his sides “I can feel you staring at me.” Luke mumble stretching his arms as he let his fingers press on the wall in front of him never taking this eyes off of the water.

You took this as a moment to walk up to him letting your legs down into the water as you sat on the side a couple of feet away from him “got a lot to stare at.” You shrugged sending him a smile as you weren’t going to hide that you were indeed looking at him “would have thought you’d want a closer look.” His smirk was clear as he finally looked up to see your eyes staring at him.

Taking in how his curls were wet as water droplets fell against his skin felt like a sight for sore eyes “where is the fun in just giving it to you Rusty?” You raised your eyebrows mentally letting out a silent cheer as Luke listened to you.

His fingers let go of the wall before he slowly swam over to you settling between your legs as he pushed your knees wider apart “think it’s unfair having you on a higher level than me.” Luke frowned as he let his hands run up your legs “can’t be getting Quinn’s shirt wet.” You shot back irritatingly reminding the younger boy about his thoughts of what Quinn must have done to you.

The hockey player ran his tongue over his lower lip “could just get you out of it.” It was the obvious option but the way it nervously came out of his mouth made you smirk “never thought of that one before.” You brought your hands to the hem of the shirt before you pulled it over your head revealing the skimpy little lingerie set that you decided to wear underneath it.

His swim shorts grew tight around his cock as his eyes trailed over your breasts with nipples barely covered by the black lacy fabric of the bra “fucking hell.” Luke mumbled under his breath taking in the sight as his eyes stared at the left nipple as he realised that you had pierced it.

The shiny titanium bar clearly stuck out as you pushed yourself off of the bricks that lined the pool slotting yourself between Luke and the wall as you smiled “you like what you see Hughesy?” You asked letting your fingers run down his abs as you innocently batted your eyelashes at him.

Luke swore that he was a deadman walking as he watched you look at him like he was the only man in the world “it’s all perfect.” His hands ran over your jaw as he tilted it up letting you look at him “like a fucking goddess.” The boy added bringing his lips down to yours.

You wanted to push onto your toes as his lips against yours and the boy smiled at your desperation “what do you want princess?” Luke smirked as you brought your hands up to hold his.

The hockey player watched as you let your lips form a pout “just fucking kiss me already Luke.” Your complaint was short lived when he captured your lips in a kiss.

It was hot as his tongue ran over your lower lip wanting to slide it into your mouth “please,” you whined feeling his bulge against your core “you sure?” Luke pulled away with big eyes full of concern “I don’t have a condom-” he added as he didn’t even have one upstairs and going into either of his brothers rooms to get one was just asking for a disaster to strike.

You pecked the boys lips wanting him to shut up “I’m on the pill and clean,” your tone was suggestive as he smiled “I am too.” Luke nodded as his heart practically pounded out of his chest “come and get me baby.” You mumbled into his ear before you pushed him away trying to swim away as you wanted to tease him.

Luke took a mere few seconds to reach out and grab your foot as he pulled you towards him “I don’t like chasing.” The hockey player muttered as his hands moved to your bra unhooking the back of it.

He wrapped his hands around your legs as he picked you up “have your way with me Lukey.” You smiled as he dropped his head to your pierced nipple.

His mouth wrapped around the sensitive peak “fuck Lu,” you cried as his tongue swirled around your piercing “you’re so good,” you cooed totally unaware of how each cry that left your lips went straight to his cock.

Your fingers locked into his curls as Luke brought his hand up to your other nipple making sure that it wouldn’t feel left out “I want you cock Luke.” You blurted out making him smile as he pulled away from your breasts “let’s get you out of these then.” Before you both knew it there was a wet mound of clothing that sat next to the pool as Luke ran his fingers over your stomach.

It was almost sweet as he backed you up against the wall “you sure you want this?” Luke asked you as his hands went to either side of you “yes Luke.” You nodded softly kissing his lips as he brought his cock up between your legs teasing your clit “shit!” You groaned as his cock slid down your slit before he trusted into your cunt.

Luke’s hands gripped at your sides as you adjusted to his size “move, please.” You gritted out making him nod “can’t believe how good you feel.” Luke blurted out as your picks moved up to wrap around his waist “been thinking about this all week.” He added making you smile through hooded eyes.

His breath fanned against your skin as you brought your hands up to lock in his hair again “should have made a move sooner.” You gritted your words out as your pussy clenched around his cock.

The hockey player nipped at your neck “can’t have hickies.” You shook your head “like my bikini.” The reminder of the tiny pieces that you wore made Luke smirk “want the boys to know you had a good time.” Trevor had been trying to flirt with you since the moment he arrived so this all was doing absolute wonders for Luke’s ego.

Water was pushed around you both as mini waves formed with each thrust of the boys cock “Luke-” your complaint was cut off as his hand slipped in between you both reaching down to your clit “oh my god!” You slapped your hand over your mouth as his cock began to throb between your legs.

Luke shook his head pulling your hand away “it’s just me baby.” He smiled pecking your lips “boys so asleep they won’t hear you.” The boy added knowing that each of the boys in the house were not going to be coming outside regardless of if they heard your moans or not.

Your legs tightened around his waist “I’m not gonna last.” You confessed letting your hands pinch at your breasts.

It made Luke smirk at how he knew he was making you feel “let it go baby.” The hockey player nodded pecking your lips as he wasn’t far behind “let anyone out here hear how good I make you feel.” He added sucking at your earlobe as you cried out.

It was hot watching you come around his cock as you body shook showing him just how good he made you feel as you brought your hips to grind against his bringing Luke’s orgasm on in the process “don’t stop.” You moaned letting your head fall back as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm.

As you both came back down your breaths were heavy “that was hot.” You blurted out smiling as you pecked his lips when he slid his cock out of you “you think you can survive for another one?” Luke asked as he watched you make your way over to the other side of the pool “it’s getting late.” You sighed motioning to the sun that was starting to rise over the water as you pushed out of the water letting droplets run down your naked body.

Luke smirked as he watched you pull Quinn’s top over you “both need a shower before we go to bed.” The boy loved how the grey fabric clung to your wet breasts “grab those clothes and meet me up there.” You smiled as he sent you a salute pushing off of the wall to the other side of the pool before he followed your wet footprints into the house.