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notlongtolove · 7 months ago

Text

like a lover

he doesn’t answer. he doesn’t even look at you again. he just shakes his head and walks into the bedroom. by the time you follow him, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it holds the answer to whatever’s boiling inside him. fine. If he wants to ice you out, two can play that game.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: hurt comfort

content: student!reader gets drunk after a brutal final and spencer is beyond mad. very brief mention of abduction. lowkey spencer is in the right bc #safety but he made reader cry n for that he is found #guilty!!!

word count: 3.1k

note: based off this ask! random fact the last line of this fic was the inspiration for empty my soul but idk why i just couldnt fit it in there, anyways i hope you guys like it! (pls tell me if u do i was struggling with a resolution for this)

a line: Spencer thinks, for a split second, that he’d rather die than ever have to see you cry like that again.

I give you an onion. It is a moon wrapped in brown paper. It promises light like the careful undressing of love. Here. It will blind you with tears like a lover. It will make your reflection a wobbling photo of grief. I am trying to be truthful. - carol ann duffy

You probably should’ve stopped five drinks ago—maybe four if you were feeling merciful. That last Vodka cran? A spectacularly bad idea. But whatever. You earned this. You’re young, you’re fun, you look good, and for the first time in weeks, you have no deadlines clawing at you. The final had been a nightmare. You knew your fate was sealed the second you flipped to question three. What the hell is textual and symbolic environmentalisation? But it’s over now. That’s all that matters.

The wind bites at your bare legs as you stand by the curb, aimlessly kicking a pebble. You hug your arms close, fighting off the chill. Maybe you should’ve brought a jacket. Spencer had suggested it, but you’d waved him off. He’s usually right.

You frown, glancing up at the street sign. He said he’d be here. Right? Your phone’s dying battery blinks at you in its final moments, mocking you before shutting off completely. Definitely should’ve taken his offer of a portable charger, too. You sigh, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

A man stumbles by, reeking of booze. You don’t need to look to know.

"Hey," he calls out, voice slurred and gravelly.

You keep your eyes down, pretending not to hear.

“Hey,” he says again, louder this time.

Where the hell is Spencer?

"D’you know when the bus starts running again?"

You hesitate, half-relieved that he’s asking something semi-coherent. "I—I’m sorry, I’m not sure."

He nods to himself, swaying on his feet.

"I told you to wait by the bodega on 3rd," a familiar voice mutters. Spencer’s hand closes around your arm, already steering you away.

"Oh, hey," you say softly, relief washing over you. "Is this not—" You glance at the street sign overhead—4 Maple Drive. Shit. "I—sorry, I thought—"

"It’s fine," he says, but the sharp edge in his voice tells you it’s not.

The car ride is suffocatingly silent. When he pulls open the passenger door for you, there’s no trace of his usual warmth. No soft smile, no gentle tease about your perpetually dead phone. Just a click of the door and the quiet thud of it shutting behind you.

You hate this. Hate the tension humming between you, the way his jaw is set tight as he drives. He was so different this afternoon, greeting you after your final with those cupcakes he knows you love from the bakery on the other side of town, his lips brushing yours in endless, giddy kisses. This Spencer is nothing like that.

"They played ‘Dancing Queen’ tonight," you venture, voice tentative. He knows it’s your favourite. Knows it always pulls you to the dance floor, no matter how tired or tipsy you are. "It was so funny—some guy bought us a round of shots—"

"And you drank it?"

The question lands heavy. His first words to you since he’d started driving.

"Well... yeah?"

"What else did you drink?"

"Not a lot," you say quickly, tripping over your words. "Just vodka, tequila, a bit of wine—"

"You mixed?"

The way he says it makes you bristle. There’s a hint of disbelief, maybe even disappointment.

"Spence," you say softly. "I’m not that drunk, I promise."

Nothing.

His knuckles tighten on the steering wheel. The silence in the air is almost tangible, a crackling, oppressive thing. When he pulls into the driveway and kills the engine, he doesn’t move to open your door. He always does that. But not tonight.

You’re pretty sure he’s mad at you, though you’re not entirely sure why. It’s not like you go out that often, and you can’t even remember the last time you let yourself get this drunk. Tonight was an exception, a celebration. He understands, doesn’t he?

You follow him inside, trailing behind like a shadow. He doesn’t head to the kitchen like he does after you get back from a night out—no tea, no toast, no quiet ritual of making sure you’re okay. Instead, he walks straight into the study, his back to you. Yeah, he’s definitely mad.

"You’re mad at me," you say, standing in the doorway.

He doesn’t answer. His hands grip the back of his chair, his head bowed like he’s trying to gather himself. You’re not one to push, usually giving him the space he needs when he gets all broody like this, but the alcohol that’s running through your system is making it hard to practice patience.

"Why are you mad at me?"

Still nothing.

When he finally moves, it’s only to brush past you, heading for the bedroom without so much as a glance. "We’ll talk about this tomorrow," he says, his tone flat, clipped. "I can’t talk to you when you’re like this."

This. The word hits like a slap, sharp and dismissive. It irks you.

"If you didn’t want to come, then you shouldn’t have come," you mutter under your breath, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "I could’ve gotten a ride—"

"You were slurring on the phone." He stops in the hallway, turning just enough for you to see the tight set of his jaw.

"Yeah, no shit, Spencer. People slur when they drink," you fire back a little too harshly, the alcohol fueling your irritation as you cross your arms defensively.

"Don’t," he warns, his voice low, dangerous in a way that makes your chest tighten.

You glare at him, heat rising in your cheeks. "Don’t what? Don’t point out how ridiculous you’re being right now?"

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look at you again. He just shakes his head and walks into the bedroom. By the time you follow him, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it holds the answer to whatever’s boiling inside him. Fine. If he wants to ice you out, two can play that game.

You head to the bathroom without a word, your movements jerky as you swipe at the remnants of your makeup. You grab your moisturizer, fingers fumbling with the cap. A sharp tug and it goes flying out of your hands, clattering to the floor.

"Fuck," you mutter, bracing yourself for a bout of instability as you bend down to retrieve it.

Before you can grab it, Spencer moves. He scoops it up, straightening with an ease that feels almost mocking. When you meet his eyes, they’re unfamiliar. It’s not the Spencer you know. Not the Spencer who covers your eyes during scary movies or kisses your forehead when you’re half-asleep. No, this Spencer feels distant, cold.

"And I’m supposed to believe you’re not that drunk," he says flatly. Your chest tightens, a lump forming in your throat as heat flushes your face. He offers a hand as you steady yourself, trying to rise to your feet, but you brush him off, snatching the bottle from his grip with a bitterness you don’t try to mask.

"What the hell is your problem?" you snap.

"My problem?" he repeats, incredulous. "I’m not the one blackout drunk on a Wednesday night."

"I’m not—"

"Would you—would you just stop!" he barks, the words sharp enough to make you flinch. "You’re slurring your words. You got the streets wrong. You couldn’t even get the damn moisturizer open," he snaps, gesturing toward you harshly with a mixture of frustration and exasperation.

Your knuckles whiten as you cling to the edge of the sink, unsure if you’re holding on for balance or just to keep from breaking. You spin back toward the mirror willing yourself not to cry. The frustration, the confusion, the ache in your chest—everything wells up at once.

"God, you’re being so—"

"So what?" he interrupts, his voice rising as he steps closer. His eyes bore into yours, daring you to say it. "So concerned? So worried? So—"

"So fucking mean!"

The silence that follows deafening. For a moment, he freezes, the hard edges of his expression softening into something else—shock, regret, guilt—but it’s fleeting.

"So what if I’m drunk?" Your voice cracks as the words tumble out, your frustration too overwhelming to contain. "And yeah, maybe—" You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat as you glare at him, "Maybe I’m slurring a little but forgive me for wanting a drink after the final I’ve been stressing over all fucking month."

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, his frustration barely contained. "It’s not about you having a drink. It’s about you not knowing your limits—"

"Oh, for fucks sake," you interrupt, throwing your hands up. The movement makes you sway slightly, and you hate how it only seems to prove his point. "Newsflash, Spencer, I’m a university student. Sometimes we get drunk. You don’t get to make me feel like shit just because you don’t drink.”

You push past him, your shoulder grazing his as you move to sit on the edge of the bed. The mattress dips under your weight, and you grip the edge, willing the room to stop spinning.

"You were being reckless," he bites back, the word hanging heavy in the air. "You don’t see what I see. You’re out alone, you don’t—"

"I wasn’t alone," you say, your voice rising to meet his. "I had friends—"

"Yeah, friends who left you alone on a curb at 3am," he shoots back, cutting you off. The words land with precision, a calculated jab, but you refuse to flinch.

"Because you said you were on the way!" you fire back.

His voice is cold now, practically seething. "And what do you think would’ve happened if I hadn’t reached you just as that guy was coming on to you?"

"He was asking for the bus!" you shoot back, the words ringing out louder than you intended. You hate everything about this fight. You hate how unfamiliar he feels, hate the part of you that wonders if you’re the one who brought this out of him. "Nothing would’ve—"

Spencer’s expression darkens, his gaze narrowing. "Nothing?" He scoffs. "Tell that to Nina Radha. To Caroline Wrenley. To Mindy Denver. They were all ‘just waiting for a ride home’ last week. And now? All abducted. All dead."

The room goes silent. Your chest tightens, and the fight drains out of you as his meaning sinks in.

"You’re being cruel," your words are barely audible, trembling on the edge of your lips. The tears come faster now, streaking your face, but you don’t bother wiping them away. "Why—" you whisper, weak and watery, "Why are you being like this?"

When Spencer finally turns to look at you, the sight of your tears stops him cold. They streak your face in uneven paths, and he feels something inside him splinter. Spencer never likes seeing you cry—he hates it, actually. It’s not just discomfort or unease; it’s a literal, physical ache. But knowing he’s the reason for your tears tonight? That’s pain in its most visceral form. It’s failure in its purest state.

"I—" he starts, his voice faltering. It cracks mid-sentence, and he stops, swallowing hard. His breath shudders as he exhales, trying to find the words, but all that comes out is a quiet, broken, "I was scared."

Your tears have momentarily slowed, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. The anger in his voice has faded, replaced by something softer, something raw—fear, tangled with guilt, with regret. He takes a tentative step closer, then hesitates, unsure of what to do.

"I thought that… something could’ve happened to you, and I—I didn’t know how to handle it."

After a moment, he lowers himself to your level, crouching in front of you. He lifts his hand, reaching out to wipe away the tears that stain your face. But the instant his fingers near you, you flinch, turning your head to avoid his touch. The movement is small, but Spencer’s heart shatters at the rejection all the same. He hates that he’s made you cry, hates that you won’t let him near you, hates that you won’t even look at him.

"I’m sorry," he says, the words low and weighted with sincerity. He knows it’s not enough, but it’s all he has left to give.

Your tears fall, dripping onto your hands that rest limply in your lap. You shake your head, your shoulders tense, refusing to meet his eyes. The rejection stings, sharper than he expected, but he doesn’t blame you. He knows he deserves this. The room is still except for the sound of your quiet sniffles.

Spencer tries again, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. "I just—" His breath catches as he exhales, his hand running through his hair in agitation, the movement more to calm himself than anything else. "When I saw you standing there alone—alone and with that man, I got scared. And I lashed out. I shouldn’t have. You didn’t— you didn’t deserve that."

The silence that follows is thick, but finally, you break it. Your voice is quiet, bitter.

"I’m not them."

You’re still not meeting his eyes, still keeping that distance, but at least it’s something.

"Those girls… I’m not them, Spencer."

"I know, I know. I was—", his voice is low, the regret weighing heavily on every syllable.

"That case was tough on you, I know it was," you interrupt, "And what happened to those girls, it was horrible. But I'm not them, Spence. I'm not…" Spencer watches helplessly as you furiously wipe away a tear from your cheek.

"I'm not dead. I'm here."

“I was projecting, I—” His voice catches, “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” he admits quietly. You nod, grimly. Another single, heavy tear slips down your cheek and Spencer feels his heart break all over again.

"I know you’re scared. How do you think I feel every time you go out into the field?" You take a deep breath, and say bitterly, "I get it."

Each word is a struggle, but you say it with conviction. He can see how much you’re holding in, the effort it takes for you to keep your voice from cracking.

You pause, swallowing hard as you steady yourself, "But you—You don’t get to talk to me like that." When your eyes meet his, they flash with both anger and sadness. "You don’t get to take that out on me."

"I know, I—That was—I was being horrible, I was an ass," Spencer admits, his voice small. "You didn’t deserve that, honey. God, I’m just—I’m so, so, sorry."

You look at him for a long moment, searching for any sign that he’s being sincere. All you see is regret, raw and heavy. And something else, something softer. Love. He reaches out, and this time you don’t pull away. Just getting to touch you is a brief, bittersweet, blinding relief. Spencer lets his fingers graze your cheek as he wipes away your tears gently, his thumb brushing over the wet path they’ve left behind.

A soft, almost bitter laugh escapes you. "An ass is putting it lightly."

Spencer’s chest tightens, a small breath of relief escaping him, though it’s quickly replaced with guilt. "M’so sorry sweetheart," he breathes out, comforted by the familiar bite in your tone. It lightens the air between you, just a little.

He shifts to sit next to you on the bed. "I didn’t—I really didn’t mean to," he says quietly. You rest your head on his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh, the fight slowly draining out of you. Spencer gently takes your hands, cradling them in his.

"I—I never want to hurt you, never want to make you cry. Ever." Spencer's voice cracks slightly as he talks, fingers tracing your palm. "You know that, right?"

You nod, your voice small but steady. "I know."

Shifting, you tuck your legs beneath you, turning to face him fully. Your hands lift to cup his face gently, your thumbs brushing against the faint stubble on his jaw. The touch is tender, almost protective, as you guide his face to meet yours. His eyes can’t hold your gaze for long, shame clearly written across them.

"I was just—I was—" He stumbles over his words.

"Scared," you finish softly, filling the silence for him.

"I—I’m sorry," Spencer’s voice falters, "I’m really sorry honey, I should’ve never—That was—"

Your hands guide his face back toward yours, coaxing him to meet your eyes. This time, he doesn’t resist, his breath shaky as he clings to the comfort you offer. "S’okay, baby. M’not mad anymore," you murmur.

"Sad?" he asks, his voice barely audible, like he’s afraid of what you’ll say.

"No," you smile faintly, shaking your head, "Not sad, baby," you whisper, leaning closer. Your thumb traces the curve of his cheek in silent reassurance. His shoulders relax just a little. "I just—" you sigh as you let out one last, quiet sniffle, "I really hate fighting."

Carefully, he coaxes you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you. "Me too, honey," he says, his voice thick with emotion as he shifts closer. You don’t resist, letting your head rest in the crook of his neck, your breath warm against his skin.

"S’not nice," you murmur against him, your words muffled.

"I know, I know," Spencer whispers, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles along your back. You let out a shaky sigh, sinking further into his embrace. “Was awful, wasn’t it?” he says, quietly.

"Mhm," you mumble quietly, your voice soft but pointed as you lean into his touch. "Made me cry," you say, looking at him through wet lashes to prove your point. Spencer thinks, for a split second, that he’d rather die than ever have to see you cry like that again. After a beat of quiet, he tilts his head just enough to press a soft kiss to your temple.

"I love you, you know that?"

You hum softly, nuzzling your face into his neck with a contented sigh, "Love you too."

"Love you so much, sweet girl," he says again, quieter this time, like it’s a truth meant only for you.

"Sap," you tease, lifting your head just enough to meet his gaze, the faintest hint of a smile on your lips.

Spencer grins, soft and boyish. "Always for you," he mumbles fondly, and before you can respond, he leans forward, pressing a playful kiss to the tip of your nose.

You stick your tongue out at him in mock protest, but he’s already chasing the moment. A kiss lands on your cheek. Then another on the other side. Each one dripping with easy affection.

"Spence—" you laugh, the sound bubbling up. It spreads a warmth through Spencer’s chest.

"My sweet girl," he says quietly, almost to himself.

His smile only grows as he drinks in the sound of your giggles, tears long gone. He presses a fluttering series of kisses across your form until you’re laughing into his lips, each kiss softer than the last.

One on your cheek, two on your shoulder, a thousand on your lips.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: false god by taylor swift moon river by frank ocean

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid x reader comfort

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bluetimeombre · 2 years ago

Text

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　° Call it what you want to, part two

[people actually liked it!!! and i loved it so here's more. p.s, i love tom blyth ever since i watched ballad of songbirds and snakes (four times in cinema) and i've loved timothee from the beginning and that's something nobody can take away from me!!!! also, i have nothing against kylie, i do not keep up with the kardashians so i can't say anything, but let's just imagine....]

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

liked by... yourusername, rachelzegler, jacobelordi, hunterscahfer & others

tomblyth: hermes camp!

tagged: yourusername

781k likes 309k comments

user: they're together omg!

user: it's happening, it's happening !!!

user: what is a hermes camp?

yourusername: personally i'm more of an ares girl but i'll take it

user: PLS

user: she's just like us

user: they're literally in love

user: IM OBSESSED WITH YOU

user: i thought she was supposed to be in london

user: there's a thing called a plane

user: TOM I LOVE YOU

user: he's so bf ahhhhh

user: do you think she's leading tom on and then gonna go for timmy

user: parents!!!

user: pls be together, i can't be a child of divorce again

user: yourusername i love you!!

user: tchalamet

user: tchamalet

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

you are calling... 'timothee chalamet'

you: timmy help me i'm so lost and my phone is on 2%

timothee *laughing*: what do you mean? where are you?

you: i have literally no idea, i went to get breakfast

timothee: whaaaat, i went to get us breakfast

you *walking around london looking very lost* well you didn't tell me that

timothee *smiling fondly at you, but you couldn't see as you were looking around the streets* i did, i told you last night i'd get you your favourite

you: there was nobody in the hotel and i didn't know what to do. timothee please tell me you have a portable charger

timothee: i have a spare one for you

you: thank you! you're a star- omg i almost got hit my a black cab

timothee: hey, where are you?

you: i don't know, i think i've gone in a massive circle. should i get a taxi back to the hotel?

timothee *who had gotten excited to see you*: no! no-urm- oh hey, wait a minute hold on

you: my phone is on 2% please! *but you hold on, watching- or more so listening- as timothee greets what you assume was a fan, he keeps his phone on, and you're smiling at the screen (and pulling the occasional face) whilst you wait. he quickly hugs the fan and pulls his phone back out to talk to you* mr hollywood!

timothee: shut up, ok where are you?

you: i think i'm like *you look around you, missing timothee grabbing a quick screenshot of your facetime* i'm by _______

timothee: ok, i know where that is, or i think i do. wait there, i'll come to you

you: oh! there's a cafe, i'll get a coffee

timothee: i've got you one here!

you: i can drink two, i promise

you put the phone down, wanting to keep whatever battery you had and ordered yourself a coffee, taking a seat by the window. you were just lucky you had your journal to keep you satisfy while you wait for timothee to somehow find you.

(little did you know he was literally jogging to meet you in the cafe with a dying phone.)

you were half way through your coffee when the bell above the door rang and he walked in. you hadn't realised, leaning over the journal and scribbling away.

timothee noticed you- it was a relatively small cafe for london. he snapped a shot of you before quietly coming up behind you. he took his cap off, throwing it on your hair.

'you could've been anyone!' you say, closing your journal and turning to him.

'morning!' he grinned taking the seat across from you and shuffling in. 'how did you get lost?'

'there was nobody in the hotel and they said you'd gone out ten minutes ago, i didn't know you could get so far in ten minutes!'

timothee slid a bag over to you. 'i got your favourites.'

you had no idea how to act around timothee. working with him was fun, easy, you guys get along great. but after filming and after you'd been on another set and done separate things, it felt different. you guys weren't in your own little worlds anymore. you were with tom blyth and he was perfect, and then timothee would do small things, give you his jumper or his cap or pick up things he specifically knew you liked. but he had a girlfriend, he had kylie jenner! there was no way he was doing this in hopes of gaining your attention. maybe it was just how he was with friends.

'you didn't have to do that,' you said, taking off his hat and putting it between you two.

he shrugged, leaning over again. 'what? c'mon, course i did. it's a big day.'

it was premier day. wonka was premiering in london. this was your third premier, but was sure to be one of the biggest.

timothee grinned at you, watching your lips quip up. he pulled out a portable charger from his pocket, offering it to you. truth is, five minutes ago he didn't have one but when you told him you needed one, on the way to meet you he grabbed one.

suddenly, the barista approached your table and you grabbed the bag, thinking she was going to tell you guys off for bringing in food and drinks from somewhere else.

'I'm so sorry, i'm a big fan,' she said.

you laugh, throwing him his hat as he blushed madly at being caught. 'i told you! you can't go anywhere!'

timothee greeted the fan warmly before also introducing you. then, she recognised you too. it was still new to you, being known and people asking for pictures or something to be signed, but you were more than happy to oblige.

and the pictures came out. a few of the two of you with fans and in some, maybe a lot, maybe even most, timothee was looking over at you.

user1: GUYS I LITERALY MET tchalamet AND yourusername THEY WERE SO SWEET AND LOVLEY

301 likes 100 comments

user: OMG LUCKY

user: were they on a date???

user1: noooo, i think they were just meeting up

user: they always look so good

user: imagine just going to work and meeting THEM

user1: they were so cute, timothee literally brought her breakfast, saying he got her favourites which means he knows her favourites, like that's goals right there!

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

liked by... zendaya, tomholland2013, florencepugh, kidcudi, yourusername & others

tchalamet: WONKA IN LONDON!

tagged: yourusername

1.2m likes 901k comments

user: style icon!!

user: does he realise there's other people but yourusername in the movie?

user: OMG I SAW YOU TONIGHT

user: can't believe i missed it!!

user: the last picture !!!!

user: WHY IS NOBDOY TALKING ABOUT THE LAST PICTURE???!!! THE WAY HE'S LOOKING AT HER

user: yourusername is stronger than me, if timothee looked at me like that i would melt

tomholland2013: looking good mate, can't wait to see the film!

tchalamet: thank you brother, lunch soon 🙏🙏

user: tomholland2013, ariana, what are you doing here

user: he put a whole post up just for her

user: I WANT YOU SO BAD

user: her dress, stunning!!!!

user: he's literally so in love with her

user: ARE THEY DATING?

user: he's with kylie!!!

user: apparently she was there last night

user: she's stronger than me, i would not let my man look at another woman like that

user: is ship it

user: is this movie a god damn musical?

user: how can she be with tom one minute then timothee the next

user: EVERYONE PLS THEY'RE LITERALY FRIENDS, TIMOTHEE MAKES FRIENDS WITH ALL HIS CO-STARS

user: friends do not look at each other like THAT

user: they'd literaly be the hottest couple in hollywood

user: power couple

user: ❤️

user: <<33

user: yourshipname

liked by... oliviarodrigo, tomblyth, tomholland2013, tchalamet, gracieabrams & others

yourusername: wonka, london! thank you so much for all the love on the movie. i want you all to love daisy as much as i do! and thank you gucci for the dress and making me one step closer to harry styles x

1.1m likes 701k comments

user: SHE'S SO FUNNY WHAT

user: GORGEOUS

user: OMG

user: 🔥🔥🔥

user: the last picture is my new screen saver thank you

user: HOW DOES SHE GET THAT CLOSE TO TIMOTHEE

user: HAWT

rachelzegler: the prettiest girl ever

yourusername: stfu, don't make me kiss you

user: first tom, now timothee, next she'll get harry

user: GUCCI OMG SLAY

user: my mother everybody, my mother

user: flawless

user: ur so beautiful

tomblyth: beautiful

yourusername liked tomblyth's comment

tchalamet: afterparty!!!

yourusername: dude, get through the premier first

wonkamovie: we love daisy!

user: timmy is literaly in love with you

user: plssss date timmy

user: i love youuuuu

user: wonka sucked!

user: slut!

yourusername: great song by taylor swift

taylorswift liked yourusername's comment

user: collaboration of gucci between harrystyles and yourusername when?

user: is hugh grant cgi in this movie or can he actually just do that?

yourusername: no cgi went into the making of this movie

user: she's so funny for what!!!!

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

'Timothee Chalamet!' he had been yelled at all night, by fans, by press, by anyone and everyone. he'd already posed for cast pictures, getting in a huge line, holding onto each other and taking the pictures.

so what if he had reached across the director, paul king's, back to hold onto your arm. and surely nobody would notice if he looked over to gage your reaction and see you smile at him. it wasn't like there were hundreds of camera's around him snapping a shot of every moment.

he headed over to the woman who had called his name, pausing by the barrier to say hello. 'yes ma'am.'

'woah, don't you look amazing, as always. first of, who are you wearing tonight, you know i got to ask!' she said.

'this is my man tom, tom ford,' he answered, laughing awkwardly at the end. 'i almost went gucci- it was almost gucci, but i couldn't do that to harry.'

'you look good either way, have you had much time with your co-stars so far tonight?'

'yea i mean, i've seen hugh, spent some time with keegan, love to see the man. we all got some photos-'

his attention and the press's attention is distracted when you stroll up to answer some questions not far from him, close enough to see how radiant you look close up. his lips turned into a smile, his arm hovering somewhere between a wave and a nudge to try to get your attenstion.

'oh woah,' might have slipped past his lips as the press held the microphone up to his lips.

'doesn't she just look fantastic?' she asked.

'hell yea!' timothee smiled, focusing back on the interview, 'always.'

'now i know you got to go soon, so just one final question, would you like a bit of chocolate?'

his face lit up. 'chocolate, oh my god i would love some, thank you. can i take two?' he asked, knowing what he'd do with the other. he was offered two little chocolates and quickly said goodbye. instead of heading into the theatre, he headed for you.

as you were chatting with the press, he didn't want to interrupt. instead, he slipped by, gently touching your arm and reaching over to whisper: 'i'll wait for you,'. but your camera caught your blush and the way you couldn't answer properly after that.

once you were done with your questions, timothee was still there waiting for you. he hugged you immediately, rubbing your arms as goosebumps rose on them. of course he'd think it's from the winter evening, when it had everything to do with him.

'you look amazing, timothee!' you gush, pulling back.

'me? look at you, you're so beautiful!' he said, keeping a hold on your arm.

'oh shut up.'

the camera's flashes were brighter, bigger and the shouts increased as they caught pictures of the two of you. but neither of you would stop for pictures, heading into the cinema.

'here.' he gave you the other little chocolate and the two of you un-wrapped them, popping them into your mouths. 'at least you didn't get lost this time.,' he joked.

you rolled your eyes.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

user: omg it's happening, it's happening

user: AHHHHHHHHHH

user: mom and dad just hard launched their relationship

user: rue, when was this?!

user: a couple days ago, after the wonka press tour and the premiers, they were seen at dinner together and making out!

user: i'm so happy

user: real life lucy-grey and coryo

user: FINALY OMG

user: what about timmy :((((( he's so in love with her

user: he has a gf

user: i feel bad for timmy

user: THE THIRD PICTURE HELLO? WHY DOES MY MAN KISS LIKE HE'S STARVING

user: he only kisses her like that

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

liked by... tomblyth, oliviarodrigo, louispartrdige_, lola.tung & others

yourusername: i love british boys (i'm literally just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her)

706k likes 201k comments

user: hard launch who?

user: they're so cute i can't

user: the caption, so real

user: omg it's so funny, do you think hugh has seen this?

user: she's back in london!!!

user: i love them please they're so cute

tomblyth: and i'm literally going to run into your press conference and ask you to be with me forever

yourusername: i'm sitting right next to you, clearly you're running nowhere

user: STOP they're so cute

user: i miss her and timmy!

user: notting hill!! she knows taste

user: i want her and timmy together

user: tom and her were made for each other, like have you seen their interviews

user: funny how timothee doesn't like pictures when it's featuring tom but he'll literally like all of her other pictures

liked by... yourusername, gq, tayrussell, emmawatson, selenagomez & others

tchalamet: thank you london! and thank you for making me a (honorary) british boy!

1.2m likes 771k comments

user: petty king!

user: plssss!! not after yourusername's post

user: he's so obessed with her i can't

user: i chose to believe yourusername took the first pic of him, it's laterally from the premier

user: COME BACK TO LONDON SOON

user: bring back little timmy tim!!!!

user: you were amazing in wonka!!

user: OMG MY MAN IS NOMINATED FOR A GOLDEN GLOBE

user: GOLDEN GLOBES BABY

user: i have the wonka soundtrack stuck in my head

user: is that yourusername in the last pic?

user: i love him!

user: marry me

user: omg he's so regulus black

user: how does he look good no matter what

user: DONT BE A FOOL AND GO GET YOUR GIRL TIMMY

user: in interviews, yourusername has literally said timmy is her celeb crush, girl same

user: how do you feel about tomblyth and yourusername?

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

582 likes

[comments restricted]

user: update, he follows one person on instragram and it's yourusername

#timothée chalamet #timothee x you #timothee x y/n #timothee x reader #timothee imagine #social media #wonka #wonka 2023 #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth

1K notes · View notes

paladin--strait · 4 months ago

Note

#5 with luke hughes 🫶🫶

the distance between us - luke hughes

in which luke is in need to comfort.

"i miss you."

the three words that he speaks make me crumble, the barely noticeable tremble in his tone, then the silence right after. "i miss you too, luke...more than you know."

i hear a shuffling on his end, like he's getting in the bed or something. a sniff, then silence. "luke..?" i whisper.

"yeah?"

"i know that this...this is a hard time for you. since jack and quinn are both hurt and now jacks in denver...but i can come up there and be with you, if you want me too?" i say, hoping my words come off as reassuring instead of insensitive.

there's silence on his end, then he speaks. "i'll be okay." i know his words don't mean to come off as mean, his voice unsure. "but if you want to come, you can."

and that's the only thing i need to hear before i set down my phone, putting it on speaker and opening my laptop. i purchase tickets that are a few hours from now, giving me just enough time to pack. "i'll be there tomorrow, about 3am at the airport."

i hear a now reassured sigh, like a breath of relief. "okay, i'll meet you there."

"luke, you stay home and get some rest. i'll use my spare key to let myself in." i say, shutting off my laptop and getting up, bringing the phone with me to grab my suitcase out of the closet.

"won't matter, i'll be too happy to see you to sleep." he laughs softly. "are you packing?" he asks. i can only assume he heard the zipper of the suitcase.

"yeah, my flight leaves in about three hours so..." i trail off, throwing clothes and toiletries in the suitcase. "and i still haven't eaten dinner. i'll probably just eat on the flight, the website said a meal or snacks would be included." he hums, then more shuffling. "it'll be a few hours, you should get some sleep."

"i'll set my alarm so i can come pick you up." his words make me smile, and i zip up the suitcase. i grab my bigger purse, throwing in some essentials like a portable charger, earbuds, and few more things. "sweetheart?" he whispers.

"yes?"

"please be careful."

"i will, i love you..." i sit on my bed, rubbing my tired eyes.

"i love you too. text me when you board."

"alright, i'll see you soon." i smile softly, ending the call. i sigh, rubbing my temple. i change into clothes that are suitable for the plane, but comfy enough for me to sleep in.

the flight lands, and i get a text from luke telling me that he's already got my suitcase and he's waiting at the luggage claim for me.

i can hardly contain my excitement for seeing luke, despite the situation he's in, especially when i see the familiar bunches of soft curls that poke out of his hat. he's faced away from me, looking around. "luke...!" i call out, practically running to him.

he turns, eyes wide as he opens his arms, dropping my suitcase handle to catch me. my carry-on hits the floor beside it, my arms wrapping around his neck. he breathes in, his face tucked into my hair. his arms are tight around me, like he's afraid of losing me.

after what feels like forever, he pulls back to look at me. his eyes are tired and sunken in, glassy with unshed tears. i can almost feel his sadness, the loneliness radiating off of him. a pang of guilt tears through me, guilt that i haven't come to him sooner.

i cup his cheeks, looking up at him. "oh luke..." my voice trembles, "let's go home." i whisper, watching him nod in agreement. we grab my bags, and walk to his car. the ride back to his apartment is silent, but it's not uncomfortable.

the car halts to a stop in the apartment complex's parking garage, a sigh leaving his lips. he takes my hand, my suitcase in the other, leading me to the apartment. it seems so empty without jack and his happy-go-lucky personality, his laugh usually echoing throughout the apartment.

i frown, immediately noticing his absence. the multiple vases of half dead get well soon flowers litter the apartment. the room is very clean, like luke has been trying to figure out ways to busy himself since jacks absence. i look over at luke, who's looking down at the floor.

"i'm sure he misses you too, luke..." i whisper, my eyes watering at the sight of my sweet boy, who's normally so happy and excited, so lonely and upset.

there's silence from him, only the shaking of his shoulders. sniffles leave him and a single tear that falls from his cheek hits the floor, then another, and another. i pull him into my arms quickly, feeling his body shake. tears leave not only his eyes, but mine too. his hat hits the floor as he places his face into my hair.

after what seems like hours of tears, i can tell luke is starting to calm down a bit. it's like he's been holding in his emotions, trying to hide them. i lead him back to his room, my luggage sat at the entrance of the apartment. we don't even bother to change, immediately getting into his bed. the sheets are still a little warm.

he grabs me, pulling me as close to him as possible. his hands grip the soft fabric of my hoodie, his face tucked into my neck. i play with his curls softly, a hum leaving his lips. i can tell he's tired, the tension in his body slowly slipping away. "i love you, luke..." i whisper softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head.

with the distance between us now closed, there's a strange sense of almost comfort, a feeling that the both of us have each other with no worries. we both sleep soundly in each others arms, content with just being in each others presence.

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promise-of-soup · 1 month ago

Note

If you’re comfortable ofc could we hear your hc’s of what the ghouls may be hiding in their pants? 🫣

(You can do the whole cast or just a few of ur favs, it’s up to you. Luv ur writing btw!!)

Ok, this has been in my inbox for a while, and I do want to respond to it because 1. thanks for the ask, 2. my brain has misunderstood this SO BADLY I JUST HAVE TO DO IT I AM SORRY ANON!! I wanna say this: I am comfortable writing stuff like this but I lost my Penis Specialist Certification after "the incident" (I am really bad at thinking about penis stats because like, if I like the penis haver I like the penis) so I would recommend asking a true specialist rather than a feeble Certificate-less freak such as me, HOWEVER:

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀"Is that a gun in your pocket or are you REALLY excited to see me?" What is your favourite Ghoul hiding in their pants?˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

✿Synopsis: men. they have... pants? what is in these... pants?

✿aka: Find out what your favourite ghoul is hiding in their pants for the low low price of 0 doler

✿Tags? THIS IS NOT SMUT OR NSFW, this is PG13 because I say the word "frick" at some point, mentions of PANTS AND WHAT IS WITHIN THEM

✿Notes: my sense of humour is fucked up I am sorry anon, thank you for requesting, and please enjoy this :)

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

Jin: NOTHING. literally, this man has nothing in his pants. His pockets are slung out most of the time and are empty! his wallet is somewhere else but I am not telling you where.

Tohma: he has a neatly folded yellow sticky note with a reminder or an email address or something random, a half smoked cigarette, a bottle of medication, and a loose glasses cloth that is somehow still clean.

Lucas: the gateway to a pocket dimension of infinite shortbread biscuits. Not really. BUT HOW DOES HE KEEP PULLING SO MANY OF THEM OUT?, he also has a cloth napkin, and a little british fork for some reason, he also has several receipts but they are all neatly folded and organised. he also wears funny boxers, but that's a conversation for another day.

Kaito: a mass of things that have melted and glued together. it's just a clump of something. mysterious clump. he takes it out to look at it and puts it back in because there's no trashcan nearby so what can a guy do? it whispers at him and beckons him "feed me father~" whenever he has new trash and can't find a trashcan, because that thing has been there. it has seen things. Oh, and how could I forget that he has a gacha capsule with a little figurine of a cat in it.

Alan: an embroidered handkerchief, a wrench, a crumpled half-torn note that says "REMEBR" but not what to remember or when or huh?, and a box of mints. He's neat though, it's nice in his pocket, 10/10 would recommend.

Leo: Vape... another vape... another vape... something that looks like a vape (but is a bullet vibrator), another vape, another vape, portable makeup mirror, hair comb, mini body spray, packet of gum, another vape, kpop-style photocard OF HIMSELF, portable selfie stick, powerbank phone charger.

Sho: small notepad with an attachable pen with grocery lists inside of it, keys.

Haru: mysetrious pieces of animal feed, a bunch of random paper clips and bits of paper, the wrapper to a candy bar, a used scratch card, a fuck ton of keys on a key holder, people's phone numbers, a printed out picture of Ren and Towa that he took without their premission, extra gloves, keychain of a horse, some loose change.

Towa: blades of grass, dried flowers, squashed fresh flowers, random bits of paper, a part of a textbook he tore out (like, just the edge of it), piece of bread, strawberry, the colour pink (idk how he got the colour pink)

Ren: portable phone charger, loose potato chip, video game keychain, headphones that are tangled, headphones that are not tangled but tangled with the tangled headphones that are tangled, small framed picture of Haru that Haru gave him and keeps putting back into his pants whenver he takes it out.

Taiga: an actual gun, a bottle of lube... I will not eleborate.

Romeo: a 1,154,820 yen designer wallet that is really only big enough to hold a single credit card, but it is there... condom, a spa leaflet, a bundle of money (to throw at people if he needs to), random casino chip that fell in, confession note he received from a general student and never opened, a really cool lighter.

Ritsu: he does not have pocket organisers but it sure looks like it, he might as well have a filing cabinet in there, because how tf does he have a neatly folded pile of recipets, a wallet organised alphabetically (all "C" for card), voice recorder, and a clear handkerchief that is always clean no matter how many times he's seen using it. One thing he doesn't have in his pockets? corruption. His pants are a place of justice.

Subaru: you'd think he has things in his pants, but he does not have things in his pants, don't ask him what is in his pants because there's nothing there, how did you even notice that there might be something in his pants, he is NOT carrying anything there... fine, it's a scrunched piece of paper... are you disappointed in him?

Haku: A cool gemstone, a condom, a piece of wood (idk why), dirt(?), the pile of paper, he does not empty his pockets, so after washing them and whatnot, the pile of paper is actually just weird little pieces of paper that are impossible to remove.

Zenji: air.

Edward: there is... an alluring sense of.... BONE? SINGULAR BONE. And wittle pwinted pictures of kittens :)

Rui: extra pair of gloves, a PILE of people's phone numbers on slips of paper, a notepad and a pencil.

Lyca: chewed up pieces of paper, a pencil he took from someone in a lecture once and never returned, a cool rock he found on the ground, feather he found on the ground, plastic fork that has been bent, and a piece of cardboard he accidently tore off a food box and stashed in his pocket to make sure no one sees it.

Yuri: two small glass viles that clink together when he walks, a note he scribbled with his awful medical handwriting about something random, one yen bill, Jiro medication (medication for Jiro)

Jiro: stray Yuri hairs he bunched into his pocket because he didn't know where to put them, a neatly folded receipt, a note telling him to buy more tea, a note on what flowers to get for Yuri, a multi-tool, extra rubber gloves, a dirty mask that he folded, glasses cloth, random piece of metal.

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writerofautumnnights · 3 months ago

Text

𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗧 𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 — 𝐉𝐎𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈��𝐇𝐀𝐌

✧༚ ˎˊ ˗ pairing: jobe bellingham x fem!oc

✧༚ ˎˊ ˗ sumary: chance encounter. A lost tourist in Sunderland. A footballer’s unexpected kindness leads to shared laughs and a subtle connection. But the language barrier and a professional commitment keep things from going further—at least for now.

✧༚ ˎˊ ˗ warnings: english is not my first language, so please excuse any mistakes!

keara’s imessage: wow, it's been a few days since I posted the masterlist for The Unspoken Connection, and I'm finally dropping the first chapter! Sorry for the wait, but I hope you all enjoy this little sneak peek into Sarah and Jobe’s world! 💕 Taglist is below, so let me know if you want in! I’d love to hear your thoughts! 😘

masterlist

Sarah adjusted her coat and stepped out of the building where she was staying, her headphones playing a song that made her feel a little safer in the middle of all this. The day was freezing, and the wind stung her cheeks, but she was excited. The idea of exploring cities in the UK with her language school friends seemed like a great way to make the most of her exchange experience.

But, as always, things didn’t go as planned. On the subway, she tried to follow the instructions on a sign, but the station names and directions moved too fast for her to properly understand. The first time she asked someone for help, the response came so quickly that she had to force a smile and nod in thanks—without actually understanding a single word.

This is fine. You’re doing great, Sarah. You’ll learn.

She tried to convince herself while clutching a makeshift map scribbled on the back of a paper with an address on it. But the insecurity was always there, hidden in the words she still didn’t fully grasp.

Still, when she finally reached the right station, anxiety mixed with excitement. Her friends had invited her to explore a city near Manchester, and she was determined to have fun. Even if it meant traveling a few hours away, discovering new places had been magical—except for the moments when she fell into the language trap, facing how fast people spoke in their daily lives.

And now, alone in unfamiliar streets, with no phone battery and no real physical map to guide her, her words of encouragement felt emptier than ever.

"Great, Sarah. Rule number one of studying abroad: always have a portable charger. Rule number two: learn how to follow directions properly before getting lost in another country."

She let out a frustrated sigh and looked around, searching for any visual clues that might help her remember the way to the bar/club where her friends were waiting. The cold wind made her eyes water, but it wasn’t just the weather making her uncomfortable. She should have arrived at least fifteen minutes ago, but with no GPS or easy way to contact them, all she could do was keep walking and try to recognize a familiar landmark.

That was when, while trying to decipher a street sign in English, she bumped into someone. A sudden impact, followed by a muffled sound as her bag nearly slipped from her shoulder.

"Oh, sorry!" she hurried to say, her accent immediately giving away that she wasn’t from around here.

"It’s alright," a male voice replied, light and relaxed.

Sarah quickly looked up, expecting to see some random stranger, probably just as lost as she was in this maze of streets.

But what she saw nearly knocked the breath out of her.

Jobe Bellingham.

He was right there. In front of her.

For a moment, the world seemed to slow down, like everything around her had suddenly faded into the background, leaving only that familiar face in front of her. Sarah felt her heart skip a beat, a strange sense of déjà vu washing over her. He looked even more real than in the photos—his confident smile, his piercing gaze.

Like she had somehow ended up inside one of the fanfics she’d read weeks ago. But instead of being the author imagining everything, she was actually living it.

"I can’t believe I’m living a fanfic in reverse," she thought, irony hitting her like a slap. The kind of absurd thought that normally would’ve made her laugh, but she couldn’t. Her throat felt too tight to say anything.

She stared at him, trying to mask her shock, but her brain was short-circuiting, struggling to process reality while his voice still echoed in her mind.

His dark, curious eyes were fixed on her, and for a second, the confusion was mutual. He clearly had no idea who she was, but Sarah knew exactly who he was. Or at least, who he was in the football world.

Jobe was wearing a brown suede jacket, left open just enough to reveal the white T-shirt underneath. The sleeves were slightly rolled up, giving him a casual but put-together look. Black track pants with blue stripes added a relaxed touch, contrasting with the more polished upper half. It was the kind of outfit that showed he cared about how he looked—but effortlessly. A perfect balance of style and comfort. His hair, slightly messy, still managed to look perfectly in place, adding to that laid-back charm. The streetlights cast a soft glow on his skin, highlighting his sharp features.

Sarah quickly looked away, embarrassment flooding her body, desperate to focus on anything other than the growing chaos in her mind.

No, breathe, Sarah. Calm down. He’s just a football player. Just… the younger brother of the famous one. No big deal.

Fuck.

But he’s hot. And tall.

"It’s really alright," he repeated, stepping slightly to the side as if to give her more space. His tone was casual, easygoing, but Sarah felt something else beneath it—something unspoken, an unexpected kind of pull. He didn’t feel like a famous football player or someone untouchable. Somehow, he felt… approachable. And that made the whole situation even weirder.

She shifted uncomfortably, taking a few steps back. The words were stuck on her tongue.

How was she supposed to react? Should she mention the fact that she’d read fanfics about him? That would be ridiculous, right?

She struggled to mask the rising panic, praying she didn’t come off as some crazy fan.

Jobe frowned slightly, his curiosity evident. Noticing her hesitation, he gave her a small, amused smile.

"You alright?"

Sarah forced herself to look at him. So calm, so... normal. As if he wasn’t the biggest football star she’d ever seen in real life. She tried to steady her voice, figuring out how to act.

"Oh, yeah! Of course!" She spoke too fast, trying to sound confident, but the weight of her accent made it clear—English wasn’t her first language.

I’m here, he’s here, and no one’s going to believe me if I ever tell this story.

He looked at her with a mix of confusion and curiosity, not immediately realizing who she was or why there was tension in the air.

"You alright?" he asked. "You look a bit... uh, all over the shop. Need a hand? ‘Cause I can sort you out."

The speed of his words made her brain freeze for a second. Sarah understood English, but different accents were still a challenge—especially when someone spoke fast and full of slang.

She hesitated, her mind scrambling for a response. Say something! Say anything!

"My phone… died. And I… kinda have no idea where I am," she admitted, gesturing with her hands, as if that would help explain.

Jobe raised an eyebrow, his eyes shining with something that could’ve been sympathy or just pure amusement.

"So… you’re lost."

"Not lost!" Sarah quickly corrected, motioning to the street around them. "Just... temporarily... misplaced," she added, forcing a nervous laugh.

He glanced around, like he was trying to get a read on the situation. The wind made her hair move, and she quickly fixed it, but she didn’t dare do anything else except wait.

"Right," he teased. "Where are you trying to go?"

Sarah frowned, trying to piece together the right sentence. I can’t say I was trying to get to a bar with my friends and now, somehow, I’m standing here talking to Jobe Bellingham...

She shook her head quickly, pushing the thought aside. Not the time for this.

"I… need to find… some friends," she tried, still mixing up her words. "But… not knowing the way."

Jobe raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by her effort.

"No problem," he said. "Tell me where it is, maybe I can help."

Sarah hesitated. The last thing she wanted was to come off like some desperate fan using this as an excuse to spend more time with him. But the truth was—she really did need help.

She sighed and, before handing him the note, mumbled, "This is weird."

Jobe frowned, amused. "What is?"

"Oh, no, not you!" Sarah rushed to clarify, gesturing nervously. "I mean, the situation! Me, lost, and then… you. Not that you're weird, I just—"

Jobe let out a laugh, crossing his arms. "Honestly, this just keeps getting better."

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide a shy smile before reaching into her coat pocket and pulling out a crumpled piece of paper where she had written the address before leaving.

Jobe took the paper and glanced at it quickly, smiling when he saw what she had written.

"Oh, it's not far from here. I can take you there if you want."

Sarah’s eyes widened. She didn’t want to seem like an inconvenience, but considering that her only other option was asking random strangers and hoping to understand their directions…

"Are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to…"

"Yeah, I know. But I want to."

Jobe didn’t even have to think much before saying that. It was instinctive, almost unconscious—a simple desire to extend the conversation, to enjoy her company a little longer.

He observed her for a moment, in a way that didn’t reveal too much but still allowed him to take in every detail. She looked beautiful. Actually, she looked absolutely stunning. The black outfit created a striking contrast against her golden skin under the streetlights, and the leather skirt paired with high-heeled boots gave her an effortless confidence. The gold jewelry reflected tiny sparkles whenever she moved, drawing attention to her gestures, to the way her hands followed her words.

But it wasn’t just that. The way Sarah furrowed her brows while trying to find the right words, how she gestured a little more than necessary to make up for the lack of fluency—everything about her had a natural charm that intrigued him. Jobe realised he liked that. He liked the soft accent that slipped into her English, the honesty in her eyes when she tried to explain herself and got lost in the middle of it.

He just wasn’t the type to show that kind of thing. Never had been. And if Sarah paid attention, she’d figure that out soon enough.

"Oh, I don’t want to be a bother! I just—"

"I already told you, no worries," he interrupted with a shrug, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Jobe." He extended his hand to greet her.

"Sarah."

"So, Sarah…" His British accent saying her name made her feel like a teenager, but she played it cool. "Consider this my good deed for the day."

She laughed, relaxing a little.

"Alright, Mr. Good Deeds… I think that’s how you say it." Jobe chuckled, making her smile. "Lead the way."

He nodded, already starting to walk and motioning for her to follow. As they walked side by side along the cobbled streets, Sarah tried to focus on the conversation, but her mind was racing. What was she even doing? She was walking next to Jobe Bellingham. The Bellingham younger brother. If she told anyone, no one would believe her.

She tried not to look stupid or nervous, but the effect he had on her was undeniable.

The conversation flowed naturally—at least until Sarah stumbled over an expression he used and had to ask him to repeat it.

"Wait, what does proper dodgy mean?"

Jobe blinked, surprised, before laughing. "Means suspicious. Like, well sketchy."

"Oh, I see. Sketchy," she repeated, mentally memorising it.

"Wait, you don’t know English slang?"

"I’m learning," she admitted, a little embarrassed. "It’s harder when I need information and end up talking to someone young."

Jobe observed Sarah’s behaviour as they walked, dividing his attention between the road ahead and the woman beside him. Her glasses kept shifting from one hand to the other, a clear sign of her nerves. But Sarah did everything she could to hide it.

"I reckon I’ll have to teach you then."

"Much appreciated."

Sarah caught herself smiling at him. She was starting to relax, but a part of her was still on high alert. The cobbled streets were narrow and charming, but she was so focused on not tripping that she could barely appreciate the scenery.

"You’ve got a funny accent," he remarked, a mischievous smile highlighting his dimple.

SHIT.

Sarah looked at him, trying not to get flustered.

"I know, it’s… I’m trying to improve. If I had my phone, it’d be easier—I can use the translator."

"Nah. Don’t worry, I get you. And it’s cute!" He glanced at her with a grin, noticing how carefully she stepped to avoid getting her heels caught in the pavement. "Just don’t ask me to talk like you, yeah? That’d be, like… impossible."

She laughed, relieved that he wasn’t making fun of her struggles. But then he dropped another phrase she didn’t understand.

"That’s kinda like ‘dodgy’, right?" Sarah asked, frowning slightly.

"Exactly! Look at you, picking things up quick."

Sarah smiled, feeling a bit more confident, but then she stumbled over her words, struggling to keep up with his accent.

"I just… I need to get better. And you—you all…" she quickly corrected herself, "make me nervous sometimes. Everything sounds different to me."

Jobe noticed her frustration as she crossed her arms against herself, and without making a big deal of it, he shifted his coat closer to her when the cold wind cut through the air.

"If you want, you can take my coat," he offered with a gentle smile.

She hesitated for a moment, brushing her fingers over the fabric.

"Thanks, but I’m fine."

"So, you’d rather not look like a penguin, then," he teased, making her laugh.

As they walked side by side, Sarah found herself reflecting on the moment. Jobe was being so… approachable. She never imagined a famous footballer like him would be this easygoing, this… normal. He didn’t seem anything like the celebrities she saw on social media. He was just helping someone who was lost, like anyone else would.

But it confused her. What was he even doing here? Walking with her, so far removed from the world of flashing cameras and headlines? Was he just being polite, or was there something more? Was she reading too much into this?

She pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the walk, but the insecurity lingered. She was lost in Sunderland, struggling to understand Jobe’s English, frustrated with herself for not being fluent yet. It felt like all the challenges of her exchange trip were piling up, and now this—this strange interaction with someone she knew was famous. It was almost too much.

"Tell me more about yourself," Jobe asked, pulling her back into the conversation. "Where are you from?"

She hesitated. "I’m from Brazil."

"Oh, sick!" He smiled, as if that was an unexpectedly interesting fact. "And are you liking England so far?"

"Yeah, but it’s complicated," Sarah replied, laughing a little. "But I’m learning. Sometimes I get frustrated with English… some days it’s really hard to understand everything."

Jobe seemed to pick up on her struggle and quickly cracked a joke to lighten the mood. "Well, you’re doing better than me. I wouldn’t understand a bloody thing if I tried speaking Portuguese."

"Oh, you don’t know what you’re missing," she teased, a bit of pride in her tone.

"Your mates really chose Sunderland of all places to visit?" Jobe couldn’t hide his curiosity. He could if he wanted to, but Sarah was exactly his type. She caught his eye. The way her outfit hugged her curves made it impossible not to notice. It was like one of the girls from his Instagram had just stepped into real life, right in front of him.

She was definitely his type.

Sarah adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, hesitating for a second before answering. “In Manchester, actually. But I came here with some friends. We wanted to explore a bit.”

He raised his eyebrows, intrigued. “So you left Manchester to come to Sunderland?”

She laughed. “Yeah, sounds kind of random, right?”

“A little,” he admitted, crossing his arms. “Not that I’m complaining, but people usually pick Newcastle or a bigger city. Sunderland isn’t usually at the top of the list.”

Sarah shrugged, amused. “We wanted to watch a football match outside of London, and someone suggested here because of a Netflix series. And well… now we’re here, and I still got lost.”

Jobe chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, I’m glad you were lucky enough to bump into me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Lucky? You almost ran me over.”

He placed a hand on his chest, feigning indignation. “Now I’m the villain of the story?”

“I don’t know,” Sarah replied, pretending to think. “You like running, right? Maybe you thought you were on the field.”

Jobe smiled, tilting his head slightly, as if assessing her response. “Funny one, aren’t you?”

Sarah just gave a small smile, trying to ignore the way he was looking at her, as if he was genuinely enjoying their conversation.

“But anyway,” he continued, “how long are you staying in Sunderland?”

“Just until Monday. Then I go back to Manchester.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, nodding slowly. “So you don’t have much time to get lost again.”

Sarah laughed. “Yeah, that’s why I need to find my friends soon.”

The conversation remained light until, turning a corner, Sarah tripped on a loose stone. Jobe immediately grabbed her arm, preventing her from falling.

“Whoa! Are you okay?” he asked, a concerned smile on his face, still holding her arm for a moment.

Sarah wanted to hide inside herself. If it were possible, a blush would have spread across her cheeks, but she tried not to show any nervousness. “Yes, all good. I just… seem to be uncoordinated.”

He laughed softly. “No big deal. But hey, if you need more English lessons or balance lessons, you know where to find me.”

Sarah looked at him, her heart beating a little faster, but feeling more at ease. He was being much kinder and more fun than she expected from someone like him.

“I thought it was closer,” Sarah admitted after feeling slight discomfort in her feet, but quickly backtracked. “I liked your company, okay? It’s just… my boots, t-they’re not great.”

Jobe laughed at Sarah’s nervousness, making her bite her lip.

“It’s all good!”

When they reached the corner where the bar/club was, Sarah saw her friends through the window, waving excitedly.

“Looks like your friends actually found a place!” Jobe commented, stopping beside her.

Sarah didn’t want to go. She had enjoyed talking to someone who had the patience for her language slips.

“But you still haven’t told me… How did you end up in Sunderland?”

He laughed, as if it was an interesting question. “Well, you know, football. The team brought me here. But I thought that since I’m in the UK, it wouldn’t be too hard. How long are you staying in Manchester?”

Sarah thought for a moment, trying to choose the right answer. She knew he was trying to learn more about her without being invasive, but it felt strange to talk to someone so far from her reality yet so close at the same time. “I’ll be here for a few months. I’m taking the opportunity to improve my English and… figure myself out a little.”

Jobe looked at her with a spark in his eyes, more curious than she expected. “And what exactly brought you to England?”

She hesitated, unsure if she wanted to explain about the exchange program. She didn’t want him to see her as someone lost, but she wasn’t lying.

“It’s a bit complicated, but I wanted to see more of the world… and improve my English.”

“I get it. Manchester isn’t exactly London, but it’s a good place to focus, and there’s plenty to do.” Jobe paused, and for a second, it seemed like he wanted to ask more, but he decided to change the subject. “So you’ll be there for a while.”

“Yes, I think it’ll be a good experience.”

As they neared the club, Sarah looked at him. It was strange. She had just met Jobe, but their conversation flowed so naturally that it felt like she had known him for much longer. She wanted to enjoy the moment, but at the same time, she didn’t know what to do with this whirlwind of feelings.

“Well, here we are,” she said, trying to hide her nervousness. “I… I’ll go in and see if my friends are here.”

Jobe looked at her, still with that charming smile. “I’ll wait here. No need to worry, I’m fine.”

But Sarah had a sudden idea. She hesitated before speaking. “You… don’t want to come in and enjoy a bit? If it’s not a bother, of course.”

Jobe looked at her with a curious expression, the smile still on his lips. “Are you inviting me to go into the club with you?”

“Hmm, yeah… If you want to,” she replied, feeling a bit nervous but eager to seize the moment.

Sarah couldn’t understand why she was so nervous. Okay. The language wasn’t her strong suit, so her mind kept jumping between translating or forming sentences with the correct verb tenses, but this felt different.

She felt like a teenager. And Jobe loved seeing how he could affect her.

“I’d love to,” he said, with a tone that made Sarah feel more comfortable, but then he shook his head with a half-guilty smile. “But I’ve got practice early tomorrow. If I go in now, I won’t leave for a while, and my coach would probably kill me.”

Sarah nodded, trying to hide the irrational sting of disappointment she felt. Of course, he couldn’t stay. He was a professional athlete, had a disciplined career. Unlike her, still figuring out what to do with her life.

“Oh, of course,” she said quickly. “That makes sense. Discipline and all.”

Jobe tilted his head, watching her as if he were trying to figure her out. “You seem disappointed,” he commented, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Sarah laughed, crossing her arms. “Maybe just a little. But only because I wanted to see if you’d get lost trying to understand the conversations inside here.”

He let out a low laugh. “Hey, I’m English, remember? I have the advantage here.”

“Doesn’t mean anything. Depending on the accent and speed, I don’t understand Americans sometimes.”

Jobe smiled and shook his head, as if he was enjoying the conversation more than he should. Then, before the silence between them got awkward, he shoved his hands in his coat pockets and asked, “But tell me, where are you staying?”

“I don’t know,” Sarah answered without thinking too much. “I mean, I don’t know the hotel’s address. But it’s near the station. Maybe I’ll learn the name if I don’t go crazy trying to understand everything.”

He laughed. “I think you’ll be fine. But, just in case… you should give me your number. If you get lost again and need a translator.”

Sarah blinked, surprised.

Wait.

He was... asking for her number?

No, it must just be out of kindness. Or he says that to everyone. Or maybe he was just making sure she wouldn’t have to stop any more strangers on the street.

But why did she feel that flutter in her stomach?

She opened her mouth to respond, but hesitated. The truth was...

“I don’t know my number,” she confessed, laughing nervously. “I mean, it’s a new SIM card, and I haven’t memorized it yet.”

Jobe raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Okay, then just text me and we’re good.”

“My phone’s dead, remember?”

He let out a short laugh. “That’s true. So you’re completely unreachable?”

Sarah made a face. “Basically.”

“Rough, huh?” Jobe joked, shaking his head but not seeming bothered. “Do you at least have Instagram?”

“I do,” she answered, and before she could hesitate, grabbed his phone when he handed it over and typed in her username.

When she handed it back, Jobe looked at the screen and gave her a sideways smile. “Nice. Now you have no excuse if you get lost again.”

She laughed, but inside she doubted he would actually remember to follow her later. He probably knew thousands of people all the time. It was just a polite gesture.

“Alright, I’ll head off,” he said, taking a step back. “It was fun saving your night.”

Sarah rolled her eyes with a smile. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, winking at her. “But let me know if you need more English lessons.”

And with that, he turned and started walking away, while Sarah was still trying to process everything.

She walked into the bar, feeling a mix of excitement and disbelief. Why was she reacting like this? Just because Jobe Bellingham had been nice to her?

She mentally scolded herself. He was younger. And a famous athlete. What the hell was she thinking?

dividers by @cafekitsune

pictures from pinterest and ig

faceclaim: @/amaka.ae on ig!

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saturnsag3 · 28 days ago

Text

Like No Other - will smith x macklin celebrini

summary: jealous macklin 🤭

wc: 2,271

The sun was beginning its slow descent, casting a honeyed glow over the waves as they lapped gently against the shoreline. A breeze tugged playfully at umbrellas and tossed the scent of salt and sunscreen through the air. Most people had started packing up for the evening, but Will and Macklin still lay sprawled on their shared towel, stretched out in the middle of their tiny oasis of snacks, bags, and half-melted sunscreen.

Macklin had headed back to the car ten minutes ago—grumbling as he went—because Will had forgotten his portable charger. Again.

“You’re literally attached to your phone at all times,” Mack had said with a shake of his head, bare feet kicking sand up with every step as he trekked back toward the lot. “And you bring it down here with 20% battery. Incredible.”

Will had just grinned lazily from his spot on the towel, not bothering to argue. He’d adjusted his sunglasses and tilted his head back, basking like a cat in the sun.

Which is exactly what he was doing when she approached.

He noticed her out of the corner of his eye—tall, tan, long blonde hair swept into a braid that looked perfectly effortless. She had the kind of confidence that wasn’t shy about walking up to a stranger, and Will knew trouble when he saw it.

“Hey,” she said brightly, already bending slightly to shield her eyes from the sun, her voice loud over the sound of the ocean. “Sorry to bother, but are you from around here?”

Will sat up, instantly wary but polite. “Sort of. Um— my boyfriend is. Why?”

She laughed—high, soft, intentional. “Oh, I was just gonna ask where the boardwalk is, but—boyfriend, huh?” Her eyes swept him in a way that felt less curious and more calculated. “That’s surprising.”

Will raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

She smiled, all teeth. “You just don’t seem the type.”

“What type is that?” Will asked, not smiling back.

“You know,” she said vaguely, “not that it matters. I’m Lila.”

Will nodded once. “Will.”

“You have Instagram, Will?”

He blinked. Straight to Instagram?

Before he could respond, a familiar voice cut through the breeze like a knife through butter.

“Hey,” Macklin called, sauntering down the sand with the charger in one hand and a plastic cup of iced tea in the other. His sunglasses were pushed up on his head, eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the scene in front of him. “Found your charger.”

Will sat up straighter immediately, relief practically rolling off him. “You’re my hero.”

Macklin stopped at the edge of the towel, clocking the girl—Lila—and the way she was standing a little too close. His eyes flicked to Will, who gave him the most helpless save me look he could manage behind his sunglasses.

Lila turned. “Oh. Hi. I didn’t realize—”

“That he was taken?” Macklin said smoothly, offering her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes as he handed Will the charger. “Yeah, a lot of people don’t realize. He forgets to walk around with a flashing sign.”

Will let out a quiet snort and reached up to tug Macklin down beside him on the towel. The moment Mack was seated, Will wrapped an arm around his waist and rested his chin on Macklin’s shoulder, fully leaning into the casual possessiveness he knew would do all the talking.

Lila blinked. “We were just talking.”

“Sure,” Mack said, voice light. “That’s what I do when I want directions too. Ask about Instagram.”

Will coughed into his shoulder to hide the sound of his laughter.

Lila shifted her weight. “Well. I guess I’ll go find the boardwalk, then.”

“You do that,” Mack said, reaching over to adjust Will’s curls with a gentleness that didn’t match the steel in his voice.

She turned and walked away quickly.

Will watched her go, then turned to Mack with a grin. “Baby, that was—”

“Possessive? Rude? Mean?” Mack offered, setting the charger down between them.

“I was gonna say hot, actually.”

Macklin rolled his eyes, but there was a faint pink coloring his cheeks. “She was trying to flirt with you, Will.”

“I know,” Will said, and then leaned in to kiss Mack’s jaw, slow and deliberate. “And I told her I had a boyfriend.”

“You hesitated,” Macklin teased.

Will gasped. “I did not! And you weren’t even close enough to hear.”

“You did a little,” Mack said smugly, letting Will wrap both arms around his middle.

“I was trying to remember if I had a boyfriend or a husband,” Will murmured. “We’re married already in my head.”

Mack couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him as he leaned back into Will’s chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re mine,” Will said simply, nuzzling into the side of his neck. “People need to know.”

They sat like that for a while, quiet and warm and tucked into each other like puzzle pieces. Eventually, the sun dipped lower, and they packed up their things—Will’s hand never straying too far from Macklin’s waist, their fingers brushing constantly.

But the clinginess didn’t stop there.

In the parking lot, Will opened the passenger door for Macklin with an exaggerated bow. “For my brave charger-fetcher.”

“Chivalry’s not dead, I guess,” Mack said, shaking his head as he got in.

“Not when it comes to you,” Will said, voice low and sure, like it wasn’t even up for debate. When they pulled into the parking lot Will leaned across the center console and kissed Macklin’s cheek before climbing out of the car.

Macklin followed him upstairs without saying much, just trailing behind as they got to their apartment. He dropped his bag by the front door, kicked off his shoes, and threw himself onto the couch like gravity had suddenly increased by tenfold. Hoodie sleeves tugged over his hands, hood half-up, phone out but not really looking at it—every bit of him curled in on itself.

Will noticed. Of course he did.

He leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed as he watched the pout forming on Macklin’s face like an actual storm cloud. “Seriously?”

“I’m fine,” Mack muttered.

Will raised a brow. “This your new definition of ‘fine’?”

“I said I’m fine,” he repeated, barely above a grumble.

Will didn’t argue. He just grabbed two waters from the fridge and padded over, collapsing onto the couch beside Mack. He handed over a bottle without a word. Mack took it with a sigh.

They sat in silence for a minute, just the soft hum of the fridge and the occasional buzz of a notification from Macklin’s phone filling the space.

Then, finally, Mack muttered, “She was pretty.”

Will didn’t say anything. Not at first.

“And she totally wanted you.”

Still no reply.

“She kept flipping her hair and biting her lip, and, like… okay, that whole thing where she said you ‘don’t look like the type’—what was that?”

Will turned his head to look at him.

“She was looking at you like you were a damn—”

And that was as far as Macklin got.

Will reached out, grabbed the front of Mack’s hoodie, and tugged him in. No warning. No preamble. Just kissed him hard, completely cutting off whatever jealous spiral Macklin had been winding himself into.

Mack let out a muffled noise of surprise, hands fluttering up to Will’s chest before melting like butter into the kiss. Will didn’t let up—his hands cupped Macklin’s jaw, thumbs brushing under his cheekbones as he tilted his head and kissed him like it was the only language he knew. Like this was the answer to every ridiculous little doubt Mack had.

And maybe it was.

Mack tried to pull back once. “Will, I—”

Will kissed him again.

“Okay, but—”

Another kiss.

“Seriously—”

This time, Will kissed him until the rest of the sentence evaporated right off Mack’s tongue. Then he leaned in closer, lips brushing just under Mack’s jaw, warm and whisper-soft. Macklin’s breath hitched.

Will only said, low against his neck, “No one else gets this. No one else will ever have this.”

Macklin’s fingers curled in the fabric of Will’s T-shirt, still clutching like he needed the reminder to stay grounded. “You could’ve just said that.”

Will smirked, kissing the side of his face now. “Nah. I prefer shutting you up like that.”

Mack gave a begrudging, almost-laughing huff and let Will pull him fully into his lap. Will’s arms wrapped around him like a cage and a comfort all at once, one hand rubbing up and down Mack’s spine as his mouth continued its slow, sweet campaign against every trace of lingering insecurity.

“You’re such an asshole,” Macklin mumbled against Will’s shoulder, but he wasn’t going anywhere. “A stupidly charming, stupidly hot, stupid asshole.”

“Uh huh,” Will murmured, smiling into his neck. “Say it again. I like it when you pout.”

Mack smacked his shoulder lightly but didn’t move an inch. Instead, he tucked his face under Will’s chin, breathing him in.

Will rubbed slow circles into the small of his back. “Feel better?”

“…Maybe.”

Will kissed his hair. “Good. Stay here and let me love you ‘til you forget why you were jealous of someone who couldn’t hold a candle to you.”

Macklin didn’t argue with that. Didn’t even try.

sages thoughts⋆˙⟡: i’m also posting a jealous will fic in a second so yay! hope u guys enjoyed <3

#willmack #hrpf #macklin celebrini #will smith hockey #san jose sharks #mlm

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woso-dreamzzz · 1 year ago

Text

Firsts IV

Hardersson x Preteen!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your first period

You've just come home from school when you ask about it.

It was one of the rare days you went in, an English test that you couldn't miss but Magda knew you would ace. You'd only been in for half a day and one of your friend's mothers had driven you back instead of making you take the bus.

Magda's typing away at her laptop when you come in, toeing off your shoes and moving your portable phone charger from your school bag into the training bag waiting by the door.

You dip into the kitchen to grab a snack.

"Morsa?" You call.

"Hmm, yeah?" Magda doesn't take her eye off her screen.

"Where are the sanitary pads?"

"Er..." Magda has to think for a moment. She hasn't used one in a while. "Cabinet in the downstairs bathroom, I think? Why?"

You give her an odd look as you pass on your way there. "I started my period at school today."

"Oh, okay." She nods and goes back to typing.

It's only when you disappear into the bathroom, that her brain catches up with what you've said.

"What do you mean you've started your period?! Princesse? Princesse!"

You return a few minutes later. "I started my period."

"You're twelve!"

You give her another odd look, little crinkle between your brows. "I know, Morsa. I'm old enough to have one now."

Magda looks around wildly, looking for any support she can get but Pernille's still at work and it's just her with you.

"Okay," She says, more to herself than anyone else," Okay. Right, your period." Her throat bobs. "Alright, so...Periods are when-"

"Morsa, are you trying to give me the talk?"

"Listen," Magda says," I know this is going to be awkward but stay with me here. We're going to work through this together. Periods are when-"

"Morsa...I've already been given the talk."

Magda's world comes crashing down. "What do you mean you've already been given the talk?!"

"We went over it in biology," You say with a shrug," And I've already taken some painkillers." You frown. "Am I still okay to go to practice tonight?"

Magda's not keeping up at all as her mouth hangs open and she tries to equate your age with the fact that you've started your period. It didn't make sense at all.

You still slept with your plushies. You couldn't be nearly old enough to start your period, let alone rummaging around the period products without a care in the world. Magda doesn't think she's overreacting but you're being strangely calm about this all, your only worry being about if you would still be able to go to training.

"Okay," Magda says even though none of this is even remotely okay," So...You started your period at school?"

"Yeah but some of my friends had pads that I can use so it's not a big deal."

You're being so nonchalant about this that Magda is really worrying she's ended up in some alternate universe where she's being outrageously hysterical about this whole thing.

"And you've already taken some painkillers?"

"Yes."

"And you're wondering if you're allowed to go to practice today?"

"Morsa? Are you okay? You've been acting a little weird..."

"I'm not acting weird!" Magda's voice goes embarrassingly high pitched. "This is all completely fine! Better than fine! Amazing!"

The look you're giving her is clearly one of worry and you cautiously reach the back of your hand up to measure her temperature.

"What's going on?" Pernille comes in just as you place your hand on Magda's forehead.

"Morsa's acting weird," You declare," And she's not answering my questions."

"I'll answer your questions," Pernille says as she hangs up her coat and unlaces her shoes," What do you want to know?"

"Can I still go to practice even though I've started my period?"

"You've started your period? Well done, princesse. If you still want to go to practice then go. Just make sure to snack a little bit during breaks and keep drinking. Have you taken painkillers?"

You nod.

"Take some with you, just in case. Now, what's wrong with your Morsa?"

You shrug. "I don't know. She's been acting weird ever since I got back."

"Magda? Is something wrong?"

Mutely, Magda shakes her head. Pernille's being calm too. Maybe she is blowing this out of proportion.

"Just...Work stuff is a little stressful," She lies, not wanting to admit that the idea of you having started your period is stressing her out.

Thankfully, both you and Pernille seem to take that as fact.

"Well," Pernille says, turning back to you," I'll log it in my calendar and we'll start tracking them. The first few are going to be a little bit irregular so we'll see how it goes. Once they're more consistent, we'll talk about moving you onto tampons, if you want. They're a bit easier to play with."

Magda stays rooted to the sofa. She's going to have to come to terms with you starting your periods but the idea of you using tampons is a bit too big for her to cope with at the moment.

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

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opalcicle · 4 months ago

Text

In the Woods Somewhere

Ch. 2 Rainy Morning

trans male reader x Slimecicle, one bed trope, horror themes

Waking up to the smell of a fire already going, I turn to see that Charlie's already up and out of the tent. I'm feeling cold, and a little stiff. I check my phone and remove it from the portable charger we have set up, 8 am. It's early. With a big stretch and a yawn I find my shoes near the entrance of the tent and slip out to see a cloudy sky.

Charlie's tending the fire, and looks at me with a big genuine smile, "Hey, good morning!"

"Morning," I reply, stretching again. "Fuck it's early, how long have you been up?"

"Maybe like an hour,"

"Damn dude," there's a morning grumpiness in my voice that I try my best to shake off, "you eat yet?"

"Just some snacks," he admits, "thought it might be nice to wait for everyone."

"Snacks sound good," I yawn as I finish the words, walking over to the truck to fish out a bag of chips and a bottled ice coffee before settling in a chair next to Charlie.

Thankfully he allows me to sit in silence and finish waking up. Charlie's crashed at mine enough times to know I'm not a morning person. Time moves, but the clouds don't, painting everything in a light gray. The wind blows a cool breeze, and Charlie adds a couple more logs to the fire before I'm finally ready to be a whole person and interact.

"I was really hoping to spend some time at the beach today," I say, looking at the sky.

"I mean we can, but like, it might rain," Charlie frowns at the clouds. "Maybe we should set a tarp up over the picnic table,"

I groan out a complaint at the concept of getting up to do something.

"C'mon man, it'll take like 10 minutes," he says, standing.

"Fiine," comes out of my mouth in annoyance, and I join Charlie at the truck, collecting the tarp while he collects rope. He does most of the work, I just have to stand and hold things in place while he ties knots around trees and adjusts the tarp to cover the table. In my groggy state I can't help but imagine him tying me up instead. Just as we get seated back at the fire, Charlie adding another log, Ted joins us from his tent.

"Mmm-morning," he greets through a yawn, grabbing himself a coffee before sitting down. Somehow Ted is his usually chatty self right off the bat, and keeps Charlie entertained.

I sink down into the chair and pull my hood up to keep out the cold, tuning out the other two and closing my eyes for a quick rest.

When I open my eyes again after what feels like minutes, Ted's cooking pancakes on a frying pan over the fire, Schlatt's up, bottle in hand, and the three of them are laughing.

"Oh shit," I say, sitting up.

"Eyy! There he is!" Schlatt says, sounding condescending to my waking ears, "Good morning, sleepyhead,"

"Fuck how long was I out," I grumble.

"Like 30 minutes," Charlie responds, "you looked so cozy we didn't want to wake you,"

"Thanks man," I say, stretching out my now very stiff back, "Ah, sorry Ted I was gonna make breakfast,"

"No worries dude," he responds, eyes focused on the pancake he's attempting to flip. Glancing down into the fire, it looks like he's tipped a few in already.

By the time everyone's got their pancakes I feel a heavy drop of rain hit my head. We move quickly to get our chairs and the hammock under tarps, and eat while the rain comes down faster and puts out the fire.

"Good timing," says Ted, through a mouthful of pancake, "at least we got to have breakfast,"

Schlatt makes a noise that sounds like agreement as he chews. Then he asks, "Well, what's the plan today, boys?"

"I dunno man, it wasn't supposed to rain at all this week," there's a disappointment in Charlie's voice.

"We could always drive into town, it seemed nice," Ted suggested, refering to the small down with a grocery store, a bar, and absolutely nothing else. I silently thank myself that I'd recently changed my ID marker. A small town bar does not sound like a fun place to be noticeably trans.

"Yeah, I could go for a drink," Schlatt replies, deadpan, before taking a sip of his open beer.

Ted shoots him a disapproving look.

"I guess, I was hoping to spend sometime outside," Charlie says.

"Be my guest," Ted jests, motioning towards the water falling from the sky.

"I'm down to head into town, it's like 20 minutes out, we can always come back if it clears up quick," I say after finishing my pancakes.

"Yeah, let's check it out," Charlie shrugs. My lips curl in amusement at how easily he agrees with me.

From the backseat of the vehicle I peer our into the other campsites. Expecting to see the campgrounds empty and deserted, I'm shocked when I see two kids in rain boots running through the rain. A disgruntled looking mom with an umbrella is trailing behind them. There's a man in a portable gazebo reading a book. There's a couple walking a weiner dog that tries to get in every puddle. In the seat opposite of me Charlie's people watching too.

"How'd you find this place, anyways, Ted?" Charlie pipes up. From the slight furrow of his brows I assume he's got similar suspicions as me. Maybe we shouldn't have joked about it being haunted, maybe we both scared ourselves.

"I booked it online! It had great reviews and decent prices, the beach looked good. There weren't many spaces for RVs and I think most people camp that way now." Ted brags about his find.

Charlie and I exchange a look, uncertainty in both of our eyes.

"I still can't believe you guys convinced me to come out here," Schlatt grumbles. The high maintenance man had brought a lot of luxuries, and we'd all bought him a lot of booze.

"Yeah, you love it out here," Ted says.

"Yeah, whatever," Schlatt pouts. He does love it though. We all know he loves being away from city noise and people, the fresh air, and the ability to just relax. He'd been pretending to complain about it for weeks.

It's an old town. The bar is almost saloon style and the little grocery store has yellow cracking bricks.

Schlatt, of course wants to head right to the bar. I accompany him there while the other two check out the rest of the town. They give me a sympathetic look, but Charlie knows my snacks and Ted'll make sure we get anything we need and more. I shrug when they drop us off.

It's still early enough in the day that the only other patrons are a group of elderly men sipping coffee in a corner. Schlatt stops at the bar and I find us a seat in a booth by a window. The cold wooden bench and rain on glass makes me feel like I'm in a music video for a sad country song.

"So what's up with you and Charlie?" Schlatt questions, sliding me my bottle.

"Hmm?" I'm broken from my daydream with a start.

"You know what I mean," he takes a swing, "out till after dark, the looks you give eachother, the way he dotes on you,"

I look at his smirking face and roll my eyes, "I don't think it's like that,"

"Yeah, yeah, I saw you fuckers holding hands,"

"No, I mean, I was just scared," I mumble the end of the sentence.

"What'd you say?"

"I said I was scared," I turn my face away from him, back to the window.

"Oh no, I'm so scared, I need big strong Charlie to hold my hand," he mocks.

"Dude, serious shut up, it was freaky out there," I weakly defend myself.

Just then, a bird lands in the window beside us, directly in front of my face. It's small and yellow with deep black eyes that stare straight through me.

"Awe look at the little guy," Schlatt touches his fingertips to the window pane. The bird hops over to the spot Schlatt's finger is touching, tapping from its side of the glass. "He likes me!"

Tap tap. Tap tap. We both watch the bird. Tap tap. Tap tap tap tap taptaptaptap. The feathery ball of sunshine ruffles itself up and stretching its wings before hopping farther down the sill. Another one lands where the first one did. It's the same bright yellow with black eyes. Thunk. It raps on the window hard, shaking it's head. Taptaptaptap thunk.

"Oh shit, maybe the windows not good for them," Schlatt stands to pull the curtain across the window just after a third joins the others.

"Weird little guys," I murmur, missing the grey light of the cloudy sky immediately.

"You should make a move," he returns to our prior conversation. "I bet Ted ten bucks you would first,"

"Oh my god. Drop it," I try to seem stern but the red in my cheeks is making it hard. "It's not happening,"

"Sure, sure," he says, pretending to back off. I know it's gonna come up again.

"He's only dated girls, were just friends," I mutter.

"Dude, seriously," Schlatt takes a sip, "I don't think he's straight,"

A flicker of hope wells up and dies quick. We're just friends. I repeat it in my head.

From behind me the sound of tapping grows in crescendo and I flick my head around to see the birds at the window next to us. There's maybe six now, all crowded up as close to me as they can get, pushing eachother to get closer. A chill passes over me as their eyes and beaks all point in my direction. Taptaptaptap, another lands, knocking one of its kin away from the sill. TAPTAPTAPTAP, then another, and another, and - SLAM! The sound of the bartender hitting a broom against the glass rings through my ears. I jump, making it most of the way out of my skin when she turns to me.

She's older, maybe mid-40s, with a look about her like she's been tending this place for years. She's comfortable, or maybe just oblivious; enough so to slam a broom against a glass behind someone's head. With a sour tone she says aloud, "Little fuckers!" When she catches the obvious fear on my face she sweetens herself, "Sorry love, gotta scare 'em off before they bring a whole flock 'round." With a sympathetic smile she returns to the bar.

As I turn back to Schlatt I catch the eyes of one of the men here for coffee. The whole group of them is looking my way. When they see I've noticed they all turn back to their table. Schlatt, on the other hand, is staring at me with a shit-eating grin.

"Scared of some birds?" he quips.

"Of a woman wielding a big stick near my head!" I defend myself.

"Thought you'd like a big stick near your head." he takes a sip, "or is it just Charlie's?"

"Oh my god!" groan in exasperation, kicking at his ankle under the table.

"Watch it!" He doesn't drop the smile.

"I know where you're sleeping," I threaten, pressing fingers into my temples.

By the time the other two meet us we're both three beers in and I'm about ready to strangle Schlatt.

"Hey!" Ted calls excitedly when he sees us. "You should have seen the store- it's got all these old timey display cases-" he slides in beside Schlatt to show him pictures.

Schlatt takes a glance at the screen, but not before giving me a side-eye as Charlie takes the spot next to me. "Yeah man, that's cool,"

While Ted goes through the pictures with Schlatt, Charlie raises an eyebrow at the empty bottles next to us. I silently convey my exasperation through a look that lets him know I'm maybe 10 minutes out from strangling our friend.

"They got anything to eat by here?" Ted's head turns towards the bar. The bartender is leaned on the back counter, going through her phone. "Should we stay for lunch?"

Shifting beside me, Charlie speaks up, "It look's like the sun was breaking, I don't wanna miss beach time." He tries to hide the slight whine in his voice but it's peaks through on the wanna.

An involuntary giggle leaves my lips and I cut it off with a hand slapped over my mouth. The look Ted and Schlatt exchange in response makes me physically cringe.

"Yeah, fine, let's go back," Schlatt agrees in his huffy half-annoyed tone.

While Schlatt pays for his drinks and I wait for my turn with what seems like an old and unreliable machine, I overhear the old men.

"Don't forget to lock your cows up this year, Bill," one of them says with a laugh.

"I fuckin' locked 'em up, the damn things knocked right through the old wall," another, presumably Bill, grumbles.

"Stupid things scared the shit out of us!" a third one joins the laughter.

"Trampled themselves too," Bill rubs a tremble, "no fuckin' cows getting out this year,"

Their conversation drifted on to new topics, but my mind hovered over the words this year. Trepidation makes space for itself in my gut as I mull over what I heard.

I'm brought back to the present by Schlatt's hand patting my shoulder, "Your turn, man,"

"Oh uh, yeah," I step up to the debit machine and absentmindedly make the payment.

We join the guys at Ted's truck and take off back to the campgrounds. The drive back is filled with music and singing and the weirdness at the bar fades out behind us.

After a lazy few hours the sun eventually catches up with the day, and it's not long before it's warm enough to warrant a trip down to the beach. I've managed to put back a few more drinks with Schlatt and a game of cards when Charlie comes bursting out of our tent with board shorts on.

"Beach?" He announces the question.

When my eyes find him I can't seem to peel them away. Fuck, is all I can think to myself until I get kicked under the picnic table.

"Ouch, what the fuck?" I swing my legs out to rub the shin Schlatt just booted.

"Yeah man, gimme like ten minutes," Ted answers from the hammock.

"I need a nap," Schlatt stretches, getting up to take Ted's spot.

"I'll get ready," I shoot daggers at Schlatt. His eyes are closed as he settles but his big goofy grin lets me know he heard the spite in my voice.

In the tent I dig through my bag for swimwear. I hold the shirt I usually wear at the pool in my hands, kneeled on the mattress, deciding. No one knows me here, could I just go without? Scars showing. I absently trace a finger over one of the surgery scars on my chest, then touch the little bit of stubble on my face.

Just outside the tent, Charlie grabs the zipper, "Hope your dick's away, I'm coming in!"

"Yeah, man," I respond, hearing the anxiety in my own voice.

He clocks it immediately, climbing in beside me and zipping us in, "Hey, what's up?"

"I-" don't know how to respond. I clutch the shirt in my hands and just hold it up.

I see his eyes look at the piece of clothing, the one he'd seen me in when we swim laps. It takes him a moment to understand but I see it click in his eyes when he does.

"Oh, uh, okay," he settles himself down next to me. He places a hand on my back in a way that I know is supposed the be comforting, but his touch on my bare skin makes it prickle.

I fight the moan trying to escape my throat and it thankfully comes out as a cough. Fuck, am I hard? Charlie rubs my shoulder and for a second I think I'm going to fall over.

"You don't have to wear it," he says softly.

"I know," is the only reply I can give.

"Here, let me see," Charlie moves to sit across from me and gently tugs the shirt away. My hands drop and my face goes red as his eyes fall over my chest. We're so close, and when he looks back up at my face and sees the blush he turns away fast. "You, uh, you look good man. I mean like, like a dude, no one's gonna say anything."

"Thanks!" I blurt out, sitting there stunned.

Charlie digs turns away to dig through his own bag. Awkward tension hangs between us. "Sorry dude I didn't mean to, like I wasn't trying to-"

"It's fine," I cut him off, turning to pretend to be busy with my own bag.

When he finds whatever he came in her for he leans forward to unzip the tent before leaning back, "Are you alright though?" the softness in his voice has returned.

"Yeah, yeah I'm good." I nod, tucking my shirt away, "I'm gonna go without,"

"Good!" He responds excitedly before correcting himself, "I mean like, good for you!"

I laugh, and push my luck to poke fun, "Sure dude,"

"I mean if anyone's a dick, we're already at a beach, they could totally accidentally drown," he attempts to dodge the gentle teasing.

I push it a little farther, leaning in, "Oh so you're gonna protect me?"

"Ah- that's not- uh fuck," he fumbles for something to say.

Laughter escapes me and I let him off the hook, turning back to my bag, "thanks man,"

"Yeah, no problem,"

Charlie makes his escape from the tent and I sit there for another minute. The buzz of booze his my head makes itself known in the silence. I slide a hand down my shorts and sure enough, my dick is at attention and there's wetness building between my legs. Fuck, Charlie. With my eyes closed I can only see his face as he looked over my chest. I finally let a quiet whine leave my lips. Maybe he does want me. Maybe it's the beers I've been putting back all day. With every inch of self control I have left I remove my hand from my shorts and leave the tent to join the others.

Ted drives us down to the beach, and we enjoy the sunshine, water, and sand for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. On the way back, we've got the windows down, singing some old country song along with the radio. In any other circumstance I'd groan at the twang, but something about being out in the woods makes it feel like it fits.

The rest of the evening and into the night we eat snacks, roast more hot dogs, play more cards, and drink around the cozy fire. Before it gets too dark each of us take turns heading down to the public showers. With the privacy and space of the stall I try my best to rub one out. The water is cold and I have to wear my flipflops on the slimey floors. I don't even get close before giving up.

When it's well into the night and everyone's heading to bed, I'm wide awake, drunk and hornier than I need to be. When I'm getting ready for bed I fumble out of my clothes and right on top of the blankets. Charlie's inside moments after me with his flashlight on, catching an eyeful of me in my boxers.

"Fuck man, I kinda tipped over changing," I laugh.

"Dude!" Charlie complains, "Put some pants on at least,"

I try my best to sit up, but fall right back on my face, giggling.

"Here, let me fucking help," Charlie sighs, looking through my bag for pjs, "Roll over."

"You're gonna put my pants on?" I say, unable to control the flirty teasing in my own tipsy voice, "Nice,"

"Fuck you're really drunk," he chirps right back. I can hear his smile through the exasperation.

I do roll over and manage to sit up, "You caught up to me not bad though,"

"Not even close the what you had," he tosses the pants at me.

I stand to try to put them on a flop back onto the air mattress before I even make it all the way up.

"Hopeless," he mutters, taking my pjs and trying to get my foot in through a leg.

"Charliiieee," I whine, resisting the help.

"Dude, seriously," he gets one legs through and starts on the other foot.

In the process of trying to dress me, Charlie ends up hovered over me between my legs. The whole thing has my dick throbbing and I just watch his mild frustration with awe. When he directs me to lift myself and pulls my pants the rest of the way up his hands slide up over my hips, stopping to rest on them. The squeak that leaves me sounds pathetic and I slap my hand over my mouth. One of my feet rests flat on the mattress, my knee up in the air. His body slides against my thigh when he does eventually sit up. Thankfully my hand over my mouth hides me biting into my bottom lip hard, suppressing more sounds.

"Dude, chill out," he laughs as he attempts to stand. The wobbly surface of the mattress takes him out and he falls forward, catching himself with hands on either side of my head.

I'm wide eyed as the sudden pressure on the inflatable bed bounces me up towards him. Our faces on inches from eachother. So of course, my dumb ass cracks a joke, "Damn, man, you didn't have to get me drunk to get me under you,"

"Fuck you," he grumbles, but I can hear the smile in his face in the dark.

"I mean, if you want to," I joke right back.

There's a pause from him before he pulls away again, this time rolling to the side to avoid falling. "Man, you are really wasted,"

"Guilty," I wait till he's off the mattress before climbing to my pillow and finding my way under the cozy blankets.

I hear him changing with my face turned away and my thoughts flutter over our day. Schlatt's words, Charlie in his swim shorts, his eyes on my chest, and that pause just now when I told him he could fuck me. God, there's something really wrong with me. I chastise myself. Then, after another thought, no there's not, he fucking wants me.

When Charlie settled into his spot, I consider briefly trying to hold his hand again before drifting off to sleep.

In the early hours I'm ripped from my dreams by a shaking. My hazy consciousness notices it's a hand on my shoulder jostling me awake.

"Dude, what the-?" I start, but Charlie's hand quickly covers my mouth. He's sweating.

"Shh! Listen," he whispers, letting go of my face.

I rub my temples with a hand, still a little drunk and in the early stages of a developing hangover. Then, there it is, in the distance. A barking. It's just a dog? In the dark, I shoot him daggers with my eyes for waking me. Suddenly there's another dog yapping much closer. Likely the weiner dog from a few campsites down. Then another from a different direction. Coyotes join in, yipping in chorus. The sound grows as canines from all over the woods join in.

"It's dogs, Charlie," I grumble under my breath. It's quite erie, but nothing unexpected for the middle of the forest.

"Wait," he whispers. The terror in his breath alerts me, and I also start to feel on edge.

Before long, the surrounding barking is cut off by a long howl. A wolf, but definately nowhere close to us. The dogs pause, the wolf bellows again, and the rest of the yapping group joins it. The howling comes from every direction in synch. I feel the hairs on my arms raise.

"Wait," Charlie says again. His hand never left my shoulder and it starts to squeeze, warning me that this isn't the worst of it.

When the howl dies I hold my breath in anticipation. The lone wolf starts, and when the dogs join in the don't howl, they don't bark. The sound they make is choppy, sporadic.

"Oh my god, they're laughing," I whisper. It's not a sound that should come from a dog's throat. The noise is unnatural, unnerving, but unmistakable.

Beside me Charlie is shaking. "They just keep doing this," there are tears in his voice.

"Hey, hey, it's gonna be okay," I say in an attempt to sooth him.

The shaking gets worse, and I take his hand off my shoulder. Working hard to move my body, I turn to him, sliding one arm under his head and wrapping the other around him. It's not hard to get him closer, he practically rushes into my arms. He settles his head on my chest and I stroke his hair as I hold him tight. Tears run down my bare skin, and I can hear Charlie sniffling.

"Shh, shhhh, I've got you, we're safe," I whisper as he curls up as close as he can get.

"I'm sorry," he whispers back.

"No worries, I've got you," I whisper back.

We lay like that for awhile, and eventually he falls asleep. My eyes are open, staring up into the pitch black of the tent. As I think about the days events I think instead of the birds on the window, the men talking about cows breaking down a wall, and the strange laughter of the dogs in the woods somewhere. I fall asleep too, but not easily, and my dreams are filled with little yellow birds with black beady eyes.

#slimecicle x reader #minors dni #slimecicle smut #mdni #horror video blogging rpf

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memymay · 1 year ago

Text

Mychael ~ Mushroom Oasis Oneshot

Chronically online reader pt.1

Who also has a worryingly short attention span

Fluff ~ GN Reader ~ No TWs

Reader Insert Master list ⭐️

!!NOTE!! This is not entirely accurate to the VN, usually i refer back to it making sure that i got everything correct, i did not do that for this one. I pulled the details from memory. If something’s wrong please leave a comment.

“Ok, I’ve got my phone, portable charger, and just in case i get lost, a solar charger…” you list off, looking at the many items spread across your bed. “My laptop and a charger, the forest might be a nice place to get work done. Peaceful too. Headphones, earbuds, extra charger…” you pause, thinking for a moment. you shouldn’t be out for too long, at most, you should be back by sunset. But you were hoping that once you found your precious furry little mischievous cat you could sit and get some work done, or maybe watch some anime. It was a rarity that you went outside anymore let alone adventuring through the woods. Why not take advantage of it?

“Oh yeah! Water and stacks, i should grab those too. And maybe some cat treats~” humming to yourself you walked to the kitchen, searching through your cabinets. “Maybe I should bring some soda too…” you muttered, reaching for your drinks. Walking back to your bedroom you start stuffing your backpack, ready for this journey. Stepping outside, the sun hit your face, blinding you. Squinting while your eyes adjusted you looked around. “Curse you evil day star, why do you gotta be so damn bright?” You muttered under your breath as you started walking into the forest. The shade of the trees eased the suns assault on your eyes, but it was still to bright for your liking.

after a while of walking, you came across a small patch of mushrooms. You stopped for a moment to look around. (And to rest a bit, all that stuff you packed is really heavy) there was something laying near the mushroom patch. Gasping as you reached down to pick up a collar “you must be close… just wait a little longer…” you muttered to the collar. As you stood back up, but your foot slipped causing you to crash back down and into the mushrooms. They sprayed you with what you assumed to be a foul smelling pollen. “Nooooo!” You wined, looking at your clothes. “I really liked this hoodie, it’s going to take forever to get all the allergens out. Eugh! And the smell…”

As you sat there, a sense of calm started to seep in. Along with the need to take a nap. Your eyes grew heavy, and your limbs relaxed. Closing your eyes, you decided to go ahead and take a nap. Laying down, you rested your head on your backpack. As you started to drift off, you thought that maybe your cat will back track and find you here. it would be a nice surprise to wake up with them back in your arms, snuggled up all cozy. Yeah, that would be nice.

“Ughhhh” you mentally groaned as you slowly woke up, begrudgingly you opening your eyes and noted that you were in an unfamiliar cabin. You couldn’t move your body causing you to spur into a panic. Where am I? Why can’t I move? Wait what happened? Was I drugged?! I think i was taking a nap, yeah, how long was I out?

“Oh, You’re awake.” A voice called from a corner of the room I couldn’t see.

“Here, medicine.” He said, moving me to sit up as he pressed a cup to my lips. Drinking it helped feeling slowly return to my body. As I wiggles my fingers and toes I watched him whip a stray stream from my chin. He had this weird mossy skin color… Was he a cosplayer? He looked kinda cute. His blonde hair hung over his eyes, and he had a cute mushroom hat on.

“Felling better? Anymore numbness?”

“No, my fingertips are a bit tingly, but that’s it.”

He signed and gave me a warm smile, “Good, I was worried.”

“By the wayyyyy” you dragged out, as you sat up “Where’s my bag?”

“Oh, right over there.” He gestured over to the fireplace where your bag sat next to the wall. “Here.” He said, standing up to hand you the bag.

Struggling, still loopy from whatever the hell paralyzed you, you scramble checking your bag. “Laptop, phone, charger, yep, yes, andddd everything’s still here!” You mumble to yourself. All the expensive electronics are not stolen, but also still in working conditions. Or at least you assume, both your phone and iPad are dead, the laptop is at 1%.

“Did you drop something?” The man asks,

“Thankfully not. A lotta expinsive stuff in here.” You look around, taking in the wooden walls and floors, “where am I anyway?”

“My cabin, I found you passed out while forgoing. Sorry, there was nowhere else nearby” he trails off, looking out the window.

“how far is the nearest town?”

He looks off to the side, a guilty look on his face, “I don’t know for certain, but it takes about a day and a half to safely get to the nearest-“

“A DAY AND A HALF!?” You almost shriek, he covers his ear, slightly flinching at the volume. “If you want to avoid the dangerous plants and animals, yes.” He responds, stepping closer and sitting next to you on the edge of the bed. He reached a hand out, wanting to comfort you, but decided against it.

You sat back, closing your eyes and thinking. ‘maybe I could stay here for a day or two? Then I could head back. Yeah, that should be enough time to mentally prepare myself. Then-‘

“Wait why was I even out here?” Instinctively you reached for your phone, wanting to check your notes. But remembering its dead, you pivoted to pretend you were going to clean the nonexistent dirt off the screen.

“WAIT!” Halfway through the action you remember, “My cat!” You wine.

“Have you seen them, they’re this big, and- and- ughhh I need to charge my phone i have pictures.” You rush to grab your charger. “I never thought I’d need this” you say pulling out the solar charger. “I’m glad it wasn’t just wasted money.”

Stumbling past him you set the charger on the nearby window and wait.

A few awkward moments pass by before your phone lights up. You hurriedly type in your passcode and go to your photos, the boy watching curiously over your shoulder.

“See! Aren’t they just the just the cutest! Look here are some kitten pictures!”

Watching you talk so passionately about your cat pulled at Mychael’s heart. He wasn’t going to tell you before, but now he definitely doesn’t want to tell you. You looked so happy, he enjoyed watching the way your eyes light up, and the way you smiled at the memories.

“Oh, I really got off track… but have you seen them?”

“No, I’m sorry, I haven’t.” He frowned.

“Oh…” your face fell, and he really didn’t like seeing you sad.

“Wait, I haven’t even told you my name! Sorry I get distracted a lot.” You said turning to look at him.

“I’m y/n”

“I’m Mychael”

Notes~

This is a lot longer than I expected it to be TvT. Originally I was gonna post tkatb or 14 days with you. However there’s like, barely any Mychael content out there (I read through it all in one sitting…) so I wanted to add a bit more there.

#mushroom oasis van #mushroom oasis mychael x y/n #mychael x y/n #mushroom oasis x reader #mushroom oasis #Mychael mushroom oasis #Mychael mushroom oasis x reader #x reader

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