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pucksandpower · 3 months

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It Started With an Appendix

Carlos Sainz x nurse!Reader

Summary: in which an inflamed appendix turns out to be the ultimate matchmaker

Warnings: medical ethics are basically thrown out the window

“Y/N, the patient in room 312 is awake,” a voice calls from the hall outside the nurses’ station.

You make your way down the bright, sterile corridor toward the private room, the scent of antiseptic lingering in the air. Taking a breath, you rap your knuckles lightly on the door before entering.

Carlos Sainz Jr. is propped up in the hospital bed, blinking slowly as the anesthesia wears off. His tousled hair and grogginess make him look adorably vulnerable.

“Hola, señorita,” he slurs with a lopsided grin as you approach. “Are you an angel? You must have fallen from heaven.”

You can’t help but giggle at his cheesy line, shaking your head in amusement. “No, Mr. Sainz, I’m your nurse. You just had your appendix removed.”

“Call me Carlos,” he insists, his Spanish accent thick and velvety. “And you’re definitely an angel to me.”

Suppressing another laugh, you check his vitals and make a note on his chart. “How are you feeling, Carlos? Any pain or nausea?”

“I feel ... floaty,” he murmurs, blinking slowly as he looks you up and down. “But you’re making me feel much better already.”

You bite your lip to contain your smile. This man is incorrigible, even fresh out of surgery. “That’s the pain medication talking, I’m afraid.”

“No, no ...” Carlos protests weakly. “You’re just ... muy bonita. So beautiful.”

His boldness makes warmth bloom in your cheeks. You clear your throat. “Why don’t you try to get some rest? The anesthesia can make people loopy for a while.”

“Don’t go,” he pouts, trying and failing to grab your hand from the bed. “Stay and keep me company, hermosa.”

You gently lay his hand back at his side. “I’ll be just down the hall if you need anything, okay?”

Carlos levels you with a look that could melt glaciers. “At least tell me your name, ángel?”

Holding his smoldering gaze, you reply softly, “It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he echoes, savoring each syllable. “What a beautiful name. Maybe I’ll dream of you, Y/N ...”

With a flustered smile, you turn and exit the room, his flirtatious words still ringing in your ears. This man is going to be the death of you.

Over the next few hours, you check on Carlos periodically, each time greeted by a fresh cheesy line or thinly-veiled compliment. He’s relentless, but also strangely endearing in his drug-addled state.

“Did the sun come out or did you just smile at me?”

“Are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got fine written all over you.”

“I must be in a museum, because you truly are a work of art.”

You roll your eyes at each one, but can’t deny the little thrill it sends through you. Despite his grogginess, Carlos’ charisma still shines through effortlessly.

By the time your shift ends, you’re almost disappointed you won’t get to hear any more of his terrible pickup lines. You linger a moment in his doorway after bringing him his evening dose of medication.

“Feeling any better?” You ask kindly.

Carlos gives you a crooked smile. “I feel a lot better when you’re around, querida.”

You shake your head in playful exasperation. “Get some rest. I’m off for the night.”

His expression turns almost ... wistful? “Will I see you again?”

Something warm blooms in your chest at his hopeful tone. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” you assure him. “Same time.”

The bright grin that stretches across his face is worth a million cheesy lines. “Buenas noches, mi ángel.”

You don’t bother holding back your smile this time. “Good night, Carlos.”

As you make your way home, his handsome face and melted chocolate voice keep popping into your mind unbidden.

You try to push thoughts of Carlos from your mind as you cook yourself dinner and get ready for bed. He’s just a patient — a ridiculously charming one, yes, but a patient all the same.

Still, as you drift off to sleep, his teasing grin and warm brown eyes seem seared into the back of your mind ...

The next morning, you arrive at the hospital with a new spring in your step. You can’t help but look forward to seeing Carlos again, newly appendix-less or no.

When you enter his room with his breakfast tray, the sleepy Spaniard perks up instantly at the sight of you. “Y/N! Buenos dias, hermosa!”

You chuckle at his enthusiasm. “Good morning, Carlos. How are you feeling today?”

“Much better now that mi ángel has arrived,” he declares boldly.

As you check his vitals, he continues to bat those ridiculously long eyelashes at you. “You must be a hell of a thief, because you stole my heart from across the hospital room.”

You snort at the line, rolling your eyes in amusement. “You do realize those cheesy pick-up lines aren’t going to work on me, right?”

“Not cheesy ... poetic,” Carlos argues with an impish grin. “Poetry for a woman of your beauty.”

You raise an eyebrow in mock skepticism. “Is that so?”

“Of course,” he nods matter-of-factly. “Here, let me demonstrate ...”

Carlos clears his throat dramatically. “Your eyes shame the brilliance of the desert sun, while your lips put roses to shame with their beauty. A sculptor could study your face for a lifetime and never capture its perfection in marble.”

Despite yourself, you can feel heat rising to your cheeks at his earnest compliments. “I ... you can’t just-”

But he’s not done. “While bandits would slay and sack entire cities for even a glimpse of your splendor. Why, the gods themselves weep at being outdone by such a radiant vision of loveliness!”

By now, your face is burning scarlet as he gazes up at you, eyes sparkling impishly. “Th-that’s enough, Carlos,” you manage, turning away and busying yourself straightening his blankets to hide your flustered expression.

You can hear the grin in his voice. “Too much for you, hermosa? I haven’t even gotten to the part about your luscious ti-”

“Carlos!” You squeak, spinning back around with wide eyes.

His mischievous laughter fills the room, head thrown back in pure delight at your scandalized reaction. The melodic sound is utterly infectious — soon you find yourself giggling helplessly along despite your embarrassment.

“You’re terrible, you know that?” You admonish once you’ve caught your breath, trying and failing to look stern.

He winks unapologetically. “I’m just being honest, ángel.”

You shake your head in feigned exasperation, trying to ignore the little thrill his flirtations still send through you. “I should get going before you corrupt me further.”

As you turn to leave, Carlos calls after you. “Until later, mi amor! Don’t forget my poetry books for next time!”

His infectious laughter follows you into the hallway, that bright sound certain to play on a loop in your mind all day ...

Over the next few days, Carlos’ recovery progresses smoothly — maybe a little too smoothly, you think with a private smirk. His cheesy compliments and relentless flirting show no signs of letting up, much to your mingled embarrassment and secret delight.

“For you, hermosa, I would wrestle bulls and paint sunsets!”

“Mother Nature herself must be jealous of your radiant beauty.”

“Careful, or you’ll put the Arabian sun to shame with your smile!”

You somehow manage to roll your eyes and blush simultaneously each time he unleashes a new line. Part of you wishes he would just give it a rest already. But an even bigger part never wants this game you two have going to end.

On your third day caring for Carlos post-op, you arrive to find a small bouquet of red roses sitting on his bedside table. “These are for you, querida!” He announces happily when you enter.

You blink in surprise, taking in the brilliant flowers. “Carlos, you didn’t have to-”

“Of course I did,” he cuts you off dismissively. “An ángel as dazzling as you deserves all the flowers in the world.”

A pleased smile tugs at your lips despite yourself as you inhale their sweet fragrance. “They’re lovely, Carlos ... thank you.”

“Anything for you, mi amor,” he grins impishly. “Though it pains me to give a rose to one who outshines it so effortlessly.”

You shake your head, fighting a blush yet again. “Are you always this much of a shameless flirt?”

His eyes dance with impish delight. “Only to beautiful nurses who make my heart race faster than any lap around the fastest street circuit on the calendar.” Carlos pauses, expression turning serious. “Truthfully Y/N ... I know I’m a patient, but I feel a connection with you. Something deeper than just pretty words.”

You regard him carefully, caught off guard by his sudden earnestness. Part of you wants to laugh it off, dismiss his words like all the cheesy lines before. But something in his warm and open gaze gives you pause.

“I ... feel it too,” you admit quietly after a moment. “I don’t know why, it’s just ... a spark. Like we’ve known each other for years.”

Carlos’s face breaks into a brilliant smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Exactly, ángel! A connection of the soul — that is what it feels like to me.”

He holds out a hand in invitation, eyes soft yet intense. “Come over here? Let me get a closer look at mi amor’s beautiful face.”

You move toward the bed instinctively, taking his hand as he guides you to sit at the edge. His touch sends little electric tingles coursing through you that raise goosebumps along your arms. Even when you’re seated, Carlos has to look up slightly from where he’s reclining on a pile of pillows to meet your eyes, his thumb caressing your knuckles tenderly.

“So lovely,” he murmurs huskily, eyes tracing your features reverently. “A woman more beautiful than Aphrodite herself. And just as captivating ...”

Slowly, carefully, he lifts your joined hands to brush his lips along your knuckles in a feather-light kiss. The simple, intimate gesture steals the breath from your lungs.

“Carlos ...” you start breathlessly, hardly daring to move lest you break the hypnotic spell between you two.

He gives you that crooked, heart-melting grin. “Let me take you to dinner when I’m out of here, mi ángel? So I can woo you properly like you deserve.”

Despite the warm tingles his attention still sends through you, you nibble your lip uncertainly. “I ... I don’t think that would be appropriate. You’re my patient-”

“Just dinner,” he interjects smoothly. “As a thank you for taking such wonderful care of me. I insist on repaying you somehow.”

You search his face, wanting so badly to throw caution to the wind and say yes. He could charm the feathers off a bird, this man.

“Just dinner,” he reiterates in a low, sincere tone. “And if nothing else ... maybe we both make a new friend, yes?”

A slow smile spreads across your face, anticipation blooming in your chest. “Alright then. Just dinner.”

The boyish grin he gives you makes your breath catch. “Excellent! I’ll wine and dine you like a true gentleman, you’ll see.”

You roll your eyes, even as a giggle escapes you. “I’ll hold you to that.”

With a gentle squeeze of your hand, Carlos lifts it once more to brush his lips across your knuckles, holding your gaze intently.

“I cannot wait, mi amor.”

***

The luxurious restaurant that Carlos chose for your dinner date is dimly lit by ornate lanterns and alive with the sounds of traditional music. You can’t help but let your eyes linger on him as you’re shown to your private table tucked away in a secluded corner.

Even in a simple shirt and slacks, Carlos looks effortlessly dashing. His warm eyes crinkle at the corners when he catches you staring, rewarding you with that heart-melting smile.

“See something you like, querida?” He teases once you’re seated across from him.

You feel heat rush to your cheeks at being so brazenly caught out. Recovering quickly, you arch an eyebrow cooly. “You just look different out of that hospital gown, that’s all.”

Carlos throws back his head with a rich laugh. “Ah, so you prefer me in my natural state then? Bueno, no complaints here!”

You shake your head in amusement, trying not to smile too widely. “Is that ego really as big as they say?”

“What ego?” He asks innocently, shrugging broad shoulders. “This is merely healthy self-confidence, mi ángel.”

The banter comes so effortlessly between you two, like going back-and-forth with an old friend rather than a man you just met days ago. Carlos reaches across the table to take your hand, calloused fingers stroking your knuckles gently.

“Truthfully? I’m just thrilled you agreed to have dinner with me tonight,” he admits in a low tone. “I wasn’t sure if all my flirting was too much.”

You chuckle softly, gazing at him through the glow of the lantern between you. “It was definitely ... persistent. But also strangely charming, if I’m being honest.”

A pleased grin stretches across Carlos’ face, lighting up his handsome features. His thumb caresses your knuckles tenderly as he holds your eyes.

“I meant what I said, Y/N ... I felt an unexplainable connection with you from the moment I woke up in that hospital bed.” His expression turns almost wondering. “Despite my joking and terrible pick-up lines, there was something deeper drawing me to you. Like my soul recognized yours, si?”

You nod slowly, inexplicably understanding exactly what he means. That spark, that feeling of having known him for years — it’s indescribable and yet so real at the same time.

“I felt it too,” you murmur. “A pull, like I was meant to meet you.” You give a soft, self-conscious laugh. “It sounds silly saying it out loud.”

But Carlos shakes his head adamantly. “Not silly at all, cariño. Spiritual, cosmic, whatever you want to call it — I felt it too, and I don’t question these things anymore.”

He leans in conspiratorially. “Do you know what the nomadic Bedouin peoples of Arabia call that? Finding your namiah.”

You can’t help the way your heart flutters at the unfamiliar word and the enchanted look on his face. “What does it mean?” You breathe.

“It translates roughly to your twin soul,’" Carlos explains in a hushed tone. “Two souls destined to connect in this life. Bound together across lifetimes, finally reunited.”

He gives your hand a meaningful squeeze, utterly transfixed. “The Bedouins believe when you encounter your namiah, it’s sacred — a reunion that must be honored and embraced, regardless of what life may throw your way. Because you’ve been given a second chance with your twin soul.”

His words seem to reverberate somewhere deep within you, ringing with an ancient truth you can’t fully grasp but feel with your entire being. Impulsively, you lift Carlos’s hand to your cheek, holding it there as you bathe in his wonder-filled gaze.

For a long, charged moment, the whole world narrows to just the two of you sharing this cosmic revelation. Then the spell breaks as you let out a breathless laugh, eyes shining with amazed delight.

“You believe in destined soulmates? I never would have guessed,” you tease gently.

He chuckles warmly in return, leaning back but keeping your hand pressed tenderly against his cheek. “The universe works in mysterious ways, querida. I’ve learned not to question things my heart recognizes as true.”

A comfortable silence stretches between you, filled with unspoken understanding and newfound intimacy. He grazes his thumb along your cheekbone reverently.

“That’s why I couldn’t stop myself from flirting with you, you know,” Carlos muses in that rumbly tone. “You captivated me from the first moment I laid eyes on you. I knew I had to at least try winning your heart, mi ángel.”

You shake your head in fond exasperation, fighting a smile. “Carlos Sainz, actually a hopeless romantic? Who would have thought ...”

His playful grin is back in full force. “Only for you, hermosa.” Then his eyes take on a hint of hesitant hopefulness. “Speaking of ... there’s actually another reason I wanted to take you to dinner.”

You regard him curiously as the waiter arrives to fill your glasses with water. “Oh? Do tell.”

Carlos takes a fortifying sip before fixing you with those warm, earnest eyes again. “I would be honored if you came to Australia with me in a few weeks. As my guest for the race in Melbourne.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, mouth falling open slightly. “The ... the Grand Prix? In Australia?”

He nods eagerly. “It’s at the end of the month. I will arrange for your travel, put you up in the plushest hotel, everything. My treat.”

Carlos leans in closer, an impish gleam dancing in his eyes. “It would give me the perfect chance to keep wooing you properly, mi amor.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, barely able to wrap your mind around the unexpected invitation. “Carlos, I ... I can’t just fly across the world like that! I have work, responsibilities-”

“Ah, but you’d only need to take a week or so off,” he counters smoothly. “I’ll handle all the details. You just need to relax and be my honored guest for the weekend.”

He gives you that smoldering look that makes your heart skip a beat. “Let me spoil you, mi ángel. Just say the word and it’s yours.”

Part of you is tempted — so, so tempted by the enthralling prospect. A luxurious vacation with this enchanting man who is already well on his way to sweeping you off your feet? It sounds utterly magical.

But the practical part of you holds you back, brow furrowing with uncertainty. “I don’t know ... even taking time off for a trip like that would be difficult.”

Carlos regards you intently for a moment, reading your hesitation. Then he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, voice turning softer yet insistent.

“Y/N, when was the last time you took a real vacation? Away from the hospital, away from responsibility for a little while ... to just breathe and enjoy life?”

You open your mouth automatically, then pause. Truthfully, you can’t even remember. Life has become an endless cycle of work and sleep with little room for anything else.

“Exactly,” Carlos nods knowingly at your silence. “Everyone needs to get away sometimes, querida. To recharge their soul before the daily grind drains them completely. Even an ángel like you.”

He fixes you with those molten brown eyes again. “Let me give that to you, mi amor. A week to relax, to be spoiled and carefree in one of the most beautiful corners of your world.” One side of his mouth quirks up teasingly. “And with a ruggedly handsome Formula 1 driver to keep you company, of course ...”

You chuckle in spite of yourself, warmth blooming in your chest. He has a point — when was the last time you allowed yourself to have fun and truly unwind? You certainly can’t remember. And if there’s anyone who seems like the ideal travel companion ...

Carlos notices your resolve softening and presses his advantage. “I promise you, it will be an experience you’ll never forget. Put yourself in my hands for just one week — let me take care of everything so you don’t have to lift a finger. What do you say, hermosa?”

His gaze is so open and full of restrained yearning that your breath hitches. You search those bewitching eyes for one more long moment, feeling yourself teetering on the edge of a decision.

Then, with a breathless laugh, you give in to impulse.

“Okay! You win. I’m yours for a week in Australia. Show me what you have in store.”

The smile that slowly spreads across his face is brighter and more radiant than the high desert sun. Carlos lifts your hand to his lips to brush a lingering kiss across your knuckles, sending delicious sparks dancing along your skin.

“Your wish is my command, mi ángel,” he murmurs fervently against your fingers, holding your breathless gaze. “I’ll make sure it’s a trip you’ll never forget.”

***

The bright Australian sun feels glorious on your skin as you relax on the private rooftop terrace of Ferrari’s plush motorhome. Leaning back on the cushioned lounger, you close your eyes and inhale the first deep breath you’ve taken in ... well, you can’t remember how long.

For just this fleeting moment, all the stresses of everyday life as a hardworking nurse seem to melt away into the balmy afternoon air. You’re worlds away from the frenetic hospital routine, from the bright fluorescent lights and permeating smell of antiseptic. Here, surrounded by towering palms swaying lazily in the breeze, you can almost imagine you’re at a lavish resort rather than the Albert Park paddock.

Almost.

A fond smile tugs at your lips as the roar of engines echoes across the circuit. That unmistakable sound is your reminder of just how enchantingly surreal this entire experience has been.

When Carlos first invited you to be his guest at the race, you expected some form of VIP experience to watch the Formula 1 action up close. But you never could have imagined the level of extravagance and pampering he had planned.

From the moment you landed, you’ve been put up at a five-star hotel in the lap of luxury — a stunning penthouse suite, complete with a butler at your beck and call plus a private concierge team to arrange anything you may need. Not that you’ve had time to need anything, with Carlos’s personal assistant, Elena, catering to your every whim.

You had tried to object at first, insisting this level of opulence wasn’t necessary. But Carlos merely placed a finger over your lips with a mischievous grin.

“Ah ah ah, mi ángel — you agreed to let me spoil you for a week, remember?” He chided playfully. “No objections!”

Before you could protest further, he pulled you into his arms, warm and solid and smelling faintly of bergamot. “Just relax and enjoy la buena vida for once. That’s my only condition.”

Looking into those warm brown eyes, you found yourself getting deliciously lost as his breath fanned across your lips. What choice did you have but to nod breathlessly and let yourself be whisked away into his lavish wonderland?

And it has been nothing short of wondrous so far. After being settled into your palatial suite with its giant marble bathroom and wall-to-wall windows, Elena escorted you into the exclusive world of Formula 1.

The Grand Prix itself is certainly glamorous — the electric atmosphere, roar of the cars driving at breath-taking speeds, and prestigious crowds dripping in finery and jewels. But it’s the behind-the-scenes action in the paddock that truly left you dazzled.

Elena led you through a dizzying labyrinth of state-of-the-art motorhomes and garage bays with cutting-edge equipment full of personnel bustling about in a flurry of coordinated movements. She introduced you to a mind-boggling array of mechanics, aerodynamicists, race strategists, hospitality workers, and more.

The entire operation felt like the world’s most organized theatrical production playing out before your very eyes. And at the center of it all? A beacon in red drawing all eyes to where he’s leaning against a metal wall towards the side of the garage? None other than Carlos himself.

Seeing him in this element, commanding the hushed and reverent attention of dozens of crew members with an intense yet unhurried confidence ... there was something almost unbearably sexy about it. His typical warmth and charm were overshadowed by a blazing intensity and poise more potent than any poem he could compose under the haze of painkillers.

Between briefings and warm ups, you managed to steal a few stolen moments with Carlos. Whether brushing a clandestine kiss to the back of your hand or pulling you aside for a heated embrace out of view, he always reaffirmed this sublime fantasy was for you … and you alone.

“Having fun so far, mi ángel?” He would murmur, lips brushing your ear as his hands skimmed teasingly down your sides.

You shivered at the gravelly timbre of his voice, rendered speechless by the fire flickering in his eyes. How could anyone put the depths of your experience into words?

So you simply answered by pulling him into a searing kiss, fingers tangling in those sinfully tousled locks. By the time you parted, Carlos’ pupils were blown wide, chest rising and falling heavily against yours.

“Save some of that fire for after the race, cariño,” he’d say thickly with a wolfish grin. “You may just be the greatest distraction I’ve ever had to overcome.”

With one last smoldering look, he rejoined his crew, leaving you flustered yet utterly euphoric. Yes, Carlos Sainz had managed to spirit you away into an all-encompassing dream — one you never wanted to wake up from.

The sound of a nearby door opening brings you back to the present with a contented sigh. You let your eyes drift open again, blinking against the brilliant sunlight as a familiar figure emerges onto the terrace.

“There’s my hermosa,” Carlos greets you warmly, slipping off his cap to run a hand through his ridiculously perfect hair. The simple gesture makes your breath catch as always.

You feel a smile stretch across your face as he approaches. “Hi there, stranger. Taking a break?”

“Something like that,” he chuckles, dropping into the lounger beside you with a groan. “Just a quick respite from the crowd.”

Carlos turns toward you with poorly concealed mischief dancing in his eyes. “Though ... I may have also needed an excuse to see this beautiful sight again.”

You roll your eyes in exaggerated exasperation to hide your giddiness at his flattery. He’s been adorably smooth this entire trip. “Save your lines, Casanova. You already got me here, remember?”

“Ah, but a man can never compliment his lady enough,” Carlos objects smoothly, grasping your hand in his calloused one to press a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Starting with how radiant you look basking in the Australian sun, mi ángel. A lesser man would get jealous.”

You shake your head, even as tingles race across your skin from his gesture. “Is flattery how you butter up any pretty girl who catches your eye?”

“Just the especially gorgeous ones,” he winks unapologetically. “But there’s only one who’s made me want to be a hopeless romantic.”

With dizzying ease, he leverages himself across the narrow space between you, caging you in on all sides with his toned arms. Your breath catches at his sudden proximity, pulse quickening from the heated look in his eyes.

“Perhaps I should stop with pretty words ...” Carlos rumbles in that velvety accent, closing the remaining distance until you can feel the heat radiating from his body. “And use actions instead.”

His mouth captures yours in a slow, smoldering kiss that has you melting bonelessly against the plush cushions. Large hands splay across the dip of your waist, firm yet intoxicatingly gentle. You melt into the unhurried caress of his lips, addicted to the way he sets your entire body deliciously alight.

When you finally part, you’re flushed and breathless, gazing up dazedly at his twinkling eyes. “You’re ... terribly persuasive, Mr. Sainz,” you manage.

He rewards you with a wolfish grin and another toe-curling kiss. “Only for you, mi amor,” he growls against your lips, pulling you flush against the hard planes of his chest. “Only for you ...”

A tiny gasp of surprise parts your lips as Carlos suddenly freezes, mouth going taut. You tilt your head back slightly to meet his gaze questioningly.

“What’s wrong?”

He drops his darkened eyes down toward his palm sheepishly. It’s then you notice the tiny trickle of red seeping from a paper cut across his skin.

“Oh no, it seems our ... passion got a bit too rough,” Carlos grins cheekily. “Gave myself a battle wound.”

Rolling your eyes, you gingerly take his hand to inspect the miniscule wound. Just a thin cut that was reopened, likely from reviewing telemetry packets between briefings.

“It’s nothing serious,” you chide. “Though I suppose I could play nurse for you one more time.”

He gives you a devilish look from under his inky lashes. “Please do, mi ángel. I’ll need your ... very special care.”

You level an unimpressed glare at him, slipping off the lounger toward the rooftop bathroom to grab the first aid kit inside. By the time you return, Carlos has the audacity to be sitting patiently with his lightly bleeding palm extended in offering. Like a king awaiting tribute from his loyal subjects.

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” you scoff, cracking open the kit and perching on the edge of his lounger. With the utmost care and tenderness, you gently apply antibacterial ointment and wrap the cut with an oversized adhesive bandage.

“There, all better, your Highness,” you announce with a solemn nod.

But rather than releasing your hand, Carlos envelops it fully in both of his. His warm eyes search yours impishly.

“Actually, hermosa ... there is one last thing that could help it heal even faster.”

You quirk a skeptical brow at him, already thoroughly endeared by whatever outrageous thing is about to come out of his mouth. “Oh? And what’s that?”

The corner of his lips twitches up in that rakish half-smirk you adore. “A magical, healing ... kiss.”

Of course. Of bloody course.

“You can’t be serious,” you laugh, trying in vain to tug your hand back. Carlos simply holds it fast, fervently earnest despite the devilish twinkle dancing in his eyes.

“Completely serious, mi amor! The power of a beautiful woman’s kiss has incredible healing properties.” He pulls your hand close. “Especially from an ángel like you ...”

Warmth blooms across your cheeks at his antics, head shaking in amusement. Even after weeks of witnessing Carlos’ particular brand of cheeky charisma up close, he can still catch you off-guard and leave you deliciously flustered.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” The reprimand lacks any bite as you can’t help but grin back at him, captivated as always.

His answering look is all playful innocence — one you know better than to trust for a single second. “Does that mean you won’t bless me with your magic?”

Brown eyes beg at you over your trapped knuckles, full lower lip jutting out in a pout far too enticing to resist. With a shaky laugh, you finally acquiesce and bend forward to press a slow, petal-soft kiss over the bandage.

A grin stretches across Carlos’ face once you pull back. “My hero!” He exclaims, catching your hand in both of his to nuzzle the inside of your wrist adoringly. “See, querida? Already I can feel the enchanted restorative properties working wonders.”

“You’re utterly shameless!” You let out another breathless laugh.

“Only because you make me crazy, mi ángel,” Carlos retorts with an exaggerated groan, tugging you closer until you half-cover his toned body.

You go easily, resting comfortably against the solid wall of his chest. Strong arms wrap around your waist, securing you in place as Carlos pillows his cheek atop your head with a contented sigh.

“You render me nonsensical and utterly bewitched. I’m powerless against your effortless magic.”

The words rumble through you in that low timbre you’ve become addicted to, spreading warmth from the crown of your head to the very tips of your toes. With a quiet hum of contentment, you tuck yourself tighter into his side and watch the swaying of the palms framed against the brilliant blue sky.

In this moment, the entire world seems to shrink away into insignificance — nothing but you and Carlos tangled in this serene haven apart from all space and time. Nothing but the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek, the cocooning circle of arms that sets you ablaze and soothes you in equal measure.

Just as you feel yourself being lulled into a state of blissful relaxation, Carlos presses a lingering kiss to your hair. His chest vibrates with quiet yet fervent words.

“Thank you, amor ... for giving me a chance to make you mine.”

Pure affection blooms golden in your chest at the reverent sincerity of his tone. You tilt your head up to find his warm brown eyes already trained on you. Filled with adoration yet still flickering with that insuppressible spark of mischief and zest you adore so much.

With an impulsive hand curling around the nape of his neck, you pull his mouth down toward yours. As you part, twin smiles linger on your swollen lips.

“And thank you,” you smile wryly. “For having an appendix that decided to take matters into its own hands so we could meet.”

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arieslost · 3 months

Note

you have pushed me to ask so here I go

I present my idea of motorcyclist!oscar and his gf who is afraid of motorcycles. He convinces her to try it onc3 and BOOM hands around him holding on the dear life.

I want to hold on to him

I can't stop thinking about that tiktok

here's a ss I took from the tiktok edit

what a yummy man

the entire time i wrote this i kept coming back to look at this picture because oh my goodness gracious. i hope this lives up to ur expectations <33 definitely wanna write more biker!osc after this

hold on tight | op81

“Just one time?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No way.”

“Do you even love me at all?” Oscar asks dramatically, jutting his lower lip out for extra effect.

“That’s not going to work on me, Piastri.” You shake your head vehemently. “I refuse to get on that death machine. It’s bad enough that you ride it all the time.”

“Come onnnn,” he whines, tugging you up off of the bed and into his arms.

The two of you look like polar opposites— him with his leather jacket and riding gloves still on, smelling faintly of exhaust, and you in plaid pajama pants and one of his worn out t-shirts. You suppose that’s what makes your relationship work so well, opposites attract and whatever. All relationships take compromise though, and this is one “compromise” that, thus far, you’ve refused to make.

In your eyes, it’s not a compromise. But Oscar has been asking you to be his “backpack” practically since the two of you met.

“What do I have to do to convince you?” He’s asking, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“Hmm, nothing.” You smile up at him, and it fades just as fast when you see the excitement in his eyes. “Because it’s never going to happen. I like being alive, thank you very much.”

“Baby, you know you’ll be safe with me. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” He says sincerely, his pleading tone now gone. “I’ve been riding my entire life. I did all the crashing before I got my license. Haven’t crashed since.”

“Yeah, that makes me feel better.” You mutter, hiding your face in his chest so he can’t see your resolve slowly starting to crumble.

“It would be so fun,” he continues, arms tightening around your frame as he starts to sway you both side to side a little. “All you’d have to do is hold on to me. I’ll do all the work. You trust me, don’t you?”

“With all things except the death machine,” you say, voice muffled by the material of his jacket.

“I love you, but I’m gonna need you to stop calling her ‘the death machine,’ honey.”

“Her?” You look up at him, affronted. “I’m definitely not doing it now. Wouldn’t want to get between you and the other woman in your life.”

Oscar laughs. His laugh has always been more of a giggle around you, which is such a contrast to his outward appearance that it never fails to make you melt.

“You’re the only woman for me, which is why you’re the only woman I’ve ever asked to be my backpack.” He says.

“Don’t try to butter me up with the whole backpack thing again.” You roll your eyes and try to pull away from him, but he somehow manages to twirl you and bring you right back into him.

“It’s not me buttering you up, I’m just telling the truth. Come on, baby.” he leans in and gives you a long kiss that leaves your head spinning a little. “One time. And if you don’t like it, I promise I won’t ask again.”

You let out a frustrated groan, because he has to know that he’s won at this point. That kiss was nothing but tactical. “Fine. Fine. But you can’t just kiss me like that every time you want something from me, it’s unfair.”

“Yes, yes!” He squeezes you into him, kissing the top of your head over and over. “You won’t regret this.”

“I already am a little bit.” You grumble.

That’s how you find yourself standing on the sidewalk with Oscar in front of you adjusting a helmet on your head.

“This is making me claustrophobic,” you complain as he flips the visor up so he can see your face.

“I’m just making sure you’re safe, baby.” When you furrow your eyebrows, he sighs and drops his hands to his sides. “If you really don’t want to do this, you don’t have to, okay?”

This makes you relent a little bit. “Osc, I’m sorry. I’m just scared. I don’t like motorcycles, like, at all.” You smile as best you can with the helmet on, hoping it goes to your eyes so he can see it. “I want to do this. You just… you really have to help me.”

He nods, the tension in his shoulders dissipating. “Of course, honey. C’mon.”

He takes your hand and leads you over to his motorcycle. While you’re terrified just looking at it, you can’t deny that it’s absolutely beautiful. Streamlined and sleek, like he literally just bought it, even though you know he’d already had it for a year when you first met him.

He looks almost the same as he did when you first met— all black getup, signature leather jacket, riding gloves, and of course, his strangely colorful helmet that doesn’t match the rest of him. His hair was long when you met him, and you still remember being absolutely starstruck when you saw his face for the first time. It had felt like everything went into slow motion when he took his helmet off, pushed his hair back, and instantly made eye contact with you from where you were just exiting the bookstore.

Needless to say, you were done for. And now here you are, a year later, letting him help you onto the death machine.

He never said you had to stop calling it (sorry, her) that if you were thinking it to yourself.

“You okay? Comfy?” Oscar asks, reaching to adjust your helmet one more time.

“Yup. Mhmm. Totally.” You nod, not even trying to sound convincing considering your heart is in your throat and he hasn’t even started the engine yet.

“Great,” he kisses the top of your helmet and smiles at you cutely before climbing onto the bike so he’s seated in front of you. “Just hold on tight, okay baby? Like this.”

He reaches behind him, grabbing your hands that had been anxiously scratching at the material of your jeans and pulling you forward so your arms are wrapped around his waist. He doesn’t have to say anything else– you’re quick to tighten your hold around him, fingers clutching at the material of his open jacket. You immediately feel your anxieties begin to dissipate as soon as you’re holding onto him, and you shift your whole body forward on the seat so your front is pressed as close as it can be to his back. When he lets out a quiet grunt, you release your grip a little.

“I’m sorry! Am I holding you too tight?” “No, no,” he huffs out a laugh, patting your thigh. “Do whatever you need to do. Just warn me if you’re planning to suffocate me at all.”

“Listen, Piastri–” you begin, and he cuts you off by twisting around to look at you.

“Okay, I get it, I’m sorry.” He’s giggling now, and you let go of him to smack his helmet. “I’m done, I promise. As long as you feel safe, honey.”

“Come on, let’s go before I chicken out.” You say, quickly reassuming your hold.

It’s times like these where you appreciate just how buff your boyfriend is. He has something of a sleeper build, so one quick glance at him wouldn’t really reveal much, but when you’re pressed up against him like this, you can feel the muscles in his back and shoulders and his abs through his shirt when your hand slips past his jacket. He’s warm and solid against you, and that in itself is comforting enough that you don’t go flying off the seat when he starts up the engine and you instantly feel your whole body start to vibrate from the force of it.

“I’ll check in with you, okay?” He says over the loud rumbling. “Hit me in the head or something and I’ll pull over. Sound good?” Having him to hold on to is nice, but your throat is still dry thinking about all the dastardly possibilities that could occur when the bike starts moving, so you have to swallow a couple times in order for him to hear you over the engine. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Your heart falls out of your ass and lands on the pavement when he pulls out onto the road, the engine roaring as he accelerates.

“God, please spare me,” you say out loud, grateful that Oscar can’t hear you over the engine.

As soon as he gets onto the freeway, that’s when you realize just how much fun you’ve been missing out on.

It’s never been a secret to you that Oscar loves going fast. There have been plenty of occasions where you’ll drive somewhere, do whatever it is you have planned, and then you’ll turn to him and ask if he wants to drive home just to give him some peace of mind knowing that the journey back will be cut down by a few minutes at least. Being in the car is fun enough, but being on the back of his motorcycle is different.

You thought you’d be more scared. You’re terrified, sure, but even though you can feel the wind whipping against your clothes and you’re flying past cars on either side of the freeway, you’re holding on to Oscar, and you could easily do that forever. You’re quickly warming up to the concept of being his backpack, and you can feel yourself relaxing your death grip around him. This is actually kind of fun. Okay, really fun. You actually can’t believe you were so adamantly refusing to do this this whole time.

Every so often, he reaches back with one hand and rubs your thigh, or holds one of your hands that is now tucked comfortably into his jacket pocket. You thought you’d be freaking out about him taking a hand off the handlebars, but he exudes confidence on the bike, and he never wavers no matter what he’s doing with his hands.

He doesn’t go very far; the whole ride lasts maybe 20 minutes, but it feels like half that with how quick the bike is. Your arms ache from all the muscles in them working the whole time, and when he helps you off the back of the bike your legs feel like jello.

“How was it?” He asks, helping you pull the bulky helmet off your head.

Your hair falls in your face and he brushes it away for you before you can even lift your hands. He cups your cheeks, a small smile on his face as he admires you.

“We are definitely doing that again.”

His smile grows, and he places a sweet, adoring kiss on your lips. “I knew I finally found my backpack.”

word count: 1,787

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: writing this has me thinking up a whole biker au for multiple drivers... thank you for this gold mine of a request <33

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are always appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings

#aries answers #venus <3 #op81 week #full fic #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #op81 x you #op81 x reader #op81 imagine #op81 fluff

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meidnightrain · 2 months

Text

I BET ON LOSING DOGS❞ - aventurine

summary: even if you’d lose, you’d always bet on this doomed love no matter what

warnings: reader is gn, 2.1 penacony quest spoilers, angst, hurt/no comfort

notes: i love this song so it was only fair for me to write this out for aventurine, i’ve been in the mood for angst lately so this came to be. had to repost this two times because tumblr kept hiding my post from tags 😭

taglist(open): @akutasoda , @yvnaology , @tragedy-of-commons , @ryuryuryuyurboat

there’s a resounding silence that eats you up in the aftermath of it all. people would describe it as thick enough that you could slice it and plate it like a cake. not this time, it’s empty, like someone is missing, and that absence has torn a rip in the very fabric of your soul.

it was your fault anyway, for betting on losing dogs when this all started. you knew that this outcome was inevitable; for what else would a gambler love more than betting his all even with stacked odds? AVENTURINE was different—oh, so different—than all the other people that had tried to woo you before. with carefully calculated moves and a meticulous plan to win your heart, he had struck gold with you. but the two sides of him were in stark contrast, hiding the other vulnerable side of him that no one could ever see. that was, until you came along and tore down his stone walls like they were paper.

and you would have done it all over again, betting on losing dogs even if it meant that your heart would get smashed into smithereens. he never needed to give you money or whatever luxuries he’d bribe others with to make a deal, for your heart would drop whenever you heard his name.

a bad ending was inevitable to this doomed narrative, an outcome far outweighing the positives. did it matter whether you’d get broken over and over again, trying to love someone broken? you’d rip out pieces from your heart and give them to him so he could fill the missing pieces of his. but you both still stayed anyway, despite knowing how this would all end, and you’d always call him your baby.

he was reluctant to love; it’s easier to bet it all when you have nothing at stake if you fail, but you were on the line. it would be a lie to say that he was fearless and always confident in his abilities, which would wiggle him out of any situation. sometimes, a blessing from the gaiathra triclops could only bring you so far, and he worried about when that luck would run out. he could never match the love you gave him, unable to leave this loop and cycle of self-hatred that had followed him all his life. how could AVENTURINE tell you, who treated him like he was the world to you, that he was only worth 60 tanba?

the air in the dreamscape always had this sickly sweet smell of soulglad that would tickle your nose and make you sick to your stomach. was that how you felt about this doomed love—feeling sick knowing that this could only end badly?

“i’m afraid that i’m going to have to bear this burden; this feeling of knowing something inside you is constantly missing. and that something is you.”

he doesn’t look at you; his expression is hidden behind the shadows, obscuring his face. some would compare him to a peacock, his train feathers in a dazzling display like the cards in his hand. but the feathers will eventually fade, like how luck eventually runs out.

“one day, it won’t be there anymore. i don’t know when that day will come, but i want you to know that i…will always love you.”

“but i love you more than you could ever imagine, and that’s why that feeling will stay with me till the end of my days. it’s because you’re going far away, somewhere i can’t follow.”

this time, AVENTURINE doesn’t offer you solace or comfort; he stands with such stillness that you could have mistaken him for a statue. no words, no movements, no comfort, no reassurance. he knows that his time is up; the very thing that he’s craved for so long has come, but at the price of your heart. torn between you and the freedom that he’s sought all his life, he chooses himself. so he chooses to walk out the door, with his heart in his throat and it’s like all of you leaves with him.

the aftermath is silent and cold, unforgiving like the cool waters that would rain down from the sky of sigonia scarcely. it’s deep, and it’s bone-chilling, pushing your head down under the raging waves relentlessly as you sink helplessly into the water with no one to pull you out. the dreamscape is in disarray. the family and their loyal dogs scrambling to keep up appearances and re-opening the theme park despite its stage being decimated by his show, his performance, and the grandest death that he always dreamed of having.

looking at the torn sky of this horrid nightmare, you can’t help but wonder why you bet on this failed dream when you’d know that you’d lose and pay for your place by the ring. perhaps it would have felt better if you could have looked into his eyes when he was down—one last time with those eyes that had pierced your soul and crumbled your walls.

AVENTURINE would always win the gamble, even if it meant that he would lose the bet and everything else in the process. you had lost dismally for you’d always wanted him, even if it meant destroying yourselves in the process. and it wouldn’t have been as bad if he had been over you, looking into your eyes as you came right back to him like always. but this time, you were the one who let him slip through your fingers and you were left with nothing but your broken, bleeding heart and false promises of a home you could never return to. he told you forever, that was how long you’d be together and how long you’d call him your home. but forever was too short and the house was haunted now.

and you’d cry thinking of all the words he’d said to you. his affirmations, his compliments, the whispered ‘i love you’ behind closed doors paired with a kiss, and the arguments that’d have your heart racing faster than the speed of light. and you’d cry even harder thinking of all the words you could have said but never did.

#🗞️ - honkai star rail fics #—stellaronhvnters.#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #aventurine angst #honkai star rail angst #hsr angst

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whoistartaglia · 1 year

Text

“are you two dating?”

alhaitham x gn!reader

the question comes from kaveh. this is the third time this week you’ve been at alhaitham’s house, the seventh time this month.

“no.”

there is a stifling silence after you and alhaitham both answer. you look over at alhaitham, and for a brief second your eyes meet, before you’re looking away, at the wall, the ceiling, the floor, at kaveh’s scrutinizing face. he’s unconvinced, obviously.

“so you’re both not secretly dating?” he asks. “because you’ve been at our house a lot recently [name], and i just can’t help but—“

“it’s not your house, it’s mine,” alhaitham interjects, cutting kaveh off. he gives the blonde-haired architect a once over. “don’t you have better things to do than bother us?”

kaveh pretends to think. “well… i do have that project.”

“then why don’t you go work on it?”

“fine, fine,” kaveh says, raising his hands in defense. he turns to leave, but glances over his shoulder, noting your lightly flushed cheeks and continuous refusal to look at alhaitham. the architect smiles. “but you do secretly like each other, right?”

“no.”

another silence. but this time, your responses don’t come in unison. it’s only you who said no, your too-quick response lingering in the air.

“i mean—“ you try, and fail, to explain. kaveh quietly slips out of the room. to not interfere more or escape alhaitham’s brewing wrath, you’re not sure. you try again: “i don’t— well, i didn’t want to say it infront of him, and it’s not like i secretly likeyou, well i do, but oh, how do i say this?” you pause to collect your racing thoughts, snatching and putting them into words.

“it’s okay, [name],” alhaitham says. “kaveh shouldn’t have said all that. you don’t have to epxlain.”

“but i do!” you say. you don’t want alhaitham thinking you don’t like him. you didn’t necessarily want to tell him either, but it was better than him assuming the opposite. alhaitham stands and waits patiently.

you take a breath. “i do like you. i just didn’t want to say so infront of kaveh, so i said no, and i thought you were going to say no too—“

“why would i say no?”

“—because you—“ you pause. “because you don’t like me like that?” it comes out as a question.

alhaitham shakes his head. “i wasn’t going to say so infront of kaveh but i feel similarly for you.”

you feel like you need to sit down. are you dreaming or hallucinating? you pinch yourself and find yourself awake and lucid.

“now,” alhaitham’s voice brings you to the present. his dendro vision flickers to life, green light glowing and pulsating. “i’d love to set up a date with you, but i’m afraid it’ll have to wait.”

“okay, but—where are you going?”

he smiles over his shoulder. his dendro vision flickers again, glowing greener, greener.

“i’m going to murder my housemate.”

#genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #alhaitham headcanons #alhaitham x reader #genshin impact alhaitham #genshin impact alhaitham headcanons

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just-jordie-things · 9 months

Text

[part sixteen] to build a home - gojo satoru

word count: 8.8k warnings: !!manga spoilers!! swearing, jjk-verse style fighting series summary: when (y/n) (y/l/n) catches wind that the notorious sorcerer killer, toji fushiguro, has children, she makes it her personal mission to find them. the catch being she couldn't tell a soul about them- the risk of the zen'in clan learning about them was too great. keeping the secret isn't the hard part, it's lying to her friends, shoko ieiri, geto suguru, and of course gojo satoru, that she struggles with. especially when satoru has suddenly become so keen on keeping an eye on her lately.

series masterlist

[part sixteen] : "The True End"

___

Today was cloudy.

(y/n) didn’t like to believe in silly superstitions, especially weather related ones, but she couldn’t deny that the gray skies and chilly breeze unsettled her.

“So they’re my family?”

She didn’t look down at Megumi, didn’t slow her pace, or show any sign of even hearing him at all. Every question he and his sister had asked in the last ten minutes of their walk had made it to her ears and nestled inside of her paranoid mind, but (y/n) had barely spoken in that time.

In fact, since she’d picked them up and told them exactly where they were going today, she’d barely spoken since. She tried to tell herself that it wasn’t because of fear, that she was simply trying to find the right truths to tell the children. But the leather belt under her shirt that was starting to rub her skin raw felt heavy today, even though it only held a single knife, and she was used to carrying two swords.

“Not really. They’re Dad’s family” Tsumiki corrected her younger brother.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to have the blade on her, after all she’d told Satoru that she wouldn’t do anything reckless. But she wasn’t about to show up at the Zen’in Clan’s compound empty handed and without a means to defend herself. That would be the reckless thing, right?

“And they want me to go live with them because of my dogs?”

“It’s ‘cause you’re a sorcerer” Tsumiki corrected again.

Megumi’s brows furrowed in annoyance at his sister, before he looked up at (y/n) again, hoping she would ease his confusion. He was growing impatient with her silence.

“Well, can’t we just tell them I don’t wanna live with a bunch of strangers?” He asks with a huff.

Finally, (y/n) tilts her head down, bestowing him with her attention. Admittedly, she only gives in because they’d finally reached the meeting place in town that she’d been taking them to, but she realizes she’s been ignoring him for too long, and it wasn’t fair.

The three of them stopped right there on the sidewalk, standing just outside of a shop that didn’t seem too busy, so they wouldn’t be in the way. (y/n) crouches before them so she would be at eye level before explaining the plan, again. “I know this is a lot to take in,” She begins. “And I’m happy to answer all of your questions, if I can, that is. But I need you both to listen very carefully, okay?”

Megumi and Tsumiki give rapid nods of their heads.

“Your father is from the Zen’in Clan, do you remember me talking to you about them, Megumi?”

The boy nods again. “So you remember that they’re a very wealthy family, with a lot of control in the jujutsu society?”

Another nod.

“They think that you’re theirs,” (y/n) says carefully. “They’re old fashioned, and think they deserve to keep you all to themselves. They would pull you out of school, away from Tsumiki, and teach you and raise you themselves. They know that you’re strong, and that you’ll grow up to be one of the finest sorcerers that this world has ever seen. But Megumi…”

She trails off, unsure of how to communicate to him that they weren’t safe. If this plan failed and the Zen’ins claimed him, she didn’t want him to be afraid.

“I don’t want to go with them” Megumi says before (y/n) could finish, and she gives him a small smile.

“Then you won’t,” She says decidedly, standing up and placing a hand on both of their heads. “All that matters is what you want, okay?”

“I want to stay with Tsumiki,” Megumi decides, and (y/n) retracts her hands as he shuffles closer to his sister, who beams brightly. “And you” He adds in a smaller voice.

“Alright,” (y/n) hums with an affirmative nod. “We’re going to make that happen. I have a friend who’s agreed to help too”

“Another sorcerer?” Tsumiki asks.

“He is,” (y/n) says, glancing around the area. “He should be here soon, actually. I’d like you both to meet him before we-”

“Oi!”

Startled by the holler, (y/n) jumps as she whips her head in the opposite direction, although she shouldn’t be surprised as Satoru comes rushing towards them with a bag in his hands that is undoubtedly sweets. Speaking of the devil…

Her brows furrow.

If this idiot made a pitstop for snacks before meeting us here…

Megumi’s expression is just as sour as he watches the stranger approach them with a pair of sunglasses and a wide grin on his face. If this was (y/n’s) friend, and he assumed it was, he already wasn’t a fan.

(y/n) made a motion to the Fushiguro kids, silently telling them to stay put, before she walked towards Satoru with her hands on her hips, ready to scold him.

“You did not go get snacks,” She said in a low voice, just to be sure Megumi and Tsumiki wouldn’t overhear. “You’re late, you know”

“I’m not that late,” Satoru waved his hand dismissively. “Besides, I figured the mood would be a downer,” He peeks over her shoulder at the two children that were watching them like hawks.

The one, the girl, had wide eyes and a curious look about her face as she glanced between him and (y/n), as though she were mentally trying to fill in the gaps of their relation to one another. It wasn’t necessarily an eerie look, in fact she wore a sweet smile, but the investigative eyes did have his skin crawl with that feeling of being watched. The other, the boy, was a whole other story. His eyes were pointed in a clear glare, unmoving, unblinking, focused solely on Satoru. There’s a shadow of a much older man on the young child’s features, something dark and mysterious- too mysterious for a kid that (y/n) had told him was only eight years old. And yet, despite the heavy evil eye, he almost seems unbothered, unimpressed, already irritated.

This was the brat that had inherited Ten Shadows?

“And I was right. Sheesh,” Satoru quickly brought his attention back to her. “What’s wrong with the little one? You feeding him too many vegetables?”

(y/n) narrowed her eyes as she frowned.

“Well, good thing I brought dessert!” He’s beaming again as he lifts the paper bag in his hand. “Every kid can be bought with dessert”

“That’s not…ugh,” (y/n) huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “We’re literally trying to stop a kid from being bought today, Satoru,” She mutters. “And could you just… could you tone it down? You’re gonna freak ‘em out”

“Relax, sweetheart, I’m great with kids” Satoru said with a smile that told her he’d never been around kids in his life.

“Oh god” She mumbled to herself.

“Watch this” He winked at her before sidestepping and heading towards the Fushiguro kids- who had watched their whole interaction, and were very curious as to who this stranger was.

“I don’t think (y/n) likes him,” Megumi whispered to his sister. “I don’t like him either”

“You haven’t even met him,” Tsumiki whispered back quickly before the approaching man could overhear. “Just try to be nice” She hisses with a small kick to his foot.

Satoru kneels before them both, a grin twisting so far up his lips it took up most of his face. He glances between them quickly before speaking.

“Hi! I’m Gojo Satoru!” He greets, too loudly, but he doesn’t seem to be embarrassed about it.

(y/n) stands behind him, giving both kids a kind look that said just be friendly. Megumi’s disinterested face turns into a slight pout, and Tsumiki’s smile is forced and awkward. Good enough, (y/n) thinks.

“So your Dad… I ki-”

Before Satoru could finish, (y/n’s) foot is colliding with his ankle, and he’s hissing in pain and making a face up at her like he had no idea what he’d done wrong.

“He knew your Dad, too,” (y/n) speaks for him, stepping in front of him as a silent way to tell him he was done introducing himself. “Anyways, we should get going now. You can talk more on the way, if you want”

“You can ask me anything!” Satoru tells them happily. “I’m the strongest sorcerer in the world!”

“Really?” Tsumiki asks with round eyes, and Satoru nods proudly.

Megumi rolls his eyes and scampers over to (y/n’s) other side, so he wouldn’t have to walk next to the weirdo with the white hair. He didn’t understand why they needed his help, because he seemed too annoying to actually provide them a service, but he kept his thoughts to himself. (y/n) wouldn’t have brought him along if he wasn’t important somehow, and he didn’t want to make (y/n) feel bad. And also, the sun wasn’t even out, what were the sunglasses for? To look cool? It wasn’t working.

However, Megumi is an eight year old that doesn’t know how to hold a poker face, so (y/n) was well aware of the boy’s irritation with Satoru. When he made a point to walk next to her and away from where Satoru and Tsumiki were engaged in a conversation about anime, she gave him a fond smile.

He blinks back at her, before furrowing his brows, not knowing why she was making that face.

“He’ll grow on you” She whispers to him, before giving him a discreet wink.

Megumi frowns, dropping his head to face forward as they walk. He doesn’t know how that could be true, especially when he’d just watched her interact with him and she seemed as equally frustrated as he was.

“I hope not” He mutters, and (y/n) laughs.

The rest of their trip is mostly light hearted. Tsumiki has an endless amount of questions, and Megumi warms up in the slightest when Gojo hands out the donuts he’d brought- although he still doesn’t leave (y/n’s) side.

In fact, when they finally reach the Zen’ins’ compound, he becomes glued to her. As soon as they cross the threshold and stand at the grand double-door gated entrance to their home, Megumi slides closer to (y/n) until he’s almost hugging her leg, although he keeps his hands firmly placed in the pocket of his sweatshirt.

“This’ll be easy peasy,” Satoru scoffs, and waves a dismissive hand. Both kids peek over at him unsurely, not sure what to believe about their fate. “I’ll go in and talk to ‘em. You guys can wait out here”

“I think I should go in, too,” (y/n) says softly, taking a step closer to him so that the kids didn’t have to hear her grave tone. “They’re going to have questions for me”

She didn’t feel the need to mention that if things went south and this was some sort of ambush, a cowardly ploy on behalf of the Zen’ins to make her pay for her alleged crimes against them, that she very much was prepared to challenge them. The sheath resting at the dip of her spine wasn’t concealing a blade without reason. It may not have been her beloved swords, but it was something that she wasn’t afraid to use. Promises to play nice and not act recklessly be damned.

“And if they’re decent then I’ll come get you,” Satoru drops his happy-go-lucky facade as he talks under his breath. “But for now I think you should stay with them,”

He nods his head down, and (y/n) glances down to see that like a shadow, Megumi had followed her every movement, and was still trapped at her side. Today, he seemed more like a kid than any other. Megumi always had a knack for walking and talking like he was older than he was. Now that the life he’d grown so accustomed to was at stake, he seemed to retreat into himself. (y/n) gives him a warm smile, before turning her attention back to Satoru. She looks unsure, undecided on what the right thing to do was.

“It’ll be fine,” He tells her with a nod of his head.

She barely nods back at him, chewing on the inside of her cheek to try and calm her nerves. If she appeared as nervous as she felt, then she would only make the kids uneasy, and they were already worried sick. Then again, so was she.

“I’ll try and be quick, alright?” Satoru tells her with as much certainty as he could manage.

“Alright,” She whispers back, and grabs onto his hand before she speaks again. She’s standing close enough that the sunglasses don’t hide his eyes as well, and she can see his seriousness behind them. “Thank you, Satoru”

His hand squeezes hers, his hold lingering a few moments longer than it should have, before he lets her go, and heads towards the house.

(y/n) bites too hard on her cheek, the awfully familiar metallic taste of blood pooling at her tongue. She winces as she watches Satoru enter the house, the doors shutting behind him.

Tsumiki and Megumi don’t say a word, but when their eyes meet they don’t have to speak to know they’ve both witnessed the same interaction that was much different than the one they’d seen before.

The blood in her mouth feels like poison as she looks down at them, and can see how hard they’re both trying to be brave. They’re holding back their tears, and their faces hold a hard expression. Still, if she watches for long enough, she can see the way the corner of Megumi’s mouth quivers with emotion.

All three of them stood frozen for a few minutes, their breaths baited, and any kind of words to be spoken between them were stuck in their throat, or lost. No one knew the right thing to say or do. There was no right thing to say or do. All they could do was wait.

The touch of small, cold fingers against (y/n’s) hand makes her shoot her eyes downwards, just as Megumi slips his hand against her palm. He gives her a small smile, and she hopes her eyes won’t start watering as she smiles back.

That’s when she feels a similar sensation on her other side, where she finds Tsumiki also holding her hand, squeezing it gently.

(y/n) holds both of their hands securely, communicating everything she couldn’t say in words to them at that moment. This is why Satoru had her stay behind, now she understood. They needed her, and this very well could be their last moments spent together. ___

It feels like hours when the doors finally open again, even though it’s barely been forty five minutes.

(y/n) feels every muscle in her body tense and go rigid as she waits for a figure to appear, her eyes unblinking as she tracks any kind of movement that could come from the inside of the house.

Her heart leaps into her throat, pounding so hard and choking her with her own breath, she thinks she might vomit, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the door.

Before she could try to be optimistic, she assumed the worst. That their plan failed. That despite his god-like stature within the jujutsu society, Gojo Satoru wasn’t enough to convince the Zen’ins to drop their pursuit of Fushiguro Megumi. Perhaps they were offended that he’d even approached them. Perhaps it was still a silly pissing contest of respect they were after, and it was never even about the kid or his manifestation of Ten Shadows.

Her hand slid around her hip before landing on the ridge under her shirt where her weapon sat, waiting. She didn’t make a move to unsheath it, but she kept her fingers firmly pressed against it, in the case that her last resort has now become Plan A, and she’d have to make a snap decision to brandish it.

Just as she’s ready to draw up a plan of attack, Satoru steps into view, and her breath finally escapes her in a shaky sigh. She doesn’t know yet if she should feel relieved, or if the weight on her shoulders would only grow heavier.

Behind Satoru follows another figure, one who (y/n) had only seen once before, but didn’t need a re-introduction to remember who he was. That mustache was unmistakable.

She looks down to the Fushiguro kids, grabbing their hands again and squeezing them gently.

“I don’t want to go” Megumi whispers out, fast, like he’s afraid of even admitting it. His eyes are wide and filling with tears faster by the second, and his small hand grips hers so tightly that he’s trembling.

He knows he’s not strong enough to keep her put, and he knows that she’s about to leave him. “You’re not going anywhere,” (y/n) whispers back, “I won’t let that happen,”

Her words are certain, too certain for not knowing what would come next, but she grants them one last lie to appease their troubled minds.

“Stay right here”

She gives them both a look to make sure they could see she was gravely serious. Then she lets them go, and moves with a quick step towards Satoru and the head of the Zen’in Clan.

Megumi takes a step as though to follow right behind her, but Tsumiki grabs his hand to stop him. When he looks at her, she shakes her head in a small motion, and moves her hand to grab onto his.

It wasn’t like Megumi to hold hands so much, but he squeezed his sister’s palm as he followed her silent command and stayed by her side.

His free hand raises to his chest, resting over the bump under his tee shirt. Small fingers wrap around the pendant of the cursed tool (y/n) had given him, clutching onto it just tightly enough that it wouldn’t burst. If he focused enough, he could almost feel it buzzing softly in his palm, warm vibrations bursting through the rock and into his skin. Was this cursed energy?

As she walks, (y/n) can feel every movement of her concealed harness against her skin. Every step she took it would ride up her waist, and then slide back down to her hip. It was a small movement, but the leather on her skin seemed to irritate her more the closer she grew. Irritation quickly grew into rage, and a desire of bloodlust once Zen’in Naobito was in closer view. That stupid mustache had her aching to draw her weapon.

But she’d made a promise that she wouldn’t draw first blood, and she’d grown tired of the liar she’d become in the past few months.

“So you’re the (y/l/n) (y/n) that I’ve had to hear so much about…”

Naobito’s voice piqued with interest, but his dull eyes held nothing but disdain as he looked at her. (y/n) remained silent, her eyes fleeting to Satoru for a brief moment before falling on the head of the Zen’in Clan again. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but she knew that like him, she couldn’t keep her emotions out of her eyes.

“You sure like to stir up a lot of trouble, don’t you? And over nothing but a kid… it’s almost pitiful, Miss (y/l/n)” Naobito continues. He arches a brow at her, as though giving her permission to speak.

Or perhaps he was instigating, hoping to make her slip up so that his retaliation was unquestionably justified. (y/n) makes a mental note of this, and keeps her hands firmly at her sides so there could be no confusion in her stance. She was here respectfully, and had no malicious intention.

She can’t help the way her lip curls into a snarl, but she keeps her voice steady. Almost eerily so.

“I found the kids that Sorcerer Killer Fushiguro Toji abandoned,” She states, reminding him of the title one of their own had notoriously earned.

This seems to make Naobito tick, as his eyes narrow in the slightest. Beside him, Satoru smirks. She takes this as a sign that she hadn’t crossed a boundary that she couldn’t still come back from.

“Kids, by the way,” She repeated herself. “He had two. Not just one”

Naobito hums in response. He turns to give Satoru a look, as though unamused by her behavior. Satoru’s smirk widens into a small grin as he looks down at him. “I told you, geezer, tch,” Satoru shrugs a shoulder as he tucks his hands into his pockets. Being the strongest, there was no boundary he couldn’t cross, so he disrespected Naobito with casual ease. He was practically invincible. “You’re the one that wanted to talk to her”

(y/n) watched their brief interaction with careful eyes, wishing she’d been in on the loop of what happened inside. It was starting to drive her mad, not knowing, but she kept up her relaxed, uncaring exterior.

“Yes, well, I suppose I had my curiosities…” Naobito muttered as he turned back to (y/n). He chuckles with amusement before he speaks again. “But, did you really think you could come to my home with a blade that small and overpower me?”

How did he..? (y/n’s) eyes widen, and she tries to read his body language to figure out if he was planning to strike. His mustache twitches as he smirks, and she realizes he was just trying to show off a little power.

Typical.

“You’re lucky she didn’t bring more, old man,” Satoru scoffs, his hand clapping onto the older man’s shoulder as he bends his knees to enter his personal space, in order to grin right in his face. “You’re welcome, by the way,” He says.

It’s the first time Naobito’s exterior cracks, his eyes widening as the Six Eyes user stays far too close for his liking, but when it comes to Gojo Satoru, he’s stripped of all power. He’s defenseless, vulnerable. (y/n) revels in the sight of such an egotistical man, so proud of what little power he had, being put in his place and shown what real power looked like. And Satoru had no problem showing off a little. It didn’t take much to remind a man like Zen’in Naobito who had the upper hand.

“Because I almost let her kill you,” Satoru speaks through his grin, but his voice is low and threatening. He lingers there for a moment longer before leaning back and letting out a bark of a laugh. “But no worries!” He cheers, his phony happy charade back on. “I figured you weren’t worth all the trouble. And it turns out ya aren’t, are ya, Zen’in?”

(y/n’s) eyes blink wide at the first hint of how their conversation had gone. Was Satoru successful? Heat coursed through her body as her heart began pumping faster with impatience. Was it resolved? Were the Fushiguro kids safe?

Naobito scoffs, crossing his arms and turning his head away from Satoru. This action had (y/n’s) optimism skyrocketing, and her hope overcame her.

“So you’ll leave us alone?” (y/n) asks, her eyes practically on fire as she stares down the head of the clan. “You’ll leave them alone?”

Naobito scowls back at her without a word.

“He sure will,” Satoru grins, walking away from the man and towards her now.

Her expression was frozen with surprise, but her heart was doing somersaults of joy in her chest.

“All these old geezers can just be bought,” Satoru smirks, before turning towards Naobito again. “Ain’t that right, old man?”

Naobito makes a noise of irritation before waving a dismissive hand, and completely turning around. (y/n) almost laughs. Some power he had, and now here he was, reduced to acting like a child that didn’t get his way.

“You got what you want, Gojo,” He spits out Satoru’s family name with more poison than anyone else would dare. “Now get off my property before I change my mind”

(y/n) blinks, her jaw dropping open as she stared at the Zen’in in shock, but Satoru’s slinging an arm around her shoulder and nearly making her trip over her feet as he pulls her back to where Megumi and Tsumiki are waiting.

“So- so they’re-” She stutters, her wide eyes staring up at him, awaiting his explanation on everything that transpired.

“We can talk about all the specifics later,” Satoru says with a small smile. “It’s all settled. The kids will be left alone”

Slowly, as if the words needed to process one by one in her mind, a smile began to creep across her lips.

“Really?” (y/n) gasped.

Satoru looked down at her, and despite the negotiation he’d worked out in his favor just minutes ago, he finally felt relief wash over him as he looked at her.

She was so happy, her smile was all teeth, her eyes were gleaming with joy, and he doesn’t even care about what this means for them or their future as sorcerers because she looks like that and she’s looking at him.

“Really” He murmurs back in quiet affirmation.

She just about launches herself into his arms, but just as she’s about to throw caution to the wind, two small figures are running towards her, closing the distance between them quickly. Too impatient to wait, they begin to holler.

“Well!?” Megumi’s eyes are wide as he pulls his sister along with him.

“Does he have to go!?” Tsumiki yells over him.

(y/n) glances back to Satoru, about to apologize for being interrupted, but he drops his arm from around her shoulder and nods his head towards the pair of brats who are still yelling their questions and concerns. She gives him a small smile, before turning away and running towards them both.

This makes both Megumi and Tsumiki stop in their tracks, their eyes blowing wide as they freeze up like deer in headlights. They don’t have a chance to brace themselves before (y/n’s) sliding onto the ground, the grass inevitably staining the pants of her uniform as she does so, but she doesn’t care.

Her arms are thrown around both of them, and they’re quick to return the gesture, hugging her, and each other, in an embrace that was tighter than they’ve ever experienced before.

(y/n) doesn’t give them the news they’d been waiting for, but she doesn’t have to. Not with words, anyways.

She’s laughing, boisterously so, her whole body vibrating with her joy. And soon, without reason beyond her own happiness seeping into them, Megumi and Tsumiki are laughing too.

Small hands clutch tightly at her arms and on the back of her shirt as all three of them giggle together, and maybe a few tears fall from their eyes as they do, but no one cares.

Everything was okay.

They were all safe.

When they part from one another, they remain seated on the ground for a few minutes longer. (y/n) doesn’t mind her own tears of joy falling down her cheeks as she reaches out to wipe their tears away.

Satoru watches as both kids smile wider at her than he’s ever seen in his life. He didn’t even think the boy was capable of smiling, but here he was, smiling and crying over this girl. He stands back a ways, enough to give them their moment of celebration, but he can see clearly that they’re equally relieved to not be taken from one another.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry,” (y/n) coos as she continues to wipe away their tears. “It’s alright, everything’s alright, no one is going anywhere”

She’s stammering out her words a bit, and Satoru almost chuckles at how her delight overcomes her. It looks good on her, her happiness.

“You’re crying” Tsumiki says, mirroring (y/n’s) action and bringing her small hands to her face, hastily clearing away the wetness.

“It wouldn’t be the first time you shitheads made me cry,” (y/n) teases, but the mirth in her eyes tells them that she doesn’t regret a thing. Megumi and Tsumiki laugh, easily humored by her foul language. “Come on, let’s get the hell out of here, yeah?”

They nod back at her excitedly, and when she gets up, they stand at either side of her so they can both hold her hand.

(y/n) looks back at Satoru, her eyes still misty but her smile rivaling the sun’s brightness. He smiles back at her as he walks over to join them again.

“This means we get to go home, right?” Megumi asks hopefully.

Satoru sucks in a sharp breath before his lips curl into a small smirk. All three looked at him, puzzled at what the hesitation was.

“Well, about that…” ___

(y/n) stares up at the building that Satoru had brought them to, her eyes wide and her mouth dropped open. She’d been frozen like that for a minute now, while Satoru grins madly, and the Fushiguro kids wait for further explanation about where they are right now.

“When the fuck did you-”

“Woah! Language!” Satoru scolds her. “And you know me. I pull strings”

“What is this?” Megumi asked, waiting for (y/n’s) response, but she was still gaping at the building.

“Come on,” Satoru nods for the group to follow him inside. “I’ll show you!”

The lobby is nice without being so fancy it was overwhelming and awkward. It’s clean with sharp black tiling, and a few pieces of furniture for lounging against the wall. The clerk at the desk welcomed Satoru by name, and (y/n’s) shocked expression followed the whole interaction.

The Fushiguro kids followed close by her side as they gathered in an elevator. Satoru pushed the number four, and the doors slid shut. He takes a moment to give (y/n) a shit eating grin. She only furrowed her brows and tilted her head at him, at a loss for words.

Did he really..?

With a soft ding The elevator doors slid back open, and Satoru beckoned them to follow as he led them down a hallway, pausing shortly.

“Here we are,” He dug through his pocket, before displaying a key to them. His grin only worsened as he unlocked the door and gestured for everyone to enter.

Megumi and Tsumiki looked up at (y/n), as though awaiting her permission. She chuckled and nodded her head for them to go on in. That was all the more they needed before they were racing inside, gasping and aweing at the perfectly clean and new apartment. In seconds they were out of sight, exploring the new space.

“After you” Satoru said to (y/n), who was still stuck in the doorway. She looked over to him, her lips parted and her eyes round as it was confirmed before her.

“When did you..?” The rest of her question fails her, and she shakes her head at him in an attempt to communicate her total state of confusion.

They’d stayed up through most of the night together, planning for their meeting with the Zen’ins. There couldn’t have possibly been time for Satoru to go through the trouble of renting an apartment. On such short notice? With the hassle of paperwork and a down payment and everything? The process would normally take days, maybe even weeks, but somehow, overnight, he’d managed to secure an empty apartment that was closer to Jujutsu Tech than the Fushiguro house? (y/n) wouldn’t believe it if she wasn’t standing in front of it right now.

“Don’t you want to go inside?” Satoru asked, drawing her out of her thoughts.

She couldn’t even find it in herself to answer before she was nodding her head at him, and stepping inside.

Her eyes trace every inch of the living room, the first room you walk into when you enter. The first thing she notices is that it’s a large apartment, and the second thing is that the living room is filled with all new furniture. A wrap-around couch, a recliner, a woven rug with a coffee table on top of it to smooth out it’s roll. It all looked brand new and expensive. No doubt Satoru’s touch.

Her eyes blink rapidly as she takes it all in, before turning back to Satoru who was waiting at the closed door, enjoying himself while watching her react to it all.

“I- I don’t even know what to say-”

“It’s awesome!” A delighted squeal rings out, followed by racing footsteps, and out of a hallway comes Tsumiki, who runs straight through the living room and into the kitchen.

“Is this our new house!?” Megumi comes running after her, and (y/n) realizes quickly that they’re playing tag.

“It is!” Satoru chirps, only furthering the noisy children’s antics as they sprint back down the hallway they’d just come from.

“Careful!” (y/n) hollers after them, almost as a second thought, as she was preoccupied by processing all of this.

Once the kids were distracted by their game again, she went right back to Satoru, staring at him incredulously, still not believing he’d done all of this. Before she can spew out all of her questions, he begins answering them.

“It has four bedrooms,” He says, as if that was going to be her first line of questioning. “It’s way closer to campus. It's in a safer neighborhood and still in their school district. We can worry about moving their things tomorrow” He continued. “Rent is paid for the next…” He pretends to think about it, running a hand through his hair. “Ten? Twelve years? I can’t remember exactly”

(y/n) blinks owlishly, and Satoru almost doesn’t notice the way she’s staring at him as he continues on with his introduction of the place.

“Got it set up with the landlord last night after you fell asleep on the floor,” He chuckles at the image from the night before. “And I was actually late today because I wanted to pick up the keys”

He stops when his eyes fall back to hers, unsure of what to make of her expression. She wore little to no emotion, besides her wide eyes and parted lips. When he stopped speaking, she found her voice.

“Why did you do all of this?”

It comes out in a whisper, but he’s close enough to her that he hears just fine.

“Why? Well we’re graduating soon, you’ll need somewhere to stay with them, and it cannot be in that terrible neighborhood. No wonder you were gone all the time that place was-”

This time he cuts himself off as she steps closer to him, almost toe to toe. She’s so close that she has to tilt her head back to look up at him properly, and for once Satoru freezes up.

“I didn’t get to say it earlier but I guess you’re even more deserving now,” She says with a bashful smile. “But… thank you”

He nods back at her, the motion shaky as his eyes don’t leave hers. Even hidden behind his sunglasses they’re blown wide from how close she is.

“Yeah- yeah of course,” He replies. “One condition though?”

She hums curiously in response, her eyes flickering over his features.

“No more secrets, alright?” He asks, and she laughs quietly, nodding her head in agreement.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Gojo Satoru” She says, reaching her hand out to shake on it.

Satoru scoffs, grabbing her hand and pulling her into him, wrapping his arms around her waist with ease. She’d fight him off playfully normally, but today she throws her arms around his neck and hugs him back just as enthusiastically.

Just when she thinks she should step away, she holds on a little tighter. Maybe it’s the smell of warm sugar and pine infecting her senses, or maybe it was the peculiar feeling of her heart skipping a beat, but she held onto him just a little longer than she should have. She thinks she’s needed this for a while, a long while, even.

He doesn’t seem to mind anyways, as he ducks his head down to the crook of her neck and doesn’t loosen his hold on her in the slightest.

“I didn’t deserve this,” She mumbles against the collar of his shirt, closing her eyes as she tries to hold on to the last few seconds of this moment. “You should be upset with me, but… you fixed all of it, for me”

Reluctantly, Satoru pulls away, giving her a signature smile before chuckling.

“Well, ‘course I did, sweetheart” He says through his laugh.

(y/n) doesn’t say anything, but as she looks at him, she hopes he tells her more. Or at least tell her why he’d do all of this, because he hadn’t owed her a thing, and here he was practically giving her the world. Her eyes flicker between his, trying to find some sort of explanation, even hidden behind his shades.

“Satoru…”

She doesn’t get the chance to finish her thought, as two pairs of feet are running towards her again.

Despite the racket they’d been making all this time, she’d almost tuned it out, she realized as she turned to see Megumi and Tsumiki giggling as they made grabby hands at her.

“(y/n)! Come on! We picked out our rooms!” Tsumiki says, grabbing her wrist and forcefully yanking her away from Satoru.

A strangled laugh escapes her as she stumbles over her feet to follow behind her, but she still manages to cast a glance back towards Satoru, who was amused by the sight and waved her off to go spend time with them. ___

After a few hours of detailed guided tours and playing, Megumi and Tsumiki had finally settled down in the new bed that was in the room Megumi claimed for himself. Tsumiki had a new bed in her new room too, but the siblings had decided to have a sleepover, so they were gathered up under fresh covers together while (y/n) bid them goodnight.

“Can we stay here forever?” Tsumiki asked softly, pulling her fluffy purple blanket to her chin.

Perched on the side of the bed as she tucked them in, (y/n) smiled and nodded.

“As long as you wish,” She hums. “You can paint your rooms whatever color you want, and we’ll get your things tomorrow” She tells them.

“And you’re staying here too?” Megumi asks, pulling his own blanket up to his nose to hide his warm face. (y/n) laughed and nodded again.

“I sure am, so you’re gonna have to be on your best behavior all the time,” She teases, poking his nose before pulling his blanket away from his face. “I’m your legal guardian now, which means I can punish you” She sing-songs playfully as she tickles him, much to his dismay. “But tonight I need to go back to my school. I’ll put up a curtain of protection like I always do, and soon I’ll be staying here every night”

“And Gojo will be staying too?” Tsumiki asks.

(y/n) makes a funny face as she chuckles at that, her lips pulled into an awkward half-smile while her brows furrowed.

“Uh- I don’t know about that,” She chuckles. “What makes you think that?”

“There’s an extra room”

“The other room”

Megumi and Tsumiki speak over each other, and (y/n) blinks in surprise, since both of them assumed the same.

“I don’t think so,” She chuckles, shaking her head. “It’s just an extra room” She tries to dismiss it, but neither of them look convinced.

“You guys were standing really close earlier” Megumi mutters, and before (y/n) could be shocked by his observation, Tsumiki is voicing her own opinion.

“He’s very handsome! And he stares at you a lot!”

(y/n’s) jaw is on the floor as she looks between the two children that were far too observant for their age. Since when were they so nosey?

Well, she could recall a few times now that they’d accused her of having a boyfriend, but this was on another level!

“You’re seeing things that aren’t there,” She says, trying to laugh it off, but her face is hot suddenly and she can’t think of a better excuse to give them. “Time for bed”

“So you’re not going to get married and be our parents?” Megumi asks before letting out a big yawn.

“Time for bed” (y/n) repeats, firmly tucking the blanket around his shoulders.

Tsumiki is giggling and Megumi is pouting when she finally leaves them be, flicking off their lights and shutting the door behind her. Once it’s clicked shut, she leans against it and lets out a deep sigh.

“They’ve got active imaginations”

Yelping in surprise, her first instinct is to smack Satoru on his arm, and he’s lucky it wasn’t his face. He seems unbothered by this reaction. In fact, he laughs.

“When are you going to stop sneaking up on me?” She hisses, not wanting to draw the Fushiguro kids’ attention to the hallway.

Satoru follows her as she hastily makes her way to the living room. It’s late enough now that the sun no longer brightens the room, leaving it dimly lit by the light in the hallway.

“You know, if you did ask me to move in, I’d say yes” Satoru’s the first to speak, and (y/n) is spun around by her heel as soon as he does.

His tone is genuine, but he’s still grinning like he’s trying to tease her, so she’s not sure what to make of the comment. Of course, he technically owned the place, so it wouldn’t feel right to argue that he couldn't stay, but then there was the matter of what the kids would think and-

Oh, that cheeky bastard.

“Eavesdropping again?” (y/n) crosses her arms as she tilts her head at him, and Satoru only purses his lips, not even bothering to defend himself. “And here I thought you learned your lesson”

“Me?” He laughs loudly, enough that she makes a face before throwing her arm in a gesture to the hallway.

“It’s late, could you keep it down?” She scolds him again.

“You’re a strict mom, sheesh,” Satoru mutters, and she rolls her eyes at him, but she can’t hide the small smile of pride that creeps up on her lips. “So, you like it all, then?”

Her smile softens as she nods her head back at him.

“It’s wonderful,” She tells him honestly. “I think they’re going to be very happy here”

“Good, good…”

He almost looks awkward, standing before her in the dark room. He’s fiddling with his sunglasses in his hands, the wisps of his hair tickling his eyelashes, and he’s nervous to look at her for too long, but he does anyway.

“And you?” He asks.

The question hangs in the air between them for a moment, as (y/n) assumes it’s obvious that she’s elated with how everything turned out, with how he seemed to snap his fingers and fix it all overnight. He must know that she owes him a debt which she’ll never be able to repay, right? He must know exactly how she feels, because she hasn’t done a thing to conceal it.

But he’s waiting for an answer, she can see it in the way he stops playing with the frames of his sunglasses, how his eyes are focused on her and he doesn’t say a thing until she responds.

Something about the way he seems to nervously await her response makes her soften for him. For the first time in a long time it’s as though her whole body completely relaxes, like she’s able to turn on autopilot again, and let her guard down properly. Her heart beats a little irregularly which is strange but the way it makes her cheeks buzz with the tingling warmth of a blush feels good.

With quick, quiet steps on the tips of her toes she crosses the room to where he’s standing. She’s close enough to him now that the lighting behind him catches on her eyes, seemingly making them glimmer with her fondness.

She stays on the tips of her toes as she leans into him, filling his senses with the sweet smell of her shampoo and something else that he couldn’t name, but was completely unique to her. Just as he’s getting lost in the scent, her lips are planted on his cheek, soft, and much too fleeting.

There’s a shy smile and a flush of color on her face when she drops back to the pads of her feet.

“Honestly, I think this is the happiest I’ve felt in a long time,” She admits quietly, and Satoru has to put effort into focusing on her while she speaks, because his head is in the clouds and he thinks he might float off into them. “I mean… with everything that’s happened these last few months I just… leaving it all behind as long as they were safe didn’t seem so bad. I’d lost enough friends and I…” Her fingers catch on one another as she nervously fiddles. “It doesn’t matter now. But, I hope you know how much this all means to me. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to pay you back”

His face is still stunned from the feeling of her lips on his cheek, but he manages the smallest of smiles at her honesty.

“I don’t need you to pay me back,�� He says with a shake of his head. “I just…”

He loses his train of thought as he stares at her, which was an effect she’d always had on him, although tonight it seemed far more potent. Perhaps it was the low orange lighting, softening her pretty features. Or it was how she’d so blatantly kissed him and didn’t think it was out of character to do so. These were probably both true, but he could probably admit now that the shortness of his breath and the swell of his heart were caused by a distinct, paralyzing feeling that he’d always held for her, and only seemed to grow stronger.

In a small movement of curiosity, her head tilts to the side, awaiting the rest of his thought. Admittedly, his staring was starting to make her feel self conscious, but she doesn’t shy away. Instead she keeps her patience and wonders what it is that’s stuck on his tongue.

Satoru’s eyes flicker between hers in a moment of indecisiveness. He knew what he wanted to tell her, because it had been on his mind for months now, maybe even years, and now here she was, standing there, looking like that, and giving him her full attention.

Gojo Satoru chokes.

“I just want you to be happy”

He finally speaks, and (y/n) noticeably brightens before him. Her wide smile makes the corners of her eyes crinkle, and a breathless laugh escapes her lungs.

They linger for a quiet moment, and despite the silence, they’re perfectly comfortable. ___

After locking up and drawing a curtain, Satoru takes her hand and warps them both back to Jujutsu Tech. Together, they sit down with Shoko and explain everything. She’s understandably upset for not being told sooner, but more than anything was happy to know that (y/n) was safe now, and the hiding and lying was over. The three sit on the floor of the common room, Satoru and (y/n) answering all of Shoko’s questions while the girls share a cigarette, and even though it was so late that it was almost morning, none of them grew tired the later their night stretches.

They were too wrapped up in their moment they finally deserved. With friendly but teasing banter, jokes, laughter, reminiscing, and of course a smoke or two. It was just like it used to be, domestic, relaxed. They hadn’t realized this feeling had gradually disappeared from their lives until this moment, hadn’t known they’d been longing for it to return like this.

When Shoko declares she has to go to bed for at least an hour of sleep before a shift at the morgue, (y/n) stands to hug her goodnight, and they stay wrapped in each other’s embrace for some time.

“If you ever lie to me again, I’ll kill you” Shoko mumbles, before pressing her face into the crook between (y/n’s) neck and shoulder.

In return, (y/n) squeezes her even tighter.

With Shoko’s retreat to bed, (y/n) claims that she too needed to get some sleep, and Satoru makes a half-assed joke about how she clearly needs it. The pair walk together back to their dorms, growing more comfortable in their silence the more they find themselves in it. Their steps are slow, and only seem to drag slower the closer they get, but neither of them comment on it.

Instead, when they finally do reach (y/n’s) dorm, just as the sun starts to peek over the horizon and sneak through the windows of the corridor, they still linger in front of her door.

Even after the hours of talking, of going over everything and catching up with one another, there still seemed to be so much unsaid. Still, with the opportunity presented to her, (y/n) remained silent, her hands latched together behind her back as she hoped that Satoru would say it first.

“Try to catch up on some sleep,” He is the first to speak, but it does nothing to ease the growing weight of an indescribable tension in her chest. “We can go tomorrow afternoon to move whatever Tsumiki and Megumi want into the apartment”

“You don’t have to help with that,” She tells him with a shrug. “It won’t be much, and I don’t mind. Not like it’s your responsibility”

He laughs, his smile stretching across his face as he does.

“You don’t get it at all, do you?”

The question is cryptic, but (y/n) bites back a smile as she reads right through the lines. She tilts her chin up challengingly as her hidden smile begins to tug at the corners of her lips. It was rare that she felt like she was one step ahead of him, and she just had to enjoy this opportunity for as long as she could.

“What don’t I get?” She asks, feigning confusion as she stares up at him.

Satoru’s eyes flicker between hers a few times, trying to get a proper read on her, but it’s hard when she’s smiling at him like that, with her undivided attention.

“Have dinner with me tomorrow,” He says, and for a moment, her playful little smile falters, replaced with surprise at the sudden request. “Once we’re done with all the moving stuff”

She blinks at him, a ghost of a smile still on her lips.

“I mean, I was probably going to make dinner for-”

“We’ll get them McDonalds” Satoru shrugs.

(y/n) raises a brow at his quick response, and her heart leaps in her chest at his sudden change in attitude. Was he asking her out? She wasn’t sure if he really was or if he was just being a flirt and this was just like all the other times they’d spent time together one on one.

“Well…” She licks her lips before speaking slowly. “Why wouldn’t we just get McDonalds with them?”

She crosses her arms loosely, an attempt to keep her hands occupied so she doesn’t start nervously fidgeting, but it’s also a defense mechanism.

“I’m not taking you to McDonalds,” Satoru shakes his head, his expression unwavering in its seriousness. “I’m taking you somewhere better than that”

“Better?” (y/n) muses curiously.

“Yeah,” He shrugs one of his shoulders. “Somewhere nice” He says decidedly.

“Nice?”

The corner of her lip betrays her as it begins to curl into a smile, and he notices how she tries to fight it. His confidence skyrockets as he grins, and nods his head back at her.

“Yep,” He answers, popping his lips dramatically. “So it’s a date”

(y/n’s) relaxed facade crumbles in an instant, her eyes rounding and her jaw dropping before she could pull herself together and keep up with the smooth act.

“A date?”

“Are you going to keep copying me?” Satoru chuckles, but he drops the subject too quickly for her liking. “It’ll be fun. We both deserve to have some fun, right?” He asks her, and she can only manage to awkwardly nod her head from side to side in agreement. “Great. I’ll see you tomorrow then”

“Okay” Is all the more (y/n’s) able to come up with, and Satoru smiles to himself, proud of his own work.

“Goodnight sweetheart” He gives a small wave as he spins on his heel to head to his own dorm.

“Goodnight” She calls to him.

Although the sun’s rays are peeking through her curtains, when (y/n’s) head hits her pillow, she drifts right off into a peaceful sleep. It’s the best night of sleep she’s had in a long while. Her dreams are filled with peaceful, colorful images. She wakes feeling well rested, and ready for whatever her coming days will have in store for her.

Soon she would graduate, along with her two best friends, and the world would be all theirs to navigate and experience. She wasn’t sure how difficult it would be to raise Tsumiki and Megumi full time, but she was eager to learn. Similarly, she wasn’t sure where this odd, warm feeling with Satoru would take her, but she was equally curious to explore it.

Despite all the heartache that this year had brought her, she felt content with where she was now. Her view on what was to come is optimistic. Her heart is full. And the people she loved were safe.

___

fin.

taglist: @whats-humanity-lol @malinq-ashida @mor-pheus@bekahtaylorgriggs@pookiea@megumimind@thealchemical@pearlstiare@niallerhere@96jnie @purpleguk @peqch-pie@yukinemaroop@makis-girl@sadtoru @kamikokii @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @googlesheetshoe @vzleria @hilzup @cole-silas @iam-mia9 @stxrrielle @ezrahour @whatamidoing89 @idioseasworld @yuuuumii @l0diluvs @miffysoo @chibiizzy

xoxo ~ jordie

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru imagine #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru fanfiction #satoru gojo fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction

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thecuriousquest · 3 months

Note

Hi! Can I request a scenario where the reader tries to run away while she is pregnant, and gets caught by Levi? How would he punish her, considering she is pregnant?

Pregnancy and Punishment

Yan!Levi x Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes, SFW, pregnancy, unhealthy relationship, unwilling Reader, unsuccessful escape attempt, isolation punishment

Master List

Ask Box I’d temporarily closed. Thank you for your patience.

—————————————————————————

“You weren’t thinking rationally, not that you ever do,” Levi says as he leads you back into the house by your wrist.

Closing the door behind you, he rubs his temples as he decides what to do with you.

You’re six months along in your pregnancy, and honestly, Levi can’t believe you actually attempted to escape in your condition. Even more so, he really can’t believe how far you managed to get on foot.

Too afraid to use physical violence, afraid to even give you a light smack on the ass or a quick pop on the cheek, he takes you up to the room you both share. He helps you lie down, putting your feet up on a pillow. He sits down on the edge of the bed and looks at you.

“You know you’ll be in here for the remainder of your pregnancy? I don’t care if you were feeling hormonal, and I really don’t give a shit about any other excuse you could come up with.”

Tears burn your eyes at his harsh words and your failed escape attempt.

“Don’t give me that look. I’m not the fucking monster. You were trying to abandon me, take my child from me. I’m not going to lose the love of my life after I’ve lost so much already. Is that understood?”

He grabs your jaw, squeezing your cheeks to the point where your lips puff out in a little pout.

“Answer me.”

The dam bursts, and your tears flow rapidly as your shoulders shake. “Yes! I understand!”

Levi’s expression softens marginally, but he stands firm in his decision to restrict you. He lets go of your face and grabs your hand.

“I’m only doing what’s best for you. This is the best option. You don’t need to go anywhere with how dangerous it is out there. Titans, people, it’s all chaos. I won’t let you get swept up in it.”

“Okay, Levi…” You can’t help but look at your baby bump, rubbing it slightly as you continue to cry.

The captain places a lingering kiss on your cheek before leaving a chaste kiss on your swollen belly.

He doesn’t chain you up this time, fearing that the stress might be too great for you. He wants you to be able to walk around, to look out the window, the window that never opens no matter how hard you try. Levi knows that you won’t be able to open the door which locks from the outside, so he doesn’t see a problem with leaving you to your own devices in the room.

Levi loves you so much. He really wants you to know this even if he has a hard time showing it. Discipline is necessary, and you won’t escape punishment just because you’re pregnant. You’ll never be able to escape anything once Levi sets his mind to it.

#yandere #triggering content #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #triggering themes #yandere x darling #yandere themes #yandere attack on titan #attack on titan requests #yandere levi ackerman x reader #yandere levi #yandere levi x reader #yandere levi ackerman #captain levi

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kaicubus · 1 year

Text

More Wayne McCullough NSFW Headcanons

warnings ✩° : nsfw, smut, mentions of being hurt, submissive!wayne, mentions of fighting scars, sexual things idk.

pairing ✩° : wayne mccullough x fem!reader

authors note ✩° : thank you guys for being patient and stuff, i need to get back on the grind...

- I’m not going to lie. Wayne is the type to whimper. Definitely not all the time, so when he does, it’s like a sweet little treat for you. But in certain situations, he’ll let out a soft whine or groan that lets you know just how much he’s into what you're doing to him. Wayne loves it too much to the point he can’t help what he says accidentally or absentmindedly.

- He goes completely crazy when he can’t touch you, so you tie him up sometimes or tell him straight out that he can’t, just to get the needy stares that you’ll inevitably get when you do so.

- Pull. On. That. Damn. Hair. He likes it just as much as you do.

- He does this thing where if you initiate a kiss, he’s a little surprised but sort of melts into it, but when you try and pull away he just steps forward so you don’t break the kiss too soon. It’s specific, but you two always get turned on when it happens.

- Given the fact you guys are constantly on the run or hiding, having sex and intimate moments aren't readily done most of the time. That being said, the chance you guys get when you're alone is usually very very fast and messy. It doesn’t really matter the place or time, as long as you two know you're alone, it’s enough. You try not to be loud, but can you really help it?

- Doing it in empty bathtubs at a friends house, abandoned sheds, behind walls in alley ways, Wayne isn't afraid to just fuck you wherever. He’ll grab you by your hips and fuck you against a wall if he has to, or better yet hide you two under a scrap piece of metal for privacy. (Yes, it’s gotten that bad before). You on the other hand are a bit more hesitant, but it’s only because you don’t want anyone else to see you or him in that position—or any for that matter.

- Unfortunately, when you guys manage to sneak in a quick fuck, sometimes people have walked in and ruined it. In the moment, it’s mortifying, but afterwards you and Wayne laugh about it. Sometimes, he brings moments like that up to cheer you up if you're mad at him or just feeling a bit miserable.

“Hey. Remember that one time, when we were doing it in that family restroom and you forgot to lock the door?”

“I try to forget.”

“You remember what that lady’s face looked like? Holding that baby? She almost dropped it.”

“How can you say all this with a straight face?!”

- Wayne really likes having you on his lap, either having his fingers inside you or on you, or his dick inside you, and just looking really uninterested so no one suspects anything. But in reality, he’s super into it and moves your hips back and forth, maybe even kissing your neck or shoulder to show it. For extra safety though, he keeps his jacket or flannel plastered on your lap.

- He’s a bit strong, so sometimes he goes a bit overboard. That means sometimes he goes a bit too fast or bites you too hard or overstimulates you—but it’s by total accident.

- If you're riding on top of him, that’s the closest to heaven that Wayne will ever get to. It’s such a sight to see, not only your body but the way you move on top of him is just pure ecstasy. He loves it so much, he’s not afraid to lean his head back and open his mouth, flaunting his adam’s apple with his mouth agape.

- He can’t tell when the appropriate time it is to say those three words, even when he’s said them a million times before. So sometimes, even when you're giving him the sloppy toppy, he looks at you with pure love and just lets it slip out, “I love you.” and it honestly catches you off guard 9/10.

- Wayne won’t admit it, but when you touch over his scars on his chest, thighs, or face, it never fails to turn him on or get him riled up. He doesn’t know why, but neither of you complain.

#wayne #wayne series #wayne mccullough #wayne x reader #wayne headcanons #wayne mccullough x reader #wayne mccullough imagine #wayne mccullough x y/n #wayne mcullough smut #smut #smut headcanons #fem!reader #headcanons #kaicubus

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ilguna · 8 months

Note

Could I please get #1 from the 2nd list with finnick? Maybe it could be him leaving his SO in 13 while he goes to the capitol but this time he lives?

☼ broken promise (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, death, death mention, ehh gore, gun use.

wc; 2.6k

prompt; 1. "Just close your eyes. I will be here when you open them again."

—

A scream lodges in your throat, waking you, rocketing you into an upright position so that you can breathe. With one hand, you grab your throat, gasping for the air that’s been deprived of you, heart beating wildly in your chest. The other is reaching out to his side of the bed to make sure that he’s still there, that he hasn’t left you like the nightmare led you to believe.

Your fingers come into contact with his thigh, you slide your hand over his skin, fingers slowly digging in. You close your eyes, and try to remind yourself that it wasn’t real, and Finnick’s not going to slip through your fingers. He’s here, he’s right next to you.

“(Y/n)?”

You look over at Finnick, finding his eyes on you. His head is turned over his shoulder, one eye closed and the other one barely open to keep himself awake. You loosen your grip on his leg, most likely the cause of his wake.

“Sorry, Finn.” You murmur.

“What’s the matter?” He mumbles, beginning to roll over to face you.

“I’m fine.” You brush his hair out of his face. It’s getting long, he hasn’t cut it since the reaping.

“You’re not.” He says, voice raspy but sounding more awake. He grabs your arm, tugging at it slightly. “Come here.”

“It was just a nightmare, Finnick.” You tell him.

“I don’t care.” He says, pulling again.

You sigh, but scoot down in the bed, anyway. Finnick lifts the blanket up, arms out to make it easier for you to lay in them. He’s got his eyes closed, waiting for you. As soon as you’re as close as humanly possible, he drops the blanket and pulls you closer, chin on top of your head.

He’s warm, the exhaustion returns to your body slowly. It’s one of the curses of sleeping in the same bed as him. There will be times where he’s tired and needs a nap, but you’re fully rested. He’ll force you to cuddle him, and the next thing you know, the whole day has been wasted away because his body heat has made you drowsy.

However, this time, it’s different. It doesn’t take long for you to get to the brink of sleep, yet you never fall over the edge fully. Each time Finnick adjusts, you’re jolted awake. There’s something keeping you from reaching bliss, and you know exactly what it is.

How are you supposed to sleep when you’re afraid that Finnick’s going to join that stupid Capitol mission? You heard him talking about it with Haymitch a few days ago, and when you asked about it, Finnick told you that it was nothing to worry about. Except, you’re not that stupid.

You might have been caught up in your own problems here in District Thirteen, but that doesn’t mean you hadn’t noticed his schedule changed a couple weeks ago. He’s not where he’s supposed to be during the day. You did a little prying, some sneaking around, collected the clues and had it put together by his own best friend.

Johanna admitted to you that they had been training the entire time. They found out about a rebel mission to storm the Capitol and seize President Snow’s mansion. It turns out that Finnick isn’t the only one that has been getting ready for this. Katniss, Johanna and Gale have been, too.

Only, Johanna can’t go because she failed the final test. Finnick passed.

You didn’t know how to react to the information she told you, besides standing there and staring into her eyes. She knows how much Finnick means to you—what the two of you have been through to get to this point. She didn’t think, throughout all these weeks, that it might’ve been smart to give you a head’s up that your fiance would be leaving on a suicide mission?

Is he ever going to tell you, himself?

Johanna knew you were mad, and she didn’t have any defense. She simply told you that she had advised Finnick to let you in on it, but the conversation never went on any further than that. Since then, you’ve been waiting for him to tell you. Especially since the hovercraft should be leaving any day now.

“You’re not sleeping.” Finnick suddenly mutters, you jerk slightly at the sound of his voice. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it, my love?”

You press your lips together. “Promise me you’re not going to leave me, Finnick.”

“What makes you think that I’d leave you?” He asks, pulling you closer into his body. “I would never want that.”

“That’s not what I mean.” You whisper. “I want you to promise that you’re not going to leave this bunker to go on that mission, Finnick. And then I want you to keep it.”

“I promise I’m not going to go on the mission.” He says without hesitating. You can feel his fingers combing through your hair. “Just close your eyes, baby. I will be here when you open them again.”

The heavy feeling in your chest keeps you from believing him.

–

You cross your arms over your chest, teeth tightly grit together to keep from saying anything that might get you in trouble. Although, no words need to be said. The hard glare you’re giving Haymitch speaks a thousand words.

“Oh, (Y/n), what a pleasure.” Plutarch says, coming through an adjacent door. Behind him is President Coin, hair neatly straightened, eyes landing on you when Plutarch moves out of the way. “How are you?”

You give him a sarcastic smile. “The pleasure is all mine, Plutarch, really. It’s always fantastic to be around you. You simply have the best and most charming personality in this entire cement coffin, you know that?”

“(Y/n).” Haymitch warns.

“And I’m doing great, actually. I would be doing better if someone explained to me why the hell my fiance was allowed to get on a hovercraft to District Two.”

“I don’t believe you have clearance to be in here.” Coin says, coming down the steps.

“I should.” You tell her. “I don’t see a reason why you’d want to keep me out of here. Oh right, how else would you then go behind my back after everything I’ve done for you?”

“Who let you in this room?” Coin asks.

“I did.” Haymitch says. “She’s got a point. Why was Finnick allowed to train and she wasn’t?”

“That’s because Katniss and Johanna found out about the program we have, and then told Finnick about it. We didn’t have anything to do with him joining.” Coin stops a few feet away from you. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Miss (L/n).”

“And it didn’t occur to you once to let me in on something like that?” You ask her, not moving from where your feet are planted.

“If it helps any, Peeta wasn’t allowed to, either.” Plutarch says.

You press your lips together into an angry smile. “No, that doesn’t help.”

“We can’t do anything for you.” Coin has her hand outstretched toward the door.

Your jaw goes slack. “Is that right?” She doesn’t say anything. “Get Finnick Odair on the next hovercraft back here, now.”

“That’s not possible, (Y/n), and there’s no need to.” Plutarch tells you. “Finnick is part of a group called the Star Squad. They’ve already traveled to the main camp outside of the Capitol, it’ll take a full day for him to get back to District Two. Their jobs aren’t to fight, though, they’ll be traveling behind the main rebel lines. They won’t be put into any direct danger.”

“You better hope not.” You tell Plutarch. “If anything happens to him, I’ll make sure it haunts you for the rest of your fucking life.”

—

“Let me see!” You shout, slamming through the Command room’s doors. “I want to see it for myself!”

Several heads swivel in your direction, daring to remove their eyes from the screen in front of them to see who’s intruding. When they’re met with you, they look away, uninterested.

No one makes a move to escort you out of the room, despite the fact that Coin made it very clear that you weren’t going to be allowed into Command ever again. The doors swing shut behind you, locking you inside.

You drag your feet forward a couple of steps, watching a replay of what’s just taken place in the Capitol. It’s a video of the Star Squad, the group that you were told wouldn’t be put into any danger. There’s a voiceover from the Capitol, explaining to you what’s happening.

They had been trying to film a propo, when they set off a bomb in the middle of the colorful apartment’s courtyard. It blows off the squad leader’s legs, and you watch as they all scramble to regroup, and descend into chaos when black gel shoots from the street.

They make a run for it, trying to get into an apartment before the oil gets to them. A previously level-headed Peeta turns rabid, trying to kill Katniss. One of the trained squad members tries to save her, and in return, he gets kicked into another pod, where barbed wire strings him up above the street.

From there, it takes two people to get a hold of Peeta, where they drag him inside. You catch sight of Finnick, carrying someone over his shoulder, alive. Then, everyone else files in, except for Gale, who tries to shoot the soldier down from the wire. This is the last glimpse you get of the situation, before the camera goes black.

The Capitol reporter is able to identify Gale, Finnick, Peeta, Cressida, Katniss and a man named Boggs, by first name.

You watch in horror as the next clip begins to play. Peacekeepers line up on the roof of the building across from the one the squad ran into. Bombs are launched into the row of apartments, setting off a chain of explosions, and then the building collapses in on itself.

You can feel your heart drop.

It cuts away to a reporter, standing on the same roof the Peacekeepers were. Behind her, the apartment building is aflame. The firefighters work hard to control the flames. The reporter pronounces each person that was inside of that building, dead.

“Oh my god.” You breathe, hand clutching at your chest, beginning to hyperventilate.

They play this scene over and over, proud of their victory. The only time they stop is when a montage of Katniss begins. They talk of her rise to rebel power, and then proceed to tear her down, claiming that she deserved such a violent end.

The room begins to spin around you, an icy feeling spreads from your head down your chest and back, reaching for your legs. You try to hold back the tears that build in your eyes, but once the first one falls, it’s over. A loud sob escapes you as you take a step forward toward the screen.

You quickly change direction, stumbling to a desk with a computer and keyboard on it. You’re barely able to pull the trash can out from underneath it, before you’re vomiting up your entire breakfast and lunch. You can’t breathe. Between the hyperventilating, the tears, and the puke, you struggle to get more than a breath of air in you at a single time.

You sink to your knees, hands coming into contact with the cold cement. You cry for a few seconds, until it dissolves into a coughing fit, that has you gagging.

He’s dead. Your fiance is dead, and it’s been less than a week since he left for the Capitol.

The doors to Command open behind you. The sounds of boots scuffing on the ground is hardly audible over your sniffling. You tilt your head back, letting the tears roll down your chin, to your neck.

“(Y/n).” Someone says, coming to crouch next to you. A hand is placed on your back, between your shoulders, rubbing gently. You think it’s Haymitch. “You have to get out before Coin gets here.”

“I don’t care.” You whimper, “Let her. It doesn’t matter anymore. None of it matters to me without him.”

—

Finnick survived.

He’s in the Capitol, waiting for your hovercraft to land so that he can be the first person you see when you step off. From what you’ve heard, he’s not even significantly hurt from his time navigating the streets and the sewers.

When they had first told you that he wasn’t dead and he’d successfully made it to the mansion alongside Katniss, about twelve hours ago, you thought they were playing a cruel joke on you. It wasn’t until they pulled up pictures of him in the aftermath, helping navigate the wounded around him, did you believe them.

There was no question about it, Coin didn’t even bother to put up a fight against you. You, Johanna and Haymitch were put on the first hovercraft that would be traveling to the Capitol. And you haven’t been able to sit still in your seat the entire time. It’s driven Johanna crazy enough to have Haymitch switch seats with her.

You reach for your engagement ring, twisting it on your finger. You should be landing any minute now. It’s only been a week or so since Finnick left you in Thirteen, but it’s felt like months. You went from having him, to losing him, and getting him back only a couple days later.

The hovercraft jerks suddenly as you land. Your fingers fly to the belt they advised for you to have on during the landing. You pull it off, getting to your feet. The pilots shout for you to stay back while they open the rear door. Nothing happens for the longest second, and then the door begins to creak and groan, sunlight flooding in through the cracks.

You start forward, eyes adjusting to the sunlight. When it’s about halfway down, you’re able to get your first glimpse of the hovercraft runway, and the people coming toward you. His bronze hair is shining in the sunlight, and he’s changed into street clothes, instead of wearing the bulky armor that he’d been pictured in.

The second the door touches the concrete, and the pilots tell you it’s safe to leave, you’re out the door and running in his direction. The people he’s with move away, expecting a large impact, while Finnick opens his arms widely, ready to embrace everything you have for him.

You slam into his body, feeling his arms wrap around you, pulling you against him so tightly, that you’re sure you’ll become one person. Finnick presses kisses on your forehead, temple, cheek, neck—anywhere he can touch skin. When you tilt your head back, he seizes your lips in a long kiss, that you have to force yourself to break apart from.

His face twists, eyebrows drawn in, about to ask you why you’ve pulled away like that, but you’ve already grabbed a hold of the front of his shirt, beginning to shake him. He grabs your arms, eyes widening.

“If you ever do that to me again, Finnick, I’ll leave you!” You shout at him, jerking his shoulders. “Do you understand? I will leave and never come back!”

“I’m so sorry, (Y/n).” Finnick says, holding onto you. “I’m so—”

“How could you do that to me?” You sob, “You could’ve died!”

“I know.” He tells you, “It won’t happen again, honey. I promise you. And I’m going to keep it this time.”

You cup his face, pressing your lips to his.

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darklinsblog · 2 years

Text

Sexy times with Morpheus would include…

Author’s note: Yes, I mean sexual activity I didn’t want to be too explicit with the title but filth ahead, be aware 👹

Morpheus is a highly sexual being but he does believe any sexual act to be a truly intimate moment, so if he wants to go at it, congrats! The Endless trusts you

Before you actually do the deeds, he wants to know exactly what you like and what you don’t, the more specific you are, the better. He wants to make sure your needs are being met

Once he’s had you for the first time, he just can’t stop thinking about you

So he comes up with any excuse he can think of to get you two alone

“Y/N? Would you mind helping me with some research?”

You were the object of research

He enjoys foreplay, because of the power you are able to give him over you, to feel your knees buckle at his touch.

Enjoys taking his time with you

His favorite thing is to undress you and take a minute to admire your naked figure

You know he’s horny when he kisses your neck

He is vocal asf on sex

Loves to kiss your whole body

He’s the love making kind of guy

Constantly makes sure you’re enjoying it as much as him

Careful not to hurt you

“ Are you okay, princess?”

But he DEFINITELY knows how to play rough

King of praising

“You’re exquisite”

He likes you to be loud, but he would much rather you moaning in his ear

Has a thing for doing it on his throne

Likes to pull your hair

Also likes you to pull his hair

If you’re a dominant, he will practically beg for you to ride him, he loves to see you have that sexual confidence.

If you are more submissive he isn’t afraid to take charge, he will treat you like one of his dreams, a creation made for his pleasure.

He uses your dreams to know and fulfill your deepest, darkest desires.

He isn’t a selfish lover, in fact, quite the opposite

Puts your pleasure before his, he makes you cum at least one time before he does

He is a master at eating you out like you’re a feast

He goes deep

Just being inside you is enough to make him lose his mind

Loves to mark you in places nobody but else him can see

Let’s you mark him as well

He may not actually say it, but he loves when you scratch his back

Speaking of not actually saying things… he also likes you to go down on him but he’s too polite and correct to actually vocalize it

When you do go down he’s careful not to get too excited and pull you down roughly

His guilty pleasure is hearing you gag on him

Dream likes when you try to keep quiet but you fail miserably

He will do anything in his power to have you say his name like a prayer for hours

Overstimulation

“Morpheus- I can’t anymore”

“Just one more, my love”

He gets turn on by the slightest shit, like the clothes you wear, the way you cross your legs together or if you just brush your fingers slightly over his crotch

Morpheus likes to kiss you while taking care of you so he can take every moan, gasp and breathe in his mouth

Likes to have you cum with his fingers alone

He doesn’t do much teasing but when he does…

“I’ve barely even touched you and look how drenched you are, my love”

Prefers positions in which he can see your face clearly

Possessive asf

He likes you to acknowledge yourself as his as he acknowledges he is yours

Likes to hold you close for a few seconds after you cum

Aftercare is the most important thing for him

Would read to you while caressing your hair as a form of aftercare

Complete sucker for you wearing his clothes afterwards

He leaves small gifts behind if you fall asleep and he’s not there

“You looked so peaceful I didn’t want to disturb you, I’ll be with Lucienne if you need me”

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desos-records · 1 year

Text

the moments in the Lockwood and Co show that really break my heart are the ones where Lockwood’s armor cracks. god bless the actor, his expressions are so subtle but convey so much.

you see it a little when he’s asking Lucy if she’ll take the job (if she’ll stay), then a little with Kipps (telling Lucy not to stay), a bit when his charming words, a weapon as real as his rapier, fail completely on Barnes

but the first real break happens when Lucy’s possessed because he’s completely unprepared for this and it has nothing to do with the ghost and everything to do with how she’s touching his face and how she’s looking at him (like she loves him, like she means it when she says that). and worse, how she’s asking him not to hurt her (he’s afraid he will one day)

then again when Barnes tells Lockwood to fire Lucy (that he won’t be able to let her stay), probably because there’s no one to see his face. his mask shoots right back up as soon as he turns around.

and again when Lucy threatens to quit

“we need you [I need you].”

“why?”

“because [it’s too soon to tell you this] because you’re [someone I already can’t stand the thought of losing] you’re Lucy Carlyle [and you make everything better]”

you see it a little after they blow up the well, but it looks more like a strange sort of relief than a break (Lucy and George are safe) and all he needs is a little grounding (holding Lucy’s hand). the real one happens when Fairfax calls his bluff and points a gun at him, not because of the gun, not really, but because his words can’t protect him (but Lucy can)

when he apologizes to Lucy for yelling at her (hiding how rattled he was by George’s comment about his feelings for her), his armor doesn’t break so much as he sets it down on purpose this time. he can’t stand the thought of hurting her and if he has to come out from behind his mask to make amends (if that’s what it takes for her to stay), he will

there are cracks all over his armor when Winkman threatens him (because his words mean nothing here), but it shatters when he threatens Lucy. he’s begging this man to kill him for the chance that Lucy lives. and oh, when Winkman says he’ll kill Lockwood first so he won’t have to watch her die (his words don’t just fail to protect him, they fail to protect her)

and you can see that part of him wants to set it down when Lucy asks him why he was so so quick to die for her, but he just managed to pull it back together and the wound is too raw. he understands that she’s angry with him (and he cannot stand that), but I’m not sure he understands why. because it doesn’t occur to him that she cares about him too (that she cannot stand the thought of losing him). all he can process right then is that Lucy’s alive and she’s angry with him, but at least she’s safe now

from the beginning he’s constantly trying to make sure she’s safe, but he’s more and more obvious about it. it isn’t George saying Lockwood’s in charge, not her, that gets him moving (he could barely sit still as it is), it’s the reminder that she’s in danger and he’s not there to make sure she’s safe. he was fully prepared to break down that basement door if it meant rescuing her. he grounds her the best way he knows how (the way his hand runs down her forearm before he holds her hand) and tells her

“we’ve got you now [I’m here].”

“you’re safe now, okay? you’re with us. [I’ll make sure you’re safe].”

there’s still more hairline fractures when he sees Lucy with Kipps, when he sees her with Fittes. which is why he gives her the necklace. the thought of her maybe choosing someone else sends him running to tell her how important she is to him (as clumsy as it is) and ask her to stay. it’s not as outright as before because it’s not just them, it’s everything he’s threatened by

“I can’t compete with this [with someone else for your favor]”

the worst of it, of course, is around the auction. before it starts, the DEPRAC agent sees right through him, giving Lockwood a painful reminder of his age (which he tries to act above) with one hand

and when he and Lucy are fighting, he pushes her away, would’ve charged in there alone, but she stays (it’s much too real now). she calls him out and his armor fails him, but he still can’t seem to process her point. he thinks just being around him (much less getting close to him) will hurt her. failing to understand that losing him would hurt her (and it is far too late to turn back)

and then after, when the DEPRAC agent dies and Lockwood is so quick to blame himself, it isn’t just a break. he loses all of it. his center is on full display, his fear and his bleeding heart. he can barely stand.

he still reaches out to Lucy to ground himself (because when he can’t protect himself, she does) and she’s so forceful with her feelings for him. she’s not gently touching his face, but holding his head and jarring him back to present (which is the real way Lucy loves). he can’t hold onto her properly or even look at her, but she’s the one who gives him back his armor. she presses their foreheads together and he takes a breath and he starts to build it back up

it’s ramshackle and unsteady, but it’s back by the time they step out of the car. it’s still nothing against Lucy. and he realizes here, as she’s walking away from him, what she’s been trying to tell him

so by the time he quietly steals into the kitchen, he’s left it behind again, because he’s learning that he doesn’t need it with Lucy (it’s hardly protection if it’s hurting her). this is his center too, the part full of love, and it’s no mistake that it happens in the kitchen, the center of their house. and he’s more honest than he’s ever been

“don’t give up on me.”

“the bottom of the thames used to be a far more appealing place to be.”

“and really no one would have cared.”

“but now... [now there’s you and you care and I won’t hurt something you care about].”

and of course it does come back during the final fight (it is a survival instinct after all) and when he’s collapsing, in pain, afraid (old habits don’t go away overnight). but Lucy and George push back before he goes too far

“this isn’t how you die.”

“how do you know?”

“we won’t let you.”

“never.”

he’s in a place where he can start healing (now that the wound’s been cleaned out), which is why he opens the door. because, yes, his armor is useful, but he doesn’t need it with George and Lucy

#thank you for coming to my tedtalk #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #lockwood and lucy #locklyle #george karim #george cubbins #lockwood netflix #lockwood and co netflix #She speaks!

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katelynnwrites · 10 months

Text

You Are In Love (True Love) | Felicitas Rauch

warnings: none :)

word count: 2076

summary: you’re in love with feli and feli is in love with you, part two can be found here

a/n: in honor of 1989 (taylor’s version) being announced 10 days ago, i meant to write a short something but it ended up way longer than i thought it would so my bad for that lol

Morning, her place

Feli’s arm is slung around your waist, the familiar weight a source of great comfort to you.

You can feel her even breaths as puffs against your cheek.

Your girlfriend mumbles something indistinctly and she presses a kiss against the side of your forehead.

A smile grows on your face and you gently scratch her scalp.

There’s only a little bit of sunshine coming in through the crack in the blinds.

The early morning air is cool but it’s warm under the covers.

Warm enough that you never want to leave.

You have your person with you and that is always going to be more than enough for you.

Burnt toast, Sunday

Sunday is game day.

Felicitas always makes breakfast on game days. On every day really because when she doesn’t, you end up with something inedible.

Really, you should leave it to her from now on but you honestly thought you would be able to manage toast at least.

You’re staring at your burnt toast in disbelief when your girlfriend enters your kitchen,

She catches sight of your failed breakfast immediately.

The German player covers her mouth, trying to stifle her giggles but she’s more than unable to do so, holding onto her stomach as she laughs out loud.

‘Feli…’ You plead, cheeks getting redder by the second but she can’t.

‘I’m so sorry.’ She pants.

Breathlessly, she gives you a little kiss, seeking forgiveness.

‘I’m sorry.’ She mumbles and you reluctantly smile.

‘Don’t be. It is funny.’

Your girlfriend giggles again, kissing you again but this time with a lot more enthusiasm.

Glancing back at your burnt toast, you let out a soft laugh.

‘I really thought I was going to get it this time.’

There’s a mixture of sadness and wistfulness in your tone but you brush it off with another self deprecating laugh.

Felicitas kisses you gently, ‘It’s okay liebling. Now why don’t I make us some proper toast? I’ll teach you and you’ll get it soon I promise.’

You keep her shirt

You sneak your girlfriend’s shirt into your suitcase.

Feli’s been affectionately complaining that you’ve been stealing one too many of her shirts.

So reluctantly, you’d returned them all and she had thanked you with a long kiss.

But you can’t leave for the international break without at least one of her shirts.

Even if you’re not going to be wearing it, you want to sleep with it. You want to sleep with your girlfriend’s unique and comforting scent, especially when you are countries apart and she’s not there to hold you.

Your England roommate, Georgia, takes a photo of you sleeping, with your face buried into Felicitas’ shirt.

While she doesn’t have Feli’s number, her Bayern teammate, Sydney does.

Sydney forwards it to Feli immediately, teasing your girlfriend about what she could possibly have done to make you that smitten with her.

Felicitas herself doesn’t know the answer but she lets you keep all the shirts you want after that.

She keeps her word

The age gap was something that bothered Feli initially. The older German woman had been so hesitant to start a relationship with you, wondering if she was too old for you and if it would be better for you to date someone closer to your own age.

It had been her friend Sara who had knocked sense into her.

Quite literally, she had flicked Feli on her forehead and firmly told her that a six year age difference is not the end of the world.

Sara had made Felicitas see how lucky she is, to have the chance to love someone and the chance for that same someone to return that love.

Your girlfriend’s close friend had quietly asked her if she was willing to let you go, in spite of how deep her feelings ran for you just because she was afraid of what others would think.

And Felicitas had decided that she wasn’t willing to do that.

So she had shyly asked you to be her girlfriend and neither of you have looked back since.

Now Feli had agreed to a night out with the rest of the team but you couldn’t go due to your backlog of university work.

It isn’t easy to be in university while being a professional footballer.

You struggle a lot with math and you are so thankful for your girlfriend who unlike you finds it easy.

She loves math and even has a Master’s degree in a related field.

Felicitas had suggested she stay and help you out but you had insisted she go with the rest of the team and have a fun night out.

Your girlfriend had come up with another round of protests before leaving, feeling guilty about leaving you behind but you had waved her off.

You made her swear to enjoy herself without worrying about you.

Eventually Feli had relented, kissing your temple gently and promising to be back by eleven so that she can help you with your work.

After your girlfriend leaves, you work through several of your assignments productively until when you reach a particularly hard question which you procrastinate by deciding to give yourself a little break.

You scroll through Instagram, inadvertently coming across the various stories your teammates have posted, of the good time they are having.

You see Felicitas on Lena’s story, see the way she’s smiling and begin to doubt that she will be back at the time she promised you she would be.

Therefore it comes as a complete surprise to you when you hear her key turning in the lock, fifteen minutes before eleven.

‘Hey liebling.’ She greets, planting a kiss onto the top of your head.

‘Hi.’ You mumble, trying to keep your shock hidden.

‘Do you still need my help?’

‘Yeah.’ You nod blankly.

‘Okay. Let me just take a quick shower and then I’ll be right with you okay?’

‘Okay.’ You answer, still in a daze.

Felicitas kisses your cheek and then disappears into her bedroom.

You refocus back on your work this time with a bright smile on your face.

And for once, you let go of your fears and your ghosts

Felicitas pulls you closer to her, burying her nose into your hair.

She breathes in deeply and then reaches for your hand so that she can intertwine her fingers with yours.

‘What’s on your mind?’ You whisper, kissing the back of her hand.

Your girlfriend stays silent for a moment and then softly asks, ‘Move in with me.’

‘What?’ You breathe.

Felicitas sits up and you follow suit.

Your girlfriend gently rubs her thumb over the inside of your wrist.

‘You spend almost all of your time here. We spend every night together. Practically all your things are here, from your football boots to your books. I love you and I know you love me.’

‘Are you sure? Because I know you hesitated to date me. Feli I’m not sure I can take it if you decide to back out after I move in.’

Your heart is pounding in your chest but Felicitas simply places a delicate kiss onto your pulse point.

‘I’m sorry I ever made you doubt my commitment to our relationship. Believe me, I regret my hesitation every day but I promise you that I love you. My heart is yours and yours alone.’

‘I love you too Felicitas.’ You quietly say.

It’s not the answer your girlfriend is expecting so she takes it as rejection, her shoulders slumping with disappointment.

‘But you’re not ready are you? That’s okay…I can wait till you are and in the meantime, I’ll do everything I can to show you that I’m not going to leave you-’

You cut her off, pulling Feli into a passionate kiss.

‘I’d love to move in with you.’

Letting go of all your past anxieties, you repeat yourself, ‘I’d love to move in with you.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

One step, not much but it said enough

‘Here you go.’ Felicitas says, a bright and clear joy shining from her eyes.

She hands you the spare key to her apartment and you close your hand around it eagerly.

Your girlfriend laughs happily and kisses you excitedly.

You’re just as happy to reciprocate the gesture.

You kiss on sidewalks

‘Liebling?’

‘What?’ You ask, wondering why your girlfriend has suddenly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

‘You have a little something here.’

Felicitas points to the corner of your mouth and you hand her the ice cream you have been eating so that you can wipe your mouth.

‘Better?’ You ask and Feli smirks, now holding two ice creams.

‘No.’ She states unhelpfully before licking your ice cream and you roll your eyes at her.

Your girlfriend shrugs, taking a tiny step forward so that she’s right in front of you.

‘Feli?’

‘Oops.’ She whispers, pressing her lips onto yours.

She tastes like her coffee flavoured ice cream and after she pulls away, you blush.

Felicitas grins and passes you your ice cream back.

‘There wasn’t anything on my face was there?’

Your girlfriend simply shrugs again and you laugh, reaching out to hold her hand.

You fight and you talk

The thing about moving into Feli’s apartment is that when you both get into an argument, there’s nowhere for either of you to go.

Especially this late at night.

So you leave your girlfriend in the bedroom and make up your mind to sleep on the couch.

She doesn’t follow you out and you refuse to go back into the bedroom.

Felicitas has always been an early riser but you’re surprised to find her sitting beside you when you wake up.

‘I’m sorry.’ She whispers.

You sit up, rubbing your eyes before looking at her.

‘I’m sorry too. I get where you’re coming from because we have had such packed schedules lately.’ You apologise.

‘I should never have said you didn’t want to spend time with me. I know you do. Spending time with your family is important and I’m glad that the short break we have coming up gives you the chance to do that.’ Your girlfriend explains.

‘You’re right, I love spending time with you and I love spending time with my family.’

‘I know. It wasn’t fair to make you choose. I’ll go with Sara and the girls. They’re planning a weekend trip and I’m sure they won’t mind me tagging along.’

‘Or you could come to England with me? That way you get to spend time with me while we visit my family.’ You quietly ask.

Your girlfriend blinks.

‘I’d love that.’

One night she wakes, strange look on her face

It’s a kind of an off feeling that you have, like something isn’t right.

It is the reason you wake up, in the early hours of the morning.

‘Felicitas?’ You whisper, sitting up immediately when you see that not only is she not sound asleep beside you but sitting at the bay window across the room and gazing out.

She turns to look at you, her expression a mixture of contentment and something else that you can’t quite put your finger on.

‘What are you doing up liebling?’

‘The bed’s too empty without you.’ You admit and your girlfriend softens, crossing the room quickly to press a kiss against your cheek.

‘Why are you up?’

Feli shrugs lightly, ‘I came to a realisation.’

‘Yeah?’ You prompt, leaning into her when she sits beside you.

Pauses, then says, you’re my best friend

Your girlfriend smiles gently before confessing, ‘You’re my best friend.’

She says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world and it makes your heart fill with more love than you ever thought possible.

For Felicitas though, it isn’t.

‘Not in the way Pauline is. You’re a different kind of best friend. It’s like you make every room you walk into brighter. Your laugh is my favourite sound and I just want to spend the rest of my life hearing it.’

‘Feli…’ You breathe.

‘You’re my best friend too. I love you.’

Your girlfriend gasps quietly, eagerly pulling you by your shirt towards her so that she can kiss you.

And you knew what it was, she is in love

Being in love is different than simply loving someone. You learn that difference because of Felicitas.

In the way she kisses you, you know she feels it too. She is in love with you.

German Translation:

liebling - love

#feli rauch #felicitas rauch #feli rauch x reader #felicitas rauch x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso imagines #dfb frauen x reader #dfb frauen imagine #gerwnt x reader #gerwnt imagine #katelynnwrites #uswnt imagine #uswnt x reader #woso

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