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astonmartinii · 8 months ago

Text

copycat | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x fem reader

they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but really it's just annoying

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

note: sorry to all of the chloes of the world, i just chose a random name!

f1tea

liked by user1, user2 and 27,305 others

tagged: yourusername, chloereed

f1tea: SHE STRIKES AGAIN! y/n y/ln, oscar piastri's girlfriend, recently changed up her style with some bangs and surprise, surprise chloe reed shared her updated look just days later. then to really pour salt in the wound, reed posted yet again in mclaren merch. will she ever give up?

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user3: BRO YOU COULDN'T HAVE WAITED AT LEAST A WEEK?

user4: i think all subtlety was lost when she copied a literal TATTOO

user5: the way it's y/n's tattoo dedicated to oscar as well...

user6: at what point do we get a restraining order?

user7: the day that girl ends up in the paddock we should let y/n fight her with no consequences

user8: this has been going on for so long i feel like y/n has a lot to unleash on her

user9: at this point i think all of us y/n fans should be able to get their lick in

user10: i'm new to f1 can someone explain this lore to me? (srs)

user11: y/n and oscar have been together for nearly four years now, they got together when they were like 19. this chloe reed girl went on one date with oscar when they were 17 and now copies everything y/n does to try and get his attention? like down to haircut and tattoos ... it's kinda crazy and y/n has made some references to it but like we're nearing like the third year of this so i think she might snap soon

user12: it's even got to the point where chloe has like started talking with y/n's accent? she has a very obvious accent so like it's INSANE

user13: and to think all of this over a single date SIX YEARS AGO

user14: on a brighter note - y/n was MADE for bangs they look so fucking good

user15: obviously she should stop but if there's anyone you want to look like, it would be y/n

user16: at this point is it even over oscar anymore? or has chloe lost herself to journey to BECOME y/n

user17: the fact that she still camps out under all of oscar's posts and constantly posts in mclaren merch

user18: and don't even get me started with how she's always in the comments of oscar's sisters' comments

user19: someone needs to get nicole to put this girl on blast

user20: remember before elon took away public likes that mark went on a liking spree about chloe being a lil weirdo

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, logansargeant and 1,209,566 others

tagged: oscarpiastri, landonorris & maxfewtrell

yourusername: summer breakin' with my boy (and his boy)

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user24: MAMA THERE'S A BITCH TRYNA BE JUST LIKE YOU 💜

user25: i unfortunately think she's very aware of it

oscarpiastri: i know you love me because you didn't get annoyed about THEM gatecrashing our couples getaway

landonorris: what if we are a couple HUH???

oscarpiastri: max literally has a girlfriend?

landonorris: ur so close-minded osc

yourusername: i love you osc even with these little stray cats you've picked up

landonorris: did we or did we not organise a super romantic dinner for you?

oscarpiastri: i organised a dinner and you two are so fussy that you left to find some chicken nuggets?

landonorris: therefore giving you a romantic evening on the water?

yourusername: you fell in the water trying to get back on board from the tender and i had to jump in and save you after a fish touched your foot and you began to have a panic attack

landonorris: god you do something nice for people and all you get is SHAMED

mclarenf1: you nearly drowned ???

user26: is chloe going to attempt to drown someone so she can claim she also saved an f1 driver

user27: @georgerussell63 alert the GDPA - NO WATER !!!

georgerussell63: understood 🫡

user28: has it not gotten to a crazy point now that we're warning drivers that this crazy girl might DROWN them ???

user29: at what point do we put oscar and y/n is witness protection

user30: the day she manages to get in the paddock me thinks

charles_leclerc: i see our invite got lost in the mail?

yourusername: please refer to whatever the fuck was going above your comment

charles_leclerc: that you're a victim of identity theft?

yourusername: we been known, but BEFORE THAT

charles_leclerc: oh. you should've let lando drown

landonorris: ???

oscarpiastri: i think that might have gotten me fired?

yourusername: no more papaya rules?

chloereed

liked by user31, user32 and 11,045 others

chloereed: summer breakin'

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user33: oh brother this guy STINKS

user34: i am feeling sufficiently creeped out on the behalf of y/n and oscar

user35: i really don't understand her game here though? does she expect oscar to see this and actually mistake her for y/n and leave y/n for her?

user36: at this point i think she's lost in the sauce

user37: also oscar is hilariously down bad for y/n like he could probably recognise her via vibrational field he would not fall for this cheap imitation

logansargeant: this ain't it btw (it's never been it)

user38: not logan tapping in

logansargeant: who gon check me boo? i ain't got a job

chloereed: i don't know what you're trying to say, but i don't appreciate you spreading misinformation and hate

logansargeant: you have literally copied everything about my best friend down to her sentimental tattoos and you've essentially stalked my other bestfriend for nearly seven years ?

chloereed: it's not stalking if i know i'm what he really wants? she's the imitation of me

logansargeant: you like need help

user39: GO LOGAN

user40: bro has been let of the leash

user41: tbf when you think about it, logan has been friends with oscar for years and by default friends with y/n for just as long so like he's probably seen how this has effected them personally

user42: i don't really see how this is such a big deal, people try and imitate celebs all the time ?

user43: i think it's because she knows at least one of them personally and is very viciously pursuing oscar

user44: also there has to be an aspect we don't know because i don't think logan would be publicly taking her on in the comments if it weren't a lot worse

user45: also ... like it probably feels like shit as a person generally to have everything you do copied and not even get a tiny bit of credit

liked by danielricciardo, patooward and 1,784,039 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 & oscarpiastri

f1: we're ready for you monza

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user46: OMG IS THAT?

user47: i'm being so for real y/n needs to fight her

user48: OSCAR RUNNNNNNNNN

landonorris: do i need to inform the legal department?

yourusername: you might want to give them some sort of heads up

chloereed: why you afraid i'll steal back my man?

yourusername: no i'm afraid i'll get hit with a manslaughter charge

chloereed: that's a threat - my lawyers will be hearing

yourusername: tell them bitch, oscar would still choose conjugal visits with me over ever being with you

user49: came for the fast cars, staying for whatever this drama is omg

user50: i once went on a reddit deep dive about this drama where they compiled all the evidence and holy moly this confrontation has been a long time coming

user51: the best (or maybe worse) thing abotu all of this is that her claim of being with oscar first and dating him when they were 17 is based on one 'date' where is was just a joint ball between their schools where there was a compulsory dance in which they were partners

maxverstappen1: yo this shit is insane

user52: aren't you meant to be in the car in 20 minutes?

maxverstappen1: drama waits for no one @yourusername i got ur back

charles_leclerc: at this point i will mobilise the tifosi @yourusername

yourusername: i can handle her, i might just need some money to fix my nails

oscarpiastri: please do not fight her, she's not worth it

chloereed: she won't fight for your love but i will

oscarpiastri: can you just fuck off

user53: i fear she's pushed them over the edge now lol

user54: i'm glad they're both letting her have it in the PUBLIC INSTAGRAM COMMENTS <3

f1tea

liked by user55, user56 and 34,982 others

f1tea: she's finally done it? chloe reed was spotted in the paddock at monza. will we finally see a confrontation between the two girls?

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user55: i FUCKING hope so

user56: if i were y/n you'd have to hold me back i'm being so serious

user57: i'd be in oscar's mclaren so fast and be driving down the pit lane to look for her

user58: i'd already be in an italian prison sorry not sorry

user59: y/n needs to give me lessons on being this graceful

user60: at this point we should just have an undercard for the race that's these girls tussling it out

user61: at this point i think logan, charles and max are ready to jump in

user62: charles and max being in the comments just before FP getting the scoop is so insane i love them

user63: imagine getting these f1 drivers this pressed over an aesthetic

user64: if you think this is just about an aesthetic you're just being dumb on purpose

user65: but like y/n is just a girl with bangs and a basic look, u could say like half of the female population are copying y/n

user66: but like please look at the actual evidence, it's way deeper than bangs babe

user67: also the TATTOO WHY ARE WE NOT TALKING ABOUT THE TATTOO

user68: whatever happens y/n will always be better than me

user69: she needs to bash her publicly if she won't beat her physically lol

oscarpiastri

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 3,984,022 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: please leave us alone, you'll never be her and i don't want you to be

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user71: STUNT ON THEM QUEEN

user72: a man who vocally defends you >>>

yourusername: love you bby

oscarpiastri: if anyone wants to take me away from you they'll have to defeat me in combat

yourusername: not saying i want that but you would be so sexy in full armour

oscarpiastri: for you... i would wear anything :3

user73: bro said his piece and immediately went back to simping like a pro

user74: if he doesn't offer to wear a suit of armour in the bedroom is he really in love with you?

user75: i guess we're not getting any dad!oscar content any time soon

landonorris: ???

user75: it's a joke about protected sex genius

landonorris: OH

chloereed: that's not what you said then oscar

oscarpiastri: THAT WAS SIX YEARS AGO IN A CONVERSATION I WAS OBLIGATED TO HAVE GET A GRIP WOMAN

oscarpiastri: YOU WILL NEVER FEEL SATISFACTION IN YOUR LIFE IF YOU CONTINUE TO COPY EVERYTHING SHE DOES AND REFUSE TO BE YOUR OWN PERSON

oscarpiastri: so PLEASE FOR YOUR OWN SAKE GET YOUR OWN LIFE AND LEAVE US ALONE

oscarpiastri: oh. i'm blocked

oscarpiastri: slay

user76: so ... oscar... when can we get this level of reading on the radio

yourusername: don't make him do community service :(

user77: but him being sassy is a service to the community

yourusername: you make a good point

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 2,045,677 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: you can be a copy cat all you like, but you'll never beat the original

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user78: i am sorry i exist at the same time as you

user79: i know this a whole love post but i have a confession, i am IN LOVE WITH YOU GET RID OF THE AUSSIE

oscarpiastri: 🤨

charles_leclerc: this was a whole saga, i'm happy it's all worked out for you guys but this was hella entertaining - when can we do it again?

yourusername: never again hopefully

charles_leclerc: boring!

yourusername: it literally got to the point that you offered to leave your car keys in a 'special spot'

charles_leclerc: well obviously i don't mean to THAT extent but i just want a bit of drama, let a girl live

user80: shit stirrer charles leclerc i love you

user81: we should've known he was in the trenches with this, the inchident knows no bounds

oscarpiastri: i love you and i'm sorry this happened. but you do slay so i could see why people would want to be you

yourusername: i knew me with bangs would be too powerful 😔

oscarpiastri: you're the most beautiful girl in the world no matter what

yourusername: ugh you have me blushing pretty boy

landonorris: cringe

yourusername: maybe if you copied oscar's flirting techniques you'd actually be wifed

landonorris: i thought we just established that copying is bad

yourusername: trust me, you need the help

user82: i'm glad we've returned to peace with the lando slander

user83: they're power is insane

maxverstappen1: can i say helping you come up with this caption is my community service

yourusername: fuck yes

maxverstappen1: stunting on hoes is very much in the public interest

fin.

note: i'm back in a rhythm !! this is not so subtle so i'll expand here: please please please do not steal my work, idc if you change the driver, if you're blatantly stealing my ideas and concepts - to the point that people are messaging me to make me aware, please don't! or at least credit me rather than pretending this a completely original thought. mamma mia didn't bother me as much because it's obviously the musical's idea, but omg undercover verstappen? big reputation? and guilty as sin - down to the series name? i haven't made any posts about this but know it's very much bothering me and if i see anymore i may have to put it on blast. thank you all for reading, soz for the rant but this has been going on for months.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #oscar piastri instagram au #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri social media au

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saintobio · 9 months ago

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓. (final part to 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑.)

in the painful memory of what once was, sylus learns that love can't be bound where it was never meant to stay.

♱ pairings. sylus, fem!reader

♱ genre. angst, smut, boss/assistant, 18+

♱ tags. sylus's pov, reader is not l&ds!mc, sylus might be ooc, main story spoilers, razor's dance spoilers, nightplumes spoilers, lots of timeskip, fast-paced, unrequited love, profanity, petnames (kitten, sweetie), espionage, jealousy, brief smut, mentions of pregnancy/impregnation kink, mentions of accidents, suicide attempt, injuries, blood, usage of guns, usage of knife, killings, death, my own theories incorporated into the lore, sylus groveling bcos yall want him to

♱ notes. 9.5k wc. l&ds!mc is referred to here as 'diana'. THIS IS A REPOST of the original post i accidentally deleted. i already posted this several hours ago, so if you’re seeing this new one again, blame my dumbass 🤧 oh well life is life.

Sylus had a part of him that wished things could be different.

Ever since he turned away and left you that night at the alleyway, he didn’t really realize the chain of events his decision would set into motion. He simply underestimated how strongly your threats were backed by the grudge you had on him for bringing the hunter girl from Linkon into his base.

After all, you were just an assistant of his. And her, she was everything to him. It wasn’t just about the Aether Core, too—their bond stretched back into his distant past, into another planet where two of them ruled before the inhabitants of Philos came to ruin everything. Him and Diana had a connection he couldn’t sever no matter how much you had come to mean to him. And he spent years, centuries even, just to search for her.

So, how could a mere assistant he had known for less than a decade have such entitlement to her role in his life?

Eventually, days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. With your prolonged absence from the Onychinus base, Sylus’s business transactions and illicit deals had become increasingly unruly. He had grown too dependent on you as his right-hand woman, relying on your meticulous management to ensure all his illegal activities ran smoothly. Yet now, without your oversight, things were falling apart.

And while he was contemplating how to fill the void your absence had created, the office door slammed open. A subordinate soon rushed in, breathless and wide-eyed. “Boss, she’s betrayed us!” Luke exclaimed. “She’s gone to the Hunter’s Association. We got word that she was a high-ranking intelligence agent there!”

“A.K.A a spy!” yelled the other twin, Kieran, who looked equally hurt at your betrayal. “She fooled all of us. And here, we treated her like family.”

That was how Sylus learned that you had left the N109 Zone, seeking refuge in Linkon City, and had exposed critical intel on Onychinus. At the time, rage naturally exploded within him. Didn’t he take good care of you while you were here? He had given you everything, trusted you, and you had thrown it all away. Four years of falling into his trap. Four years of being his partner in crime, his right-hand woman, his lover. People even saw you as the modern day Bonnie & Clyde. Sylus couldn’t understand the root of your betrayal, couldn’t imagine how letting you slip away from his grasp would cost him so much in return.

When you vowed to do everything in your power to kill Diana, was this just a part of your grand scheme? What other machinations were you orchestrating in your pursuit of revenge?

“She’s a wild animal on loose.” Sylus looked up at the twins, maintaining a calm yet ruthless mien as he sat on the couch. He might be idly tossing a coin like he didn’t care, but inside his brain was chaos ensuing. “Where’s she now? Any news?”

It was Luke who shrugged in response. “She hasn’t been seen anywhere, boss-man.”

“We suspect the Association is hiding her,” Kieran added.

The hunter girl, Diana—the very girl you were jealous of, was sitting next to Sylus throughout the conversation. Their hands were connected by a strong energy linkage that was seemingly ignited by the Aether Cores in their bodies. They couldn’t separate themselves even if they wanted to. And God forbid you would have lost your mind tenfold had you seen their situation right now.

“That g-girl,” gasped the hunter girl, eyes wide in bewilderment at what she was hearing. “Sylus, your assistant. She did all that? She was a spy from the Hunter’s Association?”

Luke tilted her head at the girl, his beaked mask mocking her. “Oh, miss hunter! Haven’t you heard about the HIS? You should know them better than us.”

“Well.. what is the HIS?”

“Hunter Intelligence Services.” Sylus was the one who answered, releasing a deep sigh while rubbing his temples. “They’re top secret. Regular hunters wouldn’t have known about them, because they only deal with people like me.”

Diana looked between him and the twins, rubbing her wrist before moving closer to the boss of Onychinus. Her close proximity allowed him to smell her familiar sweet scent. “Is she… after me? But I don’t understand. If she’s part of the Hunter’s Association too, then shouldn’t we be colleagues?”

Kieran cleared his throat. “Ever since you came—”

“Place a bounty on her head,” Sylus interrupted the twins, and also ignored the question of the girl next to him. She didn’t need to learn the history behind you and him, or why you chose to target her. “Make sure to bring Y/N back to me. Alive.”

“Roger that, boss!”

It was his last desperate attempt to draw you back to him. Now that you had the Hunter’s Association protecting you, Sylus knew that locating you wouldn’t be as simple. Otherwise, he would have easily captured Diana long ago. He convinced himself that the bounty was to punish you, but deep down, he knew it was because he couldn’t bear to lose you to his enemies completely.

It took you a year to return to the N109 Zone.

Did you forget he had eyes and ears everywhere? He was the boss of that infamous No-Hunt Zone. Even if you leaked intel about his residences and the Onychinus base to the Hunter’s Association, Sylus still had a few tricks up his sleeve. He had hideouts in places that even you weren’t aware of, and the residents of the N109 Zone were loyal to him. Too loyal that they wouldn’t give any information to anyone no matter the consequences.

And how foolish were you to forget about Mephisto’s existence?

“Caw! Caw!”

The mechanical crow’s eyes glowed with the same red hue as Sylus’s as it landed on his arm, projecting visions of you entering the underground fight club disguised in an Onychinus uniform. It was almost farcical that you thought you could infiltrate a place Sylus frequented unnoticed.

But then, the vision shifted to you speeding on a motorcycle with a truck in hot pursuit. Sylus quickly recognized the truck’s decals—it was the hitman he often employed for dealing with his enemies, now terrorizing you in a high-speed chase. Without hesitation, Sylus grabbed his leather jacket and mounted his own bike, racing to your location in sixth gear.

He arrived just a minute too late. And what was meant to be a dramatic reunion turned into a scene of you lying unconscious and injured on the road, while the hitman grinned nearby with an expression of triumph. If it hadn’t been for your helmet, Sylus would have been met with the gruesome sight of your shattered skull.

“Mr. Sylus!” the hitman exclaimed, jumping out of his truck with arms outstretched in petty victory. “Can I get the $500,000,000 in cash?”

As Sylus’s gaze fell on your unconscious, injured body sprawled on the ground, a surge of anguish overwhelmed him in ways he couldn’t understand. But it was quickly replaced by seething rage—rage that made him summon his black-red mist, enveloping the hitman in its dark tendrils.

“I said not to harm her,” Sylus growled, his red eye glowing ominously against the desolate highway backdrop. “You failed your task.”

“P-Please, Mr. Sylus! I thought you—”

Without another word, Sylus scooped you up in his arms while his mist dealt with the hitman behind him. The hitman’s desperate cries were soon drowned out by the expanding tendrils, which tightened around him until he was engulfed. Then, in a violent burst, the mist exploded, reducing the hitman and everything around him to dust.

Sylus brought you to his underground hideout immediately after. And an unfamiliar—or perhaps strange—pang tugged at his heart as he gently laid you in bed, his gaze lingering on the road rash you obtained from the crash. The injuries were severe, with patches of skin nearly stripped away in the most brutal fashion he could think of. He could only imagine the burning pain you had to endure as soon as you skidded along the gravel, and Sylus felt his own frustrations knocking at the door knowing that he didn’t have the power to extend his fast-healing abilities to you.

“Tch. My kitten’s reckless as always, riding without the proper gear,” Sylus grumbled, looking at your unconscious body. “You’ve never been one to follow the rules, have you?”

To make up for his inability to save you on time, he applied a potent medicinal ointment all over your body and placed you in an anesthetized state while you healed. His mist enveloped you like a protective shroud the entire time you laid in bed unconscious. Every single day, Sylus tended to your wounds, changing your clothes and bandages, and applying the ointments over your bare body. He even took special care to ensure the twins did not enter your room without his permission.

Despite the care he showed, a persistent question echoed in his mind: Why am I doing this for you? You were his enemy, a traitor, and a woman who had betrayed him. It didn’t make sense.

That afternoon, feeling suffocated from this internal conflict, Sylus decided to leave you in the care of Luke and Kieran while he went to Linkon. He knew he needed space to grapple with the feelings that were driving him to care for you in the first place.

He needed to see the real woman he should be caring for.

Because you had not only exposed intel on Sylus and Onychinus to the Hunter’s Association, you also asked for them to isolate Diana so she would have no way to see or contact him. Who knew that mere feelings of jealousy would spark you to do such trivial things?

Frankly, you were insane. You were dark and twisted like him.

But in a way, it only underscored how similarly deranged the two of you were. Perhaps, in your madness, there was a strange compatibility—one that Sylus found unsettlingly fitting. The suggestion of you two being more a suitable pair than he and Diana gave him an unease that he couldn’t simply shake away.

It should be her. Her. Just her and her alone. He dedicated his whole life into finding her, yet you came into his life to ruin the foundations he had built to meet the person he was supposedly destined for. He had repeated it over and over in his mind like a broken record—the voices in his head telling him to let you go, to hurt you, to make you suffer.

However, as he stood across the pedestrian crossing, watching Diana from afar, a realization hit him like a cold gust of wind. There she was, oblivious to his presence on the other side, but the spark that once ignited in his heart whenever he saw her was gone. Now, his pulse remained steady and his heart stayed still.

With a wary glance around, mindful of any watchful eyes, he decided to pick up his phone and ring hers. It was a good thing he was able to seamlessly blend into the crowd, with his practiced nonchalance making him invisible among the throng of people. After all, he was Sylus Qin, the mastermind of Onychinus—disguise was second nature to him.

“Sylus?” Her voice came through the line, tentative and filled with a mix of emotions as she scanned the faces on the other side of the crossing.

“According to the conditions set by the Hunter’s Association, we shouldn’t be meeting again.” His voice was steady, almost detached, as he kept the phone pressed to his ear. “Or if not, you will be marked as a Tenebra.”

Her eyes eventually found him amidst the walking crowd, keeping an expression on her face that showed both longing and forlornness. “Not the first time someone has been marked a Tenebra because of you,” she managed to slip in a snarky remark in her worried expression. “Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?”

“Are you worried about me?” he nonchalantly asked, watching as she stepped off the curb when the light turned green. Each step was a step closer to him, but nothing changed the pace of his own heartbeat like it should have. Nothing stirred within him as it once did.

“You have the audacity to use a phone when you’re right in front of me,” she snapped, frustration flaring as she yanked the phone from his grasp. Without hesitation, she grabbed his arm, dragging him along with her to escape the dangers of being seen in public. They ended up in an alleyway, a place hidden from prying eyes, an irony that made Sylus chuckle under his breath. The alleyway. Why has that become such a memorable place to him? “Sylus, what’s so funny? I was so scared something happened to you! You couldn’t even call me back or text me the past few days?”

He remained expressionless as he observed her outburst. Strange. In her frantic worry, she reminded him of you, and it was a discomfiting parallel that sent chills down his spine. “I said I’d need to disappear from your life completely, so I have to tie up loose ends,” he began, each word seemingly a dagger to her heart. “We haven’t been able to resonate either way, sweetie. There’s no reason for us to keep meeting.”

“No!” she adamantly denied the thought, pulling him into an embrace. “No, you’re not allowed to disappear just like that! We need to find a way to get—”

“It’s a dangerous gamble to be caught in my world,” he said in a low voice.

But she was stubborn. “I’m already caught in it! So, please, Sylus, take me with you. Take me to the N109 Zone or wherever you’re hiding. I want to be where you are.” And in spite, she uttered words that made Sylus think twice about his perception of you. “It’s her fault that this is all happening. She’s a traitor to you and to the Association. Her loyalty isn’t with anyone but herself, Sylus. She’s the one who needs to disappear!”

Back at his hideout, Sylus was careful to ensure that Diana remained oblivious to your presence in another room. He was already grappling with how to manage the situation—torn between the woman he loved and the woman he had wronged who, ironically, were both now under the same roof. The thought of you two crossing paths was a nightmare he didn’t want to deal with, so he gave strict orders to the twins, notorious for their loose lips and loud mouths, to keep Diana far from you.

Because when Sylus returned to your room, he knew you were awake. The dark classical music playing from the vinyl record had likely stirred you from unconsciousness. It had been nearly a week since the crash, but thanks to his meticulous care, your wounds had mostly healed, leaving only faint scars behind.

“You can’t hide from me forever.” Sylus hovered over you to whisper into your ear, summoning his protective black-red mist to slowly release you. “Wake up, kitten. We have unfinished business.”

When you finally opened your eyes after what felt like an eternity, Sylus told himself it was natural to feel relieved, that it was only right for his heart to soften at the sight of you returning to consciousness. But as you awoke, the voices in his head—the damned, relentless voices—grew louder, mocking him, provoking him, and luring him into darker thoughts. His right eye began to glow like a flickering candle, and when he saw the fear on your face, the words that followed weren’t his own. They were driven by the unforgiving side of him he couldn’t control, a side that thrived on your terror. The beast that couldn’t be tamed.

She’s a traitor.

Punish her.

Hurt her.

Devour her.

While in a heated, dramatic exchange with you, Sylus was spewing words he didn’t mean. He was doing actions without regard. He was mocking your pain. Your jealousy. Your heartbreak. The drive to hurt you was strong in his head, but he fought desperately against it. The demon inside him that tried to consume his every thought. He tried to battle his own self just to protect you.

“I betrayed you because of her!”

His laughter died down, but the amusement in his eyes only deepened, replaced by the wicked smile on his face that enjoyed seeing you suffer. “It’s always been about her, hasn’t it? You see me with her, and you can’t stand it. It eats at you, makes you act out.”

You tried to move away, but Sylus pressed his foot firmly on your wrist. She betrayed you, Sylus. Punish her.

“I’ve seen your struggle,” he continued, his voice soft but laced with corrupt satisfaction. “The way you watched me with her, the way it gnaws at you. It’s almost poetic, really.”

It wasn’t until you reached for the gun on his nightstand, pointing it at yourself, that Sylus snapped out of his dark trance. The horror in his eyes was a stark contrast to the sorrowful shine in yours as you stood there, sobbing in front of him. Each word you spoke was tailed with the pain of a heart shattered by everything he had done and said.

“...All I wanted was your love,” you choked out with tears cascading down your face, “I j-just wanted you to love me. I turned my back on the H.A. for you. I left all my friends and family for you.” Your breathing was still for a moment, but your heart had already been blown into smithereens. “All I had was you. I loved you. I devoted all my body and soul into loving you, Sylus. Why c-can’t I have even a little bit in return?”

Even as his gaze softened and a flicker of regret passed across his face, you had already made your decision when your finger tightened on the trigger. The recoil jolted your wrist, but before the bullet could find its mark, Sylus’s hand shot out and expertly deflected your aim. Instead of ending your life, the bullet shattered a window, ricocheting off the glass and disappearing into the night.

“Are you out of your mind?!” Sylus roared, his voice a thunderous mix of fury and disbelief.

You were barely responding to him as he cupped your cheeks and forced your lachrymose eyes to lock into his crimson ones. It was as though you had already resigned yourself to reality, that ending your own life would have been a better option than being with the man you hopelessly loved.

“Y/N,” Sylus tried to shake you awake, desperate for you to look into his eyes. “Y/N! Enough. Let’s end this game.”

“...I was never playing one with you.”

Sylus was overwhelmed by a profound, indescribable pain that pierced his chest. It was a pain that mirrored yours but was infinitely more intense. “I warned you many times before to never fall in love with me,” he said in a low, softened voice, “It’s for the best, and it’s what will keep you safe. Why don’t you listen?” He longed to pull you into his arms, but the crushing reality was that he only now realized how deeply he cared for you. It was devastating that his awakening had come at the cost of your near-suicide, forced by a love he was unable to return.

Was it truly too late for him to come to terms with his feelings for you? Was it too late to accept that he had fallen in love with you rather than the woman he believed he was meant to be with?

His answer came in the form of a gut-wrenching realization. It manifested in the frantic voice of Diana—the woman he believed he loved, piercing through the haze of his thoughts by yelling, “Sylus, step back!”

“No!” he shouted, his black-red mist swirling to intercept the bullet.

But his efforts came too late. The bullet had already been set in motion, and it tore through the side of your head.

It penetrated your skull with a cruel precision, not just once but twice. And the warmth of your blood seeped through his fingers as he caught your head before you fell onto the floor.

Sylus’s mind raced with the enormity of what had just happened. His face grew ashen as he looked at your bloodied head and lifeless eyes, a wave of acid welling up his chest until he couldn’t breath. But the reason for his suffocation was because of his own guilt and grief. It was at the force of a sledgehammer when he was hit with the admission that he had always been in love with you. All along, despite your tangled mess, it was you who had captured his heart in this world.

His chest tightened, his breaths coming in ragged, broken bursts, while he held you close in his arms. And your last three words, your very last words of “I… love… you…” as you stared despairingly at him was icing on this bitter cake.

No… no!

He couldn’t fucking accept it. He was losing his mind, he was going insane. He was plunging into madness. Utter hysteria. “Y/N, please,” he begged, his voice breaking as your eyes, once full of life and light, were now glazed over with the sheen of death. “Don’t leave. No, I can’t let this happen!” For the first time in a long time, he once again felt hot tears leaving his eyes. It was an emotion so rare it only ever showed toward the people he deeply cared about. “I love you too,” he struggled to say. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said back there.”

Sylus held you close, disregarding the blood staining his clothes while he was consumed by agony and regret. He had driven you to this, pushed you away, and then drawn you back into his orbit only to lose you forever.

Though he may have conquered your heart, in doing so, he had only destroyed the both of you. The memory of your love and the warmth of your touch would haunt him for the rest of his days. And as he held your lifeless body, he knew that he would never be whole again.

But it shouldn’t be too late. No, it shouldn’t! He didn’t know if it was the hysteria or adrenaline kicking into him, but he had thought of an idea—no matter how immoral—that would return you back to him. He just couldn’t weigh which strong emotion he had to deal with first; should he grab the gun and shoot Diana out of anger? Or should he ignore her presence entirely and just focus on you?

Sylus chose to proceed with the latter as he carried you through the corridors of the base, his steps heavy with guilt and his shirt drenched in blood as you remained unconscious in his arms. The hunter girl had followed him in his spiritless steps, her eyes wide with confusion over his anguish.

“Sylus, why are you doing this?!” she demanded, grabbing his arm to halt his progress. “She would’ve killed you. That girl’s a traitor!”

Although he stopped in his tracks, he couldn’t really return her gaze. His eyes could only look at your lifeless ones. “That girl you shot in the head,” he spoke low and in despair, “is my woman.”

Diana was horrified. “But… but you never said—” Before she could finish, the twins intervened, holding her back from pursuing Sylus further. “What about me?”

He had already turned away. “I’ll fulfill my promise to protect you from afar, but this is where our paths part. Do not come near me again.”

Sylus stood over your unconscious body, his eyes bloodshot and tears-streaked, while his heart pounded with a mix of grief and desperation. He had summoned Philip and the finest surgeons he knew to his hideout, where you lay in a medical bed, exposed and vulnerable, as if you were a subject in a desperate experiment.

Philip arrived with a grim expression, his eyes scanning the scene with both skepticism and professional detachment. Sylus could barely contain his desperation as he demanded, “Do everything you can to save her. Even if it means infusing a high-grade protocore in her brain.” After all, he had plenty of that. Sylus had all the resources, protocores of the highest grade, each with their own purpose and capabilities.

Yet Philip hesitated, his face contorting with concern. “Mr. Sylus, you know I can’t do this. She’s gone. The best thing to do is accept—”

That was when Sylus’s composure cracked. He kicked the nearby chair out of rage, tears streaming down his face as he begged, “You’ve done it before. Do it again! Please, I need her to live!”

The sight of Sylus, usually so imposing and dominant, breaking down in front of him was shocking. Philip felt a pang of sympathy toward the Onychinus boss who was willing to do everything for a woman who was already dead. His hands trembled as he spoke, “I-I can try. But I’m warning you, Mr. Sylus… even if she survives this, there’s zero chance her memories will be the same. They may even become altered, and it will be out of our control.”

Sylus’s gaze never left you. “I don’t mind. Just do it.”

Weeks later, Sylus found himself in a secluded alleyway, meeting with a deepspace hunter who was also an enemy of his from another planet. Of course, the atmosphere was tense as both men stood in front of each other, eye-to-eye, carrying a defensive stance from one another.

They were never friends. But that day, they weren’t enemies either.

“How’s she?” Xavier broke the silence first.

Sylus answered with a low voice. “She hasn’t woken up, but she’s stable.”

“Why’d you ask to meet?”

“I want you to look after her,” the Onychinus leader began, his voice steady but carrying an undertone of desperation, “Speak to the Association about taking Y/N back and forgiving her for her betrayal. In return, I’ll step away from Diana’s life. She’s all yours. I just want Y/N to return to her normal life.”

Xavier’s expression was serious. “You’re forgetting you still have a bounty on your head.”

“And you’re forgetting you and your backtrackers destroyed the planet where I was living,” he replied in equal disdain, but only enough to trap Xavier into a wall of guilt and obligation.

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Lumiere—or, in his current form, the deepspace hunter, Xavier. “The HIS will be easy to convince. But what if she wakes up and wants to go back to the N109 Zone?”

Sylus felt a tug of deep sadness pulling at his heart. “She won’t. Her memories of me are gone for good.”

If this was his karma for hurting you, then it was definitely the worst kind.

Sylus maintained a distant watch over you after you returned to Linkon, observing from afar as you rejoined your life with the support of the Hunter’s Association and former colleagues. Each day, he sent Mephisto to monitor your whereabouts, carefully tracking your interactions and daily activities. The mechanical crow often returned with glimpses of your life, which Sylus scrutinized with intense focus as if he were watching a movie. Each glimpse offered him a sense of relief, happiness even, at knowing how easy you were settling back into your old life.

You had been officially dismissed from the Hunter’s Association due to a medical condition that rendered you unfit for duty, but they continued to cover your pension and provided free lodging—likely thanks to Xavier’s persuasive influence over the Association. The official story was that you had been sent on a dangerous mission where a Wanderer had placed you in a life-threatening predicament. The narrative praised your honor and dedication to the end. There was no mention of Sylus, Onychinus, or the N109 Zone. No hint of the life you had once led or the truth behind your memory erasure.

Yet, in a bitter twist of irony, perhaps the story you were told may not actually be farther from the truth.

After all, Sylus was the dangerous monster that sent you to that life-and-death situation.

But at least now, you were well cared for. So much so that Sylus fought to contain his jealousy whenever Mephisto’s eyes relayed visions of you sharing lunch with a physician named Dr. Zayne. He struggled to mask his irritation as he saw the man drape an arm around your shoulders while guiding you out of the hospital or wrapping a scarf around your neck to keep you warm. He would often even drive you home and send you gifts that were masked as tokens of “recovery.”

Bullshit.

Sylus clenched his fist, his thoughts of jealousy consuming him. My girl, he thought in despair, my beautiful girl is cherished by other men, while he remained imprisoned in the desolate shadows of the N109 Zone, longing for you.

Eventually, Sylus felt an overwhelming urge to see you in person. After discovering that you had taken a job at a café in Bloomshore District, he convinced himself that observing you from a distance wouldn’t cause harm. He just wanted to be near you, to ensure your safety, and to protect you from any potential threats.

As he sat on a nearby bench, Luke joined him with a comment. “Boss, you said we needed to disappear from her life.”

Kieran, taking a seat on Sylus’s other side, added, “Do you think she’d recognize us if we walked into that café? If she doesn’t, I’ll give her a hard time with my orders ‘til she remembers us!”

“Ha ha! Let’s do that!”

“Boss, let’s go!”

“Leave her be.” Sylus took a deep breath, adjusting his sunglasses and setting aside his newspaper—part of his disguise—as he watched you through the café window. He noticed the subtle traces of familiarity in your actions, but the connections that once bound you were now distant memories. “...I’m just here to make sure no one’s bothering her.”

The truth was, he wrestled with his emotions each time he visited the café you were working at. He wanted to approach you, to speak to you, but he hesitated each time because of the fear of rejection and the pain of seeing you not remember him holding him back. There were so many what-ifs in his head that it drove him insane to think about.

Because if anything, what if you were already seeing someone else? What if you were already in a relationship with that scumbag doctor from the Akso Hospital?

It was petty jealousy that drove Sylus into stepping into the café. And the first time your eyes met since you resurrected, his heart initially froze, then raced uncontrollably. His heart swelled with hope as you looked up at him, but it was quickly replaced by the lack of recognition in your eyes the moment you spoke from the counter.

“Hi. What can I get you?” you asked, treating him no differently than any other customer.

Sylus was caught off-guard, but he knew he had to play the part. “I, uh, I’ll get an Americano. Large.”

“Alright, sir. And your name, please?” you asked, following your routine without any real interest in the man before you.

But in a way, this was a relief for Sylus. It confirmed that the protocore embedded in your head was functioning as intended, and that any dark memories from the past had been completely erased, even if it meant he was no longer part of your life.

“Skye,” he said with a soft smile. “That’s my name.”

There wasn’t a single day Sylus missed visiting the café.

At first, he worried that his constant presence might seem odd, or that you might think of him as a stalker. But as the days passed, seeing you became an essential part of his routine. A day without catching a glimpse of you felt incomplete, almost maddening. Seeing you was like a drug he couldn’t get enough of.

Initially, you found his regular visits a bit strange, but gradually, the small interactions between you two evolved. Sylus began to appear at the café just when you needed him most—whether it was fixing a broken coffee machine, addressing rude customers, or simply offering a helping hand. These acts of kindness somehow transformed your view of him. What started as a customer-service relationship slowly became more personable, and in recent days, you often greeted him warmly and smiled whenever he walked in. If only you knew how badly it warmed his heart that he got to do things for you without making him feel like he was intruding in your life.

And to be honest, Sylus even felt like he might be—as Luke termed it—foolishly ”crushing” on you.

“Who knew our boss-man could be a hopeless romantic~?”

There was a time when he visited the café, only to find out from your manager that you called in sick from work. Sylus knew where you lived, but going to your place uninvited was a different story. He had to put some boundaries no matter how worried he was for you. But that was when Mephisto became useful; the mechanical crow would simply fly off to your place and observe you from outside. Then, an idea to drop a box of medicines and chocolates at your balcony was something he had thought of at the last minute.

Back in the N109 Zone, Sylus anxiously looked at his crow. “Are you sure she didn’t see you?”

“Caw! Caw!”

“Did she eat the chocolates?” he asked, exhaling a deep breath he didn’t think he was holding.

“Caw! Caw! Caaaw!” Mephisto responded, fluttering its wings as if to reassure him.

And then, that day happened.

The day Sylus finally gathered the courage to ask you out, fate had other plans. And what began as a simple gesture to offer you a ride home during a stormy night quickly escalated into something far more intense.

Because one moment, he was offering you a ride. The next, he found himself in your bed, having the most passionate sex he had ever had with someone. He wasn’t even sure if he could call it that, because it felt more like he was making love to you, even if to you, he was probably just an attractive guy you unexpectedly hooked up with.

So, he had to make himself known. He had to hear his real name leaving your lips. “Sylus,” he breathed into your ear, hands tracing your curves, “Call me Sylus, kitten.”

That night, he was an insatiable man who could only be satisfied by his woman.

When he was buried far too deep inside you, he enjoyed the sight of ecstasy on your face and lavished at the sounds of your titillating moans with his every thrust. Not only did he miss the feeling of your walls tightening around his shaft, he also remembered how badly you used to want him to cum inside you.

And so, he did just that. At his climax, he released hot spurts of seed into your womb, fulfilling a wish from the past that he used to deprive you of.

But as the night progressed and the heat of the moment faded, the conversation shifted to a more profound and emotional terrain. Sylus wrestled with the urge to reveal the truth about his true identity—every painful detail and the secrets he kept from you. Yet, he knew that doing so would only complicate matters further and risk causing you more pain. The idea of hurting you again, after such a meaningful connection, was unbearable to him, especially now that you were still fragile as glass, ready to shatter at any moment.

“Why do I get the feeling that I was the one who experienced a one-sided love before?”

“No, you were loved. You were very loved. There was no one else,” he pressed, forcing you to believe the narrative with his rueful eyes staring back at you. “I was the one who wasn’t worthy of you… But I’d like to try and win your heart again this time. If you allow it.”

“Sylus… I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry for not recognizing you before. I just… I lost a chunk of my memories, and I don’t know if it’s been altered or what, but…” He caressed your back as you took a deep breath. “I’ll try to remember, okay?”

“Please don’t.” He shook his head, crestfallen as he thought of the past that was rightfully erased. “And there’s no need for apologies, sweetie. There wasn’t anything you did wrong.”

Your relationship with Sylus remained unclear since that night. And it seemed as though the roles had reversed—now he was the one left wondering where he stood in your life. Because on the surface, it did seem like you were willing to work on building a relationship with him again, but every encounter you two had were always physical rather than emotional.

Sylus found himself at your apartment frequently, three or more times a week, engaging in intense, passionate encounters. He had lost track of how many times you two could do it in a single night, exploring every possible position, in every corner of your home. He had tried his hardest to make you feel like he was the only man who was more familiar with every inch of your body than anyone else. Yet, despite the physical closeness, he sensed that the emotional barriers between you remained intact.

No matter how deeply intertwined your bodies became, the walls around your heart remained firmly in place, and Sylus knew that there was a part of you he still couldn’t reach.

That, and the fact that he was still seeing you interact a little too closely with that doctor from Akso.

It somehow didn’t surprise you when Sylus’s car showed up outside the hospital to pick you up, and you got on with a guarded look.

“How’s it for my kitten today?” Sylus asked as he secured your seatbelt, his lips brushing against yours in a quick peck. “You didn’t mention you’d be at the hospital.”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “Oh, I just... didn’t think I needed to inform you of my whereabouts.”

Dammit. He knew you weren’t officially together, but it hurt more than he cared to admit. And it didn’t help that Sylus’s pride couldn’t naturally take it, so he probed more. “That doctor. He’s not your neurologist, is he? It seems a little inappropriate for him to always be around you like that.”

“Well, I’ve known Zayne for a long time,” you merely replied, eyes focused on the view outside rather than the driver of the car. “I’d also appreciate it if you'd be less territorial over me, Sylus. I know you said we have a history together, but I don’t remember a thing, so… I hope you won’t rush me.”

The Sylus you knew back then would have been enraged. Who were you to order him around? Who were you to tell him what he should and shouldn’t do over someone he rightfully owned? But he was a changed man now, and it was all because of you. You were the beauty that tamed him into a powerless beast.

“I understand,” Sylus replied, swallowing his pride as his hands tightened around the steering wheel, focusing on the road ahead. “I apologize.”

He heard you sigh beside him, and a part of him wondered if it was out of sympathy. But before he could dwell on it, you spoke up, your tone more serious. “I was at the hospital today because I had a pregnancy scare.”

Sylus hit the brakes at the red light a bit too abruptly, his heart racing in excitement. “Are you?”

“No, thank God,” you breathed out in relief. “But... can you please stop doing it inside? I really don’t like it. It’s not smart for me to get pregnant by a man I barely know.”

His chest tightened in a way he couldn’t describe. The old you nearly begged him for a baby so he could be yours forever, but he was aware that this version of you right now was not the same. It never would be, and that was the price he had to pay for love.

“I won’t do it again.” Once again, swallowing his pride. “I’m sorry.”

You still invited him to sleep at your apartment that night, and your reason being to work on the memories of him you had lost. Time and time again did Sylus tell you it was better you didn’t remember them, but he could also understand your dilemma when you told him that you always felt like a piece of you was missing ever since that “accident”.

“And this ugly scar on my temple,” you pointed it out, settling into your side of the bed. “What kind of Wanderer did I fight for me to get a traumatic brain injury?”

Sylus placed a tender kiss on your scar. “Perhaps it was a heartless monster more terrifying than a Wanderer.”

Like me.

“Oh, well.” You pulled the sheets over your body, suggesting you two would have no action tonight. “Good night, Sylus.”

“...Sleep tight, kitten.”

You didn’t need to worry, though, because he wouldn’t have touched you even if you had explicitly asked him to. After hearing your words that afternoon—about not wanting to get pregnant by him and asking him to stop being so territorial—Sylus felt the need to pull back and be more cautious in his actions toward you. Your words had cut deep, but he understood you were only protecting yourself from a man who was, essentially, still a stranger to you.

And despite the sting, he had promised himself that he would be patient for the only woman he cared about.

However, that same night was a different story.

No, it was actually way past midnight when Sylus woke up from an agonizing scream that pierced the silence of the night, chilling him to the bone. Instinctively, his hand reached out to the side of the bed where you should have been, but the sheets were cold and empty. And then panic gripped him, forcing him to leap out of bed, his mind racing with a single horrifying thought: the protocore.

He darted outside of your bedroom and deeper into your apartment space, his eyes scanning every shadow, every corner. The image of you, eyes wild and frenzied, ravaged by the effects of the protocore, haunted him.

What if it’s happening now? What if I lose her for good?

The horrifying thought of the protocore making you berserk like a wild Wanderer was always there.

His heart nearly stopped when he saw you on the kitchen floor, curled up, your body wracked with sobs. Relief washed over him to have found you, but it was fleeting, replaced by a deeper, more insidious fear. He tried to approach you cautiously, his voice soft as he placed his hands on your shoulders, “Sweetie, are you okay?”

You flinched at his touch, and when you turned to face him, the sight made his blood run cold. Your eyes, usually so warm, were now wide and filled with tears—tears of terror, of anger. And in your trembling hand, you held a knife, its blade gleaming in the low light as you pointed it directly at his throat.

“Don’t come any closer!” you cried, your voice breaking at every word. Sylus froze, his breath catching in his throat as your sudden hostility surprised him. The knife’s tip hovered dangerously close to his skin, but it wasn’t the threat of violence that shook him—it was the raw, unfiltered pain in your eyes.

“Kitten, let’s talk about it calmly.” His voice was laced with cautiousness.

“Stop calling me that!” You swallowed hard, your grip on the knife tightening. “You! I had a nightmare... about you. But it felt real, like a memory. You were torturing me at your base, laughing... and then, you shot me in the head.”

Sylus’s heart dropped into his stomach at hearing your altered memory. He felt his soul tear apart at the edges as he stared into your tear-streaked face. “It was just a dream. It wasn’t real, kitten.”

But you weren’t listening. “But is it also not real? That you…” You uttered each word with a threatening voice, “are the boss of Onychinus?”

The question hit him like a physical blow. He opened his mouth to answer, but the words were stuck in his throat and refused to form. He was trapped. The situation felt like a dead end—he could deny that your dream was a real memory, but admitting he was the leader of Onychinus would only validate that lie.

His silence alone was an answer to you. And your expression crumbled into one of betrayal at that. “You lied to me! You’ve been lying to me this whole time. How am I supposed to believe anything you say now?”

The anger in your voice enforced the stillness of Sylus’s breath. He knew he had no saving grace from this situation, but still, he took a step closer, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Y/N, I never wanted to hurt you—”

“Get out!” you screamed, the knife shaking in your hand. The sight of you so broken, so shattered, tore him apart. “Get the hell out of my sight! I don’t wanna see you ever again, you monster!”

But Sylus couldn’t leave—not like this, not when you were hurting because of him. So in his desperation, he lunged forward, grabbed your wrist, and forced the knife into his own chest. The sharp pain radiated through him as he plunged the blade in and stabbed himself repeatedly, his face twisted in agony, but not from the physical pain. This was nothing compared to the torment of knowing he was the source of your suffering. Again.

“Even if I can’t die,” he choked out, his voice ragged as he tried to absorb the stinging ache in his chest, “I’ll take all of this pain away from you.”

His own blood soaked his fingers, staining your hands as he released his grip on the knife. It fell on the floor as he stepped back, his heart aching more than his wounds ever could, but those wounds easily healed. The pain of losing you again, on the other hand, would never heal.

He looked at you one last time, seeing his monstrous reflection from your frightened eyes, before turning away. Sylus walked out of the apartment with heavy steps, feeling his soul crushed from your antagonism. He knew he had lost you—perhaps forever—and the realization was more than he could bear.

A haze of cigarette smoke and the clink of glasses filled the air of the bar. Sylus sat alone at the counter, his new glass of whiskey untouched as he stared blankly into the amber liquid. The sting of alcohol was nothing compared to the numbness that had settled in his heart after that agonizing night with you. Every swallow of the hard liquor was a desperate attempt to drown out the torment of recent events, but the pain lingered, and it was damn persistent and unforgiving.

As he poured himself another drink, the muffled sounds of conversation around him blended into a dull roar. That was until a familiar voice cut through the haze—someone he wished he hadn’t come across.

“Sylus?”

He looked up, squinting against the dim light, to see Diana standing before him. He hadn’t seen him for the past year or so. And surely, her presence was unexpected, but he felt a sudden tinge of irritation at the sight of her. While her, she looked both apprehensive and determined, as if she had just made a hard decision to confront him.

“H-How have you been?” she asked the question as a conversation starter, but Sylus could see the faint hint of unease in her eyes.

He then straightened up, and his posture became stiff and defensive. “I told you it’s not wise for us to cross paths,” he said curtly, his voice slurred from the alcohol but still holding a note of finality. He didn’t want to engage, not with her, not tonight.

On the one hand, Diana’s eyes flickered with an emotion he couldn’t quite place—regret, perhaps. “I… I wanted to say sorry for what happened with Y/N. I didn’t realize how much she meant to you. Xavier… told me everything. About you and her.”

The apology was genuine, but the mention of your name was a fresh wound, and he felt the anger and sadness surge again, bubbling beneath his carefully maintained exterior. He wanted to lash out, to blame her for everything, but he swallowed the words, knowing it wouldn’t change a thing. In the end, this was all his doing and he couldn’t point fingers over the mess that he alone had created.

Sylus tried to stand up, the room spinning slightly as he steadied himself. “I’m leaving.”

But Diana stepped closer, her hand reaching out as if to stop him. He simply brushed past her, his movements unsteady but undeniably distancing from her. The desire to remain composed was slipping away, replaced by the harsh reality he faced every day since you were taken from him.

He made his way to the exit, pushing through the bar’s heavy door with a forceful shove. Sylus’s next move was to lean against the wall outside as the cool winter breeze blew on his face.

“Boss.” Kieran’s voice held a note of concern as he and his twin steadied Sylus by wrapping his arms around their shoulders. “We’ll take you home.”

Luke glanced at his brother with a sad glint in his eyes before leading Sylus toward the car. “Maybe it’s time to let her go, boss.”

February nights were the coldest. And it was supposedly the day for lovers, too.

Unlike the couples that littered the riverside, Sylus stood alone, his breath forming small clouds in the frigid air. His dark coat offered little protection against the biting wind, but he stayed committed, his gaze fixed on the empty expanse before him. Four hours had passed since he had sent you the message, and each minute he stood there waiting for you felt like an eternity. The biting cold gnawed at him, but he was determined to wait even if he’d end up getting frostbite. It was the least he could do.

The frozen river’s surface glistened with a thousand points of light as the moon cast its silver glow over the landscape. And for the next thirty minutes that passed, he was still alone.

She won’t be coming, said the voice in his head. Give up.

As he prepared to leave, the ache of disappointment settled in his chest, and his heart skipped a beat as he recognized you, standing cautiously across him, your eyes wide and filled with both curiosity and trepidation. The sight of you, despite waiting in the cold for hours, instantly warmed his freezing body.

“Thank you for coming.” He took a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. “I won’t keep you long.”

You maintained your distance, wary of his next move. “Why did you want to meet?”

With a slow, deliberate motion, he began to peel the scarf from around your neck, and he felt a prick in his heart seeing you flinch. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He waited until you allowed him to proceed, his fingers brushing against your skin in a touch that was both gentle and reverent. You looked at him with confusion, the chilly air fought by the warmth of your breath. Sylus was just carefully replacing the scarf with the necklace he had given you long ago, the red Beryl crystal catching the light and sending soft, radiant glimmers into the night.

Do you even recognize it?

“I’m just returning a gift, kitten.”

As he fastened the clasp behind your neck, he pressed a tender kiss to the nape of your neck, his lips lingering for a moment before he straightened. That small gesture of his was actually carried by the depth of his affection and regret. And, if you may, it was his silent apology for all that he did to you.

“Sylus…”

His red eyes shimmered, intensified by the bloodshot whites. Sylus stared at your face with a mixture of love and ruefulness clouding his expression. He was looking at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. And he struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to spill, with his voice breaking as he feathered the snowflakes that rested on your hair. “Take care of yourself. Always lock your doors at night and stay warm.” He took the scarf Zayne gave you, and pulled out a new one from his coat. It was a silly scarf with kitten prints all over it, that he soon carefully wrapped around your face and neck. “Wear that whenever you can.”

Your own eyes were large and rimmed with tears as though you were also hurting inside. “Why are you saying this?” you asked, keeping the weakness inside. “You sound like you’re saying goodbye.”

Sylus’s gaze was suddenly directed back to the river, but it was only because he had to avoid looking at your eyes or he would lose it. “The Association managed to track me here in Linkon and they’re still after me. I just managed to escape, but I can’t stay here,” he explained calmly, “I only came back to this city because of you… But now, I have to disappear, so don’t worry about having me around. I won’t bother you anymore.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and the tears that had been pooling your eyes finally spilled over. “Are you crazy?” you cried, seemingly unable to comprehend the words he was spewing. “You’re leaving me?”

Sylus’s heart broke at the sight of your tears, but he had to restrain any weakness by giving in. Instead, he reached out, and his hand trembled as he wiped a tear from your cheek. “I love you, Y/N.” He wanted to be the first one to say it this time. “Even if you regain all your memories of me—good or bad—I want you to know that I regret every pain I caused you. Even if you hate me, I’ll still love you. Today, tomorrow, and in our next lives.”

Sylus took one last, lingering look at you, his eyes filled with a sorrowful haze that nearly blinded his vision. He turned slowly, walking away from the river’s edge, with each step causing distance from the love he was leaving behind.

And you, you stood there, the necklace around your neck feeling heavy as you watched him disappear into the night. A surge of emotion overwhelmed you, and without thinking, you sprinted towards him. You took quick, long strides just to reach him, pulling him into a tight embrace, and crashing your lips against his in a bittersweet kiss.

Both of you cried as the kiss deepened, and you were encasing each other’s lips in a tight lock. The intensity of your emotions poured out in this poignant, intimate moment. And frankly, Sylus had never been this emotional. No one had ever seen this fragile side of him that he had always kept hidden. After all, what dominant, cruel boss of Onychinus would spill tears over a woman?

But they wouldn’t understand it. They never would.

When you finally pulled away, your eyes were red and swollen from tears. “Be careful,” you sniffled, barely unable to catch the breath you needed for the next. “Keep in touch if you can. And when I’m ready, I’ll find you.”

Sylus’s eyes were also filled with tears, but he managed a forlorn smile as he nodded. He reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle despite the heaviness of the moment. “I’ll wait,” he promised softly, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

“Until we meet again.”

As he stepped back, the distance between you seemed impossibly vast, but the promise in your eyes and the love in his heart made the separation bearable, if only just. And when Sylus turned away, his heart was heavy but full of the hope that one day, you would find each other again. That one day, this distant love would become a cherished memory that you would look back on as you grow old and wrinkled, yet insurmountably happy and content with the life you had lived. With or without him.

PREVIOUS PART

#love and deepspace x reader #love & deepspace x reader #lads x reader #lads x you #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x yn #lds x reader #l&ds x reader #l&ds x you #sylus angst #sylus fanfic #l&ds sylus

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celestie0 · 8 months ago

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gojo satoru x reader | oneshot angst [18+]

title. let me be free of you

He would live in this lifetime of hell over and over again if it meant that in some other one, there exists a world where he never hurts you.

ᰔ pairing. friends to strangers au - best friend!gojo x reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru, your love of a lifetime, tells you he’s engaged to another woman. inspired by the novel & netflix series “one day” created by david nicholls

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem!reader, angst, mentions of sex/explicit content, coming of age themes, reader & gojo are in their 30s, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of alcohol, cheating, lots of mutual pining & longing, bittersweet ending

ᰔ word count. 4.8k

a/n. hellooo! i've had this finished in my wips folder for a long time but never got around to posting it sooo just wanted to let it see the light of day haha. hope you enjoyyy <33

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“I’m engaged.”

The words leave Gojo’s lips as much less of a confession and more like a blabber, like a toddler desperate to keep conversation going in the face of a disinterested adult. Wasn’t how he expected to share the news of a lifetime to the love of his lifetime, but he hopes it breaks your heart to hear it.

He watches your eyebrows flatten from the crease that was bothering them before, and then slowly raise into soft arches above your eyes–those damn beautiful eyes that, even when they twinkle with hurt, still make his heart skip a beat in his chest.

He recalls for a moment the night the two of you met, drunk and dizzy from drinking out of a shared bottle of Prosecco, which only had half of the liquor left in it to start when he had first found it bleeding out to dry on the grassy lawn at the front of your university. It was graduation night, the last day to celebrate finishing four years of hell, and he had nothing to his name other than a rolled up diploma shoved in the pocket of his suit pants and the charm left in the youth of his smile. He wanted to spend the night with Aiko Rei, which was not a unique desire as most men on campus did, and he had a fair shot of getting into bed with her just like all those times before. But instead he was sitting at the top of a staircase inside the campus’s English literature building, making history in the crisp year of 1986 by being the first man of the robust age of twenty-three to pass up sex with the school’s lady heartthrob for–well, conversation with a sort of ditsy girl that he just met a half hour ago.

“What do you plan to do with your life?” he heard you ask him, a hard enough question to stomach when one is sober, and an impossible question to stomach when one is already trying not to puke flat Prosecco.

“Pardon?” he asked, in hopes to dissuade you from the question. In hopes that you’d get the hint. But you don’t. And he’d soon learn throughout the years of your friendship to come that you never did.

“Your life!” you exclaim, “we’re graduates now! What do you want to do with it?” You pat harshly at his thigh, closer to his groin than to his pocket, most likely because you’re tipsy too, but he realizes you’re referring to the rolled up paper protruding at the pocket.

Truthfully, Gojo had never thought much about what he wanted to do after graduation. Hell, he didn’t even think he’d make it this far. Not once since he got here, not once since he flunked out of first-year history, not once since his father passed away during his third-year final examinations, and most certainly not after he got caught having “unethical affairs” with his communications professor just two months ago. And yet the esteemed board of scholars decided he was fit for a diploma anyway, and now he’s answering to, effectively, a stranger what he plans to do with said piece of paper.

“I don’t know,” he says to you, “I’ll do whatever.”

Gojo Satoru could get by with doing whatever. He was good at everything he did. But his teachers and mentors and his own father would always warn him– son, it’s better to be an expert at one than a half-assed show-off in all. Well, they wouldn’t use the expletives, but that’s what it had sounded like in his head.

His dad would’ve liked you. He was always telling him to find a girl that challenges him, asks him the right questions, and pushes him to become a better man, the kind of woman his mother was to his father. Much opposed to the airheaded girls of Gojo’s college campus he would sneak into the house and forget to shoo off before sunrise, an occurrence that happened enough times for the respect in his father’s eyes to dwindle with each woman he’d watch his son dispel from their residence. Until eventually, Gojo started paying rent as punishment.

So, twenty-three year old Gojo, what do you plan to do with your life? Or do you have no idea of anything that extends beyond where you are right now, sitting across this strange girl you’ve just met on the death of your educational youth, at the top of a stairwell lined with passed out, drunk newly grads at nearly 4 in the morning? Right now, he’s eyeing the hem of your dress, the way it’s ridden up slightly but the mesh overskirt still tickles the skin of your thigh. He’s certainly able to picture what’s beyond that fabric, and maybe imagine the color of your panties, but what’s to come for his life? No. As previously mentioned, he never thought he’d get this far.

Gojo is thirty-four now, eleven years since that night the two of you met. And he sits next to you on a garden bench under a pitch black sky with stars speckled across, but only dimly visible.

It’s been years since he’s seen you. You two had a “falling out” at the cusp of thirty, almost a decade of friendship fizzled away, because of his selfish actions. He couldn’t let you go, but he couldn’t want you the way you wanted him either. He didn’t feel like he deserved to have you. You were too good for him, and he knew it. So he wasted a decade chasing after other women, and in return, he lost the one he knew he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with.

It’s the night of your college roommate‘s wedding, all gathered here today to celebrate their love, and he knew he’d run into you here. You were the bride’s maiden of honor, and you looked beautiful. With your hair half tied up, a pretty clip twinkling with every movement of your head, and with strands falling down over the smooth curve of your neck, bare skin of your chest tightly covered by the nude fabric of your dress. He was fully lusting after you, and he has been all night, the picture of beauty and grace, and it was wrong. Because, again, he’s–

“You’re engaged?” you finally break through his thoughts, break through the trance that he was lost in by the sea of your eyes. Forever pulling him in like you were a wicked siren for his soul, when all you’ve ever wanted from him was his love.

He shifts a little, the thick fabric of his navy blue suit stretching with the movement as he fidgets with his hands in his lap. He’s sitting close to you, his shoulder brushing against yours, the contrast of his broad masculinity so evident against the feminine curve of your bare arm, the thin strap holding up your dress threatening to fall down the hill. His thumb twitches, because he wants to pull it back up into place for you like a gentleman, but he’s not sure if that’s what his hand would actually do. Because all he really wants to do is peel the dress off of you.

“Yes,” he says, still tantalized by the glow of your skin under pale moonlight, “engaged.”

“To be married?”

“Well, what other kind of engaged is there?”

“You’re not allowed to get married.”

He snorts. “Says who?”

“Says me!” you exclaim, sitting up straighter, "I turn my back for one moment, and you've gone an got engaged? You're awful!" The strap of your dress falls down over your shoulder, his eyes immediately darting to it. He sees you pull the strap up back into place, and a flit of his eyes to your face reveals to him the slight dusting of an embarrassed pink to your cheeks.

There’s a silence that settles between the two of you. Distant commotion is heard, likely from the wedding venue as people engage in reception activities and dances and cheers, while the two of you remain in this garden escape, the wall of primly trimmed bushes sheltering you two from having to pretend to be people you’re not amongst a crowd.

“Aiko…” he hears you say beside him, and although the name of the woman that has rolled off your tongue is the name of the woman he’s supposed to love, it only makes him feel sick to his stomach to hear you say her name. “She seems lovely.”

“She is,” is all he can manage to say. And he also knows this seemingly lovely woman is probably drunk off her face back at the reception hall, giggling at all the men that approach her from the sight of her flushed face, and he should feel some sort of jealousy or possessiveness over that, but he can’t seem to muster any. Unlike the grit he had to his jaw an hour ago when he saw you dancing with a man he heard you introduce to your friends as just an “old friend” of yours from college. He felt more anger in that moment than he’d ever felt watching his soon-to-be-wife getting talked up to by the sleazy men twice her age.

“She must be very rich,” you say. “She looks it.”

“Oh. Yeah. Her family’s very well off,” Gojo says.

“So will you become rich too?” you ask him, “when you marry her.”

His eyes flit to the sky briefly. “Doubt it.”

“How come?”

“The old man doesn’t like me very much. I imagine he’ll cut ties after the wedding.”

“Her father?”

“Yes.”

“And why is that?”

“Well. I guess it’s not every father’s dream to find out his prim and proper daughter’s been knocked up by the good-for-nothing boyfriend he’s been threatening her to say good riddance to for months now.”

The silence finds the two of you again, but this time haunting and gutting. That was a blabber, if anything. So nonchalantly said, with no emotion or spirit, to the one person in this world who he’s always felt like he can be himself around.

“She’s pregnant?” you say beside him, voice breaking slightly at the end, and he can’t bear to look at you for some reason. Some sort of admission of guilt, but what for? What exactly was he repenting for?

He lets out a small laugh, like the absurdity of the situation finds him all the same. “Yeah.”

“That–” you start, stiff next to him, before he feels the tension relax but only rigidly, “that’s wonderful, Satoru. I’m–...I’m really happy for you.” You turn your torso to wrap your arms around him, and his lips brush the sweet skin on your forehead as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He wraps one arm around you, a sort of friendly hug as he rubs the skin of your arm soothingly, and his heart aches from the emptiness when you release him.

“Wow…” you say, looking up at him with pretty eyes, eyelashes fluttering as you blink rapidly to process the information, and he wonders if you really are happy for him. He doesn’t want you to be. He wants you to be furious, to tell him off for getting another woman pregnant after leading you on for so many years, maybe he wants you to slap him, or grab him by the collar of his shirt and shake him until all he sees is a million of you through dizzy vision like some paradise. He wants you to be mad, because it’d mean that you still care. It’d mean that you still think there’s something here to salvage between the two of you.

But he’s engaged. And he’s having a baby. What was more final than that?

“So…are you marrying her because of–”

“The wedding is in four weeks,” he cuts you off, but he knows the statement answers your question regardless.

“Satoru…”

He leans off to the side a little to reach into the pocket of his suit pants, and he pulls out what is now a slightly bent envelope and he hands it to you. You take it from him gently, holding it weakly like it was something beyond you. Like something distant and foreign and strange. When all it was, is a wedding invitation.

“Listen…” he starts.

He sees your eyes dazed as you stare at the lettering on the outside of the envelope.

“We’ve been friends for a long time, y/n. And I know the last time we saw each other was–” Hostile. Angry. Disappointing. Ended with you cussing him out on the street and then saying you never want to see him again. “...not ideal, but I still care a lot about you, and, uh, so, it would mean a lot to me if you came to the wedding.” For fucks sake, even on the brink of losing you forever, he still can’t find the right words to say. “Aiko, she–” He tastes bitter in his mouth, “well, I’ve told her a lot about you, and she’d really love it if you came as well.”

You’re silent as you gently peel back the opening of the letter and then pull out the small card stock invitation. The gold printed letters shine as you inspect it, fingers tracing the patterns of words that profess the Rei family’s intent to wed their daughter to Gojo Satoru. Your Gojo Satoru. Your best friend in this whole wide world. He watches your eyes carefully, but he can’t discern what he finds in them.

“Gojo Satoru…” you drone off, “to be wed. And to be a father.” Years of late night talks of the future, of kids and Christmas and love, with reality seemingly sly on the horizon only to have crept up so abruptly. It was pinched between your fingers right now. That reality.

His shoulders sulk slightly. And when you look up at him again, there’s a sheen of tears in your eyes.

“I can’t come to this,” you whisper, “and you know that, Satoru.”

His heart breaks. A physical pain that twists in his chest so tight at just the sight of seeing you sad. Sad again over the actions of his own. They say you always hurt the one you love, and he had always wondered what sort of evil person would do such a thing, only to find out he’s only ever hurt you this entire time.

He should’ve kissed you that night the two of you met at graduation. Should’ve shut you up and all your existential questions by pinning you to a wall and pressing his lips against yours. He should’ve taken you to bed and fucked you, and then held you in his arms until you woke up in the morning. Should’ve listened to you talk his ear off about how he’s just like all the other guys, who pretend to care, but only want to have sex and then never to speak to the girl ever again. And he should’ve laid there in bed, nose nuzzled in your hair, taking all the scolding despite having no intent to ever leave you.

Instead, he wasted so much time. Sure, he had your friendship. His best friend for years, but the two of you could’ve been something more. Could’ve spent the years together, instead of writing stained letters or leaving messages on answering machines while the two of you were miles away. He could’ve been waking up with you every morning with the scent of your shampoo on his sheets, instead of clinging to pillows in foreign motel rooms. He could’ve been engaged to you, and he could be whispering sweet nothings in your ear of how much he wishes the baby will have your eyes.

But his thoughts are lost in fantasy. He is what he’s done, nothing more and nothing less. His eyes fall to your lap, the invitation still held loosely in your hand, and then a droplet of water falls onto it.

“I–” you stutter, wiping at the tears spilling down your cheeks with a hesitant swipe of your hand, “I need to go.”

You stand up off the bench and he quickly stands up with you, grabbing your wrist to keep you here with him, and you halt but only with you facing away from him. He yanks at your wrist harshly, pulling you into him so his chest is flush to your back, his arms wrapping strongly around you and his nose nuzzling into your hair, breathing you in greedily like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance.

“Satoru–” you gasp, your hands immediately grabbing at his forearms that are tightly crossed across your collarbone. “What are you doing–”

“Say it,” he whispers, gruff and impatient, “tell me to do it, and I will.”

“T-Tell you to do what?” you stutter, struggling a little in his hold but he only holds you tighter.

“Tell me to leave her, and I will,” he says, his lips brushing at your ear now, the scent of your perfume maddening to his senses, and one of his hands slowly trails down and the knuckle of his thumb presses into the softness of your breast.

You squirm, a small and soft moan leaving your lips.

“T–” you breathe in harshly, “this is wrong.”

“I don’t care,” he growls, arms sliding lower to hold you under your breasts, so tightly that your heels lift off the ground. “Just say the word, and I’ll leave everything behind for you. I promise,” he breathes in deep, the desperation making his head hazy, “that I’ll do things right this time. Just you and me–”

“You’re going to be a father,” you remind him, and he shuts his eyes closed tightly, the responsibility of the word bearing on his shoulders but his desire for you overshadows every shred of sense or dignity or integrity he has left in him, because he felt like he was losing his mind after wanting you for years just to never have you.

He turns you around in his hold so that you face him, and he crashes his lips to yours, muffling the surprised mmf! that dies in your throat in surprise as his hands hold your waist, relishing in the feeling of satin fabric pulled taut over your curves.

Forbidden, yet a taste that he’ll risk because there was no curse that was worse than the fate of having to pine after you for years.

Ah.

But.

But it was all fantasy, this moment in his head, where he takes you on the freshly cut grass of this garden.

Something that only briefly flashes through his mind as his warm hand wraps around your wrist, from where he was still seated on the stone bench, and not on his feet holding you like he dreamed for. Like he longed for.

He feels the weight of his arm so heavily, as if it weren’t his own, and he slowly lets go of your wrist.

When he looks up at you, there’s longing in your eyes. A hurt that he didn’t even know he was capable of causing, just for him to realize that you’ve always looked at him that way, and he’s never been keen enough to know it until now. He grew up too late. He took too long.

His phone starts buzzing in his pocket, and he reaches in for it, then flips it open and sees his soon-to-be-wife’s name on it. He feels nothing at the sight.

“Hello?” he speaks into the device when he holds it to his ear, and he sees you take a couple steps away, rubbing anxiously at your elbow as you pretend to busy yourself with the study of the lamp. “Yes, I’ll be there soon. I, uh, I’m just with a friend. A couple of friends, actually. We’re having drinks by the pond. Mhm. Yes. I will. Okay, see you soon. I—…I love you too. Bye.” And then he snaps the phone shut.

“Heading back?” he hears you ask.

He stands. “I’ve got to.”

“Okay.”

You two walk down the shrubbery of the garden that was arranged like a maze, him a few paces behind you, and he watches the delicate line of your posture as your hand brushes against the green walls of foliage that encase the two of you, the feeling of wanting to touch you and hold you almost suffocating.

“Hey,” he calls out to you, and he shoves his hands in his suit pockets. You turn around immediately to face him, like his voice was permission to do so.

“Yes?” you ask.

He blinks up at the starry sky, and then looks at you again. The soft cast of distant warm lighting falls over your face, making you appear like a renaissance painting, similar to those that you would point out to him at museums when you two would see each other on holiday back in your early twenties. He could never understand the charm of those paintings, no matter how many times you tried to explain it to him, but seeing you in this light right now, he finally understands the beauty that you saw.

“I’m, uh,” he rubs at the back of his neck, and then scoffs out a small laugh, “I’m a little drunk right now, but–” He stops himself. What was he trying to say? And was it of conscious mind? “I just need to tell you that…I really regret…not speaking to you. I mean, for letting the silence drag on for years. You’re my–...my best friend. We’re a pair, you know? The two of us. For years, people would ask me where you were. And why they haven’t seen us together at all recently. And it was hard to admit that we hadn’t spoken in years.”

You take the smallest of steps towards him, and look up at him with empty eyes.

“What I’m trying to say is, is that, well,” he finds himself tripping over his words, “I miss you. And I miss our friendship. And–...I miss having you around.” He glances down at his shoes, polished and reflecting off the moonlight directly above him. He rocks back and forth on his heels ever so slightly. “I know you said that I piss you off to lengths unimaginable to my tiny pea-sized brain, but I can’t help myself, y/n,” he admits, “I think you and I, we’re just meant to always be. In some how, or some way…”

You purse your lips together, gaze shifting lower to eye at the silk of his tie.

“Can we be friends again?” he asks, the words feeling juvenile on his tongue. Like whispered apologies between children on a playground after shoving one another onto wooden chips, except the wounds he’s left on you run much deeper than a superficial scrape.

You blink slowly, tilting your head up at him. “Friends?”

“Friends.”

You wipe your palm off on the satin of your dress. “I missed you too, you know.”

His eyes widened slightly.

Your hand finds its way up your arm, until you weakly cup your elbow with your palm and look off to the side, avoiding eye contact with him. “There were so many years where I thought that there was something between us. And maybe I was foolish for thinking that way, that you would ever see me that way–”

“y/n,” he tries to interrupt you.

“But…the pain of not having you the way I wanted to was much less worse than the pain of not having you at all,” you say, your gaze finally shifting towards him. “But, the thing is, I needed to feel that pain to get over you. I had to.”

His heart stills at those words.

You glance down at the ground now. “I missed being able to tell you things. To laugh, and cry, and argue. I miss humbling your stupid ego. I miss being able to call you at any time, knowing you’d pick up when I needed you.”

His heart aches so much he wants to reach into his chest and hold it.

“The thing is,” you continue, “you would’ve been the first person I would’ve run to to tell them that I lost my best friend.” There were tears shining in your eyes. “But what could I do when you were the one that I had lost? Who could I have turned to then?”

He lets out a shaky breath, and in a swift motion, his arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you to him in an embrace.

You’re stiff in his hold, mechanical and rigid, so contrary to the soft tears you leave behind on the fabric of his sleeve, but slowly and surely, you warm and thaw. Your hands slide up past his shoulders, linking behind his neck. And his head drops to the curve of your neck, swaying you with him slowly as if it were a first dance.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “for hurting you.”

You breathe out slowly. “Just let me go, Satoru. Let me be free. Let me be free of you.”

He feels the air knock out of his lungs, and the two of you slowly pull your heads away from the embrace to look at one another, although your hands still find a place on his shoulders, and he still holds you close to him by a delicate hold of your waist.

He wonders if in another life, you two were happy. He wonders if he could ever take back all the decisions he made, and start all over again. On that day the two of you met on that staircase in the west wing of the literature building, he would make a different choice. If he could, he would live in this lifetime of hell over and over again if it meant that in some other one, there exists a world where he never hurts you.

“It’s time for me to go,” you whisper, eyes darting across the features of his face, studying them but with a familiarity that only you know, because you held his entire life in your palm. Your gaze meets his again, faces just inches apart, and the sweet curl of your eyelashes makes him weak in the knees. “It’s time.”

He nods slowly, his own eyes studying your face as well, except it looks foreign to him now.

It’s all been said and done. There was nothing he could do to right the wrongs, or undo all the pain. He was to be a father now, and his duties were now towards his wife and unborn child. And no longer to the woman he holds in his arms, one he’s sure he will never stop loving for as long as he lives.

It’s a sweet moment, the two of you gazing at one another. You look so pretty from this angle, looking up at him with the smallest tilt to your head and round searching eyes. His head subconsciously dips down towards yours in the second that he glances at your lips, but he stops himself. And when you make no move to create distance, he finds himself closing it again, until his lips brush against yours ever so softly. And then he captures them in a kiss, firm and unmistaken, finding solace in the way your lips move against his too, unsure yet passionately at the same time. Your fingers ever so slightly dig into his shoulders while his thumbs soothe at the skin of your waist, the two of you savoring the last moments of a kiss that’ll be the sweetest one you’ll ever know.

You pull away first, a small puff of air leaving your lips as you glance downwards. He rests his forehead against yours, never once looking away from your face. And you both breathe slowly, the soul of the chaste kiss entirely vanishing into the air along with all the hope that the two of you had left to make anything of the way you feel about one another. It was a kiss that almost disqualified any level of sin or guilt or wrong, because it was like one you two owed each other, after years of familiarity and longing. It was the goodbye that the two of you deserved.

His hands slowly let go of your waist, and he takes a step back away from you, softly clearing his throat. The distance feels like a galaxy away, and he briefly runs his thumb along his bottom lip, because the ghostly feeling of your lips on his still remains.

“Shall we head back?” you ask him, prim and proper in posture and eyes widened in a formal gaze.

His lips are parted, and he finds that he’s panting slightly. And then he slowly nods his head. “Yes.”

[the end]

a/n. i am sooooo freaking obsessed w "one day" by david nicholls and really wanted to write something inspired by it!! the book literally ripped my heart out and stomped on it like there were so many scenes where i just longingly stared out the window because of how shattering it was but dear god i really enjoyed it, and the show was also so dfkjhsfkhs i had sm feels watching it. so yea this was fun to write!! i hope you enjoyedd n thanks so much for reading :)

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curlyfriesgalore · 4 months ago

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"let it all out, baby."

you've been dating daisuke for a while, already growing accustomed to his body and behavior, but something was off. nothing break-up-worthy, far from it, but you're a little concerned with how quiet he's been in bed.

so one "night," when swansea is too drunk out of his mind, anya is busy caring for curly, and jimmy is doing fuck all, you and daisuke spend some quality time in your room, which miraculously survives the foam.

one thing led to another, and now you're giving him head. however, as much as you want to get lost in your lust, you can't help but focus on his face—not out of your usual affection, but to analyze him.

★ a smut-shot broken down into bullets with dialogue sectioned off into chat-format segments. [2,697 words]

☆ gen tags: post-crash. gn! reader is anya's intern, but your job isn't mentioned in the fic (it's just for lore's sake). daisuke is insecure in his masculinity (some angst). set in our year all because i reference one meme lol.

★ nsfw tags MDNI: dom reader. sub daisuke. fellatio and a handjob. neck biting and nipple sucking. so much whimpering!!!

[ahh, posting again because i found a fic i made for another character two years ago, so i decided to rework it! i was actually really glad to find this 'cause i've been wanting to write daisuke smut, but currently my nsfw drafts are all curly. art by washitquickly on twt —iris🌠]

daisuke squirms as you lap your tongue around the head of his velvety dick, your spit blending with his sweet and sour slick. he digs his gapped teeth deep into his chapped lip. his mouth is in a tight crease, eyes squished shut with brows deep in concentration, wrinkling his lightly pimpled forehead.

he looks so out of breath, yet zilch emerges from that man's mouth. you wonder if your skills have worsened since the crash. maybe it was stress? but no, you knew that couldn't've been the case. your licks have always made him involuntarily writhe in pleasure, and your breath alone was enough to make precum shoot out of his soft slit.

speaking of which, you did exactly that, and a high-pitched moan ensues, finally.

you groan along with him, feeling his clear fluid slide down your throat. when your voice vibrates its low hum, shivers trickle down daisuke's aching cock. it's enough for him to jolt, flutter his eyes open, and mewl out a squeaky whimper.

you look up in awe, expecting to see your loverboy in pure ecstasy, but your heart drops. all you see is his hand clamped over his mouth, eyes wide in horror: the farthest thing from rapture.

gently, you remove yourself, the sensation of smooth skin lingering in your mouth as a trail of saliva connects your lip to his tip. with your hands still on his thighs, you felt him tremble under your palms.

daisuke pulls his legs towards his chest, encasing them within his arms as he buries half his face into his knees. his brows dent into his temple. he mumbles what sounds like an apology and wipes his face against his hinge joints. worry washes away your arousal in an instant.

carefully, you unfold his arms, spreading his legs to reveal the gorgeous mess you so deeply love. you crawl on top of him, resting your stomach on his, feeling his liquid lather onto your abdomen as you softly cradle his chin, bringing his face to yours.

as you thumb away the tiny tears dripping down his acne-scarred cheeks, he carefully brings his gaze to you, revealing the sea of tears swimming in his dark eyes. daisuke looks like a sad puppy, hurt and desperate for his partner's forgiveness, yet you are unsure as to why he's reacting this way.

he tries to gulp down the cries congested in his throat, attempting to force an explanation, but his reasons refuse to be revealed. for a man who spoke so many words, he felt too embarrassed to say any.

so, rather than letting him hurt himself any further, you envelop his warm body in your arms. daisuke silently melts as you comb your fingers through his sweaty hair, caressing his scalp as you try to piece things together. you think back to all the times you guys have had sex.

time and time again, you remember how quietly he'd finish. no matter how intensely his body shook from your touch, nothing but a small sigh would leave his panting chest. daisuke could be a puddle of sweat, drool coating his chin, eyes rolled all the way back as he failed to wait for your cue to let him cum all over your stomach—and yet, the only thing missing were the sounds of his moans.

you didn't question it at first, assuming he was, ironically enough, a quiet guy in bed, but things weren't adding up.

whenever you sneak attack his sides, tickling the air out of him, daisuke would shriek as if he'd witnessed the murder of his favorite pokémon. his face contorts into the physical embodiment of the 'ash baby.'

then there was another time, a month before the crash, when it was jimmy's turn for movie night. the co-pilot pulled up with his favorite horror film, intending to creep the skin off of everyone, and it nearly did for daisuke. he screeched so hard, practically ripping your eardrums, and lunged himself onto you, toppling the others over like dominoes on the couch.

(you recall a very tired captain curly lecturing a sheepish daisuke, telling him to be more careful with his surroundings, as anya aided swansea's sore back while jimmy snickered to himself next to you).

countless times proved how reactive he was, besides the obvious fact that this man does not have an off button. so, for him to be completely silent during sex didn't make any sense.

well, he wasn't completely. you've heard his soft moans and hushed whimpers escape from daisuke, unbeknownst to him, but you knew he could be much louder than that.

like, hello? he's the daisuke juarez, the guy (in)famously known for talking on and on for days without fail; surely, he could groan the life out of his lungs.

because, clearly, he wants to.

he needs to.

but you didn't know why he was so adamant about being super quiet. you wanted an answer so you wouldn't have to constantly try to get a read on his suppressions. and, by the looks of it, you're about to get one.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

you cup his face and caress his warm jaw. daisuke delicately places his hand on top of yours and strokes it back, rolling his thumb against your knuckles.

"can we talk now?" your question drifts into the soft rumbles of the ship.

daisuke carefully nods, one last garbled sob croaking out his throat before he responds, "y-yeah..."

"tell me. what's wrong, baby?" you ask softly as your hand dances around his face, your fingers tracing his features, wet from tears.

"um, do i..." daisuke pauses, briefly breathing in some much-needed air, "do i sound weird when i—y'know—uh, moan...?" he leans his cheek into your palm, and you feel the bumpy indentations in his skin flush into yours. his sights are set on everything but you.

your brows knit, but clarity relaxes the knot in your shoulders. "d'aww, baby..." you pout. "is that what this is?" daisuke, slowly attempting to match your eyes, purses his lips with another nod.

shaking your head, you bring his chin closer to yours, "no, no... not at all, dai." you press your lips into his pursed ones, tenderly transferring your love to him and relieving his tight kiss into its original plumpness. you pull away, resting your forehead against his, "i've always found them very cute..."

"if anything," you chuckle, "i wish you moaned more." finally, he looks at you, and you're met with wide eyes and lifted brows, "really?"

now it's your turn to quirk your brow. "of course, really! what makes you think i'd feel otherwise?" daisuke laughs at that and eats his lips, looking up at the metal ceiling as he sifts through his memory box.

"well- i don't know, i mean, back on earth," you catch a brief dullness in his gaze, "i once heard the girls in my class talk about how weird some guys sound when they moan, and like," daisuke drums his fingers on your forearm, "when i asked, they'd say any dude who sounded too much like them?" when he looks at you, he falters, "ach- how do i say it?"

your eyes narrow, struggling to understand that train of thought. daisuke frowned, not at you but at the following words, "it was something like 'oh! men who whimper are soOo icky to me' and 'dudes should sound deep, not like...'" daisuke winces, heaving a frustrated sigh as he continues to mimic those girls. "'...whatever weak subby boy bullshit that's been circulating online—' i know, it's stupid." he immediately stops when he sees your grimace.

you blink your eyes shut, shaking your head and sighing when you peel them open. "so," your hand wipes over your mouth. "you ended up adopting that?" you ask, tucking your thumb under your chin as your index rests on your bottom lip, elbow propped up on one knee.

"i mean, sort of?" daisuke moves his hands to rub circles on your bare sides, "when i realized that i moan like," daisuke air quotes, "a 'weak subby boy,' i got really embarrassed and well- forced myself to sound more like a man, i guess..." the shame in his face, apparent.

you hum, taking in the information as he continues to explain his insecurities. daisuke tells you all the times he's been egged on by his guy friends for how he sounds when he'd whine after getting hit by a baseball ball (when that shit HURTS for anybody, daisuke emphasizes) or how often his friend group would point out his squeals, joking about how he'd never get laid with a voice like that. the thing is, he consciously understands that his classmates are biased individuals, so daisuke knows that there's no real point for him to act all secretive with his sounds. but he can't help it. he worries that letting himself just... be himself, in this context specifically, might make you find him less attractive.

"hUH?!" you exclaim, making daisuke jump. you're so baffled that you grab his face and squish his cheeks with all the affection your squeeze can imbue. he looks at you, doe-eyed with lips puffed out like a fish. "i—first of all, what an absolutely shitty thing to say to your friend, let alone do it daily. and second of all, not every man moans the same. just 'cause yours is a little higher doesn't make you any less of one..." he attempts to defend them, wanting to say that they weren't that bad, but you hush him, reading through his lie before he could assess it himself. then, when you rationalize his insecurity, he tightens his lip, taking in your opinion as you continued to speak against the toxicity of his friends. noticing he's gone quiet, you rub his cheek, changing your tone into something much softer. "daisuke."

"yesh...?"

as your serious stare delves deep into his soul, you reassure him, "there is no one—and i mean, no one—in this universe that i love more than you."

"oomph, i shink your beftfriends whould be mhad if they hurd thath." daisuke jokes, and you roll your eyes, shushing him as you stifle your laugh, "hey, i'm being serious here...!" to which daisuke chuckles and nods for you to continue, mouthing an 'i love you, too.'

you sigh, "your whimpers... are the cutest, most adorable noises i'll ever hear in my life, and i don't want you to shut them up, ever. i mean it."

"mph- reallhy?" the innocence in his voice made you squish the sides of his face harder as you hummed in agreement, "really."

"i want to hear them," you take a moment to sit up, straddling his thighs as you wrap your fingers around his dick, it instantly springs. "over... and over... and over again." with every pause, you stroke him. your palm tugs at his cock from the hairs on his abdomen to his soaked tip. daisuke chokes out a gasp, his legs squirming as he gulps, "a-ah, fuck... baby." his body trembles, randomly jerking with every drag of his thick cock.

"nothing will ever change the way i see you," you press your lips onto his jaw, feeling the tiniest stubble. "how sweet you are, how handsome you look, or how good you sound to me." you trail kisses down his neck, and latch onto the edge of his adam's apple, nibbling a whimper out of him.

"if anything, your moans make me love you even more than i already do." as you peck along his chest, his whines squeal breathlessly, and his whimpers exceed his vocal cords. every compliment you throw at him sends his brain into autopilot.

"ngh, mh..." none of daisuke's words made any sense, his mouth melding into mush while yours formed dark hickeys on all his right spots. he was panting uncontrollably. looking down at you with those half-lidded eyes of his, ones leaking with so much love and lust. he grips the sheets with one hand while the other carefully combes through your hair.

your mouth was now at level with his nipple. you watch it harden in anticipation as he edges his chest a little closer to your lips, making you chuckle at how needy your boyfriend's gotten. "now, before i let you cum, i want you to be as loud as you possibly can be, okay? for me, baby."

he nods, loving your coos, but uncertainty nearly cockblocks him, "w-wait, babe, what if everyone hears me?" daisuke watches you huff a laugh, "like anyone's cared about us fucking before." you both chuckle, and daisuke relaxes, "oh right, hehe."

"even if someone hears," you lightly circle his nipple, the tiny bumps on its dark epidermis sliding so perfectly against your thumb. daisuke's dick twitches, already biting his lip at the sight of your tongue inches away from his chest's nub. you continue, breathing hot on daisuke's skin. "they get to know how beautiful my baby boy sounds in bed."

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

daisuke's breathing gradually quickens at the heat. when you finally lick his nipple, his cry is instantaneous. it's the prettiest noise you've ever heard, pulling at your heartstrings as a rush surges through your abdomen.

you close your eyes and focus on stroking his dick with every lick you make, his adorable moans filling the air. the way you roll your fingers and wedge them on the damp head, massaging the precum out his slit, melts daisuke, turning him into a pathetic, panting puddle in your arms. he absentmindedly ruts into your hand out of pure pleasure, sliding his slick all over your skin.

soon enough, his whimpers peaked, his voice consuming the room. you knew he was reaching his high based on the synchronization of his thrusts and your pumps. bed sheets crumple under his fist, and his other hand no longer on your hair but on the small of your back, squeezing your waist as he tries to travel down to knead your ass.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"babe, i'm close...! i'm so close." daisuke blabbers between mewls, his hands clutching onto your hips for support. he spills all of him into your palms, creating a wet patch underneath his thighs. you intensify your already vigorous pumping, simultaneously pinching a nipple as you bite the other, "come on, baby... you're almost there." "i'm cumming—fuck— 'm cumm...ing, nghnghm! ohmygod...!" intense shudders siphon through daisuke's bloodstream, his whole body convulsing as he feels his milk bud, moments away from dripping out his sore slit. "let it all out, baby." you coo, tonguing his nipple with your wet love.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

with one final groan, his cum drenches your hand as he arches his back so far that it nearly sends you falling. all that fills your ears are the sounds of your boyfriend's sweet sobs, easing into an aching sigh.

after tugging his cock with a few more strokes, daisuke collapses further into the bed, his head lying so far back into the pillow that you can see his adam's apple bob after every gasp and gulp. your lips leave his nipple, and he shivers from the cold air hitting his wet skin.

as he's catching his breath, you stretch your back and crane your spine far enough to feel every bubble in your ligament pop down your bones. after rolling your neck side to side, you get a good look at daisuke, who is disheveled and disoriented.

you chuckle and lift his head up, daisuke's teary eyes akin to those of a desperate puppy. you bring your sticky fingers to your mouth, swallowing his sweetness, and daisuke watches, thirsty for a taste.

smiling at the drool dripping down his puffy lips, you bring your face to him, gracing him with a smooch. the kiss muffles his deep moan. his tongue explores yours, devouring his own dick with what lingers on your papillae.

daisuke pouts when you pull away, but before he whines, you wrap your hands behind his neck, sitting yourself up and pulling him into your chest. he sighs into the hug, embracing you as much as he physically can while you massage his wet and messy hair. you kiss his scalp and softly praise him for being such a good boy.

[i was going to expand on the post crash aspect but i got wayyy too tired. but know that the story was originally going to have an afab reader, where you ride daisuke till he cums inside you, so i'd then add a line about how you couldn't care less about getting bred 'cause you were probably dying on the tulpar, anyway 😭 so it was going to be a LOT more angsty. i also intended to write a segment (after he admits his insecurity) of him missing earth and the structure of a home so badly that he's developed a mommy kink, so i could use it later when you guys go back to sexing buuut oopsies. i'll save that for another time 🫠. —iris🌠]

#🌠 leads to my masterlist #someone take tumblr away from me i NEED to finish my final projects 💀#i think the angst could've definitely been improved. i would elaborate more on comforting daisuke but i finished this at 4 am 😵#daisuke x reader #daisuke x you #daisuke mouthwashing #mouthwashing #mouthwashing x reader #intern daisuke #daisuke juarez #oneshot #curly mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #daisuke

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crescenthistory · 5 months ago

Text

Miracles All Around

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x Reader

Synopsis: When the world is equally as complicated for you and your partners to navigate post-war as it was pre-war, you are given the opportunity to find your forever peace in the same place you found your forever love. AKA: the Marauders' journey to being hired at Hogwarts.

Words: 6.9k

Warnings: set after the first wizarding war (that had a canon non-compliant semi-happy ending), references to death and grief, mental and physical health issues, lycanthropy discrimination, short war flashback at the start

Tags: fem!reader, use of y/n, not betaread, established relationship, hurt/comfort, fluff, lots of crying, lots of kissing, supportive partners, found family, alternate universe, some snape hate, icon minerva mcgonagall, the black brothers got a happy ending, dorlene didn't

A/N: this is perhaps my favourite au to ever au, i love this universe, and i hope you will too<3 there is more to come for them

The tears were streaming more rapidly from your face than Sirius had any chance to wipe away, even with his hands cupping your cheeks a bit roughly. Your own arms were occupied by James’ circling your whole body into a massive bear hug behind you, his cheers a vague echo in your ear.

Everything was buzzing. Nothing felt real.

You won. It was over. It’s all alright.

It was Remus’ eyes seeking out yours beside you, forehead covered with matted tawny curls pressed against yours. They were the kind of brown that can be best described as amber; it became your favourite colour years ago. His gaze was loving and insistent, as if he aimed to anchor you to the moment with it. You think maybe he did.

Another few bodies slammed into your little huddle, essentially creating some unorthodox group hug on the muddied field turned battle ground… turned field again? The battle was over, there were fanfares in the background, more highly ranked officials finally stepping foot after the 20-something year olds did the hard work and defeated the final members of the Death Eaters. Your friends smelled of sweat, blood and smoke, and you had never been happier.

Another sob made its way up your throat, creating a haunting choir with the cries from what you thought was Lily, Mary and Sirius. James shook behind you too, but you were uncertain if it was with laughter or cries – both would be appropriate. Remus’ forehead was still pressed to yours and you felt his tears trail down his nose onto yours. They were warmer.

You were all warm, you were all here.

Just as you could start feeling the tips of your fingers again, the shock wave that hit you the second the last dark wizard dropped fading, you were jostled by Sirius ripping himself from your arms and pushing himself vigorously through your huddle of people.

With fear still ready to be deployed at any moment, adrenaline soaring, your head snapped up to follow his movements, legs ready to run to help him – when you saw him launch himself into another boy with black curls, tackling him to the ground. Your fear seeped away the second you saw this was not an attack; this was a hug. A long awaited, well deserved hug.

For his sake, you pretended you didn’t hear Regulus’ hiccuping sobs as he clutched to his big brother’s shoulders, for once in his life not upset with Sirius dirtying his clothes. Sirius’ cries were just as unrestrained if not more, whispering celebrations and praise. When you felt the tremoring behind you this time, you knew in your bones that James was crying. You leaned further into him and dragged Remus with you as you looked towards your last lover, all encompassed by each other.

“We did it,” you murmured without thinking.

“We made it, dove.” A kiss, two, three to your sopping wet face.

There would still be endless lists of tasks to do, nothing was ever truly over. But even the officials surrounding you knew this to be a crucial moment for you, and did not disturb as your makeshift family embraced and settled with the fact that even with all that was lost, you ended up with each other.

You could finally breathe.

・・・・・⟢

And then you were there again – on a slightly too small seat on a magically fast train headed straight for Hogwarts with months until the next departure, feeling a giddiness that was all too familiar in its warmth yet made a stranger by the years of cold you had endured.

“I cannot believe they are actually letting you step foot back in the place.”

Remus shook his head in faux disapproval, eyes filled with mirth as he waited for James’ reaction. His fingers were skillfully peeling your clementine for you without looking, a tradition established in third year.

“Of course they are!” James exclaimed haughtily, almost clambering up into Sirius’ lap to point an accusatory finger at Remus. “I made that place more fun than it had ever been.”

“Um,” Sirius scoffed. “I think you mean we, don’t you, honey?” James waved him off with a yeah, yeah motion. Remus exchanged a look with you as if you were in on some hilarious secret together.

“All I’m saying is that if Minnie hasn’t received a proper warning that her four favourite students are returning as faculty, she might have a heart attack.”

“Careful Moons, or I’m going to start thinking you don’t want me here, and marriage licences aren’t easy to revoke these days.”

Your heart was full.

What does one do when the dust settles? How does one react when the sun rises at last and you want to revel in her touch despite your churning stomach?

At first, none of you had an answer to that. Your makeshift family, your pack as Sirius often insisted on calling it, only partly jokingly, at least had the luxury of sitting with a shared feeling of coming up empty.

Once the dead are buried and the living are hugged, the world is meant to keep turning. It was all you had wanted, it was what you fought so hard for. Only to find that the ‘normal’ you returned to faces its own challenges – more mundane in nature, yet no less violent in sentiment. James with his grief, Sirius with his trauma, Remus with his affliction. It makes it hard to respectively enjoy jobs, keep jobs and even be offered them in the first place.

As for you, the war settled into your bones deeper than you were willing to admit, though you were confident your boys were well aware. Distance became your biggest enemy, chokeholds grasping at you whenever it grew, even if it was just for a grocery run or a short shift. Focus is the least of your priorities when it feels like lives are on the line, and employers don’t much appreciate that, especially when you know they aren’t actually.

It felt unjust to complain when it was so much more than what most got. You were blessed with keeping your very closest close, though you felt the losses as well.

Still, you wanted to burn the world down for not being what they were promised, what they gave it all for.

Remus had it the worst. His missions for the Order were arguably some of the most demanding any of you were put through; grueful transformations and roughhousing with werewolves, cosplaying as everything he always hated within himself. You shouted from the rooftops that your boyfriend – and then husband – was a war hero.

The Ministry labelled him a risk.

While James, Sirius and you were offered positions either in or with the Ministry in the immediate aftermath of war, as an extension of gratitude for your services and a requirement of proven talent, Remus barely got a measly medal. One he can put on his resume, sure, but that will be instantly overshadowed by the flagged tab from the Ministry regarding his registered lycanthropy.

If Remus could not find work, you refused to leave him be with his thoughts and his pains in the flat. You tried to do things together and while your atoms sung at his presence, you both grew heavier by the day. James and Sirius did what they could as they surfed through different positions in the Ministry, both to strategise Remus’ way into employment through their connections and to brighten the moods.

Complicated days are those in the after. It was all you could do to hold onto each other’s strengths like buoys in the dwindling storm.

Lovely nights of intimacy, painful conversations ran through over and over again until they felt more soothed, reliving the small joys you missed when you thought them obsolete; stargazing, steaming tea, folding socks. Kisses for the emotional pains, back massages for the physical ones

“Where’d you go, dovey?”

Remus’ voice gently pulled at your mind’s sleeve, tethering you back down to him with a careful look and a rueful smile. His tawny hair was messy by the evening you had spent curled up in bed, riding out your separate flares. His time with the werewolves had worn his already aching joints thin, while your stint that went awry in the second year of war resulted in thundering magical headaches, residue Crucio’s singeing through your nerve endings. It made it easy to fall into the trap of flashbacks whenever the pain revisited, prompting Remus’ more prominent worry.

You flashed him a soft smile to ease it, mulling it over. “I don’t really know. Nowhere. Everywhere. I’m alright though, lovely boy.”

With a quiet grunt, he shifted his hips so he could lay down beside you where you were wrong-side up in the bed, head by the foot. A warm hand stretched out to cup your cheek, thumb gently saying hello. “Your thinking furrow says otherwise,” he murmured.

Though it wasn’t necessarily funny, you laughed at his analysis. “My thinking furrow?” you questioned, leaning into his touch.

A small smile eventually spread across his face as Remus lifted his hand to smooth out a – nonexistent, in your opinion – furrow between your brows in reply.

“It comes up whenever you float away.” You didn’t have to make him explain what float away meant; you all had different ways of phrasing yourselves, but you were in agreement about what it referred to as you carried the burden together.

You hummed in consideration. “I wasn’t away away, at least I don’t think. Just reflecting. Pondering if you’d like.”

Remus shook his head in adoration. “I do like. You, that is.”

You needed no more encouragement to lean forward and plant a sweet kiss on his lips. “I like this. That’s what I was thinking about, for the most part.” You toyed with his collar with one hand, fingers brushing against the slight freckles scattered on the skin beneath it. “How grateful I am to be able to be here with you like this. How much I wish I could give us the world you so deserve. Who I’d like to have a chat with about the fact that I can’t.”

His eyes went from soft to adamant disturbingly quick. “It’s alright, dove, I’m fine. I don’t want you to have to worry about all of that.”

He never did, did he?

“What do we not want our sweet girl to worry about?” James asked with a grin evident in his voice even before he entered the bedroom two seconds later, and once he did, it was on full display. Still sunny, but with more clouds than when you first fell in love with it.

“Jamie,” you cooed in greeting, carefully exiting the bed to pull his body flush against yours and allow your heart to settle with having almost everyone in your vicinity once more. If James was home, Sirius surely was not far behind.

Remus waited for James to come to his side before he pecked him in greeting, instantly delving into James’ day at work, how he was feeling, what he wanted to do, and anything that could get the conversation away from the worry in question. Oddly enough, his adamance not to be a burden and instead serve as a loving pillar beneath you all, only made you more certain of your conviction.

It took you a few days to work up the courage to do it, but the need to be useful, to provide, to build overtook your lingering fear of stepping outside or exerting yourself.

You didn’t tell the boys – something they would come to marvel at for years after, unbelieving that you could have kept a ‘secret’ in such an open house, regardless of your insistence that it wasn’t a secret, just an unspoken plan.

You did not tell them, not before you had owled back and forth with the one woman who has a solution to everything and a shared undeniable soft spot for the three troublemakers turned battle leaders turned husbands, namingley Minerva McGonagall. Someone who knew of Remus’ condition without viewing him differently, someone with the stiff upper lip needed to take on the Ministry, someone who, after Dumbledore’s final sacrifice in taking down Lord Voldemort, became Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Someone who, upon your letter pouring it all out, did not hesitate to inform you that the professor’s suites easily could transform to house four people at once.

While you always expected her support, you did not know to anticipate her eagerness, considering how much headache some in your little polycule had brought her back in the days. Yet, she informed you in how she had been extra particular about what staff she hunted down to replace the various positions vacated by the many losses of war – those who fell in battle, those who fled without looking back and the occasional few who made unsound choices – and already had her sights on you. Despite the fun of your youths, you had proven yourselves over countless Order meetings with McGonagall and even the occasional shared mission. She saw how able James was to lead, she saved and was saved by Sirius one treacherous night, she planned a visceral attack with you, and when she was unable to heal someone, Remus was the one who had stepped up. More importantly, she had seen how you kept the Order afloat the same way you would family members, with an attentiveness most professors could only dream of capacitating, let alone share.

“Truly, I fear you four were made for this,” she had confided in her final letter before you told your boys.

When you did, you orchestrated a date night huddled together on one of the sofas in your townhouse, legs and hips all muddled together beneath blankets as you chatted away, dishes long since put in warm water to be neglected while you cared for one another. James and Sirius shared stories from work, most of them to complain about the ridiculousness of the rigid structures behind it all, while you and Remus spoke of the different projects you had taken on at home.

With the lull in the conversation caused by the slight downwards twitch of Remus’ lips, a display of his displeasure with only being able to contribute with projects, you took your opportunity.

“Actually,” you started slowly, sitting up straighter while tightening your hand around James’. All faces were already in your direction, and you could tell the perk up at the tone of your voice. “I have found an opportunity that we might want to discuss what to do with.”

Despite making your voice soft and positive, you could see the weariness in Remus’ eyes, feeling as if you could read his thoughts rushing to assume the worst.

It was written all over his face: she’s got a job far away, she is more capable, she is leaving me. You ached to ease it.

“An opportunity?” Sirius questioned, his own eyebrows tellingly shot up.

“I spoke with McGonagall.”

For a moment there was silence. Then, James eyed you with nervous entertainment. “Old Minnie?”

“I reckon you shouldn’t call her that,” you teased, nudging his shoulder slightly by moving yours that was pressed up against him. “Especially if we decide to do this. She would be our employer.”

“Employer?” Sirius asked.

“Our?” That was Remus.

“There are several vacant positions at Hogwarts after the war, and McGonagall – should I call her Minerva? I don’t really know, either way, she–” You took a deep breath. “She thought of us four for the opportunity. Together.”

“You mean as professors?” James’ brows were furrowed together and you could see the clogs turning. You were unsure of how he would react.

“Yeah,” you said breathlessly, toying with the hem of Sirius’ shirt that you had thrown on. “She figured James for Flying–”

“I’m sold.” James interrupted you with an oncoming beaming grin, looking between all three of you. “Quidditch? Professor? Oh, Merlin, I’m sold.”

“Prongs, let her finish baby,” Sirius urged through a laugh. James had the audacity to blush a little, nodding as he turned his attention back on you.

Before you could continue, you couldn’t resist giving his cheek a quick kiss. “Yes, you would be Quidditch professor, love. And referee, by default.”

You turned your attention on Sirius, who seemed to still be entertained by James’ reaction, but picked up on your gaze quickly

“There were several positions open that might work for you, but I suggested Astronomy.” You phrased it almost like a question, nervous to be caught misjudging your own partner’s skills and interests. “I know you always loved it so, and you were so great at explaining everything to me before our OWLS.”

Sirius’ smile softened and he reached out to grab your cheek with one hand, reassuringly rubbing his thumb up and down. “That would be the ideal subject, doll. Good choice.”

At last, you turned your attention to Remus, whose gaze was apprehensive, inside of his cheek nudged in between his teeth. He was uncharacteristically quiet, his usual hums of approval and disapproval absent. You could read the hundred questions on his tongue, even with his mouth closed.

“We went back and forth on what would have been the ideal solution, and, while I fully support whatever we decide on… I think it’s a good one, Rem.” You took a steadying breath. “You and I would teach Defense Against the Dark Arts together. McG– Minerva said we had more than proven ourselves capable during our studies as well as the war. We would set up a schedule where we teach some classes together and some separately, on a monthly cycle – that way you would have no ‘absences’ to explain away, it would just be part of the timetable that you have some time off. One week of joint classes, one week of just me during the full moon, one week of joint classes and then one week of just you during your prime period. When we’re not teaching, we will be doing ‘research’ for the subject and writing academic literature, the same solution Professor Tinkwilt had in second year, remember?”

You recognise you were almost ranting towards the end, but you had a burning need to explain yourself in full, to show him how you thought of everything. “Since we would all be going and living together, you three can continue with the moon routine you had while we were in school. I could even finally become a registered animagus like we always talked about.”

Throughout your speech, Remus’ lips had begun to part, eyes wide as he took everything in, yet his face remained impassive. James squeezed your hand to show support.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Remus said at last, squirming a little under all three gazes gauging his response. “That seems too good to be true.”

“It’s true,” you whispered, fighting off emotions and an oncoming Crucio headache from the stress of it all. “Minerva said even Dumbledore had spoken of the possibility of hiring you, Remus, back before–” You cut yourself off before your voice could break. James’ hand moved from yours to wrap around your front in a side hug. “It was you he thought of first, gave her some ideas about how to circumvent the Ministry. She said she knows how and is willing to take on the fight. If that is what we all want.”

“Is it?” Remus asked then, avoiding facing this himself. “Is it what you all want?”

James and Sirius looked between each other before looking at you and Remus.

“I never fancied myself a professor,” Sirius mused. “Didn’t really ever think about it. But the idea doesn’t bother me – I think it might be nice, yeah? It’s like one of those stand up gigs every single day, except you also get to take and give points like a maniac. And talk about Astronomy.”

Your smile was growing while regarding his fond gaze at the thought – then, his face fell and your stomach dropped. Sirius made a horrified gasp. “No,” he whispered. “If we do this, everyone’s going to know how ridiculously intelligent I am. I’ve worked so hard to build a reputation as the hot one.”

Both you and Remus swatted each of his arms.

Sirius made a faux shriek, diving forward from where he was squished between the sofa pillows to hide in Remus’ lap – where, despite him being one of the perpetrators, he found instant peace.

James acted as if nothing had happened. “I think being a Flying instructor would be bloody awesome. I always wanted to work in Quidditch before all else went to shite, and I love kids. And I loved Hogwarts. Sounds kind of perfect, does it not?”

“We did love Hogwarts,” you said through a beaming smile. Taking in your family considering this massive step.

“And you, dove?” Remus caught your attention.

“What about me?”

“What do you want?”

The sincerity, the insecurity laden on his face made your body tense with the want to jump on him and hold him in your arms forever. How is it possible for one boy to love you so much? And for you to get to keep him?

Your heart was growing surer and surer that you were on the right path.

“I actually was the one who reached out to Minerva about the idea first,” you admitted somewhat shyly. “That was when she told me she was already considering us, though she said she worried about disrupting any peace we had by asking; I assured her she wouldn’t. I do think I want this – but only if you do, too.”

Remus’ eyes flickered. “Would it be wrong of me to want it? Bringing a threat into a castle filled with children was never a safe idea in the first place, but to do it again indefinitely?”

You all cut him off with shaken heads and various protests before he could spiral down that road.

“Absolutely not,” Sirius said adamantly, popping his head up out of Remus’ lap to cup his cheeks between his two large hands. “You never were and never will be a threat at Hogwarts, sweetheart.”

“And angel’s right, we have the routine established and prepared already,” James added. “A far more secure one than the one we have now over on the farm. The Shrieking Shack could do with some renovations, but it’s foolproof. Not to mention you have Pomfrey on guard should you get inured, who is still much better than Sirius and I at tending to you like that.”

“Y/N’s quite alright with it,” Remus murmured, shooting you a teasing smile. Warming up.

You leaned forward to bring his gangly hands into yours, tracing his veins with your fingers. “Apart from being hard on yourself, what do you actually think, baby? Do you want to? Because if you don’t want to, we absolutely can say no.”

Renus shook his head minutely – just enough for you to catch it and your heart to settle.

“No, no, I… I want it.” Remus’ voice was rough with emotion and you could catch him working through potential tears. That felt significant; Remus was the one who had cried the least since the war, which you didn’t think was necessarily a good thing. “I actually always wanted to be a professor, if things were different.”

You tightened your hold on his hands and enunciated every word clearly as you whispered, “Things don’t have to be different, Remus.”

A single tear slipped down his face as he cracked a smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nodded ardently, taking the opportunity to lean forward into a quick kiss. “You’re saying yes?”

“I’m saying yes,” he whispered.

“Merlin,” James sighed, slumping back in his seat. He brought his hands up to his face to rub at it, as if trying to ground himself and feel real. “Gods, are we really doing this? We’re doing this? We’re going to work… at Hogwarts?”

“I– yeah, if– if you’re sure?” You were sputtering but didn’t care to be embarrassed – you didn’t have to with them.

“I think we’re sure.” Sirius was grinning as he looked between all of you. “Good Godric, Minnie is going to regret letting us back in so much.”

James and Sirius started all but jumping excitedly in their seats as they laughed, your shared shock finally tipping over into seemingly delirious laughter, unsettled in the feeling of knowing where you’re going. The feeling of finding it.

In their celebration, you climbed over Sirius to set yourself down in Remus’ lap, who circled his arms around you on instinct. You let your fingers brush over his left cheek, the one the tear had traced. You kissed it softly.

“This is happening?” he whispered in awe.

“If you want it to, pretty boy. We’ve found a way.”

Remus dared to let himself grin. “You’re bloody amazing.”

That was the point where he tackled you into James’ front, lathering you in kisses and holding you in ways that tickled. Sirius quickly slid in between you, first to “defend your honour” before quickly joining in on the kissing instead.

In between gasping laughs, you suddenly remembered one of the best parts, sitting up where you were caged between all three lovers with your eyebrows shot up. “Wait! Sirius, I forgot to tell you one of the best parts.”

“Me?” Sirius asked, pointing at himself almost alarmed.

Your grin turned almost smug, deeply satisfied with being able to share the news. “He hasn’t told you yet because he was unsure of how to break the news when it involved seeing each other less often. But now that you’re going as well–”

Sirius perked up, eyes going wide as he realised where you were going with this.

“Regulus was offered a position as well. He’ll be going with us.”

The sound that escaped Sirius was neither quite a laugh nor a scream, but was decidedly loud. “WHAT?” was all he let out before shooting out of his seat as if he had been spelled away. Before you could tell him more he was running over to grab his wand, halfway through a turn when he stopped to say “Be back in a jiffy, hot stuff.”

Then there was a pop of apparition, and you were three people on the sofa instead of four.

“Which one of us is hot stuff?” you questioned bemusedly.

James waved in a so-so motion with his hand. “I think we collectively are the stuff.”

“Ah. Charming.”

“What subject will Regulus teach?” Remus questioned then. He reached out to scoop you up from where you had toppled half-over at Sirius’ departure, holding you close to his chest.

“Arithmancy and alchemy.”

James rolled his eyes good naturedly. “What a swot.”

“That’s a lot coming from someone who is about to be a professor,” Remus volleyed, reaching out to squish his cheek.

“Who would have thought you can just become a professor? Don’t you have to, I don’t know, turn 150 years old and write a book first?” James had that aloof expression he wore when he was thinking out loud, and you couldn’t help but kiss him soundly, leaving him with an even dumber expression afterwards.

“Usually, there’s more of a process to it, yeah. But, even almost a year later, society is still kind of rebuilding. There is space to bend the rules, and Minerva said she believes our time with the Order substitutes any further education or book-writing.”

He hummed as if that was enough of an answer for him. You suppose it should be.

“Anyone else?” Remus murmured with his lips against the back of your neck. You shivered in delight at the touch.

“Hm?”

He chuckled. “Anyone else who will be brought onboard the teaching staff that we should know about?”

“No one but Regulus has accepted the position yet, and I don’t think anyone but us has been in talks with her yet, with the term still being so far off. But I know that she is considering asking Lily about Potions or Muggle Studies and Mary about Herbology.”

Both boys grinned at the possibility, James squeezing your calves in his lap with excitement. “It will be almost like a family reunion, then.”

You smiled unruly at him, sensing the grief in his eyes at his own words. “Yeah, almost baby.”

“Why is Lily considered for both Potions and Muggle Studies?” Remus asked, diverting away from the sensitive topic while spirits were high. “I mean there is nothing that witch can’t do, but Potions was by far her superiority.”

This was the first time a frown was brought onto your face, one James caught immediately and furrowed his eyes at as if it was a personal offense. “You’re not going to like this one,” you started off, hoping to ease them into it.

“Gods, what is it?”

“She’s also considering Snape for Potions.”

The two boys consequently interrupted each other with indignant exclamations at the revelation.

“No, there is no way they are considering that bloody git,” James all but seethed. “After all he did? To Lily?”

You sighed, agreeing with their sentiments but able to do little about it. “I know, baby. But Dumbledore vouched for him and gave him clemency for his work as a double agent, and he is incredibly skilled. We can just hope he will say no.”

Remus slumped in his seat at the prospect, letting his forehead fall against you.

“Does this change your answers?” you asked wearily, not having considered that it might.

“What? Angel, no, this is quite literally the perfect solution. I’m not letting Snape take that away.” James quickly assured you, squeezing in even closer to you and Remus, kissing the latter’s hair from where he was resting.

“Good,” you whispered. “Because I think I’m really quite excited.” You were almost shy in your revelation, less so when you felt Remus’ lips curl against your skin.

James kissed your nose while laughing. “I can’t believe I’m about to be dating a professor.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Potter, we are doing a little more than dating,” Remus replied haughtily, to which he was bombarded with his own tickling kisses.

Laughter rang through your living room for months on end as you packed and prepared and – to everyone’s remaining shock – studied to prepare for your new life. Or, in some ways, your old life, with some significant improvements.

Hogwarts was once your home. It felt almost cosmically right to return to it after defending it with your life. It was evident to you; this is what you do when the dust settles. You rediscover what you love.

“Getting cold feet?”

Sirius’ shoe nudged into yours on the floor of the spacious compartment of the hurrying train, loving smile plastered all over his face. You had zoned out at their gleeful bickering, clementine long since devoured, and sticky fingers happily laced with Remus’ beside you.

The professors' compartments of the train were at the very front, with bigger and softer seats, much to your partners’ enjoyment, as they loved to splay themselves out over everything. It was odd to be somewhere you had been so many times, yet have it feel like a new environment in some ways.

“Are you projecting, Siri?” you teased in turn, manoeuvring your own shoe to hook behind his. “If you’re going to make a run from it before you’re faced with Filch again, you have to do it on your own.”

He barked a laugh, earning him James’ full attention as the bespectacled boy who preened in his lovers’ happiness. “Just checking, dollface. You grew so quiet I feared you might just stay on the train when we get there.”

“And leave poor Minerva alone with you three? I would never.”

You and Sirius wore matching grins as you stared each other down, only distracted when Remus on your side placed his chin on your shoulder in his slumped position. “What were you thinking about then, beautiful?”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly and kissed his forehead. Sirius pouted in envy and you held out your hand for him to grant you his, bringing his knuckles to your lips as well, feeling him melt at even the lightest touch.

“I was thinking about how we got to here. And then, even better – where we will end up,” you revealed with a smile you once thought you may never wear so easily again.

James let his head drop backwards as he stared at the ceiling. “Who would have fucking thought? Not me, that’s for sure.”

“True, but when is it that you do think, Prongs?” Remus quipped from beside you.

“Oi! You kiss my wife with that mouth?”

“Happily.” Remus’ hand snuck up from where it rested around your shoulders to tangle in your hair, bringing your lips down to his in an overstatedly tantalising kiss, tongue already out to sweep across your lips.

The sound of protests mixed with laughter from the other side of the compartment. You were eternally grateful for the lack of windows on the doors, yet you melted into the kiss nonetheless, never one to back down from teasing James.

When you came apart, Remus sported a smug smile he otherwise never flaunted, raising an eyebrow at James as if to say “and what about it?”

James was huffing in faux indignation, but his cheeks were tainted a beautiful red. Sirius looked more hungry than he ought to be on a train full of students.

“You know you cannot be doing that in the halls at Hogwarts, right?” James made out over what sounded like a gulp.

“Sure I do; ‘s why I did it now.” Remus’ Welsh accent always grew thicker when he was being teasing like this, a side of him James inspired more than anyone else.

“I wonder whether the little shits will be able to pick up on it,” Sirius mused.

“The little shits in question being our students?” you questioned, to which all three boys nodded without hesitation. Right.

“Pick up on what?” James asked then.

“Us. All of us.” Sirius’ eyes were flashing with the entertainment of someone planning thousands of scenarios and pranks all at once.

You all agreed not to keep it a secret should it come up, but to avoid the topic of your relationship with the students explicitly. Sirius had wanted not to have to change your dynamics and how you functioned together, while Remus wanted a certain atmosphere of distance and professionality with the students, and this was the perfect solution and compromise.

“With the way you lot behave, I reckon they’ll pick up on it within the first week,” you said with a faux sigh, to which Remus poked you in the side.

“Oh, is that how it is?” James raised an eyebrow at you, flashing his white teeth brightly. “How about we make it interesting, Mrs. Potter-Lupin-Black?”

“That is not my name,” you choked through a laugh at the same time as Remus rolled his eyes at James’ antics.

“Details, details.” James waved you off. “My question still stands.”

You righted yourself in your seat, letting Sirius’ foot go to plant yours more securely as you regarded James. You could tell the former boy’s eyes were steadfast on you. “What kind of interesting are we talking about, Professor Potter?”

“Godric, I love these new titles of ours,” Sirius sighed dreamily, leaning forward to rest his head on your knees now that you had edged to the end of your seat. With your eyes still on James, your hand automatically found his black curls, carding through them affectionately.

“We know you do, pup,” Remus quipped teasingly, earning him a blind slap on the leg from Sirius. “But yeah, what kinda interesting, Jamie?”

James had a devious look on his face synonymous with your Hogwarts years. “I reckon that we, in true Marauders fashion, should make a bet. How long it will take for the students to realise that some of us are dating, how long it will take to realise all of us are dating, or who they will guess first.”

Sirius’ head shot up at that with a scoff, clearly the expert on the matter. “Obviously, they will guess Moony and dolly first, they will be teaching a class together.”

“Uhm, no, have you heard yourself around us before, Sirius? Your flirting is outrageous at best, scandalous at worst.” James seemed to mull his over. “And Moony is too secretive and elusive, most people wouldn’t guess he acts on his feelings.”

“I feel like I should be offended by that?” Remus said in the form of a question, bunching his brows together in confusion. You patted his leg consolingly.

“If you’re going to talk about brazen flirtation, you have to take a look in the mirror, James Potter,” you added to the conversation. You weren’t sure who would be guessed first, but you wanted to add to the drama.

“Whatever do you mean, angel?” Everything about his face in that moment could be described as devilish.

“I’m placing my bets, Moony and Dolly, no questions,” Sirius declared.

“Cool, then you’ll lose. I’m betting you and either Remus or Y/N. Actually, it will be Remus because he blushes more easily.”

“I do not. It’s going to be Sirius and Y/N.”

“You’re all wrong, it will one hundred percent be James and Sirius. You two are incorrigible with each other.”

“Great. Then we’ve got ourselves one solid bet.” James was beaming, like this was the last piece of a puzzle coming together before the official start of your new adventure. It made you grow soft once more.

Sirius not so much. “What’s on the table, though, dearest Prongsie? What are we betting on?” There was an evident challenge in his voice, curiosity too.

James seemed to be thinking hard to come up with something enticing enough. “If we want to make this truly interesting, the winner gets to decide what the prize is. A free for all card.”

Remus shook his head immediately. “I don’t trust either of you with that kind of power.”

“I thought you said you trusted me with your life?” Sirius queried teasingly, though thread a bit more carefully given the reference.

“I do. But not with anything you want.”

“And what do you mean either – are you not worried what Y/N would do?” James questions in false offense.

Remus looks at you sideways with a lopsided smile. “Nah, not really.”

James and Sirius both nodded as if to say “yeah, that’s fair”.

You cocked your head at him, narrowing your eyes. “I say we do it. Bets are placed, whoever is correct in who is commonly assumed or declared to be in a relationship by students first gets to decide what they win – within reason.”

Sirius scoffed lightheartedly and opened his mouth to interject, but before he could, you continued. “And Lily gets to decide what is within reason. She will also be the one to determine when a couple is actually assumed by the students.”

Immediately, Remus places his hand on your thigh with a squeeze, almost as if in appreciation or approval and nods emphatically. “This is why we keep you around dovey, that’s the perfect solution.”

“I’ll give you a couple more reasons to keep me around.” You mirrored his earlier overly sensual kiss, dragging him to you by your fingertips beneath his chin, kissing him with tongue for but three seconds before pushing him back in his seat. He looked dazed and you all laughed.

“Enough of that now, I’m feeling left out,” Sirius declared, moving forward abruptly to scoop you up and place you sideways in his lap beside James, who immediately lifted your legs into his own lap. Sirius kissed all over the side of your face and neck, humming happily.

“Pardon, and what does that make me now?” Remus said scornfully, crossing his arms over his chest where he was left alone on the bench.

“Slow,” James replied through a grin. “Come here, silly.”

And though he huffed with faux contempt, Remus did move over to their bench, where James turned sideways so he could slot Remus between his legs, facing you and Sirius.

You sighed as you settled into this new arrangement, pleased with touching all of them with at least some part of your body, with hearing their voices laced with contentment and seeing the warmth return to their faces in real time.

Certain feelings might never ease out from your bones, but if you knew one thing for sure, it was that living at Hogwarts with the loves of your life and giving fresh-faced students the same childhood you were awarded there, you might get pretty damn close.

As you could see the castle emerging on the horizon, just some dozens of minutes away, you let a smile take over your face. It felt like there were miracles all around.

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whirlybirbs · 1 month ago

Note

Do you have anymore sharpshooter/zoro thoughts? I don't even watch one piece but that drawing was so cute and I want to hear more!!

— SWAN DIVE ; RORONOA ZORO ; ぞろ

summary: port d'beau proves to be anything but an easy job. you almost drown, zoro saves you. [set post-arlong, pre-alabasta] pairing: roronoa zoro / f!reader ; straw hat pirate wc: 2.7k tags: shameless potc reference, reader has a backstory, frenemies-to-lovers, an "oh" moment, mutual pining, the corset is a plot point, t+, no use of y/n a/n: i drew this a few days ago and here we are. i'm sure we've all seen the source material for this one — this scene actually altered my brain chemistry as a child and i'm still unpacking that to this day.

It was supposed to be an easy job.

Port d'Beau proves to be anything but.

Roronoa Zoro crosses his arms and leans back into the scarce shade on the Going Merry's deck. The mid-day heat is suffocating — and the swordsman can't help but pity the two girls high up the marina's cliffs.

The sounds of a party float through the air. Slow waltzes on strings, the tinkering of silver on porcelain, and laughter far too refined for his taste.

Overhead, the furled sails of the four-cannon caravel flap in the meager breeze rolling in off the sea. Waves lap at the ship's side and somewhere at the bow, Zoro can hear Luffy fidgeting. Sanji is no better, pacing and mumbling something about the heat. Usopp, to his credit, has given up entirely and surrendered himself to the shade with nothing but a peep.

The boys were forced to stay back while you and Nami played dress-up.

In all fairness, Nami did have a point when she shoved her finger in Zoro's face and said he was too well-known to pass as some upstanding gentleman. On top of that, news of Luffy's brand new bounty of thirty million berries is sweeping ports across the East Blue. There's no doubt the Marine branch stationed on this island — the Thirty-Ninth Division — would recognize their captain immediately. Sanji did whatever Nami said, like an obedient dog, and Usopp needed no convincing to tag along once he heard about the Marine presence.

Nami's plan was simple.

The papers had boasted about Port d'Beau's annual gubernatorial luncheon. Hundreds of high-standing families across the East Blue were invited to celebrate Governor Bidon's re-election and his daughter's engagement to the 29th Marine Division's Commodore. The guests pocket purses and that engagement ring was a sitting duck, just waiting for Nami's sticky fingers.

She'd sneak in alongside you — a key piece in the puzzle. You were a lady once, the daughter of a politician. You knew the ins and outs of the upper echelon's etiquette and formalities, something Nami had little grasp on when it came to burglarizing.

Once in, the entire banquet was theirs for the taking. Nami would steal what they could off the unsuspecting patrons, you'd keep the targets busy with idle chat over tea, and they'd high tail it out of there before dessert even hit the tables.

Easy.

Quick.

Fun, even.

The day proves to be anything but that for you.

The heat seems like proof you're in hell — and you furiously fan yourself as some Lieutenant named Pinard leads you away from the bustle of the party. The afternoon sun beats down on your shoulders and you exhale tightly, wishing for an inch more room in this corset. Nami tied it a bit too tight in her zeal.

Your lungs and ribs ache and you heft the petticoats beneath your skirt up into your hand as you step up onto the overlook.

Though the view of Port d'Beau is beautiful, it's one you've always sought comfort in — the view of the bustling port, the rolling waves, the marina below...

Lieutenant Pinard offers you a sweaty hand and you accept it with a grimaced smile. Keep up the act. Just about now, Nami is slipping away with a bundle of treasure and headed to the docks. Soon, you'll be out of this dress and back on the Going Merry.

You flutter your fan a bit harder as you swipe away a bead of cold sweat that runs down your temple, avoiding the wistful and adoring gaze of the spindly Lieutenant.

You're selling this whole act a little too well, but who can blame you?

Your whole life you've defied the expectations placed on a woman of your station. You have had no intention of sitting idly by like a wallflower. Etiquette classes were overshadowed by marksmanship. You had a gift for shooting, and though sport was rare on the cluster of islands making up your home, you excelled. Trophies and ribbons are half the proof of the shot you are.

The moment you stepped aboard the Going Merry, you thought you left petticoats, gossip, and high tea in the past.

And yet, here you are.

Your sweaty hand in Lieutenant Pinard's sweaty hand.

The heat feels worse up here. You wonder if Nami's made it to the docks yet. Just hold on a little longer, then you can excuse yourself from the party and disappear.

The chiffon ribbon beneath your chin, tying your hat to your head, flutters in the breeze — and you try to gasp in some of the cool air before it dissipates back into the stagnant summer heat. Sweat runs down the back of your neck and beneath the collar of your dress.

You fan yourself a little harder as Lieutenant Pinard begins to speak.

You can't bring yourself to look at him.

Instead, you try to breathe and lean against the cool stone of the battlement.

Port d'Beau has long since boasted about its impenetrable Fort Beaumont.

Zoro, as he tips his head back into his palms, understands the reputation. From the marina, Fort Beaumont has a bird's eye view of all the ongoings. That was why they were so quick to furl their sails, hiding the Straw Hats flag deep in the gulley, as they tied off in the marina under the guise of merchants.

He closes his eyes and wonders if he'll be able to get a wink of shut-eye in this heat. Nami should be back by now, with you in tow.

Up above him, on the cliffs, you're trying to swallow down the roll of nausea threatening to bring up the meager few bites of a finger sandwich you had an hour ago.

Your mouth is dry.

You can't breathe.

"—That is why I wanted to speak with you privately, my lady," the Lieutenant drawls on as you flutter your lace fan faster and faster, feet wobbling; he turns his back to hide his apparent flush, "I have never met a woman as beautiful, and... daring, I may even say—"

Suddenly, the world tips.

It's enough that you stagger and press your hands against the limestone battlement. Then, the world tips the other way. Your head feels funny; your body feels like it's diving headfirst into vertigo.

Oh.

Oh, you're fainting.

Annnnnnd, now you're falling.

SPLASH!

The Commodore blinks.

He turns around.

And you're gone.

Nami's got one foot onboard the Going Merry when you hit the water.

Zoro's head snaps up, his eyes widening at the sound of the splash from the cliffs; he's not the only one. The entire crew is rushing to the railing of the deck with confusion and panic on their faces.

"Nami—" Zoro begins, his voice is a low warning. He's already stripping his swords from his belt.

The thief gasps in horror.

"—Where the hell is our sniper?" he grits, deep and unamused. Zoro's eyes don't leave the splash once — because deep down, he already knows the answer to that question.

Nothing ever goes to plan with the Straw Hats.

Nami spies the sudden cluster of Marines up on the battlements and her gut sinks. Her hoard of stolen goods tumbles to the deck as she throws herself against the railing.

"Shit! Zoro, she can't swim!" Nami screams, frozen in fear.

The last of his swords hits the deck as he barks: "I know that!"

Zoro's eyes snap to the white echos of a wave from the splash, and a floating hat with a streaming emerald ribbon catches his eye.

Not good.

Not good!

What's worse is that Luffy sees it too, and the idiot is two beats from throwing himself off the edge of the bow before Zoro hauls his shirt over his head and smacks the Captain in the face with it.

"Don't even think about it," he grits out, wagging a finger in Luffy's face, "I won't drag your sorry ass up from the bottom too."

Any protests (whines) from Luffy are drowned out by the sound of Zoro's boots on the wooden deck as he takes a running start.

Sanji's tripping over his boots, trying to follow Zoro in, but he stops completely when Usopp calls out and points to the cliffs. "We've got trouble!"

The Marines are mobilizing.

"Sanji, time to get going," Nami panics, backing away from the railing as she realizes they will need to get you out of the water fast — and get the hell out of Port d'Beau faster.

"On it!" Sanji agrees, calling out to Luffy, "Time to move, Captain!"

Fast and strong, Zoro makes a break. With two long strides, he plants his boot on the railing and pushes off the bow to cut into the waves with a sharp dive.

The clear blue water is cool — enough that the initial splash makes Zoro's heart pound. But, what's worse for his heart is the sight of you rapidly approaching the bottom of the marina faster by the second, weighed down by a plume of petticoats and silk.

He curses to himself and pushes himself to dive faster as a harsh stream of air leaves a trail back to the shimmering surface above you both.

Now, as he barrels deeper into the water and tries to save their marksman from drowning, is probably not a good time to confront his feelings for you.

It's certainly not time to address the fact that the manufactured malice he fronts aboard the deck toward you is just that: fake. It's certainly not time to address the fact he has a well-guarded soft spot for you, nor the time to address the fact he can't help but wonder how one person can make him feel so damn weak.

So, he pushes them away, ignores the burn in his chest, and equates it to nothing more than a lack of oxygen.

They'll be time for that shit later.

Right now, he's busy wrapping his hands around your waist and trying to urge you up to the surface.

It proves to be an easier idea than in practice, though. Zoro huffs out an exhale of frustrated bubbles as your skirts tug him — and you — back down to the bottom.

And so, he ignores the guilt gnawing at his brain as he unceremoniously yanks the front seams of your dress open and clumsily slips you out of the layers of silk with his last breath. Calloused knuckles knock against the boning of your corset and the rough drag of fabric stings his knuckles.

The swordsman breaks the surface, gasping and coughing, just in time to spy a throng of Marines headed down the beach. In his arms, your head lolls back onto his shoulder. You haven't moved — not once, and Zoro's panic is only rising. Wet tendrils of your hair tangle across his neck as he hauls you towards the docks, your body hefted over his shoulder as he scrambles.

Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go.

One hand is on the back of your thighs. Your torso is thrown over his back. Your arms sway as he breaks into a controlled jog.

Up the plank, across the threshold of the dock, onto the hot deck of the Going Merry. He makes it, just in time for the lines to be cast and the sails to unfurl, but Zoro isn't even close to relaxing.

"If you die, I will kill you," he can't help it — his voice is stern, the low timbre snapping like a slap as he gently sets you down on the dock's wooden deck and pants. His hand braces against the back of your head as his body bends to hover over you.

You're not breathing, and water drips off Zoro's nose and lands on your cheek as he starts to panic — and then his eyes land on the tight front lacing of your corset.

Immediately, he's barking at Sanji. "Sanji! Knife, now!"

It's sacrilegious, sure, but Sanji doesn't really give a damn if it means you don't die. The pairing knife is handed off to Zoro in a flash, and the swordsman holds it like a weapon and not like a cooking implement. There's something poetic about that, but Sanji doesn't have the time to mull over why Zoro is so ready to wield a weapon for you.

Some other time, maybe.

Nami is barreling down the deck, her eyes wild. "What the hell are you doing—?!"

The lacing is sliced clean through in a flash of the steel blade. Your corset blooms open, and immediately you gasp — and water bubbles from your throat in a panicked cough that rifles you awake immediately.

You writhe, twisting on the deck to brace yourself on your elbow as you hack and cough. Your lungs burn and your throat is on fire and everything tastes like seawater. Hair hangs in your face while you try to breathe in that puddle on the deck of the Going Merry.

Zoro leans back on his knees, shoulders sagging, and feels a wave of relief wash over him as he hands off the pairing knife to Sanji. The swordsman is also trying to catch his breath — water running down his chest and arms — as his boots squeak against the deck. The cook takes it slowly, his mouth agape, as he lets out an exhale.

Then, gently, Zoro places a hand on your shoulder.

Slowly, you lift your head.

He's haloed by the sun and the bluest sky you've ever seen.

Roronoa Zoro looks beautiful.

It feels like you're seeing him for the first time — like you've been slapped across the face by divine intervention. It's like the ocean shook you by the shoulders and made you look directly in his eyes.

Maybe you're dead.

"Are you alright...?" he asks roughly, his eyes inspecting you over in a way that makes a newfound heat thrum through your veins. The sound feels different than all the other times he's spoken to you (i.e., snapped at you). This time, it's softer. Low and warm, like a warm meal. His earrings glint in the sun, and a drop of water runs down his neck and down, down, down his sternum.

You stare.

Then, like you suddenly realize just what sort of position you're in, you blink down at the thin chemise clinging to your figure. Every curve, every dip — it's all on display, and you can't help but go rigid.

Doesn't help that Zoro is realizing that little fact too. Your chest heaves out a panted breath and he has to physically tear his eyes away.

"I'm fine," you manage to grit out, turning your cheek as you slowly sit up, "I—"

"Go slow," he urges gently, his hand coming to fall along your lower back, "You took a pretty hard fall."

You push the wet, tangled hair out of your eyes and ignore the bloom of goosebumps his hand ushers in. You lean on your palms. Water runs off the tip of your nose.

When you speak, it's so soft it's nearly a whisper.

"...Thank you, Zoro."

Sanji shifts awkwardly above the both of you.

What the hell is going on?

Mosshead and the crew's beloved sniper never go more than two sentences without ripping into each other — everyone knows that. It's the way it goes. They can't stand one another. Zoro thinks their sniper is a delicate, spoiled, little princess, and their sniper thinks Zoro is a bullheaded, impulsive brute. Tit-for-tat. Grounded in reality. Unlike whatever the fuck is going on right now before his very eyes.

The swordsman's ears go red.

Sanji can't fucking believe it.

Zoro catches your eyes for a beat longer than he should have, and he swears something in the air just changed.

And you smile at him.

"Let's get you covered up," Sanji breaks the moment, half-tied between disbelief and fear. Maybe you did hit your head on the way down. The cook's jacket comes across your shoulders like a blanket.

Never in his life has Zoro ever been so thankful for shitty cook's interruption, or Nami's shouting, or Luffy's laughter, or Usopp's wailing. The entire crew spills onto the deck around you, sweeping you into worried hugs and doting touches — leaving Roronoa Zoro to wonder what the hell just happened.

It was supposed to be an easy job.

Port d'Beau proves to be anything but.

Because Zoro can't stop wondering if he should confront those feelings in his chest, and you can't stop wondering when those feelings for him ever took root in your own.

#swan dive #one piece zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro imagine #zoro x reader #op zoro x reader #zorro x you #zoro x y/n #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #one piece x you

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torawro · 2 months ago

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royal knight!caleb & princess!reader.

cw ━━ ! minors, ageless, and blank blogs DO NOT INTERACT. reader is written / portrayed as a curvy, thick black woman but you do not have to imagine it that way ! anyone and everyone is welcome to read <3. historical / medieval au so there will be use of language & rhetoric relative to that era ( i.e., aye = yes or indeed . . . . i did my best doing research ). caleb is a high ranking knight in the kingdom they live in and is referred to as 'sir' because of his status. reader is a princess of royal status. mentions / descriptions of blood and injuries, and contains violence sprinkled with a little bit of gore (???). depictions of murder / character death. a liiittleeee bit of religious imagery & references, not sure but adding it just in case. hints at caleb having psychological issues and / or mental instability. kind of yandere(ish) behavior if you squint; caleb is obsessed with & in love with the reader. he is also a wee bit condescending ( not to reader ). instances of caressing ( groping? ) and slow, sweet kisses. veryyy subtle manipulation (?) via intentional omission of the truth. sorry if im exaggerating with these tags lol. directly based off this post i saw a few weeks ago. i tried my best to proofread at 1am pls excuse any errors. let me know if i missed anything!

word count ━━ ! 3.9k

notes ━━ ! man…..🚬🚬🚬 i can’t believe i wrote this lmaaaoooooooooo like what. where did this come from even.....anyway hi everyone i’m back with another (short-ish) fic <3 my apologies it's been another two months since my last published work, you know what it is: it takes longer for me to put things out and i wanna make sure i put my best foot forward every time >< but whoop whoop here's to my second fic of the year! as u can see i have gotten into lads during this past month and some change....... and i swear, i really had no intention of writing for any of the guys any time soon, let alone the newest one..... i took a pause from working on my longer projects to write this LMFAOOOO. i honestly thought that if i really did have a burning desire to write about them, my first lads fic would have been about sylus cause he.....anyway i won't go on a tangent about him, but i sincerely hope u guys enjoy this one!!!!!! obviously this is my first time writing for any lads character so pls be kind to me. i also want to apologize if this characterization of caleb is weird or ooc, i haven't unlocked him yet but i have seen a lot of content of his story in relation to the mc, his lore, his voicelines, etc so i hope i did him justice!! reblogs + commentary are HEAVILY appreciated ♡♡♡.

THE SKY REMAINED DARK, BUT a deep navy hue began to seep into the heavens, soon giving way to the dawn; the early hours of the morning was nigh. The castle was silent— obviously, but still eerily so despite the hour. There was a draft that seeped through the miscellaneous cracks of the stone, the shutters, and the windows of the castle that had not been properly shut, and the brisk breeze that flowed inside caressed the walls with a whisper— quiet but forceful enough to sway the small flames of the candles. The unsteady flickering of the flames grazed and dimly illuminated the walls behind them. Upon its surface were fresh stains, which would permanently seep into the stone if not cleaned in time. The stains were red.

It was blood.

In the many corridors of the castle was a figure, trudging through the halls like a corpse that had risen from its resting place, exhaustion weighing down his every step down to the marrow of his bones. He was injured— not gravely enough to make him lose consciousness but enough to reopen the wounds he so haphazardly patched himself before returning to the kingdom.

His chambers in the keep, along with all the other higher-ranked Knights, was on the other side of the castle grounds. He should have made a left the moment the portcullis closed behind his heels so he could at least get patched up again, get some water, and something else for the pain. Instead, the soldier walked straight ahead, onward to the main structure of the castle, down the stretches of its veins, up the stairs– a path he had memorized after spending many a moon traversing it, sometimes without your knowledge.

But he needed to see you, and he was unsure if he would be able to wait until the sun’s ascension in just a few hours time to do so.

The knight was tired, and that slowed him down, but eventually he made it to your private quarters. He made sure to quiet his labored breathing and footsteps as much as he could; the king would have his head before he even made it to your chambers if he were to be discovered.

You laid underneath a thick blanket, the warmth of the fur against your clothed skin protecting you against the brisk cold. As comfortable as you were, however, tonight you had trouble staying asleep. It would greet you kindly, only to slip away from your embrace if you held it too tightly. Your eyelids were half-open, finally on the verge of drifting close again, when an abrupt but muffled thumping noise resounded on the wood of your door.

The sound caused your eyes to snap open with alertness, any waves of sleep that were about to wash over you retreated at the sound. You laid still, absently wondering if you were hearing things, but the noise reverberated in the air again, then three times— it was soft, as if the source of the sound was being careful not to be too loud.

As the sleepiness of the late hours continued to melt away, you began to remember what day it was, and your pulse quickened as a result.

He should have returned today, you thought. But could it be? It cannot possibly…

And yet, that possibility is what tugged your body forward to sit up and straight, and slide your legs out from underneath the layers of blankets. That possibility is what led you to slide your bare feet into your slippers, and move to swing the long, woolen robe on top of your nightgown. That possibility is what pulled you to the thick door of your chambers, and opened it by an inch to peek through the cracks.

The relief and subdued elation you felt when you saw the familiar features of Sir Caleb’s visage on the other side washed over you.

But that feeling faded as quickly as it came when you noticed the state Sir Caleb was in. While it wasn’t abnormal for him to have a deep scratch or a bruise somewhere, he looked . . . worse, somehow. And whatever it was seemed to reach deeper than just his physical injuries.

Without exchanging any words or outwardly questioning him, you carefully— for he winced at nearly every graze of your fingers on certain areas— led him into your room, allowing him to use your body as a crutch. Caleb let out strained puffs of air, both in relief that he didn’t have to carry the weight of his own body alone anymore, and with increasingly dwindling self-restraint.

He had hardly stepped foot in your bedchambers before; only about four steps past the threshold of the doorway at most, out of fear that his mere presence when he visited in your absence would become a noticeable, tangible thing. Like you’d be able to sense if he ventured too far in for too long, too many times.

Everything smelled like you. Your unique flowery scent was almost palpable with how it clung to every surface of your living space, even the air itself. The contrast between the fleshy softness of your body pressed against the cold, angular ridges of his armor was enough to make his breath catch in his throat and his pulse to miss a beat.

“M…milady.” Caleb croaked, his throat significantly lacking moisture to the point it almost ached to speak. At this point, the remaining strength in the knight’s body had become completely nonexistent; the sword he didn’t even have the strength to place back in its scabbard tumbled from his loosening grip onto the ground, the sound sharp and uncomfortably punctating.

“Sir Caleb”, you gasped, your grip tightening on whatever area of his stocky, towering figure you could reach. Both the suddenness of the sound of metal colliding with stone and your delayed realization of how serious his injuries were pulled your nerves all the more taut, the worried furrow in your brow growing more prominent.

Caleb’s legs gave out next, all while his heavier form still partially hung from your sleep laden frame. His arm slipped from around your shoulder as he descended to his knees, the movement clumsy enough to slightly throw you off your balance. The room was still dark enough that you did not readily see nor notice the blood that now permeated the folds of your nightdress.

The honorable knight— who did not quite look so on his knees like this— absentmindedly grasped at your calves, pulling another surprised noise from the back of your throat. It was as if making physical contact with you would steady his mind that swirled endlessly with fragmented thoughts, stained with the dark horrors that crawled from the depths of his subconscious, and keep him tethered to the plane of consciousness. The blood loss would soon catch up to him.

Silence descended upon your room, save for Caleb’s ragged breathing and your quiet, frayed inhales. He still held onto your lower legs like it was his lifeline, the mesh underside of his metal gauntlets sending a subtle shiver with each miniscule movement he made, but you did your best to silence any hitch in your breath or twitch in your muscles. Worry still festered underneath your skin, so much so that you were afraid if you moved, or even spoke, that Caleb might fall apart at your feet, considering his current state.

“Milady…” Caleb tried again, his voice still rough but a muted veneration was present underneath his words, as if your title was the beginning of a prayer. It was a thought that spurred another shudder to crawl across your flesh. “Milady, I have returned. The war with the kingdom to the east—Havencroft— is over now.”

The knight turned his head slightly so that his cheek was resting on the fat of your thigh, your nightdress being the only barrier between his skin and yours. Another stain of crimson leapt from the side of his face that rested on your leg to your clothes, but you could not see it from this angle. Caleb almost resembled a wounded animal, marking the territory that was once his after enduring an attack– not much for your sake, but purely for his own, as a reminder of sorts.

Even through the linen, you could feel the uneven puffs of warm air from his mouth fan across that small area on your thigh. Like a magnet attracted to a metal of the opposite affinity— a force yet to be explained or explored— your palm gravitated towards the knight’s armored shoulder. Whether it was an action of acknowledgement and commendation, to silently urge him off his knees, or as a means to steel yourself was unclear even to you.

“The enemies… have been defeated.” Each syllable felt delayed, each word tumbled from Caleb’s lips like a wispy trail of smoke from burning incense, and the casual hold you had on his steel shoulder imperceptibly tightened when you felt his gloved hands trail up the back of your legs. His movements were slow—almost reluctant and experimental— but deeply rooted in reverence, as if this was the first and last time he would be able to touch you so boldly.

The knight below knew better. He was well aware that his actions more than just bordered on bold, they fully reveled in it– embraced it, even. But he was having a significant amount of trouble caring enough to stop himself. It was always a difficult task reasoning with the thing that resided in the folds of his unconscious— especially and specifically when it came to you.

Caleb awaited you to halt the soft caress of his palms, either verbally or by action, but neither came. You were rendered silent, breath slightly restrained as you stared down at him from on high, your palm still resting upon his armor. A part of you was swayed by the currents of curiosity to see what he’d do next, just to see what might happen you allowed this moment to persist a bit longer.

And the other part…might have enjoyed this. It might have enjoyed the sight, the sound, the sensation of his iron skin, the subtle yet unknown metallic aroma that washed over your senses, mixed with his signature musk.

So he resumed, both his movements and his speech, which were languid and slowed. “Those that wished… to do harm to the kingdom, to you…They have been slain.”

The way his head shifted against your leg was like a cat nuzzling itself against its human companion. The weight of his body pressed upon you like this was even a bit endearing, and it began to melt your heart. Caleb’s hands glided from the backs of your knees down to the base of your ankles, only to carefully ascend back up the valleys and shores of your legs. In his ascent the hem of your dress got caught in between the gaps of his fingers, causing it to steadily rise like a curtain and expose the bare, supple brown skin hiding beneath it.

His touch was so gentle, like dragging the sharpened edge of a knife against one’s skin in fear of accidentally cutting it. As someone who has done so much damage and has scarcely been shown this kind of gentleness, it was a bit jarring to see himself embody it so naturally. “...The lot of them. I made sure of it.”, he continued, the knight’s noble heart raced so frantically about his chest, he thought it might reverberate and echo against his chest plate if it were to beat any more intensely.

Even with the sizable gauntlets weighing down his hands, Caleb was still able to tell just how delicate and cushiony your flesh was, and he released a barely-there, shaky exhale of his own when his fingers lightly clenched around it. If he didn’t know any better, he might have thought he was on the brink of death and was kneeling before the gates of heaven.

It was nearly impossible for you to distinguish the sensation of the carmine substance being smeared against your bare skin with each inch Caleb caressed, because your nerves had put all its effort into focusing on his breath fanning across your legs and the cold surface of his armor. At some point, the hand laying on his shoulder levitated to rest atop his head instead, the area unadorned without his helmet; a shiver rolled down the knight’s spine at the gesture. Sweat dampened the rich, umber strands of his hair, and the heat radiating from the crown of his head rivaled the one building underneath your face and chest.

“The army of the east kingdom, boasting numbers of over eight-thousand men, have all…. fallen. All of their strongest knights…”

Caleb’s words sounded a bit muffled as his mouth was slightly pressed against your leg, his pillowy lips continued to trail across the expanse of increasingly exposed limbs, “...their battalions, their village militia units…”

By this point, Caleb’s strong sense of rationale, his logical consciousness that usually never steered him wrong had finally caved in on itself. The void that it left in its absence would now be filled and controlled by the iniquitous thoughts that plagued him day in and day out. Such immoral, perhaps unhealthy, thoughts that always had you at the front and center of it all.

“...Even the gentry. Witnessing them …attempting to wield a polearm was almost pathetic. I would have pitied them, but one way or another, they would have attempted to harm you and our kingdom in some way, at some point…”

There was a brief pause, the surface of his parted lips and that of his artificial armor took turns savoring the feel and smell of you, even being so brash as to place tender almost-kisses across your thigh. You gasped silently at that, and the reflexive clench of your fingers in the tufts of his hair brought forth something of a purr that vibrated in the back of his throat. Embedded within that imperceptible purr in his deep voice lurked something more dangerous you did not notice— sharp, like having a dagger pressed against one’s jugular.

“And I cannot allow that.”

Caleb continued to murmur about his achievements of war into your chestnut-tinted skin as if he were talking directly into it and not you— as if it were actively listening. And with the way your nerves sparked and crackled with each syllable he pronounced, you could easily become convinced that it was.

Aye, he could not even pretend to spare an ounce of compassion for Havencroft’s gentrymen, or their local militia, their skilled battalions and armies, nor their most honorable knights. Not after their plans and intentions were discussed amongst the king’s council just months prior, which served as the reason why he and the rest of the kingdom’s army were dispatched there in the first place.

Swine, the lot of them.

The same could be said for his own king’s council members— your father’s most trusted political companions and advisors— that had the gall to speak ill of and scheme against the king and his realm.

The balls to speak ill of you when they believed there were no listening ears around; about how your future ascent to the throne would be this kingdom’s downfall, about how His and Her Majesty should have tried for more children in hopes of a young lad.

He could only thank the gods that he returned from his knightly travels when he did, for the dark-haired soldier knew within seconds of overhearing such idiotic arrogance what his next course of action should be.

Like some kind of cunning animal whose only purpose was to hunt and kill, Sir Caleb watched and waited for the opportune moment to present itself before closing in to strike. And that moment arrived when he realized the two men were making their way to the western-most side of the main castle, where the kitchen and laundry rooms were located. He sneered at how clever they thought they were being, choosing that specific place because they were aware most of the help and servants had retired for the evening.

Without a moment’s hesitation, when he had heard enough drivel, he attacked, administering two swift but fatal slashes to their vital points— one for each man. The pain from moving like that when his injuries had been previously reopened nearly caused his legs to buckle, but he remained steady and quick. This had to be quick, for it would be troublesome if they made noise or if he was too sloppy with his timing and execution. Blood splattered on the nearby walls from the sheer force of his swing, the blade cutting through the councilmen like a cleaver cutting through a slab of tender meat. He made a note to himself to come back and clean any remnants that remained later.

The councilmen fell to their knees, staring and cowering from Sir Caleb in confusion, shock, and unadulterated fear at the realization that their lives might end that very night, and that someone might have heard them.

Surely they blathered on in hushed voices, demanding to know the meaning behind his actions, begging for the knight to spare their lives, frantically questioning him if he had heard them say anything particularly controversial. But Caleb paid no mind and did not bother responding. All he did was stare at them, his eyes as empty as a weathered piece of parchment with no ink on it, his salmon-colored lips resting in a straight line that spoke nothing of his true thoughts.

Caleb’s gaze alone deeply unsettled them, for they had never seen him look like that before.

On his honor as a knight, Caleb would die before he let any harm— relative or distant, real or perceived, indirect or direct— fall upon you if it was in his power to prevent it. Because not only did he pledge his allegiance to the ruler of this land, but to you as well. And in performing his obligatory duties as a knight— guarding you from near and far, being graced with your kindness, your wit, your smile—it was inevitable that he would fall in love with you at some point along the way.

And wasn’t it a good thing, a true virtuous thing, a normal thing to do what you can for the one they loved? To keep them safe?

And so, with that resolve embedded in his heart, the knight Sir Caleb would do what he could, and did what he must when the steel of his blade at last collided with the mens’ uvula. The last thing those so-called loyal councilmen saw was his void eyes, and the slightest upturn in the corner of his lip.

But you need not worry or be privy to the gritty details. All you needed to know was that he fulfilled his duty in protecting you, in protecting this kingdom you loved dearly and would govern someday. He would see through this role until the day he could no longer.

Aye, you did not need to know that the blood that had now seeped into the fabric of your pretty lilac nightgown and smudged on his face was fresh; you did not need to know that in some other part of this very castle, two people that had been around since your youth had drawn their last breath, never to be seen again; you did not need to know that the faintest hint of guilt and regret for his actions was snuffed out the moment his eyes met your visage. You did not even need to know of the tender affection that he harbored for you– at least, not yet. A separate time for that should arrive soon, he would pray on it.

And now, all Caleb needed was to hear it from you. That you were proud of him.

“I hope my efforts in battle were satisfactory to you, milady. That my efforts …in keeping your safety and interests of the monarchy at heart pleases you.”

The knight's lips continued to drag across your skin in a lackadaisical manner, its touch at some point turning into undeniable kisses— pecks so light and fleeting you could have imagined it.

But you weren’t. You knew it to be so because the phantom sensation that was left behind after each one was as real as the ground you stood upon.

You were indeed proud of the knight before you, on his knees revering you with his mouth like you were some kind of holy thing that might disappear into thin air. For all of his years here, you have seen the scrapes, the faded scars on his ungloved hands, a limp in his gait or a straggle in his step, and you felt sympathy for him. You sympathized with him for having to sustain a number of different injuries in the name of your kingdom and its values. But seeing him hurt also inspired a great deal of gratitude within you, and you always made sure to take time at night before you fell asleep to thank the Lord above for uniting your paths– even though the two of you were on slightly different social standings. You secretly hoped that one day, that fact might change.

This is why you had no problem in saying that, “From what you have told me, Sir Caleb, your endeavors in battle are indeed quite….satisfactory to me,” Your words were momentarily interrupted with a sound that sounded suspiciously close to a pleasurable sigh, your fingers absently combing through his hair as you continued to speak, “So I must thank you, for doing your duty so well, and apologize that you were so badly wounded in the name of this kingdom. I truly appreciate all that you do.”

The words of sincere gratitude that spilled from your plush lips only excited the muscle beating wildly in Caleb’s chest, and they were enough to spur his heavy hands to glide higher underneath your gown, moving to the backs of your thighs once again. As his lips persevered in its affectionate assault of your legs, his palms mindlessly cupped the full roundness of your buttocks and gave it a slight squeeze, effectively losing himself in the suppleness of your curved body.

His name, without the proper prefix, was about to fall from your tongue, but you swallowed it down in exchange for something else. “This kingdom is— I am quite fortunate to have someone so capable…so strong and valiant at our disposal. Thank you, Sir Caleb, you have done well.”

And that was all it took for a quiet groan to be pulled from Caleb’s throat. A part of him hoped you didn’t hear it, he was already behaving so shamelessly.

But another part hoped that you did, so maybe then you’d realize without him having to potentially embarrass himself how much he cared for you, craved you, and impacted him so deeply.

“Thank you, milady. You are too gracious to me. I am unworthy of your praises, but will humbly accept them.” One palm resumed its directionless roaming to map out your lower body while the other remained on buttocks, interrupting his own reply by offering your skin doting, airy kisses in between. His reddish violet eyes were somewhat hooded when his gaze flickered up to look at you once more.

“I will continue to do my utmost…to serve you and your kingdom.... to the best of my ability.”

( # ) @smiley-babe @ramonathinks @dollwrites @valentineluvu @rinsko . my apologies if u did not want to be tagged. let me know if you want to be tagged in my future works!

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katsukis-wifi · 11 days ago

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Single For The Summer

☆ katsuki bakugou x f!reader

★ modern au / social media / college au / loosely based on this song

☆ sfw / slow burn-ish / tension + banter heavy / reader recently single

★ word count: ~3k

☆ warnings: cursing, strong language, suggestive references, thirst traps, implied past relationship (reader), lots of yelling via text, one (1) very flustered bakugou

“Spotting sounds fun,” you said, quirking an eyebrow.

“But I already did my upper body sets. Mina said we were doing legs today?”

“She lied,” Bakugou said flatly.

Katsuki wasn’t crazy about social media. He was a young adult, he kept up with the times and all, but he mostly used it to check in on his friends.. When it came to his own profile? Zero posts. Decent profile picture, and the most basic-ass username he could think of: BK0420.

Still, when he had nothing to do, he’d scroll through random videos or tap through people’s stories without really thinking. It wasn’t his thing– but sometimes, it filled the silence.

Today, one post made the silence loud.

He was tapping through people’s stories, not even really paying attention, when he stopped dead in his tracks.

There you were.

On Mina’s story, posing in the mirror beside her, with the same stupidly gorgeous smile he couldn’t get out of his head. You looked–God, you looked insane. Like you knew what this photo was going to do to him.

But the part that really got him?

#singleforthesummer @yn/ln

He muttered under his breath, “What the fuck...”

He pulled his phone away from his face and closed the story for a second, blinking at the wall like it would explain what he had just seen. Then, he tapped back onto the story, clicking your tagged username.

His breath hitched.

Bakugou wasn’t the type to stalk your account on the regular – yeah, he thought you were hot, but he didn’t want to look at your boyfriend’s ugly face all the time.

This time?

No posts. No story highlight. Just a brand new profile picture – which was shamelessly a thirst trap.

You finally were done with that loser.

It was no secret – Bakugou wanted you bad. He never shut up about it. Whenever your boyfriend came up, Katsuki had two settings: pissed, and pissed-er. He made it very clear: he thought the guy was a total dick. Kirishima could probably write a book titled Shit Bakugou’s Said About That One Guy She Dates.

But now?

Now you were single.

Right on cue, a notification lit up his phone.

GC: [future dropouts + katsuki] katsuki: y/n and her troll thing broke up?? kirishima: BRO. KATSUKI. YOU GOTTA GET ON THAT, LIKE, YESTERDAY. kaminari: need to ask lmfao mina did you KNOW y/n was single and just decided not to fill bakugou in?? mina: no, i knew she was single and wanted to announce the good news on her behalf with a hot thirsttrap when she felt ready yk kaminari: LMFAOOO mina: no because let me walk you through my mastermind - i knew fuckass katsuki would never hit her up unprovoked even if he knew she was single SO i figured a hot story was the perfect excuse katsuki: ????? when did they split mina: like a month ago? thats when she told me at least

Bakugou’s jaw went slack.

A whole fucking month?! And no one thought to fill him in?

kirishima: MINA….A MONTH????

Katsuki dragged a hand down his face, then dropped back onto his desk chair like someone had punched him in the chest.

He glared at the screen again, thumbs hovering over the keyboard.

What the hell was he even supposed to say? “Hey, you looked fine as fuck on Mina’s story, we should hang out”? Jesus.

He was in genuine disbelief.

mina: ok hate me all u want but she was lowkey pulling hella huzz and i didn’t wanna mess up her game sero: not for nothing bakugou is a little late to the game LMFAOOO mineta tried to hit her up like three weeks ago when he heard. also she posted about it on her spam account a MINUTE ago

“Fuck all the way off…” Bakugou muttered out loud.

What the fuck was a spam account?

And why the fuck was he not following it to see these VERY IMPORTANT life updates of yours?

katsuki: what’s the @ ? katsuki: I’m so fr if one of you doesn’t put me on, you’re all dying

Bakugou never ended up sending you that message.

It’s not that he didn’t want to – he just genuinely had zero idea what to say. He had plenty of encouragement; his friends constantly advised him on how to approach you. But honestly? You being single didn’t take the pressure off. It just made it worse.

And Mina wasn’t helping when she reminded him, “If you don’t make a move on her, someone else will. Trust me. She’s shown me.”

So now?He didn’t have to worry about your sorry-ass ex-boyfriend anymore.

He had to worry about how many guys were slumming it in your DMs.

Great.

This was the issue that had taken over Katsuki’s mind. Doing chores, he wondered what to say to you. When he saw his friends, he asked them if there were any updates on you. When he lay awake at night, he contemplated what could come from a bold message to you. Even now, at the gym, mid-workout, getting himself situated at the pull-up bar, he was still thinking about it. About you.

And then a familiar voice cracked through his headphones.

“Oh my gosh, Bakugou!” He shot up an eyebrow and turned around, scanning the area for the voice when he very quickly noticed a pink silhouette speeding toward him, waving happily.

“Oh-em-gee, what are you doing here? This is such a fun coincidence!” Mina waved her hands around while she spoke, making dramatic expressions and overcompensating for something she was obviously hiding.

He stared at her, deadpan, “You stupid or something? I come here at the same time every day. You know this, idiot.”

He turned back around, reaching up to start his set, but kept half an ear open. If she wanted a favor or a sparring partner, she could just say it.

“That’s so true! That’s so true,” Mina nodded frantically. “I must not have realized it when I showed up! You always work out at this time!”

She was lying. Badly.

“Why are you talking to me right now?”

Mina’s eyes widened. Then she crossed her arms and let out an over-the-top huff, pouting as she stood. “Jeez! Sorry for wanting to have a chat with my good friend at the gym! Gosh!”

“Yeah, well, if you really just wanted to chat, you wouldn’t be acting so damn weird. Do you need something from me, or are you just-”

“Girl! You left me at the stairmaster! What the fuck?!”

Another voice cut in from behind him – and Bakugou froze. Completely caught off guard.

Mina’s annoyed pout shifted into a mischievous grin as she tilted her head and waited for him to let go of the bar and turn around.

“Sorry!” she called back, chipper. “I just went to use the bathroom and you’ll never guess who I ran into!”

Bakugou dropped from the bar, already snapping his gaze back at Mina, when he saw you trailing behind her with a pissed off look…and a really flattering gym set that made him question his entire life.

“You’re fucking dead,” Bakugou said, just loud enough for Mina to hear.

She ignored his comment, stepping aside like she was presenting a prize on a game show to make some space for you.

“Ta-da!” she whispered under her breath.

You finally caught up, giving Mina a flat look before turning your attention to the guy she “ran into” – only to freeze for a half second when you realized who it was.

“Oh,” you said, catching yourself mid-step. “I didn’t know you worked out here.”

Bakugou stared at you like you’d just roundhouse kicked him in the jaw. That set? That stupidly flattering gym set? He didn’t even believe in fate, but this felt like the universe had beef with him, clearly.

“Yeah. Every day,” he replied, trying to sound normal and absolutely failing.

You blinked. “Well, that’s cool. I just started tagging along with Mina a couple of weeks ago. It’s more fun to with a friend, y’know?”

You gestured vaguely, then crossed your arms under your chest like you wanted him to break eye contact.

Mina clapped. “Ugh, this is such a great coincidence! My two good friends, in the same place, lookin’ cute and sweaty – we should work out together! Or stretch! Spot each other! I’m just brainstorming!”

Bakugou gave her a look like he was mentally setting her on fire.

You, on the other hand, were trying to suppress a laugh. “Spotting sounds fun,” you said, quirking an eyebrow. “But I already did my upper body sets. Mina said we were doing legs today?”

“She lied,” Bakugou said flatly.

You shrugged before turning to Mina, “You lied?”

Mina placed a hand over her heart, gasping dramatically, “You two are literally so rude to me. You hate me. I know it. I try to orchestrate one beautiful moment of friendship and all I get is slander.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Bakugou muttered.

You tilted your head, studying them both for a moment. “Is that why you were acting weird? You knew he’d be here?”

He didn’t answer immediately–just stared at you like he was torn between punching a wall or sprinting out of the building. Then he scratched the back of his neck and muttered, “Yes. And she’s just annoying.”

You smiled – small, but real. “Thought so.”

A beat passed. You gestured at a bench near him. “Were you planning on using that?”

He blinked. “Uh–no. You can. Or we could…I mean–” He cleared his throat, straightening his posture. “Wanna finish our workouts together?”

Your brows raised slightly. Not a total surprise, but close.

“Only if you don’t wanna train alone,” he added quickly, looking away. “Not trying to invade your space or anything.”

“No, I wouldn’t mind!” you said, a little too fast. You caught yourself, smoothing it over with a calm shrug. “Yes, sure, why not?”

Mina looked at you two like she was watching her OTP become canon in real time.

But then– buzz buzz.

Your phone lit up. You glanced at the screen and sighed. “Shit. I think I have to cut this short – it’s my boss. Work thing.”

Bakugou’s jaw twitched, but he gave a short nod. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

You gave him an apologetic look, gave Mina a little wave, then turned, phone already to your ear as you walked toward to exit.

Mina stared at you as you left like she’d just watched the final scene of a canceled show.

“NOOOOO,” she groaned, dramatically collapsing onto the bench. “COME BACK! MY DREAMS WERE LITERALLY COMING TRUE.”

But you were already out the door, not even looking back at the pair of them.

Bakugou sighed, picking up his water bottle from the ground and dragging a hand down his face. “You planned that whole thing, you’re not fuckin’ slick.”

“I was so close to greatness,” she groaned. “I could taste the sexual tension between you two. It was delicious. Like protein powder if it were crack.”

He rolled his eyes and turned away. “You’re actually so fucking weird. Remind me never to ask you to be my wingwoman.”

“Not true,” she grinned. “You have zero game! None! But, it’s fine– I’ll be officiating your wedding when my work here is done, thank you very much.”

Bakugou scoffed and muttered something that sounded like a threat.

Mina only beamed wider.

GC mina: just want it on record that I watched bakugou and y/n EYEFUCK each other at the gym and end the conversation like nothing happened. katsuki: that’s NOT what fucking happened kaminari: excuse me???? context. Asap. mina: [blurry chaotic photo of the two of them mid-convo.] Live footage, ur welcome all. kirishima: OHHHHH SHIT!!!!! katsuki: you’re actually psychotic. when and why the fuck did you even take that mina: doesn’t matter. You both looked hot. It’s actually a crime against humanity that the two of you didn’t start macking on the spot. kaminari: i’m dead she was right there and you still got no play??? yeah…this is going to take longer than we thought chat katsuki: she literally had to leave because of a work problem I invited her to join me and she said yes. sero: ok?? if she wants you so bad then dm her Or even easier Just request her spam mina: DUDE JUST FOLLOW HER SPAM She’s so fucking funny on there and she’s always posting HOT selfies. katsuki: Yeah, not doing that. She’s gonna think I’m a fucking creep. mina: It’s not creepy, you’re just a pussy, She posts the best shit. I literally shed a tear whenever her selfies grace my eyes kaminari: nah cuz if it were ME I would never let her walk out that gym without at least a number. katsuki: i was literally in the middle of my workout trying not to blow up the place. Can we drop this shit? sero: if u don’t dm her i’m gonna do it and ask her for lunch Or i’m gonna steal ur phone and do it on your behalf katsuki: do either of those things and we can fr square up. don’t try me. kirishima: pause. You invited her. she said yes. And you STILL don’t wanna message her….. broplease i’m losing hope REF DO SOMETHING!!!! katsuki: i swear to god i’m not in the mood She had to leave for work shit, that’s all. I wasn’t trying to make a fucking move. mina: you can all just ignore him because he’s LYING THROUGH HIS MF TEETH. Yall were both giving each other that look. I saw it. it moved my heart katsuki: bro WHAT ARE YOU EVEN TALKING ABOUT

Some days had passed since the last encounter you and Bakugou had, an event your good friend Mina was still living vicariously through.

“I just think you two look super good together,” she said, fanning her hand wet nails dramatically. “And, I promise you, there’s no harm in sending him a flirty little message. I’ll even give you his number if you want, I’d never steer you wrong.”

You laughed, glancing up from your phone as you both sat criss-cross on the floor of her dorm. She painted her nails with precision while you aimlessly scrolled.

“Okay, but I just broke up with Neito, what, two months ago?” you said. “I’m gonna look like a bop.”

Mina scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Okay, I love you, but literally no one was rooting for you two. Like, you know you were out of his league, right?”

You shrugged, flicking your thumb down your feed, “Hindsight’s 20/20.”

She clicked her tongue and leaned over, peeking at your screen. “$5 says you’re looking at his socials right now.”

You angled your phone away, “No.”

She raised a brow.

“.....Yes. Maybe. Shut up.”

She grinned smugly. “See? You like him. And he doesn’t even have any pictures posted! That’s how I know it’s serious– you’re pressed over a guy with zero selfies.”

You groaned and threw your head back against the side of her bed. “Girl– he’s hot, obviously, and we’re into each other or whatever. But he’s also like… a human grenade? He’s so intense. What if I text him and he blows up? I’m so serious, by the way.”

“You literally couldn’t be more wrong,” Mina said, chuckling as she slapped your arm lightly. “He’s one of my best friends. He only acts like that because he doesn’t talk to women. He gets all…intense. But he’s not a scary guy.”

“Yeah, maybe not to you,” you muttered, eyes flicking back to your phone. “Like, I feel like he could either kiss me or yell at me at any given moment, and I wouldn’t know which until it was happening.”

“Oh, so you’re complaining about hot sexual tension?” she teased, laughing out loud as the words left her mouth. “That man wants you. I’d show you receipts, but he’s my friend, so just trust me. He wants you and doesn’t know what the hell to do about it.”

Right then, your screen lit up with a new notification from your spam account.

Someone had just requested to follow it.

You blinked.

Bakugou Katsuki.

“Mina.”

“What?”

“He just requested my spam.”

Mina nearly dropped the nail polish. “YOU’RE LYING.”

You scrambled to accept it, hands shaking. “I didn’t even know he knew I had a spam. My name’s not even on it.”

“Bitch, I barely knew you had a spam! This man is so deep in the trenches.”

You both stared at the screen like it had asked you a riddle.

“Maybe he followed by accident?” you offered weakly, already pulling up his profile to confirm it was real. Tagged in three posts. No bio. Same profile pic.

“Don’t even start with that,” Mina said, pointing her nail file at you. “Explain how you accidentally follow a locked spam with no name on it? He is invested.”

You didn’t respond to her, refreshing your screen until anything new appeared.

Bakugou Katsuki liked your post.

You tapped it.

It was on old mirror selfie. From months ago. You were posed provocative, all confidence and angles, captioned: “like if u want me.”

Suggestive. Flirty. Bold.

You blinked. “Mina.”

“Please tell me good news, I love good news.”

“He liked a thirst trap. From November.”

“Oh my GOD!”

You grabbed her by the wrist. “That means he scrolled. Like, really scrolled. That post isn’t even recent!”

“He’s digging,” she gasped. “He wants you so bad he’s literally excavating. Katsuki Bakugou is clicking through your spam account with sweaty gym fingers, doing research. I used to pray for times like this.”

Your heart was racing, you could barely even look at your phone.

“What should I do?” you asked. “Should I post something? Should I hit him up?”

“You do nothing,” Mina said immediately, eyes wild as she shook you by the shoulders. “You should wait and let this man COOK. He’s plotting on you right now. He followed your spam and liked a single thirst trap from the archives. You don’t interrupt a man mid-plot.”

You laughed–half crazy, half sick with nerves. Your thumb hovered over your phone again. Nothing new.

Then: a message notification slid across the top of your screen

BK0420

didn’t know u looked like that off-campus.

you always post like that? or were you just hoping i’d see that one?

You screamed.

Mina screamed.

And somewhere, not far away, Bakugou put his phone face down on the bed. Heart pounding like he just ran a fifty-yard dash…and immediately regretting everything he’d ever said in his life.

#my frst fic on this acc so nervous #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha headcanons #bnha imagines #bnha fic #mha fic #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you

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mrs-bluemarine · 27 days ago

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Hey, so remember that cyber bullying is lame as fuck and we don't like people who do that? *edited with more information

*Second edit to this post. Rot uses she/it pronouns. I know this now, but during making this post I was unaware, so below the cut I referred to her with they/them, before correcting myself in my first edit. I do apologize for misgendering her, as that was not my intention. I hope you can understand, thank you for reading

Content warning for talk of bullying, body shaming, threats of harm, joking about sexual trauma, and like, manipulation?

So the tl;dr is there's a person who I've been recently warned about that's rejoined the selfship community. They've hurt two people I know personally and care deeply for. I'm making this post because they don't wish for the attention to be on them, which I completely understand

I don't have any personal connection to this person, however I value the words of these two people (who I will call Mutual-A and Mutual-B) and I only wish for their safety and comfort. I do not want any harm or rude things sent to this blog, simply block and move on

Reblogs would be appreciated, and I ask for people to at least skim over what I talk about under the read more. I don't feel comfortable knowing that my other mutuals interact with a person who's harmed people that I care for

^ their new user name, since I don't want to type here and accidentally find this places where it shouldn't be. I do believe they had a different selfship blog here, that has since disappeared, I think they deleted it, since I had the original blocked and this one wasn't.

Now like mentioned previously, I have no ties to this person and the only "interaction" I've had with them was seeing the incredibly rude and disgusting things they've said about Mutual-A. As a nonsharer myself and someone who fights with my mental issues, I don't think shaming someone's body and outright wishing physical violence on people who share your comfort characters is a sane or normal thing to do. If these screenshots look familiar it's because they've been taken from a post about this person in the past, when this was originally happening

Again, talk of body shaming and wishes of harm (which no matter how silly is still a threat)

________________

As for this second person, Mutual-B, what they've been through with them was some time ago. While Mutual-B wasn't a victim of harassment to as big of scale as Mutual-A, I still think their feelings on the matter are important to highlight. I don't have screenshots of these ordeals in particular, only word of mouth, but I trust this person deeply, and never before have they tried to bad mouth anyone without reason. On multiple occasions with this person Mutual-B has told me they threatened to call out B as a p.ro.shipper, something THEY ARE NOT, simply for reblogging or interacting with posts with tags they didn't already have filtered out. I've know B for a while now and I can tell you that it's simply not true

Warning for jokes of sexual trauma/SA and manipulation

________________

That's all. Once again reminding to NOT attack this person, just block and move on. For a community built on self love and comfort I don't find any of this shit to be acceptable to have in it

________________________________

EDIT, because apparently we're not done here.

Since making this post, this person (will be referring to them/her as Rot) has since made a post addressing the situation. I'm also adding on more screenshots found by myself and others (apologize for the quality of some, as they're taken from my computer due to the picture limit) Going to go ahead and add another content warning for talk of SA/a character who has committed it, will add more warnings if needed

First thing Rot talks about in her post is how her interaction with Moot-A was a year and a half ago, which isn't true, right now it's been barely over a year and two months ago. I feel like this is a way to try to paint us badly by "Bringing up stuff from way back in the past", I understand a few months difference isn't much, this is a tiny nitpick I'm sure but it still didn't settle right with me. I can also understand if this was just plain misremembering.

Second point, as for the warning above, Rot makes it clear that she ships herself with a canonical rapist, J.immy from the game Mouthwashing. The fact he assaulted his coworker is incredibly important to the story of the game, there is no denying it or any chance that this could be some gross misinterpretation. Not that Rot tries to deny this. She understands who Jimmy is. She just choices to ignore it.

________________

And I find that really fucking disturbing. Considering how she assures people she doesn't condone his actions and how she says she takes SA seriously, then why the fuck would you even ship with him in the first place? Would also like to point out that if you do choose to ignore the worst flaw of his character... there's still so much more to him that's simply bad. But that's irrelevant/personal opinion. J.immy is a well written character and villain, I can agree, however he is a man who should not be touched with a ten foot pole

Considering a lot of her harassment towards A was about how bad A was for "mischaracterizing" a shared F/o and how A diverged from canon, and how much she disliked A for it, I find it very hypocritical for her to ignore J.immy's biggest flaw. The fact she doesn't mention his actions in game isn't something I didn't notice either, whether that's intentional or not I'm not sure, but it still feels gross

She and others also mention the character K.enjaku. However, I have not watched/read J.J.K. so I have no comment on that.

My final note on this is simply. I don't care if you ship with villains, I myself have multiple characters that are villains or bad people that I hold dearly. (this is a reason why i'm hesitant to talk about this in particular) however. There's just some things and characters you shouldn't fucking touch.

The last thing I will add to this edit is her stance on pro.shipp.ing. She's reprimanded past friends for reblogging posts from pro.shippers, she's threatened to call them out as pro.ship for it. She also pointblank puts on her blog that she doesn't want that part of the community to interact with her. Except she still continues to reblog posts with the pro tags. People make mistakes, but the fact she's scolded and threatened people for doing the same while these posts get to stay on her blog upsets me

**I've also been given screenshots of dark content she's reblogged. Now I do agree with the statement that dabbling in darker themes with ships is fine (there's some big scary ""n*ance"" in that comment). I won't shame someone for enjoying fucking idk kidnapping or unhealthy relationship dynamics. Again, I don't think I'm the right person to play holier than thou on a high horse, but I feel it's worth mentioning since someone went as far as to send me those screenshots.

Warning for allusions to SA in the 3rd/nonfiltered post

________________

^^ last screenshot is added simply because nonsharervents has a "bad rep" because OP is neutral to/allows pro.shippers to interact

________________

#idek what tags to use so i guess community tagging this??#selfship community #self shipping #oc x canon #f/o x s/i #f/o community

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bonuscatart · 4 months ago

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If G3 My Little Pony had Tumblr

🥥 coconuts-about-summer reblogged

🍃 whistle-while-you-thistle Follow

going to the beach is all fun and games until a grumpy crab Gets You

#right on my nose #<- prev ouch #a crab pinched me yesterday while I was gathering coconuts

2 notes

🔔 tinkling-bells reblogged morelikedaisygrow

🦋 flutterphotos Follow

A friendly bird joined me for lunch today

(No bread went to birdie, just a little fruit)

21 notes

💚 greensocks reblogged

💚 greensocks Follow

has anybody seen my kite? it's lime green (because you know i've gotta make a green kite) with dark green spots. the wind blew it right out of my hooves and i can't find it anywhere :(

🏞️ riversidelanterns Follow

A green kite landed on my pavilion just a moment ago. It's diamond shaped with a tail.

💚 greensocks

that's it! thanks kimono!

#wow it went far #i was flying it all the way on the other side of ponyville #no wonder i couldn't find it lol

4 notes

☁️ climbingclouds reblogged sillybillylilly

🌠 starswirling Follow

I swear I saw someone's cutie mark move

🌙 azure-dreams Follow

when's the last time you slept? 😟

📖 ponyville-library Follow

Yeah, they do that sometimes (source)

🌙 azure-dreams

oh okay

🌠 starswirling

oh okay

#my butterfly cutie mark flutters when I jump over a rainbow

75 notes

🌅 sunrise-racer reblogged stylingviolet

🧁 cotton-candy-cafe Follow

It's rainbowberry season again! We're making all sorts of treats while the berries are here:

💖 justhavingfun Follow

Hooray!

164 notes

🌺 royal-writes reblogged i-think-in-pink

🎁 razzledazzle Follow

Thank you @berry-fun for the custom pen! You did a great job with the ink. Yes, yes, yes! It hasn't smeared at all. The berry juice makes a lovely color.

Test scribbles under the cut

Keep reading

8 notes

End of dashboard simulator

Usernames/references explained under the cut

Coconut Grove (coconuts-about-summer) and Thistle Whistle (whistle-while-you-thistle) are in the same post because they're both Sunny Scents pegasi.

Coconut Grove's username was chosen for the summer party mentioned in her backcard.

tinkling-bells: Tink-a-Tink-a-Too

morelikedaisygrow: Daisyjo

Fluttershy's (flutterphotos) backcard says she "loves to take pictures of her friends having fun."

The picnic scene was a two person set up. My relative and a door held up the blanket "sky." Everything but the blanket is official MLP merch. The ceiling light was too yellow, so the lighting is entirely flashlights.

I picked Kimono (riversidelanterns) to respond to Minty (greensocks) because her home is comically yet realistically far for a kite to drift.

Minty famously loves green and socks. Her text is green because she wrote with green in A Charming Birthday.

Cloud Climber's (climbingclouds) tag references her 3D cutie mark and backcard. She "likes to soar so high in the sky, she can even jump over a rainbow!"

Silly Lilly (sillybillylilly) is the only Breezie mentioned.

Star Swirl (starswirling) and Dream Blue (azure-dreams) have cute, contrasting backcards. Star Swirl stays up late to watch stars, while Dream Blue likes to journal her dreams. (I headcanon them as friends.)

Storybelle and Gossomer run ponyville-library.

Brights Brightly (sunrise-racer) is named for her cutie mark and backcard. She likes racing around the mountains in her carriage.

Cheerilee the unicorn (stylingviolet) is named for her Styling Pony release.

The photo for cotton-candy-cafe is also official merch. It's the Ponyville Sweet Shoppe with G3 & G4 accessories.

Rarity (justhavingfun) definitely used the Crystal Rainbow Carriage to rush over for rainbowberry desserts. Her name is from her song "I Just Wanna Have Fun" in The Runaway Rainbow.

Royal Bouquet's (royal-writes) name references her backcard. She likes writing in her journal.

Pinkie Pie (i-think-in-pink) is named for her Pinkie Squinks.

Razzaroo (razzledazzle) will use the pen from Summer Berry (berry-fun) to write in her Ponyville Surprise Birthday Book.

Summer Berry's backcard said she grows countless kinds of berries, so I figured she'd have plenty of things to do with them.

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sleepymccoy · 2 months ago

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@muirmarie's tags on this post

You got me writing the start of a fic for you here lol. Features #vague references to broader, undecided upon plot #arguing #arguing like a married couple #cuddling #unacknowledged sexual desire 1.6k

McCoy hit the table in anger and stood up. Vitriolic and far too personal insults rose up in him, but he swallowed them down and left, take the two small steps to the kitchen sink.

Crockery clinked behind him as he glared down at the pool of water in the corner of the uneven basin, saying nothing. The silence broke as Spock took a loud bite of toast, chewing evenly. He was doing that on purpose. McCoy knew it was getting to him too, he’d raised his voice. Not as much as McCoy, but still.

They were barely more than a month in. This was going to be a disaster if they kept arguing over breakfast like this. And then arguing over lunch and dinner, too.

McCoy groaned and pressed his hip against the bench top, crossing his arms. He wasn’t one to apologise over nothing, but he had also spent some time in marriage counseling and, despite how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise, this marriage was starting to feel like one, and a bad one. His counseling sessions hadn’t worked. Obviously. Divorced. Remarried, twice now if you wanted to get specific about it. But he still had a few bit of advice that stuck with him.

To not think about what he wanted out of this disagreement - which, really, he didn’t care about. Most of the time he spent arguing with Spock was fun, not serious. This should be fun too, it just wasn’t - but instead to think about what he wanted tomorrow to look like. And how to get to that together.

He’s apologise for a peaceful lunch.

Spock drank from his cup of tea behind him, pointedly unbothered. It was an unconvincing performance.

“Sorry, Spock,” McCoy muttered.

The room was quiet, then the tea cup clattered onto its saucer loudly. McCoy smirked. That action didn’t have the intentional, bitchy message of untouched calm behind it.

“Doctor?” Spock breathed.

“I’m jumping down your throat, I know it.”

McCoy turned. Dawn was breaking outside, all pink and gold. Beautiful, but less captivating than it had been a month ago. Spock was looking up at him, somber and serious.

“It is forgotten,” Spock said softly.

McCoy scowled at him doubtfully, but retook his seat and got back to spreading butter on his bread.

“There are trying factors to this assignment,” Spock said over the top of his cup of tea. The steam billowed in his breath. “More than I had anticipated. I usually enjoy our disagreements, but I’ll admit I haven’t lately.”

Yeah, both of them. McCoy dunked his finger in his coffee and pulled back quick. Still too hot to drink. “That’s why they send couples,” he muttered.

“I don’t follow.”

McCoy pointed at the marmalade in front of Spock. Spock passed his knife in one hand, and the jar in his other. They were keeping McCoy’s expensive, real milk based butter out of Spock’s food. McCoy didn’t mind Spock drawing the vegetarian line in a more vegan way, Scotty’s fancy butter was one of the best things about his day in this lighthouse. He didn’t want to share anyway.

“Humans are a social species,” McCoy explained as he spread the marmalade on his toast. “Contact and comfort matter to us. I like your company, Spock, even when you’re getting up my nose, but- ” He sighed and glanced at Spock. Keep the peace. “I hope you take it as a compliment that you ain’t human. And I’m feelin’ the lack.”

Spock was watching him closely. He was still in uniform. Unbelievably. McCoy had taken his blues off a full fortnight ago. McCoy stuck his pinky into his coffee again.

“And you fulfill this craving on the Enterprise?” Spock asked.

McCoy had a sip of coffee. Perfect. “Yeah,” he said. And who knew what Spock thought of that, his raised eyebrow certainly indicated a certain amount of assumption. But McCoy spent an evening or two a week sharing a couch with Scotty or getting pushed around by Jim during a workout, and that was generally enough skin for him. He hadn’t really known it, but five weeks without a hug was catching up. He was antsy and irritable, and it was more than just Spock’s hit and miss personality.

Spock stood. “I need to attend to- ” He hesitated, and didn’t finish the bullshit explanation he had been about to give. He picked up his tea and toast and said a hurried, “excuse me,” then left.

Well, McCoy hadn’t been trying to be rude. Figured Spock would appreciate that McCoy was calling him emotionally distant, for once. But no. At least it hadn’t been an argument proper.

McCoy had a bite of marmalade toast and relaxed back into the seat. “Right,” he mumbled to himself, unconvinced.

The words on the page began to blur. He was barely a few pages from the end of the chapter, but really. It didn’t matter. They were here another four and a half months or so, and tomorrow was just another day. He could finish in the morning.

He forced himself to read to the end of the paragraph anyway, barely taking it in, then folded the corner, whacked the old analogue light switch, and curled up facing the wall. The experiment was going as they’d hoped. No results yet, but they weren’t expecting anything until the two month mark. And then they had to run it twice more for posterity.

At least he and Spock had been getting along today.

The ocean waves battered the rocks outside, which they did every night. McCoy had begun to find it soothing.

Far too soon light broke past his eyelids, pulling him from a dream. He opened his eyes groggily, and looked at the crack in the curtain. Still dark out, but the light was on. He turned.

“Spock?” McCoy asked the familiar, blurry figure that was partway through closing the bedroom door behind him. Why the fuck would Spock be in here? McCoy sat up awkwardly on one elbow, blinking at the room. “Shit, man, what’s wrong?”

“A minor issue, I have fixed it,” Spock said. He came up to McCoy’s bed and peered down at him.

McCoy rubbed his eyes. “Without waking me?”

“I assure you it was minor.”

“So you’re waking me now.” Was Spock here trying to piss him off? McCoy was perfectly fucking willing to take the bait, but his brain wasn’t working much just yet. He’d been well asleep.

Spock sat on the edge of McCoy’s bed. McCoy scrabbled away from him, pressing back against the cold wall.

“I have been thinking,” Spock said before McCoy had a chance to yell at him.

“Oh, okay?” McCoy said loudly. A vague insult filtered through his mind, that if it were worth discussing that he was thinking, did that mean he often didn’t? But it didn’t feel like the moment to needle Spock over semantics. McCoy was far more interested in why the fuck Spock was sitting on his bed in the middle of the night.

Spock ran his finger along a crease in the bed sheet, smoothing it. “There are duties a husband performs. Marital norms.” He glanced over his shoulder and met McCoy’s eyes with unnerving confidence. “They are contractually expected on this mission.”

Was Spock here to fuck him? McCoy shook his head. “Jesus, Spock, what’re you- ?”

“I will stay the night,” Spock interrupted. He swallowed. “Unless you ask me to leave.”

“Spock…”

“Rank has its privileges, and its obligations. You are human and require physical contact, I am quite able to appreciate the inconvenience of biological imperative. And I am your husband.”

McCoy pulled himself up to sitting, leaning against the bedhead. Absurd and dreadful though it was, a curl of disarming excitement building in his gut. “You offering to consummate, or…?”

“Doctor,” Spock breathed, turning away. His ears went dark green. He pulled his hand from the sheet, laying them in his lap. “I am offering to hold you through the night. Nothing more.”

“Ah,” McCoy said widely. He was feeling warm, and more than a little glad that it was cold enough for him to wear full flannel pajamas here. “Yeah, that makes more sense.”

Spock shifted up the bed, then swung his legs up and lay down in a way that was more reminiscent of Dracula than it was inviting a cuddle. But Spock was being kind, so McCoy swallowed the unflattering comparison.

And McCoy wanted the touch on offer.

McCoy sighed and tugged the sheet out from under Spock’s feet, then laid down next to him and smacked the light switch again. The room plunged into darkness as McCoy flung the sheet and blanket over himself and Spock.

“You know it’s not a contractual obligation, Spock,” McCoy told the darkness. “There are married couples who don’t sleep together.”

“We need not be one,” Spock said softly.

McCoy smiled and reached out, fingers bumping into Spock’s hand quickly on the small bed. Spock shifted to press his fingers to McCoy’s, then rolled to the side and wrapped his arm around McCoy’s waist. McCoy let himself get moved and shoved an arm under their shared pillow as he came face to face with Spock.

It wasn’t pitch black, but dark. He could tell Spock’s eyes were open, though. Glittering in the bare light. His breath was warm on McCoy’s face.

Spock pulled McCoy close and they slotted together. Legs tangled, chests pressed tight as they breathed in tandem. McCoy buried his face into the pillow and let Spock press their cheeks together. Spock leant into him and McCoy let himself relish the weight on him.

#spock #mccoy #spones #but this ones almost just friendly #i wrote it with enough simmering desire that if i continued it theyd fuck #but its not textual at the start here #this was fun! totally took my brain over today lol

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astonmartinii · 2 years ago

Text

big reputation | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem reader

they may have a big reputation and they may be end game, but sometimes you need a push from your girlfriend to enter your reputation era

(also no hate to vasseur and sainz, it's just the way the fic had to go)

MASTERLIST | TIPS

f1newsandgossip

liked by user1, user2 and 13,209 others

f1newsandgossip: after ferrari's continued chaos and inability to get anything right it seems, do you think charles leclerc will stick around and renew his contract?

view all comments

user3: i love him and i love ferrari but if he wants any shot of winning a championship he has to leave

user4: i would die to see him at red bull or even mercedes

user5: would he want to be a second driver though?

user4: babes they treat him like he's the second driver at ferrari at least there he'd have a competent car and team

user6: yes ! he has to leave, no one at that team respects him anymore

user7: he should've left a long time ago but this season has to be the final nail in the coffin

user8: all he does it protect ferrari and ferrari don't even give a shit about him it's actually sad

user9: they don't even protect him from his teammate and his teammate's parents being rude about him in the media

user10: for real the man needs to stop being a team player and tell him how it is

user11: i feel so so bad for him because his childhood dream is turning into a nightmare and through no fault of his own

user12: i know y/n is absolutely seething and the only reason she hasn't said anything yet is because charles is so in love with the team that he won't say anything bad about them

user13: i need her to give him a lil slap around to get his head in gear

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, charles_leclerc and 1,309,556 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: you and me got a big reputation

view all comments

user14: me being delusional: OMG THIS MEANS CHARLES IS FINALLY ENTERING HIS REPUTATION ERA

user15: and then we remember rep is an album about love first and revenge second :(

charles_leclerc: is this a taylor swift reference?

yourusername: yes it is !! i knew you were actually listening when i gave you the full eras breakdown

charles_leclerc: i'd listen to you talk about anything

yourusername: even the things you don't want to hear?

charles_leclerc: i think it has gotten to that point, yes.

user16: WHAT DOES THIS MEAN ^^ ???

alexalbon: when will i be freed from the shackles of having to take cute photos of you two

yourusername: NEVER

charles_leclerc: is a seat on my jet not enough?

alexalbon: YOUR JET? i have clearly missed something here

maxverstappen1: alex is always free to fly air max (MY jet, factually)

yourusername: when did this become a dick measuring contest? (charles would win, you can all go home)

maxverstappen1: i don't want you to see my dick

charles_leclerc: i should think not verstappen

alexalbon: i don't know how i hang out with you morons

user17: gosh y/n is so sexy

user18: i am allowing myself to live in delusion and after the shitshow that was austin, y/n is initiating the reputation era and charles will either give ferrari hell or actually leave

user19: idk that man might be completely in love with y/n but he's even more in love with ferrari

charles_leclerc: nothing compares to her

user20: WHAT DOES THIS ALL MEAN?

charles_leclerc

liked by georgerussell63, yourusername and 1,204,509 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: hola mexico! can't wait for the weekend to start

view all comments

user22: post your team or car? no. post a random picture of your girlfriend? yes.

user23: he should post an explanation as to why his gf was being wined and dined by christian horner

yourusername: ZOOWEE MAMA

charles_leclerc: excuse me?

yourusername: instagram would ban me if i really said what i think

charles_leclerc: oh i'm blushing

yourusername: but always above all you are a cutie patootie

user24: i see posts like this and i wonder why do they always have break up rumours if they are this in love?

user19: bestie we simply cannot be believing everything we read, especially when it comes from a certain spanish paper

liked by yourusername

user24: wait what is this supposed to mean?

user19: any "insider source" at ferrari that has anti-leclerc info is usually the sainz family lol that's why other than ferrari being clowns in general charles needs to get the fuck out

pierregasly: rivalling me with just how much you post y/n

charles_leclerc: ummmm you've met her, and you wouldn't?

charles_leclerc: WAIT don't answer that

user25: so are we just ignoring that y/n was at dinner with CHRISTIAN HORNER?

user26: the red bull!charles dream a bit more feasible now and i am appropriately feral

user27: obsessed with how he's just ignoring the horner thing

user28: i am similarly obsessed with how the media are spinning this to an affair between y/n and horner LMAO

yourusername: he made us split the bill after ordering a really spenny wine :/

user29: I'M CRYING

user30: horner's like if i don't get a driver out of this dinner i will be having a nice glass of wine he's so real for that

scuderiaferrari: let's get it 💪

user31: GET A JOB. LEAVE HER ALONE

liked by yourusername

user32: lol she's so tired of being subtle

user33: TELL THEM SIS

liked by yourusername, redbullracing and 1,450,667 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

f1: BREAKING: charles leclerc signs for red bull racing for 2024 on a four year contract

view all comments

user36: they're MUGGY for the first picture omg

user37: SOMEONE CALL THE EMERGENCY SERVICES FOR ME I CAN'T BREATHE

user38: wait so like who do i have to thank for finally making this happen?

user39: this has y/n y/ln written all over it - the dinner with horner finally makes sense

pierregasly: WHAT ?????????

user40: HE'S FINDING OUT AT THE SAME TIME AS US? DID ANYONE KNOW?

user41: THERE WILL BE NO EXPLANATION JUST REPUTATION

liked by yourusername

user42: okay since y/n and charles have referenced the reputation album so much during this whole fiasco .... taylor swift x charles leclerc piano ballad collab when?

user43: so this is il predestinato who has betrayed his team and completely blindsided him? this is why carlos has always been the superior driver

liked by carlossainz55

user44: not carlos liking this comment

yourusername: i wish he would say something with his chest, always hiding behind his parents and the spanish media ... yeah we know about that and we're no longer under that stupid contract so i can and will say this all to your face

user45: HOLY SHITTTTTTTTTT

carlossainz55: you got the move and attention you wanted stop trying to drag me into it

yourusername: babe there's a difference between you and i, you create fake cheating rumours to try and shake your teammate while your PR team is fulltime constantly having to threaten legal action over you not being able to keep it in your pants

user46: ERM QUEEN THEY STILL HAVE RACES TOGETHER

redbullracing: anyways.... WELCOME TO THE TEAM CHARLES

user47: admin what is going on?

redbullracing: i have no clue but as soon as that man is in a navy race suit i will get the tea trust

user48: so real of you

maxverstappen1: ☕️

user49: LMAO KING

yourusername: i have a feeling we might get on (no more inchidents though)

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, charles_leclerc and 1,344,099 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: they said i did something bad, why does it feel so good?

view all comments

user51: momma does not play oh my

taylorswift: proud 🖤 🐍

yourusername: approved by our lord and saviour, thanks mother

charles_leclerc: do you need a pianist?

taylorswift: i'm sure we can work something out

landonorris: ^^ this is so unfair i thought i was the swiftie on the grid :(

danielricciardo: my rendition of our song says otherwise

user52: she really said FUCK FERRARI AND FUCK YOU TOO

user53: as she should

charles_leclerc: i'm not a playboy but i do LOVE YOU

yourusername: i love you even more

charles_leclerc: NUH UH I LOVE YOU MORE

yourusername: i would literally fight every person on earth for your hand

charles_leclerc: oh wow ... mark me scared AND horny

alexalbon: okay that's ENOUGH

user54: i'm so glad she shook him out of the ferrari daze he. might finally have a chance at the championship now

user55: i'd be afraid that ferrari may build a good car next year but then i remember it's ferrari LOL

user56: so y/n mentioned under the f1 post about a contract? was she not able to say anything about ferrari while with charles?

yourusername: yes. i was not able to say anything they considered negative. many times when i expressed disappointment in how charlie has been treated i was reprimanded by ferrari and was banned from the paddock for weekends following any statements

user57: wtf that is crazy ??? makes sense as to why charles always blames himself when it was clearly a pit/strategy issue

yourusername: ferrari have attempted to keep charlie under wraps since his second season at the team. they were worried about him becoming outspoken like seb. this goes all the way down to his music which they tried to prevent him from releasing. i'm glad he'll be given the chance to show his talents next season

user58: thank the lord charles finally left. this is insane. the reputation era was well and truly needed.

maxverstappen1: kelly wants to know whether now you'll be wag teammates that you can raid each other's wardrobes?

yourusername: of course !!! i can't wait to see her more often coffee dates are a must ( + p of course)

charles_leclerc: i'm gonna beat your ass at padel i WILL be the padel king at red bull

maxverstappen1: i will show NO MERCY

yourusername: maybe this was a bad idea ...

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 1,332,909 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: it saddens me to my core to be leaving the team i always dreamed of racing for and winning with, but there comes a point in your career when it's time to put your ambitions above tradition. ferrari has always been the dream for me, but the last couple of years have been a nightmare. i never thought i'd be put in a position where i'd have feelings like these about the team i love, but the constant disrespect, betrayal and the treatment of my loved ones leaves me no other choice. despite this sad ending, i am looking forward to new opportunities at red bull, racing alongside an old friend and under a competent leadership. finally, thank you to y/n and my family for being there for me during this time despite the way we were all treated. i know i will get questions, but there will be no explanation, just reputation.

view all comments

user59: he really left comments open so we could drag ferrari

user60: and drag i shall do... that man despite the absolute tomfoolery got that shitbox on the podium and NONE OF YOU SHOWED UP

user61: for real, they're out here trying to show charles as petty but then KEEP PROVING HIS POINT LOL

yourusername: i am so unbelievably proud of you. i know this was a hard choice but it's the one you had to make. today and every other day i will always be there to support you even if no one else is

user62: subtle DRAG

charles_leclerc: i love you to the moon and to saturn

yourusername: you're my invisible string

yourusername: also this is what i mean when i say reputation is a love story with a side of shade

user63: i know binotto let out a sigh of relief that he dodged this shit storm

yourusername: that fraud is SO lucky i was under contract while he was there otherwise i'd drag his ass so bad he'd be bald

charles_leclerc: i don't know how he made it out of silverstone alive after the whole finger wagging saga, i had to hold her back

sebastianvettel: i hate to say i told you so .....

charles_leclerc: SEB ????? BUT I'M DOING IT NOW, I'M NOT WASTING IT (tell christian to give me the better strategies i know you're still the o.g golden boy)

maxverstappen1: you know i can see this right?

christianhorner: and me?

charles_leclerc: @yourusername baby please take the fall for me

yourusername: I COMMENTED THAT

maxverstappen1: you guys really aren't slick... you're lucky i already love you two

christianhorner: i feel like i need to brief PR already

yourusername: if it makes it any better i'm a great baker and very generous

redbullracing: WE'LL TAKE IT

user64: @netflix make sure there's a camera in that garage at ALL TIMES

pierregasly: proud of you calmar, i hope this works out better for you than it did for me

yourusername: NO ROOM FOR PITY PARTY HERE SIR

yourusername: wait that was rude, we love you pierre

charles_leclerc: thank you pierre

pierregasly: ummmmmm tell y/n she can't say that ???

charles_leclerc: she made me see the light kinda owe her everything rn, so sorry?

christianhorner: definitely brief PR

note: teehee here it is. MY GOD my writing block has been insane - i also went on a trip to london and got horrendously drunk and made AWFUL decisions. alas, i hope you guys enjoy this and the race later !!

EDIT: I AM SO FUCKING ANNOYED AT THIS RACE ONE DAY WHERE CHARLES IS NOT FUVKED OVER IS ALL I ASK WHAT DID HE DO TO DESERVE THIS

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc instagram edit #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc

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whizzing-fizzbee · 4 months ago

Text

Darling, Dear

Sebastian Sallow x Ominis Gaunt x F!OC

Rating: Explicit 18+, MDNI (smut, profanity), all characters are adults Words: 5,333 Tags: throuple, threesome, roommates, friends to lovers, third person POV

Summary: Years ago, Sebastian Sallow and Ominis Gaunt mutually agreed that the new fifth year girl was off limits, despite crushes that grew into love. Five years later, the trio of best friends has moved into a townhome together. She loves both men equally, so why not allow them both to love her back?

Notes: Thank you to the anon who requested this! My first threesome. 🥲 Anon asked for a good ol' throuple/threesome in which Sebastian and Ominis are both in love with MC and convince her to be with them both. Characters are post-Hogwarts adults.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

Ominis Gaunt scowled across the room. The only thing more crimson than the tip of his glowing wand was his fury as he sensed Sebastian Sallow murmuring quietly in their mutual friend’s ear.

Nevermind the music that carried from a charmed phonograph or the clusters of bodies that chatted animatedly throughout the room; Ominis didn’t need to hear. He could feel Sebastian’s words. They were laden with flirtation and desire.

Ominis waited until Sebastian was alone to call him out. He cornered his freckled friend near the doorway and hissed in his ear.

“We agreed she’s off limits,” Ominis growled quietly. Sebastian sighed through his nose.

“There’s nothing wrong with some harmless banter,” he murmured quietly in response.

“Harmless banter? Seemed awfully sexually charged to me.”

Sebastian snorted. “Sexually charged? Ominis, you can’t even see. How could you possibly tell that?”

“From the way her breath hitched. From the way her back and posture straightened. From the way the heat began radiating from her.”

“You can tell all that from your wand?” Sebastian muttered.

“Don’t test me, Sebastian,” Ominis warned. “She’s off limits. We may be in a new living situation, but our agreement from fifth year still holds.”

Ominis was referring to a mutual gentlemen’s agreement he and Sebastian had made when they were fifteen. Back then, it was all harmless, good-natured fun. They both had crushes on the new fifth-year girl, a striking beauty named Arabella Andrews. Little did they know their lives would become permanently intertwined with hers by the time their fifth year ended.

Arabella and her ancient magic entranced damn everyone to cross her path. But Sebastian and Ominis were the ones lucky enough to earn the title of her closest friends. But it was much deeper than friendship. The trio became bound by an unspeakable bond rooted in mutual love, trust and trauma.

Now, five years later, the trio remained omnipresent in one another’s lives; so much so, that they were moving under one roof. It was unorthodox and even a bit unbecoming to the outside world; two single, young men moving in with a single, young lady. But to them, it made all the sense in the world. The three could retreat to the quiet, private confines of their new home free from judgment or prying eyes.

Now an adult, Ominis had escaped his family’s cruel and overbearing clutches to become the youngest member of the Ministry of Magic Wizengamot. Sebastian, now a cursebreaker, sold his Uncle Solomon’s old cottage in Feldcroft with no intention of ever returning to such a sordid place. And Arabella had become an auror, intent on using her ancient magic for good while she acclimated to adulthood.

Finally, they were free. No more goblin rebellions or ancient relics. No more cursed relatives – Anne Sallow’s curse was lifted when Arabella killed Victor Rookwood. No more darkness to consume the light the trio so desperately wanted and deserved.

But the little unspoken agreement among two-thirds of the trio remained. Sebastian and Ominis still spent their days eyeing their female friend with far more than adolescent curiosity. Schoolboy crushes had morphed into love. Stolen glances became bedroom eyes. The gentle brush of fingers became laced with longing and lust.

It was becoming impossible for either man to ignore their irrepressible obsessions with their closest friend.

They certainly tried. Sebastian had bedded half of Hogwarts, it seemed, before he began dating Violet McDowell for two years. But she grew tired of his unconventional friendship with Arabella, impatient for a diamond ring she’d never wear, and gave him an ultimatum. Sebastian chose Arabella without a second thought.

Meanwhile, Ominis had indulged his family’s attempts at continuing their bloodline. They arranged a handful of relationships for him, but none came to any fruition. Ominis had no desire to wed any of the women they picked; all as equally cruel and ignorant, obsessed with blood status as his parents. Once he finally split from the Gaunt family for good, he decided he had no desire to create any kin with such sinister blood.

But as Arabella’s choice of suitors seemed to become insurmountable, Sebastian and Ominis watched in agony. Men of all backgrounds and intentions tripped over their own feet for a shot at Arabella. She was objectively beautiful, but her character – so full of energy and charisma – was the magnet that made men latch onto her in any way they could. She was the Ministry’s rising star, her arrest numbers far surpassing her peers.

She was strong, clever and sharp, interesting enough to keep people watching for more. Everyone wanted a piece of Arabella Andrews, but she was reluctant to dish herself out so sufficiently.

Her latest flame had been a professional quidditch player by the name of Alastair Wood. Wood was the Montrose Magpies’ latest hotshot, a Seeker destined to be named the league’s Rookie of the Year.

But after three months of courtship, Arabella had deemed Alastair too arrogant and selfish. She broke things off with him and merely shrugged when she delivered the news to her friends, insisting that she didn’t need a husband to complete her place in life. Instead, Arabella sought comfort from Sebastian and Ominis, which was how the trio ended up purchasing a stately three-bedroom townhome on the outskirts of Muggle London together.

“It makes perfect sense!” Arabella had declared when she first presented the idea. “I only wish we’d done it sooner. I guess the notion never came to me since we all thought Sebastian was going to marry Violet.”

Now, the boxes were all unpacked and the decorations were in place – all Arabella’s doing, of course. They were spending the evening with friends, showing off their new home while also celebrating Arabella’s 20th birthday.

She was radiant tonight, clad in a slinky dress that seemed to cling to every curve for dear life. Her hair was pinned in a half-up and she wore a simple silver necklace that once belonged to Miriam Fig.

Sebastian and Ominis watched as she danced with Leander Prewett. Ominis’ knuckles tightened and whitened around the handle of his wand. Sebastian shifted from one foot to the other, unable to remain still as his jealousy threatened to lash out.

“Is she drunk?” Ominis asked as they listened to Arabella cackle loudly at something Leander had said.

“No, she’s barely had any champagne, actually,” Sebastian muttered. “She’s just… happy.”

“She cannot possibly be that happy over Leander Prewett’s presence,” Ominis said bitterly. “Anyone but him.”

“At least it’s not Puffskein Duncan. Didn’t he get mauled by a Venomous Tentacula recently?” Sebastian asked.

“Something like that. Perhaps we can poison Prewett.”

“I thought we said we wouldn’t meddle in her romantic affairs.”

“We did – but I refuse to allow those affairs to include the likes of Prewett.”

“You might actually hate him more than me,” Sebastian mused.

“Only because he thinks he has a shot with her. What were the two of you flirting about anyway?” Ominis asked curiously.

“Nothing of substance,” Sebastian answered. “Honestly, she was asking me when it would be a suitable time to kick all the guests out and I made some crass joke about her rushing people out so we could get into bed.”

Ominis chuckled. “Funny,” he said quietly as Arabella twirled from Leander to Amit Thakkar. “She’s got a room full of eager, adoring men waiting to fall at her feet, yet she just wants to sit by the fire with us every night.”

Sebastian mulled over Ominis’ words quietly, his eyes still following Arabella around the room. Ominis could sense the thoughts sloshing around in Sebastian’s brain, and he waited patiently to hear of his friend’s next grand endeavor. Nothing was ever static when it came to Sebastian Sallow.

“What if that really is all she wants?” Sebastian finally asked quietly. Ominis opened his mouth to ask for clarification, but Sebastian was already steering him away from the party. The men retreated to the bottom of the staircase, away from the music and keen partygoers.

“Sebastian, what’s this about?” Ominis sighed.

Sebastian turned to face his friend, his features narrowed into a serious expression. “You said it yourself,” Sebastian started. “She only ever wants to be around us. And you and I have only ever really wanted her. What if we could arrange all that?”

“Sebastian…” Ominis warned. He didn’t want to like where this was headed, but he was also curious… or desperate.

“Think about it,” Sebastian said, his eyes glinting with all the possibilities. “We both love her and have spent years in misery pining after her from a distance to preserve our own friendship. But what if… what if we could both have her.”

Ominis stilled. It was a preposterous proposal… right? Surely it would ruin the friendship for all three; not to mention the impropriety of such an arrangement. They’d be outcasts, judged for such barbaric behavior if people found out.

But did Ominis really care? Sebastian clearly didn’t. Sebastian didn’t have anything to lose, except Arabella. And Ominis… well, neither did he, now that he severed all ties with his family.

Surely Arabella would care, though, right? She was popular and adored. She’d never taint her name with such lewd nonsense. But both men also knew her well enough to be sure that if there was one trait that Arabella possessed, it was the refusal to care what others think.

Maybe it wasn’t such an outlandish idea after all.

“So you’re saying we could… share her?” Ominis finally asked. “Sebastian, she’s not a toy.”

“I know that,” Sebastian said. “And we would never treat her as such. We’d both give her the love and care she deserves. And in return, we both get to have her.”

A flush crept up the back of Ominis’ neck, a rare display of nerves from the usually composed blond. “And you’d be willing to- to share her like that with me?” he asked.

“With you? Yes. With anyone else? No,” Sebastian replied simply.

Ominis considered his response. He didn’t want to admit it, but he felt the same. Sebastian adored Arabella just as much as he did. And though Sebastian had a history of royally fucking up in life, Ominis had witnessed his best friend morph from a misguided teen into a man who understood that he’d received a rare second chance at life.

Ominis didn’t trust anyone else with someone as precious to him as Arabella. But Sebastian understood that, because he loved her too.

“Even if I did agree to this, there’s no way in hell she will,” Ominis said. “She’s too…”

“Just say it, Ominis. She’s too good for the both of us and that’s the real reason neither of us has ever pursued her,” Sebastian said bluntly.

It was true. Ominis’ blood was tainted by poison – a bloodline that carried a history of hatred and harm. Sebastian’s past was contaminated by dark magic and the ultimate sin. But they were only human. Who could blame them for falling in love with someone as lively as Arabella?

But she wasn’t pure either. She’d killed too, though her sins were for the greater good of wizardkind. She’d failed to stop Sebastian amid his descent into dark magic, and it nearly ruined both of their lives. And then she chose to keep his secret rather than turn him in. She was complicit, too. She simply sinned differently from them.

All three were tarnished goods, dealt cruel cards from life’s unfair deck.

“What if she’s horrified by such a proposal?” Ominis asked. “What if she hates us for it?”

“She could never hate us, Ominis,” Sebastian reasoned. “She loves us.”

“Still, is it worth risking our friendship?”

“We could lose her anyway,” Sebastian said. “Either we lose her for trying to love her, or we lose her to someone else. I’d rather lose her knowing I tried.”

That was the only convincing point he needed to make. Still, Ominis’ nerves made him hot and anxious. “So how do we approach the subject? And how do we… what do we… how do we do this?”

“I think we just need to outright tell her,” Sebastian said. “We don’t force her, and there’s no hard feelings if she says no. We promise to drop it and never speak of it again. And then if she agrees to it, we should establish some ground rules.”

“Rules, yes,” Ominis agreed. “Alright.”

Waiting for the party to end was excruciating. Sebastian paced next to the party table of food while Ominis sat and fidgeted on a sofa. Finally, when the last guest said farewell, both men exhaled a breath they’d been holding for hours.

“Okay,” Arabella said tactfully as she sauntered into the living room with her hands on her hips. “What’s wrong with the two of you? Something happened, didn’t it? You’ve been shying away from people all night.”

Sebastian snuck a glance at Ominis, who stared at nothing. They hadn’t discussed the finer details of their proposal, like where to start, or even when to start. Ominis decided to let Sebastian take the lead, given this was his grand idea in the first place.

“No time like the present, I guess,” Sebastian muttered. He crossed the room to hook an arm around Arabella’s waist. “Did you have a good birthday, darling?”

“I did,” Arabella answered, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “But now I want to know what the two of you are on about.”

“We both have something to discuss with you,” Sebastian said. “It’s a… birthday surprise, if you will. It’s in your bedroom.”

Sebastian wasn’t sure where this sudden surge in nerves came from. Perhaps it was the enticing dress Arabella was wearing, or maybe it was because he’d had an extra glass of champagne.

“My bedroom?” Arabella mused. “Sebastian, if you wanted to get me in bed, all you had to do was ask.”

“Precisely, my darling.”

Ominis nearly laughed at the irony of it all. Instead, he swayed nervously in his seat as Arabella’s cheeks flushed.

“Sebastian, what’s this about?”

“Perhaps we should sit,” Sebastian suggested, guiding Arabella to the sofa next to Ominis. She became wedged between the two men once Sebastian sat on her other side, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. Arabella continued to appear baffled by their behavior.

“You know we love you, right?” Sebastian asked softly, one hand resting on top of Arabella’s.

“Of course,” she replied. “And I love the two of you as well.”

“But you know we really love you, right? More than just as kindred spirits or fellow Slytherins?” Sebastian continued.

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“We’re in love with you,” Sebastian answered. “Both of us. Equally.”

“Wh-what? Are you drunk?” Arabella asked incredulously.

“No, my dear,” Ominis finally interjected. “We’re both very sober and probably very big fools for this.”

“You’re in on this too?” Arabella asked. Ominis nodded.

“We were thinking,” Sebastian pressed. “We’re both in love with you and you don’t seem to be too enthralled by any of your suitors. And now that we’re all three under one roof, we just thought maybe this would be a good chance to explore more depths to our relationship.”

“Our relationship?” Arabella deadpanned. “As in, the three of us?”

“Yes, darling.”

Arabella blinked as the weight of the suggestion settled within her. “And you’re being serious?”

“Absolutely. We talked, and we’re tired of watching these other blokes waste their time and yours. We both love you and are willing to share that love with you – equally,” Sebastian explained.

“You want to share me,” Arabella said, her bashful cheeks now crimson. “As my lovers… You both want to share me in a relationship.”

“Only as much as you want to be shared, dear,” Ominis assured. “And only as much as you want to give. You call the shots here.”

“I call the shots,” Arabella repeated slowly, each of her emotions clashing for control.

She didn’t know what to make of such an unusual, unforeseen proposal. Never in her wildest fantasies had she envisioned the notion of having both men she loved. In her daydreams, they took turns as her lover. Having them both had seemed so forbidden – until now.

The heat emanating from the fireplace could only be rivaled by the heat spreading between Arabella’s legs.

“So the two of you… you’d share me as lovers,” Arabella said carefully. “Like in the bedroom and in life?” Both men nodded their confirmations. “And you’re okay with that – with sharing? I mean, Sebastian, I know you can get jealous-”

“If it was anyone else, the answer would be no,” Sebastian cut in. “But I trust Ominis. The two of you are the only people I trust.”

“And vice-versa,” Ominis added.

“And me too,” Arabella admitted. “I only trust the two of you… and I only love the two of you. I just never thought I could have you both, so it seemed easier to refrain.”

“We understand what you mean,” Ominis said. “We made a deal our fifth year that you were off limits. But now… now it’s becoming impossible.”

“And we promise we’ll stop the moment you say so,” Sebastian said. “In bed and in this arrangement as a whole. We won’t do anything you don’t want. But if you want us both, we’re both willing to be yours.”

Arabella’s breath hitched. The two men she loved and desired were both offering themselves to her in any way she wanted. The power was more alluring than any ancient magic.

“Okay,” she breathed. The fireplace crackled with renewed life. “When do we start?”

“That’s up to you,” Sebastian said gently, though his hands were shaking and his chest heaved with bewildered excitement. She was actually saying yes, he realized.

Arabella shifted in her seat, her thighs pressed together to address the ache between them. Sebastian and Ominis waited with bated breath.

“Can we start now? I mean, it is my birthday, after all.”

Sebastian was on his feet without hesitation. Ominis, still stunned by her willingness to be split between two men, rose slowly as Arabella giggled.

“My room, then?” she asked.

“Whatever you want, dear,” Ominis replied.

When the trio reached the bottom of the staircase, they stopped and shared a glance.

“Sebastian, you’ll go first,” Arabella ordered. “Up the stairs, and with me.”

Sebastian nearly tripped on the first step. “R-Really?”

“Yes,” Arabella said as she followed him, taking Ominis’ hand to guide him behind herself. “You’re the impatient one. I fear if you go second, you won’t make it.”

Sebastian huffed with indignation but the glint in his eye revealed his excitement. Ominis remained quiet as his brain continued to process the absurd scene unfolding among them. He smiled quietly as he trailed behind Arabella.

Once they reached her bedroom, Arabella motioned the men to the bed. She sat between them on the edge, her heart pumping into overdrive as they both stared at her with lust.

“Undress me,” she whispered.

Both men reached for a dress strap, slipping one strap off her shoulders in unison. The neckline of her dress dipped, revealing her plush, full breasts. Sebastian exhaled audibly at the sight while Ominis patiently waited.

“Ominis,” Arabella said softly as she reached for his hand with understanding. He couldn’t see her beauty but he could feel it. She placed the palm of his hand against her breast as he held his breath. She was so soft and warm, like fresh linens drying in the sunlight on laundry day.

Sebastian, ever the impatient one, cupped her other breast and leaned in to kiss her neck. A tiny moan escaped Arabella’s lips as her eyes fell shut and she allowed the two men to grow familiar with her skin.

None of them had ever done anything like this, but it was clear they trusted each other enough to join hands and dive headfirst together.

“I want the two of you to prove how devoted you are to this,” she ordered as she shifted backward onto the bed until she was resting among the pile of pillows. “Show me how much you care.”

She looked regal, like a queen awaiting attention. Sebastian and Ominis shared a glance, though Ominis, whose wand remained in his hand, could already sense what Sebastian was feeling. He nodded at Sebastian, who sprang into action.

Sebastian went straight for Arabella’s lips, laying next to her as he kissed her. His tongue pried its way into her mouth as Ominis decided to take charge in his own way. He wanted to be the first to taste her.

Ominis peeled Arabella’s dress down past her hips and over her knees until it went forgotten at the foot of the bed, soon followed by her panties. While Sebastian showered her breasts with kisses, Ominis pressed his lips in a line from her hips to her inner thigh as he positioned himself between them.

His thumbs ran gentle circles over her thighs as he savored the velvet feel of her skin. She cried out the moment his tongue made contact with her entrance.

Ominis had merely meant to taste her first, but he couldn’t help himself. His tongue sank within her folds and he hummed his approval. He hooked his hands around her thighs as he dipped his tongue in and out of her cunt, drawing patterns across her clit until Arabella’s moans occupied her lips.

As a result, Sebastian used his own mouth to target her breasts. He palmed the erection that strained inside his trousers as he sucked gently on her nipple. He gazed lovingly down at her as she bucked her hips against Ominis with a sharp whimper.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he praised. “We’re going to show you how much we love you.”

As her moans chorused higher, Sebastian placed a hand to her neck, his fingers pressing gently. The pressure from his hand mirrored the mounting pressure within Arabella’s cunt. She moaned, the vibrations from her throat coursing across the palm of Sebastian’s hand. He squeezed tighter.

“Let me know if it’s too much, darling,” he ordered. He watched as Ominis continued to work between her legs. “I want to watch you fall apart before I fuck you.”

Sebastian’s hand vacated Arabella’s neck just long enough for him to unzip his trousers. He kicked them off with his boxers and left them in a haphazard heap on the floor as he gripped his erection.

“I reckon you’re just about ready to come, darling,” Sebastian said. “Tell me, do you want me to choke you with my fingers or my cock as you come?”

Arabella reached for his cock. Sebastian grinned as he knelt above her and nudged his cock into her mouth. Her lips sucked hard around his tip while she used a hand to stroke his shaft.

“Just like that,” Sebastian mewed as he watched her lips glide around him.

Ominis listened to the sinful sounds of sucking above him, his own erection digging into the bed covers. His fingers pressed harder into the backs of Arabella’s thighs, his tongue flattening and prodding against her clit in steady swipes.

Arabella hummed around Sebastian’s cock, a pitchy whine escaping her throat to signal her approaching climax. Sebastian didn’t know where to look; her brown doe eyes staring up at him; her pink lips wrapped and working around his hard cock; her slick folds grinding against Ominis’ tongue; it was all such a vision – a masterpiece painted just for him to see.

The coil inside Arabella’s core had tightened fully, a ticking time clock waiting to spring apart. When it finally did, Arabella gasped around Sebastian’s cock, her back arching off the bed as Ominis’ tongue triggered the release. Her arousal seeped from her entrance and Ominis groaned as he tasted the fruits of his labor.

The view of her orgasm sent pulsing waves through Sebastian’s cock. He pulled it from her mouth and stood, desperate for his turn. Ominis pulled himself away from her thighs and the men switched places.

“My god,” Sebastian breathed as he stroked himself above Arabella, taking in the scene beneath him. Her flushed cheeks, hard nipples and soaked entrance was sin incarnate. “You are so fucking beautiful. Are you ready, darling?”

Arabella nodded as she gently pumped a hand over Ominis’ cock. He grunted at the sensation as Sebastian lined himself against Arabella’s entrance. He hissed as his tip dipped slowly into her folds.

“How are you so fucking wet?” he growled.

“My bad,” Ominis quipped. Sebastian barked a laugh but his eyes became dark and serious as his attention returned to the tight heat swallowing his cock.

Sebastian held his breath as he continued to sink into her. Arabella’s walls stretched around him, compressing his cock with wet, searing flesh. It was better than Sebastian could ever have imagined from the quiet solitude of his own bedroom.

Arabella moaned at the intrusion within her cunt. “Sebastian, you feel so good,” she breathed. Those words alone could have made Sebastian come.

Instead, he grit his teeth and thrust forward until he was fully sheathed, the tip of his cock meeting Arabella’s innermost core. Meanwhile, Ominis squeezed his eyes shut at the sensation of Arabella’s mouth gripping his cock.

“You’re so good at this, dear,” he praised.

Sebastian groaned, torn between the absolute thrill of claiming Arabella and the desire to prolong it. It was too good – she was too good.

But he had vowed to prove to her how much he loved her, and to him, that meant he’d make her eyes roll back into her head and scream his name.

Sebastian gripped her hips hard, hopeful his hands would leave covert bruises only she and him would ever see. He snapped his own hips at a rhythmic pace as he studied Arabella’s face for confirmation she was enjoying herself.

The carol of moans that erupted from her lips was all the security he needed. He slammed hard against her, the smack sending ripples up her skin as his cock pounded her walls. She clenched them as tightly as she could manage, her cunt still swollen from her previous orgasm.

“I need to feel you come on my cock,” Sebastian begged. It was the only plea he’d ask of her that night. She could call all the other shots, make him crawl on his knees before he came himself; hell, he’d even finish on the fucking floor if she asked him, but he had to know how it felt to make her fall apart.

“Please,” Arabella whispered until Ominis’ cock forced itself into her mouth again. She gurgled around it as Ominis thrust against her cheek, his tip connecting with the back of her throat. The obscene sound stirred something filthy in them both.

“Sebastian,” Ominis begged. “Hurry up.”

Sebastian nodded in understanding. He pumped hard as his cock speared Arabella’s core, pressing upward into her softest spot as her slickness added more sound to the trio’s sinful symphony.

“Oh fuck,” she wailed, the bed covers balled into her fist. “Sebastian, you’re going to make me come.”

Her passage tightened around Sebastian’s cock as she willed her body into compliance, begging it to submit to her desperate desire. She wanted nothing more than to come undone for Sebastian. Finally, her core began to contract, pulling around Sebastian’s cock until it gave out, spasming as she screamed out his name.

“Ah, shit,” Sebastian groaned as her twitching heat stroked the tip of his cock. He jerked his cock from her just in time to spill his release. It splattered across her stomach as Arabella’s body slackened beneath him.

Sebastian remained on his knees, catching his breath between her legs until Ominis grunted with Arabella’s lips still wrapped around him.

“Ominis, switch places with me,” Arabella breathed. “I want to be on top of you.”

Ominis obeyed without protest, laying his body across the bed as Arabella climbed on top of him. Sebastian admired her form as she straddled their friend, her folds gliding around Ominis’ cock as she impaled herself on him.

Arabella’s eyes fluttered shut as her body adjusted to Ominis. She moaned as she rocked around him, the arousal from her previous climaxes clinging to his cock. He’d never experienced someone so wet.

“She’s a fucking vision,” Sebastian said as Arabella began to bounce. He watched her breasts jiggle with every movement, his release still trickling down her stomach. It was enough to make his cock twitch again.

Arabella tossed her head and moaned as she used Ominis’ cock to grind into her front wall. Ominis held her hips, his jaw clenched with conviction as he remained determined to feel her fuck herself to another orgasm. He needed to feel the surge of her spent cunt and the twitch of her thighs against his torso.

“So fucking pretty,” Sebastian said as he moved toward Arabella to kneel behind her. He kissed her neck and shoulders as he pulled her arms backward, pinning them behind her back. She moaned as she continued to ride Ominis with an arched back, Sebastian’s chest pressed against her as his teeth gently nipped at her neck.

Sebastian reached around her to rub circles into her clit, one hand still keeping her wrists secured behind her back.

“Come on now,” he encouraged. “Let’s hear how loud you are for Ominis. He’s been so patient.”

Arabella nodded in submission, her hips still rising and falling as Ominis’ cock coaxed that blissful spot inside her and Sebastian’s fingers set fire to her bundle of nerves. She could feel the familiar tightening of her deepest spot dueling the searing sensations over her clit. The whine that fell from her lips swelled into a full-blown shout as the pressure broke and she fluttered around Ominis.

He finally let go too, his typical poise dissolving as his hands throttled her hips and he spilled inside her.

Arabella slumped on top of him to catch her breath as Ominis stilled, the reality of their actions creeping clarity back into his brain. Meanwhile, Sebastian flopped himself facedown onto the bed.

“Come here, darling,” he said as he rolled over with a hand extended toward Arabella. He helped her climb off of Ominis until she had nestled herself between them on the bed, the fingers of one hand intertwined with Ominis’, the other arm flung across Sebastian’s bare chest.

The trio stared at the ceiling, each one waiting on someone else to break the silence. Per usual, it was Sebastian.

“Everyone alright?” he murmured into Arabella’s wild hair.

“Alright,” came a unison reply.

Sebastian smirked to himself, satisfied by a flood of post-sex serotonin. “So, who wants to be the first to admit this was a brilliant idea?” he asked.

Arabella let out a soft giggle while Ominis rolled his eyes. “I suppose you’ve had worse ideas,” he responded carefully. “But we do need to come up with some ground rules for all this… if Arabella wants to continue, that is.”

“Yeah, no pressure, darling,” Sebastian added.

Arabella smiled with sleepy eyes. “My only ground rule is we get a bigger bed,” she said.

“Deal,” the men agreed together.

“And we should probably agree that we’re all three in this together,” Sebastian noted. “Meaning no one gets left out, ever.”

“Agreed,” Arabella and Ominis chimed.

“And we must vow to always be open and honest with each other,” Ominis said. “No secrets or jealousy or suppressed feelings.”

“Suppressed feelings? Us?” Arabella mused. All three laughed. “But seriously, why didn’t you two ever say something?”

“A lot of reasons, darling,” Sebastian answered. “We didn’t want to get in the way of each other and we didn’t want you to come between us. Plus, you’re… you just deserve the world and we don’t ever want to hold you back from that.”

Arabella smiled and squeezed Ominis' hand as she ran playful fingers through Sebastian’s tousled hair. “You boys are my world.”

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