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userlando · 9 months

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the love we left — carlos sainz jr

carlos sainz jr x fem!reader [8.8k] summary: you weren’t aware that your family’s worry had extended so far that they’d brought in the heavy artillery, it being carlos sainz of all people. the very same person who’d turned you into someone you didn’t recognise in the mirror anymore. warnings: 18+ explicit smut & language, very angsty, mentions of alcohol abuse and drug use, heartbreak, childhood friends, brother's best friend, public sex a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts, unfinished for a whole month so I went back and thought that it deserved a second chance. and voilà, here you have it! my very first carlos fic!! i'd love to hear your thoughts on this, because I love how this turned out. happy reading my lovelies!! x

The music was pounding, borderline rupturing your eardrum with good music that had you bobbing your head gently to the intimate beat. Everywhere you looked were bodies, moving in unison and hands roaming sweaty skin.

The bartender poured drinks like his life depended on it, and you watched him pour you another shot of tequila without a verbal request from you, shooting you a friendly grin and side stepping to help the next customer. You downed your shot, pulling a small face at the rancid taste as you made your way to the dance floor.

You didn’t know when you’d become this type of person. The person who’d spend their weekends in clubs, dancing the nights away until they got blisters on their feet and most likely woke up with their head in a toilet bowl. It had started out as something you and your girlfriends did, sneaking into clubs when you’d just turned legal, but then you’d started going alone because you found out that sitting in your apartment alone with your thoughts was way too much for you to handle.

You weren’t strong enough to deal with your emotions, preferring to find people and alcohol to distract you. It had worked out quite well for you and the multiple shots you’d taken over the span of two hours were starting to settle in your bones, buzzing right beneath your skin and giving you enough courage to seek out the dance floor.

Your body moved like it was an entity of its own, face tilted up to the ceiling and eyes closed as you felt the music. It rattled your bones and settled in your hips, the bottom of your heels sticking to the floor with every step you took.

I’ve never seen someone look so at home on a dance floor, he’d once said. The words came sneaking into your mind, unbidden. You could still remember the party, how your brother had bought the whole gang shots and you’d taken to the floor with laughter and happiness in your bellies. The DJ hadn’t been very happy when your brother and the man of the hour stepped up to the booth and completely took over with their non-existent experience of manning a DJ booth, but he’d relented when your brother had drunkenly explained that this man right here? He’s gonna be racing cars professionally, cabrón.

You were so far gone in your head, not even flinching at the pair of hands sliding over your waist and pulling you into a body. The person smelled of cigarette smoke and cheap cologne, and it made something roll in your stomach at the mix of it in your nostrils but you couldn’t pull away. He was yet another distraction from your messed up life, and you welcomed it in all forms.

If you let yourself take a step back and think of exactly why you allowed a complete stranger to touch you the way they were, you’d come to the conclusion that the reason was because the feeling of hands on your hips reminded you of him. That one damned night that changed you, that made you into this.

He’d cornered you against the wall, claimed your lips in a bruising kiss that left you panting and his hands. Fuck. His hands had gripped your hips so tight that you’d had bruises for a whole week after that encounter.

You’d thought that finally, finally the both of you would be together after years of pining; Spending your awkward teenage years wishing that your brother’s best friend would look at you as a girl he could imagine kissing, and not as his best friend’s sister and a family friend. But then he’d acted like nothing happened, leaving you in the dust with little to no explanation as he went to kickstart his career.

Bile rose in your throat as your brain entered dangerous territory, and you blinked your eyes open against the lights. It was blurry, and it took a few moments for you to realise that there were tears welling up in your eyes. You’d stopped crying long ago, but sometimes the tears managed to sneak up on you when you were vulnerable and drunk.

The hands on your body were suddenly too much, and just as you were about to run, someone grabbed you and yanked a little harder than you had been prepared for. You stumbled, a wordless shout leaving your lips when you were pulled to the side of the dance floor, legs struggling to keep up. It took a second for you to realise that someone had grabbed you and was in the process of dragging you off the dance floor, away from the sweaty and dancing bodies, away from the man who you’d danced with. Your eyes were scanning your surroundings, feeling too drunk to think of a good plan to escape so you settled for the only thing that would hopefully get someone’s attention.

Before you could open your mouth and scream, a hand settled right on your lips and muffled the sound, your eyes flickering up to the man in front of you in the hopes that you could shoot him the most pleading look through your eyes.

You found yourself looking into round and dark eyes, so eerily familiar that it made your stomach violently turn and you took a stumbling step back like shock itself had shoved you, turning around to promptly retch into a nearby trash can. You heaved and clutched at the edge of the bin with your hands, moaning miserably until it finally stopped.

“Come on, let’s get you outside.” His voice sounded somewhere behind you, somehow overpowering the pulsing music.

His hands grabbed at you, helping you steady yourself and you didn’t bother to spare him another glance as you weakly shoved his hands away. He didn’t fight you, nor say anything when you walked straight out of the club, legs feeling incredibly weak and hands shaking; like you were two seconds away from breaking down.

And you were. What the fuck was he doing here? Why would he come back?

The chilly air was welcomed when you pushed the back door open, stumbling out into the alley and breathing in, in an effort to sober up. You ignored your trembling hands as you dug around in your purse for gum, anything to get rid of the sour taste in your mouth but you doubted it would do much to settle the nausea roiling in your stomach.

You heard a scuffle behind you, causing you to freeze because you’d been hoping that it was all just your drunken mind playing tricks on you; Because it happened sometimes. It had happened in your dreams, and once when you’d smoked a dodgy rolled up joint and hallucinated him being there. But no, he was standing there when you turned around, eyebrows pulled together in that annoying frown he always wore whenever he disapproved of something. His face was passive though, eyes not giving away anything and it was so infuriating.

He’d always played the older brother, acting like he had some kind of right to decide over you just because he was your brother’s friend. But his feelings had been anything but fraternal, he’d made that very clear when he decided to fuck you and leave.

You swallowed, feeling nauseous as you stood staring at him.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, cursing yourself quietly when your voice shook. But you sounded stern, even in your drunken state and something about your tone made the man grit his teeth.

“I was worried—“

No. You didn’t need to hear the same old spiel again. He didn’t get to be worried about you, not anymore.

“What are you doing here, Carlos?” You cut him off, making him cringe at the way you said his name, sharply and angry - so differently from how you used to say it.

“Your family is worried about you.” He replied slowly.

The way he talked reminded you of someone who spoke carefully as to not scare away a skittish animal. It was very bizarre, the feeling so unreal that you had a hard time believing that your fucked up mind hadn’t decided to conjure him up on a random Sunday night. A few moments passed as you stared, and stared. He was truly there in the flesh.

You were aware that your mother had been worried, calling you every day to check up on you and you gave her the same old answer because what else was there to say?

You just weren’t aware that your family’s worry had extended so far that they’d brought in the heavy artillery, it being Carlos fucking Sainz of all people. The very same person who’d turned you into someone you didn’t recognise in the mirror anymore.

“I wanted to check up on you, see how you are doing.” He broke the drawn out silence, stuffing both of his hands into the pockets of his jacket like he didn’t know what else to do with them.

You remembered the odd habit he used to have, where he’d wring his hands whenever he felt out of place. It was such a minuscule detail that barely anyone took notice of, but you did. You always did.

Your eyes dropped to follow the movement, noting the casual jeans and the red hoodie under his black jacket. You quickly looked away, refusing to think about how good he looked.

“Well, now you have. So you can go.” You shot him a smile with no real joy behind it, turning around and walking down the alleyway in the direction of your apartment.

You knew that he wouldn’t leave you alone, and a big part of you wanted him to. But you couldn’t deny that one percent that wanted, needed him to stay.

The sounds of his footsteps let you know that he wasn’t far behind and you jumped like he’d burned you when you felt his fingertips touch your arm. Just a quick touch that lit your body on fire. Your eyes found his and you took a big step back, feeling your chest go tight at the slight downwards tilt of his lips, like he hadn’t expected you to react negatively.

“Nena, please. Let me walk you home, at least.” He said and your throat tightened up at the familiar pet name he’d called you since you were children and so incredibly naive.

“Don’t call me that.” You sniffled, bringing a hand up to rub at your nose. “You don’t get to show up here after two years and play the hero. I don’t need one, and I certainly don’t need you.”

“Lo sé.” He said, but he really didn’t know, did he?

You didn’t say a word, taking two steps before glaring down at your shoes. They had been a pain the whole night and now that the alcohol wasn’t doing its job of numbing the pain, your feet were starting to hurt from being pinched for the past few hours. You balanced yourself with a hand on the wall, slipping your heels off with a quiet grumble and shoving the offending footwear into the man’s chest. Carlos grunted at the unexpected force, hands coming up to catch the heels before they dropped and raising both eyebrows at you.

You weren’t looking at his face, but you could tell that he was baffled by your actions and it made you feel just a tad bit smug. If he was going to show up and insist on pestering you, he might as well make himself useful.

The concrete was uncomfortable to walk barefoot on, but it felt freeing and you took comfort in that feeling. Anything to not think about exactly who was walking a few steps behind you, feeling his eyes on you like hot coal on your skin.

“Do you live far from here?” He asked, tone cautious like he didn’t want to say the wrong things or set you off.

“No, why?” You turned your head to look over your shoulder and found him walking way closer to you than you thought. “Is the neighbourhood not up to your standards?”

You knew you were being petty now, playing unfair and it clearly annoyed Carlos as he looked away to avoid your cold gaze. It wasn’t his fault that he’d gone and got himself an even more lavish lifestyle where he raced cars for a living and got millions out of it. You’d always been proud of him, one of his biggest supporters before everything transpired and although you didn’t want to admit it out loud, you’d always keep tabs on him.

There weren’t enough fingers on your hands to count the amount of times you’d struggled to not pick up your phone and text him after he’d won a race, or if he did badly. The urge to comfort him and to be happy for him was still there, even years later.

“I live down the road.” You said, desperate to break the tension. “You can go.”

Carlos fell into step beside you, not sparing you a glance as he nodded.

“I know.” He said, but made no effort to leave you alone.

The two of you walked in relative silence, interjecting with small talk every now and then to fill the unbearable quiet that had blanketed over you. It took a few minutes for Carlos to relax, shoulders dropping like the tension was slowly seeping out of his body when he realised that you were beyond your anger now, speaking softly rather than the tone you’d carried a few minutes earlier. He didn’t like how you sounded though, mellow and short, like you’d given up on caring. It made something ugly swirl in his stomach to the point where he started to feel nauseous.

He was starting to spiral in his thoughts, trapped inside his head and just as he opened his mouth to speak, you beat him to it.

“How’s Ferrari treating you?” You asked and his head snapped to you. You weren’t looking at him, staring straight ahead with your mouth in a thin line. “You’ve been doing well lately.”

Carlos didn’t know if you were trying to act nonchalant and if you were, you were doing a piss poor job because he could see how you struggled to maintain a neutral expression on your face. He didn’t want to point it out though because his mind had finally caught up to your question, teetering along the edge of she’s keeping tabs on me.

“Yeah.” His voice was hoarse and he hurriedly cleared his throat. “It’s been good, felt like a dream when I signed the contract.”

You could still remember when he started karting, how he’d plead with his parents to buy him merchandise with the Ferrari logo poorly pressed onto the material. It had always been a dream of his, and something about him achieving it made you smile.

“I bet it was.” You said softly, glancing at Carlos to find him staring at you; eyes wide and searching, like he was taking in your smile. You hurried to look away, suddenly uncomfortable with the rush of old emotions storming back and taking residence in your entire being.

“How have you been?” He asked, genuine and curious.

You considered ignoring his question, not knowing how to answer him without making yourself out to be the most pathetic person to grace the earth. How could you tell him how you’d been in a downwards spiral for the past years? Could you even admit to the things you’d done, how you’d drank yourself to oblivion in hopes to numb yourself and worked dead end jobs to keep yourself afloat?

“I’ve been fine.” Your tone was flat, letting him know that you weren’t in the mood to delve deeper and thankfully he respected your wishes, keeping silent. “Well, here we are.”

You nodded up at the apartment complex you’d stopped in front of, suddenly feeling awkward as you found yourselves staring at each other with no idea how to proceed.

Carlos fidgeted as you stared at him, looking as anxious as you felt and it made you a little sad because you’d been better than this, once upon a time. You’d never known awkward silences or odd looks, but you’d somehow managed to go from close to whatever the fuck this was. Strangers. Ex-lovers. But could you even dub him as an ex-lover when you’d only slept with him once?

You took in the sharpness of his jaw, the stubble growing on it fitting him as well as you remembered but there was a certain edge to him that hadn’t existed last time you saw him. He looked fully grown up, like an adult who didn’t have time for children’s games and torrid love affairs.

Homesickness bloomed in your chest the further your mind delved into the past, suddenly wishing that things were different. Wishing that you’d swallowed your pride and picked up your phone.

Would he have answered? Did he change his number?

You swallowed excessive saliva in your mouth, trying not to grimace when it felt like swallowing gravel as your eyes traveled down his arm that he’d successfully managed to free from his pocket, hanging by his side. Your eyes latched onto the space between his thumb and pointer finger, where the tan skin was white and raised in a small bump. A healed scar that brought such a rush of memories that the words tumbled out of your mouth before you overthought them.

“Do you wanna come in?” You asked and Carlos couldn’t manage to hold his surprise in, eyebrows shooting up and jaw going a little slack. “Just… for a while.”

It probably sounded wrong, like you were inviting him with ulterior motives and you weren’t. Really. Just the thought of him touching you made bile rise in your throat and you realised that you weren’t ready. For any of this. But then again, would you ever be ready?

Whatever inner monologue you were running through in your head was halted when Carlos exhaled, glancing at the apartment building before nodding twice.

“Me encantaría.” He said, voice gentle.

You hurried to get your keys out of your purse, hands shaking a little and you didn’t know whether it was from your nerves being shot or the unhealthy amount of alcohol you’d consumed not even an hour ago. The door gave way when you turned the key and pushed it forcefully with your shoulder, stepping inside and flicking the light on.

It wasn’t much. A one bedroom apartment in a safe enough neighbourhood. Your brother had scowled and made his displeasure known when he’d helped you move in, even offering to find you a better place to rent out but you refused. Mostly because this was further away from your family and because it was yours. It had its defects and flaws, but you loved it from the moment you stepped foot inside.

Your brother and Carlos were like one person in two bodies, so you almost expected him to get his two cents in when he stepped in behind you and closed the door; Eyes roaming around and taking in the place. His face gave nothing away, as always, but then his brown eyes landed on you and his lips twitched.

“I like it.” He said, like you’d asked.

You gave a nod, secretly pleased but then you scolded yourself because why the fuck did you even care what he thought? Mierda.

“Glad to know you approve.” You muttered, annoyance pricking your heart and you didn’t know why. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll just be a minute.”

You left him to his own devices, standing in the middle of the living area looking a little lost while you sought out the comfort of your bedroom. The door closed with a click and you hurriedly changed your clothes to something more comfortable, snatching your makeup wipes where they’d fallen on the floor to wipe at your face. Your makeup was smudged, embarrassingly so but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when your heart was racing a mile a minute, thinking of the man on the other side of the door.

There was a moment of panic where you felt that shit, you shouldn’t have invited him in because this apartment was the only place he hadn’t touched, soiled with his fake promises and lies.

The memories of you in his bed came back with full force, thinking of how you’d woken up in the middle of the night with a smile on your face that got wiped as soon as you touched the cold side of his bed. He’d been nowhere to be found, and you’d contemplated staying and hoping that he’d come back in the morning but then you’d found his contract on the kitchen counter and the packed suitcases you’d somehow skimmed over when you were wrapped up in him.

It had felt like a gut punch and it still did as you stared at yourself in the mirror, swallowing against the nausea swirling up from your stomach to your throat. Your eyes welled with tears, and you gave yourself a moment to silently cry before you wiped angrily at your eyes, reaching for your toothbrush.

You thought back on your younger self, how she’d been so happy to have finally caught the eyes of her brother’s best friend. After years of pining and hoping that he’d see her as something more than his sister. How he’d once wiped a thumb under her eye when she’d first started experiencing with makeup in her teenage years, and he’d softly said that you don’t need so much of it. You’re beautiful, nena.

You deserved better, but you didn’t know what better was. Was it in the arms of a man or the bottom of a shot glass? It was a terrifying revelation, to realise how fucked up your life had become and it was all your fault.

Closure. That was what you needed, wasn’t it? But you didn’t want to move on from him, because despite it all, you still loved him.

Carlos had his back to you when you came out of your room, staring hard at the frames on the wall and you briefly wondered if he noticed how you’d deliberately left out the pictures with him.

“I remember this day.” He said quietly without looking at you. His finger pointed at a framed picture of you and your best friend, at an animal sanctuary with your hands stretched out, feeding a giraffe. “You were so happy to finally see giraffes, no one could pull you away from them.”

You wanted to smile at the memory, but it was hard when emotion was still clogging up your throat. You embraced yourself and sat down on your sofa, making a small hum of acknowledgement instead. Carlos turned around at that, sweeping his eyes across the small area before settling on you.

“Things change.” You said, because they really did.

“Sí.” He sighed, taking a seat in the ottoman. The seat furthest away from you, you noted. “I have that picture in my driver’s room. Not that one, but a similar one where you’re by yourself.”

You knew what picture he was referring to and it made you frown. Why would he confess to that?

“Why?” You asked, because that was the question, wasn’t it? Why, why, why?

Carlos inhaled through his nose, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Reminds me of how simple life used to be.” He said, like it answered the million questions in your head.

You didn’t ask him to elaborate, because you didn’t want to hear it. It must’ve been difficult to lead such a fast paced life, hopping from one country to the other and spending hours on driving cars. You’d imagine that it got a little too much at some point, rendering you homesick and yearning for a simpler life. But it didn’t work like that. Life rarely went the way you wanted it to.

“Why are you really here, Carlos?” You asked, the question so sudden that it cut through the false sense of security the both of you had managed to build.

He stared at you, eyes unmoving and it was so unnerving that you looked down in your lap, pulling the sleeves of your sweater over your hands.

“I miss you.” He said, and you barely managed to hold in the scoff. Barely. “I miss us.”

“There was no us.” You interjected, spitting the word out like it was venom.

It might as well have been because Carlos hands curled into fists where they stayed in his lap, something he always did to reel his frustration in. Somehow, that angered you. You weren’t the one who walked out. You weren’t the one who left him behind.

“I kno—“

“No, you don’t!” You hissed, fury finally unfurling in your chest. “El problema es usted no sabe mi dolor o mi vacío. You just walk back into my life like I’m supposed to welcome you with open arms.”

Your breathing was picking up, chest heaving with the lack of air you were heaving in and it did nothing to stop the pricks of tears in your eyes as you raised your head to glare at him. Carlos looked taken aback, hands slack from the previous fists and his eyes looked… Sad. Regretful. It was so pitiful that you couldn’t help but laugh wetly and humourlessly, bringing a sleeved hand to wipe at your nose.

“I don’t know what to say.” He admitted after a painful silence.

You looked away, sniffling as tears started falling traitorously, tracking your cheeks and you hated yourself for it. The last thing you wanted to do in front of Carlos was cry, but it seemed like your heart disagreed.

“I don’t know what you want from me.” You said, quietly. “You’ve already had me and it wasn’t enough.”

“It was enough.” His voice was more forceful than you expected, making your stomach drop. “It is enough. The fault was never with you, it was me.”

“Cállate.” You shook your head. “Don’t do the it’s not you, it’s me bullshit.”

Carlos sucked his teeth in exasperation.

“You know I’ve always loved you, nena.” He said and it made you look up.

Love? For a moment, your heart stopped beating in your chest as hope flared in every crevice of your body. But you reeled it in just as quick, because if he called fucking and dumping love, then you were better off. You might’ve been damaged but you still recognised that you deserved better.

“I don’t know.” You set your jaw. “You have a funny way of showing it, if you do.”

He sat up in the ottoman, ignoring the groan of protest it gave under his weight. The both of you stared at each other for a second and it felt like the longest hour of your life.

“That night…” He began, trailing off like he wasn’t sure how to put his thoughts into words. “Nena, I didn’t do anything that I regretted, and I still don’t. The only thing I regret is leaving you the way I did because you deserve so much better.”

Something wet touched your throat and you hurried to wipe at it, realising that tears were still rolling down your face. It irked you.

Carlos sighed heavily, like the conversation was too much to bear and you agreed with that sentiment, for once.

“Then why did you? Leave?” Your voice was quiet, broken and you hated the sound of it.

Carlos pulled a small face like it pained him to hear you so broken down, and it sent a small zip of satisfaction through you. You wanted him to hurt like you’d hurt.

“Because I was scared.” He confessed. “I was scared about everything. Your brother, this new life that I got pushed into. It was too much and I was panicking that night. I just wanted to feel normal again.”

“So… you slept with me and left?” You laughed bitterly.

Carlos cut you a stern look that still, to this day, shut you right up. He’d always had the face for it, the round and wide dark eyes and the bushy eyebrows. He could look intimidating when he wanted to, not that he ever scared you but you knew when to shut up.

“No. I sought you out because you were the only person who feels safe, who feels like home.”

He said feels. Not felt. So did that mean you still felt like home to him? You weren’t sure what to think or believe, feeling nauseous and lost all of a sudden.

“I realise that I went about it completely wrong.” He continued when you still hadn’t spoken. “I have a lot of regrets in my life, nena. But leaving you in my bed is the biggest of them all.”

The confession felt heavy, riddled with underlying emotions and confessions that you weren’t really ready to confront nor unpack. It was exhausting, all this new information invading your every sense and Carlos must’ve sensed how overwhelmed you’d suddenly become, because he palmed the tops of his thighs and sucked his teeth.

“Do you wanna get out for a bit?” He asked and you raised your eyebrows in slight bewilderment.

“It’s two in the morning.” You replied slowly and that prompted a smile from Carlos.

The sight of it was so unexpected and beautiful that it felt like a sucker punch, making you look away before you started staring.

“That never stopped you before.”

Before. Before when you’d sneak out of the house with your girlfriends to meet up with other friends and go to the most obscure parties. And Carlos would always be the one to catch you in the act, whenever he stayed over the house. He’d never berate or rat you out, just smirk and tell you to stay safe. To call if you ever needed him.

“Fine.” You relented, standing up and making your way over to the hallway. “Do you have a car?”

“Yeah, I parked it not too far from here.” He regarded you silently when you reached for your shoes, slipping them on. “Are you going to go out like that?”

It didn’t sound judgemental, only curious and that’s why you shot him an amused stare instead of picking up a fight out of annoyance.

“Yes.” You said, short and sweet.

He gave you a long stare before nodding, and that was that.

Fifteen minutes later and you were sitting in the passenger seat of a Ferrari, speeding down the deserted highway. There was no clear destination in either of your minds, but you cracked open the window and let the wind whip your hair, closing your eyes for a moment.

The radio was playing quietly in the background, almost drowned out by the roar of the engine, but it was comforting all the same.

Carlos hadn’t said a word since he started the car, only hitting you with a do you want seat warmers on? to which you’d shook your head. But he was good company, silent and comforting, just like he used to be.

“I love this song.” You said softly when the voices on the radio drifted off, the familiar tunes of Lovers Rock filling the relative silence.

Carlos didn’t say anything, just reached a hand out to turn the sound up a few bars, shooting you a glance that you felt in your core. It was amazing how he still made you feel like that, like someone had reached down your throat and fisted your heart violently. It was a sickening feeling, one that was so addicting and dangerous but you still yearned for it.

You were still mad at him, but you could also see a clearer picture now that he’d given you his side of the story and apologised. It wasn’t that you forgave him - that would take time - but you weren’t holding a grudge as strong like before.

It was hard though, to not acknowledge how he still made you feel like the wide eyed teenage girl who’d once saw the stars and moon in his dark eyes, who’d feel sick with love and admiration for him.

Because love can burn like a cigarette,

and leave you alone with nothing.

There was an irony to the lyrics, one that seemed to fit your current life like a glove. Carlos cleared his throat.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, breaking the silence.

Your stomach still felt unsettled from the drinks you’d had and from him showing up and upending your life, so you shook your head in the negative and turned your head to look at him.

“No, thank you.” You whispered.

Carlos didn’t take his eyes off the road and you took the chance to look at him, taking in the sharpness of his jaw and his strong nose. His hair was longer than last time you saw him, floppy and soft without any product in it and it should’ve annoyed you how beautiful he looked. Like something straight out of a romance movie.

There were a slight shadow under his eyes though, looking a lot like a person who carried the weight of the world on their shoulders and you fisted your hands in your lap to avoid reaching out to swipe a thumb over the bags of his eyes. You’d been so swept up in your anger that you’d failed to realise that Carlos was probably hurting just as much, he just couldn’t show it or self-destruct.

“Estás mirando, nena.” His voice, paired with the pull of his mouth made you look away.

Warmth spread all over your body when you realised that you’d been caught staring, for far too long to play it off.

“Where are we going?” You asked, in desperate need to change the subject and Carlos noticed it, because his nose flared as he tugged his bottom lip between his teeth; Like he was trying to hold his smile off.

“La playa.” He said.

The air had chilled considerably when you stepped out of the car, the wind whipping your bare legs and you pulled your sweater over your hands to find some comforting warmth as you gazed out over the beach.

It was dark, completely deserted even by the boardwalk and it was perfect for you, not in the mood to run into anyone who might know the man who was currently walking a few steps behind you.

The sand found its way into your shoes but you paid it little to no mind as you hurried your steps to the shoreline, far enough that the water wouldn't reach you, but close enough to hear the ominuous sounds of crashing waves.

"It's cold." Carlos said and you turned around, taking in the scrunch of his nose as he glanced around.

"Es perfecto." You said, waiting until Carlos looked over at you to give him a tentative smile. There was something in his face that changed at the sight of your open and vulnerable expression, but you didn't stop to think too hard on it.

Instead, you reached for your oversized sweater and pulled it clean off your head, ignoring Carlos' sounds of mortified and confused protest. His voice climbed in octaves when you kicked your shorts off, toeing your shoes away before you began walking backwards toward the ocean.

"Ay, what are you doing?" He asked, taking a step forward like he wanted to stop you. "You're gonna get sick!"

You ignored him, only breaking eye contact when the current carried up the shore, frothy water licking your calves and it was so cold that you felt it in your entire being. A sharp gasp left your lips, but you were determined to get a dip in just to clear your head.

It had been a long night, and getting sick was the last thing on your mind as water enveloped you.

Carlos watched silently, though his heart was pounding against his ribcage whenever he lost sight of you for a mere second. You'd always emerge from the water, smiling like you were in your own world and that's probably what stopped him from stalking right over and yank you out of the bed of water.

You looked so free, the complete opposite of how you'd looked the entire night and he selfishly didn't want that look on your face to diminish. Granted, you weren't smiling out of joy nor were you directing it at him, but the burden on your shoulders looked a little lighter when you finally started walking out of the water.

He tried hard not to stare at your body, the skimpy lingerie doing absolutely nothing to hide the most private parts of you. Carlos didn't know if he was just imagining things, but you'd truly grown into yourself since he last saw you.

You were shivering when you reached him, arms embracing your upper body like they were going to provide the warmth you needed to not send yourself into shock. He shrugged his jacket off without thinking when you hurriedly redressed in your sweater, water still dripping down your hair and body.

Carlos was ever the worrier, sitting you down on the sand and draping his jacket around your shoulder. You didn't protest, happily accepting it with a stuttered thank you that had his chest squeezing.

"You've always been good at surprising me." Carlos said when a few minutes had passed. He smiled when you gazed at him, trying not to react when you shifted and accidentally bumped your thigh against his.

You pulled away slightly, looking out into the darkness.

"How long are you staying?" You asked, quietly and slowly like you weren't sure if you wanted to hear the answer.

You knew realistically that he couldn't stay, he wouldn't. Carlos had a whole other life to live and a job to tend to, but you'd foolishly believed that maybe he'd stick around.

Carlos had a crease between his eyebrows that told you otherwise though, and you knew what was coming out of his mouth before he even said the words.

"Two days." He replied quietly, the sound almost getting swallowed up by the rushing waves in the distance. "I'm supposed to be in Italy by now but I wanted to see you."

You smiled despite yourself, a small graze of the lips that had Carlos inhale through his nose.

"I'm glad you came." You confessed out loud, the very same words you'd been scared to utter for the past hour.

Now they were out in the open, and Carlos was staring at the side of your head like he'd maybe heard wrong.

"Me too." He said softly, watching you shift as a breeze blew by.

Your thigh grazed his and this time, you didn't move away, letting the warmth of your flesh seep through his jeans.

"I'm sorry for everything." Carlos pulled a leg up to rest his cheek on the knee, head turned towards you. "I wish I could take it all back."

"I know." You said quietly.

You looked at each other in silence and you took in the slope of his nose and the tanned skin. The apples of his cheeks were a little sunburnt, lips dry but oh so full and inviting. You stared at them, thinking back to how they'd tasted that one fateful night.

Carlos cheeks went a little pink at your scrutiny and you quickly looked away, feeling yourself flush warmth all over at being caught staring so obviously.

"Come with me." He said and you blinked, confusion marring your face when you turned back to look at him. "To Italy. Just to get away for a bit. You can meet my friends and watch me race."

You hesitated, feeling lost all of a sudden because you weren't sure if you were ready for it yet. But a small part of you wanted to go with him, to let go of this life of destruction you'd managed to envelop yourself in.

Carlos hesitantly touched your hand that you had in your lap, fingertips against the palm of your hand and that one small touch was so electrifying that you filled your belly with air, holding your breath until it hurt your chest before exhaling.

"Charles has a girlfriend who I think you'd get along with well. She’s very much like you." He continued, sounding an awful lot like a salesman and it made you smile. “You’d love her, I think.”

You didn't know who Charles was, but the name rang a bell and you took a shot in the dark that it was his teammate.

"I probably would." You replied slowly and Carlos pinched eyebrows relaxed a tad bit when you finally broke your silence, like your silence had built some anxiety. "Can I think on it? I just —"

"Yes." He interrupted you, like he completely understood. "You don't have to explain yourself. I'll be around for two more days so you can take your time."

You thought about your brother, wondering if he knew what had spiralled that night before Carlos left to start his career. Did he have a hunch or did Carlos tell him? All you really knew was that your brother had flown out plenty of times to attend races, so you knew that they were still in contact, and by the looks of it, good friends. He’d invited you along the first few times, only stopping when your polite no’s had turned into snapping.

“What are you thinking about?” Carlos voice brought you out of your thoughts and you realised he’d been looking at your face the entire time, trying to read your thoughts when your eyebrows furrowed.

“Does he know?” You asked and Carlos looked confused for exactly two seconds before his eyebrows smoothed out, a humourless smile twitching his lip as he gazed out at the ocean in front of you.

He pulled up both legs, resting his forearms on his knees and clutching his hands together.

“Yes.” He said and your stomach dropped a little. “He came to a race in Miami a year ago and I felt… guilty. He was talking about how you should come to a race sometime and how concerned he was for you.”

Your eyebrows jumped. Your brother knew. How much did he know? He hadn’t even brought it up with you, not once.

“I told him.” He let out a laugh with no real joy behind it. “He punched me, called me a motherfucker and left.”

Your mouth gaped open as you took in the new information, eyebrows raised so high that you were scared they’d get stuck in your hairline but you couldn’t bring yourself to relax.

You had never really been that close to your brother, close enough to spend some time in the same circle of friends whenever it was called for but you weren’t sit down and talk about your feelings close. It shouldn’t have surprised you that he hadn’t reached out to you and spoke to you about how you’d fucked his best friend, but he hadn’t treated you any different the past year. He still called and texted to check on you, expressing his worry whenever you gave him the old I’m fine reply. Now you knew why he’d been so gentle with you.

“I deserved it.” Carlos said after a stretch of silence, looking at you.

It made you sad for him then, and a little ashamed of yourself that you’d never stopped to consider how Carlos had felt in all of this. You’d always thought that he ran because he couldn’t deal with turning you down gently, but looking at him now? He was clearly struggling as well.

“You didn’t.” You said and Carlos pulled a face like he didn’t believe you. “I’m just a little horrified that my brother knows I slept with his best friend.”

The both of you smiled at each other.

“It’s not his business, anyway.” Carlos said, leaning his weight to one side so he could bump his shoulder against yours. “Just you and me, ¿verdad?”

“Sí.” You smiled like the words he was saying didn’t turn your stomach inside out.

Carlos looked straight ahead, and you scooted closer to him with a shiver, still cold and wet. He didn’t even hesitate to put his arm around you when your sides pressed together, leaning your head against his shoulder and basking in his warmth when a breeze blew by.

Your stomach was doing somersaults, twisting with nerves and a sense of giddiness and you really hoped that he couldn’t hear the harsh pound of your heart against your rib cage when he turned his head to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Te amo, nena.” He whispered, faint and intimate but it still felt like he’d reached into your bones and rattled them with a violent shake.

Hearing the quiet love confession come from his mouth stunned you, hope blooming in your chest as you picked your head up to take a look at his face. He was close, so close, and the inviting pout of his lips made it all the more difficult to resist pressing your lips against them.

Carlos inhaled sharply through his nose when you grazed your lips against his, a whisper of a touch that electrified you to the core. The arm around you tightened, pressing you closer as your noses brushed.

“Kiss me.” You whispered and Carlos did exactly that.

The press of his lips made you warm all over, hands coming up to clutch his hoodie when he pried your lips open; the touch of tongues making you push harder. It felt a lot like coming home, like universe had aligned itself, and you basked in the feeling of it all.

“Nena.” Carlos murmured when the kiss reached its end, lips touching yours as he spoke. He pushed his forehead to yours, eyelashes laying so pretty on the tops of his cheeks as he closed his eyelids. “I want you, I’ve wanted you for years. But maybe we should take things slow.”

You nodded, though you couldn’t resist stealing another kiss that he was all too eager to respond to. A groan rumbled in his chest when you placed both hands on his wide shoulders, letting him guide you to lay down on the sand.

It wasn’t as dark as it had been when you first arrived, but the faint light cast an almost beautiful shadow to his face as he hovered above you. His eyes were dark pools, staring into yours while his hand brushed wet strands of hair from your face. He crooked them behind your ear, cupping your cheek to bring you up for another kiss that had you whimpering for more.

Take things slow. Wasn’t two years enough? How much longer were you supposed to wait?

Carlos must’ve shared that sentiment, trailing his lips down your jaw to your throat in sucking kisses. He licked your skin, tongue warm against your flesh as he tasted the saltwater and you squirmed at the touch.

“Need you, Carlos.” You murmured when he pulled away.

He laughed breathlessly like he couldn’t believe the words you were saying, a hand travelling down your body with his eyes fastened on yours. You didn’t even dare to blink, staring at him until his hand found its way into your shorts and underwear, brushing his finger against your clit. Your eyelids fluttered shut, mouth going slack when he swiped his fingers through the mess of wet, bringing them back to circle your clit.

You grabbed him with terse hands, gasping and moaning while he brought you to a quick climax. It was sudden and fast, absolutely earth shattering when you climbed up to the edge and toppled right over. Carlos silenced your moans with his mouth, not kissing, just slotted over yours as he stole your breath and sounds.

“You sound beautiful, nena.” He murmured, fingertip nudging your sensitive clit just to see the way your mouth dropped open in a shivered gasp. “Missed that look on your face.”

“Carlos.” Your voice sounded pleading, hand sliding to the back of his head to bury your fingers in his hair. “Want you right now. Please.”

He let out a shuddered breath, pulling his hand out of your shorts to unbutton his jeans and zip them down far enough to fish himself out. You struggled to not stare down between the two of you as you kicked your shorts and panties off, marvelling in the sounds he made as he spit in his hand and jacked himself off; slicking himself up generously.

There was a moment where you looked at each other, unblinking and silent. His cock slid against you, slicking himself up further before his head caught where you were clenching in anticipation. It was stupid and reckless, to not use protection and to even do it so publicly but you needed him.

You couldn’t wait for another hour, and neither could he, judging by the way he slid inside with a gasped breath. Your eyes clenched shut as the intrusion locked your body up, finding comfort in his hands as he brushed your face and pressed kisses to it. You relaxed, feeling the girth of him stretching you out the further he pushed inside.

It had been a while since someone had stretched you to your limits like he currently was, but you were eager to feel every inch of him and you made it clear by wrapping your arms around him, spreading your legs further like an invitation.

Carlos let out a breathless laugh, pushing his lips against yours in a loving kiss and you lost yourself in it as he began thrusting. He hit you deep, kissed your spot with the head of his cock and the coarse hair of his groin rubbed deliciously against your clit.

It wasn’t romantic, not something you’d see in movies, but it was intimate and perfect for you. He conveyed so much in the movement of his hips, eyes stuck on you like he didn’t dare to look away in fear of missing every twitch and movement of your face.

You got a hand between the two of you, moaning and gasping when your second orgasm crept up on you. It made your head spin, how fast you’d been brought to the edge yet again and you clenched around him, screaming out your climax. Carlos wasn’t far behind, all kinds of curses streaming from his lips as he pulled out and came on your lower abdomen.

The stark contrast of his warmth against your cool skin made you shiver, still struggling to come down from your high. Carlos let out a drawn out groan that screamed of sudden exhaustion, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket to wipe the come off your skin before he dropped down; Half on top of you and half on the sand.

“Where are you staying?” You asked, voice a little raspy from how dry your throat was.

“My parents house.” He replied, eyes taking in the slope of your nose and the pout of your bitten raw lips.

You turned your head to smile at him, eyes fluttering as he pushed forward to kiss your mouth.

“You can stay with me.” Your voice was timid, a little shy and it made Carlos smile.

“Bueno.”

Carlos’ hand found your collarbone, stroking the pads of his fingers against the raised bone. His eyes caught on the glimmering necklace around your throat, heart stopping for a split second when the pendant caught the light and he realised what he was looking at.

The number 55 was staring up at him, so small but so glaringly obvious that he wondered how he’d failed to notice it.

You must’ve sensed his body language shift, eyes flicking over his face where it remained unmoving.

“I wanted to keep you close to my heart.” You whispered and it was like gospel to Carlos’ ears. “I never stopped loving you.”

His eyes flicked up to yours, face softening even more.

“Neither did I.”

He thought of the years he’d lived through without you, thinking of the missed time and opportunity he could’ve had with you if he had just picked up the phone. But it didn’t matter now.

Carlos gazed at your face, at the stars reflected in your eyes, and made a vow to himself to never let you slip away again.

#carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz jr x female reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz fic #f1 fluff #f1 smut #f1 fic #carlos sainz angst

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kentopedia · 10 months

Text

piece of cake

FEATURING. nanami kento x f!reader — wc: 9.8k

SUMMARY: nanami can't help but notice your strange behavior, and he begins to grow suspicious (aka you throw him a surprise birthday party)

CONTENTS: sorcerer!reader, nanami's bday, husband nanami, reader & nanami povs, gojo being the bestest friend, also everyone loves nanamin!! very very light angst, slight misunderstandings, and ofc nanami being the love of my life. sfw!!!

note: this ended up way longer than i intended! the ending is a bit rushed, but i really wanted to finish it before his birthday ended. i love this sweet man so much :(

Nanami didn’t want to be that kind of man.

He knew that letting his thoughts wander into accusations were a one-way ticket to unfounded miscommunication. It was senseless to even go there; coming up with wild solutions that he couldn’t back up would only cause problems that didn’t need to happen in the first place.

With his whole heart, Nanami trusted you. He loved you, and he had never doubted that you felt the same. Honesty was important, and you were both mature enough to understand that communication was the only way to make a relationship work.

He reminded himself of that whenever his mind was clouded with uncertainty.

There was still a small twinge of doubt that wouldn’t leave him alone, and day after day, it became more and more difficult to convince himself that he wasn’t concerned. Every time he tried to speak with you about your strange behavior, you’d talked him into circles, bringing him right back to the beginning of the question like he’d never asked it at all.

Nanami tried to tell himself he was creating something out of nothing, but for weeks, you’d been coming home late, you were always on the phone, and he would have been an optimist or an idiot if he truly believed you weren’t hiding something.

When he really put his mind to it, he could stop himself from coming to unfathomable conclusions. You’d never given him reason to doubt you, even if your behavior had become suspicious as of late.

What he couldn’t diminish was the deeply buried fear that, maybe, you wanted someone more than him.

The entire mess had started just a month ago, when he’d stumbled into the lounge at the high school, a book tucked under his arm and a coffee in his hand. Lunch hour had just ended.

Nanami visited you at the school often, and at this time, you were almost always training Maki, or switching off a class with another sorcerer. Your schedule rarely deviated, and if you weren’t in the middle of teaching, it was because they’d needed you elsewhere.

So, of course, he was surprised to see you were doing neither of those things. Instead, you were in the lounge with Gojo, talking in hushed voices while you stood strangely close to one another.

Your back was turned towards the door when Nanami entered, and you gesticulated wildly with your hands. Between your speed and the low volume of your voice, Nanami couldn’t catch a word of what you were saying. It was obvious that you were excited, and Gojo leaned up against the back counter with an indulgent smile, placing his fingertips to his chin thoughtfully.

Nanami wasn’t sure whether or not to announce his presence, so he let the door slam shut behind him, breaking up your enigmatic conversation.

You whipped around in surprise, your eyes wide. In a similar manner, Gojo’s head darted up like he had no idea Nanami had entered at all. The scene would’ve been comical if it hadn’t been so unfamiliar.

“Nanamin!” Gojo stumbled around the first syllable of his name before recovering smoothly, smiling that cheeky grin of his. “When did you get in? I thought your assignment wasn’t until later this afternoon?”

As Nanami slid into the room, he glanced between you and Gojo with pinched eyebrows, attempting to ignore his unusually awkward behavior. Gojo slid across the countertop, slowly inching away from you until he hit the edge.

“Kento!” you said, in a voice that was much squeakier than your normal tone as you shattered the silence. “You’re here early.”

Nanami had long since given up on trying to understand Gojo Satoru’s behavior, but you were a different case entirely. Your smile was lopsided and uncomfortable, and you wiped your hands on your sides like you weren’t sure what to do with them.

He couldn’t tell if you were disappointed or glad to see him. His features pinched tighter, and he shook off the nasty voice of mistrust that threatened to cloud his logical mind. “I’ve been asked to take Itadori with me today. Apparently, someone’s been telling the principal that I’m a good influence on him.” He took off his glasses, meeting your eyes pointedly. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

You smiled sheepishly, drawing closer to him like a magnet. As you left Gojo’s side to stand beside Nanami, that sharp coil of irritation within him released. The lines in his forehead smoothed, and everything was just as it should be.

“I had nothing to do with this,” you said with a small shrug, fixing the tie that was already straight, as if looking for a reason to touch him. “What would make you think that?”

Nanami rolled his eyes at you, knowing you’d had everything to do with it, and gave you an exasperated smile.

You released his lapels shortly after to check the time and frowned when you realized how late it had gotten. “I have to go.” You pecked him on the cheek with a grin, and though Gojo was watching from behind the dark blindfold, Nanami couldn’t bring himself to care. “Maki’s meeting me soon, and I don’t want to make her wait. See you later, Kento.”

He squeezed your hand, the action almost imperceptible as you waved to the other man over your shoulder. “Bye, Gojo.”

Gojo returned the action, his lips pulled together playfully as he returned his focus to Nanami. Although he’d seen the two of you together on numerous occasions, his favorite pastime was teasing the younger man about any sign of affection.

Nanami sighed, suspecting that he’d have to tolerate Gojo for the next half-hour until Itadori was back. He took a long sip of coffee that scalded his throat and sat down on the couch.

The silence lasted until Gojo crept unfortunately closer, lurking like a cat until Nanami huffed, the sign of irritation that Gojo had been waiting for. The white-haired man drew out Nanami’s name like a song, and then plopped himself down on the chair across from him, blabbering on about things that Nanami really didn’t want to listen to.

When he realized five minutes had passed without Gojo even taking a breath, he gritted his teeth, and leaned back in the chair. “I didn’t realize you were such good friends with my wife.”

That wasn’t entirely the truth. Nanami had known that you’d gotten closer to Gojo since you’d started working for the school part-time, but you talked about him about as often as you talked about your other colleagues. About as much as Nanami talked about Gojo.

You’d never made it seem like he was the type of person you swapped secrets with in the lounge while everyone else was off on a break.

“Really?” Gojo drew out the word dramatically, his mouth curling into a pout. “I’d say we’re good friends, actually.” He tipped his head back, leaning against the chair with uncharacteristic seriousness. “We mostly talk about you, though. I know you better than I know her.”

“That’s a shame.” Nanami flipped the page, finishing the last bit of his coffee, and feigned irritation, even if he was warmed by the thought of you talking about him so much. “She’s much more interesting than me.”

Gojo laughed, and it seemed to be genuine. Nanami began to grow frightened that he might actually be roped into an actual, amicable conversation with the man.

“Aww,” he cooed sympathetically. “Don’t worry, Nanamin. I know you’re probably worried we’ll become better friends, but you were my friend first.”

Nanami glanced up, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Trust me, I’m really not worried about that.” He kicked his leg out, the beginnings of a headache forming in his temple. “I’m more concerned that she’ll invite you over for dinner. I’d like to refrain from any interactions with you outside of work.”

Gojo made a face and then whined dramatically. “You’re so mean to me.” He wiped a hand over his eyes like he was shedding tears.

Nanami sighed.

A few days later, when he took Itadori out for another training session, he began asking Nanami too many questions about his personal life. That fact wasn’t as suspicious as it was frustrating. He couldn’t help that Itadori was curious, but he could’ve asked him these things on the ride over, or while they were at the school.

Invasive questions in the middle of a potential life or death situation were not exactly ones Nanami wanted to tolerate.

“So… what kind of places do you like to shop?”

The question was completely unrelated to his lesson and completely out of the blue. Nanami stopped, eyeing the teenager with undisguised skepticism. “Itadori. I’m not answering that kind of question when we’re in the middle of something serious.” He thought about his words, and quickly rephrased them. “Actually, I’m not answering that question at all.”

Itadori stared back, his face falling theatrically. Nanami could’ve guessed from that expression alone that he’d been spending far too much time with Gojo. “Fine.” He relented, drawing out the word as he scurried to catch up with Nanami, who was already paces ahead.

He let a few minutes pass before his next question.

“Where are your favorite places to eat?”

Nanami closed his eyes to regain his patience. “I’m not answering that either.”

A huff of disappointment. “Well, can I ask about your favorite—”

“No.”

Itadori’s glower turned into something more like a realistic frowny face. Nanami tried to refrain from snapping at him in order to regain his focus. “What can I ask?”

“Anything that you will gain valuable insight from.” Itadori opened his mouth, and Nanami quickly sensed his next words. “Insight that isn’t about me.”

He deflated once more. “Okay, fine.” For a few more moments, he surrendered, letting the conversation stall. Nanami should’ve known better than to expect peace and quiet for long. “So… what days will you be going on assignments? Do you have like… a set schedule, or do you usually get called in?”

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, hearing the creak of a floorboard upstairs. There were curses nearby, and if Itadori continued yammering on without paying attention, that would spell a lot of trouble for him and the kid. “Why are you asking me this?”

“I’m just curious.”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you now isn’t the time.”

Itadori opened his mouth, but then seemed to register the sound of cursed spirits, and he finally sobered his attention. His expression changed to one of seriousness, and, thankfully, he let the topic go.

After a particularly stressful mission, Nanami went to the bakery that the two of you frequented, the one that had been the site of many of your dates throughout the years.

It was a quiet little café at the edge of the city, a perfect middle-ground between your home and the school. When he’d been working in the office, and you were still a sorcerer, you’d met him there on numerous occasions, usually bruised and battered, but never without a beautiful smile.

He stretched his back behind him as he headed through the door, his clothes dirtied from fighting and his hair in disarray. It was barely afternoon, and he was already exhausted, wanting just to go home and curl in bed to await your return.

It was a small daydream that would carry him through his last few hours of working, so long as no cursed spirits popped up in his vicinity of patrolling. There seemed to be more and more lately, and if he wasn’t being called off to go fight, then you were, leaving no time for either of you to be with each other.

As he crossed the threshold, another man was exiting, seemingly in a big hurry and carrying a coffee that he almost splashed all over Nanami’s chest.

Reeling in his irritation, Nanami began a polite, “Excuse me,” before realizing who had nearly trampled over him. “Gojo. What are you doing here.”

“What a coincidence seeing you here,” Gojo greeted with a wide grin, like he wasn’t the one infiltrating one of Nanami’s sacred, headache-free spaces.

Nanami cringed, looking at the coffee in Gojo’s hand and the white pastry bag, immediately recognizing the contents. It was your favorite drink, the dessert you got once a week; you’d been ordering the same thing for the past two months, always getting hooked on new things before you eventually tired of them. He knew the order by heart.

“Sorry, I really wish I could stay and chat, but I’ve got important goods to deliver.” He held up the bag and the cup, a receipt folded up between his fingers. Bitterly, Nanami noticed he hadn’t bought anything for himself. For someone with such a sweet tooth, it seemed hard to believe that he’d refrained from indulging.

Which, Nanami concluded with annoyance, meant that he’d come specifically for you. He checked his watch, pushing away the negative emotions. Even though you could’ve called him if you wanted something, like you always did, you’d asked Gojo instead. “She’s not on a break?”

“Some students wanted her help with some things. I told her I didn’t mind getting her something if she wanted to take a break later this afternoon.” Gojo flattened his blindfold over his eyes, the material bunching up around his nose. “Everyone’s out today, anyway.”

“I see,” Nanami said, hating the unnecessary sting in his chest. You knew he’d been working, and even though he told you where he was going, you probably hadn’t seen the message. If you were busy, then he couldn’t expect you to be checking your phone. “Well, tell her I said hello, then.”

“Will do,” Gojo saluted cartoonishly and flitted out the door, smiling with a kind of glee that Nanami, stupidly, wanted to wipe off his face.

Those separate incidents with Gojo had annoyed him, of course, but he knew they weren’t anything to get worked up about. In fact, he’d almost forgotten about the interactions entirely, until another week passed and Nanami slowly started to wonder if you spent more time with the white-haired man than the one you were in a relationship with.

You’d woken up before him that morning, and Nanami opened his eyes to a colder bed and the sound of hushed music softly playing from behind the bathroom door.

It was a cooler day for June. You’d opened the window, and there were dark clouds gathering in the sky, a sign that it was going to storm any time now. He stretched his stiff back, padding to the hallway, where he could see the light coming from the bathroom, the door cracked open. The smell of your perfume wafted through, and Nanami had half a sense to drag you back to the bed and keep you there until the weekend was over.

He pushed the door open further, leaning against the threshold to watch you swipe pink gloss over your puckered lips. Your makeup was freshly powdered, your hair done up in its usual manner.

Nanami smiled, leaning against the door frame as he watched you finish getting ready. “Where are you going this morning, pretty girl?”

You blinked at him through the mirror, putting the tube of lip gloss back in the bag before turning to him with a smile. You looked so sweet, and he yearned for you, almost in disbelief that you’d been together for so long. “I’m taking the kids shopping in the city with Gojo today.” You wrapped your arms around his stomach, tilting your head back to look up at him. “I’ll be home before dinner. Want me to cook tonight?”

Nanami brushed your cheek, feeling that annoying wave of irritation return to claw at him. He didn’t care that you were spending time with Gojo—he shouldn’t care. Your students would be there too, and you’d been happier ever since you started working at the school. The first and second years cared about you so much already, and Gojo was a much less annoying friend to you than he was to Nanami.

He liked seeing you so happy, despite the toll that the job often took on you. “Don’t worry about it. We need to pick up groceries, anyway. I’ll do that while you’re out.”

Your smile widened, and you leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips. Although you’d meant for it to be quick, Nanami had wrapped an arm around your lower back, pressing you closer, deepening the kiss. He ruined your lipstick, smearing it all over his mouth, but he didn’t care.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered against your mouth, holding you close to him.

“I’m still in my pajamas.” You laughed, your cheeks growing warm as you drew away from him, teasingly dodging his final kiss. “Are you sure you won’t miss me too much when I’m gone?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’ll probably miss you too much.” As you fixed your lipstick, Nanami went back to the bedroom, rifling through his coat pocket for his wallet. He tossed the gold card on the bathroom counter, where your purse was laying.

You eyed him over your shoulder. “No.”

He stared back, just as seriously. “Yes. Buy yourself something nice, sweetheart.” He thought of the young teenager he’d been mentoring, who’d been putting in his best effort, and who he’d, unfortunately, come to care about quite a lot. “Itadori too. Just don’t tell him it’s from me.”

You blinked, before your expression changed into something so bright, Nanami would’ve done everything in his power to keep it there. “I knew you liked him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

With an affection so full that it threatened to burst out of your chest, you jumped towards him, wrapping yourself up in his arms. He kissed your temple and breathed, remembering just how much he didn’t want to lose you.

You were true to your word, always. You came back when you promised, you told him where you were going, but Nanami noticed that you’d been even more secretive since you went shopping with Gojo and your students. When he asked your plans, you were even more vague. When you didn’t return with any shopping bags, he found it odd that you smelled of a cologne he didn’t wear.

He reminded himself of how much he trusted you—he really, really didn’t think you would lie to him, but he couldn’t deny that your behavior was confusing him.

Nanami finished off his tea, eyes across the room as he watched you type wildly on your phone, your brows crinkled. You sent a message then waited for a response, impatiently pacing across the kitchen.

He called your name, but you didn’t respond, too enraptured in whatever it was that you were doing. You seemed to be attached to your cell phone these days, always having a call to respond to, and always jumping when he was a little too close to seeing your messages.

Yesterday, Gojo’s name had popped up on your screen with a message, and you’d crawled across Nanami’s lap to get the phone before he could even think to hand it to you. Nanami had done nothing but stare back at you, and you’d smiled at him, embarrassed, still hiding the screen from him as you read the message.

He really, really didn’t want to jump to conclusions. But these days, you were spending all your free time with Gojo, and you grew defensive every time he tried to bring it up.

“Are you done with the tea?” Nanami asked again, piling up the dirty dishes from where he sat, noticing your cup was still half-full, but lukewarm.

You chewed your thumbnail anxiously, bouncing your leg as you waited for the person on the other end to reply. The phone shook in your hands, and you read through it again, obviously disappointed by the short response. He could’ve guessed who you were talking to, even if he didn’t want to.

Nanami frowned and called your name one more time. Finally, you looked up.

“What?” you asked, and then came to understand his question. The tea sat, unenjoyed, and shame marred your features. “Oh. I’m sorry. No, I’m not finished.” You frowned, tucking the phone back into your pocket before rushing over to your seat. “I didn’t mean to…” you trailed off, and Nanami stared, waiting for you to finish your explanation, even though you let it die there. “It’s been busy at work.”

Nanami hated how easily he could tell you were lying. He sighed, rubbing his temples as your phone rang again. This time, though, you kept it in your pocket.

It had been like that for the past couple of days. He closed his eyes, trying to come up with any possible explanation other than the most distressing one.

“Kento?” you asked in a small voice, noting his obvious discontent. “Is everything alright?”

He looked up at you, your eyes so wide and full of concern, and even if he wanted to be mad at you, he couldn’t. His chin fell, arms resting limply at his sides as you looked back at him, waiting for a response. “Is everything alright with you?”

“I’m okay,” you said, shifting where you stood. “Just busy. Like I said.”

The two of you stared at each other, waiting for the other to say what they really wanted to. Never once in your life had you had a problem with communicating, but it felt like now, you were hitting a wall.

All he could do was try his best. If you didn’t want to answer him, he couldn’t make you.

“Okay,” he said, taking your hand in his own. He brought it to his lips and kissed your palm, then the inside of your wrist, before massaging the center of it. “I don’t want you to feel like you need to keep secrets from me. If anything…” he steadied himself for his next words. “If anything changes between us, you can tell me. I’ll understand.”

Your eyebrows creased, before understanding seemed to dawn upon you. “Kento,” you said, dropping his hand to come around the table to climb into his lap, placing your hands on both of his cheeks. “Kento, no.”

“You’ve just been a bit—”

“I’m sorry,” you said, and he couldn’t help but draw back into you, smile when you kissed him all over his face, pressing the affirmations into his skin. “I’m not trying to be distant, really. Things are just busy right now, I promise.” You curled your fingers into his hair, scratching at his scalp, and Nanami brought his arms around your hips, settling you on his thighs.

“Okay. I just wanted to make sure.” His eyes softened at your frown, and he brushed his thumb under your shirt, grounding himself against your skin. “I love you.”

That put a smile back on your face, and you kissed him, whispering the same words against his lips.

Now, though he wasn’t so sure he believed what you were saying, as much as he wanted to. Maybe you were just busy at work, but you were certainly hiding something from him.

He knew that everyone had their secrets, but maybe it would’ve stung less if you’d just admitted you were hiding something from him.

The following week was the same routine, and as the workdays ended, Nanami saw you less and less each evening. You spent the majority of your time in the city center, and though you were often with your students, you were also with Gojo, and something about that fact was difficult to swallow.

Nanami felt a little sour that you never asked him to go too. He began to wonder if you were purposefully avoiding him, or if the students disliked him as much as he’d thought they did.

It was stupid, he knew it was stupid, and he didn’t want to be overbearing, to seem like he was the kind of man who wanted to control where you were going and spending your time with. He just wished you spared a little bit more of it for him, was all.

He woke with that thought in his mind as he rolled over on the cold bed, reaching out to wrap his arms around you. When he realized the spot beside him was empty, he blinked himself awake wearily, adjusting his eyes to the dark.

The hall light was on, a yellow glow peeking through the cracks under the door, and he frowned as he heard the sound of your voice, low and hushed.

Nanami weighed his decision. It was almost two o’clock in the morning, and though you often went to bed much later than him, a phone call at this time was pushing it. He climbed out of the bed, padding quietly over the door to see if he could catch a part of the conversation.

It felt like a breach of trust, and he didn’t want to seem like he was spying on you.

He pressed his ear to the door, waiting for your voice, though it was silent. Half a minute passed. His hands curled around the knob, and he shouldn’t be trying to listen in, he should just go out there and ask you if anything was wrong, and then—

“Gojo, I don’t know what to tell him.”

Nanami stopped, swallowing down his breath to still all noises from his body. He squeezed his fist tighter until his knuckles had gone pale, hearing you murmur under your breath. There were a lot of words he couldn’t catch, and he wrinkled his forehead, trying to catch a hint of context in what you were saying.

“I’m not very good at lying to him, and if he finds out—”

Your voice dropped quiet again.

Nanami felt something fall in his chest as he released the doorknob. He was too tired to think about it rationally, and if he listened anymore, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

He stepped away from the door, his lips etched permanently into a frown.

After Kento had fallen asleep, you’d grabbed your phone off the nightstand, going through the to-do list that you’d created for his birthday.

You hadn’t meant for it to get so out-of-hand. He didn’t usually like big celebrations, and he’d never made a big deal of his birthday in the past. Though in your eyes, that was exactly why you needed to do something different for him this year.

Things had been going so well, and from what you could tell, everyone in your close circle cared about him more than he realized. It was the only way you could think to show that to him.

You’d just wanted to do something special for him, and it had turned into long shopping trips with Satoru Gojo, and secretive meetings with your students to make sure everything went exactly as you’d planned it.

And things were going according to plan… Only, you were starting to feel like your attempts at secrecy were sabotaging your relationship, and you feared that Kento thought the worst of your late nights out and your newly formed friendship with Gojo.

It was obvious that you were lying, and every time he brought it up, he seemed to become even more doubtful of your actions.

You flipped the hallway light on, dialing Gojo’s number, feeling antsy in your own skin. After two rings, he answered, his voice groggy and obviously full of sleep.

“Hello?”

“Gojo,” you said in a panic, rubbing your hand over your face with a kind of distress that he couldn’t even see. “I don’t know what to tell him.”

A beat of silence as he gathered his thoughts. “What?”

You almost felt bad for waking him up, but part of this was his fault. He’d been insistent on being a part of the plan, and now, he needed to listen to your apprehensions about the entire situation. He hadn’t exactly been sneaky either.

“Kento.” you said, pacing back and forth in the hallway, your voice rising to a high-pitched shriek, even as you tried to muffle your words. “He’s been asking me so many questions, and I’m so bad at coming up with answers. I’m seeming like a horrible person.”

Gojo hummed on the other line, and you hated how nonchalant he seemed about all of this. This was your relationship, and he was just sitting happily in his home, with the receipt for a cake that had cost way too much, and gifts for a man that had started to doubt you even cared about him at all. “Well…”

“Gojo,” you said his name again, sternly.

“Sorry.” He sighed. “Nanami’s a tough person to keep a secret from. Just keep telling him what you’ve been telling him: we’ve been assigned to more cases together, work is too busy, et cetera, et cetera. That’s fine.”

“But he knows that’s not true.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, frustration prickling at you. Either Kento was much too perceptive for his own good, or you were just awful at planning surprises. “I’m being too suspicious. I’m not very good at lying to him, and if he finds out, then all the secrecy would have been for nothing.”

Gojo was silent on the other end of the other line. It seemed he was absolutely horrible at consoling you, unlike the man in the other room who was sleeping soundly, unbeknownst to the fact that you were doing this all for him. “Look, it’s only for a couple more days, right? You can keep the secret until then, can’t you?”

You swallowed, steeling yourself for one last week of misery. You weren’t sure you could continue to stand the look of disappointment on Kento’s face every time you did something out of character. “I guess so. Thanks.” You yawned, rubbing your eyes. “Sorry, I woke you up, didn’t I?”

“Don’t worry about it. Goodnight.” He hung up, and you stared at the phone once more, trudging back into the other room.

You couldn’t help the guilt that had settled deep in your gut. Even if you were lying to Kento for something special, you knew how it looked on your end. You weren’t good at dispelling his accusations; every time you opened your mouth, you just incriminated yourself more.

You couldn’t wait until his birthday. Things would go back to normal, then, and he could finally see that everyone cared about him more deeply than he realized.

Rubbing your eyes with exhaustion, you crawled back into the space where you always slept. Although, this time, you realized Kento was not asleep like you’d left him but was blinking back at you with concern in his dark eyes.

You jumped, startled for a moment, before settling back down. “Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

“It’s okay.” He grasped your hand tightly, and you let him, let him drag you close in his arms as he curled around you. “Is something wrong?”

You tensed, and immediately realized that was a mistake. Fuck. You were so horrible at this. You should’ve just let Gojo and Itadori plan the entire thing, and maybe it would’ve been a disaster, but it also would’ve saved you a lot of unnecessary anxiety. “Everything’s fine.”

That didn’t exactly answer his question. Nanami turned on his side, the two of you staring face to face on the pillows. There was a wrinkle between his eyebrows, his eyes darting to each one of yours like he was trying to decipher a message. Then, he sighed. “Was… someone calling?”

“Just Gojo.”

“Gojo?” Nanami repeated, and though he seemed annoyed at the mention of him, at least he knew you were being honest about that. “Why the hell is Gojo calling you in the middle of the night?”

You blinked, realizing you actually had no good lie to cover that one. “Umm…” you played with Nanami’s hand, tracing the tendons and knuckles as he stared back at you patiently. “He wanted to know if I could cover for him in the morning. He’s… not feeling so well.”

You’d have to text him immediately so that he didn’t come to the school until later. Not that he would mind skipping out on a few hours of work, but even that didn’t seem to convince Kento. He opened his mouth, and shut it, as if trying to carefully put his words together. “That’s all?”

He said it in a way that made you think he was giving you an opening, like you had the option to tell him the truth if you wanted. Of course, you couldn’t reveal what you were hiding, but he didn’t know that.

You sighed, and smiled, kissing him as you curled your hands into his hair. “That’s all, Ken. I really am sorry I woke you up.”

Nanami stared back at you for a moment before forcing a smile, returning your kiss with all his fondness. He brushed your hair away from your face and kissed your cheeks before closing his eyes once more.

When the day of Nanami’s birthday arrived, you promised yourself that you wouldn’t panic if everything wasn’t perfect. He’d appreciate the sentiment, no matter what. Things didn’t have to go by the book for them to be meaningful.

Regardless, you went through your mental to-do sheet, made the final reservation for your dinner, and prayed that everything went as you intended.

Though you were usually not a morning person, you’d gotten up earlier than Kento to fix his coffee the way he always preferred, taking a quiet moment to still your excited nerves. When his usual alarm went off, at the same time every morning, you carried the mug back with you to the bedroom and smiled softly at his sleepy form.

You set the coffee down before he could fully gain consciousness, and sprang on top of him, peppering kisses all over his face until his surprise slowly melted, and he was hugging you tightly.

“Happy birthday.”

Kento smiled up at you groggily, his eyes still drooping with sleep as he curled a hand around your jaw. He pressed a soft kiss to your mouth, hugging you tight as he whispered, “thank you,” the touch of the words barely there at all.

You relaxed in his presence, sitting back as you handed him the coffee, to which his expression grew even more gentle. He brushed your hair out of your face and kissed you again on the forehead, making you melt, just as he always did.

“What do you want to do today?” you asked as you laid on his chest, staring up at him with every ounce of love you had to offer. “I have dinner reservations, but you’ve got all day until then.”

Nanami laughed, curling a strand of your hair around his finger. “It doesn’t matter. We can just spend it like any normal day.”

You frowned. “That’s not anything special. It’s your birthday.”

“It’s just a birthday.” He squeezed your arm before maneuvering you gently off of him so that he could sit up on the bed. “Besides, every moment I spend with you is special. I’m happy to just sit around and do nothing until dinner.” Kento seemed to notice your displeased expression, even though your heart had swelled at his comment. “Unless there was something you wanted to do instead…”

He climbed out of the bed, taking one sip of the steaming coffee before setting it back down.

“It’s not my birthday.” You watched him gather his clothes up off the floor with a sigh, the muscles in his back clenching as he bent over. “I want to do what you want to do.”

“And I told you I didn’t care.” He smiled playfully at you, tugging his shirt on over his head. Then, he reached over and squeezed your hand, coming back to where you sat, your legs swung over the side of the mattress.

“Kento.” You pulled him back down with a pointed expression, your faces close, lips almost touching. “I’m serious.”

He stared back at you for a moment, before relenting. “Alright.” Kento bent down, kissing you once more before going into the bathroom. “Let me shower, and we’ll go get some breakfast. How does that sound?”

“Is that what you want to do?” you asked, eyebrows raised.

Although you could tell he was amused by your insistence, he softened, his eyes melting into hearts as he turned. “That’s what I want to do. Happy?”

“Very.” You shoved him away, laughing. “Go take a shower. You’re not getting any younger.”

He rolled his eyes and retreated into the bathroom, the door shutting softly behind him.

When the water started running and Kento was definitely in the shower, you hurriedly dialed Gojo’s number, begging him to pick up. After the third dial, when you were certain he wouldn’t answer, a short tone cut through the line.

“What’s wrong?” he answered, clearly amused. There was shuffling on the other end, and some sort of yelp. Your brows pinched together.

As you listened closely to make sure the shower water wouldn’t turn off unexpectedly, you frowned. Your leg shook with anticipation. “What do you mean? I’m fine.”

Gojo released a breath, though his voice grew mumbled on the other end. “Well, you normally only call me if you’re panicking about the birthday situation, so—”

There was a scream. You dragged your hand down your face, as he said something sharply to someone on the other side of the call.

“Gojo?”

“Yeah?” Another sound, this one of extreme pain. “Sorry, I’m in the middle of something.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re exorcising a curse right now.”

He paused, and then the sound stopped, everything going silent on his side. “Well… I’m not anymore.”

You wanted to say that you were shocked he’d bothered to pick up the phone at all, but… You weren’t, really. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Unfortunately, cursed spirits don’t know it’s Nanamin’s birthday, so they just keep coming.” He sighed. “What a bummer. If they were nicer, I’d invite them to the birthday party.”

You snorted. “Right. I’m certain Kento would love that.”

Gojo laughed. “So, what were you calling about? If it’s to panic over your much too long list of things for me to do, don’t worry. Everything’s in order.”

“Really? Did you wrap the presents?”

He hummed. “Megumi did.”

You closed your eyes, holding back a sigh. That was probably for the best, anyway. You’d never seen Gojo wrap a gift, but you weren’t sure how it’d look if he did. “Okay… What about the decorations?”

“Itadori is bringing those over once you two leave.”

A part of you wanted to get frustrated with him for doing absolutely nothing, but it wasn’t his fault he had to work, even if he’d promised to help you out. At least he was delegating the tasks. One way or another, it would get done. “Are you going to help him at all?”

“Have a little bit more faith in me than that. You’re hurting my feelings.”

“No I’m not. Did you get him a birthday card?”

“I think Maki offered to do that. And before you ask your next question, yes everyone’s going to be there on time. Kugisaki followed up with everyone.”

“Oh my god… Did you do anything, Satoru?”

“I picked up the cake.” A beat of silence. “Well, I haven’t yet. I’m going right now. I got a little side-tracked.”

He’d given you no reason to doubt him, really. But you were still afraid that something would go wrong, and you’d be left without a cake, in the middle of a very important birthday. “Fine, but just know that I’m texting Megumi in an hour to come check on you. I can only keep Kento out of the house for so long, so you need to make sure it’s perfect.”

“You got it, boss. I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”

Once you’d sent Gojo the final list of things that needed to be done, you put your phone away, promising yourself that it would not be a point of stress while you were at dinner with Nanami. You’d reserved a table at his favorite restaurant and dressed up nicer than you had in a while.

After breakfast, the two of you meandered around the city for the rest of the day until your reservation, as you tried to think of anything that could keep him away from home. Worried that he would catch on, you continued to diffuse his concerns, kissing him with a smile as you pulled him along to the next place you could think of.

And though he’d protested, saying that you didn’t have to dedicate your entire day to him, you couldn’t think of another way that you’d want to be spending it.

When the evening started to fall, you made your way to the restaurant, and the phone buzzed in your bag. You gritted your teeth and ignored it.

“Are you sure we don’t need to go home?” Kento asked you, swinging your hand in his between the two of you. Neither of you had ever been big on public displays of affection, but holding hands through the streets was one of the nicest feelings you’d come to experience. “We have time.”

“No,” you said a little too quickly, and he eyed you curiously, almost stopping in his tracks. “We better get there early, just in case. Don’t you think?”

Kento raised an eyebrow, but then nodded, squeezing your hand. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to be early.” He smiled, humming to himself happily. “You know, you didn’t have to do all of this for me today.”

“I wanted to. I wouldn’t do this for just anyone.” You laughed, but for some reason, there was uncertainty behind his eyes. You felt the phone buzzing more and more in your pocket.

The restaurant was packed, and even though you were early to your reservation, they got you seated immediately.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart. Did I already tell you that?” Nanami said once you were seated.

You flushed, your cheeks growing warm as he stared at you across the table with gentle, brown eyes. “Thanks, Kento,” you said in a quiet voice, knowing that you’d looked much better earlier, when your hair had been perfect, and your makeup hadn’t smudged. Your dress now had some wrinkles, and you were sweating with nerves and the heat outside.

He glanced down at the menu, perusing it, even though he got the same thing every time. You ordered a bottle of wine to split between the two of you.

The server brought the alcohol back and poured it, then took your order back to the kitchen. When Nanami ordered, you dropped your chin in your hands, watching him, distracted by the very sight of him.

He nodded at the younger girl politely, and she grew pink, scurrying off to the next room. Kento looked back at you as you laughed and started up another conversation. You talked about school and work and everything in between, the mood only shattering when you felt the incessant buzz of the phone in your pocket.

You were in the middle of a story, but your sentences started to blend together into something that didn’t make sense. You stumbled over what you were saying, feeling the weight of the phone in your pocket as you tried to refocus on your words, but remained distracted.

The phone buzzed again in your pocket. You gritted your teeth. Fucking Gojo Satoru and his idiotic brain—you’d told him not to contact you.

“Is everything alright?” Kento blinked as you took your phone out and set it in your purse.

“I’m sure it doesn’t matter.”

He hesitated, thoughtful as he swallowed a sip of wine. “Well, I don’t want you to get in any trouble if it’s work.”

“I took off today. If they can’t handle two sorcerers being gone, then they’ve got bigger problems.”

Nanami sighed, drumming his fingers against the table. “I guess that’s true. Speaking of work, I—"

The phone buzzed louder, then there was a pause. It buzzed again. You cringed.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you, but—”

The phone started ringing.

You were close to throwing the bag altogether, and probably would’ve, if it hadn’t been one of the most expensive accessories you owned. Nanami looked down at the bag, then back at you, eyebrows raised.

“Honey…” he said, eyes gesturing to the phone. “Just answer it.”

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you, and you dug your phone out of the bag, Megumi Fushiguro’s name was bold as it lit up on the screen. You held it tightly in your hand and began to stand, feeling sick and horrible and wondering if all the secrecy had just ruined his birthday. “I’m so sorry Kento—"

He shrugged; his voice was solid with gentle patience. “It’s alright. Take your time.”

You nodded, and waited until you were out of earshot to answer the phone, feeling horrible about leaving him all by himself. Once you were in the bathroom, locked in one of the stalls, you answered. “Hello?”

“Itadori dropped the cake.”

You took a breath before answering Megumi’s calm remark, wondering how close you actually were to snapping. “What.”

In the background, the pink-haired boy wailed over and over, loud cries that were, clearly, full of remorse. “It was an accident!” He shouted over Kugisaki’s berating, and you weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry, because that was the last thing you’d expected to happen.

“Itadori dropped the cake,” Megumi repeated, flatly, like you hadn’t gotten it the first time. “It’s all over the floor. Kugisaki’s trying to get him to clean it up, but it’s just making him even more miserable.”

You covered a hand over your mouth, wondering why your eyes were welling up with frustrated tears. Things were not going the way you’d planned. “Is Gojo there yet?”

“Yeah.” Megumi hesitated, and there was a pause, like he was unsure what to do now that he finally had you on the phone. “Want me to put him on?”

You nodded, before realizing that he couldn’t see you, and muttered, “yes.” Within a moment, the older man, currently in charge of three teenagers, was on the line.

“This may or may not be Gojo,” he said, and you were glad that he at least had enough intelligence to sound nervous.

“Satoru.” You tried hard not to panic. “Please, please can you try and find another cake? I know it’s late, but I’m not sure how much longer I can stall here. I’m trying so hard not to be suspicious, but I’m horrible at it.”

“I can try, but—"

“Kento already thinks I’m acting weird, and he keeps asking me questions that I’m doing a very bad job of answering. I feel awful because it’s his birthday, and I’m afraid he thinks I’m just getting ready to split up with him or something.”

“Ouch.” Gojo said dramatically, hissing like he’d been stung. “That’d be a bit of an asshole move, wouldn’t it?”

“Well, I’m obviously not going to do that!” You scrubbed your hands over your face. “He seemed upset today, and I just don’t want all of this to go to waste. Please, Satoru. It doesn’t matter what the cake looks like, but just make sure that you get something, so that—"

“Hey,” he said, dropping the theatrics when you choked back a sob. His tone grew serious. “Take a deep breath. I think you’re forgetting who we’re dealing with here.”

“What do you mean?” You blinked, dabbing your eyes, hoping that your mascara wouldn’t smear.

“Nanami is going to appreciate the gestures, even if they aren’t perfect.”

You inhaled and exhaled, realizing that Satoru was right. Out there was a man that you loved very much, who loved you in return, and this was not as serious as you were making it out to be. “You’re right.”

“Obviously. Enjoy your dinner. I can take care of it.”

“Are you sure? It sounds like a warzone in the background.”

“Everything’s fine,” Gojo swore, even if you didn’t entirely believe him. “I told Megumi not to call you, but he loves getting me in trouble. Please, don’t worry about it.”

You opened your mouth, but Gojo had already hung up.

As you left the stall, you sighed, seeing yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were red with unshed tears, but you’d already made Kento wait long enough.

Twitching nervously, you headed back to the table. Nanami was sitting patiently, scrolling through something mindlessly on his phone.

“Everything okay?” he asked as you sat back down, noticing the signs of tears and misery. He reached for you across the table, but then thought better of it, and just frowned.

“Everything’s fine. I’m just really sorry, Kento.” You looked down at your hands. “I didn’t mean to be so rude. It’s your birthday. I want you to enjoy it.”

A beat of silence passed. He smiled. “I am enjoying it.” He did reach for your hand, then, and pulled it tight against his own. “This has been the best birthday, sweetheart. Why are you upset?”

You swallowed. “I’m not upset.” You shook your head, trying to clear the unhappiness from your expression. “Anyways, what were you saying? I interrupted.”

Nanami’s face fell. You’d changed the subject so quickly; he hadn’t had the chance to ask you any more questions. “Right. Well, nothing important. I just have to be in Kyoto next week.”

You frowned. “All week?”

He nodded. “I wanted to let you know in case you wanted to make plans. You’ve been...” he paused, thinking over his words. “Seeing Gojo a lot lately, so I thought you might want to—”

You stared at him, and realized what he was getting at. Fuck, you felt so horrible. “Oh,” you said, scratching your wrist under the table. “Yeah. Maybe. I’m sure he’ll be busy too.”

That wasn’t the answer Nanami was looking for. He stopped, and then regrouped, nodding. “Well, either way, I wanted you to know. They didn’t give me advanced notice.”

You smiled tightly. “I’m going to miss you.”

“It’s only for a few days,” he said, releasing your hand to place it back onto his lap. “But I’m going to miss you too.” There was something distant in his voice when he said it.

On the way home from the restaurant, Gojo texted you obnoxiously, sending you pictures of the house, the cleanliness of it, the set-up of the gifts, the new cake, and you smiled to yourself, somewhat relieved that things weren’t a complete disaster.

You could feel Kento’s eyes on you as he drove home, his hand resting on your thigh as you turned slightly away from him, keeping his eyes off the screen.

Stop sending me things before he sees my phone.

Gojo’s response was much too quick.

Stop looking at your phone.

You sighed, clicking the screen off and finally relaxing against the window. The secrecy was almost over; you hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to keep this all hidden without causing so much dramatic suspicion.

Nanami pulled into park in front of your home, squeezing your leg gently before releasing it. You expected him to make a move to get out of the car, but instead he sat, contemplative, the key still in the ignition.

You swallowed, looking at him. “Is everything okay?”

He took a breath, turning back to you with some sort of determination in his eyes. “Have I done something to upset you?” he asked, his voice so incredibly gentle.

“What?” you said, laughing nervously. “Why would you ask that?”

His face fell as he looked back at the steering wheel. “I just thought this would be easier if I’d hurt you in some way.”

Your mouth grew dry. You reached for him. “Kento—”

“Look,” he scrubbed a hand through his hair, the strands coming loose, falling onto his forehead. “I’m not trying to… I don’t want to…” His words fell off, and though you knew what he was trying to say, you didn’t want him to say it, because there was no reason for it. “If something’s wrong, I just want to know. Let’s at least try to fix it.”

“Nothing’s wrong, I promise.” You squeezed his hand, trying to pull away from him. “Can we talk about this inside?” You started to get out of the car.

“No, wait.” He stopped you again, eyes wide with disappointment, like he couldn’t get his words out fast enough. “This is what happens every time. I ask you about it, then you find a way to spin my words around so that we never talk about it. I let you every time, because I love you, and I trust you, but I don’t want to lose you.”

Your heart squeezed. “Kento.” You began, feeling bad that you were forced to talk in circles just to get him to believe in your lies. “I promise, we’ll talk about it inside. It’s still your birthday, and I don’t want to ruin it by misunderstanding one another. Please, let’s talk about it once we’re both settled in.”

Nanami’s shoulders stiffened, then deflated, but he didn’t let go of you. “There’s not… Someone else, is there?”

“Of course not.” You said fervently, kissing his hand. “God, Ken. You think I’d want anyone else when I’ve got you?”

He smiled, though it was half-hearted.

“Come on, let’s go inside. I’ll explain everything. I owe you that much.”

You led him into the house, holding his hand tightly, hoping that this went over as you intended. Beside you, he was still contemplative, flicking on the lights as you continued into your home.

“You know, I really think we should still—”

As the lights came on, his words were cut off by some variation of everyone yelling happy birthday, and he blinked back at the students he’d recently met, and all the sorcerers he’d worked with closely in the previous years. His jaw opened, then shut, then he looked at you, then back to Gojo, and you could see the understanding in his features before he’d expressed it, when everything clicked into place.

A moment of silence passed where Nanami said nothing, and then Itadori decided to fill that silence with very off-key singing, and Kento’s cheeks dusted light pink, barely visible in the light, as he squeezed your hand tighter.

Everyone made the rounds, greeting him with varying levels of enthusiasm, while Nanami just thanked them with quiet politeness, even though you could see that he was secretly pleased, his lips curling up into a smile, the signs of stress dissipating from his features.

Itadori approached with a poorly wrapped gift and a hug that Nanami didn’t quite return, but he didn’t push away, either.

Nanami took the gift, holding it with soft eyes like he’d been given something precious. “Thank you, Yuuji. This is very kind.”

“You’re welcome.” Itadori said back proudly, smiling smugly at his two friends over his shoulder, obviously proud that he’d gotten such praise. “It’s probably going to be the best gift you’ll get tonight.”

You could see Nanami trying to refrain from laughing, but he snorted instead. “Is this why you were asking me about all those things that I liked a few weeks ago?”

“Uhh…” Yuuji smiled sheepishly, rubbing a hand on his neck. “No! Not really. But… Maybe.” He sighed. “I’d thought you’d forget about that.”

Kento’s eyes crinkled at the corner, and he squeezed Itadori’s shoulder, clearly touched.

You kissed his cheek and left him alone to talk with everyone that came to visit, going to thank Gojo and the students that had helped you over the past few weeks.

An hour passed before you found Kento again, after the cake had been cut and Gojo had insisted he opened one of the many gifts he’d gotten him.

He was standing in the kitchen, staring at a pile of wrapped gifts and the sliced cake that wasn’t exactly what you’d intended, but had received the same reaction, nonetheless.

“Kento?” you said quietly, and though you could tell that he was appreciative of everyone, you still weren’t sure how the surprise had gone over. He turned to you, his sleeves rolled up, a few more strands of blond hair coming loose. His cheeks were flushed, eyes soft. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been lying—”

Kento was to you in two long strides, backing you into a wall before kissing you deeply. Your hands curled into his hair, and you hummed into his mouth with a smile as his hands rested on your hips.

“Don’t apologize,” he whispered against your mouth. “I should be the one saying sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to ridiculous conclusions.”

You laughed, kissing him again and again, feeling things finally ease back into normalcy. “I know how it looked—” He looked away, embarrassed that he’d even thought of the possibility that you would leave him for Gojo. “I’m sorry I was so suspicious.” You sighed, leaning back in his arms as you held his cheeks with both hands. “Were you surprised?”

“I wish I wasn’t. It was pretty obvious now that I think back on it.”

“But…”

“But, yes,” he said, kissing your forehead as you preened, proud that it had all pulled together in the end. “I was surprised.” He gave you one last kiss, whispering, “thank you” and “I love you” on your lips.

From behind the door, you heard shuffling, and opened your eyes to see Gojo snapping a picture, to which Nanami groaned, pushing himself away from you reluctantly.

Gojo grinned, “Sorry. I’ll let myself out. Didn’t realize you two lovebirds were in here,” he said, even though he most certainly did.

“Please do,” Nanami gestured in the direction of the front door. “I hate the fact that you even know where I live.”

Gojo’s face fell. “After everything I did for your birthday, and you’re still going to pretend you don’t like me?”

“I don’t.” Nanami sighed, before swallowing down whatever antagonist words he really wanted to say. “But thank you. I really do appreciate it.”

Gojo beamed—you intervened before he could even think to throw his arms around Kento.

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90ekz · 4 months

Text

“WE AINT GOOD-GOOD, BUT WE STILL GOOD”

debrief: when your ex-boyfriend ony comes down with a cold, you clock into your nurse shift, as well as resolving some old feelings.

tags: black!fem!reader, sickfic but like.. not, use of the n word, make-ups and break-ups, you make ony nervoussss 🥹, implied eremin (i love them), pure fluff, healthy communication cs ik some of y’all be bashin niggas heads in

an: bringing in the new year with some fluff !! i love you guys, and may 2024 bring everything you desire in abundance <3

ex-boyfriend!ony who was so heartbroken when y’all split, but knew it was for the best. he didn’t wanna drag you down with all his mess, (even if you insisted over and over that you were okay) and you were busy trying to get your masters. even through this, close contact was kept, and y’all leaned on each other for support.

that’s why it was such a shock when connie and jean had let it slip that he’d been sick for 3 days. you sat on the notion, wondering why he didn’t come to you or even say anything, and waited for a call, but when none came after a few hours, you were dialing his number harshly into your phone and letting it ring with a scowl on your face.

“onyankopon.” you spit over the phone, hearing him sputter at the use of his full name. dull music played in the background, and you could swear you hear other voices, hushed.

“h-hey mama, what’s goin on?” ony refused to let his composure slip, all his boys were over and he had told them that he had stopped fuckin’ with you. they all opted to come over to chill (smoke) even while he was down with a real bad cold. he caved and took a few hits before deciding that his lungs weren’t strong enough right now, and passing the spliff to connie wordlessly.

“you got something you wanna tell me?” you sat patiently, giving him the opportunity to tell the truth before jumping to conclusions. maybe there was a reason for it, everything happens for a reason, right?

“uh…nah i been chillin—hold up.” your eyebrow jumped at his labored breathing mixed with the sound of him hushing someone in the background before pressing the phone back to his ear. “anyways. im good, nothing to tell you, im cool. you cool?” your suspicion grew at his constant throat clearing and groans.

“you a damn lie.” before he could even respond, you were hanging up the phone and two beep sounds rung in his head. he tried to call back twice before getting a notification that you’d left home and were on the pathway to his house. the drive was only about 10 minutes, and knowing you, you’d be here in 5.

“aw shit—all y’all gotta go.” ony stumbled to his feet, ushering connie, eren, armin, and jean out of their seated positions and towards the front door. “man i was just getting high, the fuck goin’ on?” eren mumbles lightly, placing his jacket around armin’s shoulders and finishing packing his bag.

“someone’s coming over, c’mon.”

“who bruh?”

“y/n nigga, i think she knows im sick. y’all gotta go, now.” the whole group erupts in protests of ‘i thought y’all were done’ and ‘don’t kick us out for that, man!’ but ony didn’t care. he hadn’t seen you in person for a while, and he still needed to cover his tracks. the whole group rolls their eyes, save for connie and jean, who looked like they’d seen a ghost.

“connie, jean, why y’all look like that? what did y’all do?”

“it was him!” jean points to connie, completely throwing him under the bus. connie almost protests until he sees the sour look on ony’s face, and they’re scattering out the door with ‘im sorry’s’ flaking from their lips, leaving armin and eren to snicker under their breath.

“you said you were done with her, why now?”

“as much as i would love to give you an in-depth synopsis on my relationship status, i really don’t have time for allat right now.”

eren rolls his eyes, his attitude shown clear on his face. he wasn’t the biggest fan of ony’s relationship with you, considering that he’s the one who has to hear all the bullshit between you two. armin intertwines his pinkies with eren, an easy soother to his irritation.

“if i have to hear about this shit later, i’ll kill you.”

with reluctance, the couple left—armin apologetically excusing eren’s rudeness—and ony was left to spray fabreeze for the weed smell, and splash cold water on his face to hopefully extinguish his up-ticking fever, just in time for your harsh knocks to come on the door.

ony opened it, albeit barely enough for you to see his flushed face. he was feeling real feverish now….

“you ain’t tell me you was coming over.”

“i don’t have to tell you. open this damn door and stop playin wit me.” ony gulps as he unlocks the chain on the door and sees you fully. all you had on was his hoodie that he was sure you said you were gonna give back, and some nike pro shorts that he couldn’t see. you held a bag of unknown contents in your hand. you eyed him up and down before stepping inside like you owned the place.

he loved when you did that shit, this man is down bad.

you twirled the string of his sweatpants between your freshly done nails, and ony swears his temperature went up 10 degrees. you had this look in your eye that was the epitome of concern and irritation having a fist fight.

“so when were you gonna tell me that you were sick?”

“i wasn’t. i didn’t want you to worry about it, but the opptastic duo just had let you know, i guess.” ony followed as you proceeded deeper in the house, but you paused as you entered the living room. your eyebrows furrowed and your nose crinkled.

“what’s that smell?”

ony gulped, just playing shrugging and playing dumb. the cloud of fabreeze hadn’t really covered the weed smell all the way, and he was sure that you were about to bust him for smoking while he was sick, and he really wasn’t tryna hear all that at the moment. he was ready to get in his bed (preferably with you in it..)

“do not play wit me, what is that japanese cherry blossom shit im smelling?” you threw your keys and bag down and paced around the living room, flipping over pillows and looking under couch cushions. ony protested, promising that he didn’t know what you were talking about, and thought to himself that you were just smelling yourself.

until you pulled an empty cart refill wrapper from beneath the cushion.

aw shit.

you looked at him like he was a dumbass—which he was—before watching him smack his teeth and snatch the wrapper from your hand begrudgingly. the words “CHERRY GLAZE” in bold lettering burned his eyes, before vaguely remembering that armin had switched out his liquid before he’d left.

ony teetered on the truth, but he knew you’d be pissed about him having his boys over when he was clearly sick, so he settled on a lil white lie.

“oh, that’s uh—that’s some of my old shit.”

“if i’m recalling correctly, aren’t you the one that said that you didn’t like smoking that ‘fruity shit’?” ony cleared his throat—in a way he only does when he lies—before just grunting in response.

“and even if you didn’t say that, you hate cherry flavored anything, so that begs the question… what bitch was smoking this shit on your couch?” you jabbed your freshly done pointer nail into his chest, feeling his breath stutter under your touch.

he was caught between a rock and a hard place, and figured he’d just tell you the truth, even if you’d get mad.

“basically, the boys came over and eren brought his lil boyfriend or whatever he is—”

“wait, eren’s gay?”

“apparently. anyways, his name is armpit… or was it arm and hammer… whatever sum like that, and he was smoking his cart and replaced the liquid on the couch and i guess the wrapper fell between the cushions. no bitches were over here, i swear.” ony holds his hands up in defense, reassuring you that he was telling the truth. you smiled, as you believed him regardless. you knew he didn’t roll like that anyway.

“bae, relax. i believe you, i was just tryna see you sweat. just sit down, i bought you some soup.” you smiled at him with all your teeth, and ony was sure that he fell in love all over again. he missed you more than words could explain, and he just wanted you to come home again.

he finally let himself relax and he slumped onto the couch, his headache hammering against the back of his eyes. you took a seat on the ottoman next to him, unpacking his favorite potato soup and crackers. you crush up the crackers in the soup and stir, just like he likes, and unscrew the cap of his blue fanta.

“i think—no, i’m already in love with you. i dont think i ever stopped.” ony mutters as you spoon feed him and he has the urge to cry. you were always so gentle and caring with him, and you’ve never stopped, regardless of what the relationship status was. that’s what he loved most about you—it didn’t matter what happened between you too, if he needed you, you were there.

he missed you so, so bad.

“stop talking with your mouth full, you’re gonna get soup on your new carpet.” you attempted to brush off his words, and the way that they were making your face heat up.

“fuck the carpet. i’ve never been so serious in my life, mama. i love you more than you know. ‘just want you to come back to me.”

you two broke up because you mutually needed space and time to yourselves. it was an agreement, yet neither of you committed to it for more than a week. before you knew it, you were back texting him good morning, as he was texting you good night. all you wanted was to be his girlfriend again, but you wanted to give him the space he needed.

you set the spoon and soup aside, watching the way ony’s deep brown eyes twinkle under the low light of the living room.

“ony, i want to give you your space, that’s the whole reason we broke up to begin with. you deserve that.”

“i had enough space. you not living here no more, not being up under me when i sleep, not kissing me when i wake up, only seeing you at parties, that’s space, and i’m real tired of it,” ony laces his fingers with yours, kissing the back of your knuckles as he used to do.

“i want you back. i want you back in my face all the time, i wanna wake up mad cause you took all the covers, but then it goes away when i see how cute you look all bundled up. i want my initials on your nails again, i want you. i need you, baby. come home to me, please—“

“okay, okay! that’s enough, you’re embarrassing me!” you hide your head in the crook of his neck, suddenly feeling bashful about the way he was relaying his apparent undying love to you. everything he does flusters you still. you don’t miss the way his hands grasp you even tighter than they used to, if that’s even possible.

“i just want you to promise me that i’m not hurting you.”

“you could never. my perfect girl would never.” ony places a kiss on the top of your head, making sure to hold you even tighter. you choose not to mention his sniffles at the current moment, and let yourself be lost in his love.

“i missed you too, ony.”

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aeomianamoure · 29 days

Text

— txt as ur older emo bfs pt. 2 >:3 !!

warnings <3: !smut, ddlg themes, cursing, (again writing from my own experiences w my current partner/exes) (this is more of how txt n the reader began dating), size difference, mentions of smut (actual smut!), texting!

a/n <3: holy shit??? im almost at 300 likes for pt. 1 ??? i love u guys sm :: hope u guys enjoy !!!

!emo txt who all your friends would warn you about befriending especially dating, “oh no girl don’t even THINK about it you don’t want him he gives off school shooter vibes” your friends put the emphasis on the word think as you watch the elder boy sit alone during lunch while wearing over the ear black headphones

!emo txt who would stare at you while you sat with your friends during lunch looking away quickly the moment you flashed them any looks making you sigh sadly, ‘why doesn’t he just talk to me? am i really that weird?’ you’d think to yourself deciding you weren’t that hungry but you decide to get up and walk towards the boy, so what if he was off putting or a total loser like your friends said? that was your type anyway

!emo txt who would eventually invite you over their house for gaming and anime binge watching sessions after sitting with them at lunch, they were always puzzled at how someone as sweet as you could possibly wanna befriend someone like them but they wouldn’t fight it

!emo txt who would always let you borrow their pierce the veil cds !! they’d say that you’d remind them of the song emergency contact and you being you you’d always blush when they would tell you that

!emo txt who would allow you to do a makeover on them !! “hold still” you’d frown painting their nails jet black you’d let out the biggest whine when they’d mess with their fingers causing the nail polish to chip so you’ve decided to move on to their eye shadow, giggling at how eyeliner looked really good on your boyfriend

!emo txt who wouldn’t talk as much and just prefer laying their chin in their palm as they’d watch you passionately talk about your hyper fixations “im not boring you right?” “no baby of course not”

!emo txt who would smile ear to ear when you clapped excitedly jumping up and down in place when they get their face pierced, you always talked about them getting lip, tongue and eyebrows piercings you just didn’t think today would be the day. “you like it?” they’d ask you bending down to your height as you nod rapidly before you whisper in their ear, “yes like it so much” you’d reassure “but id also wanna feel your tongue piercing on my clit” their eyes would go wide before they smirk down at your flushed face

!emo txt who wouldn’t mind you stealing their band tees or very large bracelets they’d smile at how tiny you’d look wearing them

!emo txt who would be shocked that you weren’t as innocent as they thought you were, “holy shit” they’d curse as they felt your tiny mouth (it wasn’t that tiny but to them it was) take their entire member do your throat as you’d mewl around their shaft, as you lazily rubbed your clit looking up at your boyfriend as you bopped your head up and down on them with pleading eyes begging for them to touch you

!emo txt who would pull you away when after they face fucked you, forcing you on your back as they finally paid attention to your pussy making you let out high pitch moans causing them shove their ring covered fingers in your mouth as they begin to slam their cock in your pink insides smiling as they hear you whine out a “i can feel you so cl-close daddy”

!emo txt would agree to doing your hair smiling at your compliments on how well they placed a pink ribbon in your hair before you tackle them into a hug pressing a million kisses on their face

!emo txt text messages would include:

2:30 pm monday

🩷🎀💗: walk me to class after lunch!!

🖤🚬⛓️: woah? r u being dominant?

🩷🎀💗: yes!!

🖤🚬⛓️: that’s cute

2:34 am friday

🩷🎀💗: after being friends with you for a while i’ve come to the conclusion that you definitely have some daddy issues

🖤🚬⛓️: no im not u

🖤🚬⛓️: i have different issues tho

🩷🎀💗: oh WE can tell

🖤🚬⛓️: alright princess

🖤⛓️🚬: ur the last one to be talking miss “but guys please hear me out! i wanna call him daddy and have him call me his little girl that would totally fix me!”

a/n: i have to mention pierce the veil in my emo txt fics at least once im sorry ):

#coquette #emo boyfriend #emo x coquette #txt x reader #angelina’s garden ♡!#txt #txt smut #txt x y/n

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savviathan · 7 months

Text

There is a warden in decked out.

Hypno knows this, partially, because he’s been to level three himself. He knows that wardens roam the catacombs of The Black Mines on every level, sniffing out his scent faster than any ravager ever has—even though his run to level three was short lived—and Hypno knows that because… well, it’s hard not to know things with his namesake. It was a bit of a stand off of senses, really.

But Hypno isn’t talking about those wardens. He’s talking about the one that’s everywhere, and effectively, nowhere all at once. He’s talking about the one he’s heard humming in the shop. He’s talking about the one growling in the crypt. He’s talking about the heartbeat, identical to the thu-thud of Decked Out’s, in the spider’s den and the pirate ship. He’s talking about the sniffling sound, and something akin to a chuff, as he rides the minecart into the dungeon.

Indeed, there is a warden in Decked Out’s walls.

Tango doesn’t seem to be aware of this fact. At least, Hypno thinks he isn’t. Despite the Deepfrost Citadel and Decked Out’s visible complexity and design, Tango’s general observation skills aren’t as cracked up as it seems.

He mentioned his concern to the guy a few days ago, just before phase one ended so it, theoretically, could be fixed before phase two. To ensure fairness, and all that jazz.

As Hypno turns a corner towards the River of Souls and hears the faint groan beneath his feet, he knows it wasn’t fixed. He hops over the hazard trapdoors all the same and bounds towards the stairs of the crypt—and comes face to face with a ravager. He turns around. Whatever. He’ll just go—

The compass flips directly back into the crypt. Darn it.

Deep from below (or left? or right? sometimes it feels like the sounds are right on top of him) a warden chuffs.

It sounds like laughter.

Just yesterday, Hypno asked some of the others in the waiting room—or, the daycare? is that what they were calling it now?—if they’d heard the warden in Decked Out’s walls. False had said she thought she heard one in the circular room towards the front of level one, but she might have confused it for a ravager instead. Gem said she definitely heard one in level two a few days ago. Etho said something about speculating it was some kind of secret regarding the fourth level, which Cub immediately shot down by saying that the distance between levels would be too far if they were to assume level four was below level three.

Scar said he had heard a very loud growling inside the shop. Something like warbling, half jumbled noises and speech that seemed to range between content and very, very irritated. Tango had told him it was a squirrel.

Grian had spun around on a dime and gave the most expressive face he could muster with only his two eyes as he yelled, “Why on earth would there be a squirrel in the dungeon, Scar!”

Good news, Scar no longer thinks it’s a squirrel. Also good news, from that conversation, Hypno had came to the conclusion that he was not, in fact, going crazy.

Bad news—Reckless Charge is played, Tango’s disembodied voice announces, and Hypno scrambles over a nearby shrieker only to trip face first into a dripstone stalagmite in his haste—now that he knows this thing really isn’t supposed to be here, it makes the irritated growling at least ten times worse every time he picks up his frost ember spoils.

Hypno slides into the next room and finds a key laying atop a pile of snow. He scoops it up, shakes his hand free of frozen powder, and turns back around.

Now that he’s thinking about it, Hypno really wishes he’d asked Scar when Tango had told him the warden noises in the shop had come from a squirrel. Having a timeline here would be extremely helpful. If Tango already knew there was a possibility of a loose warden and still lied to Scar… Well, of course, there was always the possibility Tango was just messing with the guy, but…

Hypno drops his key into the slot.

He furrows his brows. Well. That would be really weird.

It would be really weird, actually, because Tango was a game design perfectionist. He set out to make the best possible design and playability in a game known to man, and expected others to do the same. He expected everything to run smoothly, and would test and test and test some more until it would. Everyone knew that. Tango wouldn’t just purposefully leave a warden to wander around Decked Out.

Or maybe he couldn’t find it? Hypno purses his lips. That somehow seemed less likely. Tango knew the ins and outs of this game like nobody’s business. He was tangled up in its redstone guts for thirteen months, for god’s sakes.

So why…

It feels like a truck hits his abdomen.

Hypno yelps, startled out of his thoughts, and crawls back into the entryway of level two. He glares at the ravager, head poking through the doorway innocently. Hungrily. Hypno sighs and begins to stand back up.

Maybe he was putting too much thought into this whole “warden in Decked Out’s walls” thing. He couldn’t even hear it anymore, anyways.

But by god, he couldn’t help it if his head swam with all of the possibilities, the reasons, the details—the fact that the hermits knew it was there, and tango didn’t, and wasn’t that odd—the everything that came along with this game, and this particular unexplainable detail about it.

What a meticulous creation, to have something so uncared for.

Hypno dives into the water. He swerves out of the way of an incoming trident and rolls out onto land, dripping wet and breathing hard. He would have to ring out his bandana between these runs again. That was going to start becoming a hassle very soon. One he would have to endure, unfortunately. God forbid he take off his bandana for a full run and accidentally see where every evoker was hiding in the floorboards.

There’s a key lying on the ground just in front of the dripstone caves. He rushes over to pick it up.

The door chimes. Hypno steps through and down into the darkened stairwell once more, half squatting, half tiptoeing, at the plateaus. Deep below, loud enough to shake the lantern’s flame on the shelf next to him, there is a wet warble of a warden.

It’s appropriately timed now, Hypno thinks, but it still makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up all the same. The warden is loud now, louder than when it was in the walls, and the floor, and in front of him. It’s almost like being suffocated, the sound bounces off the walls and into his eardrums and makes it sound like it’s on top of him, or just behind him, or—

Or everywhere, and nowhere all at once. In the shop, in the dungeon, in the walls. Always present, never visible.

Following.

Hypno freezes in the entryway to the Black Mines. There is a warden in decked out. Two, actually, but that second one is of nowhere near his concern as he looks directly into the spot where this warden’s eyes would be, no more than ten feet away from him.

The darkness pulses around him. Hypno takes a step back, hand searching for the stairwell’s walls and missing, waving at air instead. The warden growls.

Darkness floods Hypno’s vision. It pulses around him, wanes, and Hypno reaches back for the stairwells walls. His hand misses. The warden wails. It bounds off of the walls, reverberates as a horrible shriek. The walls are nowhere to be seen, and the sculk at his feet hums as it reaches closer for his skin, thrumming and shrieking to the same tune. Hypno scrapes his hands on the ground as he falls, staring at black, then blue, and then black, and Hypno sees robes as his eyes widen, darkened and silk in texture with snowflakes embroidered into the seams, and blue, and black, and blue eyes where they shouldn’t be, and the heartbeat is deafening now, he can see it pulse through the warden’s chest as it howls and its chest opens, and Hypno thinks he sees his face in one of the souls it carries there, and black robes, and blue eyes, and a darkened hood, and a cackling laugh, and Hypno screams as the warden blasts his head clean off.

He shoots up in bed. There’s sweat on his forehead. The voices outside call his name. Hypno breathes hard, and sits there, and puts his hands in his hair.

There is a warden in Decked Out’s walls. As Hypno stares up at Tango, a nervous smile on his face, he realizes, there always has been.

#savvieposts #savviewrites #hermitcraft #decked out 2 #tangotek #hypnotizd #fanfiction #im so excited to post this

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muwapsturniolo · 1 day

Text

✯𝐖𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐉𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐞✯

chris x black earthy/boho!reader

IN WHICH…we take a dive into the relationship between Chris and y/n, and how their love for each other is beyond compare.

WARNINGS: just fluff.

PT.1

Y/n wasn’t looking for a relationship and she sure as hell wasn’t looking for love either. So she was shocked when Chris Sturniolo came out of nowhere and fell into her life.

She remembers how they met.

She was at a flea market, looking for new decor in her home. She had her mind set on a few plants and maybe even some artwork from a local artist. She was looking at a jewelry stand when Chris noticed her.

He recognized her instantly, having watched almost all of her YouTube videos. He stood in place, watching her carefully examine the handmade jewelry. He walked over to her, calling out her name, however, she couldn’t hear him over Erykah Badu singing in her ear. He ended up tapping her on her shoulder which caught her attention.

She took off the green headphones and stared at him, “could I help you with something?”

The two talked and talked, and talked. Chris ended up ditching his friend and brothers to walk around with her. He bought her food, talked about music, and even traded numbers with her.

From there the two became close, close enough to develop mutual crushes on each other. The only problem was that Y/n was scared.

She was scared with how fast she was falling for Chris. This was something new, something fresh, something innocent.

She wasn’t innocent.

She was damaged.

She knew that her mind was fucked up due to her previous relationship. She hated it, she wished Chris was her first love. She wished she wasn’t fucked up so she wouldn’t hurt him in the long run.

But she wanted it, she wanted whatever it was her and Chris were blossoming into. She wanted it for better or worse.

Chris saw her hesitancy when it came to him, he saw the battle going on in her mind when it came to her emotions towards him. So he did his best to prove he’s all in.

He did his best to give words of reassurance, he sent her flowers on her upload days to show her support, he searched for limited edition vinyls for her, He even made her a care basket when he realized she was on her period.

Y/n appreciated it all, she never took it for granted. She felt herself changing since Chris came into her life and for that,

He had her love. He had it and he could have it forever, because he earned it.

She vibed with Chris, she vibed with him on a higher frequency than she ever has with anyone else. They were so in sync in certain areas of life it scared her at first, but she grew to love it.

She loved what she had found with Chris and she vowed to herself to never do anything to mess it up. Little did she know Chris made the same vow.

They just had this motion between them that everyone could see, it was powerful, admirable, emotional.

They had the juice.

And they knew it.

There were times when Y/n would stare at Chris, thinking about how he magically appeared in her life and flipped it upside down for the better. She would run it back, replaying the moment he tapped her on her shoulder and smiled.

She replayed all the memories they’d created, the laughter, the new experiences, even their first time having sex.

She came to the conclusion that he was the one.

And she was back to being scared.

She couldn’t believe how fast she fell and connected with him, it drove her crazy but she still wanted him.

Chris felt the same way.

It was no secret Chris had a problem with relationships, never being able to commit due to his own fear of being hurt. He was prone to self-sabotaging.

But she made it easy for him the same way he made it easy for her. She wasn’t like the rest of the girls in LA who only cared about fame money, and clothes.

She didn’t care about his sneakers or how he dressed or how much money he made. She loved him for him, she loved his family, she loved... And all he could do was be grateful and return the favor.

They understood eachother, the were on the same wavelength, they were twin flames.

They had the juice.

AHHHH IM SORRY THIS IS SO SHORT BUT I WAS JUST TRYING TO CREATE THE VIBE OF THE SONG.

TAGLIST 🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @luv4kozume @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @j3tblackt3ars @ilovestarz @lustfulslxt @soimightlikeoldmen69 @tastesousweet @slut4sebastiansallow @whicked-hazlatwhore @stasiesturn @loljackwasfat @nicksmainbitch @ninacutebee16 @mayhem-72 @sturniolosmind @breeloveschris @mattslolita @mattsivy @guccifrog @hysteria-things @mrssturnioloo @koris_009 @patscorner @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @nickuniversity @luverboychris @thenickgirl @riasturns @imwetforyourmom @junnniiieee07 @realuvrrr @milasturniolo @fwskullz @hearts4tatemcrae @mattandchrismakemewett @chrissystur @canthelpit0 @strnilo @demistyles @junovrsmp4 @heartsforchrisandmatt @maryx2xx @vecnasnose0 @freshsturns @xxsturnxx @pettydollie @crimsoncorpse @sturnssmuts @sturniolovoid @m0r94n @freshsturns @adoreindie @sturnstvr

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris girl #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt girl #fluff #chris sturniolo fluff #x reader #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo triplets fluff

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sopiao · 8 months

Note

Hiyyyyyaa, how would the 141+könig react to military y/n being a goth girl? But they didn't know because she doesn't wear her piercings or makeup due to stranded military rule regulations, until they all meet up at the pug. Please and thank you. Take your time.

EHEHEHHE I LUV DIFF STYLE REQS LIKE THESE ^^

i tried my best 😭

Being apart of the task force was probably the best decision you made, you like the people, you have fun, and it pays good. Only downside of having to take off each of your piercings each time, especially if their fresh or barely healed, which could be dangerous (don’t do that kids) but rules are rules.

You never really told them about your style or anything since you didn’t really think it would be important, or if it would even matter.

When Soap reaches out to everyone and suggests to all meet up at a pub, you were more than willing to come. You had more than a handful of missions together and spent quite some time with them, but have never seen your teammates out of work before.

You’re the last to arrive since your time management is shit, you were stressing and messing up your makeup, but hey, at least you came. Parking your motorcycle and kicking the stand, leaving your helmet on the handle. At this point you realize that none of your comrades has never seen you in your attire, with all of your piercings in.

Entering the warmly lit and semi-busy, you saw them at a wooden table off to the side, laughing and talking about whatever has been going on in their lives, you see six drinks assuming they bought one for you. You decide to fuck with them since this’ll be the first time they see you in the full get-up.

“Boo!” At first their startled, then confused. Soap interested, he’s never been with a goth girl before, he’ll try anything— or anyone— once. Gaz is the first to realize who you are

“[NAME]?!!” Gaz shouts, making everyone look at him then to you, all making the same conclusion at the same time, Soap a little slower, but that’s normal. You chuckle, smiling as Price scoots to the side to make room for you, pulling out the chair next to him. It’s regular for him to want to sit next to you, he even had his jacket draped over the back rest to save it for you.

“You look sick” Gaz smiles, it soothed you. At first, you were worried how they’d think of you looking like this, but seeing his genuine expression eases you a little more. They wanted to say something, a comment or compliment, but they didn’t know how to say it properly without making it sound weird, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

“Oh! We got you a drink” Soap slides over your drink, a fruity strawberry Cosmopolitan. It was all new to them but familiar at the same time. They always kinda pictured this look on you but never thought they’d actually see it. In a way it kinda reflected how you are in the field.

“Did it hurt?” Ghost speaks up from beside you. Of course it hurt. But you were glad that he was interested, especially because he is almost never interested in anything.

“Some more than others” You shrug, hands resting in the pockets of your DIO sweater. Ghost leans forward, arms crossed and resting on the wooden table, slight nod of the head signaling for you to continue.

“Top 5?” Price asks, his arm wrapped behind you to rest on the backrest of your chair. You’re surprised that they’re even this interested, you kinda expected them to just accept it and move back into the conversation.

“Uhh.. I guess the first would be these. Took a while to stretch these out” Turning your head to show the others, poking the tip of your finger through the hole of your gauges. Chuckling awkwardly until you heard oohs and aahhs from them.

“Industrial is second, couldn’t sleep on my side for a couple months” Turning your head to the other side to show the metal bar coming between the shell of your ear.

“But this put me through hell, couldn’t talk or eat for a while. Lived off of smoothies for like forever” Sticking your tongue out to show the small metal star on the center of your tongue. Ghost’s eyes slightly widened, he had one too (i luv referencing my other stuff) but didn’t wanna mention anything yet.

“This hurt, but after a week I didn’t even feel it” Twisting the metal bar of your bridge, careful not to smudge your makeup.

“Didn’t even feel this, my lip was a little swollen for a while though” You pull your lip down to show off your snake bites. You didn’t really notice this until now, they were intently listening, not just hearing you but actually listening. Not expecting them to be this interested since people either were a little weirded out or just a dick about it.

“Wow… And I’m too scared to even get my ears pierced” König chuckled nervously, hand unconsciously coming up to lightly pinch his smooth and un-poked ear lobe.

—

“It was nice seeing you guys again” Grinning warmly as you all stood outside of the pub. The snow made you wanna leave already, but the company of your friends made it bearable.

You give Gaz a kiss on the cheek. A simple and platonic act of affection. Forgetting you had black lipstick on, seeing the black mark on his cheek made you embarrassed. Especially with Soap’s teasing.

“Hey, give me one, too” He bent down and tapped his cheek, with a cheeky grin. Laughing it off as you planted one on his cheek. Price leaned in too, wordlessly asking for one.

König was still not ready to lift his mask up that high yet, but he still wanted a kiss. So you just settled a smooch on the back of his hand like and prince would do to his fair lady. After you left a kiss mark on each of them they all looked at Ghost, waiting for him to lift his mask up for one.

He looked around with a shrug, then shaking his head with a sigh, as he uncrossed his arms and lifted the side of his mask only up to his nose. Making sure to press with a little more pressure with him since there was less lipstick on your lips since it was faded.

—

Extra:

Omg. Imagine like showing off cool but weird tricks. Taking off one of your lip piercings and showing off how you can squirt out water from the opening. Soap wondering if you could slurp spaghetti through it.

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whatstruthgottodowithit · 5 months

Text

Don't Ask

Fandom: Elvis Presley, American Musician

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader

Characters: Elvis Presley, Reader, Billy Smith, Charlie Hodge, Given Time Period We’ll Say Ginger Aldean

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4483

Summary: All he has to do is ask.

Tags/Warnings: Reader has a name, Addiction, Drug Use, Divorce, Arguing, Crying, Angst, Love, Marriage, Kids, Substance Abuse, Failing Health, Body Issues, Body Image Issues, Weight Gain, Big Daddy Elvis Era,

Notes: okay so this was sadder than anticipated

ELVIS MASTERLIST // TAG LIST

You could hear it, the shrill ring of the telephone just beside your bed, attempting to pull you into consciousness, its calls getting louder and louder as it managed to do so. It only stopped as you threw your hand on the nightstand, fumbling around until your fingers clasped around the receiver. As you placed it to your ear you flopped back, far too casual for someone who was receiving an out of the blue phone call at three am. Then again your life had never run on a normal schedule so nothing really phased you anymore.

‘Hello,’ you yawned, rubbing sleep from your eyes as you waited for the mystery caller to make themselves known.

‘Lor? That you?’ Billy said.

‘Yeah it’s me,’ you said quickly sitting yourself up in bed. Just because you’d become acclimatised to living life at a fast pace didn’t stop ice running through your veins whenever a call like this came it. It didn’t mean that countless scenarios didn’t run through your mind as you tried to keep calm and ask, ‘what is it?’

‘It’s Elvis,’ Billy said as if it could be anything else. As if there was any other reason any of them would even bother with you anymore.

‘What is it? Is everything okay?’ you replied, trying to push the worst conclusions from your mind.

‘He’s fallen. He’s hit his head pretty bad,’ Billy said. It wasn’t exactly great but it allowed your thudding heart to slow as you pushed anything worse from your mind. Injured you could deal with. Injured meant alive.

‘What about the kids have they seen him?’ you asked, getting to your next priority. Making sure nothing terrible had happened was top of the list. Making sure they hadn’t seen it was right behind it though these days that felt like a losing battle.

‘No, no, they’re asleep,’ Billy explained before he paused. You could hear him shift, no doubt trying to think of how to say whatever it was Elvis had told him to. Whatever he had told him to ask, ‘Lor, he’s asking for you.’

‘Bill,’ you sighed.

‘Said he won’t get off the floor but anyone but you,’ Billy said cutting you off. You knew he wasn’t trying to be rude but rather hoping that his explanation would get you on side. After all you could see how possibility of having to go back to Elvis empty handed wasn’t very appealing to him because the idea of telling him you couldn’t come over felt the same way.

‘Bill,’ you said hoping he wouldn’t ask you outright. That you wouldn’t have to peel yourself out of your warm bed and drive to the house to fix yet another mess.

‘Lor please…I don’t know what else to do,’ he said, quietly.

You paused. You shouldn’t go, you knew that. You knew that this wasn’t your job anymore and yet as you thought about him you couldn’t help but wonder. Wonder how bad it was this time. Wonder what they’d do if you said no. Wonder if your kids would see him in whatever state he was in if you didn’t go to help.

‘Give me twenty minutes,’ you sighed.

As your car rolled through the gates of Graceland you felt the nerves you had been fending off the entire drive return. It never failed to amaze you how people could stand outside the gates you had just gone through, watching a house just be. How they could fantasise about the goings on inside and wish to be part of them. But that was because they didn’t know what truly lay behind those gates. They didn’t know the goings on as you did. They weren’t here with you at three am on a chilly December night; not going to a party, not going to frolic by the pool or ride horses around the grounds. No, they weren’t there for this, whatever this was of course.

As you stepped out you wondered if they would be here if they could. That if they knew everything they’d swap places with you in a heartbeat. You wondered if they were in your shoes would they be coming over to the house or would they have never left in the first place? After all, considering all you’d been through your decision to leave your husband, your home, all you’d ever known, had baffled everyone. It made them wonder. What was the breaking point? What was the final straw? And most people wondered, could it really be that bad? Surely all the good bits of Elvis Presley were enough to stay.

They had a point you supposed. Because even after you’d left; packed up your children and whacked the divorce papers in front of him you still came back for the bad bits.

‘You’re going?’ you heard your boyfriend ask as you emerged from the bathroom. You’d promised to head over to the house, to mop up whatever mess Elvis needed you to, but that didn’t mean you were going to rush right over there. It was pointless of course, to make sure you looked at least somewhat presentable, but the idea of having some control over the situation brought you a modicum of self-respect. Even if you were running back home and leaving your boyfriend in an empty bed.

‘I have to,’ you said, not meeting his gaze as you made your way around the room, dressing yourself for the chilly Memphis winter as he climbed out of bed and came towards you.

‘He’s your ex-husband Lori. Emphasis on ex. You don’t have to do anything, let his new girlfriend figure it out,’ he said. He was standing in front of you now, blocking your path to your purse and forcing you to look up at him.

‘It’s not that simple,’ you said trying to ignore that twinge in your gut at the mention of your replacement.

‘Why not?’ he replied.

‘My kids are there Tom. I mean what if they see,’ you said pausing before you let anything else slip out. Even after everything you still couldn’t bring yourself to tarnish his reputation, even if he was doing a damn good job of doing that himself. Instead you steeled yourself and moved past him, picking your purse up from where it rested on a chair by your vanity, ‘I have to go.’

‘You’re just gonna run to him every time he clicks his fingers?’ he said watching you as you headed to the door. You paused at that, your hand resting on the door handle waiting for you to make your decision.

‘What choice do I have?’ you muttered before you ran out of the door.

The house was still when you got inside, the sound of the kids running around or the presence of Elvis’ entourage now gone not that you needed anyone to tell you where to go. You headed upstairs only when you rounded the corner you found Billy sitting at the top of them as though he’d been waiting for you to show up before he dared go and tell Elvis anything. He stood up as you came into view giving you a quick hug before he turned to head towards your bedroom, your old bedroom.

‘He’s in the bathroom,’ he muttered as he walked through the room, ignoring the woman who was sitting on the bed, tears running down her face as Billy’s wife Jo attempted to comfort her. She looked up as you passed, watching you with a scowl on her pretty face that you ignored. It wasn’t that you weren’t sympathetic. After all you knew how she must’ve felt, you’d been there yourself a million times before, left out in the cold whilst he chose someone else. You just couldn’t help it. You knew you shouldn’t be there and yet you couldn’t not be.

Because he’d asked for you.

You heard him before you saw him. Billy had headed into the bathroom first, joining Charlie who was standing by the door, and as suspected he’d been missing a while causing the backlash he’d been hoping to swerve to spilled out the moment he reappeared as Elvis said, ‘and where the fuck have you been?’

‘Makin’ a call like you asked,’ Billy said.

‘That took you half an hour?’ Elvis spat, ‘honestly if I got one competent person around here-‘

‘He was waiting for me to get here. Now can someone tell me what the hell is going on?’ you asked, pushing through Billy and Charlie’s human blockade. Elvis’ angry expression melted away as you broke through the line of defence, disbelief taking over his features as he said, ‘you came.’

‘Of course I came,’ you said bitterly, folding your arms across your chest, ‘they said you were being ridiculous and won’t get up.’

‘And what, you think you can make me?’ he said, a cocky smile coming to his tired face.

‘Don’t test me Elvis,’ you said seriously.

‘Oh come on,’ he said, ‘you used to like me teasin’ ya remember?’

‘You know what forget it. I don’t need this,’ you said turning to head to the door though you hadn’t made it a foot before he spoke again, all teasing gone from his tone as he said, ‘don’t go. I’ll behave…just don’t go.’

You turned around, assessing the situation in its entirety. He was sitting on the floor, his legs out in front of him as he rested against his back the counter top. Apart from being on the floor he didn’t look too bad but it was only when you looked closer did you notice the disarray. The bottles that were scattered along the counter top and the floor from where he caught them on his way down. The discarded towels on the floor beside him, dark in colour which made it hard to notice the even darker spots of blood that had long since dried into them. The deep gash on his forehead that was still crusted with blood but blended enough into his hair line that it wasn’t noticeable at first glance. And the fear in his eyes.

You knew him better than anyone. You’d learned to read every expression that ever came on that beautiful face of his and right now you could see he was scared. He wasn’t doing this to be awkward. He hadn’t called you because no one else could help. Hed called you because you were the only one he wanted to see him like this.

‘Give us a minute,’ you said looking towards Charlie and Billy who were both standing by the door watching the pair of you curiously.

‘But-‘ Billy protested.

‘A minute,’ you said looking at him with the expression you gave your son when he was being just as cheeky as his daddy. Billy glanced between the pair of you and then nodded before gesturing for Charlie to follow him out of the room. You pushed the door shut behind them, taking a deep breath before you turned back to Elvis whose eyes had never left you.

‘So what was so important that you couldn't ask for anyone but me at three am,’ you said, perching on the barbers chair as you stared down at him.

‘I need ya,’ he said simply, colour flushing his plump cheeks as he said, ‘I can’t get up.’

‘Can’t or won’t?’ you challenged.

‘Can’t,’ he said embarrassedly, ‘my legs…I can't feel ‘em. T-that’s why I fell.’

‘We should call an ambulance,’ you said worriedly.

‘Hell no!’ he retorted angrily.

‘Elvis,’ you pressed.

‘No Lor, no ambulance,’ he said tersely though as your worry went to irritation at his tone he noticed he’d overstepped and his expression softened, ‘just please help me.’

‘I don’t know if I can E,’ you said assessing the scene before you. He’d always been bigger than you, in height for one, but over the past few years with his varied state of health his weight had fluctuated leaving him larger than he used to be meaning you didn’t know how you were going to hoist him up off the floor without help.

‘They won't understand,’ he said brokenly, ‘you’re the only one who understands.’

You surveyed him one last time, watching as he kept his gaze ashamedly on his lap, which only made tears sting at your eyes though you blinked them away. As always you couldn’t let yourself cry because he needed you to be strong. And so you sighed and said, ‘alright, let’s see if we can get you up.’

Elvis looked up at that and nodded watching you as you moved to the floor and bent down beside him to assess the situation. You didn’t know how best to get him up, the way he had landed had left him in the middle of the bathroom with only you to grab onto but as you surveyed you noticed the towel rack on the wall not too far away.

‘I’m gonna hoist this side okay? Do you think you can grab the rail and pull?’ you asked, peering into his face that resembled that of an old man and an obedient school boy all at once.

‘Think so,’ he said.

‘How much feeling have you got in your legs?’ you asked.

‘I can feel ‘em now but they’re weak…I won’t be able to hold myself up for long,’ he admitted.

‘Well let’s get you into the barbers chair,’ you said eyeing the distance between it and you. Once he was on his feet it would only be a couple of steps but the feat of getting him upright left you with that uneasy feeling once more.

‘Okay,’ he said reaching out for the gold towel rack and wrapping his hand around it so tight his knuckles turned white.

‘Ready?’ you asked, slipping your arm under his shoulder until you had a grip of him on his other side.

‘Ready,’ he nodded.

‘One…two…three,’ you said rocking him on every beat until you both thrusted forward, using his weight as an advantage to pivot him onto his feet. He was up surprisingly quickly, though his grip on your waist tightened as he stood there, unsure and wobbly on his own feet. You surveyed him looking for any signal he was going to drop but he met your gaze offering you a reassuring smile, well, until the distinct smell of dried urine wafted into your nostrils. He noticed it at the same time, his cheeks going beetroot red as he dropped his gaze to the dark stain on the front of his pyjama pants and muttered, ‘sorry…it happened when I…’

‘It’s okay,’ you said, your heart breaking at his embarrassment, ‘let’s get you cleaned up.’

He nodded and plodded the couple of steps towards the chair, your hands only letting go when he was close enough to sit down though he threw himself into the chair with an oomph and a groan. He looked exhausted. Any energy he’d had thus far vanquished in a couple of steps. And looking at him you felt just as exhausted, your battery running on empty even though you knew he needed you. At that you excused yourself offering the excuse of finding him some new clothes. He didn’t protest though you didn’t give him time to, instead fleeing to the safety of the other room. Everyone was gone now, save for Charlie who was perched on the bed watching as you flitted to the closet.

‘Is he okay?’ he asked.

‘He’s fine,’ you said though both of you knew that was far from the truth. Even holed away, protected by soundproof walls and secrecy, neither of you dared address the elephant in the room.

‘Need any help?’ he asked.

‘Nope,’ you said, tucking the folded silk pyjamas under your arm, ‘I’ve got it under control.’

‘Holler if you need anything,’ he said, watching you nod before you were gone from sight back into the bathroom. He was where you’d left him, his eyes closed as he relaxed back against the headrest though they opened as you entered making your heart squeeze as the peacefulness disappeared replaced by fatigue and worry.

You ignored it, that hurt in your heart, and instead moved to the counter, turning the tap on and running the water until it was warm enough to start filling up the sink. If you couldn’t get him to the shower the shower would have to come to him. Once the warm water was up near the top of the bowl you turned the tap off and moved back to him, your fingers working quickly to unbutton his pyjama shirt. He allowed you to remove his clothes, watching as you worked silently, the only thing offered being a grunt as you made him lift his hips to get his pants off. You moved to grab a wash cloth but when you turned back he was surveying himself, disgust on his face as he took in the body before him. Again you said nothing but this time it was less about trying to hold back your emotions but more because you didn’t know what to say. You’d told him countless times about how handsome you still thought he was. How a little extra timber suited him not that he had ever believed you. But his body now meant something different to you.

It made you sad. Not because you longed for that trim twenty something you married but because you knew that it would only be able to take so much. Because you feared that one day it might not be just his legs or his bladder that gave up on him. Because you feared that one day you might get another phone call in the middle of the night except there’d be no helping that time.

The washcloth glided smoothly across his skin washing away the sweat that had arisen on his skin from the exertion and though you knew he would probably be better with a shower there was no way you’d be able to manage that so as long as he was clean you’d take it. He said nothing, watching as you glided the warm cloth tenderly along every inch of skin, until you got to his thighs, which was when his weary face broke into a smile, his eyes lighting up at whatever dirty quip he’d cooked up in that brain of his.

‘Nice try Presley,’ you giggled handing him the cloth so that he could deal with that part alone.

‘Hey, I didn’t say nuthin’,’ he smirked making you roll your eyes as you busied yourself with getting his clothes ready.

‘You don’t have to,’ you said as you turned back around.

‘Maybe you should get your mind outta the gutter Mama,’ he retorted.

You ignored him, even when he quirked an eyebrow as you dropped to your knees in front of him, ignoring how pink your cheeks had turned as you tapped his foot to allow you to slip his pants on. He clung onto you as you got to his hips, grunting again as the exertion of moving made him breathless, his belly diminishing the amount of air able to get in his lungs. As you shimmied his pyjama shirt, moving to fiddle with the buttons on the front, his hands found their way to your hips. You knew he probably shouldn’t, that exes should never be this affectionate with one other but like with everything else Elvis was a law unto himself. Even with another girl in the other room he still held you like he would have if you were married. And more to the point you let him.

Once you finished dressing him you grabbed a comb and ran it through his locks, trying to get them into some form of order instead of the disarray they’d been in but the teeth of the comb snagged in the dried blood making him wince.

‘Sorry,’ you murmured moving to grab another cloth so that you could wash it off properly. Except this time he didn’t let you stand, as you dabbed the cloth against his forehead he pulled you onto his lap watching your face closely as you kept your eyes on the task at hand.

‘Lor,’ he said after a moment. You didn’t respond, ‘Lor look at me.’

‘I can’t,’ you whispered, refusing to meet his gaze, ‘I can’t keep doing this.’

‘I know,’ he whispered, ‘I can’t believe you came.’

‘How could I not?’ you asked finally meeting his eyes as tears started blurring your vision.

‘But you can’t anymore?’ he said dropping his gaze to your other hand as he took it in his large one his thumb stroking the back of it gently.

‘No,’ you said honestly, ‘and you have to stop asking.’

‘Honey,’ he sighed.

‘Because if you ask I’ll come. You know I will and this…I left because I couldn’t do this anymore Elvis. You know how much it breaks my heart to see you like this. To think of the kids seeing you like this.’

‘I know, I know,’ he sighed.

‘But you don’t!’ you said climbing out of his lap and brushing the tears away, ‘you don’t seem to get it otherwise we wouldn’t be in this cycle would we?’

He didn’t answer, instead he fiddled with the arm rest of the chair refusing to look up at you.

‘When I go are you gonna call Dr Nick?’ you asked. You knew the answer already but hoped you were wrong. You knew that once you were out of the way, once you’d hid his shame and guilt away he’d be back to the people who caused it in the first place.

‘I hit my head,’ he said earning a scoff. It wasn’t an outright admittance but it wasn’t a denial either. It was a classic Elvis tactic. To make you do the work. To never be in the wrong but never be in the right either. To live in ambiguity until his opponent gave up fighting. Like you had.

‘Honey,’ he sighed.

‘No Elvis,’ you said folding your arms across your chest.

‘I need him,’ he explained, ‘the pain, the achin’. I can’t take it.’

‘How do you know? You haven’t tried,’ you said exasperatedly, ‘you just pop those damn pills and hope they’ll fix everything.’

‘He’s a doctor,’ he said.

‘He’s a murderer,’ you corrected. You could see the argument building. It had been one you’d had countless times. His use of his so-called doctor ranking somewhere in the middle of worthy topics of debate, smushed in between fighting about the kids, the house, money, the other women, the colonel and work. Yet unlike all those times before you could see he was weaker now. That though he dared to stand by his actions his resilience to do so was waning and if you kept arguing you’d be no better at keeping him from an early grave than that damn doctor.

‘I can’t,’ you sighed, ‘I can’t argue about this again…I just can’t.’

‘Lor please,’ he begged.

‘No Elvis,’ you said, the firmest you’d been all night, ‘I can’t do this anymore. I asked you to choose and you made your choice.’

‘It ain’t that simple,’ Elvis said.

‘And neither was leaving you,’ you replied. The tears had broken free now, silently running down your cheeks as you said, ‘do you love me? Our life? Our babies?’

‘Of course I do,’ he scoffed.

‘So why isn’t it enough,’ you said moving to stand in between his legs. His arms wrapped around your torso, his sad blue eyes looking up at you as you took his face in your hands, dampness coating your fingertips from where his own tears had rolled free, ‘why can’t you choose us for once?’

‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘I don’t know either…’ you sniffled, ‘because I choose you. Every time. Whenever you ask I come running and I just can’t do it any longer because it’s killing me…the way those pills are killing you…and I can’t let our babies end up with no one.’

‘Lor,’ he whispered brokenly.

‘This only gonna end one way baby,’ you said moving to rest your forehead against his, ‘unless you choose not to.’

He stayed quiet, allowing you to kiss his forehead before you broke free of his grasp, his hand only letting go of yours at the very last second before you slipped from the room. Charlie was gone now, replaced by the girlfriend you didn’t know the name of yet. As you wiped the tears from your face she watched you, her expression less hostile now that she could see your distress, whatever favouritism you’d been shown evidently not being a good thing.

‘Is he okay?’ she said as you grabbed your purse from where you’d dumped it by the bathroom door.

‘He’s fine,’ you replied, fumbling for your car keys.

‘Fixed him all up huh?’ she said, her stare cold and unyielding.

‘I did what he asked me to,’ you said flatly, ‘but um he’s asking for you.’

‘Oh really,’ she said sarcastically and though you wanted to argue to fight back you didn’t.

‘Yeah, he uh, he’s gonna wanna get it bed but he might need a minute to get there. Don’t fuss him too much otherwise hell get angry with you-‘

‘I don’t need your help,’ she said snippily.

‘From the way you were sobbing your heart out earlier I take it your initial go at handling him didn’t go very well,’ you bit back, offering the only bit of angry you could muster. She bristled, folding her arms across her chest with a pout on her face which you elected to ignore as if she was one of your children. Given her age she might as well have been, ‘look you wanna feed yourself to the lions go ahead but I’m here to help. More importantly I need yours.’

‘Why?’ she questioned.

‘Because I need to know has got someone. Whether it’s you or the next one who knows,’ you said, the idea of her being replaceable finally seeming to kick her into a cooperative mood, ‘just look after him.’

‘What if I don’t know how?’ she asked.

‘Call me,’ you said.

And before she could ask any more questions you fled the room headed back to your car. As you drove away, fresh tears pouring down your face you wondered again about those people at the gate. Except now you had your answer. Because even knowing everything, knowing how it was going to end, you couldn’t walk away. Even if you had to look like you had.

ELVIS TAGS

@girlblogger2002 @sania562 @caitlin1996 @literally-just-elvis-fics @notstefaniepresley @artlesson8892 @18lkpeters @velvetelvis @jaqueline19997 @elvispresleyxoxo @amydarcimarie @presleyenterprise @everythingelvispresley @elvispresleywife @lillypink @richardslady121 @lettersfromvenus @louisejoy86 @ccab

#my writing #elvis #elvis presley #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #big daddy elvis #big daddy Elvis x reader #don’t ask

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binxiboo · 25 days

Text

The Frenchier Mistake

(aka Dean meets his celebrity crush: Actress!Reader)

Supernatural Masterlist // Full Masterlist

A/N: @princessmermaid1289 you'll never guess what I've only gone and done... I finished it! (we'll ignore it being well over a year later)

Actress!Reader x Sam and Dean

Clatters fill the bunker as all sorts of equipment and tools get dropped on the closest surface to the bottom of the staircase. Both Winchester brothers are incredibly over this last hunt. They were meant to be home days ago, thinking that they’d killed a whole nest of vamps; turns out these vampires were the vengeful kind, and when they found out that their friends had been savaged… well they didn’t take it lightly. It didn’t take them long to find the ’67 Chevy Impala on its route back to the bunker.

The respective hallways echo with heavy footsteps as the tire brothers silently bid each other goodnight before slinking behind their bedroom doors, each leaning their weight against them, unknowingly synchronised across rooms. It’s a miracle either of them even got their clothes off before collapsing into bed, finally getting a comfortable night’s rest they’d not had all week.

The two had a shock, however, when they were awoken by… clapping? Sam and Dean both shoot up in their beds, instantly trying to place what could be happening in their heads. As they’re processing the information around them, they begin to realise that the beds beneath them no longer feel like the comfortable ones they fell asleep in the night before. Hell, they’d had nicer motel beds than these. What are they? Solid wood? Dean runs his hand alongside his leg, pushing down on the barely-there mattress. Well, there’s some cushioning at least.

“That was a good one, guys!”

“Yeah, I think that’s us done for the night.”

The bodies in front of them slowly filtered out of the room while the two men made their way out of the prop beds. At a certain point, the wall separating their apparently-not-a-room ‘rooms’ ended, and the two brothers found themselves side by side. They turn to look at each other, then around what they’ve now realised is a tv set.

“Sammy?”

“Dean.”

“Tell me it’s not happened again.”

Sam swallows, hard. The lack of verbal response has Dean running a hand over his face. The next few moments are spent considering what actions may have led them to being stuck in this universe again. Several things get ruled out. They haven’t pissed off anyone with the ability to transport them across universe lately. Neither of them was messing with magic, or any practices to be clear, that could’ve gone wrong like this. It isn’t a dream that they’ve both ended up conscious in. There’s no way for anything to be an imminent threat. It is at this conclusion that Dean gets the best idea he thinks he has ever had in his life.

He's going to go flirt with some babes.

Dean quickly locates the door everyone had walked out of previously and practically drags his brother through it. Sam doesn’t quite process that he’s moving until his head almost hits the door frame on his way out of the building and his face screws up as he processes the information.

By the time Sam has gotten out of his own head Dean has already surveyed half the studios surrounding their own. As soon as a question begins forming on his tongue, Sam is pulled in another direction by Dean’s, arguably tight, grip on his forearm. Dean is on a mission as he glances around at the postered walls of each building. Honestly, Sam doesn’t understand how Dean even knows what he’s seen with how short the glances are. The sniffer dog act ends abruptly though when Dean receives all power of the moose that is his brother slam straight into his back, eliciting a grunt from the older, shorter brother.

“Not my fault you don’t come with brake lights.” Sam says with a shrug in response to Dean’s glare. “Why’d you stop so suddenly anyway?”

Dean simply turns around and gestures at the poster on the building directly in front of them. Sam, confused once more, delivers an expression to encourage elaboration.

“Dean, am I supposed to know what this is?”

“It’s a TV show. With doctors in it. Very dramatic. Heavy stuff.”

“And that’s supposed to help me how… oh. Is this that med show we got stuck in before?” An air of exasperation arrives by the end of Sam’s sentence.

Dean purses his lips and keeps his face hidden from Sam. He tries to tell himself that there’s nothing embarrassing about watching what is, frankly, just good television.

“Yeah, well… there’s… hot chicks.” Sure, that was convincing enough, Dean decides.

With a roll of his eyes, Sam follows Dean in through a door, slipping behind the few crew members who have just exited through it. They stick to the shadows, Dean, not so gently dragging Sam into the darkness with him, determined to sleuth out the space rather than risk immediate expulsion. Once, deemed safe, Dean slinks forward, attempting to contain his inner nerd, but ultimately coming to a halt as he ends up turns to face with someone he could never have prepared for.

The older Winchester’s eyes widen, pupils absolutely dilating – in fact, if this was the Scooby Doo crossover, there’d be audible ‘AWOOGA’s filling the silence. Dean Winchester has been infatuated with this actress since she began her role, how could he not? She’s inarguably the most attractive woman going, the amount on unsavoury concepts his filthy man brain has conjured up over the seasons… well, they’re better off inside his head, he thinks. A mental note recorded to not let any of them slip.

It has him in shock that she’s somehow existing in this universe. He’s in even more shock when he realises that it’s taken him ending up in another dimension to be in her presence, he was sure that he’d have to somehow get himself to that fan convention a few states over without Sam finding out, and yet, she’s here. They’re both there. A loud yell to cut triggers him to collect himself.

She sighs, walking out of the set, towards the snack table- towards him. He goes to inhale deeply, to settle his excitement before making a fool of himself, but she speaks before he can.

“Jensen? Jared?” there’s a lilt of interest in her voice, even excitement on her part.

Dean does a double take. She knows him. No. She knows Jensen. Well, that solidifies the theory that this is the same universe from before. Jensen. He can work with that.

“Hi.” He responds, his best charming smile sliding onto his face paired with a small wave of his hand. It encourages her to come closer, Dean internalises his celebration.

“Um, why-” her brow furrows, as she struggles to phrase a sentence, “You’re on my set? This- our set.”

“Yeah...” Dean nods, processing how he can spin this, “Actually, I- we- we came to see you."

Her face flushes, eyes widening slightly before she catches herself. “O-oh. You did?”

Dean nods, smiling at her again. Sam offers her a slightly awkward, but still kind, smile as her eyes flick over to him.

“Well, I was going to head to a bar after this shoot.” There’s an air of confidence flooding through her words now, she looks back at her director for the evening. He looks exhausted as he talks to other crewmembers, shaking his head. He mutters something. Then there’s a loud statement, letting everyone know they can go home for the night, they’ll try to get the scene tomorrow.

“A bar, you said?” Dean can’t hide his smirk as he gains her attention again.

She nods, “Yep. I- actually, think you’ll love it.”

“Lead the way then, Doctor.” He adds a laugh to this, hoping it doesn’t make her cringe. It makes Sam cringe, which earns the taller Winchester a not-so-subtle smack to the stomach. She, thankfully, laughs. Man is it one of the sweetest things he’s ever heard. He almost lets himself get lost in the sound before he remembers that this is not his universe, and that he’s not even himself here. He’s Jensen instead of Dean. On that topic, he considered whether anything indicated whether Jensen was in a relationship. He knows Sam has to act married; Jared having married ‘Fake Ruby’ and all that.

The two follow the actress.

They end up a street away from the studio. The lighting is low, but warm, almost comforting. Dean decides to be the gentleman and get the first round in. He asks the lady what she wants to drink, then hands his wallet to Sam, telling him to get him ‘a beer- no! No, a whiskey’. The two leave Sam at the bar to situate themselves in a more secluded booth in the back of the bar.

“Let's play a game.”

Dean’s head shoots around to her, eyebrow quirked and lips slightly smirked, challenging.

“I’m thinking... two truths, one lie?” There’s a playful tone to her voice as her lips morph to match his smirk.

“Oh, absolutely. We’re going to need shots...” Dean leaves the table just as Sam returns, earning him a confused look from his younger brother, but continuing with his mission regardless.

Once the older brother returns to the chosen booth with a tray of pre-poured shots, Sam takes one look and decides he wants no part, taking his chance to work out how the hell to get home instead. Dean, however, eagerly sits across from his celebrity crush, rubbing his hands after placing the tray down gently enough not to spill any nectar.

“Who’s up first?” he asks with a smirk, taking a swig out of his whiskey glass, he looks up to be met with a matching expression on the actress’ face as she begins to speak.

“I only got to where I am because I have a godparent high up in the industry. I speak multiple languages, aaaaand… I’ve been approached for… naughty modelling.” She finishes with a wink.

Dean’s biology serves him no favours as he processes her last insinuation, shuffling to obscure himself better under the table as he chokes a little on his whiskey.

“Well- I- The last one has to be a truth, there’s no way you haven’t. I mean, look at you.” His words met with a modest blush on her cheeks as she laughs a little. “There’s no way you can speak another language, well maybe for a role, but not fluently, so I call bull. Then that leaves the last truth to be nepo baby.”

“Take a shot. Or two… do you want to do a shot per wrong answer?”

“What? No- how’d I get that wrong?!”

“I’m not a nepo baby, just… either extremely lucky or someone was trying to get in my pants. Like the photographer that wanted me to pose nude for him… when I lived in France and spoke the language every day. Because I speak French. Fluently.”

Dean’s jaw drops open, sighing before he shoots two glasses back without a word. Y/N giving an approving nod.

“Your turn.”

It’s safe to say… Dean sucks at two truths and a lie. Or at least he does when any truths he could say sound crazier than any lies, especially when he reminds himself that he needs to play along as Jensen. In fact, he gets so many wrong that the night begins to blur, her needing to collect the next tray of shots as he fails to coordinate his way to the bar. By the time Sam returns, Dean’s slumped over in the booth, words barely English as they slur, and then, darkness.

When Dean sees the world again, he’s back in the concrete confines of the bunker. His brain struggling to work overtime to get his bearings and put memories in chronological order. Through his bedroom door comes Sam, acting as if nothing was wrong.

“Sammy- what- how’d we get home?” Dean’s voice comes out hoarse and gravelly as he speaks, rubbing his head.

“What do you mean? I drove.”

“Drove from… another universe?”

Sam laughs. “What?”

Dean’s face drops. “I- I- We were in that other place again- that- Ackles and Pada- Padalinski.”

Sam shakes his head, muttering to himself as he walks away, waiting until he’s around the corner before checking the photos remain on his phone. His brother blacked out the corner of the bar booth, his celeb crush posing next to him after covering his face with lipstick kisses.

#supernatural x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #deanwinchester #dean winchester imagine #sam winchester #supernatural #supernaturalxreader

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