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seyaryminamoto · 2 years

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Sesskik Weekend - Day 3: Family/Protectors of children

And here's my final entry, by far my favorite of the three days, both story-wise and art-wise. Hope you enjoy!

Read on FF.net//AO3

The whistling tune of the Soul Piper's call enveloped Kohaku when he regained some manner of corporeality and consciousness. He opened his eyes slowly, knowing all too well what its presence meant, prepared, deep in his heart, to obey that call, no matter if he was full of regrets, no matter if over the past months he had found himself truly wishing to live out his life as best as possible, in a world at peace, with those he treasured…

But he wasn't alone in that dark, spiritual space where the Piper's music echoed beautifully.

Kohaku gasped: Sesshomaru seemed to glow underneath ethereal spiritual lights with Tenseiga, the sword he seldom wielded, clasped firmly in his sole hand.

"You will not claim the boy's soul," his voice echoed firmly: Kohaku gasped again, raising a hand towards his stalwart protector.

"Lord Sesshomaru…!" he gasped.

"Stay back, Kohaku," Sesshomaru said: the words were harsh, but the tone of his voice was not unkind. Kohaku froze where he hovered, in the midst of that vast darkness.

The sword in Sesshomaru's hold seemed to shine: Kohaku frowned, identifying the source of that glow as… spiritual powers? How was that possible, in the hands of a demon lord like him…?

It wasn't just any spiritual power: it was the very same power that had purified the shard that no longer resided in the nape of Kohaku's neck. Lady Kikyo… what had she done?

Tenseiga continued to glow threateningly, and Sesshomaru raised the weapon towards the Soul Piper. It continued to play its flute, its eyes opening slowly… until they didn't.

The tune drifted into nothingness, and the spiritual energy pulsating from Tenseiga seemed to demand for Sesshomaru to take action in a new way, even as the Soul Piper drifted back into nothingness. Kohaku blinked, utterly perplexed by Sesshomaru's intervention… by whatever the demon lord's choice would mean, going forward.

"Lord Sesshomaru…" Kohaku said, shivering. "I didn't mean to burden you, or Lady Kikyo. I…"

Sesshomaru frowned as he drifted closer to Kohaku: he raised Tenseiga in Kohaku's direction and Kohaku briefly thought he had lost his patience, and that he'd chosen to cut Kohaku down himself.

The blade swung down upon him.

Kohaku awoke suddenly, in the very same cabin Sesshomaru and Kikyo had brought him to a few days ago, in order to remove the Jewel's shard for good.

"Kohaku!" Rin's voice broke the silence, and Kikyo's hand touched his cheek delicately.

"You've returned to us," she said, kindly. "It seems he was successful."

"W-what… what happened?" Kohaku asked, pushing himself up nervously: his hand moved towards his neck… where an unwanted, unsettling presence had once dwelled. He had noticed its absence when his soul had dwelled in that odd, spiritual plane: the shard was no longer there. "Lord Sesshomaru came to me, he… he scared the Soul Piper away! Lady Kikyo…!"

"That man is full of surprises," Kikyo smiled fondly at Kohaku as he sat up properly. "Over the past weeks we devised a way to preserve your life. As for the shard…"

She raised it: it was pristine, so much it almost seemed white rather than pink. Kohaku let out a soft laugh, a nervous one, as his eyes shifted towards the beaming, joyful Rin.

"Lord Sesshomaru and Lady Kikyo saved you!" she exclaimed, rushing in to hug Kohaku: for once, the boy didn't seem to hesitate to hug her back. "You're safe, Kohaku! You are!"

"T-thank you. Thank you…" Kohaku said, gazing at Kikyo with helpless, tearful eyes. She smiled fondly at him, nodding her head in his direction.

"If even I have found this life of mine may be worth living, after all… your soul, as well, deserved to be saved from a fate that was forced upon you," Kikyo said, earnestly. "The purity of preserving a life is far greater than the one in sacrificing it for the alleged right reasons, Kohaku."

"I… I don't know if I understand, but…" Kohaku admitted, hugging Rin still. "Thank you, Lady Kikyo. And Lord… Lord Sesshomaru?"

The demon lord was not present in the room just yet, and only then did Kohaku realize he had returned to this plane of existence far faster than Sesshomaru had. Kikyo smiled, shaking her head reassuringly.

"Tenseiga led him on a mysterious path to find you, but he will return to us when…"

It had only been five minutes since the shard's removal, if even that. Yet, in that moment, Sesshomaru's protection had faded from the world of the living while he traveled across lands of the dead to save Kohaku's soul. Kikyo had poured some of her spiritual powers into Tenseiga, and Sesshomaru had found greater potential in the weapon than ever before: no longer was it relegated to saving souls moments after their demise… but he could contest the souls that would be claimed by spirits, both wicked and good-natured alike: Kohaku, being a child, had been sought by the Soul Piper, and Sesshomaru, wielder of the sword of the Netherworld, had the power to ensure Kohaku's soul would be spared.

At the very beginning of their efforts to save Kohaku, the purified shard had been removed from the boy's neck. It rested in Kikyo's hand now… and as pure as it was, as distant from dark, evil thoughts as it might be, it still served as an unintentional beacon for the rest of the Jewel, in Naraku's possession.

The small hut suddenly was overcome by a suffocating miasma, its source unsurprising and utterly predictable. Kohaku fished for his face mask in his pocket, intending to offer it to Rin… only for the miasma to stop short of reaching them, once Kikyo rose to her feet.

"L-lady Kikyo! Lady Kikyo!" Jaken screeched and coughed, yanking the door of the hut open and sneaking inside it. "Outside, it's…!"

"He has come for the final shard," Kikyo said, serene and stern, her brow furrowed: the powers she wielded seemed revitalized somehow, Kohaku realized, for she kept the miasma at bay while betraying absolutely no effort to do so. "I had hoped Sesshomaru would have returned before this moment… but I may need to confront Naraku myself."

"Lady Kikyo…!" Kohaku gasped. Jaken winced, too.

"D-do not be reckless! Lord Sesshomaru will be cross if you jump into danger…!" Jaken squeaked. Despite herself, Kikyo smiled at the imp.

"You needn't worry for my safety, Jaken. Not today," Kikyo stated, closing her eyes:

She could feel the bond between them as Sesshomaru's sword guided him through the pathways beyond this world. He would return soon… but even if he didn't, he carried a part of her with him, the power she had infused his sword with. Just so, she carried him with her, in the emotions he had woken within her very soul, in the purpose he had granted her, in the strength she had found in his companionship.

He was with her, and she was with him. Together, they were everything Naraku had hoped to be and never would. Together, their power far outdid that of a Sacred Jewel.

Together, they would protect these children… their family.

Thus, she stepped forward, powering her barrier further and chasing away the dark energies Naraku had unleashed upon the small cabin.

She pushed the door open anew, finding Naraku's typical army of lesser demons waiting in the large plains before them, ready to attack. His newest creation, Byakuya, hovered near the very source of the festering demonic corruption, Naraku himself. The smug smirk that ever decorated his face was a most unpleasant sight… but Kikyo certainly hoped it would be the last time she would ever glimpse it.

"I see you have finally removed the shard from Kohaku's neck, Kikyo," Naraku said. "Yet his soul has not been claimed. Saving his life was a valiant effort… but one that is ultimately meaningless. I will take that shard today."

"You certainly shall," Kikyo declared, raising her bow and nocking an arrow to threaten Naraku away from her protegees.

"You cannot hope to maintain that barrier forever," Naraku declared. "Even one as powerful as you, Kikyo, would lose their strength over time. Is it you hope to recreate the past? The great priestess Midoriko and the demon that hunted her certainly created something beautiful. Is that what you hope to achieve by standing your ground against me today?"

"Trapping myself, and you, in an endless struggle of evil and purity?" Kikyo asked: a slight smirk tugged at the side of her mouth. "What a revolting notion."

Naraku let out a devious chuckle as he hovered closer. Kikyo's arrow gleamed with spiritual power: the fragment in her hand seemed to have a will of its own, wanting its power to infuse the arrow with which she would destroy Naraku… and yet she didn't loosen the arrow. The barrier around them remained as sturdy as ever.

"This is the fate you choose, however. Revolting as you may claim it is, we shall be entwined for eternity if your plan is what I've understood it to be," Naraku said. "A purified shard, is it? You trust the purity will cleanse away the corruption I have poured into the Sacred Jewel? Your arrogance knows no boundaries, Kikyo."

"No one is quite as boastful as you are. Do not pretend to lecture me about my shortcomings when you're smitten with your own," Kikyo snapped. Naraku laughed anew.

"Harsh words won't change the inevitable…"

"Kikyo! Kikyo!"

The familiar voice caused Kikyo's eyebrow to twitch: even so, the barrier didn't shift, although Naraku's attention shifted briefly.

"Ah. I see you've arrived, Inuyasha," Naraku said, smirking down at the half-demon and his entourage.

The half-demon and all his friends rushed into the scene at haste, and it was no surprise that the demon slayer would cry out in anguish upon realizing her younger brother was in danger. Only Kikyo stood between him and Naraku's reach… she didn't realize her brother was alive once again, by his own power, until Kagome gasped, revealing her realization in loudly:

"Kohaku's shard…! Kikyo is holding it!" she exclaimed. Sango, on Kirara's back, paled upon hearing those words. "Sango, Kohaku is still alive!"

"E-eh…?" Sango's lips parted: yes, her brother was there… she could see him, plain and clear, hugging Rin within that cabin. He wasn't dead… the shard was gone. Somehow, Kikyo and Sesshomaru had preserved his life.

At least, he was alive for the time being: Naraku certainly appeared determined to kill everyone here and now, going by the strength of his miasma, as well as the army of demons he commanded callously.

"Kikyo! We'll distract him: get away!" Inuyasha bellowed, drawing his sword and leaping towards Naraku and his minions.

Even so, Kikyo didn't move an inch.

Inuyasha, as ever, battled fiercely against Naraku: his friends took to doing the same thing, but their efforts were futile. Where one monster was slain, three would take its place. Naraku seemed amused, no doubt marveling over the sheer power the Sacred Jewel already granted him… the power he hoped would increase further once he had completed the Jewel. It was only a matter of time…

"Kikyo! Kikyo!" The demon slayer rode towards the barrier, and Kikyo gritted her teeth as she allowed it to weaken slightly, just so the woman could cross its boundaries. Sango leapt off Kirara's back as soon as she could do so, running towards the cabin at haste. "Kagome says…! Kohaku!"

"Sister!" Kohaku exclaimed, rushing up to hug the woman once she reached them. "Lady Kikyo and Lord Sesshomaru… they saved me. They took the shard and I lived anyway…!"

"They… t-they truly saved you?" Sango dropped to her knees, tears of relief pouring from her eyes.

Still hugging her brother, she turned towards Kikyo, whose position didn't change in the slightest so far. The barrier was back to its full power, now protecting Sango and Kirara as well.

"Thank you for what you've done. I can't imagine I could ever repay you for it, but… both Rin and Kohaku should be taken to safety," Sango said. Kikyo's brow furrowed as Jaken protested Sango's words, whether over outrage of her apparent dismissal of Kikyo's ability to protect them… or over believing he, too, should have been part of the group that deserved protection. "I can take them to…"

"It would be of no use. Keeping them in the battlefield is as irresponsible as removing them from our protection," Kikyo stated. "Perhaps the latter is even more so."

"But…! You can't fight as easily if you're protecting them, can you?" Sango said. "You would be of great help, Naraku is…!"

"I will fight him. His final moments are at hand. But first… I must wait."

"W-wait?" Sango repeated, blinking blankly.

Kikyo breathed deeply before a smile graced her smooth features.

"He's coming."

Sango didn't understand what Kikyo's words meant. She knelt where she did, still embracing Kohaku…

She gasped when the blade of a sword slashed across the air, within their barrier.

Slowly, a portal was crafted by that blade. It was similar to the Meido Zangetsuha technique, and yet… it evoked a different sensation. It connected to something else, something beyond most their understanding…

And out of that portal stepped Sesshomaru, his brow lightly furrowed as he sheathed Tenseiga once more.

Kikyo lowered her bow, at last. Her eyes softened as she gazed into those of the demon lord, who raised his sole hand to cup her cheek.

"It is time," Sesshomaru said. Kikyo nodded.

"Naraku has made his appearance. This is the moment to strike," she said. Sesshomaru narrowed his eyes before pulling his hand back.

He clasped Tenseiga by the sheath. Kikyo frowned as he placed the blade upon her hands, and the pulsating spiritual energies she had poured into the weapon before engulfed them both.

"Sesshomaru…" Kikyo called him.

"Wield this blade. I will provide the opening you seek," Sesshomaru declared.

He trusted her wholly, fully, as he stepped away and towards the enemy. Jaken, Kohaku and Rin called for him, but no words reached his ears as he dashed forward, into the fray where Inuyasha, Kagome and Miroku battled fiercely so far…

Before their eyes, Sesshomaru's body began to change. Clothes were replaced by fur, the stoic stern demeanor shifted into a wild snarl… and he grew in size abruptly, vastly, outdoing the largest of Naraku's demons, if not Naraku himself.

"Is that…?!" Sango gasped.

"Lord Sesshomaru's beautiful true form! He will not allow that vermin Naraku to get away with this!" Jaken roared fiercely, gazing at Sesshomaru with undeterred reverence.

Kikyo's brow furrowed: this was the final battle, and it would happen on their terms, not Naraku's. Sesshomaru rammed Naraku with his body, knocking him down, poisoning him with another kind of venom, different from Naraku's miasma. The battle between them was fierce and no less chaotic when the other three continued to fight as well, with Miroku reducing the crowd of demons with his wind tunnel, Kagome attacking Byakuya relentlessly, and Inuyasha with his wild, massive attacks with Tessaiga, aimed towards Naraku…

"I cannot take action from here. I… I must reach Naraku," Kikyo frowned, glancing at Sango. "Your nekomata…"

"You need us to get you closer?" Sango asked. Kikyo nodded firmly. Sango swallowed hard. "Can you… keep the children safe?"

It was an easy request to fulfill: she erected a new, static barrier upon the three under her and Sesshomaru's protection before joining Sango on the back of Kirara.

"Lady Kikyo…! Sister!" Kohaku shouted from within the barrier, gritting his teeth. "Go! Defeat Naraku!"

"Lady Kikyo!" Rin shouted too, hoping to encourage her along with Kohaku.

The priestess smiled kindly at the children before focusing on the battle anew: Sesshomaru had taken wounds, but he brushed them off carelessly. Her brow furrowed as they flew closer to the core of the conflict, finding that Inuyasha wasn't holding back his attacks… and neither was Sesshomaru, something that could result in both brothers injuring each other rather than their foe. Kikyo breathed deeply, watching as Kagome shot holy arrows in quick succession at Byakuya, who had taken some damage even if he had dodged most of the projectiles. She had to be pondering the weaknesses of Naraku and his incarnation, wanting to find anything her arrows could destroy that wouldn't regenerate immediately afterwards…

But Kikyo knew that Naraku, as he was now, had no greater weakness than the Sacred Jewel, corrupted and festering, in his grasp.

"And here comes the holy priestess…!" Naraku declared, upon glimpsing Kikyo on the back of Kirara. "The shard… it will be mine!"

"Not for an instant…" Kikyo whispered, drawing an arrow anew and aiming it towards Naraku. "Your rotting, festering evil will not strengthen any further, Naraku!"

"Your powers are no match against mine!" Naraku roared, but Kikyo released the arrow regardless of the monster's boast:

The holy light of her arrow gleamed brightly as it broke past multiple barriers of the demon's defenses. The glowing arrow tore into the corruption and reduced Naraku's strength with that sudden, surprising blast.

"That is…!" Kagome gasped, from the ground: she could sense that Kikyo's arrow had uncovered the Jewel's location if just briefly, and she aimed her next arrow in that direction as well.

Sesshomaru attacked him anew, attempting to tear at the rotting, reforming flesh that once again attempted to cover the weak spot in which the almost-complete Jewel nestled: twisted appendixes of the great demon conjunction continued to swirl around that weakness, and some of them rushed out towards Kikyo.

"You have done well," Kikyo told Sango, who had been steering Kirara away from the many threats that attempted to attack them.

"Hang on…!" Sango exclaimed, tossing her hiraikotsu to destroy the tendrils of evil that reached towards them.

A flash of yellow power cut across Naraku's body, next. The rotting chunks of corrupt beings were sucked away, into a void… and then, a burst of purity struck the area of the Jewel once more. All those attacks at once ensured that the regeneration of Naraku's shields and protections over the Jewel could not be achieved as fast as before. Sesshomaru's large demon form continued to tear and rip into every chunk of demon Naraku's body was comprised by, with no regard towards the miasma or the corruption, immobilizing his foe as best as possible.

"There!" Kagome shouted. "Kikyo, the Jewel…!"

"Kikyo!" Inuyasha roared as well. "Shoot now!"

They spoke with full trust in her abilities while not understanding, not truly, what she intended to do. But Kikyo had no time to explain, not anymore. She leapt off Kirara's back, to Sango's utter astonishment, diving fast, head-first, towards the now cleared spot in Naraku's wretched body, where the corrupted Jewel sought its final shard…

Her eyes closed as her hair came loose in the wind. Her hand, instead of reaching for a holy arrow, clasped the hilt of the beautiful sword Sesshomaru had entrusted to her.

In her control, Tenseiga gleamed brightly. In her grasp, the spirituality inherent to the demon's weapon seemed to burst into life.

It was everything the Sacred Jewel could never be. A perfect balance between demonic forces and spiritual ones.

Its power had been dormant for as long as Sesshomaru had failed to understand what he did now: he had granted Tenseiga to Kikyo willingly, trusting her as his equal, as the partner he had accepted by his side. The enemy he now fought against was no longer vermin to exterminate for the sake of remediating his slighted pride…

Now, Sesshomaru fought to protect those he had grown to care for, from the depths of his demon's heart.

Just so, Kikyo's quest for revenge against the monster responsible for her lifetime's tragedies had lost much of its former importance: she would protect this world, as well as the valuable lives of those she had met in her journey.

Together, they embodied an ideal union of spiritual and demonic. They were true balance, for that was what they had wanted to be. The trust between them bridged their souls together… and through that union, the birth of a new world would be within their reach.

Kikyo dropped the shard: it spun on its way down, drawn towards the Jewel that longed to be complete.

That single shard fell into place, and the pulse of spiritual energy shook Naraku: it would take his every effort to fight back against that purity, to corrupt it before it could purge the Jewel from his influence…

The tip of Tenseiga swung down, connecting with the Jewel on the very spot upon which the pure shard had fallen.

A blast of energies, demonic and pure alike, shot across the land, the oceans, the sky.

Most of those near Naraku were flung off with the power of that blast… most, save for Sesshomaru, whose claws tore across the crumbling body of the wretched being who could no longer sustain his own power… not without the Jewel, a crutch through which he had ensured his survival, constantly, for almost a full year.

He was but the weak, craven, dishonest Naraku once more. A blend of corrupt demons and a human soul even more corrupt than the fiends it had drawn to itself…

The power of Sesshomaru's unyielding fangs and talons, and the spiritual blade Kikyo stabbed into the spot where Onigumo's heart once beat, destroyed every remnant of the demon aberration that was once known as Naraku.

The overwhelming light surrounding her served to help her focus on her own shape, her own soul, once more. Slowly, she seemed to grow aware of the strange, spiritual space in which she drifted… a space that didn't appear all that unfamiliar. She couldn't seem to process what had happened just yet… but when the figure before her formed into a recognizable shape and presence, it became much easier to remember the events that had brought her into this plane of existence.

Before her stood a regal, beautiful priestess clad in armor, wielding a sword much like the one Kikyo had held earlier, in what had felt like moments ago but might have been a lifetime, instead. The priestess's serenity didn't hide the gratitude she felt, and she bowed her head towards Kikyo in a gesture of true respect.

It wasn't only gratitude for having saved the last remnants of her soul after so many years, she knew: it was gratitude for breaking the cycle of relentless violence between humans and demons. She had refused to prolong Midoriko's legacy any further, and Midoriko herself now thanked her for it: Kikyo had found a way to stop Naraku, to break apart his desire to lock himself with her in another endless battle, one where Kikyo's longing for a life of her own would never matter in the least. Their endless battle would have only been about him… his selfishness, his greed, his desperation for her acknowledgement through any means: if that acknowledgement came in the form of utmost hatred, he would welcome it gladly so long as she spared a glance in his direction.

Even now, adrift in that spiritual space, the concept sickened her. That her life could have become nothing but a single speck of goodness battling a sea of corruption, all be it because of that demon's wretched desires…

But she had been freed from such a fate. Another demon, to be precise, had offered her the means to attain actual freedom from those designs.

And in doing so, she had grown to feel something quite unexpected towards that very demon. Something she had never anticipated she would experience at all, not towards one of his kind… and yet the tears that surged in her eyes now could not have any other explanation.

She didn't want to follow Midoriko into ascendence and peace. She had failed to follow her example: she had crafted her own path… a path that had brought Kikyo closer to humanity than any priestess was supposed to be. Just so, the man who had accompanied her on this journey had, as well, drifted closer towards the barrier that was supposed to separate them as entirely different beings. A barrier that was knocked down and destroyed with ease by the blade they shared, by the children they had protected together…

She didn't want to go… not just yet. She knew she was supposed to, she knew her natural lifespan was well and truly spent… but she didn't wish to do so. Being a normal woman had been her dream, her deepmost, muffled wish… and he had told her she was extraordinary by nature. He couldn't understand that she had never felt more like a normal woman, with needs, desires and careless, innocent wishes, than she had while in his arms.

She wanted to be with him. Deep down, she wanted him and their small, odd, perhaps mismatched, family. Rin, Kohaku, Jaken, A-Un… she longed to see all of them again. If just the one more time, if just to say goodbye…

She wanted to go back. She wanted to go back. She wanted to…

"… she's waking up! She is!"

Warmth. A strong, comforting presence… and warmth, powerful, swirling warmth holding her tightly against something soft…

"Lady Kikyo!"

She had been in those arms before. She had heard those voices before.

"Lady Kikyo!"

She drew in a sharp breath, well before opening her eyes.

Her chest rose and fell. She shivered, and the embrace around her tightened further.

"She's… she's breathing!"

"I told you, she's different! Her scent is like… like the old Kikyo!"

That loud voice, terribly familiar, could only have belonged to one person. His words seemed to bounce back and forth within her mind as she struggled to come to terms with reality: she was breathing. She was breathing. She was…

Her heart was beating.

She had a heart, to begin with.

Her eyes opened gradually, taking in the sunlight she was shrouded from under the shade of an old tree. The breeze brushed against her face, the scent of spring drifted by… her stomach churned with hunger. Her joints ached from effort, it seemed. Her breaths kept coming and going, one after the other, in flowing succession…

And once her eyes focused, she found an intense golden stare upon her.

Sesshomaru held her. His stoic expression was unreadable for most, but not for her: he was concerned over her wellbeing. He held her tightly, unconcerned with whoever might see her in his arms. He had nothing to hide, nothing to feel shame for… not when his heart flooded him with emotions he finally had recognized as a source of strength rather than weakness. He held her so tightly…

Kikyo gasped: he held her with both arms.

"S-Sesshomaru…" she said. His eyes softened upon hearing his name from her lips.

"Kikyo!" Inuyasha exclaimed: she knew he was nearby, but she seemed entranced in Sesshomaru's hold, unable and unwilling to tear her eyes away from him.

"You have awoken," Sesshomaru said. How she had grown to recognize the subtleties in his voice, the small sprinkle of happiness that nobody else would be able to sense in his tone…

But she could, for she knew his heart just as well as he knew her newly beating own. She understood him and he understood her: that very mutual understanding had brought them to walk a path together, knowing not where it would lead them, but not needing to know, either: as long as they walked side by side, nothing would deter them, nothing would stand in their way…

Not even Naraku.

"Is he…?" Kikyo blurted out, struggling to regain his bearings. "Naraku, is he…"

"He is no more," Sesshomaru answered. Kikyo might have smiled upon hearing the news, but the shock of her circumstances prevented her from doing as much.

"Kikyo…" Kagome's voice reached her, and Kikyo gritted her teeth as she glanced to the side at last: Inuyasha's most faithful companion knelt beside her, eyes wide with amazement. "You purified him out of existence, somehow. When the light from Tenseiga faded… we only found you and Sesshomaru in the wreckage. The Sacred Jewel is… it's gone."

"Destroyed," Kikyo said, blinking weakly. Kagome nodded.

"And you were human, once more," she said.

Kikyo trembled upon hearing those words. Kagome offered her a tearful smile and a nod as Kikyo glanced at Sesshomaru next. His hands pulled her closer as she shivered, confused, grateful, astonished… the emotions she felt seemed to swell and threaten to burst at the same time. He pressed his brow to hers in a reassuring gesture, and Kikyo closed her eyes as her hand reached out… to touch his left. What hadn't been there, before…

"What happened?" she asked. "Sesshomaru, your arm…"

"When I returned to this form…" Sesshomaru said. Kikyo gazed at him in utmost confusion. "It was part of me once more."

Kikyo let her gaze drift down towards his hip… where a new sword sat, one she had never seen before. Sesshomaru nodded slowly at her perplexity.

"Bakusaiga. A weapon of my own," he explained.

Kikyo smiled slowly, her hand reaching up to his face. Her fingertips ever traced the lines across his cheeks until she cupped his face, in a gesture so intimate she could sense Kagome pulling back ever so slightly, no doubt feeling out of place upon witnessing their exchange. A choked gasp from Inuyasha followed, no matter if he had been aware, not only of the alliance between Sesshomaru and Kikyo for some time now, but of what the nature of their bond had become ever since they had begun searching for the method to save Kohaku's life.

"I… I wanted to return," she admitted. Sesshomaru frowned. "To Kohaku, to Rin… to you. I asked to return…"

She couldn't explain any further before his lips caught hers. Her hand slipped towards the back of his head, fingers sliding across his silver hair, and the passionately beating heart in her chest flooded her with every delightful, blissful emotion that assured her of her humanity, of the success in her strange, mysterious rebirth. She couldn't know what had happened, or how… but his warm breath, his smooth scent, the touch of his hands, the soft friction of their lips, all of it came together to remind her that she was alive… alive, free to live on by his side.

Tears spilled down her cheeks when they parted, as soft laughter left her lips. She pressed her brow to his, delighted to be held closely by his strong embrace: it seemed as though he was as unwilling to let go as she was to pull away…

The land upon which they'd fought against Naraku had been corrupted by his presence, then purified by Kikyo's actions. The beauty in their world suddenly seemed more real than ever before as she gazed around herself, as though seeing everything for what it was, for the very first time…

Rin, Kohaku and Jaken's smiles greeted her as she let her gaze travel across the three of them, sitting right beside them as she languished in Sesshomaru's arms. Both their group and Inuyasha's own had converged at this large tree, underneath which Sesshomaru held her so tightly. Inuyasha and Kagome were the ones standing closest to the tree, while the monk and the demon slayer stood further away, watching over the scene with small smiles: the monk remarked something Kikyo couldn't understand fully, and his companion laughed softly at his words just as the child fox leapt on his shoulder…

Everyone had survived? The Jewel and Naraku were gone. No trace of either of their presences had been left behind… and the world was infinitely better, far more beautiful, for it.

"Lady Kikyo!" Rin exclaimed: she and Kohaku crawled closer towards her once her kiss with Sesshomaru ended.

Even as she turned her head towards the children, Sesshomaru pressed his face to her neck: he breathed her in, so fully focused on her that he seemed not to know or care that he had taken injuries of his own while battling against Naraku. His broken breastplate, the damage upon his tunic… none of it meant anything, for Kikyo lived. It was a new opportunity at life… one where she would finally live for herself rather than to fulfill everyone else's demands and expectations. A life of freedom unlike any she had known before… a life unburdened with the Sacred Jewel's protection, or with Naraku's wretchedness.

"You're alive…" Kohaku smiled between tears, reaching for her hand as Kikyo raised it towards him. "You're alive, Lady Kikyo, I… t-thank you. Thank you. I… I wanted you to live on, and I wanted you to live, too…"

"Kohaku…" Kikyo smiled warmly, squeezing his fingers gently before her gaze drifted towards Rin. Her hand let go of Kohaku so she could caress the child's face delicately. Rin gasped happily upon feeling her warmth, clasping Kikyo's hand with her own.

"You're warm, Lady Kikyo," Rin said, closing her eyes. "Lord Sesshomaru… Lady Kikyo is warm!"

"Indeed she is, Rin," Sesshomaru responded, breathing in one more time as he sat upright, ensuring Kikyo's head would rest comfortably upon his chest.

"The children were safe, Lady Kikyo!" Jaken declared next: he stood between Kohaku and Rin, waving his staff proudly. "Your barrier stood around us until you fell, and by then, I, Jaken…!"

"He screamed and hid behind a rock," Rin giggled. Kikyo's smile warmed as Jaken squeaked, mortified by the girl's declaration.

"W-why you! Don't just spout such nonsense, Rin! I was right there, with you and Kohaku…!"

Kikyo laughed softly, pressing her face against Sesshomaru's collarbone. Their small family had survived the ordeal of Naraku's final battle… they were still here, together, smiling at each other as Jaken reacted explosively to Rin's childish teasing: they lived, and they would continue to do so for many more years, in a peaceful world unlike any they had known before.

Movement to her side revealed that Kohaku was raising something in their direction… Kikyo's eyes focused upon it to find it was Tenseiga, in its proper sheath.

"Your weapon… I picked it up before you woke," Kohaku explained, gazing at Sesshomaru.

Kikyo smiled fondly as Sesshomaru tightened his right arm around her body, using the left to take the weapon wordlessly. Kohaku smiled and bowed his head at Sesshomaru… as the demon lord brought the weapon to rest upon Kikyo's chest.

"Sesshomaru…?" she said, perplexed. He gazed at her as intensely as ever.

"Tenseiga… is our weapon," he said, simply.

Her smile warmed anew, and her hand came to rest upon his own, interlocked upon the blade they had shared. A blade that connected their energies, swirling within it as the ideal balance of spiritual and demonic power that had saved their world.

Kagome let out a happy sigh at the sight of the pair sitting underneath the tree, even if Inuyasha, beside her, twitched with discomfort.

"Inuyasha…" she raised an eyebrow, and he winced, scratching the back of his head.

"I know, I know, I've had time to wrap my head around it, Kagome," he said, grimacing. "But it's still hard to believe that bastard could be with her sometimes, y'know?"

"I'm not sure the Sesshomaru we used to know is… well, the one who's with her right now, if that makes any sense," Kagome said, with a weak smile. Inuyasha raised an eyebrow. "When you first severed his arm, he wanted to seize one of your father's swords against his designs. He wanted to use Tessaiga to destroy, while you chose to use it to protect a human life. Is it really that unreasonable that Tenseiga's potential only unlocked fully when Sesshomaru finally wanted to protect humans from the depths of his heart, rather than over prideful reasons?"

"You mean… he protected those two before to show everyone how powerful he was?" Inuyasha grimaced. "But ever since he met Kikyo…"

"There's a new purity to his heart that… to be frank, I didn't think was possible in someone like him," Kagome giggled, smiling at Inuyasha. "So… maybe this is for the best, isn't it?"

"Well… Naraku is finally gone," Inuyasha said, smiling much more earnestly. "And Kikyo was the one who did it. The one he wronged the most… I guess it's only fair, eh? Even Sesshomaru believed so."

"And now they get to live on together," Kagome smiled brightly. "She's reclaimed her human life… and their future will be even more beautiful now that Naraku is gone."

"All our futures, I think," Inuyasha said, smiling at Kagome as well. She grinned brightly.

"Yes! I always meant to help defeat Naraku, I did, but I have so many things I wanted to do still, like…!" she exclaimed… before her face's emotions froze over suddenly. Inuyasha raised an eyebrow.

"Kagome? What is it?" he asked. She blinked blankly once, then twice…

"I-Inuyasha…" she said, eyeing him warily. "The Jewel is… gone."

"It is."

"And… we can't get it back, can we?"

"Why would you want it back at all?" Inuyasha said, grimacing. "After all the trouble it caused…! I don't even want to be a full demon anymore, so why would you want to…?"

"Inuyasha, I can't go back to my time without the Sacred Jewel!"

It was his turn to freeze, much as everyone else froze when Kagome's so-far placid demeanor changed into her common, temperamental state. Inuyasha's jaw dropped, as Sango, Miroku and Shippo eyed them warily.

"So… does that mean Kagome gets to stay forever?" Shippo asked. Miroku shrugged.

"Oh, goodness…" Sango sighed, smiling weakly as Kagome and Inuyasha seemed moments away from losing their minds to panic.

"W-we have to…! There has to be a way!" Inuyasha squeaked, eyes shifting towards Sesshomaru and Kikyo. He leapt towards them, landing right behind Kohaku: "Kikyo! Sesshomaru! Use Tenseiga to help Kagome return to her time!"

"M-my high school dreams… I was finally about to start high school…!" Kagome whimpered, dropping on her knees as she stared hopelessly at the sky. Inuyasha winced upon hearing her words, gesturing at her again.

"Come on, Sesshomaru…!"

"Be quiet," Sesshomaru responded, curtly, his eyebrows twitching with plain annoyance.

"I can't be quiet! You have a sword that can do anything! K-Kikyo! Please…!"

"Do not speak to her so crudely. She is no servant you can command so callously," Sesshomaru growled: Kikyo, in his arms, couldn't hold back a soft laugh over her lover's harsh response and defense of her against his younger brother.

"Sesshomaru, you…!" Inuyasha growled, raising a fist in the demon lord's direction.

The others seemed to laugh at the silly exchange between the two siblings. Kagome continued to mourn her high school years, even after Kikyo intervened in the argument to promise to look into what Inuyasha was asking of them…

"It's hard to believe that Sesshomaru ever could become… such a family man, I suppose," Miroku said, smiling as he rubbed his palm gently: the disappearance of the wind tunnel still felt like a dream come true, one he wasn't sure he could give full credit to just yet.

"I suppose they do seem to be quite a big family… including Inuyasha and Kagome?" Sango remarked, laughing softly: Miroku and Shippo joined her laughter as Inuyasha rushed towards the disheartened Kagome, urging her to join him in begging Sesshomaru and Kikyo for their aid to resolve her predicament.

In the midst of all the strange rejoicing over Naraku's demise, a small, childish voice spoke to Jaken with undeniable mischief:

"Lord Jaken… do you think Lord Sesshomaru and Lady Kikyo will have more children?"

Jaken winced, and Rin grinned brightly at him. He cleared his throat, flustered visibly as he folded his arms across his chest.

"That… may be within the realm of possibility, but how should I know?! Pesky Rin, Lord Sesshomaru's plans are his, and his alone…!"

"Indeed they are, Jaken," Sesshomaru stated, and Jaken winced: of course he had heard his answer…

Rin giggled again, amused by the imp's flustered reaction. Once more, their small family shared a laugh, even if Sesshomaru hardly seemed amused, as opposed to the others. Kikyo, however, offered him a tender smile that echoed a sentiment he felt, deep in his heart: profound gratitude over the day their paths crossed, and over the peaceful future they had fought for and preserved, for their family's sake.

#sesskik #sesskikweekend #sesshomaru #kikyo #inuyasha #kagome #miroku #sango #shippo #kirara #kohaku #rin #jaken #I did not draw A-Un because I did that once before and I'm still in pain almost 2 years later #sorry A-Un I am just not strong enough #anyway I was way too happy with this one #the angle was tricky #but I'm so happy with how it turned out *wipes tear*

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thebibliosphere · 5 months

Text

There are a lot of things I'm sad about in my life. You don't get to go through the kind of medical trauma I've been through and come out unscathed on the other side.

But one thing I'm really bitter about is that I can't remember my wedding anymore. The pernicious anemia took it from me and wiped my brain clean. Except it's not clean, not really. I remember it in patches. Like red wine stains on a white rug that have never quite lifted out no matter how hard you try.

I look at the pictures on my bookcase, and they feel like remembering a story someone else has told me. There's a young woman in a white dress wearing my face, and she looks happy. I'm happy for her. But you can see the strain around her eyes, too. The pain she's hiding because no one with authority believes her when she says her body doesn't feel right. That something is Wrong.

They won't believe her for another decade. They won't believe her until it's almost too late, and it's that lateness that will rob her of her memories and turn them into a wavering rainbow suspended in the fine haze of watery sunlight that occasionally surfaces through the blanks.

There's one memory that's real, though. Solid. It's not my vows. It's not my father walking me down the aisle. (Though those are there, just hazy and dream-like). It's our first dance.

It's the lights dimming around the room as the staff cleared the floor, causing the fishbowls full of white roses and LED lights on the tables to wobble like pools of moonlight against dark paneled walls.

It's the band inviting us out onto the floor and us giggling because we know what's coming next, and no one else does. It's the twang of a banjo reverberating around the room through the speakers, followed by the dulcet tones of Kermit the Frog wondering why there are so many songs about rainbows.

It's us waltzing around the enclosed circle of light, singing to each other out of tune and grinning like idiots as everyone around us starts to laugh.

It's everyone joining in on the song because it's the Muppets, and everyone knows the words. It's 100+ people singing the Rainbow Connection, some laughing, some a bit tearful, because it's bringing back memories. Because it's making a new one.

It's looking up at my new husband through the brain fog and all the pain in my body and thinking, "I want to remember this moment forever."

I don't know what entity was out there listening to me at that moment and chose to grant that wish. I don't know why this is the one memory that stuck while everything else in my brain got decimated into scattered, fragmented snapshots. But I'm so, so thankful it is.

Though, I could have done without it randomly coming on my YouTube music out of nowhere to hit me in the emotions like a brick to the back of the head. Jesus Christ.

#chronic health tag #trauma and recovery #memory loss #happy memories #note to self: do not forget

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yabakuboi · 1 month

Text

Steve watched Eddie's van turn the corner and shut the front door, closing himself away from the outside world so none of his neighbors could see him as he rested his forehead against the painted wood.

"I'm not going to cry," he told himself.

He said it even as his eyes began to burn and his face began to twist, teeth grinding and throat closing. He wiped quickly at his face, again and again, as he stumbled to the couch to sit, drying each tear as it rolled down his cheeks, clinging to his jaw.

"I'm not going to fucking cry," Steve choked, and then doubled over into himself, arms around his thighs, and he began to sob.

So what if he was twenty-two, living in his parent's house alone, working the same dead-end job with a sixteen year old manager. So what if all his friends and family were in college, spread out from New York to Chicago to Los Angeles. So what if his boyfriend was moving to Seattle for his band and they broke up, because Steve was never going to be his parents, resenting and being resented for keeping his partner from his dreams. So what if he was too scared to ask Eddie to stay, to ask Eddie if Steve could go with him. So what if everyone moved on and Steve couldn't?

Steve grew up lonely. He could get used to it again.

He didn't realize how hard he was crying until the front door burst back open and Eddie hurled himself at Steve's feet, long limbed and clumsy and babbling.

"Baby, oh fuck, I'm sorry," he said, already untangling Steve from himself, tying all his loose ends back up together with his until they were a knot of their own. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Stevie. I never should have— I wanted to—"

"I'm sorry," Steve sobbed back. He gasped and swallowed it all back down. Eddie had already gotten them raveled up again, it would take forever to pick it back apart. Steve knew it would hurt worse this time. "Fuck, Ed, you didn't have to— I'll be okay, I don't want to hold you back—"

"Come with me," Eddie burst.

And Steve couldn't help himself, and began to sob again.

"Please," Eddie begged over Steve's crying, his voice shaking and his face wet enough to match Steve's. "Please, sweetheart, honey, please just come with me?"

Steve took a shaky breath, embarrassed and now too full of hope and fear. "You sure?" he whispered. He pressed his face into Eddie's neck, breathing him in again for what might be the last time, again. "Eddie, don't—"

"I'm so sure," Eddie said. "I'm so fucking sure, Steve, please."

"Okay," Steve breathed. Eddie had always been the braver of the two of them, especially when it counted. Steve leaned back so he could look at him, red faced and watery eyes. He tried to give Eddie a smile, but he knew it was wobbly and weak. "Okay."

All of Steve's fears meant nothing as he watched the happiness break like dawn over Eddie's face.

#steddie #my fic #shush mal #something something once again about eddie being the bravest when it comes to love something something #anyways they pack steve's shit that night and leave early the next morning to make up for eddie's lost time to get to wherever he's going #and they live happily ever after amen

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mushies-stories · 1 month

Text

Drinking- how TF141 handles a clingy drunk reader for the first time

PART ONE- Price and Soap

PART TWO- Ghost and Gaz

F!Reader

Warnings: drunk reader, little tiny bit suggestive... think that's it?

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle had gotten off work a bit early, the mission going faster than expected but just as tiring. The only thing on his mind was seeing you, he needed to feel your soft body against his.

He called you from his car, figuring it was early enough and you'd still be awake. He was correct, but when you answered the phone you didn't sound like your usual self. Your words are slow and a little slurred. “Baby, ya okay?” he asks.

You hum a response. “M’okay, just been drinking a little.” you tell him.

“Sounds like it, you alone at home love?” he asks, a little nervous. It wasn't like you to get drunk by yourself, or really that often at all actually.

“Yeah… but could you come over, please.” your voice was a little shaky and it twisted something in Kyle's gut.

“Of course lovie. Be there in just a bit, eh?” he tells you. His drive was faster than normal, you sounded off and it worried him. His only thought was to get to you and the elevator ride up to your flat seemed endless.

When you entered he saw you sitting on the couch, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, glass of red wine and an almost empty bottle next to it.

Your head turned when you heard his steps and the sound of his shoes being kicked off. “Kyle.” you say quietly. Standing you shed the blanket and take a few shaky steps towards him.

He rushed to meet you, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you against himself. Your own arms wrap around his middle, gripping the back of his shirt. “What's wrong love, why ya crying?” he asks, voice tender and soft. His warm eyes looking over your tear stained cheeks before wiping a tear away.

You give him a small shrug. “I'm just so tired, and work was stressful. I just wanted to relax a little and I knew you are normally at the base late...” you admit.

Kyle hums softly before kissing the top of your head. “Well, drinking is no way to feel better, right lovie?” he asks, making sure you look at him by guiding your face to look at his. “Next time, just let me know, be over as soon as i can.” he tells you.

You give him a small smile. “I will, I'm sorry I know I was overreacting.”

“None of that love, let's just get ya to bed.” he says with a sweet smile. You lean into his touch and nod.

He figured after such a stressful day you should take a hot bath. Topped with some essential oils he found it was ready. You both relax in the warm water. Kyle behind you so you can rest your head on his chest.

“Thank you kyle.” you mumble. Eyes closed and soldering his arms around you, you sigh constantly. “I love you.” you add, a little slower and sleepier.

Kyle smiles down at you. Perfectly content in his arms, just as he wanted. Here to keep you safe and happy. “Anything for your lovie, I love ya too.” he says. Just above a whisper, the last coherent words you heard before drifting off.

When you had dozed off Kyle gathered your body in his arms and brought you to bed then wrapped you in a fluffy towel. The whole time you barely even stirred in your sleep. He crawled in next to you and wrapped you in his arms once again, this time pulling your head to his chest, arm holding you back so your firm against him.

He kisses your nose. “Goodnight love.” he says. That night you both slept soundly. Kyle happily content with your bare body against his own.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

Simon had called after getting back from a long mission, wanting to see you instead of going home alone. All he needed at the moment was your arms wrapped around him.

To his delight you had picked up, even in the late hour. To his disappointment however, it sounded like you were out with friends.

That didn't seem to mean much to you. Judging by your excited time when you answered. “Si? You home already?” you ask, smile evident in your tone.

He smiles to himself. “Yeah, sound busy though doll, see ya tomorrow?” he offers.

You make a sound of displeasure. “But I gotta see you tonight Si, please? I'll get an uber right now!” Simon just chuckles and tells you to stay put, he will come and get you.

Not even twenty minutes later and you're in his passenger seat with his hand on your bare thigh and a drunkenly sweet smile plastered across your face. You loved admiring Simon, even with most of his face concealed. Everything about him made you drawn to him.

“See something ya like love?” Simon chuckles and glances over to you. His hand on your thigh squeezes the soft skin.

You nod and giggle. “Always see something I like around you, Si.”

He snorts before paying attention to the road, eyes focus on getting home. You babbled about your night with your friends and he nodded along, humming in response when he needed to agree with you, all the while his hand rests on your warm plush thigh and a small smile plays at his lips.

You were adorable. The way you stared at him the whole time like he was the moon, the way your hands laid atop his and gripped it when you talked.

He loved the attention. From you, and only you that is. Loved that you just wanted to see him, needed too.

When you got back to his place, he carried you in. insisting that the stairs were too much for you and it would be faster. “S’alright love, just let me bring you up. Be much faster.” he explained.

The whole way you kissed at his neck, making sure to lift his mask enough so you could pepper them to his jawline. “Lovie, none of tha. S’to late and you.” he glanced down at you and your blushing cheeks, warm from the alcohol. “Are much too hammered.” he chuckles, stepping into his flat before closing and locking the door.

“But Si… I missed you so much, you were gone for a whole week.” you pout softly up at him after he set you down on his bed.

One of his hands comes out to cradle the side of your head, making you look up at him and hold his gaze. “Don't worry lovie, when your pretty little head is pounding tomorrow, I'll make sure to do everything I can to help you forget about it.” he promises.

I shiver rolls down your back and you smile dumbly up at him, the thought of what to come already turning the little gears in your head. Simon however forces you to push the thoughts aside and get ready for bed instead.

With you in only his shirt, his mask set aside and his protective arm wrapped securely around your middle, you start to drift off. “Love you Simon, can't wait for tomorrow.”

Simon kisses the side of your head. “Love you too doll, can't wait.”

#ghost x reader #gaz x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #john price #price x reader #john price x reader #john mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 #task force 141 #cod #cod x reader #cod imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #tf141 imagine

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luveline · 9 months

Note

Ok what about a lil fic of Remus being snappy with his gf leading up to the full moon? Just some angst and then fluffy ending with them reconciling

thank u for ur request! —remus says something he shouldn't before the full moon, and later campaigns for your forgiveness with affection and a confession. fem!reader, 1.2k

Remus lays on the couch with his forearm pressed to his eyes. It's the day before the full moon, and he feels the hours approaching like a death sentence every time. You hover in the doorway, watching, unsure of how to help. He gets the same every month (or rather, every cycle).

Irritable. So anxious he can't breathe properly, let alone enter conversation.

You hate seeing him like this. Your Remus, who spends every moment you're together trying to make sure you're as happy as you can be.

Cautious, you round the sofa to crouch by his face. You hold out your hand, trailing a gentle fingertip down the length of his arm, tripping over pinched skin ridged by scars. He's beautiful no matter what, but he gets insecure about how he looks every full moon. You know he thinks he's a monster. You've no way to prove it to him beyond this.

"Hey, handsome," you say softly. "I know you're not hungry, but I made dinner anyway if you feel up to it. And I know," —you drop your voice to a near whisper— "I know you're not in the mood, but I'm here. I can sit here and stroke your hair in silence all night if that's what you want, my love. I'll do whatever you want."

"Then leave me alone," he says.

Half snap, half firm defeat. You wince at the ire in his voice. It won't ever be nice to have someone you love speak to you like you're getting on their nerves, but you know what it is he's facing. You know this is hard for him to cope with. You can forgive him for everything if he makes it through this in one piece.

"Okay. I'm sorry. I love you, Remus."

He turns his head toward the sofa cushions.

You leave the room with a heavy heart. In the kitchen, you try to eat, but every mouthful makes you feel sick, your eyes welling with tears as you chew. You're hurt, he's hurting, and this really, really sucks.

The smell of dinner starts to amplify the nausea. You grab your plate and carry it to the back door, scraping your leftovers straight into the rubbish. You wash your plate and leave it to drip dry on the draining board, your eyes burning. You sniff, wiping your nose in your sleeve.

You're hoping desperately that Remus will come around before bed, but he stays where he is. Thinking he's finally found sleep and wanting to leave him to that blissful reprieve, you creep through the living room and down the hallway into the bedroom. Tears fall as you change into your pyjamas. You're so tired that you barely have time to cry yourself to sleep.

You're not sure how much longer it is when you wake. A familiar hand cups your cheek.

From the warmth of your skin, he's had his hand there for a while.

"I'm so sorry," Remus says.

You don't know how he knows you're awake. He must have been watching you long enough to spot the difference. Honestly, you're not sure you want to see him yet, because you love him so much, and it breaks your heart to be at the end of his disdain even when you know the cause.

You struggle to see him in the dark.

"I should never have spoken to you like that."

Your eyes close of their own accord, exhausted and sore from crying. "You didn't mean it."

"I wish you'd shout at me," he murmurs, sliding his hand over your ear. His thumb draws along the shell of your ear.

"I'm too tired," you mumble.

Remus' head shifts closer to yours. Sharing the same pillow, his hand falls to your shoulder, his arm wrapping around you, a firm bicep pressed to your front.

You let yourself lean into it. His breath warms the space between your brows.

"It's no excuse, but I… I can't think of anything else but the pain, sometimes. I get so angry about it, because I'm–" He stops short, swallowing audibly in the otherwise silent room. "I'm scared. But I would be a hundred times more terrified if I didn't have you, knowing you're there for me, unflinchingly, before and after it happens, it helps me get through it. It's not fair that you give me so much peace and I just…

"I'm sorry, dove. I don't mean to take advantage of your… heart." He says heart like he's been winded. He hadn't sounded finished, but everything stops at that word.

You force your eyes open. He's looking at you with an unspeakable amount of love, kind to keel you over if you were standing. His eyes are pitch black in the lack of light, irises melded with pupils, giving him an even sorrier gaze. You raise a sluggish hand to his where it rests behind your back and pull it back to your face. You miss his touch.

"I love you," you say.

"I know," he says, his jaw tensing in an attempt to stage off tears. "I love you, too." You watch them collect in the corners of his eyes, following one as it slides to rest in the dip of his nose bridge while he lies on his side like this.

"So don't be sorry."

"But I am sorry. I can't fathom why I think it's okay to treat you that way."

"You don't think at all, Remus. I'm not being flippant, but you're busy worrying about the worst of it." You shake your head gently. His hand twitches against your cheek. "I don't blame you."

"I know," he utters.

You stare up at him as he sits enough to tower over you. His smile is sorry, in love and ashamed. You want to tell him how it doesn't matter, that it's okay, but you're thinking maybe you need him to say it first.

"I'm sorry."

"Remus, you only told me to leave you alone."

"I need you to know that any other time, you're all that I want. You're everything. I couldn't ask for more than you. Please don't think I'm cruel," he pleads in a whisper.

You lift your chin incrementally. "I'd never think that."

His apology kiss is coddling. Like he's worried he'll hurt you, like he's holding back, he kisses you like you can't handle more than a chaste press of the lips.

"I love you," he says into it.

You lift your head to kiss him harder. You love him, and you won't break. You can be exactly as strong as he needs you to be, so long as love waits at the end of the night.

"I love you." A huff of a laugh escapes him. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?" Caution has his joke falling flat.

You nuzzle your cheek against his, knowing you'd forgiven him just as soon as he'd snapped. "If you let me stroke your hair. Did you eat your dinner?"

"I'll eat it tomorrow," he says. A white lie, you both know, but he slides down further under the sheets so you can reach his head.

You card your fingers through his hair until you've both fallen asleep.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

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seventeenpins · 2 months

Text

a slight miscalculation - pt. i

pairing: Joel x F!Reader

word count: 8.3k

summary: Sarah is off to college, and Joel is about to be living in an empty nest. They road trip out together, and as she spends her first night in her new apartment, he's staying in a nearby hotel. Letting go of his inhibitions for the first time in a long time, he tumbles into a one night stand that becomes very complicated, very quickly.

content/warnings: smut, age gap, mycologist!reader, dick sucking, implied pussy eating, fingering, no outbreak au, reader likes to hike, reader also infodumps, joel miller has a big cock, he also has anxiety, reader has anxiety too, and a cat, reader is in early 20s--exact age not established, one (1) use of daddy, alcohol and weed consumption, joel is a diligent condom wearer, set in present day, discussion of girl scout cookies, joel is sweet and soft and hasn't been eviscerated by the death of his daughter

a/n: I'm intending this to be about five parts. This may change, but right now it's looking like five. I've been struggling to write for a while, unable to focus, but I think I'm back at it? as always, your feedback is hugely appreciated, and i'm kissing all likers and commenters and rebloggers deeply and with tongue 🩷

check out pt. ii

For the first time in nineteen years, Joel is completely adrift. Sarah's starting college in just two months.

It's the kind of realization that hits him like a bucket of ice water, a sudden shock and then an unpleasant trickling of anxiety wrapping about him in nasty tendrils. And then he feels guilty, because he's so, so happy for Sarah because he knows that she's thrilled, but fuck she's gonna be two time zones away and now what's Joel meant to do on Thursday movie nights when he's here without her?

It's terrifying, and it's new. And it's not that he's new to anxiety. He's usually anxious, and he has the Sertraline on his bedside stand to prove it. But if his general anxiety baseline usually hovered around a 6.4, where he was at now far surpassed a 10. It felt exponential, and totally exhausting.

When he voices his fears to Tommy, to Joel's horror, Tommy just doubles over in laughter.

"Jesus, Joel," he wheezes, wiping fake tears from his eyes in exaggerated movements, "You looked so serious I thought you were gonna say you'd killed someone."

Joel scowls. "The fuck you laughing for?"

"She's going to college, it's not like she's dying!"

"How'm I gonna be there for her? What if she needs me? What if-"

"Joel-," Tommy pats him gently on the shoulder, "She can always call you, and you can always call her. And we both know she's got a good head on 'er shoulders."

Joel snorts in concession. "Yeah, yeah. Better than yours and mine put together, and then some."

"Exactly." Tommy agrees, "And if there's ever anything that really goes wrong, you got me. We can drive out together and make sure she's okay."

Joel nods and feels the tiniest bit of tension leave him. One step at a time.

Just over nineteen years ago he found out he was about to be a dad. Suddenly, he had a purpose. Having a kid at twenty-two wasn't something he'd ever intended, but somehow he knew he loved his baby girl from the moment he knew she was a possibility. He spent a solid seven months running around, hustling, doing everything he could to get the very best for his kid. He'd take on doubles, working himself to the bone to make sure they had the best crib, and the best stroller, too. He was thrilled and terrified and so, so green.

Now, his heart feels so big he doesn't know how to handle it. His baby girl is an honest-to-god adult, moving out and going to college, and he has no idea what he's gonna do with his time now.

He has work, of course. But beyond that? He's really gotta to widen his circle, he realises, because who's he gonna hang out with? His brother?

He'd only just turned forty-one and had absolutely not come to terms with an empty nest--the few friends from high school he'd kept in touch with were so much further behind than him. The ones that had kids had them later in their twenties and thirties, and now they're raising middle schoolers while Joel's kid is a real fucking person, leaving home and everything. All the scrapping and saving he'd been doing since before Sarah was born–for his little girl to be able to follow any dream she chose–it was finally paying off. The precocious young woman she is, she graduated early and spent nearly a year working retail to save up some cash. She'd applied to colleges all across the country, and a few international ones, too. Joel had been crossing his fingers for months, hoping she'd choose something near Austin, but cheered with her all the same when she got her acceptance letter from Oregon State University. The previous summer, just before she'd started her applications, she and Joel and Tommy spent a miserable, wonderful week hiking round the Pacific Northwest. She fell in love with it, and the university offered a few of the majors she wanted to consider.

Joel didn't know what he'd do with his baby girl so far away, his life, his reason, but he sure as hell wasn't gonna tell her that. He will not clip her wings. His baby's gonna change the world and he's not gonna hold her back. He is, though, gonna require regular phone calls and check-ins and god they grow up so fast.

"Y'all should road trip out there," Tommy suggests one night over the dinner table.

Joel knew the conversation of how Sarah would get to the West Coast would come up, and it oughta be sooner rather than later. He was half afraid that she wanted to head out on her own, that she didn't need her dad anymore. Worried she would say she wanted to get a plane ticket, or take the Amtrak all the way to Corvallis. But he knows he needs to loosen his grip a little, so he braces himself when he turns to her.

"What'dya think, Sarah? You wanna be stuck in a car with your old man for a cross-country trip?"

Sarah rolls her eyes, but her face breaks into a grin. "Can we, Dad?"

This was too good to be true, he knew, but he wasn't gonna give up one last opportunity to spend some time with his girl till winter break.

"Course, baby," he tells her, and that flicker of anxiety quells just the tiniest bit.

The next few weeks fly by, and the knot of anxiety in Joel's chest feels like it's consuming him from the inside out. He's taken some time off, more than Sarah or Tommy can remember, but he's constantly trying to suggest ideas for activities to Sarah. For the most part, she's a good sport, understanding how much it means to her dad. She took pity on him, and let him drag her to places that ideally she would've gone to when she was little, but she humored him and he appreciated her dedication. He did his best to step back when she was heading out to spend time with friends--her time here was limited, after all, and she was always a social butterfly.

There are five weeks till classes start, four weeks, three, two, and in the blink of an eye, they're loading up the truck with all of Sarah's things, and Tommy is hugging Sarah goodbye, teary eyed. He gives Joel a hug, too. Joel would never admit it, but fuck he had really needed that hug.

They would take the scenic route. Make a memorable trip of it. Joel would make sure she settles in safe and sound, and then he'd head home.

6am Sunday.

You wake with a start. It's just over a week before term starts and your entire body aches. Fuck, you think to yourself, definitely overdid it with that last hike.

(The hiking part wasn't itself a problem, but one of the trails had washed out. You thought you'd found your way, but the "easy" three and a half mile hike took about five hours, leaving your calves bruised and your heels blistered.)

You roll over in your hotel room bed and, at the sound of a slight yelp followed by a gentle thud, realise with a sudden start that you just catapulted your cat off the corner.

"Shit, sorry goblin," you tell Spatula, who glares up at you with disdain as he licks at his paw. You reach down and, despite your inadvertent cat launch, he immediately rubs up against your fingertips and lets you scratch behind his ears.

"I'm sorry, baby," you soothe.

He meows, loudly. Howls, really. You take it as an apology accepted.

You sit up properly and look at your phone calendar. Nothing immediate. You don't need to get keys to your new apartment till tomorrow, nor do you meet your roommates till then–they're both moving in today, and moving is already horrible without having to navigate around the belongings of two other people. No, thanks. You can afford one more night at the hotel, and it'll make everything go that little bit more smoothly tomorrow. Besides, you have a bit of reading you'd like to get through, maybe stock up on non-perishables till you have a full-sized fridge, and get to know the city just a little.

You move gingerly, testing the ache in your muscles as you unfold yourself from the position you've been sat in and pull yourself from the bed. It hurts, but not something that won't be fixed with a little movement.

A plan forms. First, a walk, to try and loosen up your tight muscles. Then, errands. You have a whole list, with everything categorised by store, but then you enter IKEA and exit fifteen minutes later, only to find that five and a half hours have passed and it's evening now.

How was it that IKEA harnessed such a malicious power. How could anything harness that?

You need a fucking break. And a goddamn drink.

"Hey Dad," Sarah calls from the adjacent bedroom as Joel sweats, hauling another box towards her. The drive has been good, but it has been long. His legs ache. His back aches. There are parts of him that he didn't know existed that now ache.

"Yeah?" he calls back.

"Are you sure you're okay with me staying here tonight?"

Joel lets out a breath. He wants to be okay with it. And there's no way his nineteen year old would want to hang out with her dad when she could be spending the very first night in her brand new apartment. But he also wishes she wanted to spend one last night, hanging out in a hotel room with her dad. They could watch shitty movies together. Make the most of the final night before this cataclysmic shift.

But no.

That'd just be him being selfish. He can handle a night by himself. He's gotta handle a whole lotta them soon enough.

"O'course baby," he nods, hoping the smile he's plastered on his face looks totally genuine. "But we're still doin' breakfast in the morning, right?"

She nods, vigorous, and then waves her phone around. "I was looking up places! There's a diner called Tommy's," she laughs, "Wanna try that? 9:30?"

"Let's do it," he smiles, and this one is a little less forced.

"How much more do we have?" Sarah asks, nodding towards the box Joel's still holding.

"Last box," he grunts, "What else can I help with?"

He places the box down and lets out a slight, almost silent whimper. Sarah catches it, though.

"Maybe you should take it easy the rest of the day, Dad," she tells him, "We both know you have old man back."

He rolls his eyes but nods. "Guess you're right," he shrugs, "That my cue to take off?"

Sarah blushes but turns to him sheepishly. "Yeah, I-"

"No need to explain," Joel assures, "I know you must wanna get unpacked and settle in, get to know your roommates an' all."

She jumps up and, almost startling him, wraps her arms around him in a bear hug.

"Love you, dad," she grins, and she squeezes just a little tighter than usual.

He squeezes back, and they both pretend there aren't tears in his eyes.

As you step through the doors of the hotel bar, you decide you like it. The lighting is comfortably low. It's not loud, but it's not quiet, either. Colorful bottles line the shelves, the light of the filament bulbs glinting off the glass in rainbow prisms.

You take a seat at the bar and give a nod of thanks as the bartender passes you a small menu. It's unsurprisingly extortionate, hotel bar and all, but it'll do.

"Old fashioned, please," you tell the bartender, who nods in response. A minute later, he hands you a glass, delivered with a twist of orange and a cherry on top.

With your first sip, you feel your shoulders start to relax and some of the tension loosen from your body. The warmth of the burn envelops you and your stress starts to unravel, leaving only the buzz feeling good.

You order a second, and as the glass is handed to you, a voice to your right catches your attention.

"This seat taken?" a man asks.

You shake your head and offer a quick smile, gesturing towards it, "All yours."

"Much obliged," he nods, and slips into the backless stool next to yours.

The bartender comes over and passes him the same menu, but without looking at it he asks, "Could I get an old fashioned?"

You smile and catch his eye, tipping your glass towards him. "An excellent choice," you praise, "Though if you don't have a sweet tooth, I'd recommend asking Jeff there if he can go easy on the simple syrup."

"Oh yeah?" He asks, and then he leans in conspiratorially. "T'tell you the truth, I do have a bit of a sweet tooth."

You raise an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Suddenly, he breaks into a grin and it's dazzling.

"Yeah," he laughs, "I've got cookies stashed in secret locations all through my house."

You raise an eyebrow. "If I keep 'em in my pantry, my brother'll find 'em and eat 'em all," he explains, "But ever since my kid was a girl scout, I always get cravings for girl scout cookies, so I buy an armful o'boxes and try and preserve 'em throughout the year, till I can replenish."

"What's your favorite girl scout cookie?"

"Caramel deLites, hands down."

"Oh yeah?"

"Absolutely," he nods.

The bartender, Jeff, sets the man's drink down with a clink. You catch one another's eye and both erupt into a fit of laughter.

You're not even sure what's funny. Maybe it's just been a long day? Maybe the whiskey was getting to you?

Whatever it is, it feels good.

The man takes a sip of his drink and lets out an aaaahh and it's goofy and charming and then he extends his hand.

"Joel," he tells you, "Joel Miller". You shake his hand, introduce yourself, and then take a sip of your own drink.

"So, tell me about yourself," you smile, "You coming from out of town?"

"Yes ma'am," he nods, "Come up here from Austin."

"Texas?"

Joel nods.

"That's a long trip."

"Yeah," he laughs, "It really is."

"So, you're a nice Southern boy, huh?"

"Well," he swishes his glass and tries to bite back a smile, "I don't know that I'd go quite so far, but my mama did raise me to be a gentleman."

"That so?" you ask and his blush deepens.

"I... have been known to get up to some trouble, but I like to think I've mellowed in my old age." He gestures at the beautiful little smatterings of silver at his temples, and you cackle.

"Okay, that's hot," you tell him and he chokes, but you keep going, "Old age, though? What are you, like, forty?"

He exhales, chagrined. "Forty-one."

You roll your eyes. "That ain't old."

"It feels it sometimes," he smiles, "My kid is grown. My little brother's married with a kid of his own on the way. My back hurts, pretty much all the time."

You snort. You also notice, without trying to look, that he doesn't have a wedding band. Doesn't have a tan line for one, either. Interesting.

"But more than that," he continues, "I guess I feel- I don't know. A little... aimless?"

"Yeah," you nod, and you let the moment sit. "I get that."

He lets out a little breath, and then turns back to you, focused.

"What about you? Where're you from?"

"Oof," you exhale, "All over. Spent a bit of time on the East coast. The Midwest. Lived a few months in the South, even," you tease as you bump your shoulder into his and he laughs. It's a surprisingly familiar gesture, but miraculously comfortable.

"Ever make it to Texas?"

"Naw," you shake your head, "My time in the South was all in Mississippi. After that I moved out to California, and I've been slowly working my way up the West Coast."

"And what have you been enjoying about the West Coast?" Joel asks.

"The mushrooms," you grin, and Joel frowns.

"Like, the kind you get in a little baggy from the dealer down the street, or-?"

"No," you laugh, "Or, well- Okay, sometimes. Gotta say it is great out here for that, too. But I mean fungus as a whole--mushrooms, mold, yeast, lichen. But I'm most interested in mushrooms. They're just really fuckin' cool, and there's so much we don't understand about them. And, they're delicious."

"Huh," Joel ponders, "T'tell you the truth, I've never thought much about mushrooms, besides enjoying 'em as a pizza topping."

"Most people don't," you agree, "But fuck, like-- Okay, so we know there are over five million types of fungi on Earth, but we've identified less than two percent of them. Some fungus aids decomposition. Some fungus is bioluminescent. Some are known worldwide for their delicious flavours, and others are known by the slow, horrible ways they kill you."

Joel raises his eyebrows, and suddenly you feel a little self conscious.

"Sorry, I do this," you laugh, rubbing at the back of your neck, "I get very excited about fungus and manage to alienate everyone around me."

You half expect him to stand up and walk away.

Instead, though, he leans in closer. "Don't apologise," he tells you, "I'm learning something new. Tell me more?"

"No, I should stop. Otherwise I'll never stop talking," you wince.

"How about just one more fungus fact?"

You sit for a minute, pondering. "This is- well, I guess this is one of the reasons I find fungus so fascinating. So, fungus can't photosynthesise the way that plants do--they can't produce their own food from sunshine, and water, and carbon dioxide. Instead, their mycelium-- they're these thread-like networks--they branch out beneath the earth, seeking out food, growing in the direction where it can find the nutrients it needs and breaking down organic material all around them, sometimes living organisms, as a parasite, and sometimes dead organisms as a decomposer, or both. And it's just- It's this hidden world, that exists right beneath the surface even in some of the extreme places on earth, temperature-wise. And most days, we don't even think about it."

You punctuate your thought with a large swallow of your drink, which is half-watered down now that the ice is melted, and doesn't hit quite as hard as you'd hoped, but then you look up at Joel and he's smiling at you, pensive, and--

"That's- That's actually really interesting."

Before you can respond, though, Joel glances at his watch and balks. It is getting late. "Shit," he shakes his head, "I think I oughta call it a night," he says, pulling back. "Early morning tomorrow, and if I stay at the bar I'll just keep drinkin'."

Fuck. That's a dismissal. Of course you went on too much about mushrooms. You'd fucked this up. You'd thought this was going well, but now it felt like a bucket of cold water was dumped over you. "Oh," you nod, matching his posture, and try to swallow down the sudden wave of disappointment. "Of course. Have a good night, Joel."

Joel stands up and then looks you up and down, considering. It's not brazen, but it isn't shy, either. And then understanding flashes across his face.

"Wait- Sorry, that's not how I meant it." He reaches out towards you and you melt into his touch. "I'm messin' this up." He chuckles, but it sounds pained. "Now look, I don't wanna make any presumptions. And I'm really hopin' I'm not coming off as some--dirty old man. Jesus, I haven't done this in a while. But I'm in room 308."

Your eyebrows shoot up. What you'd taken for disinterest was just--nerves?

"I reckon I'll be awake for a while yet. You're welcome to... drop by."

The disappointment melts, making way for a fluttering in your stomach.

"Twenty minutes," you assure him, "308?"

He nods and he brakes into a sheepish grin, shedding what you now realise had been something of an anxious wince. "308."

You watch him leave. When he's out of sight, you toss back the rest of your watery drink and go to pay your tab, but Jeff tells you it was already settled. You thank him and tuck your shaking hands in your pockets. You feel an electricity running through you as you take the elevator up.

When you get back to your room, you hop into the shower, just to freshen up--you keep your hair dry but scrub your body. Once you're clean, you brush your teeth.

Stepping back out of the en suite, you survey the hotel room. Spatula is lounging on the corner of the bed, entirely uninterested in your movements. You top up his dry food bowl and place a kiss between his ears before slipping out.

When you knock at Joel's door, you hear a slight rustle and clatter and then the door swings open, Joel's staring a little wide-eyed, like he didn't actually expect you to show. He's wearing grey sweats and a Johnny Cash t-shirt that looks like it's been around nearly as long as you have. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, an anxious tell that's desperately endearing.

"C'mon in," he smiles, and you step in, closing the door behind you.

You reach out to cup his face, delighting in the feeling of coarse stubble beneath your fingertips. Your first kiss is chaste. You both lean forward and press your lips to one another gently, exploring.

Then, you let out a little moan and Joel shudders. Heat surges between you, and his hands are cradling your head and brushing your cheek and he's pinning you against the closed door. You're kissing again, nothing chaste remaining, learning the taste of him, his rhythm, the crashing waves of give and take between you.

You wrap one leg around him and smirk when he lets out a throaty groan as you grind against his hard cock. You're pretty sure he's not wearing underwear, the thick bulge seemingly unconstrained in his grey sweats, the whole length pressing against your thigh.

Your head falls back and you let out soft, breathy noises as his lips trace along your collarbone, up your throat, and against that tender little spot behind your ear. When he puts your earlobe between his lips and presses his teeth gently against the skin, your knees go weak and he chuckles, strong arms wrapping around you, holding you up.

"Bed?" he asks, and you breathe yes and then, with a yelp and a throaty chuckle, you're lifted up and spun around and both tumbling into the duvet.

You're grasping at each other, desperate to keep your hands on one another. The only times you part is when you undress, and even then, you're helping each other--pulling the hem of his shirt over his lifted arms, pressing into him as he reaches around and moves to unhook your bra, but then he realises you're not wearing one and lets out a groan, his thumbs brushing alongside the tender skin along your ribs, moving gently as if to cup your breasts, but then he pulls back.

Normally you might wait, do this part slowly, draw out the tease just a little bit longer.

Tonight, though, you're ravenous.

As you fiddle with the buttons of your pants, you tug at the drawstring keeping Joel's sweats on his hips. The bow comes loose in one smooth motion, and he lifts his hips and you pull the sweats down.

Your mouth immediately waters seeing him bare, laid out for you. You watch a bead of precum drip down the head and pool on his belly. The coarse hair of his happy trail glistens with it. He's thick, uncut, and looks painfully hard, his cock head ruddy. "Fuck, you're beautiful," you tell him, and his cheeks redden but he grins. It's boyish, the way he grins, and devastatingly charming.

And, what you're saying is true. His body is gorgeous, something you wish you could sketch. Soft flesh over hard muscle, visible tan lines where his chest and shoulders are noticeably lighter than his arms. The muscles and veins along his throat are driving you absolutely fucking insane as he swallows and looks up at you.

He's got freckles on his shoulders, too, and without thinking, you lower yourself down to kiss at his shoulder. He shakes, just a little, and lets out the most beautiful gasp. It's addictive, pulling these noises from him. You follow the curve of him, giving him a taste of his own medicine--tracing feather-light kisses along his collarbone, up the tendons of his neck, behind his ear. You can feel the blood pulse in his veins as your lips brush along him. Joel goes from panting lightly to full on groaning, rutting his hips up towards you and, frustrated, meeting only air.

"Can I taste you?", you ask, and Joel lets out a half-strangled sound and nods, vigorous.

You scoot back, lower yourself, poke out your tongue and, without any preamble, lick at the slit of his head, tasting the salty, tangy precum.

Joel tips his head back and groans and you decide to be kind. You grasp onto his hips and take him in your mouth, slowly sinking down, inch by inch by inch and now you can feel him at the back of your throat, your saliva dripping down the shaft and collecting in the hair between his thighs.

You bob your head up and down, taking him deeper with each thrust, but your throat is full and there are still inches to go. You relax, doing everything you can to take him deeper, and he starts to thrust up gently.

You let him fuck into your mouth but release one of his hips, allowing him to move as freely as he needs and freeing up your hand, which you shove into your underwear, rubbing furiously at your clit.

It doesn't take much to lose yourself in it, to focus only on the sensation. You're so wet, slick coating your fingers, making the glide that much smoother as you touch yourself. Joel tastes so good, too, the intrusion of his cock the most delicious thing, feeling the way he shudders when you moan, the way he moans when you shudder.

"Fuck-" Joel gasps, and then there's a hand guiding you gently off of him.

You raise an eyebrow. "You okay?"

He swallows, hard, and nods. "More than okay. Felt too fuckin' good."

"Oh yeah?" and you lean down, as if to take him back in your mouth, but he chuckles and pulls you back again.

"It's been... a while. For me. And-" He drags his palm down his face, wearing an almost pained expression. "Christ, you just look too fuckin' good down there, mouth stretched 'round me while you touch yourself. An' it feels too fuckin' good, too. I ain't ready for this to be over yet but if you keep lettin' me fuck your throat like that it's gonna be over real quick. And I wanna feel that pretty pussy myself."

You sit back up and he pulls you towards him so you're straddling him.

"You gonna fuck me, Joel?"

"Yes," he breathes, "Yes, baby, please-"

You do an awkward wobble and then stand up, shedding your pants and letting your panties drop, stepping out of them, one foot and then the other, and the way he's watching you is addictive. He watches you with beautiful eyes, drinking all of you in, and suddenly the moment has changed into one of those quiet, intimate moments where you both exhale a laugh.

You straddle him again, and lean down to kiss him, and the electric current surges up. He grabs you by the jaw, meeting your desperation. His lips on yours are exactly the balm you need and you can taste the whiskey on his breath.

"Feels fucking good," you tell Joel as you slide up and down his length. He's not penetrating you, not yet, but the lips of your pussy are spread and you're gliding along him, feeling his head at your clit and thrusting back till you're nearly seated on his balls.

He watches you, nearly unblinking, drinking it all in. Then, he lets out a groan, and half-sits up, suddenly focused.

"Shit," he closes his eyes in frustration, "I don't have any condoms. Shit shit shit-"

You push him back down and kiss him again. Then, you hop off the bed and sift around in your jean pockets.

"Ah-ha!," you exclaim, once you've found your treasure. Joel raises and eyebrow and you wink. "Saw they were selling them in the lobby. Figured it might be a good idea."

"Shit," Joel laughs, and presses his lips just to the side of your mouth. "Clever girl," he tells you, and a shiver goes up your spine.

He leans to help, but you shoo him away and he watches, entranced, as you neatly open the condom wrapper and, with a small amount of difficulty, roll it down his cock.

"Feeling okay?" You ask him, "Shit, I shoulda gotten the Magnums. Is your dick okay? It's not being choked to death by an inappropriately sized rubber, is it?"

Joel snorts. "We'll manage," he says, and then he grips you by the hips, lines himself up. He draws his knuckles along your cunt and groans, "Fuck, so goddamn wet for me-" and, the moment you look at him and nod, he holds the head of his cock against your drooling lips and presses into you.

It's a big stretch as he lowers you down onto him, the intrusion almost painful, but before you can even take a breath, it melts into absolute pleasure. You've fucked people with longer cocks before, and you've fucked people with girthier cocks before, but never have you fucked someone with a cock that's both this long and thick and it feels like you're being split in two and it's perfect and you realise, with a sudden flip of your stomach, he isn't even fully seated inside you yet.

Then, you manage to focus on the words Joel is saying-that had really just been background noise for the past ten seconds or so-and suddenly you're tuning back in for "Tha's it," his voice low and hoarse, surprisingly gentle, "Good girl, takin' this cock so well, look at you."

His brow is furrowed and he's looking at you with such dark eyes, nearly black, the pupils are so blown. "Just a little more, that's it, just one more inch, you can do it, christ, look at you, takin' all of me."

His tone is reverent and it sets a fire through you. You can feel more slickness build and drip out of you, and from the way he moans, you're certain he can feel it too despite the condom.

"So fuckin' wet," he groans, "Soakin' my cock- grippin' me so nice-Fuck--"

He leans towards you and cradles your head in his hand, kissing you hard.

When you both pull back, you know your lips must be kiss swollen and red. His are--they're soft and bright, and you want to eat him whole.

"You're gonna be the death of me, woman."

He's thrusting into you lazily, holding you in place, but you need more, you need all of him.

You push forward and move his hand from your waist to your clit. As you manoeuvre him, his nostrils flare, and you'd wonder if he was angry, if not for the way you felt his cock stiffen even further inside of you. You start to move your hips, to rub up against the thumb on your clit, and to feel every fucking inch of him.

Urged on by the way he groans, you start to ride him, properly. Holding each other close, you fuck down onto him and he leans back, awed.

"Enjoying the show?" you ask.

"Damn- right- I- am-," Joel breathes, every word punctuated with a shuddering breath after you drive back down onto his cock, "Jesus- you- look- so- good- like- that."

You like being watched. Being admired. It sent an extra thrill through you, and your hips stutter, just a little, and now you're following a new, faster rhythm.

"Fuck, that's it, baby-" he praises, "Shit, yes- bounce on it."

You lean forward and kiss his throat, and then he makes this noise, half-strangled and beautiful.

"Shit, honey-- honey, honey, hold on-," he holds you still and you're glad he has, because your brain hadn't quite processed his words.

He's looking at you so earnestly.

"Baby, if you keep ridin' me like this I am gonna blow my load in the next twenty seconds and I don't wanna end this quite so soon."

You hum, a moment of consideration. You stare into his eyes, and part of it is calculated seduction, but another part is getting genuinely lost in the way he looks at you. The crinkles round his eyes. The way he seems able to focus on you, in a way that feels as frightening as it is exhilarating.

"How about this," You smile, "You get yours, and then you can eat me out till I get mine. And if you're ready to go again by the time I've come, we can see where we're at then. Hmm?"

You see a bead of sweat trickle down his temple, and take a moment to appreciate how much he's clearly trying to control himself.

After a moments of avoiding your eye, he looks at you again and he looks utterly wrecked. "You- talkin' like that?" He shakes his head and tries to even his breath. "Fuck, I nearly came right there."

"It's okay," you soothe, and you cup his jaw and resume you movements, riding him like you had before. "You can come if you need to-" your fingertips stroke the stubble of his chin, "You're close, huh? It's okay, daddy, you can let go."

Joel lets out a strangled noise and busts immediately.

You savor the way it feels, the pulse of his cock as he spills into you. No, into the condom, you correct yourself, but you can always pretend-

After his balls relax and you can feel him start to get soft, you hold the condom down as you pull yourself off, and you're nearly unseated when there's a sudden squelch noise that sends you both into tumbles of laughter.

It takes a while to calm down, and you find yourselves heaving, tangled in the sheets, and wrapped up in each other. The condom is hanging limply on Joel's now-soft cock and it's oddly cold and gooey as you accidentally roll against it, and that sends you both off again.

"Fuck," Joel snorts, and tugs at the condom, starting to roll it off his length, "I'd almost forgotten the weird texture of a used condom. Fuckin'... Slug-like."

"That-" you declare, "Is visceral. And I hate it. Thanks."

He snorts, and you suddenly have a question.

"Condoms not making too many appearances in your life?"

"Not many, no."

"What, you usually fuck raw?"

"Just haven't been sleepin' with anyone," he shrugs, nonplussed.

"Well, I gotta say, the good people of Austin have been missing out."

Joel shrugs again, and it comes off as casual, but you notice the way his ears tint pink. "Just- not been something I did. But now, I guess, I can. And with way less guilt."

"Why guilt? Are-" you venture, dread pooling in your stomach, "Are you married?"

His eyes flit up to you sharply, and then soften immediately. He lets out a breath and shakes his head. "No. Nothin' like that. I was married, but I've been divorced nearly twenty years now."

The tightness immediately uncoils and you realise how tense you were only a moment ago. I am not a cog in the machine of a collapsing marriage. Thank fuck.

But now your curiosity is piqued. "So... why the guilt?"

"Sorry, I- I really didn't mean to get into it. I'd rather not get into it. It's- complicated."

"Of course," you shrug, and it isn't a problem because this is just a hot fantasy hookup that you'll remember fondly, and it'll be wonderful masturbation fuel for probably the rest of your life, but you don't wanna make the poor guy go into his life's trauma, especially when he's looking at you so fucking earnestly and you are actually really fucking fascinated but no, you would not let this become a problem.

"Thanks," he says, and then steps out of the room. You hear the clang of the bin as he steps on the pedal, then drops the condom, takes a piss and washes his hands.

"You hungry?" He asks, and you realize very suddenly, you're absolutely famished.

"Yes," you jump up and he laughs when you run, bare-assed and shameless, over to the corner of the room filled with brochures and traveller info and finally, you raise it in triumph when you find it, the list of nearby takeaways.

"Okay," you look at the list, "There's one place at the top of the list here that's apparently highly rated, but I actually have plans there soon and I wanna wait till then to eat there. Hope that's okay."

Joel comes over to you and rests his head on your shoulder. "No problem."

"But... alright," you continue. "There's pizza. Or... more pizza. Or, look--there's a Southern-style place, that'll make you feel right at home!" Joel pokes you in the side and you swat at him as he grunts a laugh.

Suddenly, a warning sound starts playing on loop in your brain. It was dreadfully domestic, wasn't it? This was an absolute stranger you'd just met in a hotel bar? But... it also felt... nice? And it felt nice in ways that you'd never found yourself enjoying before. Even with long-term partners. Maybe because this was so low-stakes, you reasoned, such an inevitably temporary situation, so you weren't putting the same kind of pressure on yourself.

As soon as you think that, the eternal curse of overthinking shows itself and you suddenly feel desperately self conscious. Before you can pull away and make some excuse, though, Joel's arm wraps around you and his thumb starts rubbing little circles into a tender bit of skin between your hip and your tummy. The anxiety spiral you'd been teetering on the edge of suddenly vanishes.

"How about-," he nods at the list, "Pizza?"

After Joel calls in your order, the pizza delivery service tells you to expect your food in about thirty minutes. You remember you have a little box of edibles. You ask Joel if he minds if you take one, and he doesn't. You offer him one, and he automatically declines, but then as he starts to explain, he pauses and pivots, goes "Wait, actually. Yeah. Why not?"

A freckled kid who looks no more than sixteen pulls up with a short stack of pizza boxes and a two liter bottle of root beer. He raps awkwardly on the door after exactly thirty five minutes, and it swings open.

The room looks utterly wrecked, clothing strewn along every surface. Joel answers the door wearing a robe, his entire face smelling of sex, and his moustache still shining with the slick of your release.

"Thanks, kid," Joel nods, and hands him a small wad of cash. The kid eyes him and shrugs. "Keep the change," he tells him, and the door swings back shut.

The edibles have hit beautifully. You're both blissed out, comfortably hazy, lost in the sensation of bare limbs on bedsheets and the flavors of the pizza and it's assorted sauces. You lay together on the bed, paper plates strewn between you. In the background, an X-Files rerun plays.

"Ooh!" You sit up as you catch the premise of the episode, "I love this one! See the goo? There's a giant fungal... entity.. that's working on digesting them, and giving them hallucinations as they die."

"You and mushrooms, huh?" Joel laughs, but then looks back at the episode and contemplates the viscous yellow goo. "Jesus christ," he frowns, and sniffs, now contemplating the mushrooms on his pizza slice.

You spot his glare and snort. "I think you're safe."

He takes another bite and shakes his head as if to clear it.

"I'm getting tired," he admits.

"Me too," you agree.

"No pressure, but in case it wasn't clear, you're welcome to stay the night here."

"That's sweet," you tell him, and think it over. "If I took you up on that, would you be offended if I slip out early?"

Joel raises a brow.

"I have a cat," you explain, "And I'm working on moving into a new place, and meeting a friend for breakfast, and then I need to check out after breakfast because I won't be able to get my keys for the new place until the breakfast but I can't take my cat to a diner-"

You take a breath.

"Basically, I've got a bunch of things I need to do in the morning, but if you don't mind me slipping out around, maybe, 5-ish, then I'd love to stay."

He stares at you.

You regret saying as much as you said. You don't need to over-explain yourself to this actual stranger. He doesn't care. There's no reason for him to care. He's probably in it just for the fuck, and it was fun and if you stay then there's a chance the two of you will wake up at some point in the night, still horny and lustful and you might fuck again and you'd be lying if you said that wasn't part of the draw. You realise, though, you'd also be lying if you said you didn't care what he thought of you. All of a sudden, you are overwhelmed with caring what this man thinks of you.

How fucking inconvenient.

"I wouldn't be offended at all," Joel chews, swallows, wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin and speaks again. "What's your cat's name?"

You don't know what you'd expected he'd say, but it wasn't that. You buffer for a moment. "It's- Spatula."

"Spatula?"

"Yep." You feel foolish.

"Huh. Spatula."

A silent moment between you.

"Got any pictures?"

You weren't expecting that, either. "I... do? Do you want to see them?" He nods. You pull out your phone to scroll through.

Joel, suddenly scrambled around for his phone, too. It was late and he hadn't checked it for hours. Had it been on silent? What if Sarah had called and he'd missed it?

His panic eased when he saw he had only two notifications. Both from Sarah, but neither were bad. He hadn't been neglecting any crises. The first text was a selfie of Sarah and an unfamiliar person, which she'd texted to him with the caption New roomie!! The second contained an address to the place they'd have breakfast tomorrow along with Just wanted you to know I've invited a friend to join us tomorrow morning! Is that okay? Realized I should maybe have checked with you? 😬

There was an ache in his chest. He wanted to keep her to himself, get to spend one last day, just the two of them. It was the start of a whole new chapter, but more than anything, he wished he could hold onto the moment for just a second longer.

But Sarah was stressed, he knew this, so he wasn't gonna make it worse and put this burden on her. He could handle it. He had to handle it. He typed back- No problem, baby. Can't wait to meet your friend.

After a moment, he followed up with another text. Gonna turn in now. Good nite!

The less he texted right now, the better. He did not want Sarah to know anything about the night he was having.

His screen lit up a moment later. Night Dad! He takes a deep breath and wills some of the tension away.

He slips his phone aside and you scoot into bed next to him.

"This," you announce, "Is Spatula."

Joel scrolls thru, his brows raising higher with each image.

With a single nod, he opens his mouth and instead of speaking, he collapses into laughter. It comes out a wheeze- "I-- I know this won't make any sense, but your cat looks just like my goddamn brother."

You're laughing now too, both of you almost hysterical, even though you have no frame of reference. You cherish the absurdity.

Then, Joel pulls up a picture on his phone and shows you, and now you're doubling over again because his brother looks exactly like Spatula.

You don't remember falling asleep. You curse your body's internal clock because you wake up right at 5am, and even though you know you should get up and leave, you wish you could have just a little bit longer.

It's such a comfortable way to wake up. One arm is folded under your pillow, and the other is slung over Joel's hip. He's asleep, snoring softly, and strands of his hair are mussed along his forehead. Your hand is holding his tummy, but you realise there's something pressing against the heel of your hand, and then realise, with a delicious jolt, that he's hard and straining against his boxers.

It's so fucking hard to get out of that bed, but with enough barely-effective reminders--you're gonna fuck up your whole day if you're late, gotta make a good impression, Spatula's gonna be so disappointed if you're late with his breakfast--you manage to bully yourself out of the warm and wonderful bed containing blankets and absolutely fantastic dick, and you tiptoe through the room, dress quickly, and, after making a note and leaving it on his bedside stand, you slip out.

Joel wakes up with a jolt, and then rolls over to see that the alarm clock (which he dared not contemplate the number of times he must have snoozed) was telling him it was 9:13.

He was late. Really fucking late. And then the panic made his brain spin faster and that's when he noticed the note on his bedside table.

I had a really good time If you're in town for a little longer, don't be a stranger?

It's followed with your name and phone number, and a rather detailed mushroom sketch across the page. He wasn't sure what kind of mushroom it was, but it was beautiful, and clearly hand-drawn, and for whatever reason you'd decided to tear it out of, presumably, your sketchbook? And you gave it to him, and he's gonna read that note and replay last night for the rest of his fucking life. It felt incredibly precious. He placed it in a book so it wouldn't get creased or folded. Made sure it was all contained and neat, totally flat in between the pages.

Then, he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower.

After scrubbing the smell of sex off of his entire body, he dresses quickly and checks his watch again. 9:28.

He texts Sarah and lets her know he's a few minutes behind. She responds with an eye roll emoji.

Joel settles in his truck and pulls up directions. It's only a few minutes away. He won't be too late.

When Joel steps into the diner, he's charmed by it. It's old school, with a checkerboard floor and bright red vinyl seats. He scans the room till he spots Sarah in a booth in the corner. She's laughing over a hot chocolate, and her friend must be in the seat opposite her.

He catches Sarah's eye and she grins at him, waving him over.

You've been at the diner about fifteen minutes, and you and Sarah are already getting along beautifully.

You'd met on a university message board and had become fast friends, but meeting someone in person was always a little terrifying. On top of that, you'd already committed to spending at least one (academic) year with this person, so you were damn sure gonna make it work.

Sarah waves over her dad. You can't see him yet, the back of the booth too high.

But then he's standing right there.

You already have a hand outstretched, but when he sees you and you see him, your stomach flips and dread runs through you. All the color drains from his face. He looks like a deer in headlights, and you'd be surprised if you didn't look the same.

Sarah looks between you, not quite concerned, but definitely confused. Sarah smiles and tries to diffuse the situation.

"Hi dad!" She grins, "This is my new roommate! Well, the other new roommate--the one in the picture, their name is Ellie, they weren't able to make it this morning. BUT. Breakfast seemed like a great time to hand off keys!"

Joel is still frozen and white-faced. Your brain whirs, and you know you've just fucking catapulted yourself into a disastrous mess, but you do your very best to save face.

Reaching your hand out further so he can't possibly miss it, he gives into some familiar social instinct, takes it and you shake. You think of his hands, how they dragged along your body last night, touched you, felt you, wrecked you.

You introduce yourself. He nods, avoiding eye contact.

"Joel." He grunts. "Miller."

Sarah frowns at him, but turns back to the menu.

This- was unexpected. Problematic. Arguably, really fucked up. All of those things and more. But it'll be fine.

All throughout breakfast, you repeat that to yourself, letting the words bounce around your head. It will be fine, you repeat your mantra, it will be fine, and you try not to feel too hurt at the way Joel's avoiding eye contact as if simply looking at you will cause him unimaginable disgust.

Everything will be fine.

Note: The fic's premise is loosely based on the book Mistakes Were Made which is a fucking excellent sapphic romance novel that utilises this trope. Would strongly recommend the book if you're into smutty queer stories.

#joel miller smut #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller x f!reader #ok i gotta be honest i was stoned out of my mind for writing most of this #but mostly sober for editing #thank u for bearing with meeeeeee

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chososdiscordkitten · 4 months

Text

Sub!Choso♡

MDNI

pairing: Choso x gn!Reader Content: no use of y/n or pronouns, beginning is some reassurance to Choso, no intercourse, sub!Choso, softdom!reader, light teasing, guided masturbation, overstimulation, praising, use of sweet boy, good boy, and hon, reach around hand job in the mirror, multiple orgasms; all just Choso..... Word count: 3.7k (a.n) ...... is this a safe place to post this? I started writing this thinking it was gonna be short- I was wrong. I got a lil carried away. Wrote this while listening to 'Take Me to Church- Hozier'

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Dating Choso came easy. He was nice, he was strong, caring. You always saw the tough side of him. He never had anything to complain about when it came to your relationship.

Always ready to hear your opinions and thoughts. And when you'd ask him what he think when it came to certain things he'd always reply with, “If it makes you happy, I'm happy.” never wanting to say something that might hurt you.

Always so eager to shut down your harsh words towards yourself whenever a certain shirt didn't fit the way you wanted to. And you’d compliment him, saying things like how handsome he was, how good he looked, or when he'd help you carry the cases of water, never hesitating to kiss his bicep and tell him how strong he was.

And everytime he would return a shy, “Thank you.” turning away from you, knowing how red his cheeks got anytime you'd praise him. So when he asked you;

“Do you like me?” One tired night after coming home from work, it took you by surprise.

“What do you mean?” You asked, looking at him through the mirror in the corner of your shared bedroom.

“Do you like me? Like that?” he asked, hands between his knees. His eyes on your face in the shape of saucers, sitting on the corner of the bed.

“Of course I do.” you replied, not fully understanding why he was asking that. “Have I not shown you that I do?” You asked, concerned that maybe you had failed him in that aspect.

Turning around to look at him, seeing him look down. “No- I just.” he puffed, trying to find the words to tell you how he feels. “I don't see why you'd want to be with me.” He let out, almost a whisper.

“Choso.” You sighed, seeing him tilt his head slightly up. Taking a step closer to him, reaching for the sides of his face.

“If im with you- it's because you are you.” You smiled, your thumbs caressing his cheeks.

He looked up to your gaze, “But-” he started, “No buts. What are you doubting?” You asked, soft tone in your voice as he closed his eyes.

“I just don't see why you'd want to be with me- I can't talk about my feelings- I cry too much.” He started, seeing tears form in his waterline. His hands hugged around your waist as he tried not to cry.

“I see the way people look at you- and it makes me feel like maybe I'm not enough.” He whispered, hot tears staining the shirt you were wearing as he pressed the side of his face to your sternum. Your hands caressing the sides of his face as he lets out quite whimpers into your shirt.

Pulling him from you, looking down at his flustered face and wet cheeks. “You're more than enough Choso.” You wiped tears from his cheek, “I know feelings are so hard to talk about, and your crying just shows me just how sensitive you are.” You assured, seeing him not find any reassurance in your words.

“But-” He started again. Nodding your head no as he stopped speaking.

“What do I have to do to get you to see what I see?” You asked, smiling as you leaned down to kiss his forehead. His hand holding your wrist, pulling away and placing a gentle kiss to his lips. Half lidded eyes locked on his as he parted his lips, almost as though he was trying to think on what would assure him.

Pressing another kiss to his lips before letting out a ‘Hmm?’ seeing him gulp his embarrassment. “What do you like…about me?” he asked, his ears now warm against your fingers.

Choso was never the type to fish for compliments, he never asked you to praise him whenever he did something for you.

But he wanted to hear it, he just never had the guts to ask.

The corner of your mouth curling into a smile at his brazen question, “I love your eyebrows.” You smiled, placing a gentle kiss to one of his eyebrows, “I love your eyes-” his eyes fluttering shut, pressing a kiss to one of them.

“And your nose.” You hummed, pressing a delicate kiss to the center of the black stripe that adorned his face. “Your cheeks-” He closed his eyes as he felt you pepper his face with gentle kisses.

The pink on his cheeks turned redder as he felt you kiss the shell of his ear, “And your earrings.” you smiled, his hands on your hips.

Feeling you straddle his thighs, lowering your lips to his jaw. “And your jawline.” you smiled, feeling him shift under you.

Trailing kisses on the edge of his jaw. Placing a kiss to his chin, “And your lips.” You whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his plush lips.

Your hands on the sides of his face, looking deep into his eyes. “I love every part of you.” You smiled, feeling his hands roam up your back. Pulling you close to hug him, your chin on his shoulder as he held you tightly.

“I love when you make me laugh-” you whispered, “How caring you are-” his grip on your back pressing firmer.

“When you do things for me without me asking you to.” You continued, you hand rubbing circles on his back.

The other trailing to his bicep, “And how strong you are.” You smiled, feeling goosebumps form as you trailed the tips of your fingers on his thick bicep. Tracing your hand down his arm, moving it so you could intertwine your fingers with his.

Pulling away from his hug and looking into his eyes. “And your big hands.” You hummed, feeling his thick fingers against your smaller ones. The tears in his eyes now gone as his bottom lip trembled.

Closing the few centimeters that separated your lips, Choso hesitatingly deepening the kiss. Feeling his lips suck on your bottom one. The hand on your back is going to hold the side of your face. Pulling away from you with nothing but hearts in his eyes.

“I love you so much Choso.” You whispered, seeing him hold back a smile- almost too shy to smile.

Eyebrows furrowing together when you felt something poke your thigh. His face of embarrassment showed you what he felt, not even looking down to see what poked you.

“I’m sorry-” He started, apologizing before you even said anything. “I just- felt so happy hearing your words-” he babbled, wanting so badly to tease him. But you knew now wasn't the time for that.

Taking one of your hands and brushing the hair from his face. “Don't be sorry-” you hummed, looking into his face that was full of shame. Smiling as he tried to avoid your gaze.

“No- I am. You're just trying to be nice and I ruined it-” he mumbled, looking down. Trying to look away from the embarrassment. Seeing an opportunity to show him just how much you liked him. Mumbling a quiet;

“It’s okay.” before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips and taking your hand and trailing it to his clothed chest. Then down his torso as his breath hitched.

Your hand resting to the side of his hip, knowing he didn't wear any underwear whenever he'd be in his pajamas. Your hand cuffing around his clothed cock, earning a soft gasp from his lips.

Dragging your hand to where you knew his tip was, your fingertips grazing it delicately as he closed his eyes. Trying his best not to whine at the feeling. Smiling when you saw him try his hardest not to get too loud from such simple touches.

His cheeks flushed and such whiny sounds falling from his lips made something deep inside of you itch. Taking the hand that was on his cheek, placing the tips of your fingers to his lips.

Choso’s eyes opened to look at you, such deep devotion in his gaze when he looked at you. Kissing at the tips of your fingers before widening his mouth to welcome them.

The hand on his clothed cock felt a small wet spot at the tip. Making you smile as he sucked at your fingers, hoping they'd be enough to quiet his moans. They weren't, his groans vibrated against your fingers causing a chill to run down your spine.

The mere sight of him making your own arousal pool in your stomach. Feeling his hips buck beneath you, you smiled. A certain image you've had in mind popping into your head when you saw the face he made before he was going to cum.

Stopping your movements as he looked into your eyes, almost asking you why you’d deny him this. Pulling your now wet fingers from his lips, seeing his face of confusion.

You raised yourself from his thighs, his face full of betrayal as you looked behind you. Pulling the small ottoman in the bedroom in front of him. Sitting down and looking at him, eye to eye but much further away than he wanted.

Smile on your lips as you saw his face churn with shyness. Feeling your gaze on the obvious wet spot on his gray sweats. Thinking he had never felt this hard in his life. “If I wasn't here; show me how you’d take care of it.” You hummed, seeing him look at you. Eyebrows furrowed showing you how unsure he was.

“Take care of…it?” he whispered, his hands going to cover the obvious wet bulge in his sweats. Your eyes looked down to his hands, you mumbled a small ‘Mhm’ as his lips cracked open to say something but not finding the words.

His eyes widening at the realization of what you were asking of him. Goosebumps forming on his back. Seeing you rest your elbow on your knee, propping your head in your hand while you waited. He stood up, taking his shirt off quickly- not wanting it to get ruined. His chest almost heaving from how flustered he felt.

Tossing it to the side and sliding his sweats down to his knees, his eyes avoiding your gaze as his throbbing cock flung out of his soiled sweats. Seeing a smile form on your lips when he sat back down on the edge of the bed. His eyebrows pinched together when he saw how lovingly you watched him.

“So pretty Cho.” You hummed, making his heart clench. Looking down to his leaking cock, and back to you. “Go on.” You smiled, the look on your face as though what you were asking of him was some innocent act.

Gulping as he took his hand, grasping the middle of his pale shaft. Inhaling sharply as he slid it up to his tip slowly. Choso had done this many times, never feeling shame or embarrassment for doing what seemed to be something normal.

But not once did he ever do it infront of you, the feeling of being so exposed while you watched him. Fully dressed and praising him. You've said it to him before, but you always liked the way his face churned when you'd tell him, “So big.” you'd purr, his eyes squinting shut at hearing your words.

His hand took a snail pace, stroking up and down slowly as he looked to his cock and back to you to see if you saw what you were hoping for. His sweats falling from his knees down to his ankles as he let out soft whines. His thumb caught the very tip of his cock as he looked to your approving gaze.

“Does it feel good?” you hummed, hearing him let out a choked moan, he let out a soft ‘Mhm’ as he stroked himself. “Use your words.” You demanded, his face showing you how reactive he was to your tone.

“It-” He whined, trying to get the words out. “It does-” he managed, eyes flickering back to you.

“Always so cute when you're like this Cho.” You smiled, seeing his hand speed up the tiniest bit at your words, seeing his free hand hold onto the edge of the bed while trying not to cum too soon.

“Are you gonna cum?” Your tone came out more teasingly than you meant for it to, seeing him nod his head no, going back to the slow pace he kept before.

“It's okay. You can cum.” you hummed, seeing him look to you with pained eyes as his hand sped up. All but asking for your permission. Gasping at the feeling of his fist brushing against his crying tip.

Chin in your hand watching his fist come down his shaft, making him throw his head back and let out a groan. Stroking his cock through his orgasm, only making himself more messy. Whining as he came down from his orgasm, looking back to you to see if you found what you were looking for.

“Again.” You smiled, loving look on your face when you looked at his fucked out one. Wincing when he heard your words, almost like you didn't have any issues about demanding another one.

His hard cock twitched as his hand connected again, stroking slowly at his shaft, making sure to not touch his tip too much. Knowing how sensitive it still was, soft whines left his lips once more as he saw you furrow your eyebrows at his movements.

“If you're not gonna do it right, don't do it at all. Choso.” tone now deprived of all sweetness. Now sounding more upset.

“M’sorry-” he whined, stroking past his tip. Bucking his hips into his hand, choked whines falling from him. Soft sighs from him when he saw your eyebrows unfurrow.

Looking at him again with a smile. “There you go,” You cooed, “Good boy.” you continued, earning small whines from him at your words. Looking at you with a shamed face before asking;

“Can I-” Seeing you lift your head from your hands and rest your palms above your thighs.

“Can you what?” you teased, seeing his hand move sloppily as he heard your tone. He moaned, babbles of ‘pleasepleaseplease’ as his hand tried to keep the pace he set for himself.

“Please what Choso?” you hummed, seeing him almost cum without permission.

“Can I cum- please.” He managed through various whines, blushing so intensely that it roamed down his neck, onto his chest.

“Go ahead, hon.” You smiled, seeing his face churn as he chased the fleeting orgasm at his own hand. Unable to keep his fist tight enough to make him cum from how fucked out he already was. Barely managing to come once his eyes met your gaze.

Standing up from the ottoman as he came down from his second orgasm. Pressing a delicate kiss onto his forehead as he stroked himself slowly.

“You're so pretty like this Cho.” You cooed, holding his head in your hands as he looked up at you through his eyelashes. Seeing his eyebrows pinch together at your praises. Placing a kiss to his lips, eyes half lidded before pulling away.

“You did so good.” Pushing away the strands of hair that stuck to his forehead. Opening his mouth to speak- hesitating as he looked into your eyes.

“Touch me. Please.” He whined, feeling your hands on the sides of his face and his cock hardening once more. Pulling away from him before slipping off your shirt- knowing just how messy he gets. Kneeling before him, hands on his bare thighs as he squirmed at the feeling.

“I always liked how sensitive you were, Cho.” You started, taking the tip of your finger and tracing it on his darkening head. Seeing his thighs tremble against the feeling.

“How pretty you look when you ask me to help you.” You continued, slowly trailing the tip of your index finger down his shaft, hearing how he became breathless at the simple feeling. Taking your finger and gathering the mess he made at the base of his shaft, looking up to his eyes and licking it from your finger.

Smile on your face from the flavor hitting your tongue, seeing him try his hardest not to whine at your words. “And how sweet you've always been.” You smiled, leaning against his thigh. Seeing his mouth want to say something, lip quivering at trying to get the words out.

“Pl-” he started, a gasp leaving his lips when he felt the tip of your finger circle around the opening of his tip. Hearing you let out a teasing, ‘Hmm?’ As his hands gripped the edges of the bed. “Please-” He whined, seeing only the tip of your finger dance around his angry head.

“Please what?” You asked, seeing his tip let out a fat tear.

“Touch me-” He started, soft gasps leaving his lips at how sensitive his tip was.

“I am touching you, aren't i?” You smiled, hearing his groans become more and more frustrated. Looking up to see his face, a twinge of regret in your heart when you saw teary eyes looking back to you.

“Okay, okay.” You smiled, raising yourself slightly so you'd be closer to his face, pressing a kiss to the corner of his opened mouth.

Looking into his eyes when you wrapped your hand around his base, gasping at the sudden feeling. Pressing a kiss onto his lips as he exhaled in relief, resting on the back of your calves as you slowly started stroking him.

Rolling the palm of your hand onto his tip as he squirmed beneath you, looking up to see his head thrown back, choked whines leaving his throat as you continued. Your free hand going to his balls, caressing them gently as he moaned more pleads.

Sadistic grin on your lips as you looked at the messy sight before you. “You gonna cum for me, Choso?” You smiled, seeing him flip his face back down to you.

Muttering a gasping ‘yes’ as your hand sped up. Seeing his cock leak out small pumps of milky white cum onto your hands. “You wanna make me happy?” you smiled sweetly, knowing that all you needed to do was ask him that one question and he'd be putty in your hands.

Nodding his head yes, not being able to speak from the whines leaving his mouth. You pulled away, making him let out a groan.

“You look so pretty- you have to see yourself.” You smiled, crawling onto the bed, hearing how hard he was breathing. Bare chest against his back as he whined. Feeling your hands snake beneath his arms, touching his ribs and grazing his chest.

“Look-” you whispered into his ear, being able to feel the shiver that ran down his spine. Seeing him lift his head to look into the mirror in front of him.

“Look how beautiful you look like this.” You whispered, lips brushing against his ear as your hand trailed down his torso. Fingers slowly tracing the ridges of his abs, hearing him exhale at your words. “You look even prettier when you cum.” you grinned against him, making him let out a soft whine at your dirty whispers.

“I'll show you-” you grinned, almost too eager as your hand trailed from his abdomen down his happy trail. Already feeling him writhe against your touch.

Seeing his gaze fall from his own body to your face peeking behind his shoulder. Feeling you slowly push the tip of his cock through your fist. Making him shift his hips, your other hand going to hold onto his thick bicep. Slowly stroking his cock as he felt another orgasm pool into his stomach.

“I’m gonna cum-” he whined, feeling that the sight of himself in the mirror and your sweet voice in his ear was too much.

“Already? I've barely touched you~” You teased, pressing your thumb onto the bottom of his tip. Sliding it up and down as you waited for him to answer, not stroking him just to see what he'd say.

“I’m sorry-” he whined, making you let out a small laugh.

“My sweet boy. Always so polite.” You smiled against his ear, making him buck his hips up your hand to get some stimulation. Seeing his eyes squeezed shut through the mirror, “Open your eyes.” You demanded, seeing him open them and look into the mirror.

“Look at your arms-” you started, slowly stroking his cock as he tried his hardest to not close his eyes. Feeling your hand caress his bicep, fingers pressing down at the small vein forming. Moving the hand on his bicep to his side, keeping the slow pace as you stroked his cock.

“And your chest-” you hummed, sliding your hands past his hardened nipple, making him gasp at the feeling. “Look how pretty your cock is.” you giggled, seeing his eyes trail down his own reflection- exhaling when he saw your hand stroking him.

The feeling of your other hand rolling the bud of his pink nipple between your fingers made him almost cum on the spot.

Seeing his face churn in the mirror you whispered, “Are you gonna cum again?~” as he muttered various ‘yesyesyes’ feeling your hand polish the tip of his cock.

“Look at yourself Choso-” you smiled, seeing his eyes scan his body with low gasps. Whining when he felt your hand speed up, making him cum once more. Barely being able to keep his eyes open as you brushed your thumb across the tip.

“Look how pretty you look~” you gasped, feeling his cum fall between your fingers that grasped against his cock. Choso’s eyes falling onto his own face as he came down from his orgasm. His breathing slowed as he felt himself give you the last of what he had.

His cock softened in your hand as you felt aftershocks flow through his body. Kissing his shoulder before letting his cock go.

Almost feeling him fall back onto you, before you laid back into the bed. Feeling him flip over and resting his head onto your sternum. Holding himself close to your skin as you rubbed circles onto his bare back.

Tired eyes looking up at you, “Thank you.” he whispered before leaning up to give you a soft kiss to your lips. Placing one of your hands onto the side of his face, your fingers trailing above his pierced ears, feeling him hum against your chest.

Trailing the hand on his back up to his hair, combing it away from his face as you felt him slowly becoming heavier- showing he was falling asleep. “I love you.” You hummed, earning a small grunt from him as he tried to stay awake.

I wrote this cuz I personally find it to be one of the most attractive things I can think abt- and when looking for some like this abt Choso, I found very few which was UPSETTING!!!! its one of the few things that made me take 5 min breaks like every few sentences because i felt so flustered writing this. again I suck at writing aftercare. im SORRY. I needed to write something nasty- I felt like I was punishing myself or something. I needed to get this out of my head before I wrote pt 7 of obsessive!Choso!!! im getting to work dw

#jjk #choso kamo #choso my beloved #choso x reader #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen #choso smut #choso jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #choso x you #sub!choso #dom!reader #jjk smut #jjk x chubby reader

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genshin-obsessed · 3 months

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Could I request Diluc, Kaeya, and Zhongli trying their hardest -and failing- not to cry after their wife, due to being tired and frustrated during an argument, wonders if they should get divorced because she thinks she's tying them down?

Ooh, ok, I need to sleep BUT the chance to write angst? sleep can wait! I wasn't entirely sure how to end it so I just left it like this. I'm sure this could be much, much longer but I didn't wanna make it too long, yanno? meant as a fem!reader but I don't mentions pronouns, just the term 'wife'.

▻ Kaeya

He didn't really know when the argument started. He didn't know what it was about anymore either. It was one of those arguments where the points end up getting lost and you're just yelling at one another about something completely unrelated. Honestly, you two were basically screaming at one another. But then he heard that one, awful sentence he never wanted to hear in his life.

"Why don't we just get a divorce and I won't be ruining your life anymore!?" Suddenly, the room's so eerily quiet that you finally realized what you said. Your gaze held Kaeya's and you watched as his usual cocky exterior just melt and tears fill his beautiful eyes. He slapped the back of his hand against his lips to stop but he couldn't. Your words shook him to his core and every thought in his mind was wiped away.

At some point, he didn't even register you trying to calm him down as he fell to his knees, tears flooding down his face. He didn't even register as he wrapped his arms around you in a near death grip, begging for you to stay.

He loved you, adored you, cherished you, worshipped you basically. So... wherever did you get this idea that you were tying him down? That you were ruining his life? Just where did he end up going wrong for you to have such awful thoughts?

▻ Diluc

Often talking to Diluc was something that was a little touch and go. He didn't talk much and when he did, he usually only talked enough to get the point across and that was it. Even during arguments, Diluc only spoke when he felt it was necessary. To avoid pointless yelling matches, he kept quiet until you were done.

But tonight was... different. Maybe it was a hard day for him, maybe it was something you said, maybe it was that he had a frustrating spat with Kaeya, or maybe that he was dealing with issues at the tavern... but tonight, Diluc was just as angry as you. You two were yelling so much that even the maids heard you outside of the manor. There was no end in sight.

"Then leave, Diluc! Leave me and you can be happy doing whatever you want! I won't be here to tie you down anymore and you can be a free fucking bird!" Diluc opened his mouth to retaliate but nothing came out. It was like the world stopped moving for a second. This uncomfortable pit grew in his stomach and he just knew it was bad. You thought you were tying him down? Never once did such an atrocious thought ever cross his mind. Never during an argument, never during a bad day, not once in his life.

So... why did you? Diluc didn't realize just how much he hated the silence until that moment. He hated it so much, that the tears he attempted to bury just burst out in a loud cry. Anything to stop that deafening silence.

▻ Zhongli

Zhongli was by far, the worst person to argue with. Why? He just sat there silently until you were done. Zhongli didn't argue, no. He waited, listened, then just explained his side. If it didn't work, he'd step away. But even an archon such as himself had limits. Your arguments never turned into screaming matches, at least not on his end, but sometimes they dragged on.

Today was just one such day. Even with his near impeccable memory, the man couldn't recall what happened to lead you two here. You were so upset and angry and no matter what he did, he made it worse. Truth be told, he was angry and frustrated too. It was like neither of you were listening to each other anymore.

"Well, if it's all pointless then why don't we just quit now?! Let's just get a divorce and you can go on happily without a wife to just drag you down!" That's when everything just stopped. Zhongli slowly looked away as he registered the words, feeling his chest begin to constrict.

Why... did you say that? Why would you think that? Was that his fault? You figure began to blur and he fell to his knees, desperately grabbing the dining table for support. You were at his side and tried to calm him down, desperately trying to wipe his tears but anything you said after just... didn't touch him. The awful reality of his life had his heart in a death grip and he could only listen if he got away from it.

#kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin diluc #genshin kaeya #genshin zhongli #🖊─ pocky’s writings #genshin angst #angst

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peachesofteal · 2 months

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Light On Simon Riley/female reader (mama) & Emmaline Valentine's Day special This was heavily requested when I was still writing for these three. Light On is finished, but holidays make me sentimental. Consider this a little treat for Valentine's Day

The aquarium is a zoo.

Once, the throngs of people, masses of children and parents swirling around and screaming, running and jumping all over the place would make him uneasy, unsettle him, drive him back to his apartment, to the dark.

Once.

Now, he navigates it well. Confidently. He's here with his family, his girls. He even enjoys it, taking in all the tanks, the fish, the stingrays, the sharks, and he's proud, when Emma manages to screech out the word fish here and there, giving her positive encouragement, sliding the cloth mask down to place a quick kiss to the top of her head.

He grounds himself with one hand on the small of your back, the other pushing an empty stroller. Having you close, within arm's reach, numbs the anxiety constantly buzzing in the back of his mind, and he tucks you into his side every time you'll let him. Emmaline occasionally peers at him over your shoulder, or when he's not immediately in her line of sight, whips her head back and forth, trying to figure out where he's gone.

"'m right here." He soothes, rubbing her back. "Right here, baby girl." You roll your eyes, smile sweet for him, for her, and lean forward, smacking a big kiss on her cheek before pointing at the curved glass of the tank.

"Look, Emma!" A group of jellyfish drift weightlessly in the middle of the room, and he urges the two of you forward so she can see, unbothered by the five and six year olds that jostle one another around his legs. She shrieks with glee, giggling like mad when she smacks her hand against the glass as hard as she can, earning her an immediate, soft redirection from you.

"Gentle, baby. Gentle." Her little brow furrows, frustrated, and she bobbles in your arms, turning again to find him. He's about to reach for her, give your back a break, when she starts to babble, high pitched sounds gurgling into a jumble of words and-

"Dada." Your eyes go round. "Dadadada..."

Simon's heart breaks open inside his chest, torrent of emotion crashing over him, washing him away in the wake. A palm claps over your mouth, dropped open in shock, and he sees joy in your eyes, joy and pain, the presence of a ghost still haunting your happiness, like one haunts his.

"Here, uh." you lift her into his arms, and he stares down at her sweet, cherub face, cheeks swelling with an almost toothless smile, tiny fingers stretching for his mask.

"Dada!" He doesn't answer, his silence frustrating, and she grows more demanding, happy pitch changing into a growl of dissatisfaction. "Dada, dada!"

"Shhhh, hey. It's okay." He bounces, cuddling her close. "I'm here." You stand back, expression heavy with grief, light with happiness, and he locks eyes with you.

He doesn't need to speak, to ask.

Are you okay? Are you okay with this?

Your hands clasp together, and you nod.

After a beat, he clears his throat. "How did she..."

"I might have been calling you dada, at home, when I refer to you, you know?" You're wearing the mask of a million emotions, embarrassment and shame, sadness, and elation. They all mix together to bring more tears to your eyes, and you laugh uneasily as you wipe them. "I... I'm sorry. I don't know how to feel, about her saying it, and I didn't ask you, either. It's... it's, I,-"

"I know, sweetheart. I know. It's okay." He steps close, Emmaline chewing on the edge of his mask, burrowed in his chest. His forehead taps yours, and he closes his eyes. He doesn't know how to thank you, for this gift, this love, this life you've given him, so all he can say is the three words he says all the time, the three words he whispers into your skin at night, the three words he gives Emma when he tucks her into bed. "I love you." Your fingers hold tight to his, watery smile lighting up the entire room.

"We love you too."

#light on #peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader

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babyleostuff · 4 months

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NANA CUDDLES | JEON WONWOO

dedicated to @wonijinjin

fluff 𐙚 established relationship 𐙚 idol!wonwoo x gn!reader 𐙚 wc: 763

“what are you giggling at?”

without tearing your eyes from the screen, you blindly reached for wonwoo’s hand, giving it a little squeeze. “i've never seen you so unbothered about being shirtless on camera before,” you said amused, unable to look away from your computer. “on national tv may i add.”

he scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest, as if he was trying to make a point. “you would be too if a horde of people barged into your room shoving cameras in your face.”

wonwoo was clearly not as entertained as you were, not that you cared - you were too busy melting over your shirtless boyfriend with the cutest bed hair, who looked like the squishiest (and most confused) dumpling ever.

“i had bigger things to worry about,” he said, and reached for his gaming controller.

“like what?” you could barely hold back your laughter at his pouty expression and the way he spoke in a sulk. offended wonwoo was an endearing wonwoo. no wonder he became Na PD’s favourite child when he acted that cute without even realising.

“like being kidnapped.”

you quickly paused the video, turning your head in your boyfriend’s direction.“that's not an excuse, jeon wonwoo. you were kidnapped to fucking italy!”

“language.”

you hated yourself for how down bad you were for your boyfriend, because oh god, you’d love to punch him for being so annoying sometimes, but you couldn't - instead, you wanted to smooch him all over his kissable face.

“why are you being so mean about it? i never said you looked bad or anything,” you mumbled and resumed the video, sinking further into the sofa. wonwoo sighed softly and you knew something bigger was going on, but you didn't want to argue with him any further if he was going to be so annoying.

out of the corner of your eye, you saw him grab the blanket that was lying next to him and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself - no matter what the temperature was, wonwoo always ended up being cold.

"it was embarrassing. i mean, it is now that i look at it," he mumbled, picking up your computer and without looking at you, he covered your legs with the blanket. “and it’s even more embarrassing seeing you freak over it so much,” he raised his gaze to you, shyly looking at you from behind his glasses that slid to the tip of his nose.

you cooed at him, only now noticing the blush on his cheeks. "i didn't do it to spite you, honey, seriously. you just looked so cute and it's not often you show this side of you when you're on camera,” you said, adjusting his glasses. “seeing you so happy even in such an uncomfortable situation for you,” you sighed, brushing gently some of his hair from his forehead. “i love seeing you like this. happiness looks good on you, wonwoo.”

wonwoo scrunched his nose sweetly, looking down. “thank you,” he said, and leaned towards you, pecking your forehead.

“what are you doing?” you looked up from your book in confusion, watching wonwoo climb into bed.

"i'm going to bed?" he asked with amusement, pulling the covers over him.

"okay, but what are you wearing?" wonwoo couldn't help but laugh. he placed his glasses on the nightstand and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. “a shirt,” he replied and kissed your cheek, settling more comfortably against your side.

"this is some kind of joke, right?"

"what are you talking about, baby?," wonwoo muttered, grabbing his own book.

“you never sleep with your shirt on,” you whined. without even putting the bookmark in the book, you threw it somewhere and knelt next to wonwoo, waiting for an explanation.

"you were so crazy about me being shirtless earlier that i'd rather not take it off now so you don't go insane again. i wouldn't want anything to happen to you, hm," he hummed, patting your thigh, as if that didn’t just make you go nuts.

“wonwoo, please?” you wanted nothing more than to wipe his stupid smirk off his face, you knew he was just teasing you now.

smiling sweetly at you, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, throwing it to the ground. "better?" he asked, amused. you wanted to scream yes, but instead you threw yourself at him and snuggled into his side, finding your usual place in the crook of his neck. “much better,” you huffed happily.

“oh baby,” wonwoo murmured, kissing your temple.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @soul-is-a-strange-kid @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @wonvsmile @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @chillseo @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds

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viennakarma · 1 month

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My dearest friend and enemy

Part 1 | Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: You and Fernando always dreamed of the day you'd get into Formula 1. Unfortunately, the competition, the pride and the stubborness, get in the way of a beautiful friendship.

Word count: 7.8k

Tags: female!reader, driver reader, coming of age, ups and downs of a friendship, brocedes coded, very very angsty, cursing, anger, fights, overuse of flavio briatore as a plot device, lots of low blows, sprinkles of romance, kissing, making out, happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Note: Someone requested this, with this very detailed request, and it has consumed my every thought for the past week or two. I had to tweak some things from the request here and there, hope it's ok. It's heavily inspired by brocedes. Obviously we don't have all the facts with whatever happened to Lewis and Nico, but I have my own theories, that I tossed around this story here and there. (There is a lot of info that is wrong or inaccurate, I did this on purpose to fit my narrative, if you catch them, please ignore)

I'm sorry if it feels rushed, this was getting way too long and I just wanted to follow my heart. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx

[If you have never listened to Tamino, or never heard this song, please do a favor to your brain and heart, and listen!]

Find me on Twitter!

PART 2 (END)

You wouldn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry.

You repeated those words to yourself as you stared at your fucked up kart, it wasn’t even starting. You didn’t have any more money to repair it, and if you didn’t, then you wouldn’t be able to keep going in the competition.

“Hey, are you alright kid?” Someone stopped you, and your tears fell down. You used the sleeve of your overalls to wipe your face.

“I won’t make it to the final round of the competition,” you pointed to your kart.

The boy knelt down beside you, taking a look at your kart. It was the first time you really looked at him. He was a bit older than you, probably two or three years, since you had seen him in the next category, and you knew he was one of the best from what you could see.

He walked away suddenly, but came back a minute later with a tool box. He knelt down and started tinkering with your kart.

“What- what are you doing?” You asked crouching beside him. He only hummed, seemingly concentrating on his work.

After a few minutes of silence, he asked you to test to see if it would work, and you started your kart, and it did work.

“Oh my god!” You smiled, leaving the kart, “how- how much does it cost?”

“Don’t worry, I wanted to help,” he shrugged, putting back his tools.

“Are you sure?” You asked again.

“Yes,” he stood up, and as his eyes found yours, shining under the sunlight, you smiled at each other.

“Thank you so much!” You said, offering a hand for him to shake.

“I’m Fernando,” he said, and as you said your name back, he smiled a little shyly and just said, “I know.”

“You know?” You whispered.

“Yeah. I’ve seen you in your kart. You’re good.”

You bashed under his praise, cheeks warming and stomach full of butterflies.

From then on, you and Fernando became friends, always meeting up in karting competitions, despite being usually in different categories, since he was a bit older than you. But you’d always be seen together on those occasions, or either of you on the stands, cheering for the other. Your parents knew you were close friends, and after a while, your parents would take turns at taking you two for competitions, usually going together.

You met again when you got to the Spanish Junior Championship, it was your first time at that competition and it would be Fernando’s third. Your rivalry was mostly playful in that competition, you were still the best of friends, even when you got close to his score, you still managed to leave the rivalry on the track. When it ended and you stared up at Fernando from the second place podium, you felt proud of him, happy even. You understood that he had more experience than you, winning that competition three times in a row, and you always would have next year to catch up to him.

That day when he took your hand to walk back to his dad, he held your hand tight. And when they dropped you off at home, you winked at him.

“I’ll catch you next year.” You walked to the door hearing him and José Luis laughing back in the car.

You didn’t manage to catch him next year. Fernando reached new heights as he moved up to world championships. Life took you apart, and without your greatest opponent in the championship, you took it home for three years in a row.

The next few years, you and Fernando were mostly apart. The distance was eating you thin, even when you two managed to talk for a couple of hours on the phone, or whenever he sent you letters talking about his biggest achievements. You still saw each other over summer and winter, which was what mostly kept your bond strong. You also managed to kart for fun sometimes, or go for ice cream, or just sit on the porch of your house, talking about life. You two always shared an ice cream on your birthdays, a tradition that was born ever since you were 13, and you and Fernando gathered together every coin you had to be able to buy one ice cream cone that you happily shared sitting on a sidewalk.

“We’ll make it to Formula 1 one day, Nena.”

You laughed. Despite being the greatest dream of them all, by that time, it had been twenty years since the last woman had been in a Formula 1 car, really competing. You wanted to, so bad, but you didn’t want to get any hope for it to be crushed later on.

“You, most likely, Nano. You’re brilliant, I’m sure you’re going to be a world champion one day,” you said, playful, “just don’t forget us peasants when you’re rich and famous.”

“You have too much faith in me, Nena,” he shook his head.

“No, I just know stuff. When you get your world championship, I hope you will hear my voice in your head telling you I told you so.”

He laughed it off.

Fernando extended you a bottle of cheap wine, it was his way of celebrating your 18th birthday, now you were of age. The wine warmed you up, leaving a pretty stain in both of your lips.

“What about that girl you liked? Are you dating her yet?” You asked to break the silence.

“No…” he shrugged then took the bottle from you to take a chug straight from it, “she’s not for me.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, even though he didn’t look particularly unhappy about it.

“Don’t be. It was just a silly crush,” his lips turned down, “The girls don’t find me attractive enough,” he shook his head, feeling shy for having this conversation with you, “and I don’t know, I’ve always been a little shy, I guess. I don’t have much experience in romance. None, if I’m being honest.”

“None?!” You sounded shocked at his lack of romance. He just shook his head.

At eighteen you had your fair share of teen love, having crushes here and there, sometimes even sharing kisses under the bleachers at school. Fernando was your best friend and you knew him like no one, and you could see that he was lonely and feeling embarrassed, up until that point, his life had been school, karting and work to fund his karting.

“Would you like to?” You asked, suddenly turning to him after drinking a sip of courage from the wine bottle.

“Like to what?” He frowned.

“To be kissed?” You whispered, and looked behind you, inside your house, where your parents were inside.

Your heart raced faster than you ever did, his pretty eyes looking for your face, trying to find any sign of joking, like you were just being silly. But you were serious, looking at his face intently. You were about to back pedal when he nodded softly.

“What-” his voice failed, and he gulped nervously, “what should I do?”

“Just follow my lead, and you will feel what to do,” you said, extending a hand and holding his face, “close your eyes.”

He did, and you just closed the distance quietly, but when you had barely touched his lips with yours, he bursted out laughing, leaning back. You also laughed at the strangeness of the situation.

“It’s ok, we don’t have to, Nano” you recovered, but he shook his head, giggling.

“No, sorry, sorry! You’re my favorite person, I trust you,” he sighed, closing his eyes again.

You held his face, trying to get closer again, and this time he let you. With a soft press, you pecked his lips for a couple of seconds. You felt butterflies in your stomach, and they pushed you to push into his lips, mouth opening a little and him following your lead. One of his hands found your face, and you deepened the kiss. He was inexperienced but surprisingly patient, letting you lead and slowly picking your pace and moves. Your kiss turned into an almost make out session, lasting long minutes, with Fernando getting the hang of it with every passing second. When you parted, his cheeks and lips were red, and you two smiled nervously at each other.

“Was that ok?” You asked, suddenly insecure.

“More than ok,” he whispered back, “I think we-”

A loud noise from inside your house made you two jump away from each other, and a second later, your mom’s voice boomed through the door, reminding you of your curfew, and checking your watch, you noticed it was almost eleven.

“Sorry, Nano. I have to go,” you stood up and he followed you.

“See you Saturday to go karting?” He asked just to confirm the plans you had made earlier.

“See you,” you waved awkwardly before sprinting inside your house.

Skipping to your room, you locked the door behind you and pressed a hand to your lips, still warm from kissing your best friend. Going to your window, you pulled on the curtains and watched through the gap as Fernando left, calmly walking down the street.

You never talked about it. And when you met again at the end of the week, none of you mentioned the kiss, things quickly went back to normal as you two pretended it never happened. Over a few months, your heart never let you forget about the kiss you shared with your best friend, and whenever you laid in bed to sleep, your mind would wander back to that specific night. You spent months building up the courage to confess you had feelings for him, and you wanted to be more than friends. Your choice was to tell him on his birthday, when you usually would go for a birthday ice cream.

“I need to tell you something-” You said at the same time he muttered, “Can I tell you something?”

“Go ahead,” he said, gesturing to you, but at that point, your bravery quickly faded.

“No, you first. You’re the birthday boy!”

“Uh, I’m dating a girl. I’m going to introduce her to you and my family at the birthday party tonight.”

That moment, with a smile frozen on your face, a small part of you was ripped forever. The excitement and fear of a young love turned into stone at the pit of your stomach. To this day, you don’t know how you managed to not burst into tears that very moment. Instead, you kept smiling, asking Fernando for more details so he could get distracted and not notice the pain in your eyes.

Managing to bury what you decided to call a silly teen infatuation after a few months, your friendship with Fernando became even stronger everyday that passed.

You made it to the international and European competitions, winning the former twice in a row, and the latter once. You were in the Euro Open when Fernando made it to Formula 1.

He told you personally, when he signed with Minardi, and you were so happy you jumped on his arms, hugging him tight and screaming.

“I told you! I told you!” You shouted, as he carried your feet from the floor, “My best friend is in Formula 1! Oh my god, Nano!” You let go of him, your smile barely fitting your face, “I’m gonna be insufferable! I’m claiming bragging rights right now!”

He only laughed at your happy ramble.

You balanced your competitions with working double shifts for almost two months, so you could afford to go to the Spanish Grand Prix the year of his Formula One debut. He didn’t win anything that year, but he still had your immense support every step of the way. When waves of self doubt came and left him shaken, you’d hug him and whisper softly how he was just a rookie, how he would still have time to prove himself.

“You’re gonna be one of the best there is, Nano.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

He also would show you support whenever your schedule at the Euro Open didn’t coincide with his at Formula 1. It was one of the best feelings to get to the podium and see your best friend as you held the trophy. When you finally found him after the podium, he hugged you for a moment, commenting on his favorite moments from your race. As you stood, he gestured to someone, and a beautiful girl came closer.

“Nena, this is my girlfriend, Lucia,” he pointed. Your smile froze for a second. Another one, since the girl from last year couldn’t handle the distance of dating someone who was constantly traveling the world.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” You shook her hand, suddenly self conscious of your frizzy hair and sweat damp overalls. She was so pretty. So much prettier than you.

Lucia was pretty and kind, a little bit clingy, but she treated you very well, and wasn’t jealous of your friendship with Fernando, different from the last one. All your flings never went as far as becoming boyfriend or girlfriend, so you decided to focus more on racing and trying to make a name for yourself.

“Fernando,” you called one of the rare days you two were both free and could laze around, this time, sitting on the ground of the garden, staring at the clear sky and sharing a pint of ice cream.

“Hm?”

“I talked to your dad, and you’re going to be free the day of the last race of the Euro Open, so I was wondering if you will come to see me become the champion?” You turned to him, a smile adorning your face.

“Confident, are you?” He teased your certainty that you would win the competition.

“Not confident, just focused,” you corrected him, and started explaining the date of the race, but as you talked, his smile quickly faded and you stopped.

“I’m sorry, Nena. It’s Lucia’s graduation that day, I can’t miss it.”

You swallowed, thinking it would matter so much to you that he’d be there, but at the same time, you didn’t want to be selfish or make it seem like you’re competing with the girl he loved. You tried to disguise the disappointment in your face, but he noticed. At that point he knew you for half of your lives, he knew very well when you tried to mask your sadness. And unfortunately, he had been on the receiving end of that sad face one too many times.

“Oh,” you nodded, “Don’t worry, I totally understand.”

Fernando pressed his lips thin, your meek voice doing nothing to soothe the squeezing in his heart.

The day you won the Euro Open, you could barely contain your happiness as you stood on the podium, showing your trophy to your parents, who were watching you all emotional. As the podium ceremony finished, you walked back to your parents, your mom wiping her tears and your dad the happiest. Then, you finally noticed Fernando was with them.

“Nano!” You hugged him.

“Congratulations, champion!” He said. Your heart was so full you thought it would explode, so all you managed to say were two words.

“You came.”

“You called.”

Later you found out through your mom, who found out through Fernando’s mom, who found out from Fernando’s dad, that Fernando and Lucia had broken up. They said it was because of the distance and the relationship didn’t last more than seven months. You couldn’t blame her, you as his best friend barely saw him that year either.

You became a reserve driver for Renault in 2003, meeting Flavio Briatore yourself after you won the Formula 3000 two years in a row. You knew that, by that time, Fernando had ties with Flavio, but the man assured you it had nothing to do with Fernando, and everything to do with you being extremely talented.

Still, that same week you found Fernando, to inquire if he had anything to do with Flavio’s invitation, but he assured you that you’d achieved that with your own merit. The unexpected chance to race came when by the end of the following year, Fernando’s teammate was fired by the end of the season. So you had to replace him for the remaining three races of the season, the team fighting for P2 in the constructors championship. The first two races you went alright placing P7 and P5, but still not where you wanted to place.

“Hey, you’re doing great, Nena,” Fernando told you right before the race started. He knew you were upset, frustration practically emanating from your body.

“Not as great as I can do,” you shook your head.

“Just do your best, ignore everything else.”

You nodded, before closing your overalls and gettin ready to get in the car. That race, you and Fernando managed to race just like in your karting days, with a silent partnership never seen before coming from Fernando. You placed a 2-3 podium, him ahead of you.

When you got out of the car, you jumped straight into his arms, screaming and celebrating. Your first ever podium in Formula 1.

During post race interviews you accidentally let out to the media that you and Fernando were childhood best friends, which they took as a personal reason to go digging into your lives.

Next season, Flavio signed you with the team. But before anything, he sat you down for a talk. He explained how Fernando would be top priority this year, you were a rookie, and they would offer you all the support but you had to help Fernando first.

“You will gain experience, work together with your best friend, and we can achieve great things this year. And depending on how good of a performance you show this year, next year you will be able to race for the championship, yes?” Flavio explained.

And you were fine with that, Fernando would be the main priority while you took the year to get used to the car, to being in an entirely new category, while helping your best friend reach his peak. It was the dream, finally. It was the thing both of you had daydreamed together, nothing could get in the way of that.

So you did just that. You kept your head down, fighting fiercely against your rivals, and keeping yourself out of the way whenever you and Fernando were close in a race. Your time would come, as Flavio had promised. That season you managed good results in the points, and even got five podium finishes, which landed you fourth in the drivers’ championship and managed Renault to win the constructors.

That day in Interlagos, during the Brazilian Grand Prix, you woke up knowing Fernando would become world champion. You didn’t tell him to not put any more pressure on him. He only needed a podium to mathematically become the champion of the world.

He finished P3, and you finished P7. Seeing Fernando radiantly happy, dancing, shouting and jumping was etched forever in your brain as one of your happiest memories. The way he eventually found you, holding you firmly against him, the both of you crying happy tears became headlines all around the world.

“I told you, didn’t I?” You broke the hug so you could stare into his red rimmed eyes.

“You did. You’re right more often than not, I’ve come to realize.” He whispered. When someone tried to put a mic in your faces, Fernando pushed it away.

“This is your moment, go.” You gestured to the other side, where he had to go before the podium.

Looking up from the ground to Fernando, you were so happy you thought your heart would burst open. And you couldn’t wait for it to be your turn, to feel this happiness the other way around.

That night, you, Fernando and the entire team got ready to party, to celebrate his championship. You dressed up to the nines, putting makeup and spending a good half an hour styling your hair. When you left the elevator, meeting the whole team at the lobby, they shouted and whistled saying you were pretty. It made you a bit shy but you liked the attention.

You and Fernando danced and drank like crazy that night, going strong all the way into the morning. When the party ended and you two sat on your suite balcony, watching the sun rise, you bought out an ice cream pint you had kept in the room minibar.

“How do you feel, Mr. World Champion?” You sat cross legged in front of him.

“Like a dream come true, sometimes I don’t even believe it’s real,” he said, staring into the horizon.

“Remember when we would talk about this moment?” You took his hand in yours, as he nodded, “Wow. This is great. I’m so happy for you, and happy for fifteen year-old Nano, the bright eyed boy that fixed my kart charge free.”

It’s barely a second after you finished speaking that Fernando leaned into your space and just kissed your lips. It took you a second to understand what was going on, but when his hand found your hair, you reciprocated. His lips, that had been cold from the ice cream quickly became warm under your ministrations. You held his shoulders and let him pull you closer, until you were straddling his lap. The kiss was messy, all over the place, clanking lips, teeth and tongue. You moaned softly as he squeezed your ass, and you pulled his hair at the nape, grinding down on his lap, making him groan too.

“We should not,” he said, breaking the kiss. You nodded, panting.

“Yeah, totally, we-” you tried to speak but he nipped at your neck and you lost all train of thought.

“No, we won’t ruin-” he tried again but you pulled his hair, forcing his head up so you could kiss him.

“You’re right-” you muttered against his lips, right before smashing it when you kissed him again. You stayed there, kissing, making out like you were teenagers again, too scared to reach for each other's clothes and take the next step.

When the sun was fully up in the sky, and whatever was left of the ice cream had melted, your alarm rang, and you and Fernando parted. You were about to invite him to sleep with you for a few hours when he paused, his face worried. Fernando took one of your hands.

“This is a one time- thing, right?” He frowned, and you swallowed before nodding.

“Yes, of course.” You don’t correct him with memories of your eighteenth birthday.

“I just, I don’t want anything to ruin our friendship,” he stared at you, visibly scared for your friendship, and you didn’t have the heart to ask for more.

“It won’t ruin, I promise. If you want, we can forget it ever happened,” you said, hoping and praying he would change his mind. But he looked relieved at your words.

After he left, you sat down on the bed, disheartened, knowing that these scraps of affection would have to be stored in a safe spot inside your heart, and would be nothing more than memories, and what-ifs you’d only dare to look at late in your sleepless nights. You wondered how many times he would have to undervalue your romantic affections for you to understand he didn’t want you and never would. That was the second time you shared a moment, and the second time he had dismissed it. It’s not meant to be, you whispered to yourself.

When the new season started, you had gotten a grip over your feelings for him, focused on moving on. Being in love with your best friend for around a decade was pathetic enough.

Fernando was great during the start of the season, scoring two wins within the first three races. And despite not being the results you wanted, you placed top ten in all of them, even managing one podium finish.

When the fourth race came, though, it was when you and Fernando started to collapse. It was a very carefully plotted race for you and your team, and after managing your tyres with care, you didn’t have to pit twice. And you won, for the first time ever, you stood on the top of the podium. Unfortunately, Fernando didn’t get a podium. Holding your trophy, you looked down from the podium looking to your team, and searching for Fernando.

He wasn’t there, and your heart shattered a bit with his absence.

Maybe he had a problem and couldn’t be there for you. Maybe he was busy.

You went down to speak to the press, happily talking about strategies, how you and your team masterminded it, how you managed to preserve your tyres for longer than expected.

“How do you and Fernando manage to balance your friendship out of the track with the rivalry happening inside the track?” Someone asked. You were caught by surprise, taking a few seconds to actually compute the words he said.

“Well, I haven’t seen Fernando yet, but I believe he’d be happy for my good result as much as I’d be happy for him,” you told him, but immediately regretted it as the reporter had a gotcha expression on his face.

“Well, actually, this is what Fernando said a few minutes ago when he gave an interview-”

The man gave you a tape recorder attached to a pair of headphones, and your stomach filled with dread as he pressed rewind and play.

“Fernando, today’s win puts your best friend as a contender for the championship, what do you say?”

“Well, I believe she is talented, but too young and not yet ready to face me and actually compete for the championship.”

His voice was bitter, like he didn’t see you as nothing but a bug under his shoes. Instead of making you sad, it only left you seething in anger, but as you removed the headphones, you controlled the urge to smash the headphones on the nearest wall and smirked coldly to the camera that was waiting for your reaction.

“What do you think about Fernando saying you’re still not ready to become world champion?” The reporter urged, waiting for a beef that he would successfully get.

“Well, I guess he feels threatened by me, so I’ll take that as a compliment,” you shrugged, not caring about adding more fuel to the fire. If Fernando thought he could go running his mouth and you’d be fine or not jab him back, he was in for a surprise.

After wrapping up the interviews, you finally managed to go to your room and take a shower. You were getting ready to leave when Fernando found you again, walking into your room without bothering to knock. You didn’t even look at him, just kept packing your bag.

“Nena…”

“Don’t fucking talk to me,” you shook your head, holding on to the anger instead of allowing yourself to be sad. How he was able to ruin your first ever win in Formula 1, you couldn’t know.

“Nena, please, just-” He tried again, blocking your path to the door.

“No! Fuck you, Fernando!” You took a step back, letting your bag fall to the floor, an accusatory finger pointing to his face, “How dare you do this to me? You know how many times I cheered for you? How many times I wasn’t even on the podium and still, I was happy for you? Huh? I was there for you every step of the way, and you can’t be there for me once? Now you go out there and disregard my win in front of the whole world? What did I ever do to you for you to say that shit about me?” Your voice trembled, but you refused to cry in front of him, “I’d never do that to you, you selfish asshole.”

“I shouldn’t have said that, but I was pole and didn’t even manage to turn it into a podium? I was upset, the strategy fucked me up! I know I should not have said that! You’re right! I was selfish and an asshole-”

“Damn right you were!” You shouted, then picked up your bag, “I don’t want to see you right now.”

You walked past him, leaving at once.

That night, you went to celebrate with the team and without your teammate, you got pretty wasted, dancing and drinking like you had never done before. You refused to let yourself feel down because of Fernando’s big mouth. Dancing the night away, you didn’t stop even when people on the team asked you to, since you were getting out of hand. You were grinding on a stranger, dancing to reggaeton when you felt a hand on your arm.

“Let’s go,” the voice said and you turned, seeing Fernando in front of you. He looked like he was dressed in pajamas and hair all disheveled.

He was asleep when someone on the team called him because they wanted to leave and you were being difficult, so they hoped that your best friend could come pick you up and convince you to leave.

“Excuse me?!” You pulled your arm from him.

“We’re leaving!” Fernando said, pointing to where your team was, seeing it empty, “you’re not going to stay here alone.”

Begrudgingly, you let him lead you outside, one hand in your arm, and the other one on your back. You stumbled in your heels, and Fernando pressed you against the wall, kneeling to remove your shoes and help you walk better outside. Silently, he drove you back to the hotel, while you were with your arms crossed and sulking.

He walked you to your room, helping you change into pajamas, then tucked you into the bed. He stood there for a second, pushing your hair away from your face as you closed your eyes, letting his knuckles run over your cheek softly.

“I wish-” you mumbled, sleepy, “I wish you were happy for me.”

His eyes filled with tears, seeing just how awful he had been to you. A dream was coming true and all he could think of was himself.

“I am, Nena. I’m so happy for you,” He said, but you didn’t answer, already asleep, due to being tired from the race and heavily drunk.

You woke up with a pounding headache and a stomach churning hangover. Still, you showered, drank tea and got ready to go home. When Fernando knocked on the door of your hotel room later that day to apologize, you were already on a flight to Spain. Your birthday would be later that week and your family wanted to throw you a dinner party.

Your birthday was nice, despite obviously feeling Fernando’s absence.

You were sitting alone on the porch, after the party, when he showed up, late in the night. You didn’t say anything as he walked up to you.

“Peace offering?” Fernando showed you a small ice cream pint “I’m so sorry. I never meant to undermine you. I was a jerk, and you didn’t deserve any of it. I’m so, so sorry.”

You hesitated for a second, but his eyes were so gentle, remorseful, that you couldn’t help but give in. You jumped into his arms so suddenly he almost dropped the ice cream, but he managed to balance it and hug you back with the other arm.

“Happy birthday, Nena,” he whispered,

“Thank you,” you said, without letting him go, “I’m sorry too. I apologize for implying you felt threatened by me.”

“You should have called me worse things,” he whispered.

You ended up sharing the ice cream once again, talking about life.

Deep down, you hoped things would go back to normal, but a part of you knew that things would never be the same. You two were too much alike for anything to work. Too proud. Too stubborn. Too competitive. When you were good, it was great, but when you were mad, your words were daggers.

The both of you tried to stay normal the next couple of races, but it was strained, forced, especially when you were racing each other. You supposed Fernando was used to you backing down for him, since it was all you had done the year before when you were a rookie. But now you were used to the car, to explore all the possibilities while pushing your tyres to their maximum, while trying insane strategies and making it work. You were a risky driver, just like him, often seen as reckless.

All the while, the media started catching up to it. They went digging to find pictures of you and Fernando when you were kids, in karting and junior competitions, finding out people to interview, old classmates, people you two had met over the years, telling everyone about your close friendship, about you growing up together. Despite you both refusing to comment on your past, the journalists would always find a way to learn more and more about you.

Eventually, it got to your nerves, harsh words were often said whenever questions were thrown at you. You were in a press conference, where Fernando was also there along with a few other drivers.

“It is noticeable that you and Alonso’s driving style is very similar, would you say that he taught you everything you know?”

You didn’t like his tone, you hated whatever he was implying, not because of Fernando, but because it meant to reduce your efforts and abilities.

“No, Alonso has no part in my racing,” your tone was firm against the mic, and you could feel Fernando’s eyes on you, two chairs away on your left.

“But you grew up together?” The man insisted, and you loudly sighed, exhausted from everyone trying to make you talk about it all the time.

“And that doesn’t mean anything!” You said with gritted teeth.

There was a moment of silence right after your outburst, and you didn’t dare to look anywhere besides ahead. When the questions moved on to other drivers, you breathed again. Finally sparing a glance to Fernando, he only looked at you for a fleeting moment, but you knew him so well, you could recognize his teary eyes. Only then it dawned on you how badly you fucked up by insinuating he didn’t mean anything to you.

When the conference ended, you watched as Fernando left really quickly, not even looking in your direction. You ran, trying to find him, going to his room that was right beside yours.

“Fernando-” You walked inside, not even bothering to knock.

“So, our friendship means nothing!” He shook his head, looking disappointed.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Nano!”

“Now I’m Nano again?” He scoffed.

You wanted to cry and plead, to explain that you never meant it this way. You were just tired of people trying to attribute your success to others. You were tired of people comparing the two of you, and saying everything you were came from him, just because he joined the category five years before you.

“Fernando, please-”

“Leave.” His eyes were cold, almost detached when he pointed to the door.

“Please, Nano…” You whispered, feeling your own eyes welling up with tears. He just shook his head ‘no’ again.

You walked out quietly, not allowing your tears to fall down as you got into your room, inhaling and puffing your chest. You didn’t let up, trying to talk to him again, because it was just a misunderstanding.

Three days later, you tried to find him again, after the race ended, hoping he would have calmed down after a good result, a P2 in that race. You knocked on his door and entered. He was changing clothes as you walked in, he finished dressing a shirt.

“What?” He said, barely looking at you, as he sat down on the sofa, brushing his hair.

“I wanted to talk about what I said during-” your words were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Fernando said, and soon, two pretty girls walked in, wearing pretty dresses, one blonde and the other brunette, “pretty girls!”

You recognized they were grid girls, and they looked familiar from this weekend.

“Can we talk?” You said, trying to make him at least send the girls away for a moment.

“I’m listening,” he smirked, and you gulped as the blonde ran a hand up and down his chest. The brunette leaned into his ear with a seductive smile, whispering something.

“Fernando, please…” You asked again and he didn’t even look at you, laughing at something the girls whispered to him, “I’m sorry,” you whispered, before turning in your heels and leaving his room.

Shame and jealousy burned inside you.

He started giving you a silent treatment from then on and three races later, your silent strain came to a head, once again.

You were right behind him at the race, you P3 and him right ahead, but you had enough speed to outpace him soon, maybe a couple more laps and you’d equal him enough to try and overtake, you rode turn 2 smoothly, but as you two kept going, Fernando half a second in front of you, he suddenly hit the brakes, making you hit his rear.

“What the fuck? He brake tested me!” You shouted into the radio, reassessing, you gulped, noticing the damage to your front right tyre, “I’ve got damage!”

You called into the box to change your tyre, which fucked up your entire strategy, and made you go from the P3 to P9 in the grid. You managed to recover a little bit, but still ended P5 and out of the podium.

The rage was burning your chest as you went to the garage absolutely fuming. After all the podium proceedings and celebrations, you waited for Fernando, but he just walked past you without a care in the world. That made you even more pissed, and nobody managed to hold you when you tossed your helmet aside and marched up to him.

“That was really fucked up, Fernando!” You cut his path, making him stop short. Suddenly a bunch of people started gathering around you two, everyone ready for a show.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He shrugged, but you knew him like the palm of your own hand, and you knew that condescending smile he showed you.

“You are a fucking coward if you have to brake test me just to get a podium,” you said, venomous, feeling your dad trying to pull you away and dissipate the commotion. But you weren’t done, “you’re pathetic, Fernando.”

“That’s enough!” Your dad said, pulling you back.

“Or maybe you’re just not good enough, have you thought about that?” Fernando said back, and you jumped on him, trying to get close enough for violence, but your dad held your waist, removing your feet from the ground and pulling you back.

“Man up, Fernando! You fucking asshole!” You shouted as your dad dragged you back into the garage.

Your dad placed you inside your room, grabbing water so you could drink and calm down. When he turned back, a sob broke from your throat, and you covered your mouth with a hand, trying to muffle the sounds of your crying. You shook as you cried again, your dad hugging you close and murmuring to you to let it all out.

You never thought your friendship with Fernando would ever come to this. You weren’t even sure of how the buildup happened that led to this.

“I don’t recognize him anymore, Papá. I don’t recognize my best friend anymore,” you shook your head, your voice breaking in hiccups. You pressed the plant of your hand to your eyes to try and stop the tears falling down, but it was useless.

“It’s ok, bebé. You’re both hotheaded, you need to talk calmly, try and fix it.”

You didn’t try to talk to him. He was wrong when he brake tested you, and if he couldn’t apologize for that, and for the hurtful words he said, then it was better to stay that way.

It only got worse as the season went on, the team tried to force you to give him advantages, but you refused many times, making the competition for the World Drivers Championship be between the two of you.

“We need to talk,” Flavio called you a day after another one of your wins, one that Fernando placed third, one that he didn’t even look at your face when you were up there.

“What happened?” You sat down in front of him by the table.

“You have to follow team orders. When we say you have to switch places with Fernando, you switch. You are deliberately going against orders, what is going on? You and Fernando are now in a cold war, the media caught up, the other drivers caught up too, why-”

“Am I the only one getting lectured?” You crossed your arms, seeing Flavio getting red in the face, angry.

“No. I want answers from both of you, and the way you’re being aggressive with each other, we believe it’s better to talk to you separately,” Flavio sighed, “What is happening? Before it was interesting, a beautiful rivalry, but now you way past that. You’re harming your own races and the team.”

“You talk to Fernando. He thinks because I won’t back down he needs to use every dirty trick in the book to damage my race. If he can’t handle competition like an adult, then he shouldn’t be here.”

Suddenly, the door opened, which made you jump. Fernando walked inside, fuming.

“So that’s what you think of me?” He raised his voice.

“Yes, you have been acting like a fucking kid,” you stood up.

“Me? You told the whole world our friendship means nothing to you! Have you any idea how that made me feel?!” Fernando got closer.

“Do you know how many times people disdain my career to pin it to someone else? To attribute my successes to you, or to Flavio, or even my dad?! You’ve got no idea what it's like being a woman here!”

“Power got to your head! You think you have to walk all over everyone to get what you want!”

“Power?! Literally every man here does that! You do that too, Fernando!”

“Funny you say that since you wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me!” He shouted, pointing a finger to the ground.

“Fernando, stop.” Flavio muttered, coming closer to where you were face to face with Fernando.

You frowned, your anger completely dissipated and what was left was dread. And a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“What?” You hated how your voice was nothing more than a vulnerable whisper.

“Fernando, enough!” Flavio commanded out loud, gesturing with a hand.

“What do you mean, Fernando?!” You asked again, ignoring Flavio trying to pacify the fight.

“I was the one to ask Flavio to sponsor you. I asked him to take a shot and invest in your career!” Fernando’s words were poison and in his eyes you couldn’t see anything left of your former best friend.

“Is it true, Flavio?” You asked but your eyes never left Fernando’s.

“Yes, but if we calm down, we can talk like adults.”

You couldn’t even come up with words, speechless not only from what Fernando told you, but from the tone he used. It was like he had punched you straight in the gut. You couldn’t contain your tears anymore, the lump in your throat threatening to suffocate you. You wanted to jump on him, to push him to the ground and punch his face. You wanted to scream in his face and call him all the dirty names you could think of. You tried to hold onto the anger but your limbs were still, and the pain expanded inside you like wildfire. He had lied to you, in the biggest step of your career he had lied to you. Even when you pressed for answers, he lied straight to your face.

You stared into his eyes one last time. It was the first time he had seen you really cry. He had seen you teary eyed or even emotional before, but it was the first time he had seen you truly cry.

“You’re dead to me, Fernando.”

Was all you managed to rasp, fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Flavio called your name as you walked away, but you never looked back and didn’t stop until you were inside your car, wailing like a baby. You sobbed all the way back to the hotel. You cried as you packed your bags, and tried but failed to contain your tears all the way back home, until you were at your parents’ door, sobbing on their sofa.

They didn’t ask anything until a couple of hours later when you managed to stop crying.

“I hate Fernando, so much, Mamá,” you whispered.

“Honey, don’t say that. Don’t do or say something you might regret later on,” She told you. You shook your head.

“I’m done with him. Done.” You bit back a sob, “he was so cruel, you had to see it.”

“He’s your best friend, dear. I’m sure it will be alright later on.”

“You should’ve seen the hate in his eyes, I don’t know him anymore. That’s not my Nano.”

So, your racing career was a lie. You didn’t make it because of your talent or your efforts. You were in Formula 1 because of Fernando. That was the cruelest thing someone ever said to you, not only because he was mean in the way he said it, but because with a few words he diminished your entire career. And what could you come up with to contest? He was right. You would never be there without him.

You wanted to give up so badly at that moment. You wanted to stay home and never come back, but you knew you couldn’t, your sense of duty was loud and you had to make it work. You had to prove that you deserved your spot in Formula 1, that all of Flavio’s forced investment on you was worth it.

You had to prove to Fernando you were more than a friend he pitied, more than a charity case he took so he could throw it at your face later.

It was one of the hardest things to realize and accept, the fact that he wasn’t your friend anymore. Maybe he never was. Despite all the disagreements the past couple of years, and all the beautiful history you had before the pinnacle of motorsport, maybe he never saw you as a friend. You thought you’d never treat a friend the way he treated you.

So you had to prove Fernando wrong.

NOTE: If you want to be tagged on part 2, please let me know in the comments!

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 #formula one #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso #brocedes #Spotify

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