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#and then i remembered but not the part before this and i think it was sth better but whatever its not the most important part
yandere-daydreams · 2 days
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file #4: the body mod fic.
part of the FREAK SHIT MARCH evidence packet.
pairing: yandere!wriothesley x reader (genshin).
length: 3.1k.
warnings: non/con touching + groping, nonconsensual piecing, dubiously consensual tattoos, permanent body modification, intimidation, needles, obsessive behavior, and unbalanced power dynamics.
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“Just one?”
The question had been hushed, meek, directed more towards your lap than the man sitting across from you. The warden – Wriothesley, you chided yourself, biting the inside of your cheek and attempting to remember what he’d asked you to call him, Wriothesley – broke into a wry smile, but nodded, leaning back in his armchair. “Just one,” he reassured. “And you’ll taken care of until your release date.”
You didn’t respond, but he must’ve seen the way you paled at the suggestion. “Having second thoughts?”
“No, it’s just—” You grit your teeth. Your eyes flitted up momentarily, but fell back to your legs just as quickly. “I… I’ve never really liked needles, I guess.”
You could see his eyes light up, his grin broadening as he tried to stifle his laughter. You scowled, but couldn’t blame him. He was used to dealing with hardened criminals, the scum of Teyvat, thieves and spies and murderers, and here you were – on the verge of fainting because he asked you to get a tattoo. “I promise, you don’t have anything to worry about.” At least he was trying to sound comforting, even if it was clearly a half-hearted effort. “I’ll make sure you’re in good hands.”
And he had, in a way.
You just wished he would’ve mentioned that those hands would be his own.
Calloused fingertips dug into your bicep as a scarred palm pressed into your skin, keeping one of your arms loosely secured against the mattress of the cot while the other was pinned between the bedframe and his chest (the placement unintentional, or so you hoped). You’d been shaking when he brought out that terrible machine – a vial of dark ink trapped inside of a cage of copper and steel; a single, silver needle protruding out of one end and a leather grip wrapped around the other – but it’d only taken an hour for fear to fade into boredom, another for boredom to drag on into a rotting, discolored sort of exhaustion. For as much as you’d been dreading it, there was more pressure than pain. It was repetitive, if anything – a monotonous pierce, stab, pierce, stab that you could only try your best not to focus on. You could already feel an ache settling below the skin of your shoulder, already knew that you wouldn’t be able to lift your arm for days, but you tried not to—
His needle stabbed into the thin skin over your shoulder blade, and you couldn’t stop yourself – letting out a low hiss as you flinched into the cot’s thin mattress. You expected Wriothesley to laugh, to drag a damp cloth over the affected area and mutter something like ‘bear with me’ or ‘my bad, love, my bad’ like he had a dozen times before, but instead, there was a muffled click as he switched off his awful machine, a dull clatter as he dropped it onto a bedside table already crowded with bottles of disinfectant and the nurse’s bizarre tools. “We’ll stop here. It’ll take another session, but I think you’ve been through enough for one day. For a virgin, especially.”
You were only half-listening; the phantom of his machine still buzzing in your ears. “Are you sure?” You asked, trying to hide how desperate you were not to spend another night in the empty infirmary with a man you barely knew. “It’s not that bad, I can go for another—”
“I’m sure. Sit up, I’ll let you have a look.”
You pursed your lips, but didn’t protest. You could see how Wriothesley had gotten into such an authoritative position. The way he spoke, his constant undertone of stern stability – it was hard to so much as imagine talking back to him, let alone breaking one of the rules that’d been meticulously and painstakingly drilled into you when you’d arrived at the Fortress of Meropide a little under a week ago. Still, you’d been terrified – too scared to so much as speak to another prisoner for the first two days. You weren’t dangerous. You couldn’t hold your own in a fight, or protect yourself if someone else, someone stronger decided they had a problem with you. You could barely even call yourself a criminal, but apparently, the Iudex hadn’t agreed. You’d been on your way to the fortress before he could finish reading out your sentence, and now, you were trapped in the darkest, deepest place in all of Fontaine, alone and so, so painfully vulnerable. If it hadn’t been for Wriothesley, you probably would’ve requested to forgo your imprisonment entirely and be sent straight to the gallows.
A hand on your shoulder, a softened lull to his voice. “You can sit up, can’t you? I’ll have to call Sigewinne, if you’re in that much pain.”
“Right, I— uh, sorry,” You stammered as you shook your head and pushed yourself up, careful to keep the thick, overly starched cot sheet pressed to your chest. The infirmary was empty, the door locked and sealed, and while Wriothesley hadn’t seemed to think much of ordering you to take off your shirt and lay face-down, you couldn’t bring yourself to brush off the stark, damp chill that came with any amount of exposure in the fortress so easily. You guessed that, after enough time, you’d get used to it. You guessed that, when you did, the thought of not being so cold so constantly wouldn’t make you feel so sick. “I…  I think I’m still getting used to this,” you went on, with a strained smile. “Still a little out of it, I guess.”
“That’s alright, love. We all take a few months to find a way to cope.” When you glanced over your shoulder, there was already a mirror in his hand – a compact, small enough to fit in his palm. You had to crane your neck to see it, but Wriothesley knew how to strike the right angle, and soon enough, the sprawling, spiraling pattern stretching from the lower curve of your shoulder blade to the ball of your shoulder came into view. It took you a moment to make out the pattern, but relief accompanied the delayed realization. Lumidouce bells, all blossoming and linked together by a single vine. He’d finished the linework, and there was a smattering of color in the bottom corner – only, oh, he’d gotten the shade wrong. Rather than deep violet, he’d used a light blue, more similar to ice than the water nearly everything in Fontaine stole its palette from. Judging by his expression, though, all beaming pride and low-brewing mirth, he hadn’t caught the mistake. “What do you think? Don’t keep me in suspense, now.”
“It’s… nice,” you said, the sentiment sincere despite your hesitance. And then, laughing, “I was—Well, it feels a little silly now, but I was terrified you’d leave me with, I don’t know, a sea monster or a giant wolf or something.”
“Maybe next time. Not a wolf, though - you don’t strike me as that vicious.” You bit your tongue, forcing yourself not to tell him there wouldn’t be a next time and opting to focus on the soreness starting to knot in your shoulder, instead. You swung your legs over the side of the cot, moving towards where you’d left your shirt draped over an unopened crate, but Wriothesley caught your wrist, tugging you gently back onto the thin mattress. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his playfulness suddenly more irritating than it had been, a few second ago. “I don’t think we’re finished, yet.”
Not for the first time, your smile wavered. “I… I thought we only agreed to one, sir.”
“Of course.” He squeezed your wrist teasingly. “One of each.”
Something heavy and spiked dropped into the pit of your stomach. This time, you couldn’t help the way your expression dropped. “Sir, that’s really not what I—”
“It’ll be worse the longer you put it off.” You weren’t dangerous. You weren’t a criminal. You weren’t strong, but Wriothesley was. Before you could so much as push yourself to your feet, his arm was around your waist and he was perched on the edge of the cot, one leg tucked underneath him to make more room for your body, soon pulled between his thighs. The back of your shoulder screamed where it pressed into his chest, but you managed to swallow the little, pitiful sound threatening to bubble past your lips and clung to your sheet – suddenly so much thinner than it’d seemed, seconds prior. If Wriothesley noticed your apparent panic, the distress of his prisoners was an inconvenience he was willing to endure. Only half-consciously, you tried to shove yourself away from him, but his muscle-bound arm was snaked around your waist before you could gain any distance, keeping you flush against his broad chest. He was so much bigger than you’d realized, when he was on the other side of that desk, when he was engraving something intrusive and permanent into the very fabric of your being. This had been a bad idea. Trusting anyone here had been a bad idea. You should never have—
Your elbow slammed into his diaphragm, and Wriothesley let out a slow grunt, his fingers burrowing into the plush of your side. “Easy now, love,” he half-muttered, half-breathed, bowing his head to speak into the side of your throat. “We had a deal, remember? Can you tell me what it was?”
“You—you said I wouldn’t get hurt if—” You forced yourself to stop, to swallow, to breathe. “But, I only agreed to get one tattoo, and you—”
“I said I’d take care of you. Get you a nice, cushy job with the fortress administrator, keep you out of any over-crowded bunks, make sure the other prisoners don’t cause you any trouble – that kind of thing. I’m really not supposed to play favorites, so even doing that much is going to take more than a little discretion on my part.”
“But, you offered to—”
“I said I’d take care of you, and I’m going to.” You could see him fishing something off of the bedside table with his free hand, but you forced yourself not to look, not to make the ever-growing pit in your stomach feel that much more hollow. “You’ve heard a few stories about what it’s like in the underworld, right? I try to keep all of you nice n’ safe, but a few are bound to fall through the cracks. Rehabilitation can only do so much and—well, I’m sure you know all about how bloodthirsty desperation can make someone.” There was a pause, an ebbing lull to the tenderness in his voice. “I’m just trying to keep you safe, sweetheart. Are you going to help me get a little practice in, while I do that?”
Practice. If he wanted practice, you were sure there were another hundred prisoners who’d willingly lay down and let him carve a hole through whatever he wanted to. Still, you did your best to calm yourself down, to stop thrashing, to shut your eyes and try to ignore the large, pulsing thing you could feel pressing into your ass. You didn’t nod, didn’t give him permission, but when his fist balled around the infirmary sheet and tugged it away from you, the only resistance you managed to scrape up was a slight frown and a wary glance in his direction. “You’re already in for a rough night,” he explained, as if that was any excuse. “Might as well get the hardest one out of the way first, right?”
You refused to let yourself linger on the implication that this wasn’t going to be the last, too.
You clenched your eyes shut as his large hand pawed at the right side of your chest, kneading into the softened flesh with an almost delicate sort of care. “It’s easier after a little stimulation,” he murmured, as if that meant he had to spend so long circling your nipple with a calloused thumb, occasionally swiping over the sensitive bud in a way that made your thighs twitch and your face burn. When your nipple was stiff and pebbled, he pulled away, but it was a momentary reprieve – torn away from you with a splash of freezing disinfectant. It dripped down your chest and filled the stagnant air with a thick, chemical haze as Wriothesley caught your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching tightly. You felt the long, curved tip of his piercing needle against your skin, and braced yourself for the pain. Wriothesley wasn’t kind enough not to drag it out, though. “Wanna count me down?”
You shook your head, pushing yourself that much closer to his chest, desperate for any kind of stability. You’d hoped that Wriothesley would take your clear obstinance as a sign not to drag it out any longer, but he seemed to savor it – the agony of the wait, the way the dread seemed to multiply tenfold every time you forced yourself to suck in a ragged inhale. Seconds seemed to pass like frozen honey, only just beginning to drip. You’d started to think he wouldn’t do it, that he’d just laugh and admit this was all part of some bizarre, invasive hazing ritual when Wriothesley let out an airy chuckle and plunged his needle into you.
Oh, archons.
You really thought the tattoo would’ve been worse.
It was faster, at least; a bright shock of pain followed immediately by a steady, throbbing sort of ache that seemed to drown out every other sensation and fill your mind with a buzzing, numbing static. You didn’t realize your eyes had shot open on reflex until tears blurred your vision, until you glanced down just in time to watch as he dragged the needle through and replaced it with a small, silver stud – a barbell, as wrong as it felt to think of yourself having something so vulgar attached to you. You were crying unabashedly by the time he finished, pain and humiliation dripping down your cheeks in hot, wet streams, but Wriothesley’s shallow pool of sympathy must’ve run dry. “Ah, don’t make that face, sweetheart – we’re only halfway done.” You felt him panting into the crook of your neck as his hand found the other side of your chest. The last threads of his veil of composure frayed and broke apart as he groped unabashedly at your chest, toying with your nipple as your sobs echoed off of the clinic walls. You felt something thick and hot and wet crash against your collarbone and drip down the curve of your chest, and forced yourself to believe it was only disinfectant. That there was nothing it could’ve been except disinfectant.
Wriothesley’s hips rocked against your ass, the rigid outline of his cock pressing into you, incinerating any lingering delusions you might’ve had of helpful prison wardens exchanging one favor for another. Five fingers bit into the plush of your chest as he brought his needle to your unmutilated nipple, his hand surprisingly steady despite the airy, drawling moans he was pouring into your throat. “P-please don’t,” you managed, fighting to speak above the pathetic cries and choking fear doing their best to strangle out your voice. “Please, I can’t—I don’t want to—”
But, Wriothesley wasn’t listening. It wasn’t a spark, this time, but a red-hot knife, stabbed deep into your chest and twisted as far as it could go. You heard Wriothesley let out a rough groan, felt something warm and damp against your ass, and then, you were gone.
~
You startled awake hours later; bolting upright as you heaved in jolting, uneven inhales. Immediately, pain knocked you out of your panicked daze – sharp and piercing, imbedded into the back of your shoulder and either side of your chest, strong enough to remind you to measure out your breathing and calm down before you blindly threw yourself back into a seething pit of violent criminals. It took you a second to realize that you weren’t on an undersized infirmary cot, anymore, and another to piece together where he’d taken you – a bedroom nearly triple the size of your bunk. The warden’s chambers, you figured, as you scanned over the limited decoration and piles of dust-coated paperwork stacked onto every possible surface. Wriothesley’s room.
Wriothesley’s bed, at that. A cold chill ran down your spine as you realized that he’d taken the time to strip you out of your ill-fitting coveralls and redress you in a shirt sizes too big to be one of yours – the bleached, threadbare material a stark contrast to the satin sheets draped over your legs. You started to push them away and move towards the edge of the mattress, but froze as a door on the far side of the room creaked open – Wriothesley slipping inside and letting the door shut behind him. He moved away from it quickly, but as it closed, you could’ve sworn you heard the muffled, deafening click of a lock sliding into place and cutting you off from the rest of the world – or, the rest of the underworld, rather. As if there was anyone out there who would bother to save you, even if they could try.
“There’s my sleeping beauty.” He grinned as he lowered himself on the side of the bed, positioning himself closer to you than he absolutely had to. He reached out, moving to cup your face, but quickly let his hand fall back to his side when you flinched away. His smile dimmed, but didn’t fall away. “Get a chance to see the improvements, yet?”
After a second of hesitation, you shook your head, and he nodded to your chest - the gesture more of an order than a suggestion. Reluctantly, you pinched your collar between two fingers and peeled away from your skin. Through the narrow sliver, you could see his handiwork: a pair of twin rings hanging from either nipple, connected by a thin, lax, silver chain – so light, you could barely feel it brushing your diaphragm as the air caught in your chest.
You dropped the collar before you could give in to the nausea beginning to coil in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t bear to look at Wriothesley, so you kept your eyes on the sheets, kneading at the fabric half-consciously as you struggled to find your voice. “That wasn’t what we agreed to,” you muttered, mostly under your breath. “Can I go back to my bunk, now?”
His smile took on an almost apologetic note. You tried again. “Am I... Am I going to be able to leave?”
This time, when he reached out, flinching away wasn’t enough to stop him – his hand catching your chin and drawing you that much closer to him. You tried to lurch away, but it was too late, his lips were already crashing into yours, his tongue already slipping past your teeth and raking over your own. While your eyes widened in shock, his went half-lidded, closing just a second too late. Abruptly, it occurred to you that you’d never really noticed the color of his eyes – a pale, faded blue. The color of the half-formed flowers currently stretching across your back.
Wriothesley’s hand slipped to the nape of your neck. You let your eyes fall shut, and did your best not to think at all.
585 notes · View notes
flowersandbigteeth · 2 days
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Looking for a saucy medieval tradition to weave into your historical romances? Have no fear, foot-of-the-gallows marriage is here! Basically, if a man was about to be hanged and a woman stepped forward and said “I will marry this man!” he was spared because it was was seen as like “oh, she’ll rehabilitate him so we don’t have to kill him.” Now, I heard this from tiktok, so I could be wrong, and it could just be a folk tale or something that rarely happened in actuality. Either way, it’s a cool troupe I think more people should use (and I myself will be using). I think it would work really well with Orcs and Elves!
This is such an intriguing idea! I had to try it. If you end up writing it, tag me, if you are comfortable! I'd love to see what you do with it ^_^
I keep getting Orc ideas, and I can't resist them *feral invasive Orc thoughts* ( ̄ w ̄)Ψ
Orc (Saber) x GN elf reader
Word Count: 6K
TW: discussion of hanging, bad mother, sfw Orc fluff, a bit of melancholy with a happy ending, nonsexual mention of private body parts in the context of bathing
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“Goodness, what’s this all about?” you grumbled, clutching your basket closer to you as you made your way through the crowd. 
The stench of rotten vegetables and too many people lingered in the air. 
“It’s a hanging,” a helpful imp beamed, hopping on his tiptoes to see over the crowd. Why people gathered all around to watch someone die, you had no idea, but more importantly, the crowd was blocking your path home. Industrious vendors selling ale and popcorn wove through the throng to collect what coins they could from the event. In the capital, everyone had a hustle, and few left the chance to make some money at the table. 
“Out of the way!” You shouted, shouldering whoever was unlucky enough to be in your way. 
The voice of the city guardsman who was reading off a list of offenses to the crowd drowned yours out, but with a few well-placed shoves, you managed to make it to the front. You were looking around, trying to figure out how to get across the plaza, when you glanced up to see a familiar face. 
“It’s you!” you blurted as your eyes locked with the brilliant chartreuse irises of the Orc standing on the gallows. 
He gave you a wan smile, lifting his tied hands to wave at you. His straight nose was up in the air as if all the rabble around him should be fortunate to have the privilege of watching him die. The thick olive locs you remembered being long had been roughly chopped short around his ears. Still, even dressed in an ill-fitting prison jumpsuit, he had a regal air about him. His barrel chest was puffed, strong muscles peaking between the frayed fabric. 
“Fifty counts of robbery…25 counts of counterfeiting gold coins…seven counts of horse theft…”
The Orc you’d met before’s name was Saber. He’d helped you get your broken cart into town one rainy afternoon…, and then he’d also stolen your necklace, which you’d realized after he’d disappeared. 
“As per the King’s edict, If any citizen pledges to save this soul from the gallows by way of marriage, please step forth.” 
Though he was handsome, no one raised their hands to save him. Instead, they all booed. Judging by the rotten vegetables hurled at him, he seemed to have robbed almost everyone in the capital. 
“Aye!” you shouted, hiking up your pants to pull yourself onto the stage. 
The guardsmen’s eyebrows shot up when you’d straightened yourself.
“I’ll marry the sorry bastard.” 
“Are you sure? He’ll most likely rob you and run off. He’s better off dead.” 
“I have business with this one,” you informed him, snapping your fingers. “Come on then. Let’s get this over with.” 
The guardsman shrugged and jerked the noose off of his neck, a little disappointed. The crowd wasn’t happy either, hurling insults along with their vegetables. 
“Quiet! Quiet!” the guardsman shouted after shoving Saber forward for the “ceremony.”
He took a deep breath, jerking a notebook out of his pocket.
“Alright,” he began, snorting. “State your name for the record.” 
“(Y/N).”
“Lovely elven name,” he murmured as he jotted it down. “Now then, do you (Y/N) take this here, criminal, Saber Wintermaple to be your lawfully wedded husband?” 
You gave him a sharp nod. 
“I do.” 
He swung a lazy eye at Saber. 
“Do you Saber Wintermaple, take this kind elf to be your betrothed?” 
He gave you a bright smile. 
“I do.” 
The guardsman snapped the book closed, shoving Saber towards you. 
“I hereby declare you two duly betrothed under the King’s law. This Orc is your problem now, citizen. You’d better keep him out of trouble, or you’ll be up here next to him!”
He handed you the thick rope looped around the binding, keeping Saber’s hands tied, and waved you two off. The audience, bored without bloodshed, had already started dispersing, making it easy for you to tug Saber towards the road leading to the forest. 
“I didn’t know I made such a pleasant impression,” Saber said cheerfully, following you out of town.
You whirled around and jammed a finger in his face. 
“I wouldn’t describe it as pleasant. You owe me a gold necklace! Give it back, or you can work off the coin you owe me!” 
He chuckled.
“I’m fresh out of coins, little elf.” 
He scratched his chin and looked up, thinking. 
“I’m pretty sure I lost that necklace in a game of dice.” 
He shrugged. 
“You lost my only possession of any value in a game of dice?” 
You scrubbed your hand over your face, counting back from ten so you didn’t explode.  
“Maybe I should have let you die.”
Frowning, you looked over him from toe to head. 
“At least you look strong enough. I’m sure I can find something useful for you to do!” 
You stopped where the two of you stood in the middle of the trail and pulled a small charm from your basket. 
“I was going to use this on my coin purse since there was a thief on the loose, but it’s probably better applied to you!” 
You looped the charm around his neck, closing your eyes to whisper the spell. A gust of spirit wind, fluffed your hair as the magic twirled around Saber. When you opened your eyes again, there was a blue thread linking the two of you that only you could see. 
“What was that?” he asked, narrowing his eyes on you. 
“It’s a binding spell, so you can’t run off with my stuff again,” you explained.
His eyebrows jumped, and he tugged at the little talisman around his neck. 
“It won’t come off.” 
You nodded proudly. 
“Exactly.”
He took a moment to examine you carefully, tapping his chin again. 
“Interesting,” he murmured.  
“What? What does that mean?” 
He smiled and shrugged.
“Lead the way, spouse.” 
You sighed, turning and pulling him through the bumpy trail in the woods to your little home. When you’d fled your homeland to the Capital, you’d been lucky to find an abandoned cottage outside the city walls. It wasn’t massive, with only the basic living quarters, but it must have at some point belonged to someone’s Saber’s size, as the door and counters were much too high. You’d spent much of the money you earned selling charms and ointments, buying stools and ladders to reach things. 
“You poor thing,” Saber sighed as you passed through the magic barrier you’d cast to keep your home hidden from bandits.
“You don’t need to patronize me,” you huffed. “You’re the one almost hanged and run out of town.” 
He ignored you, looking around. 
“I feel kind of bad for stealing your necklace now that I’ve seen where you live. This place is a mess.” 
You examined your home, trying to see it through his eyes. Every available surface was covered in books, alchemy equipment, or ingredients. Even the chairs were covered in cast-off scrolls, books, or charms. 
“It’d be nice to have a workshop,” you admitted. “But that’s much too expensive.”
You straightened your slumping shoulders and lifted your chin. 
“No matter, you won’t be spending much time sitting down. I’ve got loads of things that need doing.” 
He gave you a sharp nod and held out his hands. 
“You’ll have to untie me if you want me to work.” 
Pulling a small blade from your basket, you sawed through the thick binding. Free to move as he pleased, he wrung his stiff wrists as he perused your living room. Occasionally he would pick something up, then put it down again, finally crouching to examine a bucket filled with water. 
“What are you doing?” 
He peered up at the leak in the roof that was letting rainwater drip through. 
“This needs fixing, or the roof will rot out.”
Pushing off of his knees, he turned to you. 
“How long have you been living alone?” 
You blushed, embarrassed. 
“I dunno, my whole life, I guess. The elven town where I came from didn’t have an orphanage or anything, so when I was old enough, I took off toward the capital. It took a while to get here…but here I am. I thought there would be more…I don’t know…opportunity here.” 
“How has that worked out for you? Living in a house clearly not meant for you and marrying a man on the gallows.” 
You gave him an indignant snuff. 
“At least I’m not a thief!” 
He chuckled, leaning against a bookshelf, rolling a gold coin on his knuckles. Your eyes narrowed on it, and you reached in your pocket to find you’d been relieved of your day’s earnings. 
“Hey! You stole that!” 
He laughed, revealing straight white teeth, and jingled the other coins in his pocket. 
“Don’t worry, I can’t get away with it, right?” 
You sucked in a deep annoyed breath. 
“I have things to do. Make yourself useful and chop some wood. It’s going to be cold when the sun sets.” 
“Whatever you say, spouse,” he replied, giving you a sarcastic salute as you dropped your basket and hurried to the kitchen to get started on dinner. 
What had you been thinking marrying a criminal? You paused for a moment, eyes growing misty. You didn’t really think he still had your necklace, did you? You let out a sigh just short of a sob. Were you really that lonely? Maybe it hurt that he’d been so kind to you, just to trick you. You should have been happy to see him hanged, yet the lingering magic that followed all elves had whispered that you ought to save him. 
But why? You weren’t in any position to support a husband. Though you’d instructed yourself on the knowledge of various potions and charms, you weren’t the only one. The city was teaming with Academy-bred alchemists who far surpassed your skill. They had access to rare ingredients and an army of assistants. You had to scrape out a living selling your wares far cheaper than the competition even to get noticed at the market. Hustling day to day, you certainly didn’t have the time or money to pretty yourself up to find a partner. 
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you grumbled, returning to chopping tubers for soup. 
A thick THWACK, drew your eyes out the kitchen window to Saber splitting logs across the lawn. He’d divested himself of his ratty shirt, and every thick muscle was on display as he lifted the ax over his head and dropped it down again. The logs felt apart like they were nothing more than twigs under his might. 
Your eye focused on the dark, wet slashes across his shoulder blades where his jailors had beaten him. He must have felt your eyes on him because he glanced up and waved. Blushing, you hurriedly pulled the curtains, returning to your task. 
Unable to get his injuries out of your mind, you felt bad for making him chop wood while he was hurt. When you’d plopped the tubers into your cooking pot, you gathered up some healing and numbing salves, making your way out the door. 
“Need something?” he asked, looking up from his task. 
“Sit down,” you barked. 
A thick eyebrow rose, and he tipped his head. 
“Why? Planning on lobbing my head off?” 
You wrinkled your nose at him. 
“No, of course not! You’re massive. How would I even go about burying your body? I can’t have a rotting corpse stinking up the place. Just sit!” 
He leaned his axe against the stump he was using to brace the wood and sat down on it. You dug in your basket, pulling out some cleanser to clean the wounds. Beside the big ugly gashes, Saber’s skin was a smooth, pretty green, the planes of his muscles sharp and defined. The first brush of your hand on his back made him jump. 
“S-sorry,” you muttered.
“‘Ts fine. Just not used to people touching me. Go on.” 
You spread the thick gel you used carefully over each angry line. 
“What do you mean? You’ve never had a partner before me?” 
He paused for a moment before he jerked his head. 
“I had a girlfriend once, but she left me.” 
“Why?” 
“Some noble offered her his hand and well…I couldn’t compete.”
He sighed. 
“She was happy to keep me on as her side piece, but I’ve got too much of an ego to be someone’s toy.” 
Your eyebrows jumped at his candor, but you just hummed, plastering clean wraps to his skin so the wounds could heal. His skin was warm under your fingers, making the tips tingle. When you were done, you found yourself tipping forward on your toes to peck the back of his neck. When you’d realized what you’d done, your ears burned, and you coughed loudly. 
“Sorry, ah…sorry,” you muttered, unsure what to say. “You’re…ah…going to have to sleep on your stomach, so you don’t make these worse.” 
He swiveled around to look at you, smiling. 
“Thanks, doc!”
“I’m not a doctor.” 
He shrugged. 
“What’s the difference?” 
“Ten years of special-”
You shook your head, realizing he was teasing you.
“I think that’s enough wood for tonight. Come inside. Dinner’s almost ready.” 
He grinned at you, his stomach grumbling, as he scooped up some of the wood he’d cut and tucked it under one arm. You wondered how much they let him eat in prison, worried he was starving. 
“What’d my sweet little spouse cook for me?” he asked. 
“Just some sweet potato soup. It’s not gourmet.” 
He frowned. 
“No meat?” 
You blinked at him. 
“You have all the money I made today in your pocket. How can I afford meat with those few coins?” 
He nodded, appearing to be thinking through the problem thoroughly. 
When you returned inside, you dipped the two of you bowls of soup, filling his twice as much as yours. You assured yourself it was because he couldn’t work without proper nutrition, not because you liked him. 
“So how far does this magic thingie let me go?” he asked as you sat down at the table. 
“Why, trying to run off?” 
He smirked. 
“No, why would I want to run away from you?” 
He chewed on a big spoonful of sweet potatoes before he continued. 
“I’ve got a cute little spouse who makes me dinner and kisses my cuts.” 
Your cheeks blew up in flames, and you choked on a mouthful of soup. You tried to retain your composure by quickly wiping your mouth with a napkin. 
“A couple of miles in any direction.” 
“Wow, didn’t think you’d give me such a long leash.” 
You shrugged. 
“I can’t be right at your side every minute.” 
He gave you the biggest puppy dog eyes you’d ever seen. 
“You don’t want me by your side every minute of the day?” 
Unsure if he was joking or not, you jerked your spoon at his soup. 
“Let’s…stop talking for a while. Eat up. You’ll need your strength.” 
While the two of you ate quietly, you did your best to keep your eyes on your bowl. Every time you happened to glance up, he was watching you with an odd smile on his face. Almost like satisfaction. 
You were relieved when you finally finished and could turn your back on him to rinse the dishes. 
“You can take the bed if you want,” you called over your shoulder as you stood on your tip toes to return the bowls to the cabinet. As your arm stretched, Saber appeared behind you, plucking the dishes out of your hand and easily placing them where they were supposed to go. 
“Where are you going to sleep?” he asked, extending a hand to help you off of the little ladder you were perched on. 
“There’s a couch in the living room.” 
He wrinkled his nose. 
“It’s covered in stuff.” 
You shrugged, trying to hurry past him. 
“I’ll clean it up.”
You found your feet swinging in the air as he picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder. 
“Wh-what are you doing?” 
“My spouse is not sleeping on the sofa. I never thought I’d have a spouse, so I’ve got to take proper care of you.” 
He patted your butt for emphasis. 
“Are you crazy?” you snapped, only not banging on his back with your fists because he was injured. “We can’t sleep together! We just met!” 
Your body bounced on his shoulder as he chuckled. 
“You weren’t concerned with that when you insisted on marrying me!” 
“They were going to kill you!” 
He flopped you down on your bed, caging you in with his big arms. His head dipped to drag the tip of his nose along the length of your neck. 
“So you do like me!” he whispered into your skin. 
“I do not,” you huffed, pushing his chest.
Though your muscles did nothing to move him, he rose so you could scoot out across the bed. You quickly scrambled into the bathroom to change into your pajamas. 
When you came back out, Saber was slipping off his pants. 
“What are you doing now?” You gasped, cheeks heating at the sight of the thick shaft hanging between his legs.  
He glanced up, a slight smirk on his face as he folded his clothes. 
“I can't sleep in these prison clothes. I'll get the sheets all dirty!” 
You sighed, rubbing your eyes. He was right. He was filthy from sleeping on dirty straw in prison. 
“Come on,” you said, flicking two fingers at him. “You need a bath. You’re probably covered in fleas! 
Fortunately, your house came equipped with one large enough to fit Saber’s big body. With a flick of your fingers, the tub was filled, and with a few whispers of a spell, the water was hot. 
“Get in,” you said. 
Making himself comfortable, he looked back at you over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised. 
“You tryin’ to watch? Naughty little elf!” 
You let out a long sigh. 
“No, I’m just going to ensure you don’t get your bandages wet, or it will all have been a waste. Supplies are expensive,” you huffed, picking up the sponge. “Now, sit still!”
Saber smirked but let you lift each of his arms as you scrubbed him. 
“So how did your old girlfriend take it when you decided you wouldn’t be your affair partner?”
He glanced at you, eyes ever thoughtful. His long look brought heat to your cheeks. 
“Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.” 
He shrugged, his jaw tightening. 
“She was rather smug. She spent her whole life wishing to elevate herself.” 
A long sigh slipped past his lips. 
“I could never make her happy. I lied, cheated, stole; whatever I could do…but she looked down her nose at all of it.”
Your mouth fell open. 
“I’m…I’m sorry. You don’t have to…”
He waved a thick hand, his warm palm gently landing on your head and lightly ruffling your hair. 
“Think nothing of it. It’s kind of nice to get it off my chest.” 
“So that’s why you're a crook? To make her happy?”
He smirked. 
“I was a crook. Now I’m a married man. I can’t get into trouble. I have a spouse who relies on me.” 
He pinched your chin. 
“Prison was difficult enough without knowing I was missing out on such a cute little face. Now, it would crush me.” 
Your cheeks burned even hotter, and you jerked your head away, grabbing the nearest towel and tossing it to him. 
“Careful, don’t jostle your bandages,” you wheezed before making your escape. “Whoever lived here before left some clothes in the chest by the door. They ought to fit.” 
You were so busy slowing your beating heart that you blew out the lantern and slid into your bed without thinking Saber would soon follow. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to feign sleep, when you heard his heavy footsteps approach. He paused for a moment, doing Goddess knows what, before he carefully laid down next to you. 
The mattress dipped under his weight, and your body slid into his. You heard him draw in a sharp breath as your warm forms pressed together. 
“Mind your wounds. Make sure you sleep on your side,” you whispered into the darkness. 
You felt him adjust slightly, and then a heavy arm draped over your waist. Despite yourself, it was warm and the weight felt nice. Comforting. Now that he’d used your soap, he smelled like home. His breath brushed the hairs on your neck and another arm slid underneath you to use as a pillow. You would have pulled away, but you’d never slept so close to someone before. 
Living on the street for most of your life, left you with scars. You didn’t realize how deep they’d cut you until Saber’s large body curled around yours. You felt safe. 
When you woke the next morning, the bed next to you was empty. Your heart thumped heavily in your chest, wondering where he’d gone. Had it all been a dream? 
The pile of dirty prison clothes folded and placed on top of a chest proved that it had not. 
Breathing slowly, in the meditation you’d taught yourself, you stretched your awareness out, reaching for the blue thread. Saber was half a mile from you. You wondered what he could possibly be doing. 
“Orc things, probably,” you muttered, making your way to the bathroom to clean yourself up. 
It wasn’t like he could run off; there was nothing in that direction but trees. Through the window, you could see the sun up over the tree line, telling you that you’d slept much later than usual. 
Usually, you’d have left at sunrise to sell your wares in the Capital market, but it was far too late now. Instead, you grabbed an apple from the kitchen and started fussing with your alchemy materials. Now that Saber was living with you, you were sure you needed to straighten up so he didn’t break something. 
Walking across the room, you automatically skipped around the bucket on the floor; only the bucket was gone. You frowned, but looking at the ceiling, someone had replaced one of the boards with a fresh one. Had Saber done that while you were sleeping? 
You huffed, returning to straightening your books. At least he’s putting himself to work. 
You were trying to remember the order in which a pair of books written in ancient elven were arranged alphabetically when the bell above your door jingled. 
Since your home was hidden with magic, the bell told you someone was nearby. It was a charm you rarely used. No one had any reason to look for you. The most it had rung was when you ordered a special cauldron or tomb and happened to have the cash to have it delivered. 
Curious if a traveler was lost, you put your books down and wandered outside. 
“Morning, spouse!” 
Saber’s voice made you jump when he appeared hauling a deer on his shoulders. 
“What’s that?” 
He shrugged the creature off of his shoulders. 
“Meat!” he announced proudly. 
You nodded at him, your eyes catching on his bare chest, glazed with a sheen of sweat. 
“Where are you off to?” he asked. 
“Someone is here,” you murmured, forcing your gaze from the sharp planes of his muscles to continue down the path. 
A shadow draped over you, and you glanced up to see him looming. 
“What are you doing?” 
“I’m going with you. It could be someone dangerous.” 
You shook your head but continued on your way with him in tow. 
“Helloooo? Helllloooo?” 
A female voice was screaming through the trees. When you rounded the bend, your eyes landed on an expensive carriage and a beautiful fairy shouting at the top of her lungs.  Her pink hair fell in glittering curls around her shoulders, and matching wings emerged from her back.
“Damn it! Saber! Where the fuck are you?” 
“Can I help you?” you asked as you stepped through your magic barrier. 
Her eyes narrowed, but not on you. She looked directly behind you. 
“Saber! There you are!” 
She grinned, fluttering her winds and flying past you. Irritation immediately pricked your heart as the woman threw her arms around him. Turning around, you found him looking at her with wide eyes. 
“Melody…what are you doing here? How did you find me?” 
“I’m here to see you, of course. I heard you were going to be hung, but an elf saved you! I asked around the market and was told you’d been taken here. I was so worried!” 
When she cupped his chin with her delicate hand, you crossed your arms, eyes narrowing. 
“Not someone. Me.” you interjected. 
You marched towards Saber and grabbed him by the arm. 
“Saber is my husband. Who are you?” 
She wrinkled her nose at you, ignoring your question. Her hand slid down Saber’s chest despite you. 
“Is there someplace we can talk? Privately?” 
Saber’s shocked face tightened. 
“I don’t think that’s an appropriate ask in front of my spouse, Melody.” 
She scoffed. 
“You’ve been married…what? 8 hours? Saber, I think I more than deserve a little of your time. Especially as the mother of your child.” 
Your jaw dropped, and your hand pulled away from Saber. It was true, you’d only known him for a few hours, but a child was something he ought to have mentioned. 
His brow drew, looking between you and her. 
“What child?” 
She huffed, frowning at you. 
“Fine…If you must do this, this way.” 
She turned to the carriage and yelled. 
“Nora, bring the baby!” 
A maid climbed out of the carriage holding a small whimpering bundle. You gasped as the woman presented Saber with a little green newborn. 
Saber’s eyes popped, his mouth opening and closing as the maid pressed the child into his hands. 
“This…he…is mine?” 
Melody nodded. 
“Yes, and it’s time for you to take responsibility.” 
He glanced up at her. 
“You want to get back together?” 
She let out a cruel but trilling laugh. 
“Oh heavens no. I need you to take him. Dante hasn’t seen him yet. He thinks I’ve delivered his child. I had the maids tell him I was recovering for the past month so I could sneak him out. If he finds out I’ve been carrying your baby this whole time, he’ll throw me out on the street!” 
Anger roiled under your skin. 
“So what baby are you going to present to him?” you demanded. 
She snorted as if that were a foolish question. 
“I’ll get a baby from the slums. Plenty of mothers would happily give their child the life of a Lord’s son without question.”
She fluttered her iridescent wings. 
“It only need be a fairy child.” 
You could see the pain and confusion settle on Saber’s face. Stepping between the two of them, you gently pried the bundle out of Saber’s hands, looking at his cute little button nose and glossy baby curls. 
“Of course, we will take him, but on one condition.” 
She glanced at you. 
“What do you want? Money?”
You let out a tight chuff. 
“No. We never want to see you again. If he is our baby, he is ours. Don’t think you can change your mind and come running back here looking for him or Saber. The second you step foot in your carriage, this child and my husband are dead to you.” 
Her eyes jerked to Saber. 
“Saber. You can’t mean that. Of course, I want to see you…Dante, however, can’t know. You understand, don't you? This is everything we've dreamed about! You ought to support me!"
You scoffed, rolling your eyes.
"I grew up in the gutter, too," you hissed. "But I'd never treat someone the way you have treated my husband. He is too good for you and I won't tolerate you buzzing around us like a nasty fly."
She glared at you.
"He's my child! You're just jealous Saber and I have history!"
Saber's jaw locked, and he put his arm around you, giving her a disgusted grimace. 
“Have you named him?” he asked. 
She looked contrite but lifted her chin. 
“I…ah…it didn’t occur to me...” 
He nodded and glanced down at you, holding his child. 
“Then…I agree with (Y/N). You’ll never know his name. You’ll never see him grow. You’ll never return to ruin our peace.” 
“But Saber-” 
“Don’t say my husband’s name, either.” you snapped. “You thought you’d come here and drop all of your responsibilities in his lap and then keep stringing him along as a toy? It’s not going to work like that. You have your family, and we have ours.” 
You jerked your chin at her. 
“Make your choice. Either leave the child or be prepared to explain to your husband who he belongs to. Those are the only options.”
Her pretty face contorted into an ugly, wrinkled mask, and she lifted her skirt to turn on her heels. 
“Fine! It’s not like I want the child of a thief anyway!”  
Snapping at her maid, she hovered back to her carriage, and they disappeared down the road in a cloud of dust. You smiled down at the little baby, who’d managed to sleep through the drama. 
“Saber, I know I shouldn’t have spoken for you…I just- He deserves better than to grow up with the knowledge his mother believes him to be less than. Can you imagine him living as her secret? Sneaking around to hide him? If she passed him in the street, she’d ignore him to preserve her status. He’d be heartbroken. I won’t let that happen. I hope I didn’t overstep, but I’m not sorry for it.” 
He dropped to his knees, eyes wet, and pushed his head into your shoulder. His big arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing you tight.
“You said just the right thing,” he murmured, then turned his head to look at his son. “What should we name him?” 
You smiled at him. 
“Let’s talk it over over lunch.” 
The two of you walked back down the path together, both having a hard time keeping your gaze off the baby. He wriggled in his sleep, making you both see hearts.
“Maybe we should move,” you murmured. “Just to be sure…and to give him a fresh start.” 
He looked down at you. 
“You won’t miss this place?” 
You sighed. 
“No…this is just a house. We have a family now. He should grow up in a happy little town, not the capital…we’ll have to save for a few months, but I think we can do it.” 
“We don’t have to save. I have plenty of money.” 
You froze in your tracks, looking up at him.
“What? I thought you said you were broke?” 
He smiled down at you. 
“I meant I didn't have any coin on me. I didn’t just piss all of my ill-gotten gains away. I hid them. Follow me.” 
He tugged the two of you into the forest, walking quite a ways until you reached an oddly placed rock. Saber crouched down and uprooted a bush with a stiff jerk. Then he cleared the soil away, revealing a wooden chest. He turned the little dial a few ways until it clicked, and the chest opened with a creak. Your eyes widened at the hundreds of gold coins piled inside. He casually tugged the gold he’d lifted from you out of his pocket and tossed it inside with a metallic clink. 
“I think we can buy a nice place with this.” 
You were still completely confused. He rummaged around in the coins, producing the gold necklace he’d stolen. Standing, he fastened it around your neck with the nimble fingers of a thief.
“I thought you lost it gambling?” 
He shrugged. 
“I lied.” 
“Why did you keep it?” 
He gave you a long look.
“I’m not sure, to be honest. Something told me not to sell it.” 
“But…what about the rest? I thought you gave it all to Melody?” 
“I tried to…we grew up in the capital, in the same slums she wants to buy a baby from. It wasn’t ever about what I could provide her. She wanted to erase her past. She wanted a title…to be a lady, to be able to lift her nose at the very people she grew up with.
I started saving after she failed at her first attempt at seducing some highborn. At the time, I had this romantic dream that I could surprise her with a big house, start a business, and be the Lord she wanted so badly…but… as time passed, I realized I was already tainted in her eyes. She wanted the right blood attached to her money. It took me too long to be ready to pull away. Dante was the nail in the coffin, so to speak.” 
He tugged the chest from the ground, hauling it onto his shoulder before leading you back through the forest.  
“Even though I knew I wasn’t enough…I foolishly still loved her. I was a mess when he proposed. That’s why I got caught. I went on a bender that lasted most of a year…Fortunately, I never touched this. Maybe I held out hope since Melody still entertained my attention…but I got sloppy and ended up in jail.” 
His gaze dropped to the baby. 
“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn't have ever known about him. Anything could have happened to him if you hadn’t-”
He choked a bit, a couple of tears slipping down his cheek. You didn’t push him to finish his sentence. You knew what he was trying to say. 
“What about Arel?” you asked. 
“Arel? That sounds like an Elvin name.” 
You smiled at the little baby’s chubby cheeks. 
“It is…it means ‘treasure’.” 
He stopped, bending down to examine his son more closely. The baby’s eyes opened, and you saw that they were the same pretty chartreuse as his father’s. The two of them looked at one another in awe. 
“I like Arel,” he said, brushing a thick finger over his cheek. 
Arel’s big eyes grew wet, and he started to croon. 
Shock and worry bloomed on Saber’s face. 
“Is he okay?” 
“I think he’s hungry. I have some goat milk at home.” 
Saber straightened, and you had to almost jog to keep up with him, the two of you hurrying home to start your life as a family.
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whispereons · 3 days
Text
Oracle!Reader Part 24
Masterlist - Part 1, Part 23
Warning! My AU is yandere and can involve gore. Sensitive topics appear in this series. This chapter is a bit bloody but not that bad.
In all honesty, you never expected to be the one to say ‘no’ to a proposal. Love wasn't something you frequently chased, and being a heartbreaker was even farther from your mind.
Maybe that's why you laughed so merrily at Zhongli’s face when you rejected him.
Then again, he wasn't proposing his heart, nor his love. Morax, Rex Lapis, or rather  Zhongli was offering an alliance of mutual benefit.
“What's your reasoning for rejecting my proposal? I may not marry you as the Geo Archon, but I'm not undesirable as I am now.”
He takes a moment to think as his fingers taps on his chin. The way the diamond of his iris shrinks and the slight grimace on his face raises a red flag in your mind. 
“You aren’t rejecting me solely due to the fact that I’m not operating as this country’s Archon are you?”
.
.
.
The smile on your face becomes tight as your hand shakes with the unmeasurable amount of effort to not flip him off right there. Just what did you do that could have caused such a stupid reasoning to come from his usually smart mouth?
“What the fuck made you think that I even gave a shit about you being an Archon?” Well maybe you couldn’t hold your tongue, but granted you didn’t really need to either.
The man bristles, but ultimately doesn’t answer your question, choosing to instead repeat the first question. “Why are you rejecting my proposal, then?”
“Because you don’t love me.”
“I could learn to love you.”
“But that goes against the terms and conditions of what a marriage is supposed to consist of.”
This brings Zhongli to a halt as he stews on your answer. With a smaller voice, he continues, “The legalities of our marriage would be decided on what vows we utter during the ceremony.”
“Not according to the Creator.” It’s like saying ‘no you’ in an argument, especially with how Zhongli’s face contorts into clear annoyance. 
“With what proof do you claim that as the truth? Nothing in any scriptures on Teyvat says that.” He seems to realize what answer you’ll give him even before you open your mouth by sighing.
“Because I’m the Oracle.” The self-satisfied smirk on your face is clear as you step closer to poke his chest. “Unless you’re suddenly going to claim that I’m wrong? Should we cut off another limb? Maybe your pitiful rat-tail as an ornament to decorate it.”
He pushes you away by your head, the material of your mask is cool under his fingers as you let him push you back with a laugh. He tsks at your antics and smoothly replies.
“Have you finished laughing? There’s no need to pick at my appearance when I wouldn’t do the same to you, whenever you would have shown me your face once we wed.”
Light laughter calms down into a brief hum as you take in his words. It’s all just a well-timed cover-up for the internal panic that you had at realizing that marrying him would mean being forced to reveal yourself one way or another.
“Fair point. Do you really want a serious answer from me anyway?” The swift conversation turn doesn’t go unnoticed by Zhongli, but he concedes by answering.
“Yes. Your reasoning may bring me more information on the Creator’s personal beliefs, or even aspects of humanity that I failed to learn firsthand yet.”
“Like rejection?” The smart-ass reply is met with an unimpressed stare as he comments. “Humorous, but not incorrect.”
“I wasn’t completely joking when I said that it’s mostly due to the Creator. Marriage in Liyue at least is mostly decided by the parents.” Your chapped lips become a bit more manageable to speak with as you lick them. “I don’t remember mine, and the closest thing you have to a parent is the Creator themselves, or maybe Teyvat?” Which was a weird thought, but you couldn’t really be sure how to view it.
“Therefore your marriage, or at the very least, my marriage, considering that I was personally sent on a mission by them, should be under the Creator’s control and only theirs. My opinion on it shouldn’t matter.” This was how you remembered China’s history worked, so Liyue hypothetically should have a similar system.
Zhongli’s frown deepens at your answer as you shrug your shoulders. As if you didn’t just make this whole answer up so that you can avoid marrying the ticking time bomb that wouldn’t hesitate to murder you in a split second.
Sure, there was increasing evidence that your acolytes gained this weirdly strong attachment to you, but you weren’t betting your entire life on it. The moment the mask was gone, your life was going to follow it.
“Then it seems I can do nothing but accept your teaching. Thank you for enlightening me on a topic that I was unaware about. Can I chalk this up to something you learned about from the scriptures written in Cloud Ret-”
He cuts himself off as he looks down at the bustling streets below the balcony. “Xianyun’s old abode? The one’s written in indecipherable language?”
Damn, you really forgot about Cloud Retainer’s humansona. Just thinking about accidentally running into her during your visit to Madam Ping makes you irritated in advance.
“No, there are other scriptures that the Creator led me to when I was exploring.” You didn’t want Zhongli trying to trace it back to Cloud Retainers introvert cave. In fact, it was more entertaining to visualize Zhongli searching every nook and cranny of Liyue’s vast lands for said ‘scriptures’.
The sun hits your eyes directly from its position as you try to guess the time. It had to be at least 3:30 at this point, right? Just how much time did you have to see Madam Ping before the dinner with Ningguang?
Who were you even kidding, you didn’t know how to tell the time by the sun. You’ll have to ask someone once you finish rejecting Zhongli.
Noticing your far off gaze and attention no longer on him, Zhongli let the petty, unexplainable indignation at the action simmer as he forcefully turned your body to face the door.
“I believe I’ve taken up more than enough of your time. You’d best be on your way to whatever task may be next on your schedule today.”
Now you feel pretty bad about spacing out like that. “Sorry Zhongli, I was just trying to figure out the time-” Your words seemed to go ignored as he pushed you out the doorway.
“Don’t bother worrying.” Is his brief response. The touch and pressure of his hands is firm and reliable in a way you can’t fully describe, before they’re removed swiftly as if he was burned. “Instead, you can focus on relaying your gratitude the next time we meet.”
Before you can question the strange sentence, the door is already slammed shut in your face. The whiplash of his actions settles as you stare at the wood in bewilderment. Instinctive, your feet lead you back down the stairs as you toss Zhongli’s sudden attitude and words in your mind.
Surely you weren’t that rude? You’ve done and said much worse things to him after all. Replaying your conversation yielded no new revelations, so with a sense of unease, you decide to take his push for your departure as his weird version of sulking.
What he expected you to thank him for wasn’t something you were going to worry about now. The sun shines on you, making the mask a bit warmer against your skin as you exit the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. 
If he didn’t bother explaining what you should be thanking him for, then it must be something either very big or very noticeable. Walking past where the balcony was, you look up and can only spot the empty chairs and simple table.
Time will tell, you suppose.
-----------------------
You aren’t completely sure how you expected your meeting with Madam Ping to go, but being stuck inside the temple with your neck being examined carefully by the older woman wasn’t a possibility you had in mind.
“Um, Madam Ping, I’m quite sure Xianyun’s claw marks aren’t there anymore. They’ve long healed at this point.”
“Child, you shouldn’t brush off injuries left by the Adepti so easily. Many can leave varying, strange and frankly annoying effects that can permanently alter your body if not taken care of.”
Sighing, you use your right arm to sip the tea Ping generously made for you, as your left arm was also being examined for any amber fragments from Mountain Shaper.
“You really don’t have to worry. Dr. Baizhu was the one who healed me up, so there’s nothing off about my body.” Ping relents and lets you fix your clothing as she steps away.
It was honestly surprising when she first spotted you and immediately apologized for her Adepti companion's actions. Yaoyao and Shuyu, Xianyun’s youngest disciple, were quick to be corralled away as Madam Ping brought you to one of the smaller rooms for examination.
“It must be an illuminated bird quality to be somewhat violent toward me. Maybe when I meet Xiao, I’ll get an injury from him too.” The joke slips out easily, but when Ping sighs and shakes her head in disapproval, you’re quick to shut your mouth.
“That would be even worse, as the karmic debt can be accidentally seeped into your wound that way.” Each sentence Ping says is clear worry, so you can’t be too annoyed at the slight nagging.
“Even still, I hope you have it in your heart to pray that the Creator forgive my headstrong and stubborn companions.” And here’s the catch. “I’m afraid it hasn’t been long since any of them have been trying this hard to understand humans on a personal level, so they tend to revert into their more proud egos when faced with the unexpected.”
There it was, all the excuses. You were really hoping Ping wouldn’t be the kind enabler that asks the victim to forgive the assaulter under the guise of some excuse. You’ve dealt with more than enough back on earth when bullies actually had abuse and other fucked up shit going on at home. 
Likewise, you weren’t about to put up with it from some ‘illuminated beings’ that had more than enough years to learn how not to be judgmental sad sacks of shi-
“I’ll still properly scold them for you, but it’s the Creator’s opinion that I’m truly concerned about.” Would you get in trouble for punching her? Probably. Yanfei is close with her and the best lawyer in existence.
It wasn’t worth it, you told yourself. It wasn’t worth it to argue with Ping about whether it was okay for the Adepti to hurt you or anyone else, solely depending on how connected they were to the Creator. It absolutely wasn’t worth it to point out how the Adepti’s lack of control over their emotions and harsh judgements couldn’t just be scolded away. And that they definitely weren’t allowed to get away with unneeded violence simply because they’re stubborn.
The building tension as Ping continued to ramble and your death grip on your pants was broken by Yanfei walking in while looking off to the side.
“Granny, I heard you came - Oh. Hello there!”  Yanfei’s casual greeting had you melting back into the oracle position as you smile calmly at Yanfei. 
“Hey, nice to meet you. I was just talking with-” You’re cut off by Ping moving to stand in front of Yanfei and begin to explain and introduce you. Including the fact that the other Adepti attacked you and that you were the oracle.
Well, it’s better than you retelling the story. It’s better to let others lie for you, especially considering the close relations. It’s not like Ping’s way of speaking was fast or overwhelming, it just felt like you would be wrong for whatever reason if you tried interfering.
Doesn’t stop the surge of annoyance, though.
Deciding to just leave as soon as possible and not get into a fist fight with a hidden Adeptus, you move off the bed and walk closer to the duo. Without much trouble, you’re able to slip past them until a hand tugs your wrist quickly before releasing it.
“Sorry, but I just wanted to introduce myself to you before you leave. My name is Yanfei. I'm the top legal advisor in Liyue.” A business card is handed to you as she speaks.
Accepting it, you examine the card to not be rude before stuffing it into your bag. While you’ll probably forget about it, it’s not bad to have it in case you visit Fontaine. Or if things with Ninggnuang get into legal territory.
What actually got your attention was how Yanfei went through the trouble of cutting off Ping to speak personally to you. Could this be the first Adepti related character to treat you with respect as a normal person?
The fact that you’re amazed by basic human decency is pretty fucking sad. The difference in treatment between her and Ganyu despite both of them being half-adeptus is staggering.
“Thank you. Just as Madam Ping explained, my name is Y/N, and I’m an Oracle for the Creator.” At least the old woman didn’t butt in yet. “Yaoyao visited me yesterday to meet her. I just didn’t expect to meet you here as well.”
“You suit your position rather well.” Her head tilts slightly to the side, making the Mora decorations jingle. “Although I haven’t met you before, just by your appearance alone I can guess that you’re either-” A finger is raised. “A - you’re not from here. Or B - you don’t have a traditional job.” The second finger joins the first as she takes in your appearance in completion.
“I would put inhuman beings or vision holders on the list, but your aura is completely that of a human, but also not one of a vision holder. In a way, you remind me of the traveler.”
“It does make sense.” You reply with a noncommittal shrug. “The traveler was the first Acolyte, and I’m the first Oracle, so there’s bound to be some uncanny similarities between us.” 
Madam Ping wistfully sighs at the mention of the traveler. “Ah yes, the Hero of Liyue. I was able to gift them that teapot, but what a shame that I don’t have another one to spare for you, esteemed Oracle.”
And here comes the half-praise, half-demeaning words that’s meant to belittle you into feeling worthless while giving meager praise to make her sound generous. 
“There would be no need to, since I intend on enjoying our God’s creations rather than hiding away from it in an Adeptal piece of machinery.” A wide grin adorns your face with canines clear to see, but your voice is as excited as a child’s with innocence clear.
Those that hear you would assume nothing but ignorance at fault, but the ones that can see how your eyes dimly gleam with mockery would think otherwise.
Isn’t it so good that Yanfei is by your side while Ping is in front of you?
The words clearly hit a nerve, as Ping’s smile drops into a horribly wrinkled frown. Yanfei’s teal eyes look between you two with a smile that dissolves into a confused furrow of her brows.
“My apologies, child, I was unaware that you were so deprived of empathy for others that you can reduce the hard work of the Creator’s chosen protectors of this land into a symbol of defilement.” The last few words are scathing as her face contorts into a gruesome mess of sagging skin.
“Granny, I understand why you’re mad but-” Yanfei takes a step forward, but is cut off by Ping raising her hand while stepping closer to you.
“I can now understand why Shenhe, that poor pitiful child, was so conflicted about her emotions toward you. I may not understand why the Creator chose a human of your breed to have that holy position, but I can only pray that this journey teaches you a lesson concerning those that you have wronged in this way.”
“Granny!” Yanfei yells in shock as she moves between you two, “How could you say something like that to them? You’re not only insulting them, you’re also insulting the Creator!” 
She turns around to face you as she shots a grimace behind her at the fuming hag. “I am so sorry about this, you should probably go now.” 
Nodding with a sad expression, you speak in a confused tone. “I-I understand. It was nice meeting you and Madam Ping. I hope we can talk again sometime.” Twisting open the doorknob and pushing it open, you sneak one last peek into the room.
Yanfei has her back to you as she yells on a whisper level. Ping doesn’t look all that pleased until her eyes stray to yours. The smugness practically rolls off you in waves as she scorns at you with disgust. 
-------------------------
It was official.
You were lost.
Looking at the doors and people walking around you, you tried to remember what path you took with Ping. But each door looked the same, with different people rushing in and out.
None of them even had time to talk to you as they wheeled out screaming and bleeding people from room to room. You got glimpses of dressings pressed haphazardly on wounds as you continued walking.
Surely you still had enough time until Ningguang’s dinner?
Trying not to freak out over the time, you continue marching throughout the seemingly endless hallways and avoid bumping into the doctors, nurses and more that rush around you. Eventually you arrive at an area of the building that looks a bit calmer.
You spot a woman wearing a dress looking similar to a work uniform and decide to ask her for directions leading out of the temple. You’re about to call out to her when she opens a door and enters it while cheerfully calling out.
“Thank you so much for all the help despite your busy schedule!” She continues to walk in, giving a half-hearted push to close it. 
Sneakily, you plant your foot right at the hinge of it, making it stop before it actually closes. A sense of déjà vu nags you as you stand outside the room with your head resting against the wall. You close your eyes to listen to the conversation.
“It’s no trouble at all, Daiyu. I always enjoy volunteering to help those who offer sacrifices to the Creator here.” There’s a light tilt to the voice while remaining sturdy, a good indicator that the speaker is who you think it is.
“Even so, as the Yuheng of Liyue, you still have many duties. Much more than you did when you first began to help out all those years ago…” The anxious woman is met with a brief chuckle.
“As I’ve said before, Daiyu, you can call me Keqing during these times. I’m not here as the Yuheng, but as a servant of our God to learn more.” The faint click of heels can be heard as drawers of what you assume are bandages are opened.
“Well, have you finally come to a conclusion? You know about whether self-mutilation is an ‘overdone’ and an ‘inferior’ way of worshiping the Creator?” The question is met with brief silence before Keqing responds.
“I’ve already made up my mind around the same time as Rex Lapis’s death. Self-mutilation isn’t exactly wrong per se, but it should not be our main way of worship. Our bodies were painstakingly crafted by the Creator’s hands and should not be abused. It’s why I’ve strived to keep myself in perfect shape.”
A sigh can be heard with an almost bitter note.
“But humans can not regrow lost limbs. Thus, I do not believe self-mutilation is the best way for humanity to worship the gods. Blood offerings and even human offerings of other criminals can be done, but I believe that self-mutilation should be left for extreme sins and for the Adepti to present.”
With eyes trained to the blood-stained floorboards beneath your feet, you push yourself off the wall. It seemed you weren’t going to gain any useful information from here. 
“The public won’t accept that kind of view that goes against what we’ve been taught for thousands of years. Then again, that never stopped you before - Aw, damn it! There’s barely any medical supplies here, too.”
The tapping of your feet walking away is concealed by the clicking of heels.
“There’s nothing left? Ugh, probably Ningguang again. She’s always doing this stuff.”
But perhaps you should have stayed just a bit longer. 
“The Tianquan?! Oh, please don’t let her know what I said! I quite like my job!”
“Relax, Daiyu, she wouldn’t care about your complaints even if she did hear them.”
“Then why are you frowning like that?”
You never know what you might hear.
“It’s just a bit strange to me. Not long ago she was doing all sorts of planning with an annoyed expression, but this morning she was pleased. She must have either taken care of whatever was bothering her or hatched the perfect, foolproof plan for it.”
----------------------------
Thankfully, you did manage to find your way back to the first floor. (When did you even walk up the stairs?) Most of the people there were rather calm, with incense and prayer rooms decorating this floor. 
The smell was of cinnamon and something with a strong woody scent. The one’s in the prayer rooms had healed scars exposed, either doing a full floor bow or at least on their knees.
If they had them, at least.
It was a gruesome sight if you were to be honest. Some had skin raw red from what looked like boil scars, others with self-inflicted writing carved into their skin. Words like; ‘Holy One’, ‘Savior’, and the most popular one of all: ‘Beloved Creator’ were in some way permanently branding their skin.
The wind blew from a certain hallway, as if Teyvat was trying to finally lend you a hand in leaving this temple of smoke and blood. Taking long strides past the rooms that muttered and screamed at varying levels and intervals, you see a set of wide doors.
WHAM
The whir of a sliding door before it slams into the doorway is all you hear before a hand is wrapped firmly around your wrist and pulling you into the dark room. Your breath is knocked out of you as the soles of your shoes search for purchase.
Your hands reach up to where you were grabbed to dig into the scalp of your assailant before you both fall to the ground from the struggle. 
“Let go of me!” You grit out as the slender fingers continue trying to pin you down. A feminine grunt of pain is heard as you finally manage to push her away, making your assaulter hit the wall.
Like hell! You weren’t just going to leave after being attacked for no fucking reason. Rushing forward, you pin the person against the wall as your eyes adjust to the dark room. Silvery hair can be seen in a tangle between your fingertips as you hold her wrists against the wall.
“Shenhe, what the fuck were you thinking? Are you still pissed at me? I thought we cleared it all up.” With a mix of anger, disbelief and pure confusion, you stare at her face as her features slowly become more defined.
“I just wanted to see you again…” The kicked puppy look is not suiting the bloody bandages wrapped around her left eye. Or what used to be her eye. “I didn’t hurt you this time.”
“Dragging an unsuspecting person into a dark room isn't not hostile either, Shenhe.” She simply stares at you in silence, as if she’s incompetent enough to not understand your words. “We almost fought to our deaths last time we met. How am I not supposed to assume that you’re trying to hurt me?”
Shenhe’s head drops a little bit as her mouth opens and closes repeatedly with no success. After giving her a moment, you sigh with a hint of annoyance and let go of her. “I have to get going, Shenhe. I'm not going to sit and wait forever.”
“I’m sorry.” You glance back down at Shenhe as she sits on her knees with her hands clenched tightly on her thighs. “I’m sorry for hunting you down so insistently while framing you as someone who wronged me on a personal level.”
Could you really accept this apology when you did stab her first for killing those Hilichurls you were friends with? Then again, they did give you liquor while Shenhe convinced herself that you were an evil entity. “Thanks for the apology, but that still doesn’t change much. I spent days in Bubu Pharmacy trying not to die from all the shit you and Yelan put me through.”
“I already heard about it and saw the vivid details of your healing progress while I waited outside your window that day.” Those words alone had you whipping your head around to her as your jaw dropped.
“Shenhe, what the hell!?” She staggers back to her feet with a worrying sway before taking mute steps towards your shocked form.
“A good partner is one who is attentive and keeps detailed track of their lover's affairs and health, correct?” Trying to wrap your head around the twisted logic she presents you with, you bury your face in your hands.
“Yes, but not in the context of our relationship.” You stress as your arm automatically reaches out to stop her from swaying to the ground. With your hand firmly on her arm, you continue to speak. “I know that you don’t really use that word often considering Xianyun’s teachings, but it’s pretty fucking important.”
A sole iridescent blinks lazily at you before her whole body weight is pressing down on you. It’s less of a hug and more like a ‘glomp’. Deciding to hold her by her waist to prevent being crushed by the pure muscle mass that made up her body, her forehead rests on your shoulder.
It’s burning. Definitely unusual for a Cryo vision holder.
“Shenhe? Shenhe can you hear me?” You ask as her glazed over eye stares into yours with no recognition seen in them. Swinging your head around, you finally spot a blood stained coat off to the side.
“C’mon, Shenhe, just work with me a bit to get you back to bed.” You spit out as you carry more of her weight to avoid dragging her on the floor. Thankfully, she helps out by wrapping her legs around your body and despite the slight constriction, you still manage to carry her back to bed.
Dropping her on the bed, you carefully fix her up. Brushing her hair out of her face, pulling the covers back over body, and adjusting the surrounding bandages around her injured eye to fit snugly. 
She did apologize after all, it would be cruel of you to leave a person with a fever and probably an infection a mess on a bed. 
That didn’t mean you were going to stay and nurse her back to health. Ningguang was probably at the restaurant at this point, and you weren’t going to be late for it.
Turning around, you take a quiet step toward the exit until a hand wraps frantically around your wrist.
“You forgive me, right?” Heavy breathing fills the room as her sweaty skin clings to the little contact she has with you. “I apologized sincerely, I’ll do it again if I must.” A trembling eye stares into your soul as her voice breaks. “Please…”
You stare down at the disciple with an unreadable expression until a smile breaks out onto your face. Shenhe’s grip loosens as hope begins to light up. Your other hand gently removes her fingers from your wrist before you whisper.
“Why don’t you sleep on it, Shenhe?”
Her eyes slide shut from pure exhaustion as you walk away and exit the room. After taking note of the room number, you resume your short walk to the exit. A nurse is nearby and just as you pull one of the wide doors open, you lean in to whisper a brief message.
The door closes shut behind you as the nurse rushes away. With careful footsteps, you walk leisurely toward the Xinyue Kiosk. The burning stares of civilians and soldiers alike are rolled off you in waves.
It was pointless to fight with the puppets when the puppet master invited you to meet her.
A feel like this part took forever. It's just the beginning of my spring break before I have another quiz and exam. So my break is just more studying, wonderful. My editor didn't need to do much considering the small size but I also feel like this wasn't the best of my work. I did write piece by piece every few nights when I got back home dead tired. I really can't wait for this semester to end…. But I'm also really excited to get started on the dinner with Ningguang! Taglist is always open!
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cupid-styles · 3 days
Text
daisy 3 - the epilogue (english profrry x quiet TA!yn)
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the final part!! sorry it took forever for me to finish this series. I really hope you guys enjoyed it and like this little part that wraps everything up :)
part one | part two
word count: 2.9k
content warnings: inappropriate relationship, minor age gap (4 years), not ramadan friendly
main masterlist | talk to me
. . .
Y/N and Harry shift into a relationship — or what feels like one — faster than either could have ever anticipated. 
In hindsight, Y/N supposes it makes sense. They’d been suppressing romantic and intimate feelings for each other and now that it’d all come to a peak (no pun intended), tangled between Y/N’s cotton sheets, it felt oddly… natural.
The entire thing made her warm with happiness, a busy kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering through her tummy every time she even thought of waking up next to Harry. They hadn’t had another sleepover since that evening, and admittedly, she’d been a bit scared that she would wake up to rushed apologies and explanations of “I need to get out of here, this was a mistake”, but it had been quite the opposite. 
The following morning, when her sleepy eyes cracked open, she felt a warm weight pressed up against her back. It took her a moment to come to, but when she did, she remembered the strenuous activities from the night prior, and blushed and rolled over to find the object of her affection waking up from his own deep sleep. 
“Morning,” he’d croaked before smiling through puffy eyes. “Can I make you breakfast?”
That had been two weeks ago, and it seemed like the cotton candy cloud they were floating on had yet to touch the ground.
It went without saying that they were still extremely careful on campus — however, now that the temperatures were shifting into a more comfortable number, jackets were being shed and bright tulip bulbs and crocuses were beginning to pop up from the moist soil. They were telltale signs that spring was steadily bolting their way, which meant that the end of the semester was, too. Between the hopeful weather and the pastel-hued beginnings of a relationship between the two, it was enough to pull Y/N from the inklings of her seasonal depression and Harry from his own existential dread. 
In short: It was good. Things were finally good, even if they hadn’t talked things through or officially decided on what they were doing yet. Y/N thinks she was okay with that, as long as it meant she was on the receiving end of Harry’s gentle kisses or his sweet goodnight texts. 
Yeah. She could most definitely live with that.
. . .
“I found a kitten last night.”
The words make Y/N blink her eyes open. Their lips hadn’t even been fully disconnected by the time his words were ghosting over the seam of her mouth, an apparent eagerness to verbalize this new development from the past 24 hours. 
“Oh?” Y/N asks with a quirked brow, fingertips focused on the feeling of his soft knit cardigan. 
“When I was taking the garbage out,” he quickly explains. “She was hiding behind the trash cans.”
“She?”
Harry shifts from foot to foot and Y/N immediately identifies his body language as nervousness — he’s nervous to tell her about this cat he found near his building complex, and the thought, for some reason, makes her body bubble with giggles. 
“I looked to see if she had a collar or tag or anything and she doesn’t. I took her in and washed her off. She was starving, but I was thinking of taking her to the vet when I leave campus today.”
Y/N hums, “Well if she was starving and dirty, it’s a good thing she found you.”
A pinkish flush flowers over Harry’s cheeks and he shrugs his shoulders. “The vet in town is always swamped with college kids impulsively adopting animals. I was thinking of taking her to the one a bit further away.”
“Oh, that’s smart,” Y/N nods, tugging the strap of her tote bag a little closer to her body. Harry normally isn’t so slow in his goodbyes to her, and she really needs to get to the library to work on an essay outline. 
“Will you come with me?”
Her eyebrows nearly fly up to the ceiling. They’ve never done anything in public together — not since they saw each other at Target a few months back, and that doesn’t even count because they weren’t seeing each other back then. It was something that made Y/N toss and turn at night. She knew that in the eyes of the university, their relationship was forbidden — neither of them were that dim to understand that — but in any other context, there was no reason why a couple of their age couldn’t be together. It sometimes made her wish that they did meet under different circumstances, like at a bar or even swiping right on a dating app. 
“I was thinking maybe you could stay over afterwards, because the only appointment they had available for this evening was at 7 pm and I’m not sure how late we would get back,” Harry tacks on, and the addition only makes her stomach continue to swarm with nervous butterflies. “You can say no. I just thought it would be nice. A stay-at-home date, maybe.”
She’s nodding like a robot before her brain even allows her the opportunity to think it over. And yeah, call her childish, maybe, but the thought of him calling it a date — she supposes this is the closest they can get to one in the near future — makes her heart skip a beat.
“That does sound nice,” she agrees with a smile. “Do you want to pick me up at 6? I’ll… I can pack a bag and we’ll go from the vet to yours later on?”
He nods, mirroring her own enthusiastic grin. “Okay.”
. . .
After a marathon at the library (she was in the beginning stages of doing research on a comparative essay on Emily Brontë’s work), Y/N trekked back to her apartment, stuffed some food down her throat, showered, and packed a bag for Harry’s. 
She was a little nervous — okay, maybe fairly nervous, considering the last time they did anything close to this, it had all been very spur of the moment. Things weren’t awkward because of it (it was the opposite, actually), but the rest of their relationship had been spent in Harry’s tiny office. They played footsies while they graded, ordered takeout to the English building while they spoke about their days, and snuck loved-up smiles when they passed each other on campus, but this felt more… finite, maybe. Real. Like they could exist outside the confines of their university.
Harry texts her when he’s on his way and then when he’s downstairs at 6 o’clock on the dot (here xx, which makes Y/N’s heart flutter). She has her usual purse on one shoulder and a tote bag on the other, where she’s packed pajamas for the night, an outfit for tomorrow, and all of her toiletries. She swallows as she locks the front door and turns to see the familiar navy sedan parked right outside, biting her lip when she sees the curly haired brunette in the driver’s seat. 
“Hey,” he greets the second she gets in the car. She flashes him a smile, though his own facial expression exudes an air of nervousness, “Do you know much about cats?” 
“Um, my sister brought a stray in when we were kids. We only kept her for a few days, but I guess I know a little.”
Harry nods, “I’m scared she’s anxious back there. I tried to make the carrier as comfortable as possible for her, but she’s probably nervous, right? She’s in a weird guy’s car and she doesn’t know where she’s going.”
Y/N breathes out a laugh as she twists her body to look in the backseat. Low and behold, there’s a brand new carrier with a small kitten inside. She coos at its salt and pepper fur as she unlocks the gate, gently reaching in to grab the cat. She can’t be larger than a few pounds, and Harry’s right about her being nervous — she’s trembling, whether it be from the confusion of the situation or an issue the vet will likely tell them about. 
“Here, I’ll hold her for the ride,” Y/N murmurs, pressing a delicate kiss to the top of her head, “She just needs some love, hm?” 
“She kept slipping on the hardwood floors in my apartment last night. I felt so bad.” Harry replies as he puts the car in drive, a slight pout on his lips. Y/N laughs lightly at the thought, stroking her forefinger over the kitten’s back. 
“Poor baby,” she glances up at Harry, blinking when she realizes he’d been glimpsing down between them and the road, “Did you think of any names for her?”
He coughs and flicks his right signal on, “Um, yeah. I thought of a few. Haven’t really decided on anything yet, though. I guess it depends on whether or not the vet thinks it’s a good idea to keep her.”
“Sure,” Y/N hums, though she can already tell from her brief knowledge of pets that the likelihood of this little kitten having a home is slim. She’s tiny and underweight and doesn’t have a collar, which means she probably isn’t chipped, either. “I think you’d do well as a cat dad. Maybe you can adopt if this little one doesn’t work out.”
“You think so?”
A small smile cracks at the edges of Y/N lips. It’s apparent that Harry’s scared and needs some sort of reassurance from someone, and she’s happy to be the provider. “Of course I do. I think you have a lot of love to give, Harry.”
She watches as his throat bobs before his own lips form a gentle smile. 
“Yeah. I think I do, too.” 
He reaches over and carefully intertwines their fingers together. When she gives his hand a small squeeze, she thinks she sees his body visibly relax. 
. . .
As Y/N anticipated, the kitten Harry found doesn’t belong to anyone. 
The vet does a thorough check-up and the results are relatively positive; she’s just on the malnourished side and will need a lot of food, love, and care to get her to a place where she’s considered to be healthy. She advises Harry to bring the cat back in a month to do another weigh-in just to make sure her diet is nutritionally-dense enough, and he has no problem agreeing. 
Y/N scoops the kitten up and gently scratches and pets at the back of her head as Harry talks to the receptionist, supplying information about his name and phone number for the follow-up appointment. It’s only when he’s asked for the kitten’s name that he somewhat freezes. Y/N peers up, assuming he’s just nervous because he hasn’t settled on anything yet. It’s understandable, she supposes — if her parents had let her and her sister keep that kitten from their childhood, they probably would have named it “Princess Muffins” or “Little Lady Kisses”, which Y/N just thinks is embarrassing for the cat.
“Ophelia,” he murmurs lowly before coughing into his hand. The receptionist doesn’t question it as she quickly types it in, but it makes Y/N’s eyebrows raise. She continues scratching at Harry’s newly named cat, using her blunt fingernails to slowly rub the patches of fur behind her ears. She’s not sure if she’s being too fussy and self-centered, but if she remembers correctly, the first time she and Harry met, they talked about how Ophelia from Hamlet was a big inspiration for Y/N’s capstone project. She shrugs it off, especially when they’re done at the vet and they step into the low light of the evening. Silently, they walk side-by-side and back to Harry’s car. 
Daylight savings, despite being a stupid concept, arrived just a few weeks prior, which means they’re now privy to a few more hours of daylight before night stretches over the sky. It’s nice — spring hasn’t completely sprung up yet, but there are little reminders here and there that it’s coming. It isn’t freezing tonight but there’s a slight chill in the air, so both she and Harry are bundled up beneath cozy crewneck sweatshirts. He pulls the sleeves of his over his knuckles and the small action makes Y/N’s heart squeeze.
“Are you fine to hold her on the drive back?” Harry asks once they’re back in his car. She nods happily, content with having a small, cuddly kitten curl up on her lap for the next 30 minutes. The evening sunlight bathes the interior of the vehicle as Harry pulls out of his parking spot, flicking on his left blinker to take them back to his place. 
“D’you wanna get Thai for dinner?” Y/N asks, suppressing a yawn as she turns her head to look at the male beside her. Again, she watches as his muscles melt a bit, less rigid than they were just a moment or two before, and a smile edges at his lips as he nods his head. 
“That sounds great. Could go for some pad thai.”
“Mm, me too,” she agrees, taking her phone out to pull up the ordering app, “Can we split some dumplings, too?”
“I’d love that.”
She smiles to herself and they chat aimlessly and quietly about their respective orders, each of them deciding on noodle dishes (Harry opts for a veggie-only option while Y/N picks shrimp) and an order of mushroom dumplings. She asks if he’s vegetarian or trying to be — she presumes it’d be a rather important thing to know about the person she’s… dating? Casually seeing? What were they doing? — but he shrugs noncommittally, as he does for many questions she asks. It’s almost as if he’s not used to people asking him about his likes and preferences, and she thinks that’s dumb. She wants to know everything there is to know about him. 
When she prods him about his vegetable forward habits, he finally explains that no, he’s not a vegetarian, but he likes to eat meat-free when he can. This prompts her to ask him about his other tastes: His favorite ice cream flavor (Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food, which she approves of), his favorite flowers (pink tulips because his mom used to grow them), and his go-to drink when he goes out (“I never go out, I’m an old man, but I am partial to a tequila soda”). 
Her time playing 20 Questions is finally up after he picks up their food and they arrive back at his place. By now, the sun has fully retreated and Ophelia is sound asleep in Y/N’s lap. When he puts the car in park, he stops her before they go inside. 
“Why are you asking me all these things?” he asks with a wrinkle between his eyebrows. She resists the urge to reach out and smooth it with her thumb.
“I just wanna know. I’m curious.” she replies, shrugging.
“You wanna know about the first album I ever bought and how old I was when I had my first kiss?”
“Of course I do,” she pauses, confused. “Why? Do you not want me to know those things?”
He shakes his head. “No, no. I just… I don’t know. I’m surprised.”
“I don’t know how much more forward I can be with my feelings,” she says softly, nibbling on her bottom lip, “I know this is technically against the rules or whatever, but… I like you. You know that, right? That what I feel for you goes beyond sex and some silly fantasy.”
She watches as he swallows tightly. 
“I like you too,” he murmurs, reaching out to take her free hand into his. “I’m sorry I let my insecurities get the best of me but it’s just… odd, I guess, to imagine that you really, truly like me. I sound like a middle schooler, god—”
“Don’t do that.” she quickly shakes her head. If it weren’t for Ophelia still perched atop her thighs, she’d reach forward and take his face between her hands. “Don’t belittle yourself. I like you, Harry. So much that I’m willing to risk my status as a student. You get that, don’t you?”
“Of course,” he nods swiftly, “And you understand what I’m risking, right?”
It’s not meant to be a one-up — it’s genuine and it’s real, and she nods her head and swallows the small lump of tears that’s developed in her throat. It’s the reality of their relationship and it’s necessary to address, especially if either one of them wants to go any further. 
With Harry, he has more to lose. He’d be fired, of course, but his degrees could be taken into question, too. His license as a professor. Everything he’s worked for, all potentially wasted on Y/N.
It’s a heavy weight for her to wear.
But, as if he can read her mind (or maybe he can just read her facial expression), he gives her hand a squeeze. 
“And you’re more than worth it, Y/N.” he says with soft eyes. 
“Will you be my boyfriend?” she blurts out without thinking. Her eyes immediately widen while Harry’s crease with happiness, and she’d contemplate taking back if not for the massive grin that stretches across his face. 
“Truly, I thought you’d never ask,” he replies cheekily, and Y/N responds with a gentle swat to the chest. He laughs. “I did name my cat after you, after all.”
. . .
That night, when Harry has Ophelia tucked into one side and Y/N into the other, and she’s half-asleep as they watch another episode of whatever docuseries she convinced him to turn on, after they’ve eaten themselves into a Thai food coma and talked about the latest books they’ve read with promises to exchange them, he realizes he’s never been so happy in his life. 
Y/N can comfortably say the same. 
375 notes · View notes
kingkonoha · 16 hours
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𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃 — 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈
⎯⎯ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⎯⎯
♡ — 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄
♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: After what happened to you & your son, Satoru couldn’t stop drinking . . .
♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: dark content, fem reader, canonverse, amnesia, mentions of death, suicide ideation, violence, mentions of food, drinking, gojo not eating. mention of gojo’s son & the reader struggling with their disabilities. reader wears dress/heels/perfume.
♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 11K
♡ — 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: Hi everyone, thanks for being patient with me! I doubt many of you remember this story and were waiting for a continuation, but I hope everyone who reads this enjoys this series coming to an end, and thank you for the kind comments on the last part.
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— MONTHS BEFORE THE REUNION —
“I’m going to throw myself off of a building today,” Satoru Gojo thought as he glared down at his uneaten dinner, sitting alone in the booth of a restaurant called Jeezers, a blue and yellow themed sandwich place that hadn’t seen a spec of cosmetic work since the 90’s.
And it wasn’t a drunken idea; there wasn’t any alcoholic beverage that he could blame the unwanted thought on.
But, could he truly call such a thought unwanted?
His body didn’t flinch when the dark image of his planned suicide entered his mind. He didn’t try to push the negative emotion away, tell himself to snap out of it, or immediately try to think of happy things.
Instead, he thought about how he would do it, where he would go, and when.
But, due to his great power, jumping off a roof wouldn’t kill him — what would?
“Do I have to chop off my own head? Is that the only way?” he thought.
Satoru shoved his unappetizing sub sandwich away. The sandwich itself was rather delicious. The employee wasn’t skimpy when it came to the toppings, and for only five bucks, he also was able to get a refillable soda with it.
But the white-haired man didn’t want food.
He wanted his wife and son to come back to life. Or, he wanted alcohol. And to die.
The glass entrance doors chimed as a person walked through them. The generous sandwich maker — and cashier, as the restaurant was understaffed — greeted the hungry customer who casually strolled toward the counter.
“Welcome in!” The young woman said.
“Thanks,” the customer replied.
And, when Satoru heard that voice — as he didn’t bother to look up and see who entered the restaurant — the former teacher sighed heavily.
The sound of footsteps approaching his lonely booth grew louder and louder. As the person came closer, their steps slowed down greatly as if they were approaching a wild animal, expecting it to lash out.
“Gojo?” The call of his name came from his student — a former student — Yuji Itadori. He hadn’t heard his voice in a long time. It sounded a bit deeper, but he still recognized it.
Satoru looked up. Unsurprisingly, Megumi was with Itadori as well, and Gojo’s eyes flickered over to the boy he practically raised himself.
Satoru didn’t bother with faking a smile, nor an overly enthusiastic greeting — one with a touch of a humorous tone — that would capture the personality of the great Satoru Gojo they once knew.
He wasn’t that person anymore. And, now, he didn’t even have the strength to pretend to be.
“Hey,” Satoru mumbled sadly.
At least he was sober right now. If his students had caught him tripping over his own feet, tears falling from his blue eyes as strong alcohol coated his breath, he would never forgive himself.
Much to the depressed man’s dismay, the two sorcerers slid into the other side of the booth.
“We haven’t seen you in a while,” Itadori said, his voice heavy with worry, but kindness as well. “How . . . have you been?”
Satoru took a moment to truly look at them. They were older. When he had last seen them, they were simply young teenagers, but now, their jawlines had sharpened a bit more. Their voices were slightly deeper. They had grown a couple of inches. Megumi was starting to look more and more like his father, while Yuji — who wore his hair pushed back now — started to resemble Sukuna.
Satoru clenched his fist unintentionally.
Sukuna’s finger destroyed his family.
That’s what the higher-ups told him.
Years ago, Satoru could easily tell the difference between Sukuna and Yuji, markings aside. But, now, it was like he was staring right at the King of Curses.
The only difference was that Yuji’s eyes were filled with kindness and concern, not pure evil.
“It’s not him. It’s Yuji. It’s just Yuji. It’s not him. It’s not him,” Satoru repeated in his chaotic mind.
Looking over at Toji — no, it was Megumi — did him no favors, either.
It felt as if Satoru was staring right at his two greatest enemies.
“It’s been a few years,” Megumi blinked, his face solemn. “We didn’t know if they ever locked you up for that little killing spree of yours.”
The dark-haired sorcerer glared at Satoru with eyes that begged for answers, and Satoru could easily tell that he wanted to ask him about the infamous killing spree since the day someone undoubtedly told him the horrific news.
“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” Satoru clarified. He fidgeted with the paper wrapping of his untouched sandwich. “I was targeting curses.”
“Yeah?” A frown appeared across Megumi’s face. “But you were clumsy, and you hurt a lot of regular people too.”
“Leave him alone, Fushiguro,” Yuji glanced down at Satoru’s sandwich.
The uneaten dinner, along with the plain misery written all over his face, made it utterly obvious that the sad man was suffering enough.
Suddenly, the welcome bell chimed again as someone entered the restaurant. A pair of shoes clicked against the tile as they approached the counter before halting abruptly. There was a brief pause before their footsteps picked up once again, quicker this time as they changed their direction and made their way over to Satoru's booth.
“Gojo,” The young woman said with shock, as both a question and a statement.
Satoru looked up to see Nobara. Her ginger-brown hair was longer, falling past her shoulders, but not yet reaching her mid-back. She wore an eyepatch over her left eye.
She slid into the booth, sitting beside Satoru, who hesitantly scooted over.
“I can’t believe it’s you,” she looked at him. “How are you? I could kick your butt for leaving us behind, ya know.”
She smiled sadly as she spoke, her tone soft and humorous despite her words.
“I’m sorry.” Satoru’s leg started to shake.
“It’s okay,” Nobara glanced down at Satoru’s sandwich as well. “I get it. I’m just teasing you.”
“So,” Yuji spoke cautiously, thinking over his words before he said them. “What do you do now? Do you live around here?”
The country music playing softly in the background filled the silence for a moment. His former students simply blinked at him, waiting for a response.
“You guys should go to the counter and order your food.” Satoru stared down at the table. “I think they’re closing soon.”
“Gojo . . .” Nobara frowned, her honey brown eye glistening with worry. “Why don’t you come back to the school with us tomorrow? Everyone would love to see you, and . . . maybe you could talk to the higher-ups about becoming a sorcerer again.”
“The world has gone straight to hell without you,” Megumi added, although truly, he knew it was pointless.
The man couldn’t find the strength to have a proper dinner. He definitely wasn’t in any shape to fight curses once again.
“No, but thanks for the offer.” Satoru managed to glance up at the three of them once again, but it pained him to do so. “It was good seeing all of you, though. I better head home now.”
“Already?” Yuji frowned. “C’mon, Gojo. Just talk to us. Please.”
“What’s there to talk about, Yuji?”
“There’s plenty to talk about!” Yuji raised his voice, speaking louder than he intended, but luckily, the restaurant was isolated for the most part aside from an adorable elderly couple sharing a meatball sub, and the cashier, who started to wipe down the sandwich building station.
“If you don’t wanna become a sorcerer again, fine, but we can still help you.” Megumi stared into Satoru’s eyes. The younger sorcerer was secretly more upset than he let on, but Satoru could see the brokenness reflected in Megumi’s eyes as he started to speak. “You won’t eat your sandwich for some reason, so I’m guessing you’re struggling to eat anything at all. You’re not drunk right now, and yet, you still smell like alcohol. I’m willing to bet that you’re not actually trying to get home right now but to that bar down the street. Am I wrong? Not to mention — you look miserable.”
The silence was deafening.
Nobara thought about kicking Megumi under the table, but she didn’t.
“That was rude, Fushiguro,” Yuji mumbled under his breath, looking down at the table as he did so.
“I know, and I’m sorry, I really am, but kindness isn’t going to help him.” Although he was speaking to Yuji, Megumi’s eyes never glanced away from Satoru.
Satoru stared at Megumi with an expression his old student couldn’t recognize. It sent a shiver up his spine.
“Let me out, Nobara,” Satoru mumbled.
The young woman hesitated, flickering her eye between Yuji and Megumi to see what they wanted her to do. But, she truly couldn’t keep him there. What good would that do?
Nobara scooted out of the booth.
“Gojo, please don’t leave, just talk to us, we care about you,” Yuji's plea fell on deaf ears as Satoru started to make his way out of the door.
“We know you miss your family, but this isn’t how you handle it. Don’t leave . . .”
Satoru tuned out the rest of Megumi’s words.
Both Megumi and Yuji started to get up from their seats and follow their former teacher out of the door, but Nobara stopped them.
The look of sadness on her face spoke for her. It told them that there was nothing they could do. They couldn’t help someone who didn’t want to be helped.
The two sorcerers sat back down, and the three of them watched as Satoru left the restaurant and made his way down the street to the bar.
— TWO WEEKS AFTER THE REUNION —
SATURDAY
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to Ren, happy birthday to you!”
Your boy smiled happily as he leaned over his five-layer chocolate chip cookie cake and blew out his candles. The guests attending his eleventh birthday party all applauded.
“Did you make a wish?” A young girl with dark hair in a ponytail asked.
“Yeah. I made the greatest wish ever.” Ren grinned at his crush from school, a bit embarrassed to tell her what his wish was.
After all, when he blew out the candles, he had hoped that someday, your memories of Satoru would return.
The white-haired man walked up to Ren with a wide grin, wiping away his tears with his thumb. Satoru was wearing a colorful birthday hat, and he looked rather silly, but even so, he was excited to wear it.
“Are you ready to cut the cake?” Satoru grinned. “We can open presents after. How does that sound?”
“Sounds awesome,” Ren smiled back. “This is the coolest birthday I’ve ever had!”
Truth be told, he already had the number one thing he wanted. A dad.
But seeing the enormous pile of gifts in the corner of the venue was insanely cool as well.
The bright smile spreading across your son’s face made you grin too as you watched him interact with his father from a distance.
Satoru had planned Ren’s entire birthday party and didn’t hold back a single dollar when it came to making sure his boy had everything he wanted, from the cake that he started to slice into, to any gift he could ever ask for.
After all, the last birthday Satoru attended was when his boy turned three.
After a day of bowling and arcade games with his friends from school, they all met up with the parents and other adult guests at a local venue.
Blue and black video game themed decorations coated the entire place. His favorite songs blared softly through speakers as everyone ate the food served buffet-style and socialized with one another. During that time, Ren had met several unfamiliar people, such as his dad’s former students.
It might have been Ren’s birthday, but Satoru was just as happy. If the birthday hat wasn’t an obvious sign, then the constant photo-taking was. Every second, he was snapping a picture of his boy. He wanted to take a picture of you too, but he couldn’t build up the courage to ask.
From a short distance away, Satoru stared at you with those pretty blue eyes of his, watching as you chatted with Kento and Yuji.
He wished that he could say that the drinking had stopped once he found you again, that he no longer knew misery once you reentered his life, but that wasn’t true.
He was happy that you and Ren were alive, of course, but you didn’t remember him. And, if you didn’t remember him, then you didn’t love him anymore.
That hurt like hell.
His grief didn’t fade away, it only shifted focus.
But, even so, this was the happiest he had ever been since the great incident, and he managed to go five days without having any sort of alcohol as well.
About five minutes had passed before the conversation between you, Kento, and Yuji had ended. Satoru took that opportunity to approach you with a slice of cookie cake in hand, and with every step, his knees threatened to wobble. Hands almost started to shake.
He was nervous.
In that moment, he felt like his former teenage self who — despite his overly cocky attitude — had to spend months building up the courage to ask you out on a date.
It was the same thing all over again; he was trying to earn your affection.
Because if you couldn’t remember Satoru, then he’d simply have to win your heart all over again.
“Hey,” Satoru greeted, extending his arm as he handed you the paper plate with a slice of cake on it. “I had to fight three kids to get it, but I grabbed you a piece.”
With a soft laugh — one that Satoru missed hearing more than he could ever express — you took the plate from him.
“Thank you.” Grabbing the plastic fork, you took a bite. “And not just for the cake, but for helping out with the entire party. It means a lot.”
“You don’t have to thank me for that.” Smiling shyly, Satoru put his hands in his pockets. “I’ve always spoiled him. I just can’t believe I have the chance to do it again.”
“That reminds me . . .” Suddenly, you turned around and sat the plate of cake down on a nearby table, and faced Satoru once again. “We haven’t had the time to talk about everything, and I’d really like to.”
You and Satoru both sat down at the round table, chairs turned to face one another.
For the past two weeks, conversation between you and him had amounted to nothing more than a few text messages being exchanged, all regarding Ren’s party.
After all, your boy was the only thing you both still had in common. Shared experiences and sweet memories no longer existed, and it wasn’t easy for you to get over your guilt, and for him to get over his heartbreak.
It wasn’t your fault that you couldn’t remember him — obviously. But, even so, the sight of his suffering — even though he tried his best to hide it — made a lump form in your throat whenever you thought about the pain your absence had brought. And your return did little to mend it, thanks to your amnesia. It only brought another form of suffering.
“Noa-I mean, Ren . . . has really adapted to his new life pretty well,” you smiled a bit. “Well, his old life, which is now his new life, or . . . you know what I’m trying to say. I heard him call your friend Uncle Kento earlier.”
“I heard that too. Kento couldn’t stop smiling, and he never smiles.”
A beat of silence passed. Even now, while you were both trying to focus on yourselves — on your own relationship with each other — You noticed that Ren was the main topic of the conversation.
“Ren was worried that you wouldn’t like him. Did you know that?”
“What?” Satoru frowned. “Why?”
“His limp,” you said. “He thought that you would be disappointed. He assumed that any father figure that would possibly appear would be upset to have a disabled son, and discovering that his dad was a sorcerer, and the strongest sorcerer at that, well, it just made him worry.”
“He doesn’t have to worry about that. I think he’s perfect.” Satoru glanced down at the floor, smiling to himself softly as he thought about his boy. But, then, he came to the same realization that you did earlier: Ren was the main focus of the conversation yet again.
“We should talk about ourselves, though.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Clearing your throat rather awkwardly, you pointlessly shifted in your seat. You waited for Satoru to say something — anything to kick the sensitive conversation off. He broke his staring contest with the floor and looked into your visible eye.
But he didn’t say anything.
His eyes darted away from yours, and then a second later, he made eye contact yet again.
And, somehow, you knew exactly what that look meant. You couldn’t pinpoint how you knew, not exactly, but you did.
The way he stared at you, looked away, and then glanced back at you . . . it was familiar.
“What’s wrong? I know that look.” You frowned a bit. “You look like you wanna ask me something.”
Satoru smiled sadly.
“How do you remember Ren, but you don’t remember me? We were a family. I was away a lot, but . . .”
The unreasonable guilt gnawed at your insides. You shifted in your seat again.
“I only remember Ren because he was with me every single day after the incident. After some time, old memories with him started to come back.”
“What about memories of the three of us?”
“Sometimes, I can remember another person being there, and I can remember feeling loved and cared for, but I can’t picture a face or remember a voice. It really sucks, and I’m sorry. I just don’t remember you, Satoru.”
Your last sentence snapped his heart into pieces — what wasn’t already shattered, at least.
As you could see the pain reflected in his eyes, you sat up a bit, and tried to make the situation a little bit less heartbreaking as you said, “but I could, eventually. Being around Ren is what jogged my memory of him, so, maybe, in time, being around you will do the same. And I’m willing to make new memories as well, you know what I mean?”
Satoru made a facial expression that you couldn’t recognize. His face was as blank as a fresh canvas.
“All that matters is that you’re both still alive,” he lied, giving a fake smile. “I’m starting to become okay with getting to know you all over again. It’s better than thinking you were dead.”
It wasn’t okay. Not in the slightest. He wanted his wife to remember him. He didn’t want to start his relationship over, as if you were both strangers, under the pressure to recapture a love that was now lost.
“Why would the higher-ups do something like that?” You suddenly asked. “Why would they lie to both of us?”
“I can think of plenty of reasons. But I’ll deal with them later.” Satoru clenched and unclenched his fist. He planned on handling those god-forsaken higher-ups soon enough, but right now, his family was his top priority.
Once again, Satoru made that familiar face. The face that told you he wanted to ask you something.
“What is it?” You questioned, tilting your head just a bit.
Suddenly, Satoru’s hands were sweaty, just like they were when he was a seventeen-year-old lovesick high schooler.
“Do you wanna go out with me? On a date?”
A bright smile spread across your face. You didn’t know it, but it was the same smile you gave him all those years ago when he asked the first time.
“I’d love to.”
Two hours later, Ren’s birthday party came to an end. He was certain that come Monday, his legendary event would be the hot topic at school.
That night, after tucking your son in and kissing him goodnight — although he playfully insisted that he was too old now to be treated like a baby — you left his bedroom and walked into your own, collapsing on your bed with a sigh.
You gave yourself about ten minutes to rest before getting back up to wash a couple of dishes, take a shower, and brush your teeth. And, as you got ready to go to bed, you only thought about one thing: your date with Satoru.
— WEDNESDAY —
Chicken stir fry and fresh vegetables sizzled in the hot skillet on the stove, the tantalizing aroma traveling throughout your cozy two-bedroom apartment. A short distance away, you could hear Ren playing video games in the living room, chatting with someone through his headset.
“We got second place! Good job — even though I had to protect you the entire time,” Ren paused, laughing softly as whoever was on the other end of the headset spoke.
“What? This is the third duo match where you got eliminated before I did. You can kill curses, but you can’t aim?” Ren laughed once again.
You found yourself curious about who your son was talking to. He certainly wasn’t friends with any sorcerers.
Giving your meal one quick stir, you turned the stove heat down to low.
“I gotta go, I think dinner’s almost ready,” Ren said. “Thanks for playing with me. I know you’re really busy, so . . . thanks. Bye.”
Ren took off his headset and turned off his PlayStation 5 — a sleek, white, and big console that Satoru had bought him for his birthday.
As you stepped into the living room, your son smiled up at you.
“Hey Mom,” he laid his dark blue controller on the couch cushion. “This game system is awesome. It’s digital too, so I don’t have to buy physical copies of games anymore.”
“Yeah, I saw that in the directions. That seems pretty cool, huh?” You grinned softly. “Who were you playing with just now?”
“Yuji,” Ren paused. “He likes video games too. We were playing Fortnite. He said I used to always try to take his phone and play games on it when I was a toddler.”
“Oh, really? That doesn’t surprise me.” Raising your eyebrows in surprise, your smile widened. “It was nice of him to play with you, though.”
For the college-aged sorcerer to take time out of his seemingly busy schedule to play video games with your son was kind of him.
“Dinner’s ready. Put your controller away and go wash your hands,” you said.
“Yes ma’am.”
A few minutes later, you and your son were sitting at the small dining table, eating dinner together as he rambled on adorably about his day at school.
“I have about a week or two to finish my science project, but Mrs. Willows paired me up with Mae.” Ren took a bite of his egg roll as he spoke.
“Is something wrong with that? Mae’s lovely. She’s your crush, isn’t she? This could be a great chance to get to know her.” You thought about the way your son blushed as he chatted with the young girl at his birthday party.
You took a sip of your water and noticed that Ren didn’t respond. In fact, he frowned and placed his bitten egg roll back on his plate.
You knew what was wrong without asking.
Aside from the fact that he didn’t want to discuss the topic of crushes and romance with his mother, he was also incredibly insecure. Mae was always kind to him — that much was true. But, at his age, girls often went for the boys who excelled in P.E. class, not the ones who had a limp and couldn’t keep up with the physically demanding sports.
If only he could be more like his father, and his father’s old students — that is what he must have been thinking.
Not only were they strong and powerful, but they went to a school created specifically for sorcerers.
He should have been preparing to attend Jujutsu High in a few years.
He should have been getting trained by his dad to fight curses and save lives.
That’s what he thought.
“I wish I could become a sorcerer,” he mumbled.
“Interesting thought,” your fork gently scraped against your plate as you stirred your food around. “Why do you want to be a sorcerer?”
“So I can fight curses and stuff like Dad used to do.” Ren paused. “You used to be one too.”
“And the fact that I can’t remember that is exactly why you shouldn’t want to be a sorcerer, honey. It’s too dangerous. Your dad quit for a reason.”
“Okay, okay . . . you don’t gotta talk me out of it. I couldn’t become one anyway.” Ren stared down at his plate. “I was just saying it would be kinda awesome to be special like everyone else. Even you’re special.”
You frowned sadly. Seeing your boy’s eyes glisten with sadness as the corners of his lips fell into a frown was simply too much. The sight of it broke your heart.
“Ren, you are special.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re my mom.”
“No, I’m not.” You stared at the eleven-year-old, trying your hardest to hide how much it hurt to listen to your child’s opinion of himself — both what he expressed through words, and what you knew he was thinking. “You don’t need to be a sorcerer to be special. You don’t need to be great at sports, either. You’re incredibly smart — and I know that because I see your report card — and more importantly, you’re kind too. Not many human beings are as good of a person as you are. Do you know how special you have to be to live in a cruel world like this, and only want to help others? And you’re loved too. Everyone who showed up to your birthday party was there because they adore you, and they don’t care if you have a limp or if you’re not playing sports or killing curses.”
You leaned over, ruffling your son’s head of white hair. “I wouldn’t change a thing about you, do you hear me? I wish you could see yourself the way everyone else sees you. The way I see you.”
Ren smiled softly.
He couldn’t deny that he was loved. The amount of presents he had received for his birthday — which you both struggled to carry into the apartment — was a telltale sign of that. The amount of hugs from teary-eyed strangers who were relieved that he was alive also confirmed that fact.
His friends had also treated him like family.
As he thought about all of it, picking up his fork and gathering a bite of food, he figured that, perhaps, he was worth loving.
“Oh, by the way,” you suddenly spoke up. “I’m closing the coffee shop at three tomorrow, so you don’t go there after school. You can go to your dad’s house if he isn’t busy, or maybe Avery’s. Unless you wanna take the school bus and come home. Up to you.”
“Why?” Ren blinked curiously, but he couldn’t hide his excited grin over potentially getting to see his dad again. Sorry, Avery.
“I have a couple of errands to run. Shopping. Hair appointment. Stuff like that.”
“What for?”
This time, you were the one who couldn’t hide your smile. You took another sip of your water, and calmly — despite the way your heart raced — you said, “I have a date with your dad this weekend, so I need to get ready.”
Both Ren’s smile and eyes widened with unspeakable joy.
While he was overflowing with excitement over his parents going out together, you were filled with nervousness over your upcoming date.
— SATURDAY —
Sitting on the edge of his bed, Satoru Gojo could barely move.
His limbs were unspeakably heavy as if his bones were made out of pure stone.
The bedroom light was too bright. His eyes squinted, but it did nothing to stop his pounding headache.
Kento’s footsteps back and forth from his closet to his dresser — attempting to put together a nice outfit — were too loud.
But Satoru’s negative thoughts were even louder.
“I can’t do this, Nanami.”
Kento stopped walking. He turned his head to face Satoru, frowning.
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Trying to get her to fall in love with me. It’s like we’re seventeen years old again, going on our first date. I can’t do it.” The poor man wanted to cry, a lump forming his throat that made it difficult to speak.
“Would you prefer the alternative? Getting drunk in a bar, thinking she’s dead?” Kento grimaced over his own harsh words, thinking that he might have been too harsh. With a sigh, he stepped closer to Satoru’s bed. “Listen, I know it sucks, but at least you’re getting a second chance. Your family came back, Satoru. They came back. And she might not remember you, but at least she’s willing to make new memories. I don’t understand why you’re so nervous.”
“She’s not the same person that she was before the accident, and I’m not the same person either.”
Walking over to the center of the room, the blonde-haired man laid Satoru’s shirt across the ironing board as he listened to the sad guy speak.
“Well, I don’t think you should be worried about that,” Kento said in response as he ran the hot iron over the shirt, smoothing out every wrinkle. “She knows that everything you’ve done, and who you’ve become, was just a result of thinking you lost your family. The Y/N I know would never judge anyone for being depressed over something like that — and she hasn’t changed that much.”
“But I was more than just depressed.” Satoru looked up at Kento as he spoke. “I hurt innocent people. I spent the last seven years of my life in a bar, and all I want right now is a drink. And you’re right, she wouldn’t judge me. But that doesn’t mean she’d want to be with me, either. I just want a drink, just one goddamn drink.”
The sound of gentle steam being released from the iron and the swooshing noise it made as it went across Satoru’s fancy shirt was what filled the silence.
And, during that silence, Kento stared at Satoru with an unreadable facial expression, one that sent a chill up Satoru’s spine.
His best friend was always so intimidating.
“So that’s it, huh?” Kento suddenly spoke. “You got your family back, but you’re still going to drink yourself to death because it didn’t turn out exactly how you wanted it to?”
“You don’t know how it feels to be forgotten by your soulmate.”
“You’re right. I don’t. But I know it’s better than your soulmate being dead. I said it once, and I’ll say it again: you’re getting a second chance. Most people would kill to have their family come back, even if the love of their life had amnesia and their child couldn’t remember them either. And you’re going to throw it all away because-”
“Nanami, she doesn’t know me.” Satoru’s voice quivered. He stared into Kento’s eyes with a glassy, tearful gaze. Unbeknownst to him, he started to dig his nails into his palm hard to hurt himself. Hard enough to draw blood. “She doesn’t remember anything about me. She looks at me like I’m a stranger. Not only that, but all the pain I went through for all of those years was for . . . for nothing because she was alive this entire time and I had no idea. How can you say I got my family back when they don’t remember us ever being a family?”
Kento turned off the iron.
He approached Satoru, kneeled in front of him, and placed his scarred hand over Satoru’s — a hand that was only so scarred from having to pick up more outrageous missions due to Satoru’s absence from the sorcerer world.
“So, let’s say she did remember you, Satoru. What then?”
“What do you mean?”
“What would you have done if she did remember you? Because if I recall, your relationship wasn’t perfect. You were away a lot, and it broke her heart. If she could remember that, then you’d still be in a similar position to the one you’re in now, because either way, your relationship needs some serious work. Do you really want her to remember how long she had to wait each day for you to return home from your work trips? The special events and holidays you missed? Right now, you have a chance to start over. And, who knows? Starting your relationship over might turn out to be easier than trying to repair it ever would have.”
When Kento finished speaking, Satoru looked sad.
Heartbreakingly upset.
The sight of his frowning face and teary eyes made Kento’s heart ache. He was brutally honest, but even so, he spoke to his friend softly. With love and care.
But maybe he was still being a bit too cruel.
“Hey . . .” Kento softened his voice even more and tried to make Satoru look him in the eye, but Satoru avoided his gaze. “I know what you’re thinking, and you weren’t a bad husband, just a busy one. You had a lot of responsibilities and I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty about that. I’m sorry, Satoru. This is supposed to be a good day.”
Satoru nodded as a way of saying, “It’s okay.”
Kento sighed.
Standing up, he made his way towards Satoru’s bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and dampening it.
Then, he returned to his previous kneeled position in front of him. Gently, he dabbed the fresh scars decorating Satoru’s palm.
“What if she doesn’t like me?” His sudden question broke the silence, but that silence returned rather quickly, as Kento didn’t respond.
Not immediately, at least.
He spent a solid thirty seconds trying to figure out what to way.
“It’s like I said earlier. She knows who you are now and what you’ve done, and that hasn’t deterred her away yet, has it? And for all we know, she could be worried about the same thing too. You’ve both changed, and that’s okay.”
Kento finished cleaning the little blood stains off of Satoru’s pale skin. He removed the towel, and kindly, he said, “Come on. Time to get ready.”
Your knee-length dress was red. It was tighter than the clothes you wore regularly, but not too revealing — the perfect balance of classy and sexy.
Your heels clicked against your floor as you stepped into the bathroom, checking out your hair and makeup one last time.
After spraying a bit of perfume on your wrists and collarbone, it was time to grab your coat and purse, leave your apartment, and meet Satoru at the nice Italian restaurant in town.
Living in a safe, walkable town had its perks, certainly. But with every step you took, you couldn’t help but wonder if Satoru was just as nervous as you.
The sheer panic you felt — it made you want to cancel.
After all, he was handsome. He was the world’s strongest sorcerer, even if he was out of practice. He was the father to your boy. He had memories of you that he was looking to recapture or recreate — the pressure of it all didn’t help ease your misplaced guilt.
The incident wasn’t your fault, but even so, that familiar lump formed in your throat and couldn’t be swallowed down.
Your nerves didn’t begin to settle until you walked into the romantic, warmly, yet lowly lit restaurant and spotted Satoru.
When he smiled at you, it felt . . . familiar.
A wave of calmness washed over you, and you exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
As you made your way to your table — Satoru getting up to pull out your chair for you, like the gentleman he was — you were feeling relaxed.
You couldn’t recall any specific memory, but somehow, you remembered that you had done this a hundred times with him.
Dinner began with a complimentary bread basket and nervous compliments being exchanged.
Five minutes in, you smiled softly at your lost lover.
“So, what was our very first date like when we were younger?”
Your question made Satoru smile too. He took a sip of his water, glancing at the white tablecloth as his mind wondered back to the sweet, cherished memory.
“It was similar to this, kinda. We had dinner together. It was an Italian restaurant as well, but it wasn’t nearly as nice. You, uh, you wore red then too. I remember you saying that you wanted Alfredo, but you ordered spaghetti in case you spilled it on your clothes.”
The look of love in his eyes as he spoke about the past made your heart skip a beat.
“Oh, I get it,” you nodded slowly. “Red sauce would blend in with the red clothes. Seems like something I’d say. I can’t believe you can remember something like that.”
“What’s funny is that I was the one who ended up spilling something,” Satoru paused. “I knocked over the bread basket when I was reaching for my drink.”
“Really?“ leaning forward a bit, your voice was barely above a whisper as you spoke. “For a guy with the four-eyes thing, you’re pretty clumsy.”
“Six Eyes, and I’m not that clumsy. I was just nervous. Even now, years later, you still make me nervous.”
You leaned back in your seat. Your eye glistened with a peculiar kind of sadness — an expression that Satoru didn’t recognize.
“No need to be nervous,” slowly, your beautiful smile faded away. “I’m down one finger and an eye, and this facial scar isn’t doing me any favors. I’m not worth all the effort and worry.”
Satoru stared at you.
A look of insecurity. That was your unfamiliar expression.
He furrowed his brows, the corners of his mouth drawn downward as he put his laminated menu on the table.
“You decided to quit being a sorcerer the minute you found out that you were pregnant with Ren, but before that, you and I went on a mission together to exercise some curses inside of a mall. It wasn’t an easy mission either. I was exhausted, and you were injured. A curse was about to attack you — you had your back turned, trying to treat a civilian’s wound — and I jumped in the way to save your life.” Satoru started to fiddle with the cloth napkin lying next to his menu. “I was fine. I killed the curse. But you were angry with me for getting in harm’s way. You said to me then what you just said now — that you aren’t worth the effort and worry. And that’s not true at all. You’re worth everything to me.”
“You saved my life once?” The sad gaze in your eye softened into a look of pure admiration. “That’s so . . . I mean . . . until recently, my entire life has revolved around my son and my coffee shop. And then you appeared, along with these old friends I can’t remember having, and now I’m always hearing wild stories about me fighting curses and being madly in love with you. It’s crazy.”
You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe another human being loved you this much, in such a romantic way.
The waitress appeared — a kind woman with red hair who jotted down your orders in a tiny notepad. You ordered pasta, and Satoru couldn’t help but smile.
Certain aspects of you have changed forever, but some things still stayed the same.
Once the waitress walked away with your noted order of fettuccine alfredo and his order of ravioli, you shifted in your seat, sighing softly.
“I have another question, and I’ve been wanting to ask you this for a while.” Cluelessly, you blinked at Satoru. “What was our marriage like?”
Satoru’s blue eyes shifted away from yours. Truth be told, he considered lying for a moment.
“It was perfect. We were perfect,” he would have said. “I was always there, and we were always happy.”
He could see the satisfied grin on your face now.
But he couldn’t lie to you. If he won your heart back with a string of lies, he would never forgive himself.
The honest truth wasn’t the perfect fairytale love story that you both would have hoped for, but it was good enough, as what really mattered — what was undoubtedly the most important thing — was that you both loved each other deeply.
“We were pretty young when we got married,” Satoru started, staring at you. “We were young when we did everything, actually. Not just getting married, but moving in together and starting a family too. All we knew was that we wanted to be together. We had movie and dinner nights every other Saturday, but it was hard being a husband, father, and sorcerer. I was away often, and you were always worried about whether or not I’d make it home. You wanted me to quit, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t think anything bad would ever happen to me, and I needed to protect non-sorcerers and mentor my students. It got to a point where I started to miss important events, and you weren’t happy with me. I wasn’t happy with myself either. My very last mission was a few weeks before Christmas. You begged me not to go because you said you had a terrible feeling about it. I just thought that you wanted me to stay home for our holiday traditions. We got into a big argument that night, and I left anyway, telling you that I’d be home before Christmas Day. I felt horrible about it, so I finished up my mission quickly and came home about two weeks early to surprise you. That was when the incident happened.”
Your initial silence made Satoru worry. He looked at you, trying to read the look on your face — attempting to stare into your visible eye and take a peek inside of your brain and see what thoughts were circulating in there.
The quietness was deafening. It was almost worse than you saying that you were no longer interested in rekindling your love, because the silence provided no answers. No closure.
Satoru started to involuntarily shake his leg underneath the table. He so desperately wanted a drink.
“Oh. . .” You finally spoke up, but your empty words, ridden with disappointment, offered little relief.
“I’m sorry,” Satoru said softly, briefly staring down at his half-empty water, the dots of condensation among the glass dripping onto the white tablecloth. “I know it’s not . . . I’m probably not what you were hoping for, but I loved you more than anything. Please believe that.”
Suddenly, that soft smile that Satoru once fell in love with reappeared on your face. Reaching across the table, you grabbed ahold of his hand — the one that was fidgeting with the napkin. You ran your thumb across his fingers.
“Satoru, if there’s one thing that my condition has taught me, it’s that the past doesn’t matter as much as we think it does. I just wanted to know because of plain curiosity, okay? I’m interested in our future and the man you are now.”
This time, following a small sigh of relief, Satoru was the one who smiled. It was the grin that you once fell in love with, even if you couldn’t remember ever doing so.
The date was filled with soft laughter, delicious pasta, and heartwarming stories.
You and Satoru sat at the dining table long after your meals were eaten and paid for. As the hours flew by, other couples and families coming and going, you both didn’t leave until the employees started stacking chairs and mopping the floors.
Together, you both walked down the street of your cozy little town, grinning down at your shoes stepping on the fallen orange and brown leaves covering the sidewalk.
“So, where’s Ren? Is he at home or . . . ?” Satoru questioned.
“He’s sleeping over at his friend’s house.” You put your hands in the pockets of your jacket. “That reminds me. He came up with an idea the other night, and I wanted to run it by you.”
“What is it?”
“A family dinner,” you glanced up at Satoru. “Just us three, sitting around a table, all having a meal together. The whole domestic vibe. What do you think?”
“I’d love that.” With a smile, Satoru started to blush a little.
“Okay, great. I’m thinking seafood, maybe? Hm . . . I don’t know. Kinda don’t feel like dealing with an apartment that smells like shrimp and crab. You know what? I’ll just open a window and spray some Febreze, it’ll be fine. Seafood it is. You’re not allergic, are you?”
Listening to you ramble made Satoru’s heart pound rapidly. It made him want to kiss you and mourn your lost years. But he couldn’t let on the effect that you had on his mind, body, and soul, even if you knew how he felt.
He had to keep all of that inside and remind himself that to you, he wasn’t the love of your life, but a mere friend.
“I’m not allergic. I love seafood, or all kinds of food, really.” Satoru glanced up at the stars for a moment, thinking about how over the last few years, eating was a chore. He went from being a food lover to a man who had to be forced to eat. But now that you reappeared back into his life, so had his love of all things sweet, spicy, and savory.
You brought back the parts of him that were human.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” Satoru suddenly spoke up.
“Of course.”
“Have you . . . had any other partners? Since the incident?”
Your shoulder gently bumped against his arm as you both walked. Based on the tone of his voice, he hadn’t asked you that question out of jealousy per se, but curiosity.
“A few, but nothing that lasted very long. Mostly fantasy-obsessed weirdos who just wanted to brag about dating someone who wears an eyepatch, like I’m a fictional character or a damn pirate or something. But, uh, what about you?”
Satoru laughed a bit, but not humorously.
“Nope. I could barely function like a normal human being, let alone be in a relationship.”
He didn’t mean to make that burden of guilt reappear.
Catching a glimpse of you staring at the ground, he opened his mouth to apologize, but you started to speak before he could do so.
“I hate knowing that I caused you so much pain. I should have done something. I should have never let the higher-ups force me to start a new life, or at least, I should have tried to figure out who Ren’s father was. I’m sorry.”
Satoru grabbed your hand. He didn’t think it through — didn’t pause to wonder if such a display of affection was okay, but you didn’t seem to mind. Your warm fingers curled around his.
He couldn’t wait to tell Kento about it.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, okay?” Satoru stared at you, paying no mind to anything that might have been in front of his walking path. “I picked working for people who would destroy my life at any given chance over my own family. None of this would have happened if I had been home like I should’ve been. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
At this hour, all of the small, local businesses were closed, cute little brown buildings showcasing nothing but darkness when you glanced through their windows as you strolled by.
However, one place was still open.
It was the bar.
Walking past it, you held Satoru’s hand a little tighter.
The white-haired man couldn’t see it, but as he made his way by the entrance doors, the bartender could see his former customer walking by with a small, sober grin.
The bartender smiled to himself as he washed a glass.
He was incredibly happy for that man, and he hoped to never get another dollar from him again.
“So what happens now?” Your sudden question made Satoru hum in response and tilt his head a bit. Continuing, you asked, “Are you going to go back to being a sorcerer?”
“No,” Satoru shook his head. “I passed the torch on to my students a while ago, and I think they’ll be just fine.”
As you both unhappily arrived closer and closer to your apartment, a sad frown appeared on Satoru’s face. He didn’t want the date to end. He wanted to keep walking with you forever.
Letting you go with the promise of seeing you again soon never came easy after the incident.
Your footsteps clicked against the hard ground as you made your way to your front door. With a shy smile, you turned and faced the white-haired man.
“Thanks for walking me home. I’d invite you inside, but it’s getting late, and I have to head to my coffee shop in the morning. I was able to get a few bookshelves put in. Can you believe it?” Digging through your purse for your house keys, you smiled at Satoru. “I just gotta spend my Sunday actually putting books on the shelves now before we open on Monday. Boxes are sitting everywhere right now.”
“I’m happy for you,” Satoru said. He couldn’t help but wonder if this newfound passion for books, coffee, and entrepreneurship came after the incident, or if you were always interested in such things, and he never noticed.
He would have bought you a two-story bookstore and coffee shop years ago if that was the case. Was that always your dream and you kept it hidden from him? Why? Did it have anything to do with having to raise Ren and run the house while Satoru was off fighting curses and training his students?
He wanted to ask — and he almost did, his lips parting a bit — but he knew you wouldn’t remember. You wouldn’t have an answer.
“You should stop by sometime!” Your smile brightened. “Do you like coffee? You seem like the kinda guy who’d like something on the sweeter side . . . a mocha, maybe?”
Satoru couldn’t help but lovingly mimic your bright smile, his eyes flickering from your eye to your lips, and his heart skipped a beat.
Most people would assume that a guy like Satoru hated sweets. Back when he was a sorcerer, others figured that he avoided sweets and sugary things to keep himself as healthy as possible. Truthfully, though, he was the kind of person who would have dessert for every meal if he could. Both because it helped energize his overactive mind, and because he simply had a sweet tooth.
But you knew.
Was it something you remembered, or was it nothing more than a lucky guess?
Satoru couldn’t say. You couldn’t say.
However, no one could deny that your old personality was starting to return while in his presence. You had never known yourself to be the kind of person to ramble on and on, but here you were, spending your night talking so much that your jaw had started to ache.
After one proper evening together, the gorgeous man was bringing out a side of you that you had never known — or, perhaps, had forgotten.
“You could serve me a cup of toilet water and I’d drink it,” Satoru said with a gentle, brief chuckle. “But yeah, I have a sweet tooth.”
“So I was right.” You paused. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later.”
The smile on his face faltered as uncertainty flooded his mind, as he didn’t know how to properly say goodbye. You held hands earlier, and you had hugged once before, but should he initiate one now? Should he shake your hand? No . . . too professional. The last thing he wanted was for your reblossoming relationship to amount to that of a business transaction.
He decided to play it safe. He mumbled a quick goodnight, gave you a soft smile, and started to walk away.
“Wait,” you called out.
With a little hum of confusion, his brows raising slightly, he turned and faced you.
Reaching up, your hands gripped his shoulder, pulling the taller man down a bit before planting a soft kiss on his cheek, which instantly reddened the second your lips came in contact with his soft skin.
“Goodnight,” you mumbled.
When your face was still a whisper away from his own, Satoru kissed your cheek back.
It was a subconscious act — as natural breathing. You’d kiss his cheek, and he’d kiss yours back.
“You used to kiss my cheek all the time.” He pulled away from you, blushing.
“Really?” You wrapped your fingers around your house key, turning towards your door briefly to place it in the lock. Looking back at him as you twisted it, you said, “That’s probably why I wanted to do it now. It just felt right, I guess. I don’t normally kiss my dates on the cheek.”
“Right, well,” Satoru, once again, started to walk away. “Goodnight.”
That night — after soaking in the bathtub and texting Satoru to make sure he got home safely, although you felt silly doing so, being that he was the most powerful man in the world — you rested your head against your pillow and started to drift off to sleep.
In that state, in which it felt as if your mind, body, and soul were stuck somewhere between falling asleep and staying awake, Satoru’s face appeared in your mind.
Only — he was younger.
He wore dark sunglasses, and a dorky smile, cheeks pink as he blushed . . .
“Y/N!” He called out, waving for you to come over and join him where he stood in a shady spot underneath a big tree.
As you approached him, the cocky teenager put his hands in the pockets of his school uniform, trying his hardest to seem cool and calm. But despite his best efforts, he was still a blushing mess.
“Hey,” you greeted politely, smiling up at your tall classmate. “Everything alright? I’m gonna be late for training.”
“Y-Yeah,” he awkwardly cleared his throat following his stutter — which made him wish that the ground would somehow open up and swallow him whole to ease his embarrassment. “I just . . . wanted to say hi. I’m sorry I didn’t call you after our date. Well, I did, but I hung up before you answered because I got nervous. Not-not that I normally get nervous or anything, I’m pretty chill, but it was late and I didn’t know if you wanted to talk, or if you’d think I was weird for calling you after we had just hung out. I’m not weird, I promise. I’m not as cocky as everyone says I am, either. I’m just a normal person. You’re not, though. I-I mean, you’re normal, but you’re really strong and pretty, you know what I mean? So, uh . . . yeah.”
An amused grin appeared on your face. Meanwhile, Satoru’s own face reddened even more with every shaky word he spoke. The gifted sorcerer couldn’t look you in the eye.
“You’re adorable,” you chuckled softly, watching as he fidgeted around, unable to stand still in your presence. “And it’s okay. You make me kinda nervous too.”
Your eye darted away from him. Satoru glanced down at your hand and saw that you were fiddling with the end of your sleeve.
“Do you wanna go out with me again?” Satoru’s words were rushed, rolling off of his tongue and falling from between his lips much quicker than he wanted.
“I’d love to.” Your sweet smile made Satoru’s heart skip a beat. Glancing down at your watch, you said, “I gotta go, but maybe we can have lunch together tomorrow. Diner down the street?”
“Okay, that’s cool,” Satoru couldn’t fight the urge to grin, his cheeks starting to burn. “I’ll see you later.”
You started to walk away, but suddenly, your footsteps came to a halt. Turning back around to face a puzzled Satoru, you approached him once again, motioned for him to lean down, and you planted a kiss on his cheek.
“Bye,” you grinned.
Satoru couldn’t speak. Your lips touching his red, blushy cheek had seized his ability to communicate like a normal human being. His body froze, his throat dried to a crisp, and his overactive mind was incapable of forming a coherent thought.
As he watched you start to walk away, eventually snapping out of his trance, he shouted, “Wait!”
The happy teenager leaned down and quickly kissed your cheek. Then, he ran off to locate his best friend, Suguru Geto, eager to tell the dark-haired boy about the heartwarming interaction he just had with the woman he was certain he’d marry someday.
— THURSDAY —
Less than a week has passed since your wonderful evening with Satoru. During that time, your coffee shop was now a fully operational bookstore as well. You and Satoru stayed in your shop well past closing hours, sipping on beverages and chatting. On Tuesday night, you, him, and Ren enjoyed seafood and board games.
It was wonderful.
Spending time with him often led to dreams when your eye fluttered shut and the moon was shining through your curtains.
However, the dreamlike images of that beautiful man didn’t feel like dreams at all.
And your therapist agreed.
She suggested that, perhaps, they were memories.
But there was only one way to truly differentiate between what was real and what wasn’t.
And that was by asking Satoru. Only he could tell you if the beautiful scenarios that appeared were missing pieces of a life you had forgotten.
That Thursday, the setting sun began to darken the baby blue sky, and faint stars appeared above the school in which a science fair was taking place.
In the big school gym, several students had their artistic projects on display for judges and parents to walk around and admire. Ren and Mae had created a presentation about power and electricity.
He looked so proud as he stood there, pointing at several different wires surrounded by Mae’s detailed drawings of lightning bolts, explaining the scientific process to curious guests.
However, what he was proud of more than anything was his mother and father, who stood behind the group of judges and parents and snapped pictures of him. The young boy would occasionally dart his eyes away from the crowd of strangers admiring his presentation and smile at his parents.
He had two of them.
A mother and a father.
Later on, as the judges gathered to discuss the winners of the science fair, Ren walked off to chat with his group of friends. While everyone had to create a project for a class grade, submitting it to the science fair was completely optional. Only true science-loving geniuses took it that far. Even so, Ren’s friends — the ones who attended his birthday party — all showed up to support him. They didn’t know a thing about science beyond what they could scribble on a ripped sheet of paper and hide under their sleeves during tests, but they knew one thing: they wanted to be there for your boy.
Approaching Satoru with a white paper cup of water, you smiled at him softly.
“Hey, do you have a minute? Can we talk outside?”
“Of course,” Satoru matched your smile with a grin of his own. Even if he was busy, he’d make time for you now. Always.
Walking through the see-through doors and stepping outside into the darkening surroundings was a nostalgic experience. It was an entirely different school, but hearing crickets chirp and seeing families walking home after their own events ended as the falling sun finished off another beautiful day reminded Satoru of your after-class walks from way back when.
He faced you with a look of curiosity.
“What’s up?”
“I was just wondering . . . do you remember what our second date might have been like?”
Satoru’s eyes darted up at the stars for a moment — he remembered, of course.
“Uh, yeah. I’m pretty sure I remember every date. Why?”
“Just curious,” you lied. The last thing you wanted to do was give him hope that your memory was returning, only for it to turn out to be nothing more than a pointless dream.
“We planned it right when we saw each other in person again after our first date. I was nervous and apologetic about not calling you the night before — either I was nervous or I forgot, I’m not sure — but we went to a nearby diner, one close to the school.”
You shifted your stance a bit, much too excited to stand completely still. Could it have been a coincidence?
“I think I might have remembered that.” As you spoke, Satoru’s eyes widened. “I had a dream — or I thought it was a dream, but it felt too real. We were standing outside of a school, wearing uniforms. We were both still so nervous around each other, but you were rambling a bunch, and . . . I’ve just been having a lot of similar dreams like that lately. To know that they actually might have been memories . . . I can’t believe it.”
“Wh-What else do you remember? What were the other dreams about?”
You went on to describe what you had seen.
Satoru’s eyes started to water as you recalled some of your shared memories. The stars appearing in the sky above seemed brighter.
Although you couldn’t remember everything, for now, it was enough.
“I know it’s not a lot, but those little memories are something I’ll hold onto forever. Some of them came back, and I don’t plan on letting them go anytime soon,” you said. “I might not remember our first kiss or every anniversary, but I’m starting to remember how it felt to love you.”
Satoru’s world stopped. It was a feeling similar to the day he first found you and Ren at that one grocery store.
It was a combination of shock and love running through his veins.
Satoru’s large hands cupped your cheeks. Slowly, he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours.
Satoru lost you once. Then, you reappeared. However, kissing you softly, yet passionately in this moment is what led Satoru’s soul to believe that he had finally found you.
Your sweet lips moved against his with a familiar pattern one would only have while kissing their soulmate. Even if your mind had forgotten much, your soul knew. It just knew.
The entrance doors belonging to the school opened and closed. Parents were heading back inside after ending phone calls or smashing their cigarette butts because the awards ceremony was about to start according to their watches.
Sadly, you and Satoru had to pull away, breathlessly, though, and after reuniting for two or three more little kisses.
“I’m starting to get jealous of the old me who used to kiss you like that every day,” your beaming smile was too cute.
“No reason to be jealous, you can still do it every day if you want to,” Satoru’s face was only inches away from yours as he spoke.
“Well, come on, let’s go see if our boy won first place. We can talk about our new every day later,”you said, grabbing ahold of Satoru’s hand.
You led him back into the school, where Ren would later accept his first-place trophy.
As the three of you celebrated his victory — together, as it should be — being a family started to become your new every day.
— TWO YEARS LATER —
White dresses and fancy cakes were on your mind, the old, sweet memory of walking down the aisle, glancing up at your teary-eyed husband, had recently come back to you in great detail.
You could taste the classic vanilla cake flavor on your tongue. Smell the special cologne Satoru wore that day. Feel the swaying rhythm of the song played during your first dance.
Today, as you drove your thirteen-year-old to school with him in the passenger seat — the middle school was too far of a walk compared to the elementary school — you touched the knob of your radio and turned up the music a few notches.
“What song is this?” Ren questioned, listening to the unfamiliar ballad.
“I think it’s a song from my wedding. I’ll have to ask Satoru later.”
Ren smiled. Another potential memory was unlocked.
“I’m also hoping he can take you to get a haircut tomorrow because I gotta-”
“Whaaat? No, Mom, no haircut, okay?”
“Since when do you not like haircuts?” You made a swift right turn as you spoke.
Ren scratched the side of his white hair, feeling his growing strands.
“I’m trying to grow it out until it looks like Dad’s, so not too long, but a little longer than it is now. Plus, Mae said that she likes longer hair. Oh, and can you take us to the movies Friday? I forgot to ask earlier.”
“Sure,” you agreed with a soft smile.
Your son and Mae had officially been dating for about a year, and it was beyond adorable.
Turning into the drop-off lane in front of the school, you pulled Ren’s packed lunch out of the backseat, along with his backpack. He was a growing boy — a realization that brought both you and Satoru to tears — and, naturally, his stomach was a bottomless pit right now.
“Bye Mom,” Ren started to open his car door but paused. “By the way, I hope you and Dad get remarried soon.”
And with that final thought, he closed the door and limped away.
Three days later, Satoru proposed.
Just like he once did years ago, Kento helped him out with planning the details of a perfect proposal.
It was in a beautiful, forestry area lit up with fairy lights — a gorgeous local walking trail you both strolled down together often.
He got down on one knee. Pulled out a mesmerizing ring. Cheeks red from being nervous, an emotion only you could bring out of the extroverted man.
There was no greater joy than when you wrapped your arms around him after saying yes.
God, he loved you. He loved you, and he loved you.
And, once again, you had promised to spend the rest of your life with him, because, god, you loved him. You loved him, and you loved him.
Satoru kissed you deeply after you accepted his proposal, tears streaming down his face.
“This ring isn’t just an engagement ring.” Satoru’s lips hovered over yours as he whispered, “It’s also a promise ring, too. Because I promise you that I’ll be the husband you deserve this time around. You were always so scared back then of falling in love with someone you could lose, and I’m letting you know now that I’m here, and you’ll never lose me to anything, especially a career path. You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried.”
“Don’t worry, the past doesn’t define us as much as we think it does, trust me. You, me, and Ren are going to be just fine, okay?” You ran your thumb across his blushing cheek. He was so beautiful. “Let’s just focus on our future. On our every day.”
Satoru kissed you softly, mumbling a subtle, “Okay.”
He had his worries, but whenever your lips touched his cheek, and his lips touched your cheek, he had a gut feeling that, perhaps, everything would be alright.
— DECADES LATER —
“This color looks pretty, Grandma.”
Your eldest granddaughter gently rubbed one of her favorite lipsticks across your lips. “Brings out your eyes.”
“I only have one, honey, but thank you.”
Softly, she laughed. Growing up, she loved hearing the made-up stories about how you got your eyepatch. You being a pirate on an adventure to save captured mermaids was her favorite tale as a child.
She was Ren’s and Mae’s firstborn, the oldest amongst their three children, and the only girl. Your granddaughter was sweet and kind enough to help you get ready for a family brunch.
Ren, who was in his forties now, stepped through the front door of his lovely home with his wife and two sons.
He walked into the living room and greeted you briefly as he kissed your forehead before heading into the kitchen and sitting down a big brown bag filled with groceries.
Then, several more kisses followed from your fellow cherished family members.
You smiled with pride. Ren was a successful surgeon who married his childhood sweetheart and had created a beautiful family.
Suddenly, you frowned.
“What’s wrong?” Your youngest grandson asked, tilting his head a bit.
“Where’s Satoru?”
You glanced around for your husband. You missed him. Where did he go?
Your granddaughter held your hand.
“He’s in the bathroom, remember? He left a few minutes ago. He’ll be right back.”
You gave an unsatisfied nod.
Memory loss has always been a struggle for your entire life. Be it object permanence as a baby, amnesia as an adult, or plain ‘ole forgetfulness as an elder.
But at least you remembered love.
That much was obvious when Satoru returned to the living room, eyes crinkly as he smiled, and your mood suddenly changed into complete and utter happiness.
“You look pretty,” Satoru ran his hand across your cheek. “That’s lipstick, hm?”
“Brings out my eye,” you joked.
As Satoru took a seat next to you on the couch, Mae shouted from the kitchen, “Hey, come help us.”
Your three grandchildren left the living room to assist their parents, leaving you and Satoru alone to enjoy each other’s company by chatting and watching TV until brunch was ready.
He had his arm wrapped around you, his body heat warming your entire soul. There was no greater joy than being with him.
That night, you and Satoru were snuggled up underneath your thick comforter, facing each other in bed.
“After all these years, you still make me nervous,” Satoru said, staring into your eye, his cheeks becoming the faintest shade of pink.
With a warm smile, you slowly kissed Satoru’s cheek. He kissed yours.
You touched a strand of his gray hair. Then, your lovely, wrinkly fingers graced his cheek, the warm lighting from his bedside table lamp highlighting his aged, beautiful face.
“Thank you . . . for another great day, and for all the memories. I love you, Satoru.”
A little yawn escaped you. As you drifted off to sleep, Satoru mumbled, “I love you too, Y/N.”
In time, you will once again start to lose all of your memories. Slowly, it will all fade as you grow older and get closer to your impending demise. Satoru had grown to accept that expected outcome. However, this time around, if you passed on before the retired sorcerer, he wouldn’t be a sad man stuck in a bar, mourning. He would be at your bedside, holding your hand and kissing your cheek.
Then, he’d wait for the day in which he too would pass on and join you in the place of eternal happiness and rest, where, finally, both of your souls would be at peace after what happened.
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♡ — 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠!
🏷: @sad-darksoul @sircatchungus @gojossocks @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @star-toruu @yobabymama @s7armin @minmin-minnie @jexx233 @roninishere @dreamsarenicer @starzcoffeelvr @delghoul @buttercupmuffins @dijaicar @tuliptoot @sweet-yzabelle @creative1writings @lympha @malikazz243 @bforbiblio @galagarts @enesitamor @luffysfav @chilichopsticks @misscellaneousisme @1plwushie @blackjou @gfmima @dazedflvr @safiest58ravenclaw @dyna-mights @honestlywtfisgoingon @pnkoo @levin4nami @frogtee @myhomeworksnotdone @ushygushybaby @wooasecret
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lightblue07 · 2 days
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Insecure |OP81
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Oscar Piastri x Norris! Reader
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Oscar knew that his girlfriend is wonderful... he didn't know that other drivers thought the same. feeling insecure should not be part of your relationship
MASTERLIST
A/n: English is not my first language!! (You can send writing ideas if you have any)
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Oscar walked through the Paddock looking for his girlfriend.  The day of practice was already over and they had agreed to go to dinner.  He carried her purse in his hands, having collected all of her belongings that she had left in the garage.
His girlfriend, always sociable and friendly with everyone, took forever to say goodbye, even if they would see each other again the next day.
He found her surrounded by some drivers. Max, Carlos and Charles were talking animatedly with her.  Oscar knew that they were as tired as he felt, but he also knew that Y/n was so mesmerizing that she would trap anyone in a conversation.
He approached slowly, not wanting to interrupt her, but knowing that they had to leave sooner rather than later if they wanted to get to the restaurant.
He stood next to her and she turned her head to smile at him with the brightest smile she had. he immediately felt y/n's hand intertwining with his.
"Are you ready to go?"
"Yes," she nodded and then seemed to remember something. "Wait, I didn't say goodbye to Lando, I'll be right back."
She let go of his hand, gave each driver a kiss before running towards the McLaren garage, waving off some journalists she had known for years.
"At this rate we will never leave" Oscar mocked and Carlos laughed next to him.
"Well, you managed to date the most sociable girl in the world"
"I know"
"You got lucky with her" Max commented after losing sight of her and joked "if we had known that the new guy would take the big prize, we would have sabotaged your arrival."
The other two pilots laughed and Oscar did too, but without understanding what he meant.
"what do you mean?"
Charles let out a small laugh "come on, as if you didn't know we all have a little bit of a crush on y/n."
"You are?"  He frowned
Carlos cleared his throat. "I mean, maybe... a little. But, mate, we would never do anything. She loves you and we respect her. Both of us."
Oscar saw y/n in the distance walking next to Pierre and they were both laughing.
Now, what he had always believed were kind and friendly glances, he realized were more.  Much more
"See you tomorrow." He said goodbye and walked quickly towards his girlfriend. The drivers looked at each other with regret.
"We screwed up"
"Yes, I think we did," Max confirmed.
Oscar couldn't think of anything other than knowing that everyone liked his girlfriend.
Not that he could blame them, she was one of the most wonderful people he had ever met in his life, he shouldn't be surprised that many noticed it too.
He felt strange, a feeling of insecurity settled deep in his chest and mind.
He always knew that he wasn't the best candidate to be her boyfriend.  A boyfriend like the one she deserved.  It was one of the reasons he had been so reluctant to date her in the first place.
Since he knew her, knew how different they were.  Where he was calm, she was a complete hurricane; Always going from one place to another, talking to everyone. 
And then there was him, who liked the tranquility, the silence.  He had friends, of course, and he really enjoyed their company and especially of his beautiful girlfriend, but sometimes being alone was very comforting for his brain.
And yet, she persisted with him. 
He was grateful that she had done it, but the doubt was killing him.
Did she know that she had more options than him?  What could she have whoever she wanted, if she wanted it that way?
Oscar wasn't as funny as Carlos, or as handsome as Charles.  He didn't even win as many races as Max.
It didn't make sense for Y/n, being so wonderful, to date someone like him.
And that thought was killing him.
He arrived at the garage the next day, at night he had not slept as much as he would have liked.  Dinner the night before had turned out quite awkward.
Y/n had felt bad, believing that she had done something wrong to make Oscar calmer than normal.  But she knew that had done nothing more than be the way that always was. She had decided to stay in her hotel room for the day to give him some space.
"Where is my sister?"  Lando approached Oscar to greet him
"She decided to stay at the hotel for today" he answered, put down the notebook he was reading "can I ask you a question?"
"sure"
"did you know that some people here like y/n?"
Lando nodded "well, yeah."  He looked at Oscar "It's been a lifetime, she has something that attracts people... and it's not her bond with me" he saw the frown of his partner and understood "You didn't know that?"
"No, I mean, yeah," he sighed tiredly, "it doesn't matter."
"I've never seen her as in love as is with you," Lando commented, patting his on the shoulder. "Don't worry."
"I am not worried"
"Well, tell to your face then. See you later"
"bye"
Oscar pulled out his cell phone when it rang, it was y/n.  he answered on the third ring
"Hey"
"hey babe" her voice was as sweet as always "I wanted to wish you luck today in qualifying"
Oscar smiled unconsciously "thank you" he made a silence and spoke again "I think I'll be a little late today, but we can order something from the room service if you want"
"I would love to, I'm sure we can find something that fits your diet"
"Yes, surely you will order the biggest hamburger you can find"
"You know me darling" he heard the soft laughter from the other side "see you in a couple of hours"
"Yes take care"
"always, I love you" y/n waited carefully for the response.
Oscar swallowed, and whispered "I love you too"
When she hung up, she stared at the phone for a second and then put it aside, laying down on the bed and staring at the ceiling.  Oscar had been acting strange since the day before and it was making her nervous.
Did he not love her anymore?  Was he doubting her relationship?  Was he finally getting tired of her and her personality overflowing from her? 
God, he hoped not, because she would be devastated if Oscar broke up with her.
Charles, Carlos and Max watched carefully as Oscar spoke to Logan from a distance.
"He's frowning," Leclerc commented to his teammates.
"maybe he's just concentrating on what they're talking about" Carlos said
"he seems a little angry" Max continued "If y/n finds out that we made her boyfriend mad, do you think she'll be mad at us?"
The Ferrari boys spoke at the same time
"Yes"
Max nodded "let's hope she doesn't find out then, y/n being angry isn't something I like to see...or face"
Oscar was listening to Logan speak, but without really listening to him.  His mind was completely out of whack and the Williams driver noticed it, in addition to his bad mood.
"Are you okay, mate?"
"yes, I'm sorry"
"don't worry, I understand. y/n didn't come today."
"why do you assume it's because of y/n?"
"Well, she keeps things pretty fun around here. I guess we all noticed when she didn't come to the Paddock."
Oscar let out a humorless laugh "I guess so, apparently everyone does" and added nonsensically, standing up a little straighter "She's my girlfriend."
Logan frowned in confusion and laughed a little without understanding "I know, everyone knows."
"right" he nodded without changing his posture, gathering his things "I have to go, my girlfriend is waiting for me. See you tomorrow"
"Sure. Tell her I hope to see her tomorrow, see you"
On the way back to the hotel, his bad mood settled on the road. When he got to his room he sighed before opening the door.
The room was empty.  He left the things on the desk
"love, is you?" he hear her voice from the bathroom.
"Yes," he answered, approaching the door, "can I come in?"
"of course"
Oscar opened the door to find her in the bathtub, surrounded by foam, her hair tied up, and she looked at him with a smile.
"How did it go?"
"P5, better than previous practices" he leaned against the door frame "how was your day?"
"Quiet, I went to the hotel gym and then to the spa. It was relaxing"
"I'm glad your day was good" he tried to smile "I'll go see what's on the hotel menu."
He was about to turn around to pick up the phone when she stopped him.
"Wait, you're not going to kiss me?"
"Yes, I'm sorry" Oscar cursed himself internally as he approached her and placed a soft kiss on her lips and got up from her before she could deepen the kiss "I'll order you a hamburger and fries."
Y/n frowned as she watched him leave her. she stood up from the bathtub and grabbed a towel to wrap it around her.
She found him talking on the phone and ordering food.  She waited for him to finish speaking so as not to interrupt him.
"You're going to catch a cold if you don't change quickly," he told her when he found her standing in the bathroom door.
"Are you going to break up with me?"
"What?"
"Are you going to break up with me?"  She repeated it slowly, separating the words
"No, why would I?"
"Since yesterday you've been acting strange, at dinner you barely spoke, then you don't want to kiss me and you talk as if you don't want to talk to me. If you need a little space..."
"Hey, hey, stop. I don't need space, I'm sorry for acting like that. I think I'm just tired from practice."
"and now you're lying to me" y/n shook her head and grabbed some clothes to go back to the bathroom to change.
When she came out, Oscar was sitting on the bed, with his hands on his face, looking stressed.  She tried not to pity him, after all he was the one who was lying and acting strange with her.
She was thinking about taking her things and going to Lando. Y/n knew her brother wouldn't mind sharing her room with her.
"Did you know you could date anyone you wanted?"  her boyfriend's voice sounded
"what?"
"literally anyone, you could be with someone who is more fun, sociable, handsome..."
"Wow, I need you to stop there and explain to me what all this is about."
Oscar removed his hands from her face and looked at her almost sadly.
"You could date anyone else, but you're with me. Why me? I need you to explain it to me, honey, because the doubt is killing me."
y/n walked up to him and sat next to him
"What do you mean by why? It's you. Everything about you fascinates me. From the first time I saw you, I knew I had to be with you. I can't imagine loving anyone else. You, with that calmness that counteracts my hyperactivity. You with all the things you do for me. You, who have done nothing but make me feel so loved."
Oscar looked at her with unshed tears "but I..."
She cut him off "there are no buts with you. I love you and I don't want to love anyone else. Because no one is more fun, handsome than you. And you are sociable in your own way, you always let me drag you to all the events I can. I think you don't realize how terrified I am that you'll realize you can do it better than me."
Oscar wiped away his tears "I feel stupid now" y/n stayed silent, waiting for her next action.  Her boyfriend opened the hugs "can I have a hug?"
"All that you want"
They stayed there, hugging the edge of the bed for a few minutes.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't mean to make you feel like that, I would never break up with you."
"It's good to know" she separated from him and they knocked on the door to deliver the food.
Minutes later, when they were both already eating on the bed.
"Hey," she called after swallowing a big bite.
"What?"
"When you said I could have any man I wanted"
"yes..." he replied cautiously
"Do you think Henry Cavill would be with me?" she asked mockingly
Oscar took a piece of bread and threw it at her, causing her to laugh "shut up."
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wildestdreamsblog · 2 days
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Latibule Season 2: III
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)
Summary: In which he lost his latibule.
Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.
A/N: As promised :) Leave a comment or reblog if you enjoy!
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GIF by urmingirl
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Masterlist, Latibule 2.II
Taehyung looked up from his cellphone to his eldest hyung that was currently cooking their dinner. He pouted when he was not given the appropriate amount of attention he should be given. Honestly, he deserved it! After a moment when he still did not get what he wanted, he finally asked the question he had been dying to know the answer to.
“Hyung, is it always like that?”
“Hmm? Like what, Tae?” he asked while chopping diligently the vegetables the renowned doctor was preparing for a certain psychologist and his brothers that insisted they were hungry as well.
“When it ends…does it always hurt like that?”
Seokjin blinked at Taehyung’s unprompted question. He paused before he finally brought his eyes to the actor. He knew that the younger man had always been eccentric. His clinical condition definitely explained his behavior, but not this. He was never curious about the emotions he couldn’t feel, nor did he ever show any interest on understanding emotions. As the years passed by, Kim Taehyung got better at masking and pretending by learning the root causes of the emotions he could see. The brothers had always thought that this was precisely why he chose to be an actor. Everytime they watched him cried, laughed, or acted furious for his movies and dramas, they thought he was a different person.
Jin thought it was just understandable why he dropped the knife he was holding.
“What brought this on?”
“He-“ he lifted his mobile phone to show Jin the picture Jimin snapped of their Yoongi hyung looking like he had lost all his will to live. Taehyung found it so ridiculous that Jimin even made a collage of him and a cat that depicted their hyung. “-looks like breathing is a chore and is only fighting to live so he can end his enemies.”
Jin would have laughed had this happened before he met his sunshine. But now, the mere thought of her leaving set him on edge, and he knew he would be similar to Yoongi if not worse. Slowly, he picked up his knife as he carefully chose his words. He was always like this with Taehyung ever since he knew that something was not quite right in his mind, well…more than any of them, to be honest. The younger man took things at face value, and all the brothers knew to talk in a straightforward manner so there wouldn’t be any confusion on Taehyung’s part.
He kidded you not, once when they were still teenagers, they asked him to go ahead and get them a table in a restaurant. He left without any qualms only to return not an hour later carrying a big ass table from a restaurant. That was a horrifying memory, Jin thought, and that was when they all decided to change the way they talked. It was Namjoon that took it too far and enrolled the man in a body language class to better cope with society. However, it was Jungkook that forced him to take psychology classes with him for fun.
“I think it’s different,” Jin started, busying himself once again with cooking. “Yoongi never has love like that, I guess. It’s understandable that he acts like a sad lonely cat.”
Seokjin could still clearly remember how Yoongi looked at you. It was like you were all he ever wanted and more, like you were his reprieve from the darkness in his life. You were, as he called you, an angel to him. And then he lost you.
“Why?”
“Well…she’s his personal slice of heaven,” he answered, his voice contemplative and understanding of what Yoongi was going through. Jin paused in his chopping, a thoughtful expression crossing his features as he carefully considered his words. “And he’s been living in hell the very moment he was born. What do you think would happen if he was given a taste of heaven and then lost it?”
“Just like Hoseok hyung,” Taehyung nodded, slightly understanding the downfall of these strong men.
“Seriously, you are all worse than the ahjummas who love to talk about other people’s lives. Be better than that, guys,” Kim Namjoon observed with his deadpanned voice as soon as he walked in the kitchen. He took in the scene of the two men conversing and the other man quietly eating the snack Jin prepared him.
Jin scoffed as he rolled his eyes at Namjoon. “As if you wouldn’t react like that when your secretary finally resigns.”
To which, Namjoon only smirked. “Who says she can leave?”
“How will you stop her and her son if the father finally shows up?”
Namjoon, with his hand in his pocket, calmly uttered words that no normal people would believe to have any other meaning. “Well, as you said, the dead don’t exactly come back to life, do they?”
 Jin chuckled at Namjoon. Of course, he did something about that man. It was apparent, he thought. He could still vividly remember the look in Namjoon’s eyes when he told him that his secretary was pregnant and that the asshole of a father even put his hands on her. Suffice to say, it was the most unhinged Namjoon ever was.
“I think Namjoon will be the worst among us if he ever loses the love of his life,” Jin noted with lightness in his voice.
“Nah,” Jungkook finally lifted his head from his bowl. “I sincerely think it’ll be Taehyung.”
The conversation never left Jeon Jungkook’s mind. Anyway, he didn’t need anyone to tell him to do this. He did this out of the bond he shared with his brothers. Had this happened to any among them, he would have done the same.
He thought that it was cruel to let them experience the same hell he had been living every single day.
And so, he worked tirelessly and utilized every available technology and connection he had just to look for Yoongi’s angel. When he said she was alive, when he said he felt in his heart that you could have not gone where he couldn’t follow, then he’d believed him. He wouldn’t lose anything by looking for you, Jungkook rationalized. But he didn’t want to unnecessarily get his brother’s hopes up until he had evidence that you were indeed alive.
One morning, it finally happened. There you were.
Jungkook’s eyes could not have gone any bigger as he watched the CCTV of a far province in his office.
That was you, he was sure.
Without a moment's hesitation, he reached for his phone and dialed the person he knew he could trust. "Hyung, can you come to my office?" he requested urgently, the excitement and disbelief evident in his voice.
“That’s her,” Kim Namjoon validated after a moment. He was standing beside Jungkook’s seated form as he leaned in the monitor. He was ever the image of calmness with his hand in his pocket, his suit immaculate and not a crease in sight.
Seokjin raised his brows as he sat in a relaxed manner on the couch. Jungkook didn’t even call him, yet he was here because he was, per his words, bored and that a certain sunshine was not where she should be. “So the dead can indeed come back to life,” he noted with a tone the two men couldn’t understand. “Pray tell, Namjoon-ah. Should we tell Yoongi?”
Jungkook blinked at the rising tension between the two men. Whereas Jin merely looked curious, Namjoon looked like he was looking at the end of the sword with the way his jaw was clenched. He stood up straight and took a second to answer Seokjin.
“Of course, hyung. This is a great news, after all.”
“Hmm,” Seokjin smirked, his legs crossed as though nothing could have fazed him. It was moment like this when Jungkook could see the mafia prince in his usually playful hyung. Everybody knew not to cross this man despite him appearing goofy and motherlike to them.
Jungkook thought that it would only take one momentous catastrophe for him to return to his dark persona. He didn’t want to see that, though.
“He’s suffered enough, right?” Jin asked the room with a light tone, yet his eyes pierced through Namjoon’s. “Right, Namjoon-ah?”
Seven Mississippis passed before he answered. Jungkook knew because he counted, and he hated the tension he didn’t know why was present.
“Jungkook, tell Yoongi hyung,” Namjoon ordered.
—-
Min Yoongi’s brows were pulled together as he walked in a bustling street of a faraway province. He had to drive almost four hours just because their maknae told him to be here at this exact hour, claiming that he desperately needed him to be there. However, Jungkook was not answering his phone despite numerous calls from him.
Where was even that little shit, Yoongi asked himself as he surveyed the whole place.  
Despite barely getting any sleep, he found himself in a situation where he might have to scold his youngest brother for the first time. He should have been in Seoul right now, but he couldn’t exactly say no to him. He had shit ton of things to do and yet he was indulging the youngest brother.
Maybe this was exactly why he was spoiled? Ah, but anyway, he was a good kid.
So where was he?!
He walked further into the thick of the plaza, his phone plastered in his ear as he listened to the annoying and incessant ringback tone of Jungkook. Seriously, at this day and age? His eyes roamed the area of happy locals, at which he rolled his eyes.
He was on the verge of deciding whether he should just go ahead and kill Jungkook when he finally answered.
“Where the fuck are you?” he growled over the other line, his patience running thin when the man just answered innocently.
“At Seoul, hyung-“
“Then why am I here?! I swear to heavens, if you made me drive here just to buy you a weird snack then I’ll really kill you!”
“Seokjin hyung will be mad!”
Right. The eldest was protective of the youngest. What a nuisance, he thought. “Then I’ll do it in secret.”
Jungkook chuckled nervously. He couldn’t place whether he was joking or not. His money was that if his hyung could get away with it, he’d be floating in the river at this very moment. “I asked you to go there because I have a surprise for you, hyung.”
“I don’t particularly enjoy surprises-” he began, but was swiftly interrupted.
“I know, I know. But this one, I’m sure you’ll like. This is the most beautiful, most precious, most amazing surprise ever. You’ll stop sulking and looking like a sad cat and Jimin hyung will finally stop taking badly captured and cropped photos of you and make it into a collage. Taehyung hyung will stop observing your miserable demeanor for his next movie. You’ll finally stop living like it’s such a chore and-“
His back was bumped by a force. Turning around, he prepared to glare at the perpetrator only to stop because there it was.
There was you.
It was as if the universe finally said that he had enough and stopped punishing him because he saw you when he was not even looking for you. Your mouth hanged agape, your hand going to your forehead as you murmured apologies to him.
He was stunted. No, he was bewildered.
Was this real? Or was this one of his cruel dreams again, a figment of his mind playing tricks on him?
But no.
He had been living in hell, yet moment he heard your voice, all the sufferings disappeared. This was really you. You were truly alive. He was frozen as his wildest dream was brought into life. His whole body went into a state of shock, something that he never thought could ever happen.
It didn’t really matter the years he spent without you because one touch, one word- these were all it took for him to forget the bitterness your separation brought him.
With a trembling voice, Yoongi dared to call for you. “Ange-”
But before he could say another word, you interrupted, your voice light and apologetic.
“I’m really sorry, mister. I didn’t see you,” you chuckled, slightly lifting your walking stick to explain the small accident. You bowed down at the man before going your way.
And he stood there, watching as the love of his life walked away from him, unseeing. He thought he could no longer hurt. He thought that nothing could have fazed him any longer. But he was wrong. Watching you walked, unseeing as you traversed the plaza with only your walking stick pained him.
How did this happen to you?
Was it because of the incident?
Was that why you couldn’t return to him? Because you weren’t able to?
Or did he miss all the glaring signs?
Slowly, he lifted the old phone you gifted him years ago to his ear. “You didn’t stop looking for her?”
Jungkook was quiet for a moment. “Well…I would never wish this hell on anyone, much less my brother,” he stated, his voice carrying a certain tone of sadness they often heard from him. “Go get her, hyung.”
The bustling city streets faded into a blur around you as you walked, your steps slow and deliberate despite the cacophony of noise that surrounded you. Your sight may have been almost gone, but your other senses seemed to have sharpened in response, each sound and scent painting a vivid picture in his mind.
You remembered that when you were younger, you read a passage from a book entitled, ‘The Song of Achilles’. You thought it was a well-written book, a love that transcended even death. There was a line your college friends always thought to be a masterpiece. But you never understood it. The line so many people loved never really touched you.
Until it did.
Until you understood each word written in that book.
“I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”
Because right now, the words made sense. You could recognize him despite your deteriorating eyesight. You knew him. He was here. And he was following you…to what exactly? Was he here to end you? Was he here to make sure that you wouldn’t tell the world of his secret identity?
Regardless of the reason, you tried to remain calm as Hoseok always ordered you to. You had no choice but to lead him back home, otherwise you were sure that he would be suspicious. The man that you used to love was perceptive, and any suspicious movements could alert him. From the moment you opened the front door to the time you closed it, you knew you only had a couple of seconds.
You fished the phone Hoseok gave you, one with tactile buttons and controls that made it easier for you to use it. You knew you couldn’t use the speech-to-text feature, otherwise he’d hear. And so, with a tense movement, you sent a message to him.
He’s here. Don’t come home. Leave with my son.
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purple-babygirl · 1 day
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don't call me daddy V
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x little!f!reader Word count: 4,660 Summary : In a world where littles are openly themselves, they volunteer to help and be helped by willing caregivers. In spite of himself, Bucky finds himself stuck with one and to keep the nagging away, he has to learn how to be around her with everything that that entails. Warnings: crying, age regression, fluff, a little angst A/N: i would like to give credits for this part and its idea to🦊nonnie because without her ask there might've not been a fifth part to this story. Having said that, i'm thinking this should be the last part of the story because i am out of scenario your girl is empty. but anyway, please enjoy this one and have a tight hug xx💜💜
~
When they arrived back at her house, she was asleep in the passenger seat.
Bucky didn’t want to wake her up. He knew she barely got any sleep last night because of the mean cough she was suffering from and so he carefully carried her inside without a word.
His heart kept speeding up every time he would remember what she called him after taking her shot as he slipped her feet out of her shoes and socks and tucked her in her bed.
He frankly had no idea what he would do if she was to wake up little and if he was ready to be a good daddy to her. What if he messed up again? He seemed to be a pro at that.
Luckily, when she woke up later that night, she was her big self again and didn’t seem to have any recollection of calling Bucky daddy, or if she did, she didn’t mention it.
Bucky gave her her cough syrup and the rest of the meds, helping her go back to sleep as he presumed his place on the floor by her bed.
In a way he couldn’t explain, even her coughs were more comfort than the silence at his house, and definitely more comfort than his nightmares.
It was 12 days of little sleep, a lot of crying, meds, movies and sleepovers until she was fully cured again, and even though Bucky hated that she was sick, those seemed to have been some of the best days he’s ever gotten to live since he’s come back to himself.
He got to laugh with someone, care for someone, comfort someone and enjoy the company of someone. And not just anyone; it was her.
But something was missing still.
Bucky wanted her to call him daddy. More than anything and from the bottom of his heart, he wanted to deserve that name, that role.
What Bucky had noticed in the days he’d stayed at her place was that she had no family pictures at all.
She had framed pictures of friends, of herself, of Corgi, but none of family members.
It didn’t come as a surprise because she’d mentioned it to him before, and he just knew that if he wanted to be her caregiver, her daddy, Bucky had to prove to her that he was nothing like those who’d hurt her. He had to prove himself worthy of taking care of her; set himself apart from them.
And to do that, he had to know more.
“I see no family pictures anywhere,” Bucky spoke as he helped her plant the new tulips she had in place.
“Yeah, we’re not close.” She shrugged, hand stuttering just the tiniest bit in their movements.
“Can I ask why?”
She sighed, “why?”
“I���m trying to learn from the mistakes of others.”
She laughed, “really?”
“Really.”
Oh, this wasn’t a joke?
“You know you don’t have to do that anymore, right?” She couldn’t understand why he would want to try again when the report was handed and he was let off the hook.
“I want to. I really want to.” Bucky wished his gloved hands weren’t muddy as they were so he could touch her face.
He found himself craving physical contact around her more often than not.
“You finally believe in the power of the program?” She teased, keeping her focus on the flowers she was rooting.
“No, I couldn’t care less about the institution and its programs.”
“Not even Mrs. Morrison?” She joked again.
“I’m serious, doll.”
“Why then?” She dropped the bulbs, deciding to face Bucky.
“I want it because it’s you I’ll be daddy to.”
“They never loved me for who I was.” She answered his previous question and Bucky felt a pang at his chest.
He’s made her feel the same way.
He remained silent, not wanting to interrupt her in fear that she might stop.
“I always had to be a certain way, say certain things, act a certain way. Do what we say and then we’ll see if we can love you.”
Bucky might’ve been speechless, but his eyes spoke a million words, begging hers for forgiveness for his ignorant mistakes.
“That’s why it hurt so much when you showed me you didn’t accept the little version of me.”
“I’m so sorry-”
She shook her head, stopping him.
“I’ve been rejected for too long, Bucky, too many times. It took me a good while to finally believe that I was worth loving despite my quirks, ugly parts and possible mistakes. Took too long to teach myself that it didn’t matter if I cried all the time, was too clingy or too talkative; I was still lovable.” She pointed to her chest as she finished her words.
Bucky took his gloves off, pulling her in for a hug, unable to stop himself anymore. He had no words, only anger and remorse raging inside his chest.
“It takes you a while to unlearn stuff you’ve been taught your whole life by the people who were supposed to love you the most.” She whispered into his shirt.
“Doll, I’m so sorry,” Bucky whispered back.
“It’s okay.” She looked up at him, “I appreciate you, Bucky, I really do, but I don’t think I’m ready to lose everything I’ve built inside me if you decide in the middle of it that you weren’t fully ready to take on such a responsibility. I forgive you. I promise. But I don’t trust you enough to give up full control of myself and my life to you again. I’m sorry.” She pulled away from the hug, giving Bucky the option to walk away.
“Don’t be. I understand.” He remained in place.
“Are you gonna disappear now?” She wondered with a sad smile.
“No, you’re not getting rid of me so easily.” Bucky returned the smile, putting his gloves back on.
She smiled gratefully, “I don’t wanna lose you either. You’re such a great friend. And I owe you forever for taking care of me those past few days.”
“What if I prove myself to you though?” Bucky asked, dipping a tulip bulb in the soil.
“What?” She tilted her head in confusion.
“What if I show you how serious I am about this and prove myself worthy of you?”
“Bucky, you don’t have to do that. I know you have a life, responsibilities-”
“I want to do it. There’s nothing more important to me right now than this. And you.”
“If you’re doing this just because you can’t accept that you failed the program-”
“I swear on my ma’s soul, I want to do this. Because of you, doll. For you and with you.”
The words died on her tongue as she watched his sincere eyes implore hers.
“Would you give me a chance to prove myself to you? Please?”
“Okay, Bucky.” She swallowed, “one chance.”
“That’s all I need.” Bucky smiled.
~ After their conversation in the garden, Bucky had to go home.
She was not sick anymore and he didn’t have a reason to stick around. He also didn’t want to push her on the matter of regressing, so, respectful of her boundaries, he left.
His heart was heavy when he entered his empty apartment to nothing and no one. Being alone in here wasn’t something he enjoyed anymore.
It has been 2 days of intense research that Bucky has conducted on age regression and partners in little space when she texted him that night.
“Mr. Barnes, can you please come over?”
He wasn’t particularly happy about the fact that he was Mr. Barnes again, but he certainly was happy that she thought to text him when little. This was an improvement and it counted to Bucky.
“Will be right there, doll.” He texted back, running to his motorcycle.
~
Bucky took in a deep breath before knocking at her door, ready to prove himself a suitable daddy.
She opened with teary eyes, making Bucky’s heart sink.
“What’s wrong, doll?” Bucky asked as he stepped inside.
“I can’t open the pickle jar and now my hands hurt,” she cried, showing him the insides of her palms and how red they were from trying so hard to twist the cap on the glass jar.
She was indeed a little worried that Bucky might find this stupid, that he might yell at her or get upset because she was crying over something minimal in his eyes.
But that wasn’t the case at all. The man was just thankful that she was alright.
“Oh, doll,” Bucky sighed in relief, glad that she wasn’t actually hurt.
Until he remembered that this was a big deal to her. Her hands hurt and she was frustrated because the cap wouldn’t budge.
Moments like these definitely required a daddy.
“I thought Mr. Barnes could help,” she sniffled, her hand wiping under her nose, “metal arm.” She touched his gloved hand.
Bucky chuckled, taking the pickle jar out of her hand, “what if I can do it without the metal arm? What would you give me in return?”
“The biggest pickle?” She offered, wiping her tears away from her eyes, her crying stopping at once.
Bucky laughed at her innocence, “no, I want something else, doll.”
She tilted her head expectantly.
What could Mr. Barnes possibly want? Did he want the whole jar? Would he at least leave her one pickle? She was craving pickles-
“I want you to start calling me Bucky again. No more Mr. Barnes. Can you do that for me, doll?”
Oh, that was something she could do.
“Only if you can open the jar with your not metal hand,” she challenged, her little mind amazed by the idea because look at her hand! It had red marks all over when she tried opening that jar.
“You got it,” Bucky said, easily twisting the cap on the jar open, making her mouth open with it.
“Woah,” she whispered as Bucky handed her the jar with a laugh.
“You’re welcome, doll.” He smiled, watching her chew on a crunchy pickle.
“Thank you, Bucky.” She smiled back, offering him a big pickle.
Bucky’s nerves tingled, knowing he was one step closer to her and his desired title.
~
Moving forward, Bucky learned to distinguish between her big self and little self through texts.
Her little self would always talk about him and herself in third person.
Plus, her big self always needed help with bigger things like needing Bucky to fix her sink or look at her car, knowing he might burn down the city if she went back to asking Adam for help with those things.
Her little self, on the other hand, would need help with the lighter things, the sweeter things. She would call asking for help with Corgi, something too high on a shelf or even just wanting Bucky’s company.
Tonight was one of those nights.
It was thundering more than usual and Bucky had wanted to go and be with her, but he didn’t want to invade her privacy.
But then she called and her scared voice saying his name had Bucky moving even before she uttered the words.
He was proud that she now knew that he was just only one call away; that he would come running whenever she needed. She could finally count on him to be there for her and he couldn’t be more contented.
He knew that consistency was important in relationships, especially one where she was little.
“Hey, doll, it’s okay. It’s just a little thunder,” Bucky cooed, rubbing her back as she let him inside.
“I’m not scared anymore now that Bucky is here.” She smiled, her breathing visibly slowing down.
“Well, I’m staying the night so you have nothing to worry about,” he chuckled, following her to the bedroom.
“Bucky covered his motorcycle?” she asked, worried his vehicle would get ruined.
“Leave that for now, we’ll hose it down together tomorrow when it’s sunny.”
“Corgi loves the hose,” she spoke out the first thought that came to her mind and Bucky loved it, laughing heartily at her comment.
The dog’s ears perked at the sound of his name, jumping at Bucky’s feet as soon as he entered the bedroom, waiting for his share of pets.
He bent down to give the dog some love when he heard her sigh.
“Corgi loves Bucky too.” She smiled shyly, internally wishing her name was Corgi.
“Bucky loves Corgi right back,” Bucky whispered, leaning in to kiss her forehead.
She only smiled bigger, running to her bed and getting under the covers.
When Bucky got down to sleep on the floor that night, however, she slipped off her bed and right next to him.
“Doll, the floor is too cold for you. Sleep on your bed, come on.” Bucky sat up, wanting to help her up on the bed again but she wouldn’t move.
“Wanna be next to Bucky,” she said with a pout.
“But-”
“I know Bucky can’t sleep on beds. It’s okay. Doll will sleep here,” she told him, squeezing Wolfie in her arms.
Bucky’s heart fluttered and it made his mind light up with an idea only a true daddy would have.
“Do you wanna build a fort?” He suggested and her face instantly beamed with a smile as she nodded.
Of course she did!
That night as Bucky gathered all of her soft blankets to make her a floor mattress inside a fort full of fluffy pillows, he knew he was smitten.
This girl had him head over heels for her and there was nothing in the world that he wouldn’t do just to see her smile.
“Can Bucky please tell me a story?”
“Sure, doll. Do you have any books I can read to you from?”
“I have books that big me likes but I don’t want those.”
“What would you like then?”
“I want a story that is Bucky’s. Tell me a story you didn’t tell anyone at the institution.”
Oh, she was jealous. The thought made Bucky smile as he pulled the covers up to her neck to make sure she was warm down on the floor.
“Okay, you ready?” Bucky asked, dimming the lights in her room.
She made herself comfortable under the covers, big eyes watching Bucky’s handsome grin as the cozy atmosphere he’s created comforted her through the storm, “ready.”
“Once upon a time, there was a small idiot who picked up fights with boys much bigger than himself. His name was Steve…”
Bucky fell asleep with his hand stroking her hair, watching her soft breaths leave her chest that night without abruptly waking up in the middle of it for the first time in forever.
~
Bucky didn’t know what it was like to be her, but he was going to do his best to put himself in her shoes like she’d previously tried.
She deserved to be fully and entirely understood.
He witnessed a glimpse of her feelings towards the concept of family a couple of times when they would watch movies like The Lion King or Lilo and Stitch.
She didn’t seem to be affected by the death of Mufasa even though he knew her to be a very sensitive little. She was sad for Simba, of course, but not for Mufasa’s demise. Similarly with Lilo and Stitch, she didn’t care much about the concept of the family.
There was an actual barrier separating her from experiencing any positive feelings that came with the idea of family. Because she had none to associate with hers.
With some more research, Bucky managed to find a few animated movies that didn’t seem to revolve around the idea of family love and how family was everything and whatnot.
One of those movies was The Willoughbys. The movie depicted how neglecting some parents can be and that 2 people loving each other and getting married didn’t necessarily mean they would love their children too.
It was a very unique movie and Bucky was actually happy they could make such movies nowadays.
When the song I Choose You started playing in the movie, Bucky felt her small hand squeezing into a fist.
He silently wrapped his hand around hers, offering quiet comfort and support.
He looked down to see tears in her innocent eyes as she showed her feelings for the first time during one of their movie nights.
 “Bucky chooses me?” she croaked, lip trembling as she cried.
“Bucky chooses you, doll. Wholeheartedly.” Bucky reassured, bringing her knuckles to his lips.
“I choose Bucky, too.” She pulled him down by one cheek to leave a kiss on the other.
Bucky froze.
It was the first time she’s kissed him since he applied that cream on her burnt hand back at his house. She did it on her own, too.
“And I choose Corgi,” she said, running her fingers through the hair of the puppy sleeping soundly on her lap.
“That’s right, and Corgi chooses you. Family doesn’t have to be the ones you were born with, doll,” Bucky told her as he wiped her tears away, “you can choose the family you want for yourself”.
“Thank you, Bucky.” She hugged him tight, afraid he might not be real and that this moment is all made up.
“You’re welcome, doll.” Bucky kissed the side of her head as they pulled away.
“Can I choose Adam, too?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper as she gauged Bucky’s reaction.
She could actually hear his chest rumble with a low “argh” before he nodded despite himself, making her giggle.
“Don’t worry. I only have one Bucky.” She reassured, slinging her arm around Bucky’s metal one.
One daddy, she wanted to say, but she couldn’t. She was still scared.
~
Bucky knew that she needed her own independent time alone sometimes even when little, and he would allow her just that, texting throughout the day just to make sure she was okay, reminding her to drink water and take care of herself.
But there was one particularly hard weekend when she felt real down about some of her plants dying as the storm took them out of the ground.
When she opened the door she was clearly disheveled, hair all messy and looking like it hadn’t been brushed all week.
“Hey, doll,” Bucky spoke gently as he closed the door behind him.
She quickly ran into his arms, needing the comfort more than anything, “my plants are dead and Corgi peed on my new carpet and my hair doesn’t smell like shampoo anymore and I’m-”
Damn. She was spiraling. She just slipped out of his hug and on the floor. Oh no.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here now and I got you, okay?” Bucky tried his best to reassure her, getting on his knees before her to look into her eyes.
“Okay,” she hiccupped, nodding even though she wasn’t fully convinced.
“What happened to the plants?” Bucky wanted to handle her concerns one at a time.
“My apple trees were pulled out of place because of the storm,” she started sobbing again as she remembered what had happened to her hard word.
“Okay, okay, tell you what, I’ll put them back in place, okay?”
“Really?” She sniffed.
“Really.” Bucky smiled kindly.
“Okay.” She nodded, trying to control her breathing.
“And we’ll throw the new carpet in the washing machine, and keep Corgi in his playpen with pee pads,” Bucky gave her the steps of how the day was going to go, leading her by the hand to where Corgi was.
“Okay.” She nodded again, her tears ceasing.
“And while the carpet is being washed, I’ll help you wash your hair. Does that sound okay?” Bucky asked her permission, wanting to make sure she was completely comfortable.
“Yes.” She was finally smiling again as well.
“Okay, let’s get you in here,” Bucky told the puppy before placing him inside his playpen.
He spread a few sheets on which the dog could pee if needed before collecting the affected mat.
“Let’s take this to the washing machine,” Bucky voiced his movements, wanting to put her at ease as he kept her hand in his and walked with her to the bathroom.
“In you go.” Bucky threw the rug inside the washing machine along with some detergent.
“Now what do we do?” He asked her, wanting to keep her out of her head.
“Wash doll’s hair?” She asked with half a smile.
“That’s right, get in there.” Bucky tilted his head towards the bathtub with a smile.
And for some reason, it was different this time. He didn’t feel all weird seeing her naked. Maybe it was because he knew her better this time and was familiar with her in more ways than one that such intimacy didn’t startle him. He wasn’t sure, but Bucky wasn’t complaining, only grateful as she closed her sweet eyes and trusted him to wash her hair for her.
~
“Alright, show me how it’s done,” Bucky encouraged, instructing her to whip her hair to the front so he could wrap the towel around it.
She did as told with a giggle, dangling her hair before her and letting Bucky wrap it up the best he could.
“Off to the couch.” Bucky chuckled as he watched her skip in her cashmere bathrobe to her couch.
Later after Bucky has brushed her hair for her, he helped her get dressed and they went outside together to replant the fallen apple saplings the wind had knocked down just like he promised.
The smile on her face was new and unmatched as she watched Bucky handle her plants with care.
“Thank you, Bucky.” She hugged him close, hardly wanting to let go as they stood in the middle of her garden.
Bucky was now rooted in her heart just like the plants in her gardens were in their soil.
She didn’t think she could be away from him anymore. She didn’t want to be away from him anymore.
“Daddy, I’m hungry,” she whispered timidly as they started walking back to the house.
“What do you want on your piz- what did you say?” Bucky stopped in his tracks.
“I’m hungry.” She bit her lip and looked away quickly, hesitant now that his eyes were on her.
“Before that, doll.” Bucky brought her eyes back to his by her chin.
“D-daddy?”
Bucky smiled a smile that reached his eyes as they lit up with gratitude. He couldn’t believe he was finally hearing that word.
“Daddy’s thinking pizza, doll. Sound okay?”
Her face glowed up with her own smile as she witnessed Bucky, with full commitment, refer to himself as daddy.
She nodded, knowing this was going to be the most delicious pizza she was ever going to eat.
~
“What is daddy thinking?” she asked when she noticed his eyes on her, slipping a loose strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear.
“Just thinking about all the things you make me feel, doll.” He smiled, turning his face to kiss her hand before it left his face.
Her face started heating up as she retracted her hand, tingles spreading all over her, “things like what?”
“You make me feel like there’s still good in this world. Like I’m worth patience and kindness and maybe even… love,” Bucky voiced his feelings, eyes dreamy as they watched her pretend to be focused on organizing her stuffies’ seats on the floor.
“You are, daddy,” she replied sincerely, hurting inside that Bucky might doubt this even a little.
“I can’t believe I was so horrible to you, doll.” Bucky’s sigh came out hot from his chest, holding so much regret.
“That’s in the past, daddy. Doll doesn’t think about it no more.” She smiled, her littler hand covering his own lovingly before giving a soothing squeeze.
“You’re just perfect, aren’t you?” Bucky held her hand up and gave the back of it a noisy kiss.
She laughed, face heating up more at the sweet attention, “no body’s perfect, remember?”
Bucky tried to continue laughing with her but he was still kicking himself for what he did to her during her visit to his house.
“How did you even tolerate me back then, doll? I was the worst.” Bucky covered his face with his hands as he threw his head back, laying on his back on the floor full of shame.
“That’s not true. You just misunderstood me and that happens!” She was quick to defend him, refusing the idea that he would even criticize himself, “daddy is the best.”
“I know, but it still gave me no right to treat you the way I did.” Bucky’s eyes teared up at the memories of his very mean words and actions, “I made you cry a lot.” He struggled to forgive himself for that one.
“Daddy, I forgave you, I swear,” she promised, her hands cradling his full cheeks.
She felt like her heart might stop from sadness if Bucky was to cry right now.
“I’m really sorry. I’m really really sorry, doll.” Bucky’s eyes were sincere, holding so much emotion in them that she felt her own begin to fill up with tears.
“Daddy, you don’t need to apologize no more,” she whispered, doing her best to hold back tears.
“You have made me the luckiest man on earth by accepting me as your caregiver, your daddy, and you’ve taught me so much, doll.” Bucky actually started crying, a lot of held-inside feelings coming out at once.
“Daddy.” Her thumb wiped under his eyes gently as she felt her own tears roll down, “don’t say stuff like that”.
“But I need to. Because you did. You taught me unconditional love and acceptance. You taught me what it means to live again. Doll, your patience with my terribleness has taught me that maybe I’m not a hopeless case after all, and that this shell of a man with a metal arm might be capable of things he thought have been wiped from his memory long ago.”
“Daddy, please stop crying,” she sobbed, pressing her forehead to his chin as her attempts at wiping his tears away have proven to be futile.
“I love you so much, doll. I love you with every old bit of me and if you’ll have me…”
“Daddy?” she raised her head, eyes on Bucky’s face, trying to read his expression.
Could Bucky really be asking what she thought he was asking?
“Doll, I want you to be my baby for more than just a few days. Would you give me that honor? Would you let me be your daddy for real?”
“Daddy, are you sure?” she nervously bit her lip.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything more.” Bucky promised.
She nodded frantically, afraid the offer might disappear if she took too long to respond, “yes.”
“Thank you, doll.” Bucky breathed as he pulled her to him, strong arms engulfing her in a protective hug.
“Daddy will not regret it later?” her eyes watched him, a small hint of doubt still tainting her trust.
“Do you like the moon, doll?”
“Yes.” She tilted her head, not understanding the relation between her question and Bucky’s answer.
“You know how our sky only has one moon?”
She nodded.
“My heart is just like that. It can only have one doll no matter how much time passes.”
“Oh.” She sniffled, trying to hold the tears in.
“I love you, doll.” Bucky gave her hair a long kiss.
“I love you, daddy.” She kissed his chest, her arms tightening their hold around him as best as she could, never wanting to be away from him again.
And she wasn’t going to be. Bucky was an idiot who let her go once; never again was he going to make that mistake.
He was blessed with her now and he was going to spend every day of his life proving he was worthy of this blessing.
~
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jayflrt · 2 days
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𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝟕𝟖𝟔 20. and there was one bed
content warnings: drinking, jay fucks himself LOL and he lowkey has a sir kink
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JAY FELT YOUR SHALLOW BREATHING AGAINST HIS NECK BEFORE HE EVEN NOTICED THE ACHE SETTLE IN HIS BONES.
He hardly recollected anything from last night, but he wasn't quite sure how he ended up with his limbs entangled with yours. Not only were you impossibly close and left hardly any room for Jay to think rationally, but your thigh was dangerously close to where his hard-on was tight against his jeans.
He swallowed thickly. Your face was tucked into the crook of his neck, his arms were wrapped tightly around you, and if he moved even a little, your soft lips were against his skin. One of his hands was holding the small of your back, pressing your body against his, and oh, this was dangerous territory.
This was all his fault, of course. Jay was confident this wouldn't have happened if he had been in full control of his actions; he shouldn't have let himself drink so much. It was just that he was having too much fun, getting ahead of himself, and now he had royally fucked up.
You were his assignment.
You were the one he was supposed to investigate.
Carefully, he pried your limbs off of him, making sure your breath steadied and that you were still asleep before he slipped off. He made a beeline for the bathroom, immediately gripping the sides of the sink and letting his head hang.
Finally, he could breathe normally.
When he looked in the mirror again, his cheeks were burning with shame. An ugly part of him just wanted to get rid of the agonizing stiffness, and he was quickly caving to that desire.
Thank you, Sir.
You said it plenty of times these past few days—as a joke, obviously—but Jay couldn't help but feel so bothered over it. It was stuck in his head all the time, the words ghosting across his skin like a feather and making his nerve endings feel as if they were on fire.
He screwed his eyes shut. You can't, he thought (and his inner voice sounded rather desperate). She's your assignment. She's the person you've been targeting for months. You can't do this.
But this one time would just have to do because Jay wasn't sure how he'd be able to walk out and face you if he didn't relieve himself now.
"I always forget you're so easy to talk to," you said during the hike yesterday, hands on your hips as you tried to catch your breath in the middle of the trail.
He unbuttoned his jeans in a fumbling motion, pushing them down his thighs so that the head of his cock was showing past the waistband of his boxers. Jay's breath hitched as he reached down and grabbed ahold of his shaft.
"There's so many people around me that feel like... they only care about me because of my family—I don't know." He remembered the uncertainty in your voice back then, and the way you nearly smiled before catching yourself.
There was a hot rush under his skin. Jay felt his knees nearly buckle as soon as he gave his shaft a few experimental strokes.
"I feel like you just see me for me."
Biting down hard on his lower lip, Jay jerked himself off with your face in mind, and it made him feel sick. He didn't want you to go home. He didn't want you to leave. In the seconds he was chasing pleasure, he could admit to himself that he just wanted to go back to his bed and wrap his arms around you again.
"Oh, my shoe's untied," you said, absentmindedly. Jay knelt down before you back then, and as he recalled the memory, his eyes went foggy with lust and he pumped his cock even faster. His breathing got harder. His senses clouded. The building pressure was almost unbearable. "Thank you, Sir."
He came into a tissue that he managed to grab just before he fell apart. Even then, his cum had gotten all over his hands, and he could only stare at it blankly afterward. He was sick. He was filthy. How could he even do something this dirty to the thought of you? Then, he cleaned up the mess and rinsed his hands under hot water, his staggering intakes of breath keeping him from collapsing backward.
Never again. Jay knew in his heart that he could never be with you, and he was a fool for even giving in to his carnal desires like this.
The gentle knock at his bathroom door nearly made his skin crawl. "Jay?" you called out, sleep dragging out your words. "Are you in there?"
"Yeah, I'll be out in a minute," he got out quickly.
I feel like you just see me for me.
Maybe in some alternate reality out there, you and Jay had the world at your disposal—free to be together however you'd like. In this reality, however, he couldn't see any possible way to pursue you that didn't end in heartbreak. It was easier this way; to break his heart on his own before he even let you hold it.
i hit the image limit and can't add a proper divider
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SUMMARY ▸ private investigator jay park just wants to complete his mission quietly and move on with his life. you, his new assignment who keeps consuming his thoughts, don't make that very easy for him.
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lilislegacy · 2 days
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i love how in heroes of olympus, there’s a boat full of couples (+leo☺️). and yet even if you didn’t know when each couple started dating, it’s so blatantly obvious that percy and annabeth have been together the longest, and are the most serious
cause frank and hazel are still pretty nervous/unsure with each other. they JUST started dating, and are so pure and adorable. they just haven’t quite figured out the romance part yet
and jason and piper have their moments, but they’re just so… distant. like not physically, of course, but they just don’t really seem to connect on a deep level. and they aren’t super affectionate, at least not physically or openly. piper is constantly unsure about where they’re at, and while jason has thoughts about how great piper is, he doesn’t openly show his feelings too often.
but percabeth? they’re the oldest in age (physically), have known each other the longest, and have been romantically committed to each other for the most time. they act like they’ve been together for eternity, which is funny since they were technically only dating for 4 months before percy got abducted. but they just have such a deep history together and such an intense connection. they’re in it for the long run. there’s no doubt or uncertainty - and it shows. like…annabeth is so wife girlfriend. there are so many funny/cute little moments, like her scolding him for putting too much syrup on his pancakes, and telling him to take a shower when he smells bad. and when percy suggests him and jason should go on a dangerous quest instead of annabeth and piper, instead of being like “omg he cares so much about me😍” (which hazel and piper would have done) annabeth is like “what seaweed brain?? you think two guys can do better than two girls??” and percy is immediately like “uh uh NO nope i definitely do NOT think that!!” he knows better. the immediate fear is so husband boyfriend of him. they simultaneously have the most disagreements (remember when percy called annabeth out when she thought she should navigate through rome alone, and basically called her stupid for thinking it was a good idea, and then they argued and had a face-off, which percy won) - while also being the most lovey dovey (they’re constantly putting their hands on each other - annabeth putting her hand on his chest to calm him down, putting their hands on each other’s arms for support, percy having his arm around her when they’re at the edge of the ship, always giving each other a kiss on the mouth or the cheek when they separate, etc). and they have no issues sneaking off in the middle of the night to do some talking and kissing. and quite frankly, making out in front of piper in BoO (remember that? when piper got super uncomfortable at how long their kiss was lasting, and then annabeth let out, and i quote, “grunt-whimpers”). they are just so natural and comfortable with each other. piper says it herself.
i just think it’s so funny. little frazel being adorable and blushing when they hold hands, jiper is happy to be dating but they’re also a little angsty and uncertain, and then there’s percabeth just being the old married couple they are. (and leo is being cute and fixing stuff)
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merakiui · 2 days
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idol!floyd with parasocial fan darling….imagine the plot twist when you break into idol!floyd’s penthouse and you find a room with your pictures plastered all over the wall
:O you’re either so flattered and honored to know your idol would ever bother to pay attention to a nobody fan such as yourself, or seeing photos of yourself (most of them taken in secret and from afar) causes you to falter in your parasocial adoration and now you’re just really uneasy. To think your idol, the one you have supported and loved for so long, has been watching you all this time… he has pictures of you from so many intimate moments. Photos of you standing in your pajamas at your window, parting the curtains to let in light. Photos of you making the commute to work. Photos of you running errands. Even a photo of you sleeping!
You suppose because he’s an idol he can get away with anything. Maybe that’s why you never seemed to notice the eyes or the sneaking suspicion that someone else had been in your home at one point. The details were so minor you hardly paid them any mind, chalking most of them up to your own clumsy forgetfulness, but now it makes sense. The pre-made meals packed away in the fridge—meals you couldn’t remember if you had prepared the night prior—were all his doing. The way your bed seemed to be just a little more wrinkled than before—he had slept in it when you were out. The fact that you always seemed to lose clothes, especially undergarments… He took them.
There’s a hand on your shoulder, shaking you from the dawning shock. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is. Floyd is very pleased when he pulls you against his chest, holding you close. You can’t run. Not that you have any intentions to do so. “Welcome home, li’l Shrimpy,” he hums, delighted. “Was startin’ to wonder if I should just leave a key at your place. Took you forever to finally make it home.”
But you’re here now, and he can’t wait to finally share his life with you. :) surely you feel the same? You did say you loved him. Sure, you’re in love with the idol version of himself, but he’s certain you’ll love the real him beneath all of the glitz and glamour. You’ll have no choice either way.
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highladyandromeda · 2 days
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Shadows of the Heart
Part 3
Azriel x Fem!Reader
Summary: After years apart, Y/n returns to Velaris, bearing the weight of sacrifice and secrets from her past. Reunited with Rhysand and his Inner Circle, she navigates the complexities of rekindled friendships and unresolved tensions. 
WC: 1.2k
Warnings: n/a
[Prologue], [Part 1], [Part 2]
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She was going to need a very strong drink, Y/n mused, to survive this night. 
Her magic, ever attuned to the world around her, picked up on the increasing hum of conversation from the floors below—a sure sign that Rhysand had summoned his entire family for a grand welcome. "He's always had a penchant for gatherings," she reflected with a half-smile, tinged with nostalgia, before an exasperated roll of her eyes. The temptation of the room's plush bed and soft sheets beckoned, threatening to pull her back into their embrace. It's almost unfair, she thought, how much more inviting the beds were here.
Pushing aside thoughts of luxurious linens, Y/n rises, confronting her reflection in the mirror. Her body still appears gaunt, her complexion a touch too pallid, yet there's a hint of vitality returning to her cheeks, thanks in part to the subtle touch of rouge she's applied. With practiced movements, she adds a dusty rose hue to her lips and frames her striking scarlet eyes with kohl, each stroke of makeup bolstering her confidence.
Her wardrobe, courtesy of Rhys, offers a variety of choices. From it, she selects a burgundy tunic adorned with intricate gold embroidery at the collar and sleeves and matching pants—a nod to her past, the garments echoing the color of her old robes and providing an unexpected solace. She tries not to think deeply about the cobalt blue dresses that called to her instead, remembering that she cannot stay in Velaris for long. 
“And the guest of honor arrives!” Rhys’s voice cuts through the lively chatter as he spots Y/n making her entrance. Mor quickly springs into action, her enthusiasm undiminished as she loops an arm around Y/n’s, escorting her to a prominent seat at the table—directly across from—
“Lucien?”
“Y/n?”
The recognition between them sparks instantly, lighting up the room. “Mother above, Lucien! You’re alive!” Y/n couldn't help but exclaim, her surprise propelling her forward to clasp his hand across the table.
Lucien, taken aback by the fervor of her greeting, blinks in confusion. “I—uh, was there a reason you thought I wasn’t?”
Y/n's smile wavers, her impulsive action catching up with her fatigue. “Ah, well, I just, I uh—” She scrambles for an explanation that wouldn’t reveal too much. 
Y/n thought fast, there was no way she could announce that the Prince of Vallahan once received a summons to funerals in Autumn, personally signed by Beron, and had tried to invite her. She always assumed that Eris would protect Lucien but after so many years, it was impossible for her to be sure. 
“I heard rumors,” she finally said, settling on the vaguest of truths. The answer, unsatisfying and ripe with unasked questions, hovered in the air. Yet, she offered nothing more, only adding, “I’m glad to see you, though.”
“Likewise,” he responded, a warmth returning to his voice. “I’m sure Nuan will be thrilled to know you’re back.” An unspoken glance passed between them, with the promise to catch up later.
It was Nesta who broke the silence, her voice cutting through the tension with a clear, measured tone. "You two know each other well?" Nesta queried, her eyes darting between Y/n and Lucien.
Rhys, seizing the moment to alleviate the growing tension, clapped his hands together with a flourish.
 "Well, Y/n's always had the most elusive of friendships.” he declared, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Let's celebrate reunions and new beginnings. To Y/n's return, and unexpected friends among us."
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As the evening unfolded, Y/n found herself enveloped in the whirlwind of introductions and reunions. She sat in between Rhys and Mor and was properly introduced to the rest of them, Amren and Nesta’s sharp eyes causing the smallest tinge of discomfort before she was pulled into stories from Feyre and Cassian, her heart aching as they recounted the past years from under the mountain to the war with Hybern. 
Azriel and as Y/n learned that night, Elain, stayed quiet, but that was a bit of a reprieve truly, among the strong spirits and personalities of the others. It was overwhelming to keep track of their enthusiasm, but Y/n didn’t let her exhaustion show. She had already slept for so long and she refused to let Rhys’s efforts go to waste, as she knew it was his way of showing her that she was still a part of his family. 
Besides, although they were all excited, no one brought up her blood magic, or how exactly she and Mor ended up together, or worse, what she had been up to in her years away. She assumed they’d either been placated by a brief explanation from Mor or been warned off by either her or Rhys, allowing Y/n to enjoy a peaceful night before an onslaught of questions at another time. Judging by Amren’s, Nesta’s, and even Azriel’s stares burning into her, she could feel that it must have been the latter and that their self-control would only last so far. 
She hoped they’d stay quiet for now, as she had no interest or energy to untangle the complicated…adventures of her past centuries. Especially with the joy and shock she felt when Rhys told her of Nyx and of the Trove. She’d never admit it out loud, but the joy gave away to such deep despair; of having missed these monumental moments in her dear friend’s life. Rhysand truly was the brother she never had, and although she was overjoyed that he’d found so many people to love who loved him back, she couldn’t help but feel sorrow for what was no longer hers. 
Luckily, she was quickly pulled from those thoughts as small wisps of the night curled around her shoulder, the shadows' cooling touch almost seeming to comfort her. She noticed Azriel's subtle attempts to rein them in, a hint of embarrassment in his demeanor.
"Please, don't bother. I quite enjoy their company," Y/n reassured him softly, her words drawing a rare, soft grin from the shadowsinger, catching Cassian’s attention.
Smiling mischievously, Cassian takes the chance to ask Y/n about her recovery and whether she’d be up to join them in training tomorrow morning, dodging the glare Rhys sent his way. 
Y/n couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up at Cassian's invitation, a lightness filling her despite the whirlwind of emotions she'd been navigating. 
"I suppose I could use a bit of... physical activity," she conceded, her gaze flickering to Azriel, whose shadows seemed to dance with approval at the prospect. "Though I must warn you, I'm a bit out of practice."
Cassian's grin widened, his eyes alight with the challenge. "Out of practice, she says. We'll be the judge of that. Right, Az?"
Azriel merely nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement, clearly intrigued by the idea of Y/n joining their morning routines.
Rhys, though he had initially sent Cassian a glare for his untimely proposal, couldn't mask the warmth in his eyes. "It's settled then. Training at dawn. But let's not forget, Y/n has had quite a journey back to us. We'll take it easy," he added, a protective note in his voice that didn't go unnoticed.
As the evening drew to a close, Y/n felt a sense of comfort she had been missing since she left. Though she knew she couldn’t stay forever, her heart felt lighter than it had been in ages. With promises of tomorrow's training session hanging in the air, Y/n retired to her room, the night's whispers a comforting lullaby.
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A/N: Ok, I promise that the next chapters will have more Azriel and reader interactions, especially with the upcoming training session!! Also, I want to explore a reader and Lucien friendship because I think that he's so underrated when in fact, Lucien has such interesting powers and is so well-traveled. For my tag list, I tagged everyone who asked and those who commented on the first 2 parts. If you'd like to be included, please just let me know. 💕
TAGLIST: @strangelygreat @enfppuff @trip-n-sal @inloveallthetime @annamariereads16 @mybestfriendmademe @mariahoedt @annblvd @ania-swissweet @yearninglustfully @sleepylunarwolf @quiettuba @gorlillaglue25 @lilah-asteria @naturakaashi @sillymercury @itsswritten @xlosttdreamss @kennedy-brooke @xyzmeh @lucky7rosie @copenhagenspirit @collide-with-the-music @starsinyourseyes @dianxiaxiexie @maybefoxysouls @golden-canyon @violet-potter
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lustlovehart · 2 days
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Hiii! I've never done this before but... What if Scara and reader had a fight... Like a fight fight... and reader was seriously injured due to him being blinded be emotions... What do you think would the aftermath of this...?
A/n: Yet again, another ask that i was originally gonna js give a short thought to, turned into something longer *sigh* (I need to stop doing this).
Summary: [Angst/Comfort]He could never say sorry, even in the moments it mattered.
Warnings: Harm to reader, Scars, Unrealistic Writing of getting hit with lightning,
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———
During his time in the fatui, no one exactly had the galls of stopping his rampages. The balladeer is quite famed for his regular intervals of anger, you’re no stranger to it yourself, you’ve seen him mad. it’s just…
Hes never been angry towards you.
You’d get the occasionally scoff every now and then if you uttered something he found foolish, but never has he lashed out at you to such a degree. Not to this level. He’s painfully reminded by his ignorance as soon as his hand crafted eyes lay sight upon your bare form, a body, a human body, covered in scars from lightning. Lightning he inherited, lightning he engaged, lightning he struck you with.
There’s no doubt, the silence is defecating while you sit with him in the empty room, waiting for one of the medical professionals in the fatui to check on you.
He’s silent. It’s rare. He’s never been quiet for more than 5 minutes with you. He’s either complaining or attempting to make small talk a vast majority of the time, typically the former. But he doesn’t, he doesn’t even stare at you like he always does. You’re about to break the silence before the harbinger breaks it for you.
“You don’t look okay.” He doesn’t look at you, his vision trained on the white tile at his feet.
“Yeah. you struck me with lightning.”
“oh.”
It doesn’t hit you until he releases a quiet ‘oh’ from his mouth. Something you probably know better than anyone else that has been on teyvat within his 500 year lifespan.
This man can not say sorry.
“oh? Oh? Kunikuzushi put your pride away for one second.” you don’t try to hide the frustration in your voice. You truly did not mind the eccentricities the puppet in front of you holds, you never did, not even when you first met him.
He still doesn’t answer but you can see the way his face winces and widens in the same moment. Seems he got way too accustomed to ‘Kuni’ and ‘Scara’ to remember that you do in fact remember his given name.
“What else should I say to you? I’ll strike harder next time?” He isn’t getting mad, he was only infuriated earlier, but not now. You can see his demeanor start changing. Whether it be in the direction you want it to go, you’re not sure yet.
“Maybe a sorry? An apology? A “oh forgive me [Name] I love you so much?” He doesn’t answer you, he only scoffs and fall back onto the back of his chair. You don’t miss the way his fingers dig into the cloth of his clothing, probably using it as a replacement for human skin.
The man can’t breathe, but you can hear him inhale and exhale before his next words.
“i don’t know what happened. I didn’t mean to- well not at you.” It comes out softer than the other words hes said to you the entire period of time in the room. His eyes are finally off the floor, trying their best to maintain contact with your own.
Once again, all thats left between the space of you two, is silence. You look away from him for a moment, fiddling with the blanket draped over your legs. You’d like to assume that’s the closest you’ll get to an ‘I’m sorry from him’, but you can’t accept that, so you don’t reply. Ever since waking up, you never were able to see the scars on your body, only the ones on your arms. You wonder if they look hideous.
Your hand reaches behind you to your back, your fingers grazing whatever part you assume suffers scarring.
“Are you worried about how it looks?”
“No, not at all, fighting is commonplace in the fatui.”
“Lying isn’t good, you told me that yourself didn’t you?” Damn him and his pristine memory. You can never remember where you leave your keys yet he can remember things you’ve said to him years ago?
“No matter how scarred and beaten you are you’re still [Name] are you not?” With the way he’s looking at you, you’re sure this is another thing he’d want to keep out of the publics knowledge. “Even without your face i’d strike someone down for you in an instant.”
“Oh like you did to me?”
“…” Seems the sweet moment was ruined. You don’t mind though, it’s funny to you.
———
The weeks that followed still held some tension. You’d refused to see him for awhile. When asked by some trembling lower subordinate, one in which the harbinger had personally sent, why you weren’t seeing him, your reply made the soldier fear for his own downfall.
“He’s insufferable right now. I’ll talk to him when he shows me he’s not a man child who can’t admit his faults.” You’ve always been able to put up with his outbursts, but right now, you realize maybe you should turn up your attitude with him.
After that unfortunate event, not unfortunate for you, for the fatuss, your days have seemingly been more dull. You’ve forgotten just how eccentric the balladeer is. Waking up never seemed so boring, the puppet would either be by your side in the early mornings, or knocking on the door ready to whisk you away.
Seems that routine is coming back.
“Oh? Have you finally swallowed your ego-“
“I’m sorry.”
Seems he couldn’t go any longer without you, how sweet.
———
Tagging this, I was super confused if this could be characterized as angst w/ comfort or fluff. I just did both though.
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sunflower-lilac42 · 2 days
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✧ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐎𝐮𝐭 | trevor zegras ♔
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summary: when the news is out between trevor and jack's sister, things take a turn for the worse.
warnings: media, being exposed
notes: two fics in one day? one week? I'm a changed person. this is very based off of red, white and royal blue because i love that movie with my whole soul. it's so good, i highly recommend it. anyway, this is it for the fics i had planned so I'm going to focus on my three au's for the rest of the week but if another fic comes out don't be surprised. let me know if you want a part two because i would be glad to write it | add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!
nhl masterlist | main masterlist
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Nothing was how it should be. They were supposed to be careful, they were careful. They were only seen together when it would make sense for them to be together; when he was in town for a game, when he was supposed to be hanging out with her brothers, or when he had a game against the Devils or the Canucks. And when they were seen together, they made sure everything was strictly platonic, no hand touches, no stolen glances, no nothing.
However, maybe they should’ve accounted for the fact that one, her friends were journalists, and two, her friends weren’t really her friends in the first place. They had a few classes together in college, back when she was still undecided, but despite that? They only found her interesting because of her last name and who shared it.
Somehow she was too predictable, her password was as basic as it got. It was the day Trevor asked her to be his girlfriend, they’re anniversary. It was the best day of both of their lives but now it was the root of all their problems. It wasn’t the biggest scandal on the dance floor, there were things much worse going on in the NHL and the world in general. No one would care about this besides the Zegras and the Hughes families and the girls who were too obsessed with hockey players and their relationships for their own good.
She was studying abroad in England this past year and she couldn’t help but fall in love with it. She had decided to extend her stay into the fall semester, not wanting to go back home. This sort of worked in her favor, she was 3,444 miles from Jack and Luke and 4,632 miles from Quinn. She was in a different time zone, country, and continent than them. All she had to do to avoid them was not answer her phone. 
She was good at that, blocking out social media and her phone as a whole. Growing up the sister of hockey players and her mom being who she was in the hockey world, she got used to the hate and backlash she got from not wanting to do hockey. Her phone was shut off and thrown into her desk drawer. Her friends tried to comfort her but were to no avail, she was too worried about what other people thought about it.
Not only had pictures of them been put out into the world but their text messages as well. However, she couldn’t remember a time she left her phone unattended. She hadn’t spoken to Trevor in two weeks, she hadn’t spoken to anybody besides her roommates in two weeks. She had seen a couple of articles and videos that were spreading, the one of Trevor’s interviews where he was addressing the situation was not only the biggest one but the most recent one. 
It was before the game, that the reporter had asked him about how everything in the media that was speculating had impacted him and his play. To which he responded with, “Y/n and I are together and have been since the beginning of the season. And whether people choose to support or hate it, isn’t my problem nor my business. We’re happy and hope everyone can support that decision and respect our privacy. I fell in love with a girl who happens to be related to my best friend. How is this affecting my mindset? I wouldn’t say it has, I’m still planning, and Greg still thinks I’m playing as best as I can and even better. I’m worried about her, that’s for sure. She hasn’t had the best track record with the media.”
He said a few more words, none of which mattered to y/n. She wasn’t sure if she cried more because of what he said or the situation. She curled up on the chair in the corner of the room, reading a book. Her friends looked at her sadly, they hated the fact that she had gone back to her reserved nature. 
Trevor on the other hand was acting like it wasn’t bothering him, he couldn’t hide himself from the media or anything really like she could. But, it was eating him alive. He didn’t know if she was okay or if something had happened or if she was ignoring him. He was too desperate to know if he was okay so he attempted to reach out to all three of her brothers but he got nothing back in return.
It wasn’t until Mason walked into his room with his phone in hand, “I called her friend for you.”
Trevor looked at him with wide eyes, “What?”
“Thank me later.”
Her friend had been walking up the stairs to their apartment when she got the call from Mason, they had met when y/n and Trevor took them along on a trip to ensure that no rumors would start. She had practically run the rest of the way and bolted into the apartment. She walked over to y/n and handed her the phone.
She reached out for it and held it up to her ear, “Hello?”
“Baby!” 
Her voice stuck in her throat along with the sob that had been forming for a while. “Trevor? Oh my god, are you alright?”
“I’m hanging in there. Are you okay?”
She paused, “No. No, I’m not okay.”
“You know what, I’m coming to London tonight. Just hold on until I get there.”
“Hurry please.”
And just as he promised, 8 hours later he was standing in her apartment, opening his arms for her. She ran into them once she heard him call out and buried her head into his chest. Trevor sunk to the floor with her, his back pressed up against the wall, “It’s okay. I’m here. I got you.”
He could feel her body racked with sobs and he couldn’t help but start crying himself. He had torn himself apart these past two weeks as he waited to hear from her and knowing how much she had been in pain had hurt him. He picked her up soon after and carried her to the bedroom, laying her down on the bed. He crawled in next to her and wrapped his arms around her once more.
“Have you heard from your brothers yet?”
“Not a word. Not that I have checked my phone since the article came out.”
He frowned at her, tightening his hold, “Sometimes I wonder if part of their acceptance is just to forget it ever happened in the first place.”
This made him laugh a little as he pulled back to look at her. He moved the piece of hair that had fallen in her face behind her ear. His face changed when he realized that her small smile had turned back into a frown, “I feel so lost. They used to adore me, used to protect me, but now. It feels like they just wish I never existed.”
“Hey, they still love you.” She just blinked at him, “I’m sure if you looked at your phone they would just be wondering if you were okay.”
“I liked your speech, it was very put together.”
He smiled at her, “It made me very proud to be your girlfriend.”
“Hey, I’m always proud to be your boyfriend.”
She giggled and kissed his cheek, “You know what I mean you dork.”
“Speaking of boyfriends and girlfriends. Did you know Mason and Lia were dating?”
She perked up, “No! When did that happen?”
“Apparently-”
“Hey.”
The two turned and looked at Lia, “What’s up?”
“Your brothers are here.”
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𝑴𝑰𝑺𝑪𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑬𝑶𝑼𝑺 𝑷𝑳𝑨𝒀𝑬𝑹 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
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dreamauri · 1 day
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┇𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗥𝗢𝗖𝗞 - part four ┇︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶ ┇this is what they call: puppy love.  ┇︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦˚₊   ┇ . 🌿 :: pairing — ( max vertsappen  x  fem! reader ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠genre — ( fluff )  ┇ . 🌿 :: ⁠word count — ( - ) ╰  🫧 :: ⁠ content warning — ( google translated spanish )
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( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous | next )
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Y/N Gemazi-L/N chats with Martin Brundle on his DREAM F1 debut 🔴🎂
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"One more lap, tsunoda ahead in p10. push for q3." "heard." You mumbled back on the radio, preparing for one more qualifying lap to be a part f the top ten. You've never raced in jeddah before as it was one of the newer circuits and you'd long left formula 2 by then.
But the track wasn't too difficult to figure out. Sure the track is challenging, especially since FP3 wasn't enough to learn the car and that you still indeed are learning the track. Qualifying laps were ok, no real battles yet, just against the clock which gave you peace of mind.
The sim helped a little, not as much as the fact that you'd be teammates with charles again or the fact that Lando has a good car and would be near you throughout the race, battening you or not. On top of that, the only reason you're going through with the race (like you had a choice anyways) is max.
You'd subconsciously called Max after Fred Vasseur broke the news to you, making him the first person to know and the first person so far this half weekend to give you real tips and advice about the circuit, going as far as staying up with you the other night after inviting you to his room to practice on his sim.
"Well done, Y/N, that is P9. P9." You heard your race engineer beep in your ears as you crossed the finish line. "WO! Q3!" "Line up so far is: verstappen, leclerc, alonso, piastri, russel, perez, norris, tsunoda, you, stroll." "Tsunoda? I thought he P10? Did i not knock him out?" "No, that was—" "Oh my god, it's john wick." you gasped once realizing. "Who?" "I eliminated lewis, didn't i?" "Confirmed. Yes." "Oh my god."
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
“Hello, Y/N.” You smiled, giving a nod to return the greeting. “You’ve had an amazing debut thus far. How are you feeling?” You laughed, shrugging. “I woke up this morning thinking I’d be chillaxing back in the hospitality and drinking barbican while watching the red cars. Never expected that I’d be in one of the cars. But uh, we had a good qualifying. Q3 is good for the team and hopefully, we’ll have a good pace tomorrow.”
“It is a very remarkable debut,” “It is.” You agreed nodding, brushing your hair back. “I mean, I knew I’d be driving an F1 car at some point or another. I’m glad it was a night race. I’ll do my best to seize the moment and maximize the opportunity,” you quote, joking, making the interviewer laugh. “And we’ll see where tomorrow takes us.” “Very nice, Y/N.” “Thank you-” looked back, feeling someone put a hand on your shoulder.
Max could visibly see you relax upon realizing it was him. He found the smile that rose on your face too cute. “Q3, I taught her.” He joked, making you laugh. “Which position?” “P6.” Max made an impressed face nodding. “Hands off my teammate.” Charles shooed Max, pushing him away. You watched, trying to hold in your laugh.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
“There was something in the air that night, the stars so bright, fernando.” You sang as you hugged the spaniard. “youre going to sing that every time you see me." He laughed, hugging you back and patting your back. “its tradition." You reminded him as the two of you pulled away. He ruffled your hair, cupping the back of your head. “P6?” He asked, smiling. You shrugged, smiling. “just stay behind me." “very funny, nando."
You waved him goodbye as bid a farewell, going to his car. You unlocked your phone as you walked the other way, scrolling through your contacts as you looked around, searching for a certain honda. You don’t remember the license plate so finding your ride back was difficult, especially since there were so many cars in a lot of colors and expensive models.
‘Where are you?’ You send the text message, looking around the parking lot. You were answered with a light flicker. Max’s car wasn’t too far, he’d turned his lights on and off as a signal for you. He wasn’t too far, so you made a jog for it, opening the car door and getting in the passenger seat, and placing your backpack between your feet. 
Max started the car, pulling out of the parking lot. Since you accidentally spent the night at his, and the two of you were already staying at the same hotel and you didn’t rent a car out for the weekend, Max figured: why not carpool? “Seat Belt.” the blond reminded you as the car neared the exit of the parking lot. You did catch what he said, distracted by looking out at the other driver’s who were finding their own cars.
“hm?” instead of repeating himself, max reached and buckled you up himself, smoothly merging into traffic, using blinkers and abiding the laws. You blushed, leaning your elbow on the door and watching him out of the corner of your eyes. It was a long day and you were tired. Still jet lagged, you made the mistake of waking up early to venture around unknowing that you'd be driving twice. And now that the main anxiety drilling events were over, the sleep and rest you needed was catching up to you.
Max lowered the music from the radio once he noticed your low energy and slow blinking. He'd been taking glances in your direction, keeping track of you slowly dozing off. When he parked the car at the hotel, you were totally asleep. It took max a few seconds of theorizing on what to do next before going into action.
He didn’t want to wake you up, so with two backpacks on, he managed to get you up on your feet so he could carry you. You were only half asleep when he gently and slowly opened the door, catching your elbow so you don't fall. with half opened eyes, you looked at him confused as he pulled your backpack on before unbuckling your seat.
You let him hold your hands and help you get out, before gently wrapping your arms around his neck and lifting you up into his chest. He kicked the door shut before carrying you away. You leaned your head on his shoulder falling back into slumberland. 
it was a shame you weren't awake to witness the journey up to his room. Max had somehow signaled a staff worker over, making him take out the wallet from his back pocket and unlock the entrance from the garage to the building, and once again to unlock the door to his room.
The truly memorable part was when Max set you on his bed. After taking your shoes off and covering you with the blanket, the dutch gently brushed your hair in a ponytail he found in your bag. When he tried to pull away, to get himself asleep on the couch, you'd held his hand in your sleep.
Max felt like he was frozen in place as if one of his cats fell asleep on him and he couldn't move so as to not wake them up. He knelt down on the floor, brushing his thumb against your cheek where you held his hand. You looked so peaceful and adorable that it took Max around 10 minutes of contemplation before slipping in bed with you where you welcomed him by hugging him and clinging onto him.
The smile and blush that covered his cheeks as he hugged and cuddled you back, stayed on his face through the night. The best sleep he's ever had.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
“The nostalgia,”  “It's like a copy paste.” the two commentators laughed. “Just look at her driving style as well, she's aggressive but not over the line, shouting" I'm here, I'm going to overtake, and you can’t do anything about it.” Their explanation was on point. You got straight to the point. You caught up, intimidated, saw a gap and went for it. P6 to P3 with a good chunk of the race left. Max and Charles were ahead by a few points and it took you a few laps to catch up. Staying behind the fellow ferrari, you stayed on his tail within a half second distance.
Once you took corner #27 and the DRS was applicable, You were past Charles and chasing Max in the red bull.
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Post dive bombing max into turn one, and over taking him, you lead a difficult 4 laps where the dutch was breathing down your neck. You genuinely felt scared because he was in your mirrors the whole time, like playing tag with an adult and they laugh evilly which makes it feel real and you start screaming and actually running for your life.
Max did eventually take his P1 back and you stayed behind him. Unfortunately, under team orders, you had to switch with Charles and give him the P2 once he caught up. You looked up once someone came up from behind you, patting your back. “Rickey, when I catch you, rickey.” You laughed as you took your helmet off, watching Max go off for his post race interview. “Nice driving,” You turned, smiling at Charles and returning the fistbump. “Nice breaking.” you returned the compliment.
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not two steps in the room and max had cupped his hand under your chin and pulled you in a for a kiss. You were defiantly suppressed, not getting the chance to at least find the light switch or put the trophy down somewhere. You kissed back eagerly, a small hum leaving your throat as the two of you made out.
Max must have been continuing where you left off in the morning with how hungry and eager he seemed. Since waking up tangled in each other, the moment led to a kiss and another and another. You never realised how attracted you were to max, how he made you feel.
Dropping your bag, you used your free hand tp tangle your fingers in the hair at his nape, letting him tilt your head with the grip he hand on your chin to deepen the kiss. "I've been waiting all day." he mumbled before leaning in for another kiss.
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sc0tters · 2 days
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Dreams Come True | Trevor Zegras
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summary: Trevor shows you just how competitive he can get when you get cozy with Jack
request: yes/no
warnings: sexual themes, p in v, oral (fem receiving), light bondage, swearing.
word count: 4.75k
authors note: it’s the way that the last time I wrote for him was in part one… so it was safe to say I was a little rusty with Trevor and natural sought the help of the woman who writes him better than anyone else @sweetestdesire so let’s thank her both helping this fic and inspiring portions of it! I’m starting to behave with my endings, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still have my fun 😏
pt 1
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Trevor was pissed off.
He had won a massive game against the devils and all he was meant to do was come home and celebrate. The boy had invited you along to the game and you were meant to be his guest, yet somehow you were in the flurry of red.
Sure Trevor knew Jack was disappointed after the game but you were meant to be congratulating him for winning. Not standing hugging Jack as you told him how proud you were of his effort. You had always had a soft spot for the boy feeling bad for him after the rough rookie season he had.
Yet none of that seemed to matter as Trevor glared at the Hughes boy when you laughed at one of his jokes, because what could have been that funny? Jack eventually noticed the sharp looks that were being sent his way “something happen between you and Z?” He furrowed his eyebrows motioning to the boy who was still staring at you both.
It made you frown as you locked eyes with Trevor “nothing has happened.” Your cheeks grew warm remembering how you woke up to him after your wet dream “you sure?” Jack teased remembering how you used to have a crush on Trevor when you guys were kids.
It made you scoff as you sent him a playful glare “Jack I think I would know if something happened to me.” You shot back letting out a giggle as the boy pulled you into a hug “just making sure you’re keeping me in the loop.” He mumbled kissing your head in the process.
The middle Hughes boy always did have a soft spot for you “kid we are going now.” Trevor’s announced causing your head to snap in his direction “talk soon?” You asked looking at the younger boy who nodded with a smile.
He squeezed your side “keep him out of trouble.” Jack teased you causing a giggle to erupt from your lips “you want to go or get a cab?” Trevor’s rolled his eyes at the joke reminding you that he was waiting.
That was all it took for you to leave the Hughes boy “c’mon don’t be too grumpy with me now.” You joked growing concerned as he stood there refusing to look at you “what makes you think I’m grumpy?”Trevor grumbled as he still made sure to open the door to let you out first.
Yet you stood there solid as you crossed your arms “tell me why you’re irritated and then we can go.” You shot back causing a smirk to form on his face “I just think if you want to go support him then you should be wearing red.” Trevor looked to your jersey as you were in one of his old ones.
Your hands fixed the front of it as you furrowed your eyebrows “I was just being a good friend to Jack.” You pointed out in a duh tone “look let’s just go home.” Trevor’s sighed as he wiped his palms on his shorts.
It felt like a game of back and forth as you didn’t want to concede first “fucking move before I throw you over my shoulder.” The boy warned as he took a step closer to you “you wouldn’t dare.” You shook your head not believing that he had it in him.
But of course that was your first mistake. Within seconds Trevor crouched down and wrapped his arms around your hips lifting you up over his shoulder “Trevor!” You squealed clenching your fists as you banged them against his back “warned ya.” He shrugged with a smirk as the feeling of your hands against his back was nothing.
He carried you to the car with little debate “can you put me down?” You huffed finally giving up as you just let him carry you “you finally going to stop being a brat?” He cocked his head dropping your feet when he got to his car.
It made a smile form on your lips “never.” You felt his hands slide to your shoulders as he stepped closer to you “you’re a little shit you know that right?” He clicked his tongue trying to act irritated.
A laugh left your lips as you nodded “but that’s why you love me ain’t it?” You cocked your head as he sighed “just get in please.” His voice was softer as his facial expressions grew gentle.
This time you instead opted to listen “okay.” You nodded causing him to let out a sigh of relief as he wasn’t going to have to fight you on it “please remind me why I am best friends with her brother.” Trevor’s mumbled to himself once he shut your sides car door.
The ride back to his place was awkward. You kept your eyes glued to the window beside you as it seemed Trevor still didn’t want to talk about what pissed him off “Z?” Your voice was barely above a whisper when you heard him turn the key shutting the ignition off.
He felt guilty picturing you moaning that on his couch when you had that dream. It was something neither one of you opted to talk about and the feelings were only now starting to bubble out about it “are you really mad at me?” Concerned flashed over your face as the dim lights of the parking building made your eyes shine when you looked at him.
You were spending the night with him again but needed to know you were okay “I’m never mad at you.” He shook his head as his hands wrapped around slid to your lap “don’t like having to share you.” Trevor’s confessed as he ran his thumb over your thigh.
It made your breath cut as you turned your body even closer to his “you don’t share me.” You pointed out as you sent him a smile “not if you don’t want to.” You mumbled swearing that the car was getting even hotter.
Those words were like music to his ears “you get to shoot me when I say you’re not mine alone.” Trevor cupped your cheek as he smiled “then I think you should make me yours Z.” You gasped feeling his lips finally meet yours.
It was like this moment that made your brain go numb, enjoying the way his touch made your body feel on fire. He let his free hand tug at your body, almost as if he was worried that you were going to leave. His touch was careful until your own hand scratched at his chest allowing his taste to captivate you as it danced on your tongue “Z.” You moaned feeling shivers travel through your body.
His mumbled grunt had you ready to into his arm “god I need you.” He blurted out deciding that his cock was becoming too painful against his suit pants. The boy watched you nod as you looked around you both “c’mon I’m not fucking you in my car yet.” Trevor’s words filled you with anticipation as your imagination ran wild thinking of all the different possibilities fun you could have with him.
Even as he was focused on the discomfort in his pants he still found the time to open your door for you “such a sweet boy.” You teased getting up as the boy rolled his eyes “yeah, yeah move along now.” He grumbled holding his duffel bag in one hand and his other wrapped around your waist spinning you around as he held your ass pressed against his cock.
Your breath faltered at the feeling his hair against your neck “be a good girl and walk ahead okay?” Trevor sucked at your ear lobe causing your body to shake in response “okay.” You forced the words from your lips as you bit at the inside of your cheek.
He smirked to himself as he clicked his tongue as you stayed still “you want to get a move on now or?” The hockey player teased pressing a kiss against your cheek. Your hands gripped at his coat tugging him along with you “god baby you’re so pretty tonight.” He confessed finally allowing his hands to leave your waist when the doors to the elevator shut. Your back was pressed against the mirror before you knew it, leaving you grateful that it was just the two of you in there.
Once hating how you wore his jersey so freely now Trevor couldn’t get enough of the sight “just tonight?” You giggled allowing your hands to travel to his waistband“and here I was thinking I was the girl of your dreams.” Your lips formed a playful pout seeing how his cheeks went flushed.
The stereotypical elevator music played in your ears “you know you are.” The hockey player trapped you in with one hand by your side and the other took one of your own “this is all for you princess.” He announced cupping your hand over his hardon.
His aftershave was sickeningly sweet as it invaded your nostrils “you’re gonna get me in so much trouble.” You announced hearing the door opened with a ding, signalling that you guys had made it to his floor “c’mon.” He ushered you out interlacing his hand with yours.
This time when you walked out to the familiar landscape of the hallway yet now you looked around like this was a foreign place where your heart pounded out of your chest “you getting cold feet on me now?” Trevor teased squeezing your hand as you shook your head “gonna have to do a lot more to keep me away pretty boy.” You mumbled pecking his lips before you got to his door.
It was as though the boy didn’t want to lose your hand as it was you who had to let go of his. He was then quick to fish his keys out of his jacket pocket letting you both into his place. The feeling of his lips was left on yours like a loved up couple dancing around your lips “you don’t know how happy I am to finally get you.” Trevor let his bag drop to the floor as a grin painted across your face.
He loved how responsive you were as he kissed you again. Now any potential fears that he might have had of people watching the sight left his mind and the only thing Trevor could think about was you. Your taste was enough to make him want more. His hands clawed at your jeans as the two of you acted like horny teenagers needing each other like oxygen.
Moans left your lips in place of air as your hands tugged at his hair “jump.” He ordered sliding his hands down the curve of your ass to support your weight. You didn’t need to be told twice crossing your legs around his hips as your tongue grazed over his lip “need you.” You pleaded pulling away as you let your forehead rest against his.
It held your desperate moment as you whimpered “c’mon then.” He mumbled carrying you to his room. The path had always been engraved in your mind but tonight you couldn’t help but think back to your dream and how his hands now felt perfect against you.
The boy had the same thoughts through his mind as he smiled letting you drop to his bed “what. Do. You. Want. Me. To. Do?” He asked between the kisses he used to attack your jaw.
It made your breath shake as your eyes watched him nestle between your thighs “I want you to tell me what you think of in that pretty little mind of yours.” Trevor explained letting a smile form on his lips as your cheeks turned red “I know you think about me making you feel good doll.” His words were enough to make you squirm.
Ever since that day when he caught you mid dream you hadn’t been able to forget about it, often finding ways to elaborate on your memories “you make me feel so good.” You whimpered feeling your skin grow warm “with your tongue first.” The latter was barely audible as a spark shone in his eyes.
It was like this bright gleam as he smirked “so I do take you for more than one round?” He teased tracing his hands dangerously close to the hem of your jersey “and when do I get you out of these?” As his cock throbbed in his pants Trevor was desperate to get a move on.
Your eyes flickered to your jeans “these went first.” You revealed making him nod “you gonna let me?” You should have been ashamed by the way that you desperately nodded.
He undid the button of your jeans and pulled down the zipper as he watched you catch your lip between your teeth “you’re so fucking pretty.” Trevor’s reminded you taking the chance to kiss your lips once more. The boy adored his responsive you were to him as the little alcohol you drank that night made his brain feel fuzzy.
Even as you had grown to have feelings for him over the years. you were still just as comfortable with this version of him as you were with the one who would steal food from your plate, when he’d sit on top of you acting like you weren’t there. Trevor watched you smile when he took that moment to go back to what he was doing “cute.” He teased seeing the blue checkered print on your panties.
A laugh left his lips as he watched you roll your eyes “you know Jack would have fucked me by now.” You knew that you were now playing a dangerous game but somehow you didn’t mind as you sent him a glare “then I think it’s about time I get you out of my jersey.” The hockey player emphasised his reminder of whose number was on your back.
Trevor’s movements were powered by irritation and his natural competitiveness also had him wanting to prove her wrong “think you knew you were gonna get fucked tonight didn’t you?” Trevor’s smirked seeing your matching set “but I guess I should ask by who?” He sucked his teeth as he couldn’t help but feel jealous about how your bra got to hug your breasts on an everyday occurrence.
You could have told him the truth but instead you felt like the secrets of your third addition to your dreams should be kept to yourself “you.” You squirmed feeling like head staring into your soul.
As his hands hooked into your panties you wanted him with intent “god you’re going to kill me.” You whined as the cold air came in contact with your cunt “like making you work for your reward.” He teased shuffling down his bed to get comfortable.
Trevor couldn’t help but lick his lips “god you’re a fucking beaut.” The boy mumbled as he kissed at your thighs. Equally spreading his attention between the two “fuck please.” You begged running your fingers over your stomach.
The neediness that glazed your eyes was enough to make him nod. His head dropped allowing him to lick a stripe up her slot. If this was anyone else you would have hated naked you were. Yet instead you shuddered the moment his tongue came in contact with your clit. All those late nights with nothing more than your vibrator and your imagination were put to shame by the needy boy who lay in front of you.
Your hands trailed to his hair desperately attempting to claw at something “don’t stop.” You mewled scrunching your toes in pleasure as his tongue dropped into your core. His nose teased your clit occasionally hitting the sensitive bundle of nerves.
Trevor watched in awe as he fucked your soaked cunt with his tongue treating you like a final meal as his arms wrapped around your thighs. Your eyes locked with his and you swore he took it as a challenge, like he wasn’t hitting the right spots as your eyes were still open.
The moment his head tilted allowing his tongue to reach a point that was deeper within you, you knew you were a goner. Your thighs began to shake as they pressed against the sides of his head “you’re gonna make me come.” You cried using the little focus you had available to drive your hips against his face constantly angling for him to continue hitting your g-spot.
Trevor moaned at the feeling of your cunt clenching around his tongue “just like that.” You pleaded unaware of how tears formed in your waterline as you were lead to your first orgasm that you hadn’t given yourself in months.
Your moans and cries bounced off of his bedroom walls preparing them for the stories that they would surely hold from tonight’s activities “Jesus Trevor oh.” Your lips formed a circle as your eyes screwed shut leaving your body to squirm still driving your hips to his mouth.
The hockey player swore he was dreaming as your salty release landed on his tongue and he continued to lap it up until you clearly began to lose it “no Z.” You mumbled trying to pull away from him when he let his tongue lay flat against your clit pressing a kiss to the sensitive nub before he pulled away.
There was a moment he took where he just sat there with a smirk on his face admiring the work that he had done already “you gonna let me continue making you feel so good?” He muttered honestly wondering if he had it within himself to behave until that point.
A mewl left your lips in delight as his hands tugged at the straps of your bra not caring for the fact that he had managed to rip it “Trevor!” You groaned feeling the elastic shoot against your skin “sorry doll.” His amused tone highlighted how he was anything but that “I’ll buy you another.” The hockey player offered adding seeing that hushed words did barely enough make you feel better so instead he pressed a kiss to your temple.
Your breasts bounced the moment they were released from your bra “‘s not fair you ain’t naked too.” You complained seeing his suit still on him “life ain’t fair doll.” He teased running his hands along your torso until her breasts.
A huff left your lips as his thumbs grazed your nipples “you want to know who would have been naked?” You asked watching his face hover over yours as it tilted practically edging you to answer “Jack.” The name was like a weight that hit Trevor like an anvil. The jab was a taunt and now he was left to decide how to react.
His response was to pinch your stiff peaks, letting the bud roll between his fingers “you really think he’d have you feeling as good as I do?” The hockey player let out a grunt as he rolled his eyes “uh huh.” You couldn’t allow yourself to back down now.
He had this constant desire to outcompete Jack was bubbling through his system. After seeing her so close to Jack that night, Trevor knew that he had one chance to fix it all once and for all to become the outright favourite. His sharp gaze made you force your thighs together as his nimble fingers tugged at his shirt.
The tie that once complimented his neck was now long gone as he threw it onto his navy comforter “can’t believe you’re still such a brat even after all that I do for you.” He grumbled picking it back up once he saw how your eyes sparkled seeing it “arms.” Trevor pushed his hands together showing you what to do.
Part of you was confused enough that you listened pushing your wrists together “up.” The cool metal of his bed frame was freezing against your skin causing your lips to form an o “since you want to act like such a brat you don’t get touch me.” His words were met with a whimper as you went to complain “you cry about it and I’m sure you’re gonna love the taste of your pretty little panties in your mouth.” Trevor warned making you gulp as you began to think about his offer.
Once you remained silent he instead looked to continue pulling his clothes off “not a brat.” You mumbled looking to his comforter “so you won’t mind me fucking his name right out of your mouth?” The boy was serious as his boxers were the final addition to the clothing pile that had formed on his floor.
Trevor fiddled through his bedside cabinet to get a condom from the box “would have fucked you raw but not even you deserve that much.” He grumbled to himself tearing the metallic wrapper to reveal the latex element. His cock throbbed feeling the air of the room around him “god please just fuck me already.” You pleaded kicking your legs as you felt helpless not being able to move your arms.
He laughed as he rolled the condom over his cock “how can I say no when you ask so nicely.” The hockey player cooed crawling back onto the bed as you pulled your legs up spreading them for him to get a view of your soaking desperate cunt “I’m ready to fuck his name right outta your mouth.” Trevor’s voice was so low that you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or not.
You nodded chewing at the inside of your cheek “will believe it when I see it.” If there was a hole then you were digging yourself into it “you’re lucky I have been picturing fucking this cunt for years.” He grunted running his covered cock over your slit teasing your clit causing a moan to leave your lips.
Trevor like you had these dreams at night and his hand with the memory of your moans were now no longer enough to make him come “jesus fuck.” You gasped as your cunt stretched around his cock “it’s just me doll.” His hands found themselves by your sides as he kissed you letting the vibe grow soft like he genuinely cared.
Maybe it was for the fact that you were currently full with his cock but this time you couldn’t argue back “please move.” Your hands tugged at his tie finally feeling stretched out “you feel like heaven.” Trevor groaned beginning to settle into a rhythm.
He enjoyed watching how your body bounced with each creak of the headboard.
Your eyes trailed down his body taking snapshots of his chiseled chest. He smirked picking up how your mouth watered at the sight of his throbbing cock thrusting into you “like keeping those pretty little eyes on me huh?” The boy teased angling his thrusts upward to get a deeper angle.
The room got hot as you whimpered “fuck you feel so good.” Your legs snaked around his hips refusing to let him go “you know I’m the only one who makes you feel this good right?” He murmured running his tongue along your jaw.
It made you shiver as your breasts throbbed “answer the question before I stop.” Trevor raised his hand to slap your thigh making you moan “only you z.” You nodded feeling your wrists grow sore with how you tugged at the restraints.
But that wasn’t enough for him as he let his hand slot between your two bodies “only I what?” He taunted you letting his fingers ghost over your clit “fuck me like this.” You mewled feeling your legs begin to shake.
Hearing those words were like music to his ears “guess I should let you touch me then?” Trevor proposed making you nod desperately “god please yes.” You should have been embarrassed by how desperate you were for him to let you touch him.
A whine left your lips as you felt his hand leave your clit “relax you brat.” He scoffed rolling his eyes “I’m giving you what you want so behave.” Trevor’s snapped making you nod as you went silent watching his hand claw at his tie undoing the knots.
The moment your hands were free they pulled his face down to yours. It was a needy kiss that you finally took control of as you took him by surprise “still such a needy girl even with my cock for her to fuck.” The vulgar words made you clench around him “you think he could have gotten you feeling like this?” The hockey player groaned as his head dropped to your shoulder for his lips to nip at the soft skin.
Jack was the last thing on your mind as you shook your head as your hands moved to his back letting your nails claw at him “no.” You shook your head making Trevor use the little energy he head left to look back up at you “what was that I couldn’t hear you?” He taunted applying more pressure to your clit as his hips snapped into you.
Your mouth opened ready for the cries to leave your lips yet you were silent only letting the soft gasps push past your lips “you keep fucking me so well.” You blurted out not having tome to care about how dirty your words truly were.
It made him groan as he soaked your words up like a sponge “shit.” He felt his pace increase as the squelching sounds from your cunt echoed in his ears “I’m close.” You confessed letting your eyes screw shut as the room grew even hotter.
Your skin was slick with sweat and you were sure to have been a mess “stick your tongue out for me baby.” He ordered as you nodded feeling your breasts hit his skin.
Your tongue rolled out of your mouth awaiting further instructions “such a good listener.” The boy praised causing your cunt to clench around him again.
Trevor swore he was going to come when his spit left his mouth. It was a sticky string that connected your mouth to his “now swallow.” He brushed his thumb over your lower lip breaking the saliva trail as he placed his thumb in your mouth.
On instinct your tongue swirled around the digit listening to his orders as he smirked “good girl.” Trevor murmured as he felt you begin to ride your hips into his “go milk my cock baby.” The words made you cry as your thighs began to shake.
His attacks on your clit pushed you over the edge “god please don’t stop!” You pleaded feeling your chest heave “doll keep your eyes on me when you come.” As his hips snapped into yours you couldn’t but listen.
Your eyes stared into his as you moaned “right there!” You gritted out in delight making him nod as you finally came. White points coated your vision as your body thrashed around letting your cunt clamp down around his cock.
Just like that his head dropped back down to your shoulder “such a tight perfect cunt f’me.” Trevor cooed feeling his cock twitch coating his release into his condom as you squeezed his cock one final time.
The two of you lay there embracing each other’s hold as you both focused on your breathing and your fingers brushed through his hair “you wanted a bath princess?” Trevor offered rolling off of you as he feared he didn’t have the energy to simply pull out.
He had to snap his fingers in front of you in order to get you to respond “since when are you into aftercare?” You let out an amused laugh clearly not believing that it was something he was capable of “just for that I have to show you.” Trevor shot back scooping you into his arms before you could complain.
It made him smile as you wrapped your arms around him “I just want to be proved wrong.” You teased making him laugh as he opened the door to his bathroom bringing you both into there.
Whilst the sounds of laughter and running water came from the bathroom what neither of you noticed was that a message came through to your phone. One that would surely lead to more harm than good especially whilst you were finding a reason to sneak out with your clothes half on the next morning.
Jack: you up for coming to the Vegas game still?
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