#remember that we must do everything we can. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonstruckme · 3 days

Note

the sleepy remus drabble was everything but what about sleepy james x reader just cuddling on the couch with remus and sirius teasing them omfgg

Thanks for requesting lovely! I realized halfway through writing this that I wasn't sure if you meant rem and sirius were there platonically or not, but I hope this is alright <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 870 words

Even when you hear the voices, you pretend you don’t, too comfortable on the plush cushion of James’ hoodie. Opening your eyes isn’t worth the effort.

“Is this what they do when we’re not home?” Sirius’ voice is low and ripe with faux outrage.

James hushes him, so he’s awake apparently. His thumb moves over your tummy, big hand tucked into the warmth between your sweatshirt and your bare skin. “You’ll wake her,” he says, voice still sticky with sleep.

“She ought to be awake, it’s five in the afternoon!”

Remus’ voice is softer, skeptical. “I don’t see how either of you expect to sleep through the night if you nap like this during the day.”

“We manage,” James yawns.

You hear Sirius huff. If the muscles in your face were more active you think you’d smile. “I thought we were going to Marlene’s thing tonight,” he complains.

“Still planning on it.” James’ palm splays over your middle, warm and safe. “We’re resting up.”

“This is how you prepare for Friday nights now? Fuck, we must be getting old.”

You whine at his volume, nuzzling your face into James’ chest.

“Oh, so she is awake. What, sweet thing, you don’t feel like saying hi?”

This time James coos at your protesting sound. His hand slips from beneath your sweatshirt to wrap around your shoulders, shielding you from your pestering boyfriend.

“Oh, let’s have a bit of sympathy,” Remus says, sounding amused, “she’s had a long, hard day of napping. She deserves a bit of rest.”

You want to remind him it’s your day off, but speaking feels like giving into wakefulness, and that is something you are not inclined to do. Instead, you try to wriggle beneath the blanket halfway up James’ torso, curling in on yourself like a roly poly. He helps you out, pulling it up to cover your head and draping an arm over your balled-up form.

“It’s her day off,” he says, your hero. “Why shouldn’t she get to rest?”

“That’s fair enough,” Remus allows, “but why were you sleeping?”

James hesitates. “Well, I didn’t have anything to do after training and she…she lured me in.”

It’s true. James after rugby training is like Remus after he spends all day reading; he’s all worn out and pliable, and you’d practically only had to open your arms for him to fall right into them and then a cuddle on the couch had turned into a two-hour nap. Terribly unfortunate. Certainly not your plan all along.

You decide it’s your turn to protect James from the others, wriggling up on his chest and covering his head with the blanket. You see his smile through half-lidded eyes, and outside of your little cave, Remus chuckles.

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?”

“I think we should get in bed and have a cuddle they’re not invited to,” says Sirius. “See how they like it.”

“I’m not sure we can leave them in good conscience.” The sound of Remus' smile makes you smile, your cheek smushing into James’ chest. “She’s just taken Jamie. If we let her go on like this, she’ll have them both sleeping ‘til tomorrow.”

That actually sounds rather appealing.

“They’re jealous of us,” James whispers. You hum your agreement, and he kisses the crown of your head.

“We could go to all their favorite things,” Sirius proposes. “Make them remember the benefits of leaving the couch.”

“Like what? Watch sports?”

“And eat pastries. She loves a sweet.”

“Mm, yeah. I could fancy a sweet.”

“From the shop on sixth? They should still be open, yeah?”

“Stay strong, angel,” James whispers. “Don’t let them break you.”

“They ought to be. Oh, and the pub down that way will be showing the Manchester match tonight. We could stop and see that.”

“Sick and twisted!” James throws the blanket off, uncovering you in the process. “You never watch football with me.”

“I have,” Remus hedges, “that one time.”

“Last year! And you were reading your book on the other side of the pillow!”

He turns sheepish. “Didn’t realize you’d noticed that.”

“But now you’re going to watch it just to spite me?”

“No,” Sirius admits. “We were never going to watch football, Jamie, sorry.” James deflates, and you squeeze him tight around the middle in a show of solidarity.

“But we can go by the bakery on our way to Marlene’s thing,” Remus says, adding when you perk up, “if we leave soon enough. They make those danishes you like on Fridays, don’t they?”

“Seriously?” you ask, your voice croaky and hopeful.

“That’s me, babe,” Sirius teases, “and I’m down to stop by, but only if I get what I’m owed.” At your blank look, he raises a dark brow. “My welcome home kiss?”

Oh. “You’re gonna have to come down here,” you mumble. He makes a show of rolling his eyes, but obliges you, bending at the waist to take your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours firmly. He does the same to James once you’re done, straightening with a satisfied look on his face.

“Appeased?” Remus asks placidly.

“Yes,” Sirius answers, “the evening may now continue. Up, you two. We’ve got places to be.”

963 notes · View notes

whytheylosttheirminds · 3 hours

Text

I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron

(Prologue and Chapter 1)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

Prologue

Before gold, before grams, before the gun, there was you. Back when there weren’t crosses to steal, lines to snort, cops to run from, there was you. Long summer nights on the Druthers, your mom blowing up your phone ‘cause you missed curfew again. Skipping class and riding to the beach on the back of his bike. All the way back to grade school, playing tag and pretending you were pirates. Then middle school, that kiss under the lifeguard tower, a first for both of you. In high school, the night you got back from the “character-building summer camp” you had been shipped off to and you shared your other first. When you were first together, it didn’t even hurt, but just felt like fucking finally.

He remembers it all, taking all of his strength to keep it stuffed under the surface. The coke, the violence, the drama he creates in his wake cover you up nicely, until those nights when he’s dead asleep and there you are again, leaving. When he wakes, it all comes back to him. How he sat on the curb and watched you go, bloody and hurt from the night that was your final straw. How he showed up on your doorstep the next day, like he was five-years-old again asking if you could come outside and play. How your mother told him you were gone and wouldn’t tell him where you went.

“Honey,” she said with something like pity in her voice, “Promise me, you’ll let her go, let her be happy.”

A promise he kept, until the day you rolled back into town with no warning. Your timing could not have been worse. After the summer from hell, the summer that made him a killer, he finally felt like he was in control. It wasn’t until he saw you, the only person in the world that ever really knew him, that he realized he had no idea who he was.

Chapter One

You clutched your phone tight, reading and rereading the message. One you used to get nearly every night but hadn’t seen in two long years.

party at cameron’s tonite !!

It was a group text, sent by the girl from your high school you bumped into in the grocery store earlier that day. You had been back on the island for all of an hour before inevitably seeing someone you knew. You tried to duck quickly into the cereal aisle, but she caught your eye before you could disappear, an action you were infamous for.

“Omg, we need to hang out soon!” She had said, before handing you her phone to put your new number in.

You smiled your fakest smile and said, “it’s a must!” You didn’t think either of you really meant it, but apparently she had.

There were eleven or twelve other numbers in the group text, none you had saved, but you assumed they were likely other people from your high school. She probably just added anyone in her contacts she could think of, not even stopping to realize she was inviting the Kook prince’s former princess to his party. Your relationship had been the stuff of legend on this island. Everyone had an opinion, you were practically a celebrity couple, and it was the biggest news on the island for months when you left, suddenly disappearing overnight. Some real shit must’ve gone down around here since then to make it such old news that this girl didn’t even think about it when adding you to this text.

Your heart pounding in your ears, you couldn’t believe it when you felt yourself typing out i’ll be there :)

You wore your hair down, the way you always used to have it in high school. After you left, you had cut it short, wanting to shed away as much of your old life as you could, but in the last few months you’d started to let it grow back. Now it flowed down to the middle of your back, tickling the skin of your shoulders where the thin spaghetti straps of the little dress you had on left them exposed. You let the front pieces fall around your face, a sort of curtain to keep an extra layer between you and the other partygoers.

You could not believe you were here. For real this time, not in a dream as you had been every night for two years, but really here.

As you walked down the gravel path, it all came rushing back. The smell of Rose’s garden, the distant sound of the ocean lapping against the shore, the low thud of the music echoing through the crisp evening air. How many times have you walked down this path? How many nights had you spent here, your senses filled with the glory of Tannyhill, the glory of him? And yet now it felt so heavy, the sights, sounds, smells of it all were nearly choking you. Tears welled in your eyes, but something kept your feet walking towards those grand front doors, towards him.

Four years earlier…

The glass panes of the front door are slightly blurred, only revealing the soft lighting of the grand entryway on the other side. You had crossed this threshold at least a thousand times in the ten years since your family moved to this island. Knocking felt strange, you felt so small standing here in the porch light, surrounded by moths and the thick coastal August air. An envelope, wrinkled from being opened and rifled through so many times, was clutched between your clammy hands.

A figure you couldn’t quite make out approached the door, and your heart pounded in your ears as you hoped desperately it would be him who opened the door. But it wasn’t.

“Oh, hey - I- hi, Mr. Cameron,” you stammered, ever intimidated by the island’s most powerful man.

“Y/N,” Ward nodded cordially. “It’s after 10pm.”

You smiled weakly, if you felt small before, you feel positively infantile now.

“I was just hoping I could see Rafe for like, just a second,” you pleaded, putting on your sweetest smile.

“He’s studying,” Ward said. “You can come back tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Before you could protest, the door was closed and the blurred figure retreated into the house.

Never one to give up, you stuffed the letter into the back pocket of your jeans, and stepped back from the porch, sizing up the massive house to see which rooms still had lights on. You knew the blueprint of this place by heart, checking off each family member mentally as you scanned their window for signs of life. Wheezie’s room? Dark. Sarah’s room? Dark. Rose and Ward’s room? Still lit. This would have to be a stealth mission.

You snuck around the side of the house and looked up at the last window on your list. To your excitement, the room was still lit. You saw a long shadow pass by the curtains, and you actually jumped a little from the thrill. After spending the longest summer of your life apart from the one person you wanted to spend it with, he was actually right there, just two stories off the ground.

You traveled 800 miles today, what was a few more feet? Blocking out the better judgment ringing in the back of your mind, you picked up a few pebbles from the rocky path that leads to the backyard, and started climbing the big tree that grew right up past Rafe’s balcony. How you were gonna get from the tree to the balcony? That was five-minutes-from-now-you’s problem. You chuckled to yourself as your body naturally found each branch and knot on the tree. You used to have competitions when you were kids to see who could climb this tree the fastest, and you beat Rafe everytime. You remembered the shocked look on his face the first time he saw you scurry up the tree, you were hoping for a similar level of approving surprise once you got where you were going.

Once you reached the branch directly across from Rafe’s balcony, you pulled one of the pebbles from your pocket and chucked it at his window as hard as you could.

“Shit,” you whisper-yelled as the throw fell short and the pebble dropped, loudly knocking into the first floor window below. You couldn’t afford another noise-causing miss, so you recalculated the throw and bit your lip as you lobbed the next pebble hard. It smacked into Rafe’s window with a loud TINK and you smiled in satisfaction. You waited a moment, then two, and still nothing. The shadowy figure did not return to the curtain. You only had one pebble left, and you had never been good at climbing back down this tree. Remembering the time you fell out of it onto the waiting Rafe below, and you both ended up needing stitches, your stomach twisted in fear. You took in a deep breath and held it, letting the last pebble fly. Another sharp TINK, and a moment of baited breath later, the tall shadow finally returned to the window.

Rafe opened the curtains harshly and you immediately broke into a wild smile. He looked so cute in his fitted gray t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, his normally gelled back her falling in messy pieces around his face. You held back a giggle, delighted by the completely confused look on his face as he searched out the window for the cause of the sound. He lifted the window open and examined the two pebbles that had fallen on the windowsill.

You took the opportunity to whisper a loud “psssst.” His face shot up in surprise and his eyes finally found you in the tree, just a few feet off of the balcony. Where you expected to see surprised delight on his face, you instead caught something cold and irritated.

“Y/N,” he whisper-called to you. “What are you doing?”

“I just got back, I wanted to see you!” You called to him, hoping his apparent anger was just in response to his own shock.

“I’m busy.” Rafe went to close the window and you felt your moment of opportunity slip away.

“Wait!” you stopped him. “Please don’t make me climb down. We both know it won’t end well.” You smiled a sweetly shy smile you hoped would melt his icy demeanor a bit.

He sighed and looked at you annoyed for a moment before climbing out the window, his height requiring him to duck low in order to make it through. He had grown even taller over the summer, he must have hit 6 foot by now, maybe more. Your stomach flipped as you watched his athletic frame emerge from his bedroom, now able to see how defined his arms looked in the moonlight. You’d always thought he was a cute boy, but the way he looked right now lit a fire in your belly. Then you realized what it was - while you were gone, the cute boy-next-door had become a man.

“Just reach over,” he directed you.

“I don’t think I can without falling,” you explained. “I think I’m gonna have to jump.”

“Are you stupid?” He scoffed humorlessly.

Your heart sank, the boy you left behind three months ago never would have called you stupid.

“It’ll be fine, you just have to catch me,” you explained.

He rolled his eyes and opened his arms, reaching them over the bannister of the balcony, “fine.”

The brief moment of joy you got from his submission faded fast as you made the mistake of looking down at the gap between the tree and the balcony.

“Actually…” you said, bravery fading.

“What, are you scared?” Rafe taunted.

“No!” you insisted. You smiled at him, suddenly feeling like the two of you were ten again and he was daring you to jump off the trampoline into the pool in your backyard.

Now or never. With a deep breath and a sharp yelp, you threw yourself out of the tree and towards his waiting arms on the balcony. As promised, he caught you, and pulled you quickly over the bannister. His arms wrapped around your waist, yours around his shoulders, he held you there just a few inches off the ground.

You flattened your hands against the taut muscles of his shoulders, delighting in the strong warmth of them. But before you could fully revel in the feeling of being in his arms, he released his grip on your waist and you dropped the final few inches to the ground. Rafe quickly stepped back, breaking the lock your arms had around his neck. Despite the southern summer heat, the air between you suddenly felt ice cold.

“Rafe,” you whispered, stepping towards him, but he only pulled further away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said without even looking at you.

Rafe started back towards his window, and something gave you the feeling he was not going to invite you to follow him through it.

“I need to talk to you,” you started to explain.

Rafe whipped around to face you, the way he towered over you at his new height sending goosebumps down your spine.

“Why don’t you go talk to your new boyfriend instead?” He snapped.

You were so stunned that you let out a little laugh, which only made his furrowed brow scrunch even more in anger.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“I saw the pictures your camp was posting on their website all summer. I saw you wrapped around that douchebag.”

It took a moment of confused silence for you to realize what he was talking about, when it finally dawned on you, you laughed again. He turned from you and started heading towards the window again, but you caught his arm, your hand not able to fit even halfway around it.

“No, Rafe,” you explained, “That was just Andy, one of the other campers. We were doing a trust fall exercise. He dropped me like two seconds after that!”

Despite himself, Rafe turned to look at you, eyes examining you nervously.

“Are you ok?” He asked in a small voice, wishing desperately that he didn’t care.

You smiled softly, there he was - your boy.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, showing him the small scar on your wrist. “Just a little scrape.”

A moment passed, he avoided your eyes but allowed you to step closer, your hand sliding down his arm and slipping into his, his fingers reluctantly intertwining with yours. You knew exactly what words he was struggling to find, but decided to let him get there on his own.

Finally, “Why didn’t you answer my letters?”

Your other hand reached into your back pocket and pulled out the envelope you had tucked away. You held it out to him wordlessly. He took the letter and held it to the light coming from his room, examining it with a confused look. The envelope was addressed to him at Tannyhill, from you at camp. When he finally noticed the “return to sender” label, it all clicked.

“They kept getting returned to me, I don’t know why,” you said as you squeezed his hand. “I asked to use my phone to let you know but they wouldn’t let me. I almost just snuck out of camp and came home so I could explain it to you.”

“Your mom would’ve been so mad,” he said, finally, finally smiling at you.

“Then she would’ve just taken away my phone and we’d be back where we started,” You said. “There’s like twenty more letters like that. I don’t know why they never made it to you, it’s like someone was sabotaging me.”

Rafe seemed satisfied with your explanation and the remaining bit of anger on his face melted away completely. He stuffed the letter in his pocket and suddenly threw his arms around you, lifting you in the air as you yelped in surprise, giggling as he started planting sloppy kisses all over your face and neck.

“Shhh, baby, my parents will hear you,” he whispered. “They’ve got me locked in my tower because I failed my last quiz in this fucking summer school pre-calc class.”

“Rafe!” you said in mock-scandal. “Naughty language!”

“Oh, baby, I can say way naughtier things than that,” he growled in your ear, your cheeks now burning from real-scandal.

“C’mon,” he said, setting you down and grabbing your hand, to lead you to his still-open window.

He placed his large hand on the small of your back as he helped you through the window, climbing in after you and closing it slowly so as to not make a sound.

You and Rafe had done some more-than-kissing things before, but that was the night you gave yourselves to each other completely. He held you after, softly kissing the scar on your arm from when Andy had dropped you.

“Never gonna let that Andy asshole touch you again,” he said between kisses. “He can find his own girl, you’re mine.”

You giggled and he looked up at you in confusion.

“Rafe,” you were laughing hard now. “Andy’s gay.”

He broke into a bashful grin, a quick blush of embarrassment swept across his cheeks before he grew serious again and started kissing up your arm.

“I don’t care,” he said. “They should all know - all the Andys and Jakes and Chads and whoeverthefucks,” his kisses had reached your neck, “no guy is ever gonna get to touch you like me.” He pulled back and looked into your eyes with a sincerity that squeezed your heart. “Gonna love you forever. Gonna marry you, make you a mom. Never gonna spend three months, or even three fucking days away from you again. That what you want?”

“Yes,” you breathed, meaning it with your whole being.

“Good.”

Now…

The memories flooded your brain as you opened the door and stepped into the home you used to think would be yours someday. The party was swelling, the vibe feeling so familiar and so uncomfortable at the same time.

You made your way straight to the kitchen, desperately needing a drink. Every step you took sent a memory flashing through your thoughts like a shock to your brain. You passed the living room and saw movie-nights-turned-make-out-sessions on the couch, playing mario kart with Sarah and Wheezie while Rafe laughed at your hyper-competitiveness, prom pictures in front of the fireplace. You passed the dining room and saw the first family dinner you were invited to, how you made Ward laugh with a story about fishing your own dad used to tell, how Rafe squeezed your thigh under the table in pride. You entered the kitchen and saw the time you and Rafe set off the smoke alarm trying to make pancakes, the time he lifted you onto the counter and went down on you when his family was out of town. And then, standing by the keg, you saw the girl who invited you, clearly plastered already.

“Omg!” She yelled when she saw you.

Everyone else in the large kitchen turned and looked at you. It felt dramatic, but you could swear the whole room fell silent when they saw you, a comical record scratch playing in your head.

The girl who invited you ran over to you, beer sloshing over the side of her solo cup and onto her shirt.

“I can not believe you came,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I completely forgot when I invited you, about, you know, you and-”

“Can I get one of those?” you cut her off quickly, gesturing towards her drink.

Before she could answer, a loud crash came from outside the kitchen’s open french doors. The heads that had all been watching you suddenly snapped toward the sound towards the crowded back yard. When the loud bellow of a man’s voice rang out, the people in the kitchen all ran towards the unfolding scene. You pushed through the crowd and out the doors, drawn inexplicably to the voice. Your heart dropped to your stomach when you realized why - it was Rafe.

There in the backyard, packed with drunk people and lit by string lights, Rafe stood with his fist clenched in the collar of some guy’s white button up, forcefully pulling the scared looking dude toward him while he yelled.

“I said none of that fucking cheap shit,” Rafe yelled at the guy you now realized was a cater-waiter.

“I’m sorry sir, I-” Rafe threw the man down and he fell back in the dirt.

“This isn’t some ghetto block party out in The Cut,” Rafe yelled. “Do you know who’s fucking house you’re at right now?”

The crowd around you watched, most smiling in support of the man they looked at like he was a rockstar. You cringed at the looks of admiration in their eyes and took Rafe in with your own.

He looked different, harder. His floppy blond locks had been shaved off, and he had traded old t-shirts and jeans for slacks and a polo. He was as tall and built as you remembered, but instead of it being endearing, it was just scary as he looked down at the poor server like he was gonna kill him.

Then he spat on him. He actually spat on another human being. It disgusted you in more ways than one, and you felt your heart breaking in your chest as you realized you had no idea who this man was. The boy who held you on that night four years ago and promised to be yours forever clearly didn’t live here anymore. You turned quickly and pushed back through the crowd, unable to watch another second of this sickening display of toxic masculinity.

Rafe glared down at the pogue-scum in the dirt below him, an eerily familiar feeling washed over him as something moved quickly in the corner of his eye. He turned at just the right moment to see a whip of long hair disappear through the crowd. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t possibly be. Surely, it was not you.

to be continued

a/n: Hiiii this is the first fic I've posted in about 10 years!! Hope you enjoyed, forgive me if I'm rusty! More chapters to come :)

147 notes · View notes

666writingcafe · 1 day

Text

A Decision

Returning to the manor after spending the day with my parents, I can immediately tell something's not right. There's usually some amount of noise that can be heard from outside, but not this time. Everything's eerily quiet.

I pull out my knife as I slowly walk up to the front door. I'm not about to let someone kill me. Not without putting up a good fight, anyway.

A note is taped to the front door, addressed to me. Glancing around to make sure no one is lurking in the shadows, I carefully take the note off and open it.

Welcome to your preliminary test. There are six stages, and you must pass each one in order to get your next star. Your goal is simple: do not succumb to temptation. On the table right inside the door is a ring that will be used to track your progress. Once you put it on, the first stage of your test will begin. If you do not wish to start this test, please text either Solomon or me, and we will stop things immediately. You will also get the opportunity to end the test after each stage. This is designed to push your limits, so it is completely understandable if you are unable to finish, in which case you will be judged solely on the stages you do complete. Good luck, MC. You're going to need it. -Azzy

Well, at least I don't have to deal with a serial killer.

I stick the note in my pocket and sit down on one of the patio chairs, mulling over my options. If Asmo's involved in this test, then most likely my next star will be the one for chastity. After all, it's the virtue that's opposite to lust. The fact that this has been sprung on me, while annoying, isn't a huge problem. I've done fairly well on pop quizzes before. If this was being administered before Asmo had successfully charmed me, then I'd be more confident in my ability to pass.

But that isn't the case. He's seen my deepest, wildest fantasies, and I have no doubt that he's selected six of them to be used against me. And since they're not limited to just one or two people...

I pull out my D.D.D. and tap on the chat icon. It's one thing to daydream about doing sexy things with these people, but to actually go through with them is something else entirely. I don't know if I'm ready.

But then I remember how dull the last test was. I felt like I was sleepwalking through most of it, because it felt like a huge waste of time. I figured out the "twist" about having to fight Solomon long before it actually happened.

Perhaps not knowing what I'm up against will be better for me in the long run. It'd certainly be more interesting, that's for sure.

Sticking the phone back in my pocket, I take a deep breath before getting up. Worst case scenario, I'm only able to complete the first stage, and that wouldn't be the end of the world.

Stepping inside the manor, I grab the ring off the table before shutting the door behind me.

"Well, here goes nothing," I tell myself, slipping the ring on.

#obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me asmo #obey me solomon

34 notes · View notes

buttercupp-baby · 1 day

Text

Wedding Preparations

Characters: Gojo Satoru x fem reader

Word Count: 672

Trigger Warnings: Marriage, scars, talks of loved one passing

Before I knew it, it was the summer of our third year going on our fourth or the summer of my wedding.

You look absolutely stunning sweetie,” Gojo’s mom squeezed my arm in excitement. This was the 30th dress she had made me try on, “how does it feel?”

“Um good, it's a little tight no?”

“That’s how it’s supposed to feel,” she waved me off.

“Right,” I awkwardly nodded.

“Now sweetie, I’ll admit I’ve been avoiding this for a while now but um, your scar,” I touched my scarred arm, “It would be more modest if you were to cover it up, I’m sure you understand with the type of audience that will be in attendance

“Yeah, you’re right,” I said a little emotionlessly

“I’m glad you understand”

“I really liked that one dress, the one that had a low neckline with lace sleeves. What about you? Or we could always try on some more?

No,” I quickly said, “I mean, I also really liked that one, let's go with it”

“Perfect, you have excellent taste,” she squealed. Gojo’s mom has been nothing but nice since the engagement was announced, but I was tired, sad, angry, and just wanted to go home to my bed.

“Today was such a productive day, I’m glad we were able to come to agreement for everything,”

“Me too,” I sighed as the workers helped me out of the dress.

“Have tea with me before you take off for the day, will you?”

“Of course Ms. Gojo

Her personal driver brought us back to the Gojo estate where she and I ended up having tea in her garden.

“You know I was 16 when I married Satoru’s father,” she smiled at me

“That’s really young,”

“It is. Everything was really confusing and chaotic and difficult for me. My mom taught me how to be a dutiful wife and a beautiful bride all while preparing for the wedding. I apologize I’m beating around the bush, what I’m trying to say is that it must be a bit saddening and scary and lonely to not have your mom here with you for such a big moment. And I wanted to say I’m here for any questions or any emotions you may be feeling,” my eyes were watering in realization.

“Thank you, Mrs. Gojo, I really appreciate it, you have no idea. Thank you.

The drive back to school was relaxing enough to be out of heels. She had been right, I do miss my mom. I do wish she was here. I do wish she would be there on my wedding day. I do wish she was there when I tried on wedding dresses. I just wish my mom was here. I took a deep breath as I realized we were approaching jujustu tech. Satoru was at the entrance waiting for me. He opened my door and welcomed me with a smile, “Sooooo how’d it go?”

Holding my heels in my left hand I climbed out of the car, “You have no idea how grateful I am to breathe and walk without a stabbing pain.” Satoru cringed as I told him. He took my heels from my hand as we walked onto campus.

He sighed,” I’m sorry, I know my mother can be a bit overbearing, but she means well.”

I giggled, “I know. She was really kind.”

“Really? You were able to pick the flower arrangements, the color of the tablecloths, even the color of the napkins without a fight?”

“You’re being dramatic. Your mother has good taste, there was no fighting”

“How? I could barely leave the house without her commenting on the way I looked and I always look amazing.

“Everything went well, our wedding will be in a week and everything will be perfect. Your mother made sure of it.

At this point in our walk, we were outside my dorm. “Thank you, good sir, for accompanying me to my doorstep, but I really need a bath right now. See ya.”

“See ya, sweetheart”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Notes:

This is the first fanfic I've posted feedback is much welcome, please remember to be kind. Please let me know if I missed any trigger warnings. I hope you like it, there are more to come.

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

27 notes · View notes

asimmutableasgravity · 2 days

Text

our doubts are traitors (m4m extra!)

Gale is intimately familiar with how Bucky looks asleep.

They were bunkmates back in basic training. Bucky took the bottom bunk, so the sounds of him flopping onto the bed and his snoring became commonplace. It was as casual to him as a CO shouting at the squadron or the dishwater they pawned off as coffee there.

Gale leans on the doorframe.

The lights are off, but moonlight streams into the room through the window. It paints him blue, and his mouth hangs open. His curls have escaped their pomade prison. The wrinkles and the hardness on his forehead have smoothed out.

Does he dream like Gale does?

Does his face ever contort in a scream that shakes the house? Does he feel the blood and dirt on his face? Does he hear gunshots by his ear, as if a Kraut is right by his bed?

Bucky shifts in his sleep.

The beds back in the Stalag were miniscule for Gale, and certainly for the taller man currently asleep. A limb or two of his would usually hang off the bed by morning. He remembers a night earlier in the week and the image that seemed to be a weekly occurence back in Basic: Bucky slung over Gale's shoulder, and Gale having to make sure he would not veer the man off the road with how much he was carrying.

Everyone must have thought that he was miserable as he played babysitter. But they never saw how much of the nights at bars were for his benefit. He always knew when Gale was feeling the most like shutting himself off, and used those nights to break out a new song or dance at the club.

"Feeling better, Cleven?" He would ask later that night, patting at his cheek.

He would shake his head, and reply back something inane. "Would be better not lugging dead weight."

Bucky would howl with laughter into the night, and he would hold onto the drunkard tighter.

Gale walks into the room. He ignores sitting on the bed, in favour of squatting in front of his bed. He smooths back his hair on his forehead. It was a tic he developed in the camp as a way to check for a fever.

He remembers every single daydream Bucky offered him in the early days of the camp. Before he started turning inwards, there were moments where he would sit with Gale and tell him everything he wanted to do and bring Gale around for.

We could see a Yankees game, and you would enjoy it! You would! I can bring you home, and I'll show you this lake, don't know if you've heard it-- We could see Lady Liberty, do you think they'd give us a medal for protecting her against Jerry fire?

Gale sighs. He thought of those more often then he wanted to admit. Yes, he wanted to kiss Marge and see his father's grave again, but those images of him and Bucky going around the states got him through cold and crazy nights. They would have been free from statutes or commands, just the two of them with the world behind them.

The nights when they would hear gunshots through the night, or after days where he was so sure Bucky would provoke a guard a bit too much, he kept thinking of how Bucky would look like driving on the open road.

He would have the brightest smile, and without his cap, his curls would blow with the wind. His eyes would be bright and full of life. He would get a tan, obviously, and his pale neck would look sun-kissed. Beads of sweat under the hot sun would trace his sharp cheekbones, but he would still look as comfortable as possible. The air would feel amazing then, his laughter lingering in it.

He closes his eyes, and his most recent nightmare comes back to him. Bucky, his neck torn with a bullet. Bucky, with his eyes losing their spark. Bucky, whose mouth would move but no melodious word coming out. Gale's hands covered with blood. Gale's hands counting, counting, until there were no beats left to count.

He leans forward, and lays his head in Bucky's neck. He breaths in his scent, sweat and cigarettes and his own soap. He presses his head in and turns, and he feels more than hears the breath on his face. Alive, alive, alive. He pulls back a little bit so that he doesn't touch anything, but he lets himself count the times he inhales.

He always sneaks out to smoke, which Marge appreciates. Gale always watches him leave, and wonders if this will be the night he would join him outside. He loves listening to the radio with Marge, and reading in their bed with her. There's a peace in it that he has not had in his grasp since the war started.

But hearing Bucky ramble on, nicotine heavy on his breath and his voice deep and passionate, was something Gale will never be willing to pass up on. He had gone so long with Bucky beside him, and then he had him torn away again, and had him back in the worst way, and now after so much worry, he was here.

Marge is his wife, but Bucky will be the one who knows him best.

He should go back to his bedroom. He should pull back the cover, slip in beside his wife and give her a kiss on the cheek. He will.

But he stays just a little longer.

(minnie just wanted to stare at callum turner's face hehe)

#the enxt chapter will be SO FUN #like #im so excited and so scared #m4m #mota #masters of the air #clegan #buck x bucky #mota fic #john bucky egan #john egan #gale buck cleven #gale cleven #bye guys see u next weekend

17 notes · View notes

hotmessmaxpress · 2 days

Text

Today during the podium celebrations with the VR46 team I thought "damn it must be hard for Luca to see that from P17 and a different team" and then I thought "they should have sex about it".

So here's some Bezz/Luca

🏍️

Luca knew that the transition with Honda would be a challenge. He wasn’t stupid; Vale may hate him, but Marc Marquez is one of the best riders in the history of the sport. If he couldn’t tame the bike, Luca isn’t arrogant enough to assume he’d be able to get on it and succeed immediately.

He hadn’t expected it to be this bad, though.

P17, only because everyone below him had DNF’d. The most consistent thing about the bike seems to be riding it into last place.

Bezz is on the podium. A triumphant P3, behind Pecco and Marquez. Luca can hear the celebrating and cheering as he goes through his post-race motions. He’s not next door to Bezz anymore– no matter how much he wants to appear in his box and wrap him up in a prosecco-soaked hug, he can’t. He’s a Honda rider now; he has team debrief and responsibilities.

He keeps himself cool and professional as always, giving practical feedback and reaffirming his confidence in the team’s ability to turn things around. He’s exhausted by the time he’s finally done with his responsibilities, and he can tell by the noise level that the celebrations have made their way from Bezz and Pecco’s respective boxes to some other location.

He checks his phone and finds a drunken flurry of texts from Bezz, and suddenly the emotion of everything hits at once.

He knows Honda was the right move. He knows in his bones that it was right for him to move on, out of Vale’s shadow and into a team that he can make his own.

That doesn’t make it easy. VR46 was home; the team were an extension of his family. Hell, Uccio has known Vale longer than Luca has been alive. Everyone involved with the team was comfortable and warm and loved him.

Luca tells himself that he can love Honda but also miss his family. It’s like moving away from your childhood town to work in a big city, he thinks.

He misses Bezz like a limb. He wants desperately to celebrate with Bezz, to feel his face tucked into his neck the way he does when he’s so happy. He misses the sound of his laugh and the little gap between his teeth when he smiles. He wants to dig his hand into Bezz’s hair and rub his head like he’s a puppy.

Bezz facetimes him when he’s back at the hotel. Luca debates about answering, too busy allowing himself an evening to wallow before he wakes up and heads back to the track for testing in the morning.

When he does answer, he’s surprised to find that Bezz isn’t at a bar. He also doesn’t appear to be drunk, in the way Luca expected. He wonders if Vale’s presence looming over the team made them a little more cautious with the partying the night before a testing day.

Bezz is in his own hotel room.

“Luca,” he whines. “You didn’t tell me I did a good job.”

That startles a laugh out of Luca.

“I’m sorry. Good job,” Luca obliges. Bezz huffs, and Luca smiles at the pout on his face.

“I don’t like that you don’t tell me after races now. Although I guess I haven’t been doing a good job this season until today,” he rambles.

Luca laughs again.

“You’ve been doing great, Bezz.” That he himself is the one who hasn’t been doing great is left unsaid. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you every race, now. I’ll have to remember to text you.”

Bezz shakes his head.

“No, I want you to tell me in person.”

“You left,” Luca says feebly. “Before I was done with Honda.”

Bezz seems even more annoyed by that, and Luca gets the feeling that everything he’s said so far is wrong.

“What is your hotel number?”

Luca laughs, but then he sees Bezz is serious,

“Bezz, it’s late. We have testing tomorrow.”

“I don’t care,” he argues. “I just want to see you. Please? I got a podium today and I want to see you.”

Longing squeezes Luca’s chest and he quietly gives Bezz his room number. Bezz hangs up and appears five minutes later at Luca’s door. Luca lets him in, and he barely has the door closed before Bezz has wrapped himself around Luca and tucked his face into his neck.

Luca relaxes into the hug, happy to have Bezz in his arms. He missed him so dearly. It hasn’t even been that long; only a few months of racing on different teams. It feels like they’ve been separated for a lifetime.

If Luca really thinks about it, this is the first time they’ve been alone together since they both raced on the same team. Since announcing he was riding for Honda and changing his training routine, he had seen Bezz mostly with the other academy riders.

Neither of them are in a hurry to let go.

Luca is the first to pull away, but only to force Bezz to kick his shoes off and climb onto the bed with him. Bezz seems happy with that plan, and he grabs the television remote before pushing and pulling Luca into a position that he’s happy with. Then he flops down on top of Luca.

Luca’s heart is racing at the feeling of Bezz’s body on top of his, even as Bezz finds some Spanish show with English subtitles that he knows neither of them have the brainpower to follow.

Bezz seems content to tuck his face into Luca’s neck, and Luca can’t help but smile.

“Bezz?” he asks.

Bezz sits up. Their faces are too close, but neither of them move apart.

“You did a good job today,” he breathes, unable to take his eyes away from Bezz’s.

Bezz grins, toothy and happy, then he leans up, pressing on Luca’s chest hard enough to knock the breath out of him, and presses his lips to Luca’s mouth.

Luca pushes back against Bezz, taking the weight off of his chest, and he rolls Bezz so he’s laying on his back. He leans over Bezz, bracketing him with his arms, and continues kissing him. He’s not entirely sure where this came from; why Bezz decided to do this now.

He can’t say he’s never gotten the impression that Bezz could be interested in him; they used to spend hours and hours together, and there were many times that felt like they came close to something.

Apparently all it took was one Bezz podium for them to finally overcome their hesitations.

Bezz tastes and smells amazing, and now that Luca has experienced it he’s not sure he will ever be able to let him go. He sucks a mark on Bezz’s neck, and bites at his collarbone.

He thinks of their matching scars.

“Luca,” Bezz groans.

Luca smiles against Bezz’s neck.

“Yeah?”

Bezz rolls his hips up, demanding attention, and Luca tuts.

“Impatient,” he teases.

“I got a trophy today,” Bezz whines. “I deserve an award.”

Luca laughs and kisses him.

“You deserve the world,” he says. It’s corny but he means it, and judging by Bezz’s grin he understands.

Luca decides it’s imperative that he immediately get his hands on Bezz. He sits up to tug at Bezz’s clothes, and there’s an awkward few moments of shuffling and laughing as they both manage to get out of their clothes. They’re both out of breath and laughing, and Bezz basically tackles Luca onto his back on the bed.

He straddles Luca, and Luca pulls him down to kiss him. Bezz wiggles happily on his lap and Luca laughs into the kiss, teeth knocking together.

Bezz presses his face against Luca’s cheek, and they both laugh.

Luca reaches down, wrapping a hand around Bezz’s cock. It startles a choked moan out of the smaller man, and Luca grins in satisfaction.

Luca knows they won’t have sex tonight; not with a lack of lube and with the responsibility of an entire day of testing tomorrow. Still, his brain is dominated by desire to make Bezz come.

The angle is off, but he spits in his hand and starts pumping Bezz’s cock while he uses his other hand to tug Bezz’s mouth back to his.

Bezz adjusts his position, and Luca is able to take his own cock in hand with Bezz’s. The feeling of rutting against Bezz, breathing into his mouth, smelling him around him, is nearly enough to make Luca come immediately.

He manages to hold off for a bit longer, but neither he nor Bezz last long. Soon they’re both spilling over Luca’s hand, gasping into each other’s mouths.

Bezz immediately starts laughing, and collapses to the side. Luca wipes his hand on his chest, catching his breath and joining Bezz in his giggles.

“Let’s shower and sleep,” he suggests.

Bezz whines but allows Luca to tug him into the bathroom. Luca delights in soaping Bezz up, running his hands across his body and lapping water from his collarbones. He loves the way Bezz laughs, and they spend too much time messing around in the shower.

When they finally get out and dry off, they tangle themselves together back in bed.

Bezz lays down and holds his arms out, and Luca lays down on top of him, face pressed into his neck.

“I’m proud of you,” he mumbles into Bezz’s neck.

“Thank you,” Bezz breathes, running a hand through his hair.

They drift into easy sleep together soon after.

#marco bezzecchi #luca marini #what is their ship name?#mb72 #lm10

15 notes · View notes