#this is not the first time i have done this

[vanilla-extracter]

some ahnk moporkian bullshit (mostly moist and the truth)

[p1girlfriend]

torque & tenderness – OP81

CW: misogyny, mentions of workplace discrimination, soft comfort + protective behavior / oscar piastri x mechanic!reader requested!

You were used to stares. Greasy hands, ponytail tucked under your cap, grease smudged on your overalls. The only woman on Oscar’s side of the garage — and the youngest. You didn’t need anyone’s validation. Your work spoke for itself.

But some people just didn’t listen.

“I mean, you have a female mechanic now,” one of the older journos said during media pen chaos. “Is that a marketing move, or…?”

Oscar blinked, lowering his mic. “I’m sorry, what?”

The reporter laughed, shrugging. “I’m just saying. Doesn’t it distract you? You know… someone like her, all up close with your car—”

“Someone like her?” Oscar repeated, eyes narrowing. “You mean, the best suspension tech we’ve had this season? The one who literally saved my ass last race with a last-minute fix?”

The area went quiet. Cameras were still rolling.

“She’s not a distraction,” he said calmly, jaw tightening. “She’s the reason I finished Q3 today.”

You were nearby, sorting cables, pretending not to listen. But your ears burned. Your heart pounded.

“Look, if you’re intimidated by smart, skilled women in a garage, that’s your problem,” Oscar continued. “But don’t try to make it mine. Or hers.”

The PR woman motioned to wrap it up, but Oscar wasn’t done. He turned his mic off and walked straight to you.

“You okay?” he asked softly, eyes searching yours.

“I’m fine,” you said automatically.

“No, you’re not,” he murmured. “And I’m really sorry they spoke to you like that. You don’t deserve it.”

You shrugged. “It’s not the first time.”

He clenched his jaw, then exhaled. “But I wish it were the last.”

You smiled, despite everything. “You didn’t have to say anything.”

“I always will,” he said. “Every time.”

The camera crews might’ve been done with him, but as you walked back toward the garage, hand brushing his for a second too long, it didn’t matter.

They could run their mouths.

You’d keep building the machine that shut them up.

©p1girlfriend

[ssahotchnerr]

okay I don’t know how to make this idea I have in my head make sense but here it goes: imagine reader spending time with the team and knowing that Aaron has kind of a stoic image when it comes to the team but then he’s a cinnamon roll at home and the reader tries not to embarrass him with the team and Aaron ends up thinking that the reader is mad or upset because she’s not being as touchy or flirty with him as she normally is but really she’s just trying not to ruin his image??? Did that make sense? I hope that made sense

let loose

it makes perfect sense cw; fem non bau!reader, established relationship, touch starved aaron <3, angst if you squint, fluff and some ending spice ❤️‍🔥 wc; 1k

This was the second time you'd met Aaron's team.

The first was a few weeks ago; you'd brought Aaron a case file he'd forgotten at home. Multiple pairs of eyes latched onto you as you stepped into the bullpen, looking a bit lost until Aaron departed his office to greet you.

When he’d introduced you, only the briefest of pleasantries had been exchanged. Tonight - a small party at David Rossi's - proper acquaintances were finally made.

Your initial shyness was to be expected; getting used to their dynamics, their quirks, fearing you were invading the 'family' they had created.

Aaron's done what he thought would make you more comfortable; staying in close proximity, offering subtle reassurances - a hand on your knee, silent check-ins - and involving you in conversation. He had no doubts the team would make every effort to be welcoming, but he was also well aware that they could come off as intimidating without meaning to be.

But as the night went on, your reservation was directed more at him.

You strayed away from his touch, meeting his eyes with uncertainty, clasping your own hands together instead of intertwining with his. Such detachment was in complete contrast to your typical behavior; normally, you were wrapped around him any chance you got.

Not to mention, you had been all over him back at home. Prolonging your departure by having him pressed against the door, kissing him senseless. You’d almost been late to the time Dave had stated dinner would begin. 

And now, Aaron was left wondering what he could've done wrong in such a short amount of time.

"Are you enjoying yourself, sweetheart?" He asked when a private moment between the two of you finally presented itself, finding you in the kitchen. The others had filtered out to Dave’s patio.

"Yeah, your team is great." You flashed him a quick smile as he neared, busying yourself with the charcuterie board JJ had brought. "You never told me how fun they are."

"They have their moments," his hand found your back, pressing a kiss behind your ear. His actions caused you to tense, only proving his suspicions further. Something was wrong.

"Honey?"

"Hm?" You glanced towards the doorway before looking up at him, your cheeks flushed. You took a small side step away, creating some distance. Anxiety bubbled in his chest.

"Did I do something wrong? You've barely touched me all night. If I upset you somehow, I’m sorry."

"No, no you haven't done anything. I just..." You turned your head away again, timidly and quietly admitting, "didn't know if you wanted me to."

His eyebrows quirked in confusion, you continued.

"This is your team. I know you have an image you want to maintain, and I respect that, so I didn't want to do anything that could potentially embarrass you, with me being as touchy as I am. I panicked, I didn't want to cross a line without knowing."

Oh. His eyes softened in understanding, as yours displayed inner conflict, your heart and head being pulled in different directions.

"Well, I do want you to. Please do."

"Are you sure?"

"Within reason." He offered you a sly smile, not insinuating he wanted hot and heavy actions in front of his colleagues. "But I want you on my arm. Holding my hand. Being your affectionate and loving self. It's what I love about you, and it's meant to be shared."

In fact, it was the one thing he was looking forward to about tonight. He felt more possessive than usual, a state that might have concerned him if not for the pride that came with it. You were his, and he wanted everyone to know how lucky he was.

And selfishly, he wanted the others to know he was worthy of love, (given, he was still trying to believe the same). That there was more to him than Aaron Hotchner, the BAU Unit Chief. He was needed, and not in the professional way he was used to, where his value was measured in results and responsibilities. But rather, being a doting and deeply loving partner.

A smile slowly made its way onto your face, grabbing his hands and lacing your fingers with his before guiding them to your waist, wrapping both his arms around you yourself.

"This may sound pathetic, but within the two hours we've been here, I've missed you."

You laughed gently at his whining, clinging onto his arms. "It's not pathetic at all. If you think you were having a rough time... I had no idea how hard it is to keep my hands off you."

"Good thing there's an easy solution for that. Don't restrain yourself."

"In that case," this time, you didn't glance towards the door, in fear of being caught by one of Aaron's team members. You grabbed his face, your lips meeting his in a kiss.

He immediately reciprocated, a breath of relief escaping him as well; needing this, needing you, the lack of contact throughout the night excruciating. His mouth moved on yours with seamless urgency, as though instinct guided every touch.

The kiss quickly grew heated and messy. Aaron's arms tightened around your waist, backing and picking you up onto the counter, stepping in between your legs. His hands pulled at your hips in desperation of getting you closer. Your breath heavily picked up, assisting him by pressing your chest into his.

Aaron couldn't help but smile against your lips - for a number of reasons. The all-consuming love he had for you, being with you - being close to you - with the team just steps away. Feeling much the same, a giddy giggle escaped you.

"You know..." you mumbled between kisses, your fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt. "You look sexy tonight. Absolutely irresistible."

A breathless chuckle shook through his chest. "We should head out. They'll come looking for us," he teased back, his fingers digging into your hips - a silent cue that he had no intention of actually joining them.

You hummed softly in response, undoing his top button. You stopped there; as it was, you’d only undone the button to get a reaction out of Aaron. It worked, a heavy, trembling breath leaving him. "Let them."

[f1fantasys]

MONACO BABY

Summary - Lando fucks you without a condom for the first time. This could really be read as two fics combined from my poll (Before the race weekend, lando said he’d fuck you without a condom if he wins AND He fucks a baby into you when you celebrate later that night.) Let me know if you'd prefer a whole separate one though, or if i should write a part two basically confirming you got pregnant from all the nasty you did. Let me knowwww

Warnings - heavy smut. blowjob. m! and f! receiving. oral sex. fingering. penetrative sex. cowgirl. unprotected sex. spit play. cum play. use of the words slut and whore.

3.5K+

It was Friday - free practice day, and you noticed that Lando had woken up this morning feeling optimistic about the weekend - a feeling you'd wanted to see him feel since Australia.

A little bit of a back story? You were a Sky content creator, and had been dating Lando for a little over 6 months now, so still pretty new, although it really felt like he was your end game. You knew he was. Your relationship was still private, not yet out in the open though there had been speculation, but you'd both tried to keep it as secret as possible, enjoying your own bubble. Lando's win in Australia was the perfect way to start the season, but it all fell short when the next races up until now were less than fruit full. So to see Lando full of hope today, you were secretly thanking the gods above. He had been harsh on himself up until now. Too harsh.

Call it wanting to rile him up with more adrenaline, whatever it was, this is how you wound up in the position you found yourselves in right now -

Lando had just come out the shower, a towel hanging low on his hips as you sat up in bed and silently watched him do his hair care routine. His dark eyes found yours in the mirror. 'Like something you see?' he asked, sly smirk on his face.

You felt your cheeks heat up immediately, clearing your throat as you rolled your eyes. He turned to face you now, dropping his towel in a swift motion, all his glory out for you to see. His cock sprang free, slapping against his stomach as it bounced a few, throbbing as he took himself in his hands and pumped himself while walking towards you.

'You know all you have to do is ask baby, I'm all yours, yeah?' he said teasingly, grabbing he back of your head, harsh but not harsh enough to hurt you, to make you look up at his face instead of his dick that was now level with your eyes.

'Fuck off' you teased back, unable to hide your smile as you finally brought your hands up to wrap around him. He was pulsing, the thick vein at the side protruding deliciously s you stood up and pushed Lando to sit on the edge of the bed. 'Need to taste you, please' you begged, though you knew he was putty in your hands now.

All Lando could do was groan at the sight in front of him - you, naked, on your knees, tongue darting out to lick the sticky pre-cum off his tip. He jerked forward at that, his hands instinctively coming up to hold your hair out of your face as you finally took him in and sucked.

'Oh fuck me,' he panted, 'that mouth of yours' he mumbled breathlessly as your worked your way on him, bobbing your head up and down repeatedly while his hold on your hair tightened wit each passing second.

You squeezed your thighs together at the mere thought of what you were doing, half not believing you were sucking THE Lando Norris' dick, even though you'd done so about a thousand times by now.

'That's it baby, fuck, you're so good at this' he cooed, taking control of fucking himself in and out of your mouth as your moves started faltering, his hips jerking forward with each thrust, making you gag, tears at the corners of your eyes, and obscene noises filling up the otherwise quiet room.

You tugged and pulled at his balls, sucking as hard as you when you felt him get sloppier by the second, impending orgasm threatening to overcome him any minute now. When you pulled back for air, a string of your spit still had you connected to Lando, and he couldn't help but lean down to you for a dirty, messy kiss, both your tongues battling each others', before he pulled back and was quick to shove his dick back in your mouth.

'Shit I'm so close baby, where do you want it?' he asked, though he knew the answer, you were always ready to taste him, and so when you didn't reply, it wasn't even a few seconds until his whole body was shuddering, hips bucking forward as he spilled his seed down your throat, while you pulled back for air again as he sprayed your face white with his cum, both your chests heaving with the rush.

You sat there breathless, while Lando looked down at you, another sight for sore eyes with just how messed up you were, with his mess on you body, cum dropping down from your face onto your boobs and down your stomach.

He gently let his fingers spread his cum around your face, eventually bringing them to your mouth for you to take in, suckling softly and groaning at the taste of him once more.

He had a look on his face, one you knew all to well, one that only ended with trouble.

'I know that look Lan, what are you thinking?' you pressed, nervous for his answer because you knew whatever he'd say would make you clench your thighs together.

He smiled then, a full blown Lando Norris smile with all his teeth showing, your favourite smile, barely for a second though, because his gaze was quick to turn dark again as he traced his thumb across your bottom lip.

'Thinkin' about how I'm gonna win the race on Sunday..then fuck you with no condom on...need you feel you raw baby' he said, voice hoarse but so casual as it rolled off his tongue with such ease.

You stared up at him, mouth agape as your brain short circuited the second the words left his lips. 'What?' you whispered in shock.

He smiled again - 'You heard me. Need to feel you raw' he said, grabbing a few tissues off the bedside table and wiping your face, helping you up and back onto the bed.

Your mind was spiralling. This is a whole new ball game in your relationship and your body felt alive with butterflies squirming their way in your stomach, anticipation building up and the weekend hadn't even started.

No words left your mouth as Lando pushed you to lie back before straddling you, fiddling with a condom wrapper before rolling it onto his girth which was already hard again, and ramming int you, dirty words of his plan being whispered into your ear.

2 days later, and your man actually fucking won the Monaco Grand Prix.

Let's take it back a few - your relationship had basically been soft launched by the media wen you were caught with Lando's family all weekend. You wished it'd have come out on your own terms, but f1 media played no games, so the multiple views of you on tv had your name, 'Y/N, Lando Norris' Girlfriend' as your tag.

You watched on as Lando climbed out of his car, tens of people pushing their way past you in hopes of getting close to the driver as he hugged his mum and dad, and when his eyes locked with yours, he reached out for your hand, his thumb ever so gently rubbed circles while his god damn beautiful face sent you a wink and a kiss, sending you into a frenzy of tingles. Your heart clenched for a second as the look he'd just given you was reserved only for you, and now the whole world would see it.

Fast forward the podium , the team photo, the prince's ball, and partying at the club - you both stumbled back into his apartment, very tipsy, but not drunk enough because you both wanted to remember the whole evening and celebrations.

You tiptoed through the hallway as quietly as possible, not wanted to wake Adam and Cisca, though Lando was proving that to be impossible with the way his body was glued to yours, lips tracing every inch of your skin as he tickled your neck with stubble, all while leaving a trail of your clothes behind, though it was mostly his - yours was literally just your dress since you hadn't worn any underwear.

As soon as you reached his room, he slammed the door shut, pushed up up against it, and attacked your lips with his own. It was messy, hungry, tongues and teeth clashing as your hands gripped harshly at his hair. He swallowed your moans when his hands roamed down to your glistening cunt, fingers sliding through your folds, pinching at your swollen clit.

'Hmm, Lando, please. I need you.' yu mumbled when his lips moved down to your neck, biting down at your sweet spot as he plunged two fingers through your hole with no warning. You gasped as your back arched off the door, biting down on your bottom lip.

Whatever he was doing felt good, but not good enough, even when he added a third finger and repeatedly hit against your G-spot. You needed more, you needed his dick.

You found your voice again, between he whimpering and panting, grabbing rough at his hair again to make him look up at you.

'You said you-'

'I know what I said.' Lando cut you off. 'But I'm gonna make you cum at least twice before I so much as get near fucking you love' he said, voice raspy, then brining his mouth down to your peaked nipples.

You knew once he had his mind to something there was no going back, so you decided to let him use you how he pleased. His tongue rounded your left nipple, hot against you skin before he b it down harshly, eliciting a gasp from you as his fingered continued their torture on your cunt.

Lando soon added another finger, the stretch sore but welcomed as you felt yourself nearing you high, biting down on his shoulder, and all it took was one pinch of your clit before you were shuddering in his arms, body limb and cum gushing out of you uncontrollably, as he worked you through it, mumbling to himself something about how hot you were when you squirted like this.

He kissed you again, picking you up with his hands under your ass as you kissed him back, slow and deep, the opposite of the desperation there was a few minutes ago.

He placed you on the bed and you were quick to get on your knees, working on ripping his boxers off quickly to see him spring free, aching hard. You wrapped your hand around and started pumping when Lando quickly pushed you off him.

'Someone's eager' he said, sending you a wink before pushing you to lay flat. 'But I need to taste you first' he said, spreading your legs open with his sticky fingers, groaning at the state of you.

You still had cum messing your pussy, he was quick to lean down an lick a hot strip through your folds, tongue lapping at you harshly while you grabbed onto his hair, tugging at it as lewd moans left your mouth.

'Fuck baby, please, god yes, feels so good Lan' you managed to say between breaths, a heat already building up in your stomach as he started thrusting his tongue in and out of your hole. 'Gonna cum' you warned, not caring how quick were took to reach the high, goosebumps raising on your entire body as he ate you out like a starved man.

Lando nipped at your clit then, the sensation coursing through our body, sending your orgasm down with a thrill as you shook uncontrollably underneath him, his tongue not slowing one bit as he groaned at the sweet taste of you.

You looked down to see his mouth and chin dripping with spit and cum as he smiled sheepishly, leaning up to kiss you for the millionth time today.

'Please. I need you' you finally begged between nips and licks at his lips, not knowing how much longer you could wait without exploding with desperation for his cock.

Finally, he sat up on his knees, eyes shamelessly checking out your body.

'No condom yeah? he asked slowly, gaging your reaction as he spat down onto himself and pumped a few times.

You nodded your head, sure no words would leave your mouth.

'Gonna let me cum inside you?' he asked, testing the waters once more.

You nodded again.

'Words, baby. Need to hear you say it?' he pressed, his thumb softly rubbing circles on your inner thigh.

'Please, fuck me. God I need you an your cum Lando' you said breathlessly, anticipation really budling up.

That was all Lando needed to hear. He hovered over you again, balancing on his elbow as one hand cupped your face, while the other slid his dick through the folds a few times, gathering your slick, until he lined his dick up at your entrance.

His eyes were glued to yours as he slid inside of you when one, quick thrust, bottoming out immediately.

You both gasped at the same time, your back arching off the bed as your breaths mingled, foreheads against one another.

He felt so much bigger without the condom, the lack of barrier letting you feel his heat in such a tantalizing way as he stretched you out dumb.

Lando's breath faltered when he felt how tightly your walls clenched around him, cunt throbbing around his girth with a warmth he'd never expected to have felt. 'Y/N,' he paned, cold breath on your skin. 'So fuckin' tight.'

'Need a second' you said as he nodded in agreement, your body always needing a minute to adjust to his size, so he kissed you filthy again, tongue lapping against tongue until you started squirming underneath him, craving more friction.

'Gonna let me fuck you?' he asked, slowly sliding out and then ramming back into you with force again.

You let out another gasp followed by a pornographic moan when he repeated that action, his hands quickly coming up to cover your mouth.

'Have to be quiet unless you want everyone to hear me fuck you' he said, voice raspy, burying his head in the crook of your neck as you wrapped your legs around his waist as tightly as you could. At this point you didn't care if anyone heard you - all you could concentrate on was the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you.

You dragged your nails up and down his back, scratching at his skin, a sheet of sweat starting to cover both your bodies.

This new, raw connection between you both was a series of different motions. Lando's pace was quick, relentless, then all of a sudden he'd slow down to deep, sensual thrusts, before picking up pace again.

He was whispering dirty nothings into your ear as you continued moaning and gasping his name as his every word and movement.

'Fuck, hearing you say my name like that, drives me fucking insane'

'Could stay buried inside of you raw like this forever'

'Look at you, you love when I fuck you like this yeah?'

'Tight little cunt is all mine, my slut yeah??'

'Or better - such a whore after your boyfriend wins a race'

It was no surprise that your orgasm ripped through your body with no warning, crashing through you as your mind blanked out and you saw stars, dirty grunts filling up the room together with skin against skin slaps as Lando didn't slow his movements one bit.

Lando for one, knew he was a goner the second he felt your juices spewl all of his cock, and when he looked down to see the mess, he let out his own series of filthy moans.

'Baby fuck, look at the fucking mess you've made. Can cum just from looking at it' he groaned as you wrapped your legs tighter around him.

'Lan too much, I can't' you cooed, the stretch really starting in sting now.

He slowed his movements, but didn't stop, voice edgy as he spoke. 'You really want me to stop before you've let me cum in you? Huh? Before I've fucked a baby into you?'

Your chest heaved, choking on your spit as you took in his words, and suddenly your whole body was pumped with adrenaline. You didn't answer him verbally - no. Instead you mustered all the energy you could to push Lando off you to lay back, so you could straddle his hips, taking him dripping dick in your hands and lining him up with your cunt as you sank down on him in one hard thrust.

'Look at you, all eager for my cum' he teased, hands finding your hips and helping you set a vast, sloppy pace, while his eyes stuck to your bruised boobs, bouncing up and down as you rode him.

'Feel's so fucking good Lan' you whimpered, feeling his cock hit your G-spot over and over again, one hand on your own stomach as you felt his bulge everyone he thrust up into you.

With no warning, you came again, quivering above Lando as his movements were becoming sloppier, your moans getting so loud that he hand to bring a hand to cover your mouth again, before he pulled out and pushed you back again.

He stood at the end of the bed, pulling your body to the edge and spreading your legs further apart, before leaning down to spit directly on your cunt, and finally rammed into you, with intent this time, clearly chasing his own high, with his dirty words returning.

'Feel that baby? That's my cock, getting ready to cum inside you'

'Ready to fill you up yeah?'

'Not gonna stop until your dripping with me'

'Gonna lick my cum that's gonna drip out of your cunt'

Once again, his words threw you off. You could swear you've never cum so hard before, your body going like jelly, all you could hear was Lando's muffled voice, until a feeling unlike any other hit you at once.

His body was jerking forward into yours, cock twitching uncontrollably between your walls as he trembled above you, cum shooting out his tip and through your body, filling you up complete while pornographic grunts and moans left his mouth, swear words flying out like there was no tomorrow as he released all that he was holding in.

Lando's mind went blank as his muscles tensed, hands gripping your hips tighter while his own hips bucked forward, the raw moment causing him to make eye contact with you as he was sent over the edge, filling you up so perfectly while the things leaving his mouth were anything but.

Finally, he let his weight fall on top of you, both of you so out of breaths, bodies shivering at the cool air hitting your sweat-clad bodies, his face buried in your neck while your arms wrapped around him and pulled him close.

'Fuck' he panted, as his hips involuntarily spasmed forward again, cock with twitching against your walls as you slowly but surely felt him softening inside you.

'Lan...' you breathed, turning your head a bit to make him look up at you.

You both took in each others states - both fucked out, foreheads glistening with sweat and cheeks a deep red colour, breaths hot against one another.

'I know baby' he said, lips against yours, softest of kisses while your hands ran through his damp hair.

'You okay? Sorry if that was too much..' he said softly, bringing a hand up to your own face, thumb tracing your lips.

You couldn't help but chuckle at the stark contrast of what was happening a few minutes ago compared to now.

'I'm more than fucking okay. God, can we do this all the time? You really know how to fuck a girl' you said, almost whispering the last part.

He smiled. 'Just have a whore as my partner' he whispered back, before shutting his eyes when you gasped and smacked his shoulder playfully.

'I'm joking, I'm joking. I have the most amazing woman, who takes me so fucking well, is all' he said, leaning down to kiss you, hard.

Eventually after a dew minutes of slow, deep kissing, Lando pulled out, the both of you groaning at the loss of contact when he slipped his dick out.

He helped your wobbly body onto your feet, and you didn't miss how his eyes were glued to your pussy. You looked down at yourself, breath hitching when you saw how a mix of your fluids when slowing sleeking its way out your cunt and down your thighs, and in turn this made you look at Lando's dick, glistening.

'I-fuck.' you started but Lando was quick to cut you off with an 'Uh huh' while he lowered himself to the ground.

He let his fingers spread the cum on your thighs around, before every so gently leaning forward and licking a strip up your folds, making you hiss at his hot tongue on your most sensitive parts, scooping up as much of the sticky juice as he could, before he was standing tall again leaning down let it drip from his mouth into yours before he was kissing you sloppy again, making a mess of your face.

You moaned into his mouth - mind going at a thousand miles an hour - normally b y now you'd want to clean, freshly showered or at least wiped down, especially with just how nasty the pair of you had been tonight - but at the same time - the smell of sex in the room, the sensation of Lando literally dripping out of you - you wanted to stay like this for as long as possible.

Lando must have felt the same because he didn't guide you to the bathroom, instead brining you to lie down next to him, cuddling you as close as possible as he turned the bedside lamp off. And his last words of the night already had your core tingling in want for him.

'Rest up baby, gonna take you raw in the morning again.' he whispered, before leaving a kiss on your cheek and pulling you closer when he heard your gasp and felt a shiver run up your body.

[heartmix]

Private Screening - MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.4k+

Warning: Max being oblivious, mention of sad reader

Summary: You really wanted to go to the private screening of the F1 movie, but Max doesn't want to

A/N: messy and all over the place

F1 Masterlist / Masterlist

To say you loved movies was an understatement. At any free moment, there was bound to be a movie on. Which is why when they announced they were making a movie about F1 with the same director as Top Gun: Maverick, you were beyond excited. 

The chance to watch them film during the season and also meet the actors made you giddy. Your excitement was more than all the drivers combined, which was hardly any, considering they honestly couldn't have cared less about it. 

Max was one of those who wanted to stay away from the movie. If he had the chance to decline partaking in it, he would have dropped it in a heartbeat. Unfortunately for him, his job forced him, and even more so, you would not stop talking about it every time a promo dropped. 

"Do you think you guys will be invited to the premiere or a private screening?" You asked Max one day while watching yet another trailer drop. 

"If we do, I probably won't go," Max said, not even batting an eye. It was off-handed and you knew you shouldn't have made it a big deal, but deep inside, you were a little hurt. 

The next week, it seemed like everyone was talking about the private screening of the movie for everyone who worked in F1, even down to the engineers. Knowing Max would decline meant you wouldn't be able to go; you were sulking whenever the topic was brought up. 

"What's with the sad face?" Charles asked, seeing your face drop as he and Alexandra were talking about what they were wearing to the premiere next week. 

"You're coming right?" Alex inquired, seemingly knowing what was going on, but she wanted you to be the one to say it. 

"I wish. Max doesn't want to go, and Red Bull is giving him an out." The fact that your eyes didn't meet theirs, instead focusing on the drink in front of you, was a sign that it bothered you a lot. 

"Does he know how excited you are for it? I swear it's all you've been talking about last season." 

"He knows, but I don't think he declined the invite to hurt me. He saw an opportunity to get out of going and took it. I know I shouldn't be sad about it, but I'll get over it." 

"Come with us," Charles mentioned. 

"What?" Your eyes snapped up to his in disbelief, thinking he was playing around. Instead, you found a genuine smile. 

"Oh yes! You can hang out with me! It'll be so fun!" Alex exclaimed with a big smile plastered on her face. 

"Are you guys sure? I don't want to overstep." 

"Trust me. It'll be fine." Charles waved off your concern, not showing a hint of worry. 

Leading up to the premiere, you were super happy. No more the gloomy state you were in. Max noticed it, of course, he noticed mostly everything about you. He was curious about the sudden mood change, but didn't chalk it up to anything. Maybe it was just one of those weeks. If it were anything important, he would be the first one you told. 

He didn't ask about it until the night before the premiere. He was lounging on the bed with the cats while you were in the walk-in closet trying to find something to wear. Not like you were going to be photographed, but there might be a picture or two that would be circulated. This was a big deal to you, and you wanted to look as good as you were going to feel. 

"Schatje, are you almost done? I want to relax and I can't do that without you right here in my arms." He yelled out, borderline whining that you weren't in bed with him. 

"Yeah, just give me a few minutes." 

"The race isn't for a few more days, you don't need to look for an outfit right now. Plus, in case you didn't know, it's in the city we live in. No need to rush." He tried again, but to no avail, you didn't come to bed. 

"Not for the race bubs. It's for tomorrow." 

"Going out with the girls?" He wondered, thinking he had forgotten that you mentioned it to him. 

"Yeah, you can say that. Alex and Charles invited me to the F1 movie screening." Hearing that, he got off the bed and made his way to the closest, confused. Did he hear you right? 

"The what?" 

"Remember the private screening for the drivers and crew. Well, since you weren't going, Charles invited me." You shrugged, not making a big deal. It wasn't a big deal anymore, now that you were going. 

"Why didn't you tell me you wanted to go?" 

"Because you said you weren't going to go before I even had the chance. Even so, you know I've been excited for it, of course, I would want to go." You sighed, looking at him standing in the doorway. It was foolish to think he wouldn't find out, but you didn't know he would make something out of it. 

"I'm sorry, you get excited for practically every movie. I wasn't thinking." He frowned, pulling you into his arms. You knew he felt bad, but there was nothing to hold against him. 

"Don't stress it. I know you don't like media stuff, and you aren't that interested in the movie." 

"Let me take you tomorrow." At this, you chuckled at his sudden urge to wanting to go. He was doing this because he felt bad. You didn't want to force him to go if he really didn't want to, and you know he didn't. 

"Don't be silly. How often do they let you decline something work-related? Plus, I'm going with Charles and Alex." 

"I know you're excited for it, and that's all I need. I'm taking you." The comment came out more as a statement. It was final. He was going to take you no matter how hard you tried to convince him. 

"It's the night before, what are you going to tell the team?" 

"Im Max Verstappen, 4 time world champion. What are they going to do? Decline me?" He had that famous Max Verstappen smugness in his tone. One that would eat everyone up. 

"And your fans say you're humble." You rolled your eyes, and he couldn't help but chuckle. 

Like it was planned all along, you and Max were making your way up the steps of the theater. Cameras flashed from all around you, but you didn't care about any of that. The only thing you cared about was watching the movie. 

"Max! Looks like you made it!" You looked up to the Red Bull social media, Jessica already with a phone fired up in her hand. 

"I did." He said with a slight smile, his way of telling her it was okay to film. 

"Are you excited to see the movie?" She said, holding up the camera to get it all on record.

"My girls' excited about it, so that means I am too." At this comment, you could feel the heat rise to your face, and you tried to look anywhere but the camera. You felt Max's eyes peering down at you, and from he corner of your eyes, you saw Jessica smirking while filming you. Whether it was the bluntness of Max or the numbers it will do on social media, she loved the comment either way. 

"We are glad to have you both." She smiled before ending the video and putting her phone down, thanking you both for the content. 

"Well, well, well, look who decided to show up." Charles' voice came in right from behind you guys with Alex on his arm. 

"Did she tell you about the situation?" Max groaned, not liking Charles' smug look. 

"I knew, I just got the confession out of her." Alex shrugged like it was nothing. 

"Well, all that matters is I'm going to have the chance to see the movie a whole month early. Speaking of you guys should hurry up and do press so we can get to the actual movie." You pushed the two drivers away in the direction of where the rest of them were. 

"You practically begged me to come, now you're getting rid of me?" Max couldn't help but tease. 

With a raised eyebrow, you looked at him in disbelief, "If I remember correctly, you begged me to let you take me." 

"Same thing." 

"Will you just go? I'll meet you inside." Rolling your eyes yet again, this pulled a laugh out of him.  

"Save me a seat?" 

"Least I could do." You smiled before he pulled you in for a kiss. 

[rin-may-1103]

Turn Back the Frozen Sands of Time

(I couldn't come up with a better title, lol, so we're stuck with this.)

unadulteratedsoulsweets's Prompt | Master Post | Next(to be written)

Danny didn't startle awake; he didn't gasp for unnecessary breath; he didn't cry out in pain.

No, Danny woke to the sound of nothing; the sound of wind calmly crawling through stone halls, of dust drifting through the silent air, of birds singing songs off in the distance.

This was a silence he hadn't heard in years. And for all the pain that the silence brought, he couldn't help but hold his breath, the little spark of hope settling in his heart, no, his core.

He's had years to hate, yell, and ignore his childhood. Years to accept what had been done to him. Years to forgive.

Years to grieve what had been and what could have been.

Years to wish for a chance to go back.

Years to accept he'd never would, and move on.

Opening his eyes, Danny looked at his childhood room in confused wonder. It was just as he remembered: nothing had moved from where he had left it. Loose papers scattered across an intricate desk, weapons displayed proudly on the stone walls, bright colorful paint, and tiles embedded into the stone with tedious hard work. His little jar of rocks and twigs he kept on his shelf. The horde of sweets was tucked behind books, like he had just recently added to his stash.

If he hadn't known any better, he could almost convince himself it had all been a dream. Like he hadn't walked out of this room eight years ago, walked to his first death, and right into The Fentons' arms. Like he could walk out that door and greet his brother like he had so many times before.

But he knew better; he's lived through dreams and false realities. He knows what twisted wishes and curses act like, feel like.

this wasn't a dream, this wasn't a damn wish, this was real. It was all horrifically, unbearably, dreadfully real.

And that scared him.

because he remembered being in the Ghost Zone, remembered hopping from rocky island to island in a game of tag with Dani. Remembered pranking the observants for being stuffy old geezers. Remembered hugging Clockwork and darting around the halls just to annoy the ghost. Remembered finally mastering animated Ice sculptures and sending an ice raccoon to fly to the far frozen just so Frostbite would know what he had accomplished.

But he didn't remember how he got here.

How he had gotten out of the zone, across the planet, and into a room deep inside a fortified fortress built by a cult his grandfather had led for several centuries.

One moment he had been testing just how far Fright Knight would go to follow him, and the next he's WAKING up here.

Moving to sit up, Danny froze.

His clothes were different.

He wasn't wearing his typical old tee and ripped blue jeans, nor was he wearing Tucker's hoodie and Sam's lacy skirt she'd finally convinced him to wear.

No, he was wearing a very familiar outfit. One that should be too small for him to fit in after all these years, one that had been mostly destroyed and discarded.

Sitting up, Danny stared in horror at his body. He was in his favorite deep blue and black Kurta, but that wasn't all.

No, no.

He was small.

Well, smaller. (Who knew dying multiple times would stunt his growth?) Like, as in he was eight or nine years old, small, as small as he had been when he had died, small.

If this was real (and it was, he knew it deep down in his core), then he couldn't waste any time panicking. Even after eight years, his daily routine was ingrained into his mind; wake up thirty minutes early, sneak out into the garden to watch the sunrise, sneak back in, get caught by his brother, go to breakfast, lessons, lunch, training, dinner, training, leave to go to bed but sneak out to star gaze, sneak back in and sleep.

The sun wasn't up yet, but it was close, which meant he needed to hurry if he didn't want anyone to get suspicious. Naturally, everyone knew he snuck out in the morning(he had made it wear they'd underestimate him, to make it easier to sneak out at night), so if he wasn't seen by his mother's spies and then caught by his brother, they'd know something was up. They probably wouldn't guess (what? Time travel? That's the only thing that's making sense, but then why is he small?) to be the problem, but they would know something was up and therefore, make it impossible for Danny to investigate it by himself.

Getting up, Danny grabbed a new pair of socks, snatched his special league tabi boots, and the blue strips of fabric he used almost every day. Pulling his socks on, then his boots, he carefully folded the extra fabric of his churidar and wrapped the blue strips tightly around. just like he had been taught.

Standing up, he snagged a few small knives (he always left his katana, he was supposed to be sneaking out to sight see, not fight) and stashed them on his body. It amazes him how easily he slipped back into his old habits; how easily he concealed his weapons, how he automatically silenced his footsteps as he left his room, how he pretended not to notice his mother's spies watching him.

He was acting on muscle memory from eight years ago, yet he didn't even falter as he turned down winding halls and up steep stairs.

Maybe he wasn't using eight years of dusty muscle memory.

Maybe he was using nine years of ingrained habit.

Maybe he was in his actual nine-year-old body.

It would explain how his memory of the day before was almost crystal clear now, how he remembered that there wasn't anything special planned for today, how his brother had been teasing him about his horrible stance in training. Crystal clear, just like his memory of playing with Dani, not even twelve hours ago.

It was like the present him was merged with the past him's body and mind. (Would that make his memories square? memory^2? Like they're both his memories, just one's fresher than the other, but now they feel... More? Tucker would know. It doesn't hurt, but man, was this weird.)

Finally making his way into the garden, Danny turned and scaled the stone walls, his fingers turning slightly red due to the frosty cold air and rocks.

Once at his usual spot, Danny turned and sat down, watching as the sky grew brighter and brighter. Hopefully the spies don't question his delay, maybe they'll chalk it up to him needing a little more sleep. he had pushed himself in training the day before.

Ok, focus on his situation.

What are the facts?

He had been in the ghost zone, nothing was out of the ordinary, and then he was suddenly waking up in his nine-year-old body, his childhood memories revived like he had just lived them(because he technically had, apparently), and he couldn't let anyone know something was wrong. (partly to keep the timeline intact, and partly because assassins get very... pointed when things aren't like how they're supposed to be.)

From his memories, he knows there is nothing extra planned for today. It's a typical boring day in the league. The most exciting thing that could happen is his mother stopping by to teach him instead of his normal mentors. But she did that three days ago, so chances are close to zilch.

Oh, and if his older memories are to be trusted, he is three or four days away from his first death.

Ok, Danny. Take a deep breath.

You've been sent back in time, somehow.

The most obvious cause: Clockwork.

But if he was the one responsible, then there should be a note, and you'd remember why and exactly how you got sent back. Clockwork time travel doesn't typically involve de-aging, and there wasn't a note.

So not Clockwork.

But if not Clockwork, then who and why?

He'd say another ghost broke in and maybe stole one of Clockwork's time manipulation stuff and used it on him, but that wouldn't make sense for multiple reasons. First, most ghosts who have enough audacity to pull a stunt like this, either refrain from doing so because Danny's the king or because they'd rather use their own stuff to screw with him.

Secondly, Clockwork wouldn't just let anyone steal from him, let alone use the stolen stuff against Danny.

So, not a ghost(or other realms being), or at least not one Danny knows of. But the likely hood of a random ass ghost/being doing this was still bogus because of reason number two.

So, that left living beings.

Who among the living would be powerful enough to affect-

"Danyal,"

Danny tensed; he knew that voice. He hated that voice. He's missed that voice. Glancing down with a frown, Danny stared at his brother.

no matter what he wanted to do (stangle him, hug him, cry, laugh, yell), he had to act normal, and normal nine-year-old Danyal al Ghul would be annoyed and confused that his morning sunrise was being interrupted, yet nervous because he'd been 'caught'. Normal nine-year-old Danyal al Ghul was 'weak' and 'innocent'. Or, well, compared to his brother, that is. (he knows now that nine-year-old him was nowhere near normal compared to everyone else.)

Damian was staring up at him, his body tense and eyes sharp with something Danny couldn't place. He looked upset, if Danny was being honest. But why would he be upset?

wait.

A memory from yesterday popped up; Damian had stolen his favorite knife, teasing him for failing to hit the target dead on like he could. Danny had stolen his shuko hand claws in retaliation.

"I swear I didn't do it," Danny blurted, glancing around to see his escape routes. He had two, the other side of the roof, or risk trying to get past Damian and back inside.

Damian blinked, looking thrown off for a second, his brows furrowed, "Do what?"

Danny glanced back, forcing his body to nervously shift, "Take your shuko claws." (Present him would have never given himself away like this, but past Danny had no brain-to-mouth filter and enough anxiety to fuel a rocket ship, which usually led to him being a horrible liar.)

Damian was silent for a moment, closing his eyes as if he were pained. "That's not," he started, before stopping and taking a deep breath to center himself.

This was weird. Danny didn't remember an interaction like this happening. what was going on? had something changed? had he screwed up the timeline by not getting outside fast enough?

"I'm not mad at you," Damian continued, finally opening his eyes and staring up at him with a blank face.

"You're not?" Danny asked, moving to make it look like he was ready to bolt at any moment. (It wasn't hard to act like it when he truly did feel like he should run.)

"No, I wanted to know if," Damian paused, pursing his lips just slightly. It was his thinking face, the face he only got when he really was panicking about what to do next. Why was he panicking?

"If?" Danny pushed, slowly leaning forward and weighing the pros and cons of jumping down and being face to face with him.

"If you," Damian started slowly, "would allow me to join you."

Danny blinked, then blinked again. (Damian was acting weird, what the hell? Wait? Has he been misinterpreting his brother this whole time? Was he always catching Danny as he snuck back in because he wanted to join him? wait, no, focus, Danny!)

"Sure!" Danny smiled, patting the roof next to him. Nine-year-old Danyal would be ecstatic if his brother wanted to join him. So ecstatic in fact, he might even start ranting about everything he knew about the sun. (Present Danny was also about to start ranting, just more out of nervousness than excitement.)

Shaking his hands to get rid of the excess energy (excited energy because, even if Danny never forgave his brother for what happened, he still loved him, and spending even just a moment with him was like a dream come true), Danny beamed as his brother hauled himself up onto the roof and sat down.

"Did you know the sun has layers?" Danny blurted, turning to glance up at the mountains around them. Technically, the sun was up, but it still hadn't broken over the mountain ridge. Ancients, he never realized how much he missed the peaceful mornings here in Nanda Parbat.

"Really?" Damian asked softly, turning to watch the sun rise as well. A new bird song broke out, their chirps and whistles echoing off the rocky walls and building a symphony for just the two of them to enjoy.

Danny wasn't sure what he had done to change things, but maybe, just maybe, he could be selfish and not worry for just a moment. He wanted to enjoy the precious little time he had with his twin, even if the knowledge of what would happen in three days hung over his head.

Damian turned to look at him again, his green eyes focused intently on Danny's face, and with a smile that Danny's very rarely seen, asked, "Can you tell me about them?"

Next(to be written)

[my-castles-crumbling]

polish - may 30 - black brothers - jegulus - @black-brothers-microfic - word count: 200

“Okay, what about this?” Sirius asked with a frown, clearly concentrating hard on his task. “Welcome to the wedding of my brother, James, and my brother, Regulus. While I know it sounds like they’re taking part in the incestual traditions my family have passed down for generations, let me toast to the fact that they’re actually not related. Great job breaking the cycle, Reg!”

Regulus, who was sitting on the couch next to James, scowled while his fiance began to laugh. He began to speak, but Sirius cut him off.

“Wait, I’m not done! It gets sentimental, I promise.” He mimed holding a glass and straightening an imaginary tie, then continued. “The first time I talked to Reggie about James, he was a tiny ten-year-old who didn’t even know he was a boy, let alone that he liked boys. We just talked about how James and I spent one absolutely horrible detention polishing every knob in the trophy room. Little did we know, ten years later, Regulus would be polishing James’s kno–”

“Absolutely not. No Best Man speech,” Regulus spat, standing and walking away while James broke into fits of laughter.

[helioooss]

your song, part two

synopsis: after years apart, y/n, now a successful chef running her own restaurant in makati, finds her life briefly interrupted when sophia laforteza, her childhood best friend turned global pop star, returns home.

w/c: 10k+

warnings: swearing, slowburn, angst

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the office couch had never really been meant for sleeping, but the fold-out had done its job. two pillows borrowed from the bar’s storage room, a spare throw blanket pulled from a dusty crate. you turned off the lights around sometime around 11pm but neither of you stopped talking.

the hum of the bar fridge filled the space between stories — sophia’s recounts of rehearsals, early katseye tensions, the first time she cried after a concert when someone in the crowd held up a sign with her name on it.

the two of you had stayed up past midnight. you weren’t sure anymore. the air grew heavy with sleep, but neither of you wanted to go.

you listened, half on your side, chin propped against your arm. you didn’t interrupt much. it was easy to just watch her: eyes lit up in the half-darkness, hair falling over her cheek as she talked and talked, until her words slowed, slurred.

then, just like that, she had fallen asleep next to you, passed out halfway through a sentence about lara who kept eating takis for breakfast. on her side, facing you, her breath soft and uneven like she hadn’t let herself rest in a long time.

you hadn’t really slept. drifted in and out, conscious of her shoulder close to yours, of the faint scent of citrus shampoo and something distinctly hers; familiar in a way that tugged at your stomach. you woke properly around five.

the sun wasn’t up yet, but the street was breathing again, slow and mechanical; the sounds of early vendors pushing carts and mopeds slicing through quiet roads.

you sat up slowly, rubbed your face and padded out into the bar. the tiles were cold against your feet. it grounded you. you brewed the coffee first. hers, not yours. you remembered the way she used to complain when it wasn’t sweet enough, that dramatic gagging sound she would make before calling you a psychopath.

two and a half teaspoons brown sugar, one teaspoon coffee. you made it without thinking - muscle memory.

in the kitchen, you got to work. rice hit the pan with oil, garlic dancing in the heat. you cracked eggs and fried longganisa until the edges crisped and curled. added the chorizo de cebu she always claimed tasted different in manila. you plated it the way she liked: egg yolk whole and shiny, meat slightly charred, a slice of tomato and cucumber on the side like it meant something.

you barely heard her footsteps until she was leaning against the doorframe, hair messy, shirt hanging loose around her collarbones.

“that smells so good,” she croaked out, voice low and rough from sleep.

you turned. “coffee’s on the bar.”

“you’re a dream,” she added, padding over barefoot.

you caught her out of the corner of your eye — how she curled her hands around the mug, how her eyes fluttered shut after the first sip.

and then, like it wasn’t anything at all, she said: “i love you.”

your body locked up inside; heart caught mid-beat, hands suddenly unsure where to rest.

she said it like people say ‘thank you’ or ‘god, this is good coffee’ — easy, half-asleep, automatic. not weighted.

but your brain didn’t care about tone. or context. your brain heard i love you in her voice and it lit up like a fucking traffic accident. she didn’t mean it, she couldn’t have.

still, your stomach twisted with the ghost of what it would’ve felt like if she had. you didn’t say anything. just plated the food and set it down, sliding it across the counter toward her.

she smiled, eyes half-closed, murmured “you spoil me” and dug in. you sat across from her, picked at your own plate, letting the quiet settle again.

no one came in early on sundays. the place was still.

“when are you leaving?” you asked, the words quiet but clear.

she chewed, then shrugged. “i don’t know yet,” she replied, stuffing her face with rice. “i think i want to stay longer…i know i can.”

you looked at her. she didn’t meet your gaze, just sipped her coffee and stared at the far wall like she was still working it out.

“what about you?” she asked.

“don’t work sundays, usually. might visit my family in quezon. bring my lola some empanadas.”

she grinned. “she’ll pretend not to like them.”

“always.”

she toyed with her fork. “i’m filming a brand thing later,” she began to say, then looked up, suddenly hesitant. “but…would you wanna come? or, i don’t know, wait for me so we can go together to quezon?”

you blinked. “come to your shoot?”

“if that’s okay, i can pick you up?”

you nodded. “yeah, of course…pick me up from here.”

her shoulders relaxed. you didn’t know she had been holding tension there.

after breakfast, she helped stack dishes into the tub. she noticed the fresh burn on your forearm; angry and red, skin bubbled from a splash of oil the night before. you tried to cover it but she caught your wrist, gently.

“where’s your first aid kit?”

“it’s gross —”

“it’s not,” she argued. “always looked after your clumsy ass, trust me, i’ve seen worse injuries from you.”

“fine,” you sighed in defeat, pointing towards the white cabinet by the sink. “right over there.”

you watched her disinfect it, cut the gauze, taped it down like she had done it before. her brows drawn, tongue poking out slightly as she focused.

she was always like that — meticulous with care, even when you didn’t deserve it.

you looked down at her hands on yours and felt something press low and quiet in your chest. she was just wrapping the tape when her phone rang.

you pulled your hand back gently. she looked at the screen and sighed. “it’s mum.”

you nodded, stepping back. “take it.”

leaning back, you remained seated on the barstool as she slipped off hers and walked a few steps away, phone pressed to her ear. her voice changed immediately: softer, brighter, familiar in a way that tugged something loose inside your chest. you remembered her talking like that to tita carla on your lola’s rooftop when you were kids, pacing in bare feet, laughing about her day, whole face lighting up like she didn’t know how to dim it.

hearing that tone now…after all this time, felt like being dropped into a version of yourself that hadn’t been folded down yet.

you lowered your gaze to the bandage on your arm. it was neat. clean. it still stung, but much less now and her touch still lingered in your skin.

then, without warning, sophia was holding out the phone as you looked up; her eyes warm, mouth curved in a small smile.

“mum wants to say hi.”

you blinked. “me?”

“yes. smile.”

you took the phone. “hello, tita?”

“anak! y/n!” the joy in her voice was immediate, like nothing had changed. “thank you, ha? for looking after our baby girl last night. she never listens to me. i’ve been telling her to just drop by so you don’t run away.”

ah.

you laughed softly. “it’s nothing, tita. she’s easy to feed.”

“she told me she slept at your restaurant! you poor things, that couch must be awful. but at least you had good food. y/n, i still remember your sinigang — hay nako, my mouth is watering just thinking about it.”

you laughed, could already picture her, barefoot in the kitchen, a towel thrown over one shoulder, probably waving her hand as she spoke.

“you have to come visit,” she continued. “i want to see your mum. bring her! and your lola, if she’s not feeling too suplada. we’ll cook.”

you said yes to everything, laughed when she insisted you come over this week and promised to text her.

when you handed the phone back, sophia groaned and rolled her eyes. “she said the driver’s already outside.”

you tried to smile, but it faltered. there was something unspoken on her face, stretched thin beneath her usual calm. she didn’t want to leave. that much was obvious.

the same way you didn’t want to be the one she had to leave from. you both stood in silence for a few seconds, neither making the first move.

then she reached for her jacket and followed you through the kitchen. the staff room was still dim, quiet in that particular sunday morning way like the place knew the chaos had already passed.

the hallway to the back door felt longer than usual as you held it open for her.

the sun was out now, high enough to warm the concrete. the maroon suv was parked just beyond the alley’s end, hazard lights blinking softly. the driver stepped out and nodded once, expression unreadable.

sophia adjusted the strap on her bag but didn’t move.

you stood beside her, not sure what else to do. it felt like if you said anything, it would undo whatever peace had formed between you over breakfast. perhaps even over the night itself.

she turned to you just as the driver opened the back door. “can i ask you something you might not answer?”

you tilted your head. “what is it?”

her eyes searched yours for a second longer than they needed to. “did you ever think about us? where would we be if i hadn’t left?”

the question landed low and deep, like a stone dropping into still water.

you looked down, then back at her. something in you cracked open, gently. you looked at her properly, throat tightening. she was looking at you intensely. “…in what way, piya?”

she shook her head, not unkindly. “you know what i mean.”

your heart beat in your ears, hands suddenly feeling like they didn’t belong to you. and still, you held her gaze.

“yeah,” you admitted. “i did.”

she nodded once like she had always hoped you would say that. you didn’t say anything else. neither did she.

then she got in the car.

you stood there until it turned the corner and disappeared from view.

something old had shifted. you could feel it.

whether that was good or dangerous, you didn’t know yet but it had a name.

and it was hers.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

twenty years ago

your lola had a way of dragging you into places you didn’t belong. she said it was character-building; that brushing shoulders with the rich might remind you to stand taller, even if your slippers were patched with thread and your shirt was two sizes too big.

you were five, tired and annoyed that sunday was being stolen from you again.

“just behave,” she warned as you stood outside the gates of a house too big to be real. “and don’t touch anything.”

you kept your hands locked behind your back.

forbes park was a place you only heard about in passing: on the jeepney, in the sari-sari store, from the mouths of women who folded laundry while daydreaming out loud. mansions with proper gates and real grass, where drivers waited in parked cars and mothers had help just to hold umbrellas. your lola knew sophia’s lolo from a church thing, you didn’t know the details.

all you knew was that your school shoes still had dried mud on them and that you didn’t want to be here.

the front door opened before your lola even rang the bell. someone must’ve been watching; the housekeeper smiled and told you both to come in. your slippers squeaked against the polished floor as you followed your lola like a shadow, trying not to look at the paintings on the wall, or the glass table you were sure would shatter if you breathed too hard.

“there she is,” someone said. a voice that didn’t rush, but didn’t slow down either.

you turned.

a girl with two high ponytails and a missing front tooth was skipping down the stairs like she owned gravity. she was wearing a sundress with tiny sunflowers and had one sock up and one sock missing entirely. bright-eyed, messy, loud.

you liked her immediately…hated that you did.

“this is y/n,” your lola introduced you, nudging you forward. “say hello to piya, anak.”

“hi,” you mumbled, eyes darting to the floor.

“i’m sophia,” the girl said, walking straight up to you without hesitation. she didn’t offer a hand. she grabbed yours instead, sticky and warm from holding a half-eaten popsicle. “do you like jollibee?”

you nodded, unsure.

“my dad bought spaghetti and chickenjoy,” her grin widened. “come, we’ll eat in my room.”

you looked back at your lola for assurance, she waved you on, already being ushered to the dining area by sophia’s mother.

her room was the size of your whole house. there were shelves filled with dolls still in their boxes and a tv that actually had cable. she dragged you to the floor, offering you her jollibee spaghetti first, then pushing a plate of fries toward you like it was a peace treaty.

you ate slowly; she talked non-stop.

about how her driver always gets lost, how she’s going to be famous one day, how she wants to live in new york because they have squirrels.

you had no idea what squirrels were but you nodded anyway.

and somewhere in between her talking about her dog, peanut, and showing you how she can do a cartwheel (badly), she said:

“let’s be friends forever.”

like it was the most normal thing to promise a stranger.

you stared at her, sauce still clinging to your lips, unsure if you were supposed to say it back.

but you said it anyway.

“okay.”

because deep down, even then, some part of you already knew: if anyone could make you believe in forever, it was none other than sophia laforteza.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the studio was chaos in that specific, almost theatrical way, like someone had tried to contain a cyclone inside four white walls and called it fashion. flashes cracked in quick bursts, overlapping instructions flew across the room: hold that, chin up, yes, that’s it, softer; and assistants weaved through the mess. makeup brushes tapped against palettes, someone was yelling about missing palettes and the speakers blasted a remix of a song you half-recognised but couldn’t place.

everything smelled like hairspray and coffee and nerves.

sophia walked in with easy posture, nodding at familiar faces, flashing the kind of half-smile that made people move aside.

she held your wrist briefly, pulling you a step closer towards her. “i won’t be long,” she murmured. “just…stay close to me, yeah?”

you nodded, gave her a faint smile. “i’ll be here.”

there was nowhere to go, really, so you didn’t move far. there were clusters of people, all of whom looked like they were already doing something important. you stood near a light stand, arms crossed lightly over your chest, eyes scanning the room.

it was overwhelming, but in that detached way - like watching a party from behind a window. you kept to the edges, tried to blend in, maybe even failed a little.

your phone buzzed in your pocket, but you didn’t check it. instead, you watched sophia disappear behind the makeup screen, already mid-conversation with a stylist. she tossed a quick glance back at you, smiling for just a second and you smiled back; felt something stupid and warm settle under your skin.

“bini girls!” someone yelled. “maloi, aiah let’s go.”

you didn’t expect the shoot to involve them but when one of the stylists called out names, you heard it clearly.

your brain definitely short-circuited for a moment as you tried to keep your cool. lowkey fan didn’t even cover it: you watched their dance practice videos like they were stress therapy, recommended lagi to aira during the slow month last year.

and now they were here: in the same room, wearing crocs and no makeup and carrying iced americanos like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“come here, y/n,” sophia pulled you out of your starstruck trance, voice carrying across the noise.

you nodded once, stepping around the cables carefully and stood beside her.

the makeup artist — small-framed, sharp-browed, probably could kill with a single brush stroke, grinned as you settled in. “so, you’re the mystery guest?”

you laughed once, shaking your head. “just moral support.”

her eyes flicked up at you in the mirror and she smiled a little too quickly.

“she keeps looking for you,” he added, dabbing blush across her cheek. “i thought you were her girlfriend or something.”

“we’re not,” you answered, voice steady despite feeling awkward. “just old friends.”

“ahhh, old friends,” the artist echoed, mock-suspicious. “sure.”

sophia was grinning now, eyes shut while her eyeliner got cleaned up. “he’s always like this, ignore him.”

“don’t ‘stop’ me. you haven’t taken your eyes off her since she walked in.”

you looked down at your hands, heart thudding, pretending to focus on a bracelet you weren’t wearing.

“she’s shy,” she added, tone teasing.

you kicked her lightly under the table.

you stayed like that for a while, talking about nothing and teased each other back and forth. you kept nudging her foot with yours under the makeup chair, the moment felt light, like something you could get used to.

eventually, the stylist gestured you to move so they could get her dressed. you stood, backed off with a quiet “good luck,” and wandered toward the far end of the studio, near the coffee table cluttered with water bottles, oat milk and half-eaten croissants.

you turned to your side and there they were.

“you’re the chef, right?” maloi asked, eyes wide and a little warm. “the one from concave?”

you blinked. “hmm, yeah, that’s me.”

she grinned. “your sisig got a write-up in spot.ph, didn’t it? i’ve had it bookmarked for months. oh, i’m maloi and this is aiah.”

you felt your mouth twist into something shy. “i’m y/n, and that was more chef kristoff’s doing. but thanks.”

“maloi wants to be fed all the time,” aiah mumbled, smiling from beside her. “she saw your name on the guest sheet and hasn’t shut up about you possibly bringing a meal for the crew.”

“i did not,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

you held your hands up. “i’m flattered. really. next time, i will though.”

they were easy to talk to: normal. maloi was quick-witted, had a dry sense of humour that matched yours better than it should’ve. she teased you about bigger proportions. you told her a boy group’s sound engineer had once tried to book a table under a fake name and still got recognised by chef aira.

aiah leaned in slightly, curious. “how do you and sophia know each other?”

“we grew up together,” you replied, crossing your arms. “we’ve known each other since we were five; her lolo knows my lola.”

there was a tug in your chest as the words left your mouth — how easily the past rolled off your tongue, how strange it felt to say grew up instead of have always been…as if the closeness belonged in past tense now.

“that’s kind of sweet,” maloi said. “and now she’s this huge star and you’re —”

“a tired chef with second-degree burns and a restaurant with an aggressive rice cooker,” you offered.

“still sounds cooler than us,” aiah laughed.

you smiled and deflected, asking about their shoot instead and maloi lit up describing it; how the concept was loose, that their manager still hadn’t picked final outfits.

aiah nodded along, interjecting now and then with dry humour. it helped that maloi had that kind of energy — disarming, quick to laugh, easy to match. you found yourself leaning into the conversation, even joking a little, answering their questions without filtering too much.

from across the room, you could feel her gaze.

sophia saw the way you stood; more open now. your hands loose in your pockets and laughing effortlessly. she caught the way maloi leaned toward you slightly when she spoke, saw the little smile you gave aiah after a joke.

her stomach turned…not violently, but just enough to feel it.

when your eyes met hers, her hair was pinned back and her expression unreadable. she looked…irritated. or maybe not that. she wasn’t talking to anyone; just watching you.

when she finally joined the other two for the shoot, the difference was immediate. she flipped back into performer mode so fast it made you feel like you were watching someone else entirely. her posture shifted. her face reset.

the camera loved her. and still, your eyes didn’t leave her.

she looked unreal, as if she lit from the inside, almost. every time she turned her head, your chest seized up a little. the sound of the shutter seemed to match your pulse.

at the end of it, the four of you gathered near the props table, sharing snacks and wiping off the stickiness of set lighting.

“so,” maloi began. “what do you feed her to make her skin glow like that?”

you chuckled. “sinigang. three-day-old reheated kind; the secret is neglect.”

aiah laughed with you. “we’ll take two.”

sophia didn’t smile, not really. she nudged a biscuit around on a napkin. when maloi turned to offer her a joke, sophia grinned, but her tone shifted.

you noticed the change immediately. the way she looked at you without really looking.

“you okay?” you asked her under your breath.

“fine,” she mumbled, eyes flicking back toward the food.

she was still friendly to the others; complimenting aiah’s earrings, laughing at something maloi said about posing like a tita at a reunion, but when she spoke to you again, it was clipped.

the conversation kept rolling, but you felt the dip in temperature. the little shift. you caught the way sophia kept talking to the other girls, laughing more now, but not looking your way.

you didn’t say anything. not until the goodbyes were done and you had promised everyone a free table at concave.

the drive back was slow, caught in the usual saturday night crawl along edsa, headlights flickering through rain-streaked windows.

the city was winding down, but the car wasn’t quiet in a peaceful way. it was the kind of quiet that pressed into your chest, made you conscious of every breath you took, of the space between your leg and hers.

sophia had barely said a word since you left the studio, just scrolled through her phone in silence; screen lighting her face in bursts.

you glanced at her briefly. she refused to look your way. hadn’t, since earlier. “you good?”

“what did you think of maloi?” she deflected your question, voice too casual to be casual.

you blinked, pulling yourself out of your thoughts. “she’s great,” you answered, keeping your voice even. “really easy to talk to — just like aiah.”

there was a beat of silence and then she gave a little huff, almost a scoff. “yeah, both seem like your type.”

you frowned, turning your head to face her properly. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“nothing.”

“you’re literally saying it means something,” you frowned, trying not to let your tone rise. “you brought maloi up.”

“i just noticed you two were getting along,” she replied, still not meeting your eye. “it’s not a crime.”

you exhaled through your nose, felt the burn of frustration settle in your throat. “you jealous or something?”

that made her laugh, dry and small. “of course not, why would i be?”

“don’t know, piya. you’re acting weird and short.”

she finally turned to you then. her expression was unreadable, but her jaw was tense. “you were different with her.”

you stared at her. “i was polite.”

“you were smiling and laughing and she was inching closer to you every single time.”

“am i not allowed to laugh around other people now?” you asked, tiredness creeping into your voice. “she made a joke. i laughed. you know what that’s like, right?”

she didn’t respond. she just looked away again, out the window, fingers twitching against her thigh.

you leaned your head back against the seat, stared up at the roof of the car like it could anchor you. you weren’t sure why this felt so loaded; why it mattered so much to her.

and yet — her words kept needling at you. the sharpness of her tone tucked under the soft. it made your chest ache in ways you had tried to outgrow.

“are you seriously upset about her?” you added, trying not to sound defensive, but already failing.

“no,” she said, too fast.

you turned your body slightly toward her, fingers curling into your thigh. “you are. you’re acting so cold.”

she scoffed under her breath. “i’m not.”

“okay,” you murmured, eyes narrowing as you turned back to the window. “right.”

the tension thickened. there was a time when you knew exactly how to reach her, how to read her mood with one glance, a shift in her jaw, a clipped breath. but now…after all these years; she felt like a puzzle you only half-remembered how to solve.

“it’s just…” she started, then trailed off.

you waited, nothing came. “just what, soph?”

she inhaled slowly, still refusing to look at you. “you don’t even realise when someone’s flirting with you. it’s kind of frustrating.”

you bit back a laugh, not because it was funny, but because it caught you off guard. “my god, it wasn’t flirting. we were literally at a coffee station talking about my restaurant.”

“sure,” she muttered.

“maloi has a boyfriend.”

“doesn’t make it any better.”

you sighed, long and low, before leaning back into the seat and closing your eyes for a beat. “this is ridiculous.”

“you’re ridiculous.”

you turned to look at her again, and this time, her eyes met yours. sharp and tired. there was something else behind them too: something raw, maybe even a little embarrassed.

you remembered that look: she used to wear it when you were kids, whenever she said something she didn’t mean and didn’t know how to take it back.

she would get defensive, go quiet, pick at her fingernails. you saw all of that now, right in front of you, like nothing had changed.

you turned your head slowly to look at her. her eyes were down now, lashes casting shadows on her cheeks, fingers playing with the frayed hem of her sleeve.

the silence this time was worse.

so you reached out without thinking. your hand found hers, warm and unsure in your palm. then you slid it over gently, placed it on top of hers the way you used to when you were kids. a quiet offering. a wordless ‘tahan na’ in the middle of everything that wouldn’t come out right.

she froze, breath hitching.

you didn’t look at her but you kept your eyes on your joined hands, the way her fingers curled slightly under yours, like they remembered.

“i’m sorry,” she spoke after a while, voice lower now. “i didn’t mean to get weird. i just…”

“i know.”

the streets rolled by outside, a slow blur of taillights and neon. and in the dimness of the car, something shifted back into place.

perhaps, you could both live with this thing between you, whatever it was. even if neither of you had the words for it yet.

you kept your hand there the rest of the ride. and she didn’t let go.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

tonight, concave belonged to people who knew how to take their time. you had forgotten how warm a restaurant could feel when it wasn’t just a job, when the air wasn’t heavy with orders and wait times and burnt pots.

the long table had been set earlier in the afternoon under low-hanging lights strung along the ceiling beams, soft shadows stretched across white linen and mismatched cutlery. there were extra chairs lined up just in case someone brought someone else last minute.

sophia and diana had planned it all; something about old friends and new chapters. you didn’t argue, just happy to cook.

in the bar, yohan looked more alive than he had all week. he stood behind the counter like it was his stage, lazily tossing lemons in the air while aira’s portable speaker blared old r&b. a playlist from the group chat titled “for the soul.”

one of the katseye girls, lara, maybe, was already perched on a stool with a glass of something bright and citrusy, her laugh carrying over to the kitchen.

yohan still couldn’t look at her.

in the kitchen, it was hell but the good kind. you were sweating through your shirt, wrists sore from all the chopping and ladling. the air was thick with the smell of sinigang, tamarind sharp in your nose and somewhere behind you, liempo sizzled against hot grill bars. herbs and spices clung to the counters and lumpia oil popped loudly in the corner fryer.

someone’s empty beer bottle clinked on the prep table, probably kristoff’s. he and leo were hovering near the turon like they hadn’t eaten in weeks and aira kept swatting their hands away with a spatula.

you stirred the sinigang, tasted it quickly off the back of the ladle and added a little more fish sauce. everything else could burn as long as the broth hit the right spot.

then, through the steam and haze, she appeared.

sophia…black dress, hair down, neckline low. she looked like she didn’t belong in this kind of heat; like the sweat, the fish sauce, the clatter of a dozen moving parts couldn’t touch her. she walked in quietly, barefoot now, heels probably left under the table. you didn’t notice her at first, not until she stood beside you and reached for the paper towel roll, tearing a piece off in one slow motion.

“you’re drenched,” she murmured and gently dabbed your forehead. “you’re gonna get sick if you don’t wipe it off - let me wipe your back.”

“what?”

your hand stopped mid-stir, her touch was soft. too soft. her fingers near your hairline, warm and clean and steady. you didn’t look at her. you couldn’t, not when your chest had just betrayed you by clenching up so fast.

she rolled her eyes. “lift the back of your shirt up.”

“i can do it,” you insisted, reaching for more paper towels but her hand stopped you. “piya…”

“what? you’re suddenly too grown for me to do it?” she clicked her tongue as she shook her head, lifting your shirt up to dab paper towels on your back. “now, wasn’t so hard hey?”

“ayieeeee!” kristoff’s voice cracked through the kitchen like a slap. followed by laughter, loud and terrible and echoing. you heard the clang of something dropped.

you finally turned your head, saw her smiling. lips pressed together like she was trying not to make it worse.

“ignore them,” she said, handing you the scrunched-up towel.

you blinked. “this is a kitchen. you can’t be in here with your untied hair.”

“then hurry up and feed us so i can be soft somewhere else, chef.”

you snorted, eyes darting toward the sinigang pot again, your pulse still uneven. “just sit back and wait for the best meal of your life.”

“always is,” she chuckled and walked out.

the second the door swung closed behind her, aira’s panic returned at full volume.

“oh my god,” she whisper-yelled, pacing near the fryer. “i cannot do this. that was sophia laforteza. she was here, again, in this kitchen. and now we have to plate food for her. and for katseye. literal katseye members!”

leo, ever useless, dramatically picked up a serving tray and bowed like a butler. “madam manon, may i present your steaming hot garlic rice and humble peasant lumpia.”

kristoff followed suit. “miss yoonchae, your turon awaits on a bed of banana leaf — harvested from davao’s finest plantation.”

she looked like she might faint; pale-faced and terrified. “can you both shut the fuck up? i’m having a crisis.”

“just act normal,” you muttered, laughing as you wiped your hands on your apron. “they’re regular people.”

“regular people with millions of followers and abs sculpted by the divine.”

“aira, breathe,” leo said, flinging a turon piece into his mouth. “you’re sweating more than the sinigang and y/n.”

before she could throw something at him, diana’s voice called from the hallway. “babe, where’s the leche flan?”

kristoff looked up, startled; he wore the face of someone who knew he fucked up. “uhhh, i thought i heard you say you were taking it.”

“excuse me?” she leaned halfway into the kitchen, fully done up in a green satin dress and gold hoops that caught the light. “do you think i’m stupid? i clearly remember our conversation, stop gaslighting me!”

he put his hands up in defeat. “you told me you had it covered. i asked! remember? i said, ‘babe, do i need to grab the leche flan from the fridge’ and you said ‘no, it’s sorted.’ sorted! those were your words.”

“don’t you try to gaslight me, kristoff, you fucking had one job,” she groaned in frustration. “next thing i know, it’s going to be our kids you’ll be forgetting to pick up.”

their back-and-forth spiralled quickly into a domestic episode while the rest of you watched in muted horror and amusement. you shook your head, heart full. it shouldn’t have felt this easy, but it did.

this kitchen, the mess, the arguing, the way diana rolled her eyes at kristoff like she has been doing it since she was fourteen; it reminded you of afternoons when you were still in high school, squeezing into godfrey’s car with takeaway wrappers at your feet and anthony’s guitar neck digging into your ribs.

it was all of you, all together again…for the first time in years. and this time, no one was leaving. not yet.

when the food finally made its way out, it spread across the long table like a painting you didn’t know you were capable of. it was almost overwhelming.

banana leaves ran the length of the wooden table, their glossy green catching the candlelight. the sinigang sat in clay pots at both ends, the steam curling in lazy spirals. grilled liempo, slightly charred and glistening, was laid across the centre beside the golden lumpia, fresh from the fryer.

small ceramic bowls of spicy patis and vinegar, each one glowing with floating chillies, were scattered in between. garlic rice was heaped into giant mounds and turon drizzled with coconut caramel waited for their moment.

it wasn’t exactly a traditional boodle fight; there were plates and forks involved, people here were too pretty and too moisturised for the usual rules — but it had the same spirit.

loud, messy, communal.

and the drinks didn’t stop. yohan was on his 20th shaker (had to be), pouring cocktails into anything that could hold liquid. beers clinked aira was screaming about how her eyeliner hadn’t even smudged despite all the oil she had inhaled and kyle turned the speaker louder.

you had barely sat down when a hand tugged you into a space between manon and lara.

“chef,” lara grinned, already halfway through her plate, “this sinigang is life-changing. like…actually life-changing. i think i saw god.”

you laughed awkwardly, trying not to trip over your chair. “it’s just sinigang.”

“just?” she gasped, turning to sophia with mock betrayal. “you never told me she was this good. baby, you’re lucky.”

sophia only raised her cocktail and gave her a look that didn’t say much, but it didn’t need to.

manon tilted her head at you, eyes sharp but not unkind. “did you train abroad?”

“uh — no,” you said, swallowing the sudden nervous tightness in your throat. “i studied here. ust.”

“classic,” she nodded in approval. “it’s always the ones who stay home who get it right.”

megan nudged daniela, chewing on a lumpia. “we’ve been following concave for a while. sophia talks about it so much, i had to see what the hype was. it’s unreal.”

your heart did a stupid skip. you tried to downplay it with a small nod. “i didn’t know she…talked about it that much.”

“yes! she showed me photos of the recent tasting menu like it was her baby.”

you glanced at sophia across the table. she was eating quietly, smiling to herself.

“so,” daniela piped up, chopsticks in hand, “are you always this quiet? or just because our sophia’s here?”

you choked on your beer, coughed once. “no, i — i mean yes. i mean…i’m just bad with new people.”

lara snorted into her rice. “you’re doing fine.”

yoonchae had been sitting across, quiet but observant, smiled softly and said, “can i help clear plates later?”

you shook your head. “no, no, just enjoy.”

“okay,” she replied, still smiling. “but really…are you single?”

your laugh came out caught somewhere between real and choked. “uhh, yeah.”

megan sipped her cocktail. “so is sophia.”

sophia rolled her eyes, but said nothing. manon threw her head back. “can you get a girlfriend already?” she said to her. “someone who cooks like this, preferably.”

lara leaned in again. “you two have real chemistry; just saying.”

“y/n’s only ever emotionally available for sophia,” leo laughed when you glared at him. “it’ll work.”

you wanted to slide under the table and disappear. your hands and chest were hot. even your knees felt like they’d been caught in a lie.

it was surreal, the way they all just made room for you. these women, so famous they didn’t need surnames, so beautiful it hurt to look at them sometimes. but they weren’t difficult. not at all intimidating once the food hit the table. they teased and asked questions and passed plates around like they had known you longer than an hour.

it was easy in a way that surprised you.

“so kyle,” diana was saying. “you’re going back on the ships?”

“as soon as that damn contract gets finalised,” he sighed, picking at the liempo. “they’ve been dragging it out, but i miss the ocean and getting paid to disappear.”

aira clinked her fork against his plate. “you miss not paying rent to your brother.”

“same thing.”

somewhere down the table, kristoff was explaining how he proposed by hiding the ring in diana’s karaoke mic. aira had everyone wheezing with her rant about her ‘stupid’ boyfriend who refused to learn how to use gcash.

then, just when the buzz had started to mellow into comfort, anthony leaned back in his chair, a smirk curling at his lips. “let me tell you girls something —” he pointed his fork between you and sophia. “— we all used to think these two would end up together.”

sophia’s face went red, ducking behind her glass like it could save her from god.

you glared at him, face burning. “here we go.“

“what? we did!” he declared. “ask diana.”

the way sophia looked now, pretending not to hear. you knew what he meant. and it wasn’t the first time someone had said it, but it was the first time it made you ache.

“best friends,” you corrected, eyes fixed on your drink but something shifted. it hit you with more force than you expected, a note played too loud in an otherwise gentle song.

did you think about it? of course you did. sometimes in the quiet and in your dreams.

and maybe even in all the things you never dared say.

kyle added. “nah, y/n was a wreck after you left, soph. she crashed out hard. wasn’t herself for a while.”

you groaned, already reaching for the turon. “i’m fine now.”

“she really wasn’t,” diana agreed. “barely spoke.”

sophia turned to you, pouty. she rubbed your back in slow circles. “i’m here now.”

you nodded, avoiding her eyes. “it was a long time ago.”

but it didn’t feel that way, not tonight.

by the time the meal was over, the night had softened into something else, more subdued. the drinks had been flowing for hours and most plates were empty or licked clean.

katseye had to fly back to los angeles in the morning, but sophia wasn’t going. she said it casually over dessert, told the girls she extended her stay by a week…just like that.

megan hugged you first. “thanks for dinner, chef,” she whispered. “she really likes being here.”

lara kissed your cheek. “take care of her, yeah?”

daniela gave you a once-over. “you’re kind of cool once you loosen up.”

manon just nodded and said, “we’ll come back. sooner than later.”

“please make sure you feed her,” yoonchae hugged you quietly, arms warm and light. “she forgets sometimes.”

you stood beside sophia as they climbed into their car, waving through the window, their hair slightly tousled from the manila humidity. they were loud even as the door shut. then the engine started and they were gone.

it wasn’t dramatic. no confessions, no big moment. just that strange, terrifying feeling of something unspoken.

something that never really left.

and then, of course, anthony had to ruin it. “more red horse for you lovebirds, eh?”

you groaned. “please shut up.”

but you were smiling. god help you, you were smiling.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

anthony was on his second bottle of red horse, red in the face and singing like he was on a stage somewhere deep in quezon. slightly swaying as the soft strum of bawat piyesa by munimuni crackled out from yohan’s old bluetooth speaker.

“to y/n and sophia,” he announced grandly, almost falling off his chair as he lifted his redhorse to raise a toast.

“stupid drunk,” you mumbled next to sophia.

she looked at you, grinning. “and you’re a sleepy one.”

god, you could get used to this.

the melody was tender, almost too tender for the thick beer haze they were all swimming in, but no one said a word. beside him, leo joined in, eyes half-closed as if it helped him find the right note.

you were humming gently to the rhythm, seated back in your chair, bottle cold in your hand. your head felt warm; tipsy. sophia kept stealing glances at you, that stupid fond expression on her face every time you accidentally caught her looking.

there was too much noise, too much singing, too much beer — but none of it felt overwhelming. just pretty fucking good.

and sophia…god, she was laughing like she hadn’t done it in years, hand to her chest, head tilted back slightly. she leaned toward you, brushing shoulders and that warmth lingered even after she shifted back.

kristoff had left with diana earlier, his arm slung over her shoulder as she threatened to make him sleep on the couch in hushed frustration. out the front, kyle and yohan were sharing a cigarette, their murmurs leaking through the gaps in the doors.

and aira, bless her, was still circling the table with her phone, snapping blurry photos of you and sophia together.

“for the kitchen wall,” she insisted before taking another shot from the worst angle possible.

you didn’t notice when sophia got up, only when she stood beside you, hand brushing the top of your shoulder. “come with me?” she asked.

you blinked. “what, now?”

“yeah,” her tone was softer than her laugh, careful. “just for a bit.”

no one said anything when you pushed your chair back. aira gave you a little wink, but you ignored it. sophia was already walking ahead, down the short path that led out to the side, the gravel crunching beneath her flats. you followed, the night shifting around you like the tide pulling back.

makati had stilled outside the roads were empty. someone’s tv was playing faintly in a nearby building, and the warm glow of the corner streetlight bled across the side steps of the restaurant.

it had cooled too. your cheeks were warm from the drink but the air was crisp, a reminder that it was well past midnight and the city had gone to bed.

there was a tree just beside the gate; old, overgrown and knotted in the middle like it had something to say. she looked back at you, then sat down on the low concrete edge. her hair was a little windswept, long dark strands catching in the breezeand the light hit her in a way that made her eyes seem darker, more open.

straight out of a magazine.

you hovered awkwardly until she patted the space beside her.

“just wanted to be alone with you for a bit,” she said quietly. you sat, not too close, your knees angled away from hers. the concrete was still warm from the day. she looked at you for a second, then murmured, “closer.”

you shifted, barely a few inches, but it was enough.

there wasn’t a rush to speak. silence settled easily. you listened to it, the crickets somewhere in the dark, the occasional honk from a jeep turning a corner blocks away. you looked sideways — she had her chin tilted up, staring at the leaves above her like she was waiting for the words to arrive there first.

then sophia turned to you, voice quieter. “do you remember the letter i mentioned?”

you nodded slowly.

“i wrote everything,” she continued. “poured it all out. what you meant to me. what i wished i’d said sooner. but there was a condition…i wrote that if you didn’t feel the same, then just pretend it never happened. don’t bring it up, don’t respond. i didn’t want to lose you completely and make it awkward.”

you turned to her. “what do you mean?”

she looked back at you then, properly. the lights from concave filtered across her face, a faint gold around her lashes.

she let out a breath that felt like it had been held for years. “i wrote that i was in love with you.”

your stomach dropped. for a moment, everything else vanished. the music, the beer, the laughter inside. you were a kid again, watching her through a window at the airport, your heart in your throat.

you swallowed, mouth dry. “sophia…”

“i didn’t consider you getting robbed,” she laughed weakly. “god, of all days. of course it would happen on the day i tried to say something real.”

“i didn’t know,” you began, almost to yourself, and your voice came out smaller than you meant.

“it was my fault,” she whisper, almost laughing, but there was no humour in it. “of course you didn’t. i didn’t even tell you i wrote anything before i left.”

you didn’t know what to say. all the moments rushed back — when you held her hand under the stars, how she brought gifts to your lola’s house, hugged you for too long and never said why.

“did you?” she asked. “feel the same?”

you turned to her, really looked. her eyes were glassy but open. ready.

“yeah,” you admitted, like weight off your shoulders. “i always have. maybe not in a loud way. but it was there. loving you felt like…breathing — didn’t have to think about it. it was enough for me just to see you happy.”

she blinked hard. then looked away, like it hurt to hear. “and now?”

you breathed in slow. “i don’t know, i’m still figuring it out.”

she nodded like she understood. she wasn’t expecting anything from you, not yet.

you looked at her, properly this time. “what are we doing?”

she let the question hang there, just for a second. “i don’t know either, i just know i like being near you. i like knowing who you are now. and i’m really glad i came back…even if it’s just for a little while.”

you weren’t sure who reached first, but your fingers found each other again, her thumb rubbing circles on your skin.

then, she leaned against your shoulder; the same way she used to when her mum picked her up late from dance class and she was too tired to speak.

you closed your eyes for a second, let the silence wrap around both of you. the streetlight buzzed overhead, someone inside laughed too loudly.

and still, the world outside held still for just a bit longer.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the laforteza family parties had always been loud. they weren’t wild in the traditional sense, but they carried a kind of well-fed chaos — every table heavy with food, every tita’s voice louder than necessary, every cousin appearing out of nowhere like they never left.

it had been held at their private residence in forbes park, a manicured lawn and a stone path lined with garden lights that looked like they were imported from europe.

you and sophia had arrived together in her manager’s van, sophia fixing her hair in the mirror while you adjusted the sleeve of the button-down she swore looked good on you. you hadn’t argued. you rarely did…not when she looked at you like that.

when she leaned over to get a taste of the mango float on your plate, her perfume brushed past you. vanilla and jasmine. something soft and expensive.

“you okay?” she asked, voice easy.

you nodded, giving her a small smile. “just nervous.”

she reached over and squeezed your hand, if only she knew how you could barely breathe whenever she did that. “you’ll be fine; they know and love you.”

and for a while, it felt like that might be true.

but somewhere between entering the gate and the fourth glass of wine being passed around, sophia got swept away. old friends, mostly from high school. the girls she cheered with; the boys whose names made her laugh in a way that said history.

you sat there, close enough to be part of the scene but distant enough to be forgotten by it. the chatter blurred into a high-pitched hum, broken by bursts of laughter you weren’t part of.

your plate stayed empty longer than it should’ve. you picked at the lumpia and finished your drink too quickly.

when you glanced over to the gazebo area, sophia was already standing alone with leon. they looked like a still from a glossy magazine, it was almost unfair how photogenic they were.

the sound of distant karaoke buzzed softly from a backroom. you were left in a sea of relatives and strangers, your name forgotten halfway through most introductions. you sat with godfrey and tita carla after a while, just to give your hands something to do — stirring the condensation on your glass of lemon, lime & bitters with a paper straw.

“how’s your mum doing, hija?” carla asked kindly, adjusting the pearls on her wrist. “she still makes your baon?”

you smiled politely. “every day. even if i say no. she’ll guilt trip me with her arthritis.”

godfrey laughed. “same old, huh.”

“same old,” you echoed, nodding.

the conversation drifted easily enough. he asked about concave. you gave him numbers — soft ones. told him about the new bookings for next week, how you were thinking of repainting the kitchen wall. he nodded, but you caught the way his eyes flicked towards your face, like he was measuring your answers against something else.

something quieter.

because you weren’t really there, not entirely. your eyes kept returning to the centre of the garden. sophia was with leon again, crouched by the sangria station, talking to a group of their old classmates.

leon handed her a glass and she laughed at something he said; head thrown back, hand brushing his arm as if by accident. the titas nearby were already whispering loud enough for you to hear.

“ay, they really look good together.”

“those two should — leon is a great guy.”

your ears started ringing, heard the soft clatter of a spoon fall into a bowl behind you.

they looked like a story that had kept going, even when you weren’t there to see it. there was ease in how they stood close and comfort in how the people around them saw them. and you?

you were just the friend she brought.

you forced a smile at godfrey’s next question — something about restaurant rent and local suppliers but your voice didn’t come. it stuck in your throat like something you had forgotten to chew. so you excused yourself instead; something about getting a refill.

the kitchen was quieter and the air smelled like grilled eggplant and sugar syrup. you poured yourself water, trying to cool down whatever you were feeling inside.

that’s when you heard it — muffled but clear. a girl’s voice, drifting from the hallway by the pantry. “…they tried dating after high school, right? i remember that. leon was so in love, i thought they would end up together.”

another voice chimed in, giggling. “same, they made such a good couple. it was such a bummer when it didn’t work — wait, didn’t sophia bring someone else to the party?”

“oh, that’s just her childhood friend; the chef from concave.”

you stood there with the glass half-full in your hand, staring at the tiles. something small curled and collapsed inside your chest and you felt it break without sound.

you didn’t know why that hurt more.

maybe you were always going to be the friend from childhood. the one who cooked, who people said kind things about, not the one people chose.

you were never going to belong in that world, either. it wasn’t about being intimidated; it was more about knowing you were the type of person who left parties early because small talk wore you out, who bought secondhand clothes, who used to split rent with four housemates and who grew up thinking happiness was only real when it was earned.

you walked out the side gate, didn’t say goodbye. but you barely made it to the end of the driveway when godfrey caught up.

“y/n,” he called out, breath caught between steps. “hey, what’s going on?”

you turned, tried to smile. “i’m just tired, tito. that’s all.”

he frowned, looked like he wanted to say more. but he didn’t stop you…just gave a small nod, one of those slow, uncertain ones men like him reserved for things they didn’t quite understand.

that night, your phone buzzed five, six, seven times. all her.

sophia: where are you?

sophia: are you okay?

sophia: please just tell me you’re safe.

you stared at the screen in your room, face lit blue by the light. you were in your worn out clothes now — your old high school shirt and some loose shorts. you kept the lights off and listened to the fridge hum.

told yourself to breathe through it but your chest wouldn’t settle.

because it wasn’t just about leon.

it was how easily she could forget you.

how easy it was for her to float through this world where everything was soft, familiar, and waiting…and how foreign it all still felt to you. you, who had to work for everything. still counted coins when the month stretched too long, didn’t wear sundresses or get handed glasses of sangria by boys that everyone liked.

your world was different; always had been. it worked when you were kids — barefoot and dreaming.

but now? she belonged to a different one. and maybe loving her was always going to feel like this. like almost and not enough.

you didn’t cry that night even though you thought you would. maybe the weight of it would crack somewhere soft inside your chest, but it didn’t. it just sat there, dull and unmoving, like a stone wedged into the lining of your ribs.

there was a dull ache in your lower back and a dry taste on your tongue when you woke up the next morning. it was barely seven. your phone was still off. you didn’t turn it back on; didn’t want to.

you didn’t want to see her name on your lock screen or read a paragraph that might explain things too late or worse: make you want to forgive her for something you couldn’t even name.

concave didn’t have you that day; you called aira and told her to run the kitchen. she joked that she was ready to burn the sinigang but her voice softened when she asked if you were okay. you said you were fine and she didn’t believe you, but she let it go.

you watered your plants, played the same bon iver record three times in a row, took a bath with the lights off. everything felt somehow muted like heartbreak repackaged into daily routine.

by mid-afternoon, the phone rang. the landline, surprisingly. it was your mum.

“anak,” she greeted, gently. “sophia came here. are you two okay?”

your stomach pulled in on itself. “what?”

“this morning. she looked like she hadn’t slept. said she just wanted to talk to you, but you weren’t answering any of her calls.”

you didn’t say anything.

“i didn’t ask questions. but she was holding something. a box of gifts, i think. and flowers. oh, and she gave me a really expensive chanel perfume and your lola a new set of china plates…that girl.”

you rubbed your eyes, felt that strange tightness creeping into your throat. “that’s good, ma, but what did you tell her?”

“that i don’t know where you are, even if i did. that if she really wants to talk, she should wait until you’re ready to listen.”

there was a long pause. you swallowed it down. “thanks, ma.”

“you okay?”

“not really.”

“you want me to cook?”

“maybe not.”

the day passed quietly. you cleaned your fridge out, cried for five minutes while slicing onions and threw out a tupperware that had gone grey. you almost turned your phone on at sunset; your thumb hovering over the button like it weighed more than your entire arm.

but you didn’t.

because the truth was, you didn’t know what would hurt more; knowing she meant everything or realising she didn’t know how to hold you when it counted.

and wasn’t that the thing about her?

sophia could light up a room, charm a crowd, make you feel like the only person on earth when she looked at you. but sometimes, when the lights dimmed and the music stopped, she forgot where she left you standing.

and you were tired of being forgotten.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the hours blurred together in the kitchen, one dish after another, the rhythm of prep and plating the only thing you could stand to follow. you had stopped replying days ago.

not just to the messages. to everything. to the world, really.

sophia had come by twice already this week. three, if you counted the morning yohan swore he saw her waiting outside in sunglasses and a jacket like a celebrity hiding from a scandal.

each time, you made them tell her you weren’t there.

“she asked if we could just tell you she stopped by,” leo muttered yesterday, drying spoons while stealing glances at you.

you didn’t reply, kept your head down, slicing eggplants into even strips until your fingers went numb from the chill of the cool room.

and today — today was the day she was leaving. you were aware for three days now since you started counting it down. plus, she had texted: intramuros. today. 11am. please just come. i don’t know what i did but i really miss you.

you didn’t answer.

instead, you buried yourself in prep. you had taken two 14-hour shifts back to back. didn’t let yourself sit for more than ten minutes at a time. it was easier, in here. surrounded by the steam of broth and the snap of fresh chillies hitting oil. it was was easy to convince yourself that numbness could pass for peace.

but everyone knew something was off.

you were talking less; the jokes you usually cracked over boiling sinigang broth had dried up. the sarcasm, the sharp but harmless way you used to scold the boys, gone. there was just you, hunched over the chopping board, sleeves rolled up, knife dancing across red onions like you were trying to make them cry first.

across the kitchen, kristoff watched you. you didn’t see it, but leo noticed him about to speak and shook his head. no.

aira, standing next to him, wiped her hands and mouthed go.

so he went.

“how long are you gonna do this?” he asked, leaning against the prep table with arms crossed, eyes calm but fixed. “she called diana. for the fourth time. asking if you’re okay, asking what she did. or if you hate her.”

you didn’t stop chopping. “i don’t hate her.”

“then what the fuck is this?”

you shrugged, feeling the heat crawl up your neck. not from the stove.

kristoff’s voice softened. “she’s leaving today, y/n.”

you placed the knife down and looked at him. “it’s better this way.”

“for who?”

you didn’t have an answer for that. or perhaps you did, but you were too tired to give it voice.

“you haven’t even responded to her last message, have you?” he continued. “the one she sent about today?”

your silence was enough of an answer.

he sighed, pushed off the table. “you don’t have to explain anything to me. but maybe you should ask yourself why you’re so afraid to see her. is it her? or is it you?”

then he left you there, the smell of chopped onions clinging to your hands, eyes stinging even though you hadn’t cried.

he quickly turned around, scoffing. “she came by again. yesterday, asking if you’d be in. you know what i said?”

you looked up at him.

“that you’re the most stubborn person i’ve ever met. and that if you didn’t get your shit together soon, you would end up losing something that could’ve been really fucking good.”

the kitchen fell quiet. even aira stopped pretending to sort cutlery. no one moved.

you didn’t say anything. you couldn’t. you kept hearing sophia’s voice in that last message.

your mind was spinning toward a future you couldn’t see clearly. five years from now. would you still be here, running the same station, pretending you hadn’t let something important slip through your fingers again? would sophia be in los angeles, too far gone to reach, too famous to touch?

you stared at the cutting board like it held answers. it didn’t. the thought of seeing her…having to explain that quiet ache sitting behind your ribs; it made you feel hollow.

not long after, you were snapped out of your trance by aira, who tapped your arm lightly.

“we need to tweak the ube recipe,” she began, a clipboard in hand. “thinking we should thicken the syrup? add edible flowers to the dish? for aesthetics?”

“sure,” you looked up, eyes glazed, and caught the clock above the fridge.

10:16 am.

a sudden jolt of panic pushed up your throat like bile. sophia. she would be waiting right now. maybe standing in the middle of intramuros, checking her phone every few seconds, hoping.

stupidly hoping.

your chest tightened.

without saying a word, you wiped your hands on your apron, untied it and tossed it onto the nearest hook.

kristoff looked up from the sink as you passed him on the way out. “where are you going?”

“to see her,” you replied, already halfway to the back door.

“finally,” he muttered under his breath.

aira just beamed, softly said: “go get your girl!”

the sky was greying by the time you made it out to the street. rain was threatening to fall but not quite yet. your steps were quick, head low, the jeepney ride from makati to manila a blur of dust and diesel and every reason you have ever had for leaving things unsaid.

you held onto the rail tightly as the jeep lurched over potholes. every time your phone buzzed in your pocket, your stomach clenched.

you didn’t check.

because your heart was in your mouth. you hated yourself for this; for running out in the middle of lunch, for possibly being too late, for the fact that a part of you still wanted her to be there.

but more than anything, you hated that you couldn’t keep her out. not really…even now, even still, you were chasing the same hope that always broke you.

you just wanted to see her.

if only for a moment.

if only to say goodbye.

if only to stop wondering what could’ve been.

what if this is it: what if this is the last time?

your heart thudded hard in your chest. you tried to slow it down. reminded yourself of the facts: she was leaving, she always going to leave. it was her thing now. planes, performances, exits. you could never follow.

but still, she asked to see you. begged. please.

you owed her that.

you owed yourself that.

the rain started halfway through buendia, light enough to blur the glass but heavy enough to make the roads smell like dust and wet pavement. you wiped your palms against your jeans and counted the stops. your stomach felt tight, jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

intramuros felt further than ever.

you had to…see her one last time, properly. not like the last time; where her voice was buried under laughter that wasn’t meant for you. you deserved a goodbye that didn’t feel like punishment. and maybe, probably, she deserved one too.

the streets of intramuros were slick with rain, cobblestones reflecting dim morning light that slipped through the low clouds. a few umbrellas dotted the plaza, mostly locals moving slowly, already resigned to the weather. the drizzle had started soft but steady, soaking through your hoodie as you stepped off the jeepney, heart thudding against your ribs like it didn’t want to be there.

you spotted her instantly.

sophia, sat on one of the stone benches just by the fountain, her head bent low like she wasn’t sure how long she could keep waiting. you paused, let yourself watch her for a second, like you haven’t in days. she looked tired, drenched in something heavier than just the weather, and still so unfairly beautiful that it ached.

you didn’t say anything as you approached. your shoes hit puddles with dull slaps. the sky was all steel above. sophia looked up and blinked, startled, then immediately stood.

you walked closer but didn’t reach for her. she stepped forward and hugged you tightly, arms wrapping around your shoulders like a reflex. damp warmth, all clove perfume and the shape of someone who had once been almost yours.

her voice was right at your ear. “can you talk to me, please?”

when she pulled back, her brows furrowed. she tried to catch your eyes, but you wouldn’t give them to her.

“why won’t you look at me?” she ask, stepping away. “why won’t you look at me, y/n?”

you stayed quiet. then her hands came up, cupping your face — not softly, just desperate. “do i mean nothing to you now?”

that hit you in the chest. not because it was true, but because it wasn’t. the truth was she meant too much, too deeply.

you finally looked her in the eye. and she flinched like she saw something in your expression that hurt her more than silence.

“say something,” she continued, voice cracking. thunder rolled somewhere in the distance and she flinched again, eyes darting to the clouds before coming back to you. “please.”

your gaze dropped to the cobblestone beneath your feet, blurred now with the beginnings of rainfall. “i’m sorry,” you said quietly. “for disappearing. it was just…easier.”

“easier?”

her eyes were so brown it almost hurt to look at; so filled with all the things you didn’t know how to hold.

you cleared your throat as she waited for you to continue. “there’s always going to be someone better for you,” you murmured. “someone who can give you the world.”

her brows pulled together, eyes narrowing. “why do you always do this?” her voice cracked. “why do you always make that choice for me?”

“because it’s true.”

“you’re a fucking coward.”

you flinched.

“you think pushing me away makes you noble?” she asked, frustration crawling out of her voice. “you think it makes you selfless? you’re just scared. scared of letting someone love you.”

you looked away again, watching the rain start to pepper the stone around you.

“we should leave. it’s about to come down harder,” you said, already trying to step back. “we should say our goodbyes.”

she laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and shaking. “you’re unbelievable,” her eyes were glassy now. “you think this was just some sweet reunion for me? a little nostalgia? god — y/n, i have been in love with you for years. and i thought maybe, just maybe, you felt the same way.”

your stomach dropped.

she continued, each word landing heavy.

“i can’t meet anyone else without thinking about you. i can’t even look at someone for longer than a minute without worrying if you’ll think i’ve moved on,” she took a shaky breath, tears pooling now. “because part of me is always waiting…just waiting for you to see me. really see me. and not push me away.”

she stepped closer.

“i love you,” she confessed, her voice softer. “and you don’t even have the decency to look me in the eye and say anything.”

the words repeated inside your head: i love you. but what good does love ever do?

she shoved you, lightly, like the words weren’t enough to carry the weight. “say something.”

your hands found her face before your mind caught up, warm skin under wet fingertips. her cheeks flushed with cold and hurt and heartbreak. her tears were silent now, mixing with the rain as it began to fall heavier.

you held her gently.

you told her not to look back.

“find someone who can give you the things i can’t,” you answered, voice softer now. “go chase your dreams. you’re more than this. more than me; there’s someone who’s not afraid of how much they love you.”

but sophia only looked at you, soaked now, cheeks slick, jaw clenched like she was trying not to break in half. she shook her head, wet hair flying. “fuck, y/n.”

“i’ve always been okay just loving you quietly. you don’t have to give me anything, piya.”

“i want to,” she cried. “i love you. i choose you. why can’t you just — why can’t you choose me too?”

“i’m scared,” you whispered.

“i am too,” she shot back. “but i’m here.”

you shook your head. “you’ll leave again. your life’s out there, soph. not here.”

“then i’ll come back,” her voice was rising now. “again and again and again if that’s what it takes, but you keep pushing me away like i don’t matter!”

you stared at her, voice hollow. “you matter too much.”

“then tell me, why can’t you choose me?”

you swallowed. “because one day you won’t choose me back and i don’t know if i can survive that.”

you didn’t know what else to say - your mind was a spiral of everything you ever wanted and all the reasons you told yourself you didn’t deserve it. your thoughts kept folding in on themselves: memories of childhood, of her hand in yours, of the letter you never got to read, of the years you spent loving her quietly and alone.

she stepped back, rain dripping from her lashes.

“you think i forgot you when leon was around?” she snapped. “do you really think i ever looked at anyone the way i look at you?”

you didn’t answer.

“i was never with him. we tried once, years ago. it didn’t work because he wasn’t you.”

“but it’s so easy for you,” you mumbled, chest tight. “to laugh with him. to disappear into that world. i don’t belong there, i never did. you and i both know that.”

she stared at you like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. then something shifted in her face — something cracked.

she clenched her jaw, her eyes flashed. and she stepped forward.

you turned away. and that was when she grabbed you. fists balled in your shirt, mouth trembling, voice raw: “why won’t you let me love you?”

then she slammed her lips against yours.

it was angry and messy and soaked through with years of almosts. her lips collided into yours like a storm as everything she hadn’t said was stored in her mouth and now you were finally allowed to taste it.

your hands found her waist, pulling her in, your body betraying every fear you had ever held. her hands cupped your face again like she needed to hold you steady.

if she didn’t, she would fall apart.

you felt everything all at once: how long she had waited, how much she had wanted, how deeply she was willing to ache just to be loved by you.

and you hadn’t kissed anyone like that before. not in your entire life.

when you finally pulled apart, breathless, soaked, the air thick with everything unsaid…you didn’t know what to say.

the rain slowed into a drizzle, the kind that lingered like fog on your skin, soft and silver under the overcast light. you hadn’t let go of her yet, neither had she. your fingers were still curled around the hem of her hoodie, her forehead pressed against yours. every part of her was damp and trembling, but warm in the places where your bodies met.

you could still feel the echo of her kiss; bruised and tender and honest.

she exhaled against your lips like it hurt to breathe without touching you. “i have a flight tonight,” she began, voice low and careful, as if saying it too loud might shatter the moment between you.

your stomach turned at the thought. not because she was leaving — because she might not come back.

but then she cupped your jaw again, steady this time, her thumb brushing the edge of your cheekbone. “but before i go, i need to know something.”

you stared at her, giving you the look she always used to give: certain and full of questions. it had never left, just grown quieter over the years.

“do i still have something to come home to?” she asked, not blinking. “to you?”

your mouth parted, but nothing came out. it took a breath, then another. your thoughts scrambled around all the reasons you had built up to keep her out: the distance, the history, the fear, the ache that never quite stopped.

but she was here. and suddenly, all of it felt so small compared to this.

you nodded, slowly at first, then with certainty. “yeah,” you said, voice breaking just enough to be real. “yeah, you do.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the end (for now)

[flofaiiry]

how jack abbot shows love

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ told through the five love languages ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

warnings: written somewhat informally (some uses of “i think that…” etc), fem!reader, sort of implied but not specified age gap, in the physical touch section there's oral f!receiving & other sort of smutty details also praise (good girl etc) and a hint of oral m!receiving in the words of affirmation i couldn't help myself, everything else is just fluff!!!

wc: 2.2k

note: wanted to write some cute fluff to try and get outta this mini slump bcs i have been hitting a WALL when trying to write smut lately. i'm not sure if this has been done before but i thought it was a cute idea!!! dividers are by @ diviniyae !! also sorry if some of these are shorter than others :(( send me an ask if there's anything u want me to elaborate on & i'll try my best !!!

♡ acts of service

if you work together jack always comes down from the coffee shop in the cafeteria with two cups in hand. he memorized your order after the first time he heard you say it so he likes to make sure you've always got one at the start of the shift.

jack knows how much you love to cook but hate cleaning afterwards, so he'll slip into the kitchen while you're working & wash the dishes you've used. you always say something along the lines of, "it's okay, i can do it after," but he just shakes his head and says it's only fair that if you cook he does the cleaning.

he fixes things around the house, buys more of the moisturizer you use when he notices you're running low, replaces things you've lost etc etc. what's most important to note is that he never draws attention to the fact that he's done these things. he knows you'll notice, and doesn't feel the need to make it about him and make it seem like he wants something in return.

has breakfast started and coffee in the pot before you wake up & sometimes even brings it to you in bed if he's feeling extra fancy. if you're sick you don't even have to say the word, he's taken everything off your plate and will be there for you however you need him.

"i don't think i can go to work today," you say, voice weak and exhausted. jack has to bite back a smile at how extremely congested you sound. he strokes a hand over your hair, "i know baby. i already called your work 'n told them you wouldn't be coming today." you look at him with a little bit of disbelief in your eyes, "i can't believe they were okay with that." he shrugs, "they weren't. not at first. told them it was doctor's orders, just didn't specify the doctor was your boyfriend." you smile and shake your head a little bit, "i can't believe you." he just leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, "go back to sleep."

he remembers what songs & artists you like and has added them to his playlists so that they come on when he's driving. he loves the look on your face when you recognize the song after a single beat & are amazed at how he knows it's your favourite.

jack has no problem taking on a little extra if he can see that you're worn out or just extra tired lately, if he can take something off your plate & make the day easier for you then he does it, no questions asked- he knows you'd do the same for him if he needed.

♡︎ gift giving

jack is the epitome of a "this reminded me of you so i got it," boyfriend.

out getting groceries and sees a bouquet of flowers that are exactly the same shade as the colour you chose for your nails? they're coming home with him. new local vendor in the lobby at the hospital & they've got all kinds of trinkets he knows you'd love? he's taking out his wallet.

he sees you scrolling on pinterest or tiktok before bed, he notices the videos and images you linger a little longer on & save for later. if there's something you've been eyeing but hesitating on buying- a box shaped suspiciously like that item appears on the kitchen table a few days later.

you make a joke once and call him your sugar daddy or something, he just shrugs and tells you if it makes you happy then he wants you to have it. he doesn't necessarily buy you things to "spoil you," you can afford to buy the things he gets you for yourself, but you often hesitate to spend money on yourself. jack notices, and he hates that you think you aren't deserving of that sort of thing so he takes it upon himself to show you that you are.

and circling back to the bouquet thing- he 100% makes sure you have fresh flowers on the table all the time. it doesn't matter if you've been together for 3 weeks or 3 years, this man will bring you flowers before a date.

if there's something you collect, whatever it may be - cds, vinyls, charms - literally anything, if he's out somewhere and sees them or a specific one you've been looking for he gets it.

"didn't take you as a charm bracelet kinda guy," robby teases coming up beside jack and looking over his shoulder. jack just shakes his head, eyes scanning through the vendor's display, "it's not for me." robby smiles, "ah," he mouths, "for the lady?" jack nods, "she's got a whole box full 'a these things, but somehow no butterflies," his eyes stop on one charm, he picks it up slowly, before showing it to robby, "so i'm getting her the butterfly."

jack never forgets things like your birthday or anniversary. he doesn't need to have them marked down on a calendar or in his phone, he just remembers. for these bigger moments, the gift he gets you is obviously more significant. not to be cliche, but one of his favourite gifts to give you for the occasion is jewelry. probably half of your collection is stuff he's gifted you over the course of your relationship.

he remembers if you're a silver or gold girlie, if you've mentioned liking studs or dangly earrings more, if you like dainty chains on necklaces or more chunky ones. he remembers all of it. so when he goes to the store he tells the associate all this, who then brings out a few pieces they think emulate that the best. he loves the idea of you thinking about him whenever you decide what to put on in the morning, or that when people ask where something's from you'll say, "my boyfriend got it for me."

♡ physical touch

jack loves! to! be! touching! you!!!!! he's constantly got his fingers laced through yours when you're walking together or just near each other. when he's driving, he's got a hand on your thigh. he definitely does the hand on the lower back thing whenever he's guiding you somewhere or you're in a crowded place. he just always wants you to know he's there.

he can tell when you've had a long day at work & will wordlessly come over to you and just let you bury your head in his chest, running his hands up and down your back soothingly and kissing the top of your head. he lets you cry if you need to cry, not saying anything until you're ready & just holding you in the meantime.

he loves loves LOVES when you lie down on the couch with your head in his lap so he can run his fingers through your hair. he finds it so calming & grounding & cute that you fall asleep almost every time he does it.

jack kisses you like the answers to all the worlds problems can be found on your lips. he's more than happy to kiss you all night long and never escalate it into anything more. it's not uncommon for you to just lie side by side in bed, lips moving in perfect tandem, legs all tangled up and hands all over each other.

in bed, jack is a very giving lover. sure, he likes sex, who doesn't, but nothing gets him off more than seeing you feel good and knowing he's the one making you feel that way. his favourite place to be is with his head buried between your legs, fingers working you through your nth orgasm of the night with your hands tugging at his hair because it just feels too good.

all you can see is jack's salt and pepper curls peeking out from between your thighs. he’s already make you cum once but that’s not enough for him. his tongue’s licking diligent strokes up your slit, two fingers curling inside you to hit just the right spot that makes your hips buck into his mouth and your back arch off of the bed. he brings his free hand to your hip, keeping you from squirming too much as he sucks at your clit. the noises you make only encourage him, and you swear every time you moan his name you feel him smile against your cunt.

♡ words of affirmation

phrases along the lines of: "good job" & "i'm proud of you" & "i love you" & "you're so beautiful," fall from jack's lips like they're the easiest things in the world to say. he obviously truly means them but he takes extra care to vocalize it to you because he sees the way you light up when he does.

he’s a big texter for sure, since a lot of the time when he’s at work he doesn’t have time for anything more than a quick check on his phone. before you move in together he texts you good morning & good night every day & asks you if you got home safe. messages you throughout the day if he's not with you to ask how you're doing or ask you if you’ve eaten anything or even just to tell you that he’s thinking about you.

to get a teeny bit nsfw, jack definitely has a huge thing for praise. loooves to call you a good girl, tell you how pretty you are, how good you taste, how well you take everything he gives you etc. he’s very vocal esp when you’re giving him head, telling you how good you feel and how you’re doing such a good job.

if he’s in a store & they’ve got a pretty card he thinks you’ll like, he’ll buy it for you just to write a little love letter in it or something.

jack walks in through the door with a few bags of groceries in one hand and a little pink envelope in the other. he sets down the bags in the kitchen before going over to you to hand you the letter. you take it, a little confused, you genuinely wonder if you’ve forgotten about your birthday. when you open it, it’s a beautiful, fancy hallmark card. inside, a few paragraphs written with whatever pen he found lying around in the car. he watches you read it with a little smile on his face, seeing how it almost brings a tear to your eye when you read it- just sentence after sentence about how much he loves you and how you make every day better by just being in his life and how lucky he feels to have found you.

i’m not sure if this falls under words of affirmation but he definitely loves pet names & nicknames and stuff like that. terms like baby, sweetheart, baby, honey, my love, all of it. even if it’s just a nickname for your first name, he likes to have that sort of special connection with you.

♡ quality time

if he’s not at work or sleeping off a night shift jack is with you.

he loves to take you on dates, whether they’re just simple dinner and a movie’s or more elaborate day trips somewhere or walking around downtown all day. his favourite kinds of dates are the ones where you get to talk- so admittedly movies aren’t his preference. he loooves talking to you, hearing what you have to say, bantering back and forth on a hot topic, and just the sound of your voice in general.

but you’re both busy people, and often don’t have the time or energy to be going out all the time, which is fine because jack is more than happy to just spend a lazy night in with you. maybe you order takeout or maybe you cook something together, as long as he’s with you he doesn’t care.

sometimes though when one or both of you are just absolutely drained, he likes to just do nothing with you. scrolling on your phones with your feet in his lap, wordlessly watching the news side by side. when words are too much effort, he’s more than happy to just be next to you.

jack gives me big reader vibes. one day he takes you to a cute little indie bookstore where you each pick out a book to spend the rest of the day curled up in bed together reading.

he also loves to travel, so you two definitely go on trips whenever your schedules line up. he loves planning itineraries but always works in days for you to just lounge around the hotel or by the pool.

“what’s this?” you ask, nodding at the plane tickets stuck on the fridge. jack looks over at you, “i noticed that we have a week off at the same time next month so i thought we’d go somewhere.” you take the tickets from under the magnet, reading them over. “bahamas!?” you say excitedly once you spot the destination. he nods walking over to you, “needa get out of this depressing pittsburgh winter. spend some time by the beach, drink in hand, getting tanned and attacked by seagulls.” you laugh, and pull him into a hug, “thank you baby,” he smiles into your shoulder, “of course, we need this. been workin’ our asses off lately,” he pulls away to press a kiss to your cheek, the leans in right next to your ear, “plus i really like the way you look in a bikini, so that’s a bonus.”

send an ask if you want me to write one of these for any other characters!!! (robby, pope, etc!!!) or if u want me to elaborate on any points :P

[marvelouslymarly]

After Midnight (Bob Reynolds x female superhero!reader)

[Gif credits to @a-reader-and-a-writer]

Pairing: Bob Reynolds/Robert Reynolds/the Sentry/the Void x female superhero!reader

Summary: You're out with the team when some dude starts acting like an ass. Bob helps you get away and takes you home to show you how a lady should be treated...

Rated E for explicit - Minors do not interact!!

CW: physical violence (bar brawl); the void showing up for a second there; some hints at sexual harrassment/assault (no on page rape!); Bob dancing with reader; fluff; half of this is smut (first time reader and Bob sleep together; oral/female and male receiving; fingering, p in v sex (protected); multiple orgasms) [i think i need a pastor]; minor thunderbolts* spoiler warning bc this is set after the film

Word count: 10.6k words (and I thought the last one was a long one, LOL)

Masterlist

[A/N #1: Got the idea for this on the drive home from my parents' place while listening to After Midnight by Chappel Roan, so here you go]

[A/N #2: thank you to @scuttle-buttle for cheering me on and reading through this!!! Dedicating this to you, babes🫰🏻]

The music was blasting over the speakers, and you could feel the beat in every cell of your body. The team had decided to go out that night, needing a break from training and recon-missions and the same old day-in-and-day-out of the last few weeks. While the guys had stayed back at the bar, Ava and Yelena had pulled you into the center of the dance floor, telling you to put yourself out there and have some fun for once. You knew that they were right. It had been a while since you forgot about work and everything that came with first being one of Val's shadow ops and then becoming part of what Val intended to become the new Avengers.

Even after a few months, the title still didn't feel right. It was just too loaded with expectations, with ideas and opinions about who you should be, what you should or shouldn't do. You guys weren't shiny and new. You were rough around the edges, with problems and your own past full of mistakes and regrets. You all had things you'd like to forget or wished to have gone up in flames with every little detail Val put in that vault.

Being called the "new Avengers" felt like stepping into footsteps not only way too big to fill, but also just the wrong shape to begin with. It was like trying to match the tracks of bears with those of lions. You were a different species of heroes - and even calling yourself heroes felt wrong somehow. You were too familiar with being the bad guys, with having your stories twisted, being used for whatever wrong someone wanted done without getting their own hands dirty. But now, you were supposed to be the ones stopping the bad guys, to fight the guys you were made out to be before.

So, this night out felt like the right call for multiple reasons. It was good for forgetting about work, but also for getting to know each other outside of work settings. You'd lived with them for months and knew everything about who preferred what guns, who would do what whenever you were out on missions but whenever you came home, you'd retreat into your own spaces, resting and trying to figure out where you all fit into whatever Val had in mind when she called the press on you and announced her new team of superheroes come to save the world.

~~~

Earlier that evening, while putting on that one dress in the back of your wardrobe, you could hear your mother's voice in the back of your head, telling you not to dress this provocatively. To be a good girl and cover yourself before the Lord's eyes. You felt the anger you'd repressed for so long bubble back up inside of you. Images of the time before you ran away from home came rushing back in. 

The front lawns of the neighbourhood peppered with signs with psalms and verses written on them. Crosses in every room of the house you’d grown up in. The metal rods and mosquito nets outside the windows to “keep evil out” but, in all honesty, they were there to keep you from climbing out the windows in the middle of the night. Memories of everything your parents tried to make you believe about the virtues of life and how to be a pious girl and a good servant of the Lord. 

You could feel the bile rise, thinking back to the person they had tried to turn you into.Their attempts to marry you off to some boy from the community. Michael Dawson. A good boy, named after the archangel. A god-fearing boy just barely old enough to drive a car. In the year before your parents had told you about their plans, you had barely exchanged two sentences with him. But still, it was blatantly obvious to everyone who looked at him and at the way he looked at Paul for even a second, that this probably wouldn’t have been the happy and sacred marriage your parents had envisioned for you.

When the blip first happened, it felt like you were set free from everything you hated so much. With your family gone, there was nothing holding you back from leaving the community while the rest turned to prayers and service. Just having turned 18 a couple of weeks ago, you’d grabbed the keys to your father’s truck and never looked back.

You caught a look of yourself in the mirror and thought about how far you'd come in the last 8 years. How much distance you'd put between your old life and this new one - regardless of how lost you still felt sometimes. You thought about how you moved to the big city and took up self-defense classes after a close call on your way home from work one night. How powerful you felt once you’d realised you loved to fight and get stronger both physically and mentally. That now, there was very little that you couldn’t get through because you didn’t have to rely on prayers anymore.

You pulled the dress down in the front, revealing more cleavage, and adjusted how your breasts sat in the built-in cups. The thought of your mother’s jaw falling to the floor at the sight of you in this get up, her hands doing quick work to bless herself, sent a smirk to your lips. You smoothed out the dress, letting your hands dance over the sides of your body while you admired yourself. The tightness of the dress, hugging you in just the right places, the skirt just long enough to cover the ass that you trained so hard for. Reapplying the dark red lipstick, you smacked your lips in a playful manner and ran your hand through your locks before leaving your room and joining the others in the common area of your shared apartment.

You could still hear the whistles Walker had sent your way, adding an approving 'looking good, [y/l/n]' after standing up straighter and looking you up and down. You rolled your eyes at him while you put your purse over your shoulder, and then adjusted the leather jacket thrown over your am.

"You clean up nice, too, I guess," you retorted and looked around the group.

Ava and Yelena had put themselves into their best party outfits as well, wearing a knowing smirk while putting up both thumbs, respectively. When your eyes landed on Bob, you could see a faint pink tint to his cheeks, and he quickly averted your gaze, nodding vigorously.

"Yeah, you look really nice... Really... nice, yeah!" He cleared his throat, the blush deepening a few shades. His jaw clenched and you smiled to yourself, having secretly hoped he'd like the way you'd dressed up.

When you'd first met him in the vault those few months ago, in the scrubs that seemed three sizes too big for him, he looked like a helpless puppy, his blue eyes so big and excited at what he'd stumbled into - literally. But then, when you saw what he was capable of, both as the Sentry and the Void and your interest in him grew. He was no longer just the sad, helpless puppy but something more intriguing. Someone with layers that you wanted to uncover one at a time.

After first moving to New York and into the Watchtower with the others, there weren't many chances for you two to interact, to get to know each other better. But when it became more and more obvious that he wasn't ready to be sent out into missions with the rest of the team just yet, you came up with the idea of rotating who would stay at home with him. The rest of the team welcomed the idea of it and so, whenever someone wasn't needed for the mission, they'd try and help Bob figure out how to channel his inner Sentry without also summoning the Void with it. Or they'd bake cakes or make dinner for when the others came back.

You'd stayed back with him two times at that point but every time you asked if he wanted to join you for a gym session or for a swim in the new pool, he'd come up with excuses. Saying he'd sprained his ankle the last time he was working out with Bucky or that he'd just done his daily laps in the morning and was looking forward to reading that one book he didn't have the chance to get to yet. The first time around, you figured he was just a little anti-social and needed some more time to get comfortable but then you heard about how Yelena had gotten him to punch the punching bag so forcefully that it came off the hinges and flew to the other side of the gym and how even Walker could convince him to try some new technique to compartmentalise.

When he declined your invitation to watch a movie the second time you stayed behind, you grew weary, scared that you'd done something wrong or that he just simply didn't like you at all. That the interest you had in him wasn’t reciprocated. But, seeing him blush at the sight of you all dolled up set the tiny bit of hope you still had ablaze once more. On the way to the bar, you caught yourself disengaging from the conversation, coming up with ideas or ways to get him on his own, hoping that he’d be more forthcoming once he had a drink or two in him.

~~~

The feeling of arms slipping around your waist brought you back to the bar and to the song you were mindlessly singing along to. Hands were moving down to your waist, holding onto you as you swayed your hips from side to side. Your eyes travelled down your figure, thinking that maybe it was one of the guys playing a trick on you but then you didn't recognise the tattoos winding up the left forearm and into the rolled up sleeves. Your head turned to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of you had come up behind you but you couldn’t quite make out who it was, an uneasy feeling settling in your stomach.

Looking around for the girls, you saw that Ava and Yelena had gone back over to the bar, probably to get you guys some drinks. Also sitting at the bar, you made out Walker, Bob and Bucky - the latter engaged in a conversation with some girl desperately trying to get his number from the way she pushed her phone into his direction, a bright smile on her lips, despite the restrained expression on his face and him shaking his head repeatedly, pushing her phone back every time it made contact with his chest. 

Wildly gesticulating with every fiber of his being, Walker was talking to Bob, who was staring into the glass in front of him. You weren’t sure if he was just lost in thought or if he had one too many, his face inattentive and his shoulders slumped. His gaze wandered over to you, as if he’d felt your eyes on him, and then to the guy behind you, his jaw clenching tightly. Just as quickly as his eyes had met yours, they were back on the remnants of whatever drink he had been musing before, his knuckles turning white in the dim light.

The arms around your hip pulled you back, bringing your attention back to the dancefloor, and you felt a very clammy shirt press into your shoulders before the smell of cheap alcohol mixed with even cheaper breath mints filled your nostrils. Your whole body tensed, when the guy’s right hand travelled back up your side and stopped just under your breast for a second, before moving to the front and up to your neck.

"Hey, Mama, you alone here," the voice slurred questioning, hot breath hitting your ear and neck, and sending goosebumps down your body. His hand was slowly wrapping around your neck and made you turn your head again. Out the corner of your eye, you could clock the name tag on his shirt, making out ‘Sam’ written in cursive stitches.

Feeling your throat close up from the stinging aroma of the cheap liquor he must've bathed in, you tried to push Sam’s arms off of your body, scratching at his skin. But his grip didn’t budge one bit, only growing tighter, his nails digging in through the fabric of your dress and into your neck.

Your desperate pleas for him to let go of you seemed to be useless, lost to the loud music coming from the speakers in every corner of the dance floor. But you couldn't get anything out above a feeble whisper, tears brimming in your eyes while snippets of the last time you went to a bar raced through your brain.

"Why are you so tense? Let's have some fun, baby," Sam pushed and started to grind into you from behind, his dick getting harder with every move, pressing into your behind.

Again, you looked around for the rest of the team, hoping someone would notice your struggle and come over to help. But Ava and Yelena were nowhere to be seen, and Walker must’ve gone out to get some fresh air with Bucky because they weren’t where you had last seen them either. The only team member you could still make out was Bob, sitting at the bar with his back turned to you, waving down the bartender for another drink.

Realising you were on your own in this one, you tried to turn around, to get some leverage on him and were just able to turn your face away when he leant down and tried to press a kiss to your lips. 

“I told you to leave me be,” you repeated forcefully, your flat hand landing on his cheek in a satisfying slap.

An urgent cry left your mouth, then, and the force behind your shove grew stronger, pushing Sam away from you and making him lose his balance. He stumbled back a step or two before he caught himself again, glaring at you.

He pushed up his sleeves again and started to come at you, an evil sneer on his face.

"What's your fucking problem, bitch,” he spat and looked you up and down, stepping closer slowly.

“You dress like that, and then you turn into a prude when -"

He was cut off short when a fist met his jaw and threw him into the people surrounding you, a tooth and a spray of blood flying from his mouth. You looked at who had landed that blow, still unable to fully comprehend what had just happened.

To your right, there stood Bob, his mouth hanging open a bit and his eyes glowing a dangerous golden colour. You hadn't noticed him getting up from the bar and coming over, but you were deeply grateful for him doing so, scared of what would've happened if he hadn't stepped in.

When he realised what he'd done, he shook his head slightly, the blue returning to his eyes once more, and he got ready to fight. With his fists raised in front of his face, he waited for the other guy to get back up again.

“What do you want, you limp noodle of a man, huh? You just got lucky with that one, fella.” The other guy pointed at Bob before spitting blood onto the light-up dance floor and cracking his neck, walking up to Bob. When he was still a few steps from him, Bob threw another punch, this time with even more force behind it and knocking Sam right out. There was a dark air around him, blackness enveloping his fist and travelling up his arm right before your eyes.

“She told you to leave her alone, asshat,” the Void growled, his voice several shades darker than that of Bob.

Looking at the limp figure before him for a split second, the Void went back in, throwing punch after punch, the black hand glistening from what must have been even more blood. Scared of what he’d do to Sam, you tried pulling Bob off of him, whispering into his ear that it was enough and for him to come back to you.

“Bob, please. He’s down already”, you begged and finally got enough strength to drag him away. Cupping his face, you tried to get Bob to focus on you and the black started to recede from his arms, his bloody hand cradling your face in return. It took a moment for the blue to return to his eyes again, for his jaw to unclench and the deep frown to relax a little.

"Are you ok, [y/n]?” Bob’s voice had gotten softer, his eyes searching yours for any sign of lasting harm. 

"Yeah, I think I just need some fresh air," you murmured and held onto his shirt, your legs feeling like jell-o all of a sudden.

Bob wrapped a protective arm around your back when he felt you dip against his stature and pulled you closer, his eyes going to somewhere behind you. He gulped loudly and you looked over your shoulder at what he’d seen.

"You two!" The security guard pointed at you and Bob, and then motioned for you to get out of there.

"Congrats, you just earned yourself a no-return ticket out of this bar," the guard added, and Bob started sputtering, trying to argue about how Sam had started it, how he was just trying to protect you and that Sam should be the one getting kicked out of the bar instead. Picking up the bloody mess that the Void had turned Sam into, the security guard started for the door, looking over his shoulder as if waiting for us to follow him.

"Oh, don't worry, he's going with you!" The guard pushed Bob towards the back exit, Bob's shoulders slumping a little before making his way out of the group of onlookers, pulling you with him by the hand. You intertwined your fingers with his, trying not to lose him while pushing through the mass.

"Our friends are still inside," you tried when you got outside, but the security guard wouldn't have any of it, telling you 'life sucks' and 'better luck next time' while propping Sam up against the wall of the back alley. Without another word, he made for the back entrance before the door fell shut on him, and then disappeared into the turmoil inside the bar.

Looking around the dark alleyway, Bob scoffed before turning towards you, an angry look on his face.

"What a dick!"

You just shrugged your shoulders and felt tears well up in your eyes again, the shock of the situation wearing down and the fear taking over once more. When you tugged at his hand, Bob looked down, realising he was holding your hand, fingers intertwined, and let go before scratching the back of his head.

"Sorry, I didn't realise..."

He wiped his hands on his shirt, the blood staining the white shirt he was wearing under the flannel, and apologised again. When the first tears started to roll down your cheeks, a sob left your mouth and pulled his gaze back to you. His eyes widened in shock and his jaw went slack again, his brows knitting together in a regretful frown.

"Oh, no... I didn't mean to... [y/n], please don't cry..." He came up to you and cupped your cheeks, looking into your eyes deeply before wrapping his arms around you tightly. "I'm sorry... I just get really clammy hands whenever I feel... overwhelmed… And well, the blood and all…"

The embrace was warm, his arms feeling like a protective blanket wrapping around you, shielding you from any more harm. You sidled up to him, relishing in the comfort the hug offered against the cold air of night-time New York in early December. You stayed wrapped in his arms for a second, silent tears rolling down your cheeks while you tried to gather yourself, listening to the faint sound of his heart beating rapidly.

When you heard the groggy groans of the figure behind you, you tensed again and looked up at Bob, his face breaking further when he saw your tear-stained cheeks.

"Can you please get me out of here," you begged, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, and he nodded quickly before letting one arm fall down from its place around your frame and cupping your cheek.

"Yeah, sure. Just tell me where to," he affirmed, wiping away the latest tears with the pad of his thumb. When he realised that you were shivering, he shimmied out of his flannel, wrapping it around your shoulders and mumbling ‘here, this should keep you warm’ under his breath.

"Just take me home, please." You pulled the soft fabric around you tighter, the warm scent of cedarwood and vanilla mixed with his own warm smell enveloping your senses.

He nodded again and turned towards the exit of the alleyway, his right arm wrapping around your shoulder again while he led you towards the main street.

~~~

You guys spent the first few minutes of your walk in silence, not sure how to make conversation after what had happened.

That was until you were stood at a red light and Bob turned towards you, his arm having fallen from around you a few blocks ago.

"I'm sorry, I got us kicked out of the bar," he apologised and put his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, the uneasy look from earlier making its way back onto his face, knitting his eyebrows together and making him pull his bottom lip between his teeth.

"You really seemed to have a good time until that fucker turned up," Bob went on and you shrugged, the fun from earlier already a distant memory in the racing tornado of thoughts wreaking havoc in your mind.

"It was alright", your voice was low and you kicked at the burger wrapping left behind on the sidewalk, hoping you'd be able to boot the haunting images of past trauma away with it.

"Maybe it's stupid, but I kinda wanted to dance with you up there", Bob admitted, looking off towards the traffic light on the other side of the crossing. 

His fingers were mindlessly fidgeting with the brand label at the hem of his shirt, a nervous habit you had observed so often when you were around him. When his gaze met yours, the small smile playing on his lips sent butterflies to your stomach, a warmth you hadn't felt in ages rushing up your arms and down your back.

"You looked really beautiful, you know. In the lights, lost to the music. Like you were somewhere else entirely and you didn't have a care in the world", he added, a chuckle at the end of his sentence, and his eyes sparkled, reflecting the cool light of the headlights lining the street.

"I would have liked that", you admitted, offering him a warm smile in return before turning your attention to the changing traffic light indicating you were allowed to cross the street.

“You wouldn’t have enjoyed that for long though,” he replied, chuckling to himself again, before looking over to where you were walking by his side. “I am a really terrible dancer. Like… I’ve totally got two left feet. Just the thought makes me feel sorry for your toes.”

He struck a pose and wiggled his butt to imaginary music when he reached the sidewalk, looking over his shoulder at you with his bottom lip between his teeth and trying his best to look seductive.

This had you laughing loudly then, holding onto his arm for support and putting your head against his shoulder, your eyes closing in appreciation.

“Thank you! I really needed that right now, Bob,” you got out between laughs and grinned up at him, the butterflies in your stomach making you feel like you were 14 all over again.

“Always at your service, m’lady.” He bowed and winked at you before continuing his way down the street, pulling you with him by the hand.

~~~

“Ok, so, I’m gonna hop in the shower real quick, but how about we put on some music after and have that dance party”, you suggested, walking through the elevator doors and looking over your shoulder at Bob, who had an easy smile on his face, his cheek a healthy shade of pink from all the laughing.

He put his arms out and grabbed a hold of the lapelles of the flannel you were still wearing, pulling you back closer to him before wrapping his arms around your frame in a tight hug. You snuggled up to him, ignoring the bloody streaks on his shirt and buried your head against his chest.

“What’s that for,” you asked, looking up at him from under your lashes and trying to keep yourself from blushing at the softness in his eyes.

“I just felt like hugging you, that’s all,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “You looked so cuddly in the dim light, wrapped up in my flannel.”

The words left his mouth quietly, barely above a whisper and when he realised he’d said it aloud, his eyes grew wide, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in a thick gulp. After trying to find the right words to reply to this and coming up empty, you pushed up on your tiptoes and put a quick kiss on his cheek. Scared you took it too far, you wriggled out of the embrace and turned to the general direction of your bedroom, leaving Bob standing near the elevator, his fingers repeatedly running over the spot that you had just kissed, his eyes glued to where you had just stood and his mouth opening and closing rapidly.

“Remember, dance party in the living room in ten minutes,” you yelled over your shoulder and vanished in your bedroom.

~~~

You connected your phone to the speakers in the living room, sneaking up to Bob sitting on the couch and wrapped your arms around his neck, a giant grin playing at your lips.

“Ready to dance, Bob,” you whispered in his ear cheekily, drawing out his name and letting your hands run down his chest while your towel dried hair fell around you.

He grabbed your wrists and pulled you over the back of the couch swiftly, making you land with your head in his lap, his hand quickly moving to your hip to keep you from rolling off the couch.

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” he joked and pulled you up with him, his arm wrapped around you and letting his hand rest on the small of your back.

“Well, if you dance anything like what you showed me down on that street corner, I’m in for a hell of a time.” You pulled your phone from the pocket of the shorts you had gotten into after the shower and looked through your playlist for a good song to start with.

“Here, I think this will be a good one,” you mumbled, choosing ‘Me because of You’ by the Faim, and wiggled your eyebrows at him playfully, when the song started playing over the speakers.

 “Ok, I think I can work with this,” he said, nodding his head and moving the coffee table off to the side to make more room for us to have fun. He stretched his arms and cracked his neck, starting with a simple step-touch and moving his shoulders to the beat of the song.

You studied him for a second, suddenly a little scared of what he might think of you if you just let loose and have fun. He motioned for you to come closer and you followed his request, stepping closer and trying to keep from laughing, when he faked licking his pointer and pinky and smoothing his eyebrows over.

“Come on, you can’t hold back now, [y/n],” he yelled over the music and pulled me closer right when the song said ‘dance with me, feel the beat, follow my lead’. He placed your hands on his shoulders and then put his hands on your waist again, starting to waltz with you for a whole two seconds before both of you burst out laughing.

“You wanted to dance with me. So, dance, love,” he added and moved his body to the beat again.

“I’m nervous,” you confessed, running your hands over the clean shirt he put on while you were in the shower, and looked at him, biting your lip restlessly.

“Close your eyes and just imagine I’m not here. You’re alone in your room where no one can see you. And then do what you do,” he tried, brushing a strand of towel dried hair out of your face.

“If it helps, I can close my eyes, too,” he offered and put his hands over his eyes, peeking through his fingers.

“Fine,” you grumbled and moved away from him a little, turning your back on him but then looking back over your shoulder to make sure he had his eyes covered.

When you saw that he really wasn’t peeking, you started to move and smiled to yourself, feeling the music take over your body and jumping up and down giddily. After a few seconds, you started to sing along and moved freely, turning around and shimmying your shoulders and nodding your head.

“Are you doing it? Are you dancing,” he asked, still covering his eyes but moving his hips to the beat.

You peeled his hands from his eyes and pulled him into the middle of the carpet, making him stumble over his own feet. He opened one eye, looking at your dancing figure, and you tried to hide the smirk playing at your lips. He joined in with dancing and pursed his lips, concentrating on his moves so as not to stumble over his own feet again.

When the chorus started to play for the last time, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer again, and started swaying with you, his head on top of yours. He intertwined his fingers with yours and then moved away from you, extending his arms before stepping in again. He threw your arms over his shoulders and stepped past you before turning around quickly, to repeat this spiel another time, though instead of simply stepping past you, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, swaying from side to side.

Bob sang along to the words, his voice in your ear as his head dipped down a little and then he spun you around and caught you in his arms again more masterfully than he had led on to believe before.

“Tonight, I’ve changed, yeah. I’m only me because of you.” He put his cheek against yours and hummed happily, picking you up and twirling you around.

When the song had ended, he held you in place, your forehead resting against his. His gaze was moving back and forth between your eyes and your lips, his breath having grown a little shallow. You could feel his hand travel up your side and then caress your cheek, his face coming closer until you could feel his shallow breath on your lips, the tips of your noses just millimeters away from each other.

Expecting him to close the last bit of distance, you closed your eyes and turned your head upwards a little, your heart beating rapidly inside your chest. The moments until he finally put his lips to yours felt like an eternity, millions of thoughts running through your brain, the anticipation of what it’d feel like to kiss him raising goosebumps across your body. When he finally closed the distance and kissed you, his lips were soft, moving against yours slowly at first and then you deepened the kiss, moving your hand to the back of his head. Your other hand ran up his chest, feeling his pecs flex under your touch. 

When your teeth sank into his bottom lip, he let out a soft moan and you slipped your tongue into his mouth, exploring it carefully and moving your tongue in sync with his. His hand grabbed a fistful of your shirt and he moved you back over to the couch, letting you drop into his lap when the couch hit the back of his legs and he sat down.

You straddled him, your left arm wrapping around him to hold onto the backrest to keep you from falling into him, while your right hand ran through the hair at the back of his head, pulling on it softly, when one of his hands moved up the outside of your thigh to your hip.

He pulled away from you for a second, trying to catch his breath, his mouth hanging open a little while he searched your eyes for any sign of regret. When he couldn’t find any but instead realised that your mouth had split into a bright smile, he chuckled cheerfully and kissed you again hungrily.

With the kisses getting more and more heated, you started grinding into him, the aching need for feeling him closer growing in the pit of your stomach. When you rolled your hips a little extra hard, he groaned deeply and the grip of his hand on your hip grew stronger, a pleasant pain running up your spine and making you throw your head back.

His lips went to your neck, peppering hot, open-mouthed kisses on the soft skin and then he started sucking on the pulse point underneath your ear, biting and licking and driving you into overdrive. The fingers buried in his hair pulled on his locks and his growing bulge started to rub up against you just the right way when he bucked his hips in response.

“We… should probably…”, he started in between kisses and you nodded mindlessly, trying to get as much friction from grinding down into him harder. 

“Fuck, [y/n], ok, wait…” He stopped you from moving your hips by wrapping his arm around you and pulling you impossibly close, and then made you look him in the eyes before going on: “I can’t do it like this… If I have you, I want all of you.”

You gulped at this, realising he wasn’t joking and felt your jaw go slack.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, but I will not let this be how I have you for the first time.” His thumb caressed your cheek and he kissed you softly, his forehead falling to yours, probably fighting the urge to just have you right then and there.

“Then take me to your room, Bob,” you mumbled breathlessly when he pulled away again, nuzzling your face with his in a love-drunken state. You placed soft kisses all over his face, earning a little chuckle from him, when you moved down to his neck, his head falling back to give you more room to work with.

“[y/n], god, you drive me crazy,” he moaned and let his hands slip underneath your shirt, sending shivers down your spine from the tiny sparks his touch left on your skin. Letting out a ‘mh-hm’ in response, you ran your thumb over his bottom lip and kissed him again, your tongue slipping into his mouth easily.

His hands went down your back and held onto your ass when he picked you up in one smooth motion, your legs wrapping around his hips to gain more stability. Your arms snaked around his neck and a chuckle escaped your mouth when he stumbled over the couch on his way out of the living room, holding you in space with one arm while he steadied himself.

“How about we stop kissing until we’re actually in your bedroom,” you joked and he nodded, telling you ‘that’s a good idea’ before making his way over to his bedroom, his steps quick and assertive.

“Wait, we still have to turn off the music,” you realised when you were halfway down the hallway and Bob stopped dead in his tracks, sighing heavily. He looked back over his shoulder and you could see the cogs work behind his eyes, trying to decide what to do.

“Ok, you go turn off the music and I’ll get everything ready?”

Setting you down on the floor, he pecked your lips and then slapped your ass, making you jump a little and hurry back to the living room. You made quick work of turning off the music and grabbing your phone, eager to get back to Bob and what you were doing, running back down the hallway to where his bedroom was. Sliding in through the door, you stopped when you saw that Bob was on the phone with someone, holding up a finger to you just as you wanted to ask what was wrong.

“Oh, no, y’all can stay out longer. No… No. [y/n] wasn’t feeling too hot, so I took her home.” He looked at the floor for a second, scratching his head while trying to understand Yelena over the thumping music on the other side of the line. “I think she’s sleeping already. No… I don’t think she’ll mind! Go have fun, you guys,” he added and then ended the call after telling Yelena goodbye.

“Is everything ok,” you enquired, walking up to him and putting your phone on his desk, the screen lighting up and showing you had a couple of missed calls from Yelena and Ava. He matched you and put his phone down next to yours, before turning back to you and searching your face for a second.

“Yeah, they were just worried where we went and because they couldn’t reach us earlier.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer and brushing the hair from the slope of your neck, adding a ‘so, where were we’ before running his fingers over the soft skin under your chin.

“Are they coming back already?” You asked, your head falling back when Bob started to kiss your neck.

“No, there’s this party at another bar they wanna check out.” He bit your neck playfully and then nuzzled the side of your face, telling you that the two of you should be in the clear for the next few hours. He picked you up again and walked over to his bed, dropping you in the middle of the mattress before climbing onto the mattress and kneeling down between your legs.

“Next few hours? What do you have planned,” you asked cheekily, your hands working on taking off his shirt.

“I’m gonna take my time with you, love,” he replied, helping you to get him out of his shirt and kissing you passionately.

Your fingertips ran over his abs and up into his hair again and you pulled him down with you, moaning when his hips settled between yours like puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly.

“God, you sound so good when you moan,” he whined desperately, his hand caressing your cheek and then running through your hair. “You sound so much better than I could ever imagine.”

“You imagined how I’d sound?” Your voice was barely a whisper, too much anticipation and desire clouding your brain already. The building tension in your core was painful at this point and you could feel your arousal gathering between your legs.

“More often than I’d like to admit, yes.” His kisses were growing hungrier with every passing second, his hands running down your sides, pulling at the fabric of your shirt and digging into the bare skin of your legs. He wanted to feel your skin and memorise every inch of it, having wanted to touch you for months now.

“What did you picture,” you asked, flipping you over and straddling his hips again, pulling your shirt over your head and grinding your hips into his rhythmically. His eyes were wandering over your torso, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip before he sat up and wrapped his arms around you to work on undoing your bra. When he’d opened the clasp in the back, he slipped the straps down your shoulders, kissing the freckles that dusted your skin there.

“The way you’d sound… How you’d taste…” He pulled your face closer, his fingers on your chin, and placed his lips on yours again, this time slow and deep. His other hand came up to your right breast and cupped it, running his thumb over your nipple hardening from the relative cold in the room. “How you’d look taking me. The way your face breaks when I make you cum…”

He bucked his hips, his clothed erection pushing up into your clit and you gasped, running your fingernails over his abs, your head falling forwards to rest on his shoulder. You moved your hips with his, the layered fabric of your shorts and panties rubbing up against your core with every thrust of his hips. It had been a while since you last were intimate with someone, so you could already feel the knot in your lower stomach begin to tighten, your breath hitching when Bob’s tongue licked over your sensitive nipple before taking your breast into his mouth.

Your hand travelled further south and you lifted your hips, dipping your fingers into the waistband of his joggers, realising he wasn’t wearing any boxers underneath when you made contact with his hot skin. Trying to meet his eyes, you lifted your eyebrows in surprise and he shrugged, letting go of your breast with a popping sound.

“Hey, a guy can hope, right,” he tried to defend himself and smirked at you, when you pushed him down onto the mattress, while your other hand slipped into his joggers fully and wrapped around his hard length. He was bigger than you’d imagined, thicker too, and at the thought of having him inside of you, your pussy started to ache deliciously and eager.

You pumped your hand up his length slowly and his eyes rolled up into his head, his jaw hanging open slightly, a string of curses and whines leaving his mouth. Seeing him enjoy your touch this much, sent you into overdrive, and you moved off his legs, pulling down his joggers with you, before throwing them to the other corner of his room. His erection sprang free and you took in the sight before you, Bob leaning on his elbows, completely naked and looking sexier than you ever dreamt up.

Running your hands through your hair, you felt your cheeks heat up and hid your face in your hands, chuckling to yourself for a second.

“What? [y/n], what’s wrong? Did I do something wrong,” he asked, worry evident in his voice while he moved to sit up a little, his hands on your shoulders.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” you started and took a deep breath, letting your hands fall from your face and meeting his eyes. “It’s just been a while and I… Well, I didn’t think I’d ever end up in this situation,” you added, your eyes darting over the smile lines appearing around his eyes and the dimple in his right cheek. “I think, it just hit me that this is happening, you know?”

He nodded, understanding you perfectly well, his thumb caressing your cheek before he kissed you. His arms wrapped around your shoulders and he laid you down gently, settling between your legs. You deepened the kiss, running your left hand through his dark locks while your right hand travelled down his back and settled on his hips. You wrapped one of your legs around his hip and smiled into the kiss, enjoying the feeling of his skin on your own.

“Like I said, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. And we can take our time, there’s no rush. Not tonight,” he murmured against your lips, his forehead resting on yours between soft kisses.

“I want you, Bob,” you whispered, searching his eyes, the blue of them having darkened by lust. “I want all of you.”

His face split into a bright grin and he let his head fall to the crook of your neck, hiding his own nervousness by peppering your skin with kisses again. His left hand moved down your side and to the leg wrapped around his hip as he angled his hip a little, his erection brushing up against your core again. You moaned softly and tried to meet him better, your leg snaking around him more tightly.

“If we’re really gonna do this, then we’re gonna do this right,” Bob said, his voice darker than before and sending shivers down your spine.

He pulled away from you, his fingertips moving to the waistband of your shorts and he pulled them down your legs, your panties coming off with them. Bob tossed them over to where his joggers had landed and spread your legs slowly, taking you in and biting on his bottom lip, his eyes sparkling in the dim light from his bedside lamp. He let his fingers dance over the inside of your legs, drawing loose shapes on your skin from your ankles up to your hips and then grabbed one of his pillows from above your head. You lifted your hips and he put the pillow under your ass, settling between your legs and looking at you intently from under his lashes.

“You sure you wanna do this? You can say no or stop me at any time,” he assured you and you nodded, biting down on the knuckle of your index finger in anticipation, butterflies making somersaults in your tummy. He lowered his head and blew on you, earning himself a low whimper from you, the air feeling cold against your wet pussy. He ran a finger up between your folds and chuckled, sending vibrations through your core from how close his mouth was to your center.

“God, you’re already so wet and I haven’t even done anything.”

His finger slipped into your vagina with ease and the squelching sound that was heard by him pulling it out again, made the blush on your cheeks deepen. He pushed his finger back in and then curled it, making you moan his name loudly as he brushed your g-spot. He repeated this a couple of times while his tongue ran along the outside of your folds, slowly making its way inwards. When he finally ran the tip of his tongue up your folds and flicked your clit, your hips bucked, another moan falling from your lips, having him hum in response.

“You taste so good, babe.” He lapped at you and then slowed down again, the tip of his tongue circling your clit and then flicking it with a masterful tab, sending sparks up your spine and making your toes curl. Your fingers buried into his locks again and you pulled on them, pulling him closer in an attempt to get even more friction.

“Mhm, do you like that,” he asked, meeting your gaze and smirking cheekily.

“Yeah, feels good, Bob,” you moaned, your head falling back down and your eyes rolling back when he removed his finger from your hole and circled your pussy with the tip of his tongue. Then, he added another finger up, running them through your folds and back down towards your vagina before thrusting them in, this time a little more forcefully.

You yelped in surprise and pulled on his hair, your legs going a little numb. He waited to move his fingers for a second, looking down at how his fingers had disappeared in you completely and then pulled them back out a bit, curling the same way he did before, brushing over your g-spot again. When he’d found a good rhythm that had you breathing heavily, the knot tightening in your stomach, he put his mouth on you again and pushed you over the edge, your toes curling while your legs tensed around his head. One of your hands left his head to move to the bedsheets, gripping it hard as pleasure rushed over your body like a tidal wave.

“Fuck, Bob, you feel so good.”

You were writhing under him, Bob relentlessly licking up your juices while you clawed at his shoulders and rode the highs of the orgasm coursing through your body. The wet noises of his fingers pumping in and out of you filled your ears and you felt another wave of the orgasm rain down on you when his teeth scraped over your sensitive nub before flicking it again with his tongue. You could feel your walls clamp down around his fingers and then heard him chuckle deeply, before his arm pushed down on your hips, keeping you in place.

He kept at it, fingering you and eating you out, only coming up from between your legs when you started to come down from the high, your breath still rushed and shallow. You ran your hand through your hair, and looked at him, moving up your body, his lips glistening from your arousal and his spit mixed together. He put his fingers into his mouth and sucked your juices off of them, closing his eyes in ecstasy and the corners of his mouth pulling up in a smile, after he pulled his fingers out again.

“God, that was so hot,” he breathed, putting his lips to yours and kissing you hungrily. You nodded, deepening the kiss by slipping your tongue into his mouth and tasting yourself on his tongue. Your hand ran down his torso and wrapped around his length again, your thumb wiping over his tip and feeling the sticky precum leaking out of him. With your brain still hazy from your recent orgasm, you pushed him down onto the mattress and started peppering kisses on his neck, moving down to his clavicle and his chest, the nails of your free hands scratching over his chest, while the other one pumped his length slowly.

When you were on the same level with his dick, you looked up at him and opened your mouth, taking him in as far as you could, your hand still wrapped around the part of him that didn’t fit into your mouth anymore. You started bobbing your head up and down his length and his fingers ran through your hair, his hand cupping the back of your head and aiding you in keeping an enjoyable rhythm, while whines and moans fell from his lips.

“Oh, fuck. You’re better than I ever imagined,” he whined, his hips bucking and his dick hit the back of your throat. 

Your eyes travelled back up his figure and you opened your mouth a little further, trying to take more of him. Tears were brimming at the corners of your eyes and your own arousal started running down the inside of your leg, so you moved your free hand to your clit, rubbing yourself while sucking him off.

After a couple more bobs of your head, Bob groaned loudly, his hips tensing and his grip on your hair getting harder. His cum spilled onto your tongue and you swallowed it, humming in enjoyment, while continuing the motion of your hand pumping up and down his length. Feeling another orgasm approaching from your own fingers between your legs, you moaned, some residual cum of his running out the corner of your mouth and dripping on his length.

Biting down on your lips, you looked up at him, his mouth hanging open at the sight of you pleasuring yourself. He motioned for you to come closer, pushing your hand away from between your legs to take over while pulling you into his lap again. You rested your head against his shoulder, while his fingers were drawing circles around your clit, pushing you ever closer to the edge. You could feel that you were getting overstimulated already and whined, wanting to get the release you so desperately needed. Pulling his lips to yours and kissing him hungrily, you moved your hips a little to meet his touch, his fingers slipping into you once more while the pad of thumb brushed up against your clitoris.

“Bob, don’t stop. Please, I’m so close,” you whined, your face falling at the pressure building in your core.

“Come on, baby. Come for me,” he whispered into your ear and nibbled on your earlobe, thrusting his fingers into you deeper and curling them on their way out.

Feeling his tongue lick over your pulse point was enough to make you fall over the edge again, his fingers brushing your g-spot again and again, sparks flying between your bodies. Your nails dug into his back and you rode his fingers, moaning his name at the top of your lungs.

“God, I love it when you moan my name like that.” 

He put you back down on the mattress, knowing you’d need the support of the bed beneath you, your legs having turned to jelly and shaking from all of the stimulation. Your chest was rising and falling quickly while you tried to catch your breath, absolutely exhausted from two big orgasms so close together.

“Do you need a little break,” he asked, laying down next to you and running his fingers up and down your sides. You turned your head toward his and the look on his face was so soft, caring and full of love, making your heart ache at being the object of his adoration. You nodded, still unable to form words, the last after waves of your orgasm having your ears ringing and your fingertips feeling numb.

Bob pulled you a little closer, wiping the beads of sweat from your forehead, and placed soft kisses all over your face, telling you how beautiful you were. How lucky he was to be here with you at that moment. How he never thought this would actually happen.

“You know, I thought you didn’t like me,” you told him, your voice still barely a whisper, your fingers starting to draw circles on his chest while his fingertips did the same on your shoulder blade. “That you didn’t want to spend time with me when the others were gone because you secretly hated me.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever liked anyone as much as I like you,” he said softly, his hand cupping your face and making you look at him, before going on: “I’m sorry that I made you feel like I hated you, but it is clearly the very opposite.”

He kissed you then, softly and with all the love he felt for you. Your lips melted against his and a warmth spread in your chest, creeping up the back of your neck and rolling over your legs and into your tiptoes. This kiss was different, it wasn’t hungry or desperate but still intense in its own way. Even after everything the two of you just did, you felt closer to Bob now, his arms wrapping around you tighter and flipping you on your back again, your legs intertwined lazily and his broad chest like a shield keeping you safe.

You stayed like that for a little while then, making out and exploring each other’s body slowly, your touch soft and meaningful, as if you wanted to memorise every inch of the other’s figure. You couldn’t say how long you were just lying there, enjoying each other’s presence and forgetting everything around you. It could’ve been five minutes or it could’ve been an hour but it didn’t matter to you because you were right where you wanted to be. Wrapped in his arms, having his lips on yours and feeling his delicate touch on your body.

His lips ran over your shoulders, dusting the freckles with love, while your lips grazed his collarbone, your fingers gripping his ass cheeks and earning you a high pitched giggle from him.

“Are you ticklish,” you enquired, a cheeky smirk on your lips and he shook his head vigorously, trying to push your hands off of him.

“No, of course I’m not ticklish. What makes you think that?” He rolled his eyes and tried to put a little distance between you two, his hands swatting at you trying to poke his sides.

“I don’t know. That very manly giggle that just slipped past your lips, maybe,” you teased and his jaw dropped, so threw yourself at him playfully, making him lose his balance and taking you down with him.

“I don’t know what you're talking about. What giggle?” He grinned up at you and cupped your cheek, pulling you down to him and kissing you again passionately.

With your leg thrown over his hip, you could feel him getting hard again and you moved your hips, straddling him once more. You purred softly at his length pressing up against your folds and instinctively grinded down on him, coating the underside of his dick in your arousal. Bob’s hand gripped your hip and he stopped you from moving for a second.

“Wait, I’ve got condoms in the drawer over there,” he murmured, motioning to his bedside table, and his voice broke when you rolled your hips into his again.

“I’m on the pill, so,” you started, kissing him quickly and then added: “I’m good either way.”

He looked at you and for a second, his brows knitted together in a frown. He let his thumb run over your bottom lip and you stopped moving, lifting your hips a little before leaning over to his bedside table.

“I just wanna make sure nothing unexpected happens, you know,” he started to explain and you looked over your shoulder, opening the drawer slowly.

“Bob, hey. It’s ok, really!” Your hand looked for the packet of condoms and took one out when you found it, before turning back to him. “I’m glad you wanna be safe, love.” You cupped his cheek and smiled at him, placing a quick kiss on his lips. 

You opened the shiny packaging and took out the condom, turning it over in your fingers to have it the right way around. Pinching the tip of it, you looked at Bob and asked him if he was ready. When he nodded, inching closer to you, you grabbed his length and put the condom on, pushing the rubbery material down his length easily. His hand came up to caress your cheek and he kissed you softly, his fingers burying in the hair at the back of your head while you climbed onto him, straddling his hips again.

With your hand still wrapped around his length, you guided his dick along your folds and then lowered onto it, moaning at the burning sensation of his thickness stretching you slowly. Bob’s jaw dropped and he groaned at slipping into you, his teeth digging into your bottom lip. You stayed there for a second, trying to adjust to the feeling of him filling you up so well and held onto his shoulders before you lifted your hips again slowly. The delicious pain of his size slipping in and out of you made your brain go foggy and you sank down onto him with more ease this time. Picking up the pace, you threw your head back and rode Bob’s dick, his right hand on your breast, kneading the tissue while his tongue worked on the nipple of your other breast. His left hand was on your hip, guiding you as you took him.

“Mhm, you fill me up so well, Bob,” you mused and bounced on him, the pain having turned to pleasure a few thrusts ago. His mouth let go of your breast and he pulled your face down, kissing you hungrily and he bucked his hips into yours and slipping in deeper with the next thrust, bottoming out. You moaned into his mouth loudly and let a giggle fall over your lips as you noticed the familiar feeling of your orgasm nearing.

He stopped moving for a second and turned you around, so you were beneath him and then he grabbed your right leg and moved it from around his hips to have it over his shoulder instead, changing the angle at which he thrusted into you.

Bob groaned against your mouth as he bottomed out again, his balls slapping against your ass with the next thrust and you let out a moan of his name, your nails digging into his back.

“Ugh, you’re so tight, babe. Feel so good,” he slurred and went to town on you, thrusting in and pulling back out, his bed groaning under his movements.

“You gotta tell me if I’m too rough,” he whispered into your ear, enveloping you with his form and leaning on his elbow while his other hand held onto your leg.

“No, it’s good. So good, Bob,” you assured, relishing in the feeling of him filling you up to the brim and stretching you with every thrust. You knew that you were close again, the knot twisting and tightening and you reached between your bodies, your fingers working on your clit while his dick slipped in and out of you at an exquisite pace.

He looked down at where your bodies met and whined, his forehead falling to yours. The sound of skin hitting skin filled the room and you were glad that the rest of the team was still out, fearing just how much they would’ve been able to hear of what you two were doing.

“[y/n], fuck, you feel so good. I don’t know how much longer I can…” The movement of his hips got a little sloppy and you kissed him again, steadying him with a hand on his ass while you tried to meet his thrusts with your hip.

“It’s ok, babe. Come, Bob. I’m right behind you,” you purred into his ear and his hips stuttered, a low groan falling from his lips. You moved your hips, helping him ride out his orgasm and kissed his closed lids, when he suddenly thrusted into you harder again, pushing you closer and over the edge.

You fell with him, your third orgasm of the night sending lighting through your whole body. You clung to his body, biting into his shoulder and scratching your nails over his back, earning a wince from him at the pain that seemed to send him into a flurry. Your walls clenched around him as your orgasm progressed and he put his lips on your neck, riding out your shared orgasm, his breathing quick and shallow.

When he came down from his high, he sighed, an exhausted but gratified look on his face, and laid down next to you. You curled up to him, throwing your arm over his chest and putting your head on his chest, listening to the rapid beating of his heart and his quick breath.

“Did I hurt you?” The question came suddenly and you looked at him, confused at where the concern was coming from.

“Why are you asking?”

“This was my first time since the medical trial,” he started and turned onto his side, wrapping his arm around your hip.

“No, you didn’t hurt me, Bob. Quite the opposite, actually.” You caressed his cheek and kissed him softly, before adding: “I enjoyed it very much, if you couldn’t tell.”

A proud smile pushed up the corners of his mouth and he shook his head, chuckling lightheaded.

“God, you’re an incredible woman, [y/n].”

[suiana]

yandere! mimic and reader who does NOT give a shit. you've seen them on tiktok, seen how they copy people's voices and use it to do some freaky shit.

you just never expected it to happen to you.

"come over. come over. come over."

unfortunately this mimic copied YOUR voice. and what? you're expected to be scared of it?? scared of your voice???

fuck no.

you know you're not supposed to respond, not supposed to acknowledge them at all. but how can you not when your voice is literally coming from behind that door??

also have i mentioned that it's been weeks? yes, weeks since you started hearing your own voice ask for you to acknowledge it. what the hell is this mimic doing?

today you've finally had enough.

"bro if you're gonna use my voice that's fine. but at least pay rent if you're staying in my house."

a beat.

"𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮."

"excuse me?"

um... what the hell just happened? did this... entity literally tell you... fuck you???

you... can't believe you're about to start beefing with something that could ruin your life in seconds. but it must be done. so you decide to square up... in your bed. yes, you've adopted the optimal position to get back at this thing. that is to lay on your side while hugging your plushie with one leg propped up.

"okay rude, no fuck you."

"𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮."

"fuck YOU."

"𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞."

"what?"

okay erm... well at least you know this thing isn't going to kill you now..? nevermind, you think you'd rather have that because why do you feel an ominous presence nearing your bedroom? uh... ahaha...

"𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞."

there, in front of you, is a near identical version of yourself staring down at you with the freakiest expression you could ever think of. in the same voice, it's asking you to fuck it. everything down to the smallest details is the same. the curve of your cheek, the messy hair... wait you lowkey look kind of good...?

is this... selfcest?

"you know i lowkey wanna try fucking myself..."

"𝐨𝐡…"

and then the picture of beauty is washed away by some ghostly looking man that does NOT seem pleased with your answer. okay, maybe if he didn't talk with times new roman font size 12 you wouldn't give a shit.

"𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝."

"bro you were asking to be fucked by me wdym scared"

"𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄."

and now he's... thrashing your room??? wtf dude at least pay rent first???

"𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞! 𝐧𝐨𝐭… 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬! 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞!"

"boy if you don't stop making my room messy i'll do more than just fuck my reflection."

that gets his attention. he pauses, eyes wide before he lets out a growl. woah boy! you roll your eyes at him, rolling onto your other side for maximum comfort.

"if you wanted me to fall for you, you should've chose a different form man. weirdo."

and then you start gooning everywhere #massivedih #dontneedamantogoon

[sixeyesonathiel]

call it first aid

pairing — underground boxer satoru x nurse reader

satoru gojo wins every fight under the lights—but somehow, he only ever shows up bruised and smirking at your door when he wants to lose. between your fussing fingers and his maddening grin, ointment turns into foreplay, tension coils tight, and soon enough, it’s the mattress doing all the talking while you forget who was supposed to be in control. wc — 2.3k

it starts with you threatening to break his nose.

not because of the bruises sprawled across his ribs or the split above his brow—but because he’s done it again. shown up unannounced, all bloodied and beaming, like a living, breathing disaster movie premiering in your damn hallway. your floor’s probably stained with his blood at this point, and he doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

"you have got to be the dumbest man alive," you snap, looming over him with a cotton pad soaked in antiseptic, knuckles tight with irritation. your fingers are steady, precise—years of nursing instinct—but your tone drips venom. "are you trying to die, or do you just like making my life a waking nightmare?"

satoru, infuriatingly unfazed, just grins. there’s a glint in his eyes—mischievous and stupidly fond—and the bruises blooming along his cheekbone only seem to accentuate it. he looks like he lost a bar brawl and liked it. silver hair damp, curling at the tips, streaked with red from the cut at his temple. his chest rises with slow, deliberate breaths, still flushed from exertion. the corner of his mouth twitches with every inhale, like he’s holding back another wisecrack.

“third option,” he says, fingers drumming along the mattress edge. his hand twitches between taps—restless, like he’s got something to say but would rather tease. “maybe i just like seeing you like this. bossy, scowling. real cute when you’re mad.”

“bite me,” you snap.

“maybe after i’m done being a good patient.”

“you are two seconds away from a lobotomy,” you grit out, brushing a thumb beneath the fresh gash. he winces, but the grin doesn’t budge.

“ooh. medical threats. my favorite.”

his grin stretches wider when you swat at his arm. not that hard, but enough to show you’re done playing nice. he lets out an exaggerated gasp and collapses back against the bed like you’ve just shot him point-blank. his legs flop dramatically over the edge, socks half-on and mismatched.

"abuse," he groans, throwing an arm over his eyes. “unbelievable. and after everything i’ve suffered.”

“what you’ve suffered,” you mutter, leaning in to clean the gash on his forehead. “you mean the injuries you got for fun?”

his voice is muffled by his arm. “for glory.”

“for attention.”

he peeks at you from under his lashes, pout dramatic. “maybe i just missed you.”

your hands pause. just a beat. then, you're back to dabbing, more aggressive than before. he hisses.

“good,” you say, clearly unapologetic. “serves you right.”

his fingers brush against your knee absentmindedly, tracing lazy circles against the fabric of your scrub pants. when you glance down, he’s watching you. less teasing now. a little softer. it makes your throat tighten.

"you’re staring," you murmur without looking up.

“yeah,” he breathes. “you’re hot when you’re mad.”

“i’m always mad when you’re around.”

“lucky me, then.”

you roll your eyes, shoving at his shoulder, but he catches your wrist halfway. the movement is fluid, instinctual—like muscle memory. your breath stutters just as he tugs, and you’re off-balance, toppling with a startled yelp.

“satoru, don’t you—!”

but you’re already falling, dragged into the mess of rumpled sheets and warm skin. he flips you with ease, laughing low in his chest, pinning you underneath him. your wrists are caught above your head in one of his large hands, his body caging yours like he’s done this a hundred times—and he has.

his grin is boyish, smug, the corners of his lips twitching, but there’s a flicker of focus in his eyes. the kind that knows every inch of you—every twitch of your lip, every breath you draw in before you mouth off. strands of white-silver hair fall into his eyes, glinting under the yellow bedroom light. his lashes flutter slightly as he leans in, nose nearly brushing yours.

“you done playing rough?”

“not even close,” you growl, twisting beneath him.

your thighs lock around his hips and you try to throw him off with a sharp jerk of your body—but he moves with you, shifting his weight, pressing down harder. he’s annoyingly strong, and way too comfortable like this. his breath fans across your cheek, warm and uneven. there’s a bead of sweat that trails from his temple down the curve of his jaw.

“fuck you,” you snarl.

“mmm,” he hums, eyes dropping to your lips, “later.”

his grip tightens slightly when you squirm again, testing his hold. your glare falters when his voice drops, low and teasing, with something hotter simmering just beneath it. “careful,” he warns, mock-gentle. “keep moving like that and i’m gonna think you like being under me.”

you flush, jaw tightening. “let go.”

he tilts his head. “say please.”

“drop dead.”

“already did. in love with you.”

that shuts you up. your scowl weakens, but your eyes are still fierce. your breathing is shallow now, and his is starting to match it, both of you caught somewhere between playful and perilous.

he leans in, nose brushing against your cheek, and whispers against your jaw, “you gonna take responsibility for roughing me up, pretty girl?”

his voice is low and rough around the edges, but his hand—resting beside your head—trembles just slightly. he’s holding back. always does with you. you can feel it in the way he’s hovering, not quite pressing down all the way, in the tension coiled in his back and the unspoken question in his eyes.

you want to snark something back. tell him off. but your words crumble, dissolve somewhere between the brush of his lips against your pulse and the way he’s looking at you like he’d bleed all over your floors a thousand times if it meant ending up right here.

his hips shift subtly, slotting neatly between your thighs. his cock presses against your core, hot and insistent through the layers of your clothes. he breathes through his nose sharply, jaw flexing as if trying to focus on anything else.

you squirm, expression twitching between indignation and something more vulnerable. your glare falters, lips parting. “satoru—!”

“what?” he murmurs, lashes fluttering, lower lip jutting in mock hurt. his eyes flicker to your mouth, and he swallows thickly. “you started it.”

you want to argue, really, but your retort fizzles when his mouth skims along your jaw. his breath ghosts hot against your cheek, uneven, and when his teeth scrape your neck, your lashes flutter, breath hitching as he whispers, “you gonna take responsibility for roughing me up, pretty girl?”

you’re about to say something smart—really—but his free hand’s already pushing up your nightdress, fingers grazing the damp lace of your panties before tugging them aside. suddenly your thoughts are gone, completely, as he drags the tip of his cock along your slick slit, teasing, lazy, grinning, smearing your arousal over his swollen head.

“still mad at me, nurse?” he murmurs, voice hoarse from the fight. “’cause i think i deserve a little reward for winning.”

“winning?” you snap, trying to sound angry, but your thighs are already trembling around his hips. “you came back with your eyebrow split open.”

“and you’re here,” he says, pinning your wrists again above your head like it’s nothing. “patching me up. touching me so sweet. kinda seems like i won, baby.”

you open your mouth to argue—but his cock’s already pressing between your folds, fat and heavy and searingly warm against your dripping cunt. it drags up your slit slow, deliberate, reverent—like he’s savoring every millimeter, like he knows exactly what he’s about to do to you. the head of him nudges your clit on the way up, sending a jolt through your hips, slick coating his shaft. your breath stutters. your back arches, toes curling. your eyes flutter shut, lashes trembling on your cheeks—

until his hand snaps around your jaw.

“uh-uh,” he murmurs, low and hot against your lips, thumb pressing into your cheek, pinky grazing your pulse. his breath brushes your skin like heat rising off pavement. “eyes on me. want you to watch when i split your tight pussy open.”

your lashes flicker. your pupils bloom wide. you open your eyes, dazed, heart hammering. he’s right there—so close you can count each pale lash stuck to his damp cheekbone. his gaze is locked on yours—ice blue turned pitch at the edges, pupils blown wide with hunger, reverence, need. you nod, slow, shaky.

then he pushes in.

you choke on a gasp. your entire body goes taut, back snapping into a high arch, thighs tensing around his waist. the stretch burns—hot and overwhelming, his thick cock forcing your walls to yield with a wet squelch. your cunt flutters, straining to take him. he’s thick. too thick. your heels dig into the mattress. his groan rumbles through his chest, lips parted, sweat beading at his temples. he bows his head, snow-white hair clinging to his forehead in damp, messy strands.

“shit,” he breathes, voice strained. his hips roll forward in small, careful thrusts, giving you time. his hands tighten around your wrists, knuckles pale. his lashes flutter, eyes half-lidded and glassy. your body squirms involuntarily under him, searching for relief, unable to speak—only soft, helpless whimpers fall from your lips.

“you feel that, baby?” he whispers, voice gone rough, as his forehead tips to yours. “feel how fuckin’ deep i am in your soaked little cunt?”

his thumb strokes over your temple, soothing, gentle. his lips brush the corner of your mouth, soft and warm, completely at odds with the way he’s stretching your pulsing pussy. he watches every twitch in your expression, every breath caught between your teeth.

“so pretty like this,” he murmurs, hoarse and reverent. “all folded up. all mine.”

“n-no—” you gasp, though your legs lock around him like chains. “i’m—still mad at you—”

the corner of his mouth ticks up, smug and wicked.

“yeah?” he says—then slams into you. your cry is strangled. the bed rocks beneath you. your spine bows off the mattress, fingers spasming in his grip. he pulls back, and does it again. harder.

“you sure?” he pants, voice thick with amusement. sweat glistens down his chest. his grin is feral now, wild and flashing. his hips snap forward, sharp and deep, punching the air from your lungs.

he finds a rhythm—brutal, perfect. each thrust hits deep, rocking through your core, dragging moans and hiccups from your lips. the headboard slams against the wall in time with his pace, and the room fills with the obscene sound of slick skin on skin, your wet pussy smacking around his cock.

you try to speak—really, you do—but each attempt shatters into whimpers. your back arches. your arms tremble in his hold. he watches you like he’s starving, like each flicker of your lashes feeds something primal inside him.

his hand leaves your wrist to grab your thigh, folding it tight against your chest. the new angle punches a cry from your throat—high, breathless. he groans, jaw flexing, as he slams in harder, his cockhead kissing your cervix.

“such a fuckin’ mess down here,” he growls, gaze devouring your face. “and we’re just getting started.”

it builds too fast. the tension in your belly coils tight, electricity crawling up your spine. you clamp down, thighs locking around him, whole body curling into the sensation—

and then it crashes. your orgasm hits like a riptide. your body convulses, thighs shaking, mouth falling open in a silent scream. your cunt milks him, spasming, wetness gushing around his cock in hot, sticky spurts. your toes curl. your vision goes white.

“fuck, there she is,” he moans, forehead pressing into yours, breath catching. “knew you were close. knew you’d break so sweet.”

but he doesn’t stop. doesn’t even slow. he wraps an arm under your back, hauling you closer. your cheek brushes his shoulder, nose buried against the salty curve of his neck. the other hand slips between you—his fingers find your clit, cruel and skilled, circling hard and fast over your swollen bud.

“one more,” he growls, panting. “gimme one more, baby. i know you can.”

you sob, shaking your head—your body says otherwise. your hips buck. your back bows again. tears spill down your temples, pooling into your hair. you’re babbling now, incoherent and trembling.

he drives into you harder. your body rocks with every thrust, pushed to the edge. every nerve screams. you can’t breathe. can’t think.

then the second orgasm hits—sharper, meaner. your thighs quake. your mouth drops open with a strangled wail as your body clenches around him. wetness splashes between you, drenching your thighs, his stomach, the sheets. you’re squirting—legs spasming, muscles seizing. your hands claw uselessly at the air.

he stills, stunned. “ohhh fuck,” he breathes, staring down at the slick mess between you. “you—baby—look at you. ruined. holy shit.”

your chest heaves, throat raw. your eyes are unfocused, lashes wet. every inch of you trembles, spent—but he’s not done.

he dips his head, tongue dragging up your throat. then he bites—a soft, possessive nip over your pulse point. his hands drag down your body, mapping every inch, claiming every curve. he thrusts through your aftershocks, slow but relentless, cock still hard in your pulsing cunt.

“gonna cum inside,” he groans, nearly slurring. “gonna fill your tight pussy up. fuck, baby, you want that, huh? want me to breed you? make you mine?”

you nod—no, sob, a desperate sound wrenched from deep in your chest. your nails scrape his shoulders weakly. he thrusts again, deep, punishing—

he cums with a broken groan. his hips stutter. his body locks above you, trembling. he buries himself to the hilt, twitching inside you as he spills hot, thick ropes deep into your womb.

his body slumps. his head drops to your shoulder. his breath fans over your damp skin in hot, uneven waves. his hair clings to your collarbone, soaked. inside you, he’s still pulsing, still impossibly thick.

he kisses your cheek—once, twice. barely there. “...still mad at me?”

you don’t answer. can’t. your mouth opens, lips trembling, but no sound comes out. your thighs twitch, stomach muscles fluttering.

his hand drifts between your legs, fingers brushing over your soaked, cum-slick slit. your hips jolt, breath catching. he laughs quietly against your skin.

“thought so,” he whispers, voice still rough. “good thing i’ve got stamina to spare.”

a/n: i wrote this with my legs crossed and my dignity hanging on by a thread. satoru gojo if you're out there, pls. i am but a humble citizen with a high pain tolerance and a very available schedule. take me to poundtown and leave no survivors 😭🙏🏻

[kxsagi]

Hi, newbie here! Can we get a scenario where Sae is crushing on his new manager and is trying to let her know in his own tsundere kuudere way. But unfortunately for him, reader is too intimidated and somewhat scared of him to read his actions as trying to spend more alone time with her. Instead she sees it as him singling her out and trying to catch her into making a mistake so that he could get rid of her.

Like asking her what they should get for dinner, to Sae he's asking her on a dinner date (just without the asking part) to reader it's "if I choose a non satisfactory and unhealthy dinner my job is done for". But when they finally started properly talking to each other, it all worked out in the end.

“𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥”

a/n: OH THIS TROPE IS SO CUTE

thank you for being so detailed!!! 

it started with the glances. the occasional ones from across the room when no one else was watching. sae itoshi didn’t do unnecessary eye contact, not during training, not during meetings, and especially not with strangers. but ever since you were hired as the new team manager, he’d been glancing. subtly, barely perceptibly, in the way cats watch birds. curious, silent, unreadable. 

and you? you were terrified. 

not of the job, you were perfectly qualified. not of the team, most of the players were friendly, maybe even too friendly. but sae itoshi? the prodigy midfielder with a stare cold enough to solidify oxygen? he scared the living daylights out of you. 

you’d seen him get benched once for muttering "if we’re playing like amateurs, i’d rather not play at all." and he hadn’t even raised his voice. he didn’t need to. his apathy alone could level a man. 

so when he started singling you out, you knew something was wrong. 

“hey. you.” 

you froze, clipboard clutched like a shield. "... yes?" 

he was standing too close. not that close, but close enough that you could smell expensive shampoo and inevitable disappointment. he tilted his head toward the hallway. 

“we’re going to get food. you’re coming.” 

you blinked. “why me?” 

“you’re the manager, aren’t you?” 

“i-is that a test? like a secret team-building task? am i supposed to calculate everyone’s macros on the go? because i can do that! i just, uh, i didn’t bring my tablet, so–” 

“geez. no.” he sighed. “just dinner.” 

which, to sae, meant: i want to have dinner with you. 

but to you? it sounded like: this is your final chance to not screw up dinner or your job. 

so you ended up spending the entire meal calculating protein-to-carb ratios while eating like a prisoner. sae ordered sushi. you ordered a plain chicken breast and asked the waiter if the dressing was low sodium. 

sae stared at you. “you think i’m going to fire you over salad?” 

you choked. “am i not?” 

he sighed again, but this time there was a hint of disbelief. was she serious? 

“look. i don’t usually ask people to eat with me. you’d know that if you stopped looking like i was going to eat you.” 

“... i-i don’t think that.” 

“you flinch every time i breathe near you.” 

“that’s an exaggeration.” 

he leaned in. “then why are you flinching now?” 

you flinched. he stared at you. you shriveled. 

the thing about sae itoshi was that he had all the romantic tact of a brick wall. his version of flirting included asking what shoes you were wearing and then staring at them for too long. his idea of small talk was: 

“you didn’t eat breakfast.” 

“how did you know?” 

“you looked weaker than usual.” 

or: 

“stop looking so tired.” 

“... i’m just sleepy...” 

“so go sleep. you look pathetic.” 

but when you left a snack on his desk the next day, he stared at it like you’d proposed. a protein bar, carefully chosen, high in BCAAs. he stared at the wrapper, then at you, like he was seeing sunlight for the first time. 

“you got this for me?” 

“yes?” 

“it’s not poisoned?” 

“no?” 

he paused. then muttered, “thanks,” in a voice so soft it could be mistaken for wind. 

you blinked. he didn’t kill you. didn’t even scowl. just took the bar and walked away like he hadn’t just melted internally. 

and you? you started thinking. maybe… maybe he didn’t hate you. 

it all came to a head one night after practice. 

you were staying late to reorganize the locker inventory. as usual, sae lingered. he always did. claimed he was “just watching tape,” but he never watched anything. just stood there, leaning on the wall, eyes occasionally drifting to you, lips twitching like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t be bothered to form a sentence. 

“what?” you finally asked, not looking up from your clipboard. 

“you’re staying late again.” 

“yeah.” 

“you don’t have to.” 

“someone’s gotta do it.” 

silence. 

“… you’re annoying,” he said. 

you glanced up. 

he was staring at the floor. “you think i’m trying to fire you or something. you think everything i do is a test.” 

“because it feels like it...” 

“it’s not.” 

he looked at you, eyes tired but honest. “i like you.” 

your brain short-circuited. “like, as a manager?” 

“no. not as a manager.” 

“… like, as a person?” 

“gosh, do i have to spell it out?” 

you blinked. “… yes?” 

he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, cheeks tinged ever so slightly pink. “i’ve been trying to ask you out for two weeks.” 

“by criticizing my lunch choices and calling me pathetic?” 

“by spending time with you,” he deadpanned. “i don’t do that with just anyone.” 

you stared at him. he looked away. 

“… but if you don’t want to, i get it. i’m not good at this.” 

you paused. then laughed. loud, sharp, slightly hysterical. “oh my gosh. i thought you were stalking me into HR material.” 

he blinked. you added, “i would’ve just said yes if you were normal about it.” 

he raised an eyebrow. “and you’re calling me not normal?” 

you grinned. it was the first time you smiled at him without fear. “so what’s for dinner, then?” you teased. 

he blinked again. then smirked, eyes soft for once. 

“anything but salad.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[cheftsunoda]

pls pls pls pls something with kimiiiiiiii

no distractions — ka12

smau + blurbs

kimi antonelli x !f1 academy driver + wolff reader

toto wolff x !daughter driver reader

kimi and yn have been in a relationship for the last few months…however, it has been a secret. but not for the reasons you’d think— it’s not a fear of a bad reaction from toto or what the press would think. toto has a serious ‘no distractions’ rules for both his youngest driver and his daughter during the racing reason. maybe a distraction is for the best in this world of chaos…

fc : annie schröter & various f1 academy ladies:)

not proofread

(a/n) many many requests for kimi:) also for my dear @angelluv16

—

yn_wolff

liked by susie_wolff, georgerussell63, lewishamilton & 2,907,057 others.

yn_wolff : george getting scolded by my father on FaceTime to ‘act like a senior driver’ was the best part of my week

—

georgerussell63 : can you plz tell him that i was joking

liked by yn_wolff

yn_wolff : you are 27 years old and you are the senior driver…you tell him

liked by georgerussell63

georgerussell63 : i might be 27 years old but toto lectures still scare me

liked by yn_wolff

susie_wolff : So proud of you, my girl! 💪🏻❤️

liked by yn_wolff

yn_wolff : love you mommmyyyy

lewishamilton : Wish I could’ve been on that FT call 😁

liked by yn_wolff

yn_wolff : i don’t recall dad ever having to lecture you for that reason

liked by lewishamilton

georgerussell63 : listen im not used to this. its like being handed a baby as a first time mother

kimi.antonelli : mi scusi?? un bambino?? (excuse me?? a baby??)

liked by yn_wolff and lewishamilton

yn_wolff : oh way to go. you pissed off the italian. (and toto’s favorite) (and my favorite)

liked by kimi.antonelli

georgerussell63 : no toto told me he doesn’t have favorites

yn_wolff : toto lied

liked by lewishamilton

f1academy : Pretty girl! 😍

liked by yn_wolff

mercedesamgf1 : Mini Wolff has done such a good job being CEO and team principal while Boss man is away.

liked by yn_wolff and kimi.antonelli

yn_wolff : i know im rlly out here running ts

carmenmmundt : pleaseee tell me you have the video

liked by yn_wolff

yn_wolff : check your messages carms

liked by carmenmmundt

lando : send it to me plzzz🙏🏻

alexalbon : i NEED it

yn_wolff : ok I just sent it in a mass text to everybody

liked by alexalbon and lando

georgerussell63 : really guys

username00 : is she attempting a soft launch??

—

The motorhome was quiet, tucked away from the chaos of the paddock, and for once, so was my mind. Kimi lay stretched out on the couch, one arm slung around my shoulders, the other resting lazily across his chest. My legs were draped over his lap, a shared blanket tossed haphazardly over both of us. It was peaceful, the kind of rare stillness that only existed between back to back race weekends and overly complicated strategy meetings.

He was talking softly—something about feeling the pressure now that he’d taken Lewis’ seat. He never admitted it outright, but I could hear the weight in his voice. People weren’t just watching—they were expecting. Comparing. Waiting to see if he’d crack.

“You’re not him,” I said quietly, tracing patterns on his hoodie. “You’re not supposed to be. You’re you. That’s who Mercedes picked. That’s who I pick.”

He turned his head, just enough to meet my eyes, and gave me that rare, quiet smile—the one only I ever really got. His fingers brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, and for a second, the world outside didn’t exist.

CLUNK.

The door burst open.

“Oi, have either of you seen—”

George stopped mid-sentence. His eyes landed on the blanket. The tangled limbs. Kimi. Me.

The realization hit fast.

“Oh my god.” His grin was immediate.

I bolted upright like I’d been electrocuted, Kimi jerking back so hard he almost knocked over the lamp.

“It’s not what it looks like!” I blurted, way too quickly.

“Really?” George raised a brow, smug. “Because it looks like Mercedes’ new golden boy is snuggling the F1 princess in a very distraction-like manner.”

Kimi groaned under his breath. I elbowed him gently, trying to look composed while my heart threatened to punch a hole in my chest.

George turned to leave, clearly savoring the moment. “Toto is going to love this.”

“GEORGE!” I was already off the couch, chasing after him, half-laughing, half-threatening. “If you say a word to my dad, I swear to God— I will pay someone to run you off the track!”

“Worth it!” he shouted over his shoulder, dodging out the door as I followed him with a throw pillow in hand and zero mercy.

Behind me, Kimi just sighed and muttered, “I’m definitely getting a lecture for this.”

—

George was already halfway down the paddock, power-walking like he was leading a cool down lap, phone in hand and a mission in his heart.

“GEORGE, I SWEAR—”

I was practically sprinting after him, trying not to trip over my own shoelaces or the leftover cables running along the motorhome row.

“You don’t have to do this! There’s still time to not be annoying!”

He glanced over his shoulder with the biggest grin on his face. “Too late! This is premium gossip, and Lewis deserves to hear it first.”

“GEORGE.”

He ignored me, of course. Because why wouldn’t he? He was already tapping his phone screen like a man possessed. I saw Lewis’ name pop up at the top of the screen and nearly screamed.

“Hi, mate,” George greeted, way too casually. “You’ll never guess what I just walked in on—”

I launched myself forward and slapped the phone out of his hand before he could say another word. It bounced onto a table outside the Mercedes hospitality unit.

“HEY!”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me! That’s my godfather! I’m not letting you tattle like you’re in Year 6 and just caught someone sneaking sweets before lunch!”

George was trying so hard not to laugh that he was nearly choking. “I’m just saying, it’s objectively hilarious. Like, you and Kimi? Caught in the motorhome? By me? Come on—Lewis will LOVE this.”

I pointed a finger at him, out of breath and deeply unamused. “You say one word to him and I will personally leak your sim data from Silverstone last year.”

George paused.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

Just then, Lewis himself strolled out of hospitality, holding a cup of tea and looking blissfully unaware.

George opened his mouth.

I stepped in front of him like a bodyguard. “Hi, Uncle Lewis! You look so peaceful today! Just glowing. Nothing interesting happening at all.”

He blinked at us, clearly suspicious.

“…Are you two okay?”

George coughed. “Totally. Nothing to report.”

I smiled way too hard. “Yep. No drama. Just vibes.”

Lewis squinted. “Right…”

As he walked away, I glared sideways at George. “You’re insufferable.”

He smirked. “And you’re in love. How cute.”

—

yn_wolff

liked by kimi.antonelli, carmenmmundt, susie_wolff & 3,087,552 others.

yn_wolff : 5 more days until the first break of the season. (can’t come fast enough) (i need it to survive)

tagged : kimi.antonelli, georgerussell63, carmenmmundt and susie_wolff

—

kimi.antonelli : pls pack me in your suitcase for break. im so tired

liked by yn_wolff and georgerussell63

yn_wolff : ordering a bigger suitcase rn

georgerussell63 : 🤭

kimi.antonelli : george cheated in the challenge btw

georgerussell63 : i did NOT

yn_wolff : i was sitting there the whole time. you most def did. @/f1 20 place grid penalty!!

liked by lando, alexalbon, kimi.antonelli and maxverstappen1

F1 : 📝📝

carmenmmundt : miss you already pretty girl

liked by yn_wolff

georgerussell63 : who does that hand belong to??

yn_wolff : your girlfriend

liked by carmenmmundt

georgerussell63 : is this just bully george day?

yn_wolff : that is every day

username05 : def a soft launch omg

lando : why do you look so chill and well rested while i look like ive been hit with 3 trains and a Ferrari strategy call?

liked by yn_wolff

yn_wolff : it’s the wolff genes

georgerussell63 : it’s because she is in loveeee

yn_wolff : @/alexalbon & @/carmenmmundt come get your menace please

alexalbon : george leave her alone before you lose your job

liked by yn_wolff

lewishamilton : You’ve been working hard kid— you deserve a break.

liked by yn_wolff

yn_wolff : so do you after dealing with Ferrari for half a season

liked by lewishamilton

—

kimi.antonelli

liked by yn_wolff, georgerussell63, olliebearman & 1,549,087 others.

kimi.antonelli : first week of break spent back home🇮🇹

—

yn_wolff : sorry I couldn’t fit you in my suitcase:( but it looks like you’re having a great time ❤️

liked by kimi.antonelli

kimi.antonelli : the best ❤️

olliebearman : 8/10 soft launch.

liked by kimi.antonelli

lando : this is no mystery. Ik exactly who that is. you are in trouble 😁

liked by kimi.antonelli

yn_wolff : god I hate you brits. not one of ya can keep your mouth shut

liked by lando and georgerussell63

olliebearman : excuse me??? i never said ANYTHING

yn_wolff : you are an exception

mercedesamgf1 : Enjoy your break Kimi!

liked by kimi.antonelli

—

yn_wolff

italy 📍

liked by kimi.antonelli, georgerussell63, mercedesamgf1 & 4,907,809 others.

yn_wolff : italy, ily

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georgerussell63 : do you love Italy or the person in italy??

yn_wolff : this is me leaving you on read

username00 : omg it’s Kimi

username10 : insane power couple

mercedesamgf1 : this looks…familiar

carmenmmundt : so cute 🫶🏻

liked by yn_wolff

olliebearman : 9/10 soft launch

liked by yn_wolff

lando : you both make it so obvious

yn_wolff : focus on getting your own relationship before digging into mine norizz

lando : get mad at george not me — he told me

georgerussell63 : snitch

susie_wolff : So sweet❤️

—

There’s something different about Italy when you’re not just visiting — when you’re with someone who belongs to the place. Kimi knows every little side street, every beach that doesn’t show up on tourist maps. He points out the bakery where he used to sneak pastries with his cousins, like he’s handing me pieces of his childhood.

His hand never leaves my back as we walk through the market. I catch his mom smiling every time he touches me, like she’s already known I was going to be here long before we even did.

At dinner, I sit between him and his little sister, our legs tangled under the table while warm Italian voices buzz around us. Kimi leans in to whisper translations, but honestly, I don’t need them. His family’s laughter, the clink of glasses, the way his thumb keeps brushing over my knee — it all feels like home. I catch him watching me more than once with that soft little half-smile of his, like he’s still surprised I’m really here.

One evening, we sneak away on his family’s old scooter. I wrap my arms around his waist, bury my face in his back, and laugh into the wind. He reaches back to squeeze my hand whenever we hit a straight stretch, like he just needs to feel me there. We stop at a cliffside and watch the sun sink into the sea. Neither of us says anything for a while. He kisses my shoulder gently, and that says enough.

Later, his dad hands me a film camera and says, “You’re already one of us. Might as well help capture it.”

So I do.

Kimi laughing with his cousins, totally unguarded. His sister tucking wildflowers into my hair. Him and I barefoot on the sand, sneaking kisses behind his mom’s umbrella like teenagers.

—

Taking Maggie for ice cream was technically Kimi’s idea. But the second she looked up at me with those big brown eyes and asked if I wanted to come too, there was no way I was saying no.

We walked down the cobbled streets of the village, her skipping between us, one hand in mine and the other in Kimi’s. She told us all about how she once ate four scoops in one sitting like it was a world record. Kimi just groaned and said, “Yeah, and then threw up in my shoes.”

To which Maggie replied, completely unfazed, “Worth it.”

The gelateria was a tiny, pastel-colored spot that looked like it belonged in a postcard. Maggie pressed her face to the glass case, absolutely agonizing over her choice. Kimi already knew what he wanted — stracciatella, always — and when he looked at me, I just shrugged and said, “Whatever has the most chocolate in it.”

We ended up sitting on a little bench outside, Maggie in the middle with a double scoop of pistachio and raspberry that dripped down her wrist before she even took a bite. Kimi handed her a napkin, which she immediately ignored. I reached over to wipe her chin, and she just grinned at me with that gap-toothed, ice-cream-drunk look only kids can pull off.

Kimi leaned back, his arm draped behind me, watching the two of us like he was trying to memorize the moment. I caught him smiling when Maggie rested her sticky head on my shoulder.

“You’re good with her,” he said quietly, nudging my foot with his. “She really likes you.”

I smiled and stole a bite of his gelato. “She has good taste. Clearly runs in the family.”

He rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling.

Maggie, completely unaware of how soft we’d just gotten, suddenly asked, “Can I have another scoop if I say you guys are in love?”

Kimi nearly choked. I laughed so hard I almost dropped my cone.

We didn’t give her a second scoop. But we did let her pick the music for the walk back.

—

We came back sun-warmed and slightly sticky, Maggie’s cheeks dusted with sugar and her hands somehow still covered in melted gelato despite me wiping them down twice. Kimi held the door open for us, brushing a curl from my face as I walked past. I smiled at him without thinking — soft, easy, like second nature.

That was my mistake.

Because the moment I stepped inside, I saw them. My parents. Sitting at the garden table, clinking mimosa glasses with Kimi’s parents like this was some sort of diplomatic summit. There were pastries. Fresh flowers. An aura of parental chaos. Kimi froze behind me.

“Oh no,” I whispered, under my breath.

“Oh no,” he repeated, under his.

Mum spotted us first. She smiled—the smile. The one that said I know everything and I’m trying not to laugh about it in front of your father.

“Hi, darling,” she said sweetly, waving us over like this wasn’t a whole setup from the universe. “Did you two have fun?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Maggie beat me to it. “YN bought me ice cream and Kimi said she’s his gi—”

Kimi coughed. Loudly.

“—giggler,” she finished, completely unconvincingly. “Because she giggles a lot.”

I turned slowly to look at her. She gave me an innocent thumbs-up and started eating a croissant like she hadn’t just tried to blow up our entire lives in front of Toto Wolff.

Mum was vibrating with quiet laughter. Kimi’s mother looked like she wanted to say “finally.” His dad just nodded, like this confirmed a bet he’d made with himself months ago.

And Papa? Toto looked directly at Kimi. Then at me. Then at the not-insignificant way our hands were still touching.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Brunch?” he asked. Voice calm. Dangerous.

Kimi, to his credit, didn’t flinch. “Sounds great.”

I could practically feel mum’s delight from across the table.

As we sat down, she leaned in and whispered, “This’ll be fun.”

I sighed, reached for a piece of bread, and muttered, “Only if no one lets Maggie speak again.”

—

yn_wolff

miami 📍

liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt, kimi.antonelli & 4,098,790 others.

yn_wolff : miami— always a pleasure. (yay kimi! p1 quali)

—

yourbff : i love you and miami :)

liked by yn_wolff

yn_wolff : best time with you

carmenmmundt : you are the IT girl. so miami coded

liked by yn_wolff

kimi.antonelli : great weekend. great city. great girl.

liked by yn_wolff, lando, georgerussell63

lando : i know that’s kimi in the mirror pic don’t play with me

yn_wolff : what did i say

username22 : the ‘yay kimi’ caption like you’re not fully dating is actually comedy

liked by olliebearman

olliebearman : longest soft launch in my whole 20 years of living

liked by yn_wolff

—

f1gossipgirls

liked by georgerussell63, lando and 208,090 others.

f1gossipgirls : New paparazzi pics show what looks very much like Mercedes’ golden boy Kimi Antonelli kissing Y/N Wolff (yes, Toto’s daughter 👀) during their vacation on the Italian coast.

—

user has turned off comments.

—

My palms were sweating. Which, frankly, was ridiculous. I race cars at 200 km/h for a living. I’ve gone wheel to wheel with girls twice my size and once drove half a race with a loose visor screw. But this? Sitting across from my father with Kimi beside me, trying to casually bring up the fact that we’ve been secretly dating for months? Yeah. This was the most terrifying thing I’d done all year.

“So…” I started, playing with the hem of my sleeve. “There’s something we wanted to talk to you about.”

Toto looked up from his laptop, eyes flicking between us with the kind of calm that made me more nervous than if he’d been yelling.

Kimi, to his credit, didn’t flinch. “It’s about me and Y/N.”

My dad raised an eyebrow.

“We’re… together,” I said, heart pounding. “Like, dating. We have been for a while now. But we didn’t say anything because of the no distractions rule and—”

Toto held up a hand.

“I know,” he said simply.

I blinked. “You… what?”

“I’m not blind,” he said, with the faintest smirk. “He looks at you like you’re a trophy. Also, Susie told me.”

I whipped around. “She what?”

Toto ignored me, turning to Kimi instead. “You’re both winning races. Training hard. Staying out of drama. If this is a distraction, I want more of them.”

Kimi nodded, looking both respectful and vaguely relieved. “Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t call me ‘sir,’” Toto muttered. “You’ve hugged me three times this season, you’ve lost that right.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it.

“Just one rule,” he added, giving us that look. “No kissing in the garage. I’m still your father. And your team boss.”

“Deal,” I said quickly, while Kimi mumbled something that sounded like “understood.”

As we stood up to leave, Toto called after us.

“Oh, and Kimi?”

He turned.

“You break her heart, and I break your contract.”

Kimi went a little pale. I grinned the entire way out of the room.

—

kimi.antonelli

liked by yn_wolff, lando, olliebearman and 5,090,879 others.

kimi.antonelli : i missed the whole 'don't date the bosses daughter' memo

—

georgerussell63 : toto’s gonna frame this post and hang it in his office

liked by yn_wolff and kimi.antonelli

lando : you only got away with it bc he loves you. no one else could of pulled this off. i respect

liked by yn_wolff and kimi.antonelli

charles_leclerc : i want to be this brave one day

liked by yn_wolff and kimi.antonelli

susie_wolff : Happy to have you a part of the family, Kimi! So cute.

liked by yn_wolff and kimi.antonelli

lewishamilton : Well, if the father approves...I guess that means the godfather has to as well. Happy for you both!

liked by yn_wolff and kimi.antonelli

olliebearman : oh thank GOD. i was getting bored.

liked by yn_wolff and kimi.antonelli

carmenmmundt : my favesssss

liked by yn_wolff and kimi.antonelli

mercedesamgf1 : oh now this is ICONIC

liked by yn_wolff and kimi.antonelli

[rafeslvbug]

military!rafe and a baby girl? i feel like she’d be his little princess, her on his hip as he makes the twins do push ups loll

military!rafe when lovebug!reader has a baby girl…

she is his little princess, confirmed.

from the moment she’s born he wants to be there for everything. first words. first steps. first sound. EVERYTHING.

with the twins he’d always make some joke about how “it’s okay if i miss one, the other’ll jus’ do it after an’ i’ll see that.” but you knew deep down he wanted to see it all.

with her? he’s not missing out. he refuses. if you even think she’s close to doing one of her firsts, and he’s deployed, you have to call him. he’ll drop everything just to hear her or see her.

he’ll do all sorts of shit for her. she wants some overpriced princess castle? fuck yeah he’s buying that. then he’ll build it.

i couldn’t exactly see him playing dress up though or any of that kind of thing. he loves his daughter but i think the most he’ll do is play shop, or maybe nurse.

he’d play nurse but then get quite morbid with it. training her to become a paramedic in the military field.

“bullet two inches deep, didn’t come out the other side, might have punctured a liver.”

“rafe!” you’d scold, while she scratches her head, not sure what any of that means.

i love the idea of him just holding her while he makes the twins do their push ups or exercise. he’s just bouncing her up and down, whispering all kinds of stuff to her to make her giggle

“don’t you think your brothers could do better?”

“boys, your sister’s getting sick of this!”

“which one of them d’you think is winning?”

“oh yeah son? you feel proud that you beat your brother? okay do five more with your sister on your back!”

when it’s time for her to eat, he’ll gladly do it. he’ll do the “train shit” or “airplane crap” as he calls it, with some voice you never knew he was capable of. but if she spits it out, he’ll be gruff in tone again, and she’ll look up at him with such wide eyes because she didn’t know he was capable of that - he’s never used that voice around her before.

doesn’t like using the pushchair. will carry her.

she’s such a daddy’s girl too. your sons are undoubtedly momma’s boys, but your girl loves rafe. she spends more time with you because he’s deployed, but her first words were “dada”.

speaking of which, when you video called rafe and she said it, he had to turn his camera off because he was tearing up, to which your daughter began to whine because she couldn’t see him anymore.

so now military!rafe and lovebug!reader are a family of five! it honestly won’t be long until it’s six. in rafe’s eyes, he wanted to knock you up at least three times, make a whole army of kids. he’s only done it twice, because he doesn’t think the twins count as two, so another one is due.

i think it would be a boy.

[satoblue]

“THE THINGS I DO FOR THE ONE I LOVE” — gojo satoru

it’s that time of month — you have to cut your husband’s toenails. | wc: 1.1k

f!reader, established relationship (the beautiful mr. and mrs. gojo), disgusting fluff, you clip satoru’s toenails monthly aka one of your wifely duties, his feet stink btw, banter upon banter, he is a gross man tbh, but guys . did you know? d-did you know that i LOVE him? 🥹 this fic seems fitting to release now as it is the first of the month which is when you snip them like a fresh haircut, based on this talk post of mine. | dividers made by me

it’s the day you dread the most every month.

not paying bills. not going to the dentist. not even the start of your period.

no — it’s toenail clipping day.

you sit cross legged on the couch, nail clippers in hand as if you’re preparing for battle. which you are… in a way.

and right on cue, satoru flops onto the couch — shirt half untucked, hair an adorable mess, and smugness dialed up to eleven. he leans back, arms folded behind his head, grunting with exaggerated satisfaction as he gets comfortable.

and with the casual entitlement of a man who’s never once been told “no” — he drops his feet into your lap.

you shoot him a glare. but as always, he’s completely unfazed.

“i don’t know how you haven’t fallen even more in love with me during these intimate bonding sessions,” he smiles as he wiggles his very large, very unwashed toes at you.

you stare at his feet. then at him. then back to his feet before sighing deeply.

“the things i do for you,” you mutter.

he flashes that lazy grin. “domestic bliss, baby. we’ve got it all.”

“you realize these things smell like they’ve been stewing in your shoes for over eight hours, right?”

which, unfortunately — they have. school lessons, missions — and who knows what else. he hasn’t had a moment to change or even breathe since this morning.

“yeah,” he shrugs, eyes closing like he’s settling in for a nap. “extra seasoning.”

“satoru.” you lean away slightly, nose wrinkling.

“yes, love of my life?”

“did you seriously come straight from work without even showering?”

“might’ve taken a detour to the fridge first. priorities, babe. gotta refuel before the spa treatment.” he replies with a grunt, scooting down further into the cushions with a satisfied little “ahhh” when he finds the sweet spot.

you click your tongue in disapproval and grab his ankle, yanking his foot closer as you resign yourself to your fate.

focus on the job. get it done.

“you left your socks on the kitchen table by the way.”

“oh. that was a love offering.” he admits casually with a shrug, not even a little bit sorry.

“they were wet, satoru.”

“extra heartfelt.”

you don’t even give that one a response.

but just as you start working, you feel it — the subtle shift in weight, the telltale movement. then suddenly his foot is right in your face, toes wiggling and nudging you.

you squeal and jerk back like he just threw a dirty dishcloth at you.

“you absolute animal!” you snap while he cackles. “do that again and i’ll cut you.” you hiss angrily through your teeth, holding the clippers up threateningly like a weapon.

satoru pauses just enough to keep still. “you’re really gonna threaten bodily harm on sweet, little ol’ me over a toe boop?”

“yes. yes, i am. and i promise — every time you take your socks off, you will remember this moment.”

“wahhh, i married such a violent woman,” he sighs fondly — batting his lashes like he finds it dreamy and romantic.

“you married someone willing to touch your nasty feet once a month.”

he gazes at you with a little smile that softens at the edges. “yeah… lucky me.”

you blink, caught off guard by the sincerity for just a second. then you roll your eyes and go back to clipping with a huff.

you know his toes better than you’d like to admit by now — how much pressure he likes, which corners are sensitive, how he always relaxes fully after the second toe. there is something stupidly tender about the whole thing — even with him being a pain the entire time.

and maybe it’s in the way he allows himself to be vulnerable with you during even the gross parts. the domestic parts. the ridiculous parts that no one else gets to see but you — his wife.

“by the way,” you say flatly, not looking up. “i found one of your socks under my pillow yesterday.”

“i was scent marking your side of the bed.”

you pause, turning to look at him. “i am this close to filing for divorce.”

he beams like he knows exactly how much he’s testing you. “but who else is gonna trim my toes while whispering sweet nothings?”

“you mean threats?”

“tomato, tomahto.” he pokes at your thigh with one toe. “to be fair, you did say you missed me today.”

“i didn’t mean i missed your pungent scent,” you reply, clipping a nail with a sharp snap for emphasis.

“yet you still married me~,” he hums, eyes closed again, way too pleased with himself.

you pause for a second, looking at him — completely relaxed, trusting you with this like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“yeah,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him. “i really did.”

“wait, what was that?” he asks, cracking one eye open.

“nothing,” you huff rather quickly, snipping another toenail.

satoru smiles knowingly. “you know, i love when you take care of me like this. so nurturing. so gentle.”

“you’re five seconds away from a stubby pinky toe.”

“okay, okay! i’ll behave,” he chuckles, hands up in surrender. “just… don’t stop.”

you shoot him a warning glance, but your hands are already moving again — steady and practiced like always. because this is satoru. your husband.

and oddly enough, you wouldn’t trade these little routines for anything.

finally, you snip the last nail and toss the clippers onto the coffee table. he lifts his feet and inspects them, wiggling his toes proudly before giving you an approving thumbs up.

“all done. now go burn those socks and take a shower.”

he groans, then scoots closer, head tilting toward you. “no kiss for your loyal client?”

“not until you wash off the foot stench.” you say, collecting his tiny nail clippings.

he pouts. “you’re heartless.”

still, he leans in anyway, puckering his lips dramatically like a cartoon duck. you dodge him with a scoff, barely hiding your smile.

“and you’re disgusting.”

but a few minutes later — with his feet marginally cleaner and his body curled into yours — he rests his head on your shoulder with a soft, content sigh — like he’s just been pampered at a five star spa instead of mildly threatened in his own home.

gross, loveable idiot.

the things you do for him.

still, you do toss his socks into the laundry basket with tongs later. just for your own peace of mind.