#for this one specifically I almost... really wanted to wait for everyone who's getting one to get theirs before posting but | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sixxels · 2 months ago

Text

it girl

nerd!gojo x popular!model!reader

part 1 ! part 2 !

wc~ 14k

!!disclaimer!! will include heavy mentions of fling!sukuna, mentions of drug use, alcohol consumption, smut, angst/eventual confort.

summary so far: you’re the campus icon, glamorous, untouchable, always in the spotlight. but your world tilts when you fall for satoru gojo, awkward, brilliant, weirdly hot. what starts with flirty banter spirals into unexpected intimacy, and something real. you invite him into your life, your world, even your heart. but your past isn’t finished. sukuna, your toxic, magnetic almost-ex, crashes back in with chaos and temptation. now, torn between danger and devotion, you face a choice, the storm you know or the calm you crave.

the music feels louder now, like the bass is trying to drown out the lingering tension. satoru, suguru, choso nanami and shiu go back to their drinks, to their idle conversation, but there’s a charge in the air that hasn’t settled. you can feel it under your skin, buzzing hot and erratic, and it all traces back to him.

sukuna.

you clench your jaw, fingers curling around your drink too tight, and you know if you don’t get away right now, you’re gonna explode.

“i’ll be right back,” you mutter, not really waiting for anyone to answer. gojo blinks up at you, concern flaring in his pretty blue eyes, but you can’t look at him right now. not when your blood’s boiling and your vision’s turning red.

you sit up quickly, your pink bedazzled handbag left abandoned next to satoru as you stalk towards the exit of the kappa house.

you spot sukuna by the hallway, leaning against the wall like he owns the place. some girl’s trying to talk to him, all doe eyes and giggles, but he doesn’t even glance her way. his attention is on you, and the second your eyes meet, his mouth curves like he’s already won.

“you have five seconds to get your ass outside,” you hiss, storming past him. “or i’ll make a scene even you can’t top.”

he follows, of course he does, cocky and quiet, slipping through the crowd behind you like a shadow. you shove the door open and step out onto the porch, cold air rushing to your cheeks like a slap. it’s quieter here, but the anger still rings loud in your ears.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you snap, spinning around to face him.

sukuna lets the door fall shut behind him with a lazy click. “you’ll have to be more specific,” he says dryly. “i do a lot of things wrong.”

“don’t play coy,” you spit. “what the hell was that in there? you humiliated satoru, you embarrassed me, and you ruined the entire fucking vibe. why? because i brought someone new around?”

he raises an eyebrow. “i didn’t ruin anything. you brought a stray into the lion’s den, and i treated him accordingly.”

you blink at him, stunned. “you’re so fucking arrogant it’s unreal.”

he laughs, a dark, humorless sound that makes your chest tighten. “and you’re so naive. do you even know who that guy is? do you really think he gives a shit about you, or is he just riding the high of being seen with the school’s favorite wet dream?”

“fuck you,” you snap, voice rising now. “you don’t get to talk about him like that. you don’t get to act like you know anything about what i want or who i want.”

“i know you,” sukuna says sharply, stepping closer. “i’ve seen every version of you, the real ones. and you don’t fall for soft boys who flinch when someone looks at them sideways. you fall for assholes. you fall for people who can fight you and fuck you up at the same time.”

your chest heaves, fists clenched. “so that’s what this is about? jealousy?”

he smirks. “don’t flatter yourself.”

“you’re insane,” you hiss. “you think you get to waltz in here, throw a tantrum in front of everyone i care about, and still act like you’ve got some fucking claim over me?"

“i don’t have to act,” he growls. “i know what’s mine.”

“i’m not yours, sukuna!” you scream, voice echoing off the porch walls. “i never was!”

there’s a beat of silence.

his eyes flash, dark and dangerous. “then why the fuck do you keep coming back to me?”

you falter, lips parting, but nothing comes out. the words shrivel on your tongue because goddamn it, he’s right. you hate him. you want to rip his stupid smug face off. but your feet never seem to know how to walk away.

he steps forward again, close enough that your breath stutters. “you think gojo’s ever gonna get you? you think he could ever handle the mess that lives in your head? he doesn’t know you. not like i do.”

you open your mouth to fire back, but his hands are already on your face, rough and sudden, and before you can think better of it, you’re kissing him.

or maybe he’s kissing you. it doesn’t matter. it’s all teeth and fury, lips bruising against each other like a war cry. you shove at his chest, but it only pulls him closer, his hand sliding to your jaw, tilting your face up like he’s starving and you’re the only thing left on earth.

your back hits the porch railing, the wood biting into your spine, but you don’t care. you claw at his shoulders, your anger spilling out through every movement, every breath. he bites your lip and you moan, half in pain, half in something you don’t want to name.

“i hate you,” you gasp against his mouth.

“liar,” he breathes, and then he’s kissing you again, harder this time, like he wants to destroy every thought that isn’t him.

you hate this. you hate how his mouth fits against yours like it was made to, how every furious breath you take just drags him in deeper. your fingers are in his hair, pulling hard, like maybe you can hurt him enough to make yourself feel better. like maybe pain will make sense of the ache that’s been festering under your skin since the last time he touched you.

but it doesn’t. it just makes you hungrier.

your head is spinning, chest heaving, your lips swollen and stinging. it’s like trying to breathe underwater, like drowning in something you swore you were done with. you tell yourself this is a mistake. that you don’t want this, don’t want him. but your body isn’t listening.

because this is sukuna. it’s always sukuna.

every time you try to run, he finds you. every time you try to choose someone softer, safer, someone who smiles with his whole face and says your name like it’s something sacred, someone like satoru, you end up back here. back in the fire.

his hands are all over you now, possessive and rough, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he’s not touching enough of you. like he can keep you with his grip alone. but it’s not enough. it never is.

your heart is a snarl of guilt and want and why can’t i let this go?

“you ruin everything,” you whisper into his mouth, breath hitching.

his laugh is low, bitter. “then stop letting me in.”

you could. you should. god, why don’t you?

because you know what this is. what it’s always been.

it’s not love. it’s not soft. it’s a fucking car crash. it’s the chaos after a storm. it’s ugly and loud and burning, and you’ve always been too vain to admit how much of you is built like that too.

he sees it. he sees you. not the filtered version in the magazines, not the perfect smile you wear for the camera, not the queen bee everyone fawns over at parties.

he sees this. the bite in your voice, the tremble under your fury, the craving that lives in your bones. he matches it. mirrors it.

and you fucking hate him for it.

your fingers slip under his shirt without thinking, nails scraping along his stomach, and he growls into your mouth. it’s a mess—tongues, teeth, heat radiating off both of you like a fever. your back slams harder into the porch railing, and it almost hurts, but you like it. you need it.

your name leaves his lips like a threat and a prayer. like he’s begging and taunting you in the same breath.

you gasp. “you’re not allowed to say my name like that.”

“i’ll say it however the fuck i want,” he mutters, his mouth dragging along your jaw, biting at your skin. “you gave it to me.”

“i didn’t give you shit,” you snap, even as your thighs press together, as your hands fist in his shirt like you’re clinging to the edge of a cliff.

he pulls back just enough to look at you. his eyes are glassy and sharp all at once, drunk on you, on this, on the violence that lives between your mouths. “you don’t kiss someone like that if you want them gone.”

you stare at him. lips parted. breath ragged. the porch light flickers behind his head like a bad omen.

your chest aches. your stomach twists.

he’s right.

and you hate that he’s right.

but he’s wrong, too. wrong in the way he believes he’s the only one who sees you. like he’s the only one capable of wrecking you.

because gojo sees you too. in a different way. in a way that makes you feel safe, and not just seen. and suddenly the memory of those bright blue eyes flashes behind your lids, and it’s like a bucket of cold water.

you feel sick.

you shove sukuna off you.

he stumbles back a step, dazed, lips bruised and wet, his chest rising like he’s just come up for air.

“don’t,” you whisper, voice cracking.

he blinks. “what?”

your hands are shaking. your whole body’s shaking. “don’t pretend this means anything.”

his face twists. “are you fucking kidding me?”

“you’re not—” you bite down hard, fists clenched at your sides. “you’re not good for me. you know that. i know that. this—this thing we keep doing, it doesn’t go anywhere.”

he’s silent for a second, just staring at you like he’s trying to memorize you. or maybe figure out what the fuck you’re doing. his jaw ticks.

“you kissed me back.”

“i always kiss you back,” you snap. “and it always ends the same.”

he steps closer again, but this time you flinch.

“don’t,” you say, softer. “please.”

he stops.

your breath hitches again. “you’re supposed to be the bad choice. the one i got over. the one i left.”

“then why are you still here?” his voice is raw now, low and wrecked. “why do you keep choosing me?”

you don’t answer.

you can’t.

because this isn’t a choice. it’s an addiction. a wound you keep scratching open. a ghost you keep trying to fuck into silence.

and for a second, you almost say it. almost tell him that you don’t know how to stop. that you’re tired of hating yourself every time you leave his bed. that you wanted tonight to be different. to feel new. to feel clean.

but you don’t.

you just turn around.

your palms are sweaty. your face is hot. your lips are sore. and you want to cry.

you make it three steps before his voice catches you like a hook in your spine.

“he’s not gonna make you feel like this.”

you pause.

“he’ll never make you burn like this.”

your jaw clenches. your eyes sting.

you don’t turn around. you just whisper, “good.”

then you open the door, walk back into the party like you weren’t just sobbing on the inside. like your heart isn’t caught between a boy who looks at you like you’re made of gold, and one who touches you like he wants to ruin you.

like you aren’t already ruined.

you slammed the porch door shut, taking deep breaths as you try to calm yourself down again, trying to make the thought of that asshole go the hell away. heels clicking against the wooden floor, you navigate your way back to the couch where satoru and the rest were supposed to be sitting.

everyone seemed to be there, except satoru. you scanned the couch once, twice, no sign of him.

'shit, shit, shit.' you knew he wasn't a baby, but this was a new experience for a nerd like him, so where the hell was he? your pace quickened as you approached the couch, disrupting whatever dumb story chico was telling the others.

"where is he?" you pant.

they all give eachother looks, then point to the back entrance.

your eyes trailed to a retreating satoru, looking distraught as he pushed past people towards the exit, and he did not look happy.

'fuck? did he see? does he know?'

all the worst thoughts came flooding into your mind like a tidal wave, and before you new it, you were chasing after him.

you catch up to him just as he’s shouldering through the side door, the thud of it swinging shut behind him echoing in your ribs like guilt. the backyard is dark, string lights swaying in the breeze, but he’s already halfway across the lawn, walking like he doesn’t want to be followed.

“toru, wait—” your voice is too loud in the night, but he doesn’t stop. doesn’t turn around.

you jog after him, breath catching, dress hitching, heart still beating erratic from sukuna’s mouth and the shame curling under your skin.

“satoru!” you grab his arm.

he freezes. not the soft, playful kind of freeze, not the kind where he turns with a dumb grin and says something that makes you roll your eyes. no, this is cold. stiff. like touching him burned you both.

he turns around slowly.

his glasses are gone, tucked away in his pocket. you can see his eyes now, wide and blue and hurt, and it knocks the wind right out of you.

“why did you kiss him?” he asks.

you open your mouth, but nothing comes out. your lips part, the taste of sukuna still clinging to them like blood.

satoru huffs a breathless laugh and shakes his head. “don’t lie. just don’t.”

“i wasn’t—i didn’t mean to,” you say quickly, weakly, and you hate how it sounds, how pathetic it feels on your tongue.

“right,” he scoffs. “you accidentally made out with the guy who’s been staring at me like he wants me dead since the second he walked in.” he scoffs lightly. "I thought you'd at least be decent enough to at least try stay away from him while i'm here."

you flinch. “it wasn’t like that. i didn’t—he—god, satoru, he cornered me, and i was mad, and—”

“and you kissed him,” he says, like that’s the only part that matters. maybe it is. "y/n, you know how much i like you, how much ive spent obsessing over you. i'm not mad that you have flings and maybe ours didn't matter as much to you as it did me, but really? did you have to do that when you're supposed to be here with me?"

you don’t know what to say. the words are a mess in your mouth. you feel like a mess, standing here in your perfect outfit with your makeup smudged and your heart unraveling.

“do you still want him?” he asks, voice low. serious. it’s not a joke. it’s not a tease. it’s real. “because i need to know what the fuck i’m doing here.”

“i don’t want him,” you say. “not really.”

“‘not really’?” he repeats, blinking like he can’t believe this is happening. “jesus.”

“you don’t get it,” you say, chest tightening. “he’s in my head. he knows where all the broken parts are, and he uses them. he’s... he’s toxic.”

“and you kissed him anyway.”

you fall silent. the string lights hum above you. the muffled bass from inside is a heartbeat you can’t keep in time with.

“i thought maybe—” he starts, then cuts himself off. presses his lips together. swallows.

“what?” you ask, too softly.

he looks at you, eyes glassy, like he wants to say something brave but doesn’t know how. “i thought maybe i could be good for you, someone you could rely on, not just someone to bring around like a new handbag then go make out with another guy.”

you close your eyes. that’s the worst part. because he is good for you. he’s so fucking good it makes your chest hurt. and you—god, you’re the one who keeps reaching for the fire even though you know how it ends.

“you are good for me,” you whisper.

“then why do you keep running back to the guy who isn’t?” he snaps.

because you’re scared. because sukuna doesn’t ask you to be soft. because he meets you in the dark and doesn’t flinch. because being loved by someone kind feels like walking into the light with all your scars exposed.

you open your mouth, but he’s already stepping back.

“don’t,” he says. “it’s okay. i get it now.”

“satoru, please—”

“you don’t have to choose me,” he says, quiet. “just don’t pretend like you’re trying.”

and then he turns around.

and you let him go. because maybe that’s all you’ve ever known how to do.

but god, it fucking hurts.

you don’t go back inside.

you just sit there, out on the back steps, wrapped in silence like a punishment. the string lights flicker above you, dull and golden, casting little shadows across your knees as you lean forward and press your forehead into your hands.

your lipstick is smudged. your mascara’s probably ruined. the breeze lifts the hem of your dress and you don’t even care. you feel… hollow. like something vital has been scooped out of you and replaced with shame.

what the fuck was wrong with you?

you kissed sukuna.

you kissed him.

after everything. after the photo shoot, the café, the way satoru looked at you like you were the only girl in the world. after he made you laugh in front of your friends and actually held his own and didn’t even flinch when choso and suguru weee scoping him out.

you kissed someone else.

and not just someone else.

him.

you curl your fingers into your scalp, breathing hard. it wasn’t even worth it. sukuna was angry. you were angry. it wasn’t tender or special or even satisfying. it was just messy. bitter. a collision of teeth and heat and ego and old wounds. it tasted like guilt before it even ended.

you think about satoru’s face.

not just the hurt in his eyes, but the way he tried to hold it in. the way he looked at you like he was bracing for impact. like part of him already knew.

he told you how much he liked you.

satoru told you.

and you still...

you press your palms harder against your eyes until your vision pulses. maybe you’re a bad person. maybe sukuna was right all along, that you’re good at breaking things, even better at pretending you didn’t.

you don’t know how long you sit there. the party thumps on behind the walls, and eventually someone opens the door and asks if you’re okay. you say yes. you lie.

you always lie.

later that night in satoru’s dorm, he can’t sleep.

he’s tried.

he took a shower, burning hot, like he could scald the night off his skin. changed into clean clothes. even microwaved one of those sad little dorm ramen cups, just to have something to do with his hands.

but it’s almost 2 a.m. and he’s still wide awake, staring up at the ceiling like it might start answering questions if he looks long enough.

his room is quiet. too quiet.

no music, no phone calls, no stupid tiktok edits of you playing in the background as ambiance. just the hum of the mini fridge and the occasional creak of the floor above him.

his mind won’t shut up.

he keeps seeing her face.

god, your face.

the way your eyes looked when you grabbed his arm. panicked. guilty. pretty.

he hates that he still thinks you’re pretty.

that’s the worst part.

you could probably ruin him a thousand different ways, and he’d still think you look like art in the aftermath. like the kind of pain you’d thank for teaching you something.

he rolls over, groans into his pillow.

'why did you kiss him?'

he knows it’s stupid to ask. he already heard the answer. or at least part of it. the excuses, the guilt in your voice, the way you stood there like you’d already lost him and couldn’t figure out why.

but he’s not mad, not really. not anymore.

he’s just… embarrassed.

he replayed it in his head all night. how proud he’d felt showing up with you. how lucky. how fucking cocky, thinking he could handle this. that he could actually keep up with someone like you.

everyone was watching.

and he swore he could hear it, when it shifted.

the mood. the tension. the way suguru and choso exchanged glances like they knew. like something was wrong.

and then you came back without him.

lipstick smeared. breathing like you’d just sprinted through a storm.

and he knew.

he knew.

god, he’s such an idiot.

he’d been so sure it was going somewhere. that he wasn’t just another phase, another fling, another accessory in your glittering, chaotic world.

maybe he was just the nerd you flirted with for a week because he said something funny and liked your instagram pictures from 2019. maybe he was your rebound. your charity case. your soft, safe thing to play with until someone more exciting pulled you back in.

he rolls onto his back again, arm flung over his face.

he hates this.

he hates how his chest aches.

how he misses you already.

how every part of him wants to text you, even now, even after everything. not to yell. not to guilt you. just to ask if you got home okay. if you’re warm. if you’re still thinking about him.

he wants to delete your number. block your stories. act like he doesn’t care.

but he can’t.

because it wasn’t fake for him.

not even a little.

the way you looked at him over the coffee cup. the way you sat on his lap and whispered things that made his brain short-circuit. the way you smiled when he made you laugh, like you couldn’t believe he was real.

he felt seen.

he felt wanted.

and now…

now he just feels stupid.

his phone buzzes once on the desk.

he flinches. hopes it’s you. knows it’s not. still hopes anyway.

but it’s just yuji.

“u okay?”

he stares at the message. doesn’t answer.

he doesn’t know how to say 'yeah, i’m fine' when his chest feels like it’s full of glass.

he gets up, pacing.

his dorm is small, cramped, still smells faintly like instant noodles and cologne. the window’s cracked open but the night air does nothing to cool his thoughts.

he’s spiraling. he knows he is.

but how is he not supposed to? how do you go from being kissed like a secret in someone’s bedroom to being forgotten like background noise in the span of two days?

he sinks into his desk chair, elbows on his knees, face in his hands.

he can still feel your skin.

the way you smiled at him in that dress.

he didn’t imagine that.

he knows you’re not perfect.

knows you’ve got a past, and messy people in it.

he just thought maybe… maybe you wanted to leave some of that behind.

he thought he could be something solid for you. not flashy. not dangerous. not the guy who sets your world on fire, but the one who stays behind to put out the flames.

and maybe that was the problem.

maybe you don’t want to be saved.

he sits like that for a long time.

the sky outside goes from navy to gray, like the sun can’t quite make up its mind. the city’s still half-asleep. he’s exhausted but wired, rubbed raw with disappointment.

he doesn’t know what happens next.

doesn’t know if you’ll call. if you’ll say sorry. if you’ll even want to fix things.

and he’s not sure if he should let you.

two weeks.

that’s how long it’s been since the party. since you kissed sukuna. since you chased after him, breathless and guilty, and he walked away with that look on his face like you’d gutted him clean through.

since then, you’ve hardly seen him. you tried ,once, twice, but the timing was never right. or maybe it was and he just didn’t want to see you.

and satoru? he’s been surviving.

not in a dramatic, falling-apart kind of way. more like he’s forcing himself into the shape of a normal person. waking up, brushing his teeth, putting on clean clothes, going to class. no more daydreaming about you between lectures, no more rereading your old messages or checking your instagram like it’s gospel.

okay... maybe he does that last one. but only sometimes. only late at night when he’s half-asleep and weaker than usual.

what’s surprised him most is suguru and choso.

he wasn’t expecting them to reach out. they were your friends first, after all, your ride-or-dies, the intimidatingly cool guys who always hovered somewhere at the edge of your spotlight, sharp and beautiful and effortlessly magnetic.

but the night after the party, he got a text from suguru.

suguru [3:04am]: you free tomorrow? come kick it with us. no drama. just chill.

and satoru had stared at it for a full ten minutes, wondering if it was a trap. but the next morning, choso had caught him outside the dining hall, handed him an iced coffee, and nodded like that was that.

they were both surprisingly normal.

well, normal for two guys who looked like they walked out of a cursed gucci ad campaign.

suguru was cool in a dangerous kind of way, always calm, always watching. and choso was dry, a little deadpan, but had a weirdly comforting presence. they didn’t talk much about you, at first. just dragged him to their favorite ramen place off campus, introduced him to their movie night rituals (choso had incredibly niche horror taste), and made him feel like he wasn’t completely drowning.

he learned that choso actually did art, really well. but the brown haired boy had to quickly put away his sketch pad when showing satoru some of the stuff he's done when sketches of you suddenly flipped past.

surprisingly, suguru was lowkey a genius who edited most of your essays when you didn’t feel like doing them yourself. they made fun of satoru’s nerd tendencies, but in a gentle way. never cruel. never dismissive.

it made something in him loosen.

“you ever gonna stop moping?” suguru asked one night, a week and a half in, stretched out on the floor of choso’s room with a joint between his fingers and his laptop open to a cursed playlist full of slow jam remixes.

satoru was curled up in a beanbag chair with a bowl of stale popcorn, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands. “not moping.”

“you’re a little mopy,” choso said, sprawled on his stomach like a sleepy cat, paint under his fingernails.

“i’m trying to move on,” satoru muttered, cheeks hot. “this is me moving on.”

suguru snorted. “you’re sulking and stalking her instagram. that’s not moving on. that’s… spiraling with extra steps.”

satoru groaned and shoved his face into a pillow. “i hate that you’re right.”

they didn’t press the issue after that. just let him lie there, halfway stoned and emotionally gutted, while slow music thudded in the background and the lights flickered like a lullaby.

the thing is, he liked hanging out with them. not just because it was a distraction, but because they were actually good company. smart. grounded. weirdly funny. they made him feel like maybe he wasn’t completely lame, even if he still wore anime hoodies and overthought everything to death.

but no matter how much fun he had, no matter how many late night hangouts or inside jokes they built, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

you were a background hum. a ghost in the static. always there, just out of reach.

he’d be laughing at something choso said and suddenly remember the way you used to scrunch your nose when you were really amused. he’d be scrolling through his phone and see your story, half your face in golden hour, lips glossy, eyes unreadable, and his stomach would drop like a stone.

it wasn’t fair.

he knew you weren’t perfect. he knew sukuna was a whole mess of a situation. he knew you’d made your choices, and maybe it should’ve been enough to just… let it go.

but he missed you anyway.

he missed the way you looked at him like he was interesting. like he wasn’t just some nerd you found amusing but someone who could actually keep up with you. he missed the way you teased him, the way you touched him, like you weren’t afraid of breaking something delicate. like he wasn’t fragile at all.

and he hated that he still wanted you.

hated that every time someone mentioned your name . in passing, in stories, in whispers across campus, his chest tightened just a little. hated that every hallway he walked down, he scanned for a glimpse of your outfit, your laugh, your perfume.

hated that the night you kissed sukuna still lived behind his eyelids when he closed his eyes.

“you’re doing better,” choso said, two weeks in, as they sat on a campus bench under a gray sky, sketchbook open in his lap. “you don’t look like you’re gonna cry when someone says her name anymore.”

“wow,” satoru said dryly, sipping his third coffee of the day. “glowing review.”

“seriously, though,” suguru added, standing nearby with his headphones around his neck. “you’ve come a long way. just… don’t trick yourself into thinking she’s your only shot.”

satoru nodded. because he knew they were right.

he’d gone from completely crushed to almost functioning. from heartbreak to the hazy kind of ache that feels survivable, even if it still hurts.

but late at night, when the music’s off and his phone’s quiet and the dorm room feels too still, it’s your name that sits in his chest like a song stuck on repeat.

you, in that ridiculous mcbling outfit the first time he saw you.

you, grinning behind your phone at the cafe. you, on his lap during the photoshoot, skin warm, voice low. you, whispering that some of those pictures were only for him.

he exhales, pressing his forehead to his pillow.

you’re not his anymore. maybe you never were.

but god, he wishes you had been.

now, it was late. later than it should’ve been for three college guys to be cramped into a diner on a tuesday night, the air heavy with the smell of grease and cheap cigarettes from the patio two tables over. satoru stirred the straw in his milkshake for the fifth time, his long fingers twitching around the paper cup. he hadn’t taken a sip in fifteen minutes.

choso sat across from him, hood up, dark circles under his eyes. suguru leaned back beside him, stretched out like he owned the booth, but there was a tension in his posture that gave him away, his knuckles were tight around the root beer glass, jaw clenched.

they hadn’t talked about you all night. they’d been talking about some dumb movie suguru wanted to drag them to next weekend, about choso’s lab partner who smelled like onions and always messed up the titrations. they laughed, satoru forced a smile or two, but it all kept coming back.

your name was on the tip of his tongue.

he couldn’t stop seeing you in the back of his mind. that same bright, filtered version of you, laughing in the latest instagram reel, posing in low lighting with sunglasses on inside some house party, tagging friends he’d never met, showing off outfits and drinks and that same fucking smile. like none of it had happened. like that night on the lawn hadn’t torn something open between you.

“can i ask something?” satoru finally said, voice too soft for how loud the question felt in his chest.

choso looked up first, eyebrows raised. suguru stopped stirring his drink.

“for sure,” suguru said carefully.

satoru hesitated, tapped his finger on the table. “how’s she doing?”

neither of them responded right away. choso blinked, eyes sliding toward suguru. suguru’s lips pressed into a line, his jaw ticking once. they looked at each other like they were silently deciding who would speak first, like the question was loaded. like they hadn’t expected it.

that’s how satoru knew.

“guys?...” he said softly. "i've seen her stories, her tiktok's, it looks like everything's fine-"

“it’s not,” choso said, and his voice was so quiet, so flat, it made satoru’s stomach drop.

he looked between them, his milkshake forgotten. “what do you mean?”

“she’s not doing great,” suguru said simply. his fingers toyed with the condensation on the side of his glass. “she’s trying to make it look like she is. but it’s bad.”

satoru felt his mouth go dry.

“how bad?”

choso exhaled through his nose. “she parties almost every night. not even with us anymore. she goes out with friends we've never even met, or ends up crashing wherever there’s noise. doesn’t text back. won’t answer calls unless she’s blacked out and sobbing.”

“drugs, too,” suguru added. “she’s not subtle about it. ket, molly, sometimes coke. whatever keeps her numb enough to not think.”

satoru looked down at his hands.

“why?”

suguru glanced at choso. “you really wanna know?”

he nodded. “i do.”

“because she feels like shit,” choso said bluntly. “like she ruined everything with you and now she doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

there was a silence after that. just the low hum of the diner lights, the soft clatter of dishes in the kitchen. satoru felt like something heavy was pressing against his ribs, like all the air had been sucked out of the booth and he was stuck inside a vacuum of his own thoughts.

satoru doesn’t breathe. his throat tightens. “but she looks—”

“yeah,” choso cuts in, voice low. “she looks great. viral. perfect. whatever. but the second she’s off camera, it’s like someone shuts the lights off inside her. she’s barely sleeping. barely eating unless someone forces her. the other night she had to be carried out of a club because she blacked out in a stairwell.”

satoru’s heart cracks so hard it echoes in his chest.

he tries to picture you like that, not the version with glossed lips and glittery eyeshadow, not the one who called him baby and straddled his lap like she owned him, but the one behind all that. the girl with shaking hands. the girl who’s hurting.

“and sukuna?” he asks, quietly. “are they…?”

suguru snorts. it’s bitter. “they’re done.”

choso nods. “she blew up at him. told him to go fuck himself. said he ruined everything. blocked him on everything. hasn’t spoken to him since.”

satoru’s eyes sting.

“it wasn’t pretty,” suguru adds. “they were screaming at each other outside some gallery opening. like, full scene. she was shaking. he tried to touch her and she slapped him.”

something inside satoru goes cold. “jesus.”

satoru swallowed hard. his throat was tight. “why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

“because we didn’t want to make it worse,” suguru said. “we know how you felt about her. still feel, probably.”

satoru didn’t say anything to that.

he didn’t need to.

choso leaned forward a little. “we didn’t pick sides. we’ve been trying to hold her together without enabling her. but honestly, she’s falling apart either way.”

“she asks about you sometimes,” suguru said. “not directly. just… in passing. like she’s pretending she doesn’t care but hoping we’ll slip up and say something.”

“we don’t, though,” choso added. “she’s not ready.”

satoru let out a shaky breath and leaned forward, elbows on the table, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms. “i hate that i still care,” he admitted.

“you don’t,” choso said. “you just hate that she doesn’t care about herself.”

satoru stared down at the milkshake between his hands.

“yeah,” he whispered. “that too.”

they sat in silence again, the three of them surrounded by the buzz of fluorescent lights and clinking silverware. the outside world moved on around them, uncaring, fast, dizzying. and still, satoru felt stuck.

“she ever gonna stop?” he asked eventually. “the partying, the drugs, the… self-destruction?”

“we’re trying,” choso said.

“but it’s not about us,” suguru added. “she has to want it. and right now? she’s just trying to block everything out.”

satoru nodded slowly.

he understood that.

maybe more than he wanted to.

“you think she’s gonna be okay?” he asked.

neither of them answered right away.

then suguru looked him dead in the eyes. “maybe. if she gets out before it eats her alive.”

satoru closed his eyes.

he could still see her, laughing in a video from just two days ago. some party, some guy’s lap she was half-sitting on, a drink in her hand and too much glitter on her cheeks. you looked like you were having the time of your life. you always did.

but now, it didn’t look fun anymore.

now it looked like drowning.

he opened his eyes again, staring blankly at the drink in front of him.

“i miss her,” he said quietly.

choso didn’t say anything.

suguru just nodded.

“we know." he murmured.

you wake up in a stranger’s bed. again.

the sheets smell like stale sweat and cheap cologne. your head pounds, a dull throb that echoes the bass of last night’s club. you sit up, the room spinning, your mouth dry and tasting of regret.

flash.

you’re in the club, lights strobing, bodies pressing against you. someone hands you a drink—you don’t ask what it is. you down it, chasing the numbness.

flash.

you’re laughing, too loud, too bright. someone’s lips are on yours, but you don’t care who they belong to. it’s not him. it’s never him anymore.

flash.

you’re in a bathroom stall, powder on your fingertips. you tell yourself it’s just to keep the night going. to keep from feeling.

flash.

you’re dancing on a table, bottle in hand, screaming the lyrics to a song you don’t know. your 'friends' cheer, but their faces blur. they're not your real friends, you're ignoring them right now.

flash.

you’re alone in your room, the silence deafening. you stare at your phone, his name still blocked. you want to call, to hear his voice, but pride and shame hold you back.

flash.

you’re at another party, another drink in hand. someone offers you something stronger. you take it without hesitation.

flash.

you’re in a car, the city lights blurring past. you don’t know where you’re going, and you don’t care.

flash.

you’re back in bed, the stranger beside you snoring softly. you slip out, gathering your clothes, avoiding the mirror.

you tell yourself you’re fine.

you post a selfie, filters hiding the bags under your eyes, the hollowness in your gaze. the likes pour in, affirming the lie.

but the emptiness grows.

you see him in your dreams, his eyes filled with hurt. you wake up crying, the ache in your chest unbearable.

you try to fill the void.

more parties, more substances, more meaningless encounters. more more more. each one leaves you feeling emptier than before.

your real friends notice.

they try to intervene, their voices filled with concern. you brush them off, insisting you’re just having fun.

but deep down, you know.

you’re spiraling, losing yourself in the chaos. the pain you’re trying to escape consumes you.

you miss him.

his laugh, his touch, the way he looked at you like you mattered. you wonder if he thinks of you, if he regrets walking away.

you want to reach out.

but you’re scared. scared of rejection, of facing the consequences of your actions.

so you continue the cycle.

numbing, partying, pretending. hoping that one day, the pain will fade.

but it doesn’t.

and you’re left with the fragments of who you used to be, trying to piece yourself back together in the aftermath.

now you were drunk at some house party, you don’t remember what he said, this random asshole.

something stupid. something smug. something about how he “always knew you’d come back,” like you were some broken thing crawling back to its owner.

it’s not sukuna, but it might as well be. same type. same eyes. same voice that makes you feel like your ribs are cracking under the weight of old mistakes.

you’d laughed at first. that sharp, detached laugh you’ve perfected over the past two weeks, where your teeth gleam and your eyes stay dead. but then he touched your waist and said it again, said something about how “girls like you always need attention,” and something just snapped.

“fuck you,” you’d hissed.

he grinned. smug. wide. “god, you’re a mess. weren’t you, like, crying over some nerd last week?”

and that was it.

something inside you went cold and then red-hot all at once.

you don’t remember lunging at him, not really. don’t remember screaming. don’t remember shoving your drink into his chest or the sound of the cup hitting the floor. just your voice cracking and screaming “you don’t know shit about me!” as everything else blurred out.

the music stopped.

the room hushed. just like that.

you were shaking. mascara streaming down your face, hands clenched at your sides, chest heaving as you stared at him like you wanted to kill him, but mostly like you wanted to disappear.

he was laughing. of course he was. brushing you off like you were nothing. like your breakdown was a punchline.

and that hurt more than anything else.

everyone was watching.

you stumbled backwards, caught someone’s shoulder, shrugged off the hand that tried to steady you. you muttered something, maybe fuck all of you, maybe i’m fine, and bolted out the front door, into the cold.

the walk back to your dorm is a blur of static. your heels in your hand, feet bleeding. phone dead. everything else too loud.

the second your door clicks shut behind you, you collapse against it, sliding down the wood until you’re a heap on the floor.

you breathe.

and then you sob.

your dorm smells like laundry detergent and fake perfume and something rotting in the trash. it’s a mess. like you. discarded outfits on the floor, makeup-stained tissues, a magazine with your own face on the cover torn in half and stuffed under a pillow.

you pull your knees to your chest and press your face to them.

and finally, the silence hits you.

and the silence says: you did this.

you let go of the good thing. you fucked up the only love that ever felt real. you kissed a ghost and chased it straight into hell and now you’re here, screaming at strangers and crying on the floor of your overpriced dorm because no one loves you enough to stop you.

no one loves you like he did.

no one ever has.

and you didn’t know how to handle it. didn’t know how to be held that gently without flinching. didn’t know how to believe someone like satoru could really want someone like you.

not after everything.

not when you’re like this.

because what are you, really, without the followers and the outfits and the fake smiles? you’re just a girl who doesn’t know how to be soft. who only knows how to survive. who only knows how to run when things get too quiet.

you think about that afternoon in the library.

how warm he looked. how he looked at you like you were a secret he wanted to learn by heart. how careful he was when he touched you. how he blushed when you teased him.

how safe you felt.

and then you remember how he looked when he asked, “do you still want him?”

and how you said “not really.”

god.

what the fuck is wrong with you.

your body feels like it’s giving out. like there’s nothing left.

because no matter how many parties you go to or bottles you finish or people you let touch you, you still feel empty. still feel haunted.

he’s in everything.

you see him in your notifications, even when they’re not from him. in the mirror, when you put on that shade of gloss he liked. in the way your fingers still hover over his contact at 3am. in every guy you ignore because he isn’t tall enough or kind enough or awkward enough.

he’s in the way your chest aches when you’re alone.

he’s in the way no one else has ever made you feel like you were more than pretty.

you curl up tighter, sobs wracking your ribs.

you want to call him.

you want to say i’m sorry and please come back and i think i’m in love with you and i don’t know how to live with that.

but you don’t.

because he deserves better.

he deserves peace. he deserves mornings with someone who doesn’t disappear at night. he deserves someone who won’t break his heart just because she doesn’t know how to hold something so gentle.

you deserve the emptiness.

you stay on the floor until your legs go numb.

satoru doesn’t think twice when suguru texts him.

suguru [6:23pm]: party tonight. u coming?

he stares at the screen for a while. it’s not like he wants to go. he’s not really in the mood to pretend he’s fun or normal or even okay. but it’s been three weeks now since everything cracked open. two weeks since that night he saw you pressed up against sukuna like nothing had ever mattered. two weeks of trying to breathe through the ache.

suguru and choso have been good to him. better than he deserves. they don’t mention you unless he does. they keep things easy. movies, ramen, lazy afternoons in suguru’s apartment. they never pressure him to talk about it. they just sit with him when the silence gets too heavy.

maybe that’s why he says yes.

he wants to be normal. wants to be fine. wants to believe he can be in a room with people again without thinking of you.

so he throws on a hoodie and jeans, meets them outside the apartment, and pretends he’s not thinking about you when suguru says, “you sure you’re up for this?”

“yeah,” satoru says, forcing a grin. “i’m not gonna cry in the bathroom, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

choso snorts. “please do. it’ll give the party some depth.”

the three of them laugh, and for a second, it almost feels okay.

the bass was thudding through the floorboards. lights were low and hazy, smoke curling around the ceiling like the whole house was about to levitate. bodies pressed in on all sides, moving like one dumb, brainless thing. the stink of alcohol, sweat, perfume and something sharper thick in the air. he hated it. he used to imagine parties were exciting, glamorous even. that’s how you always looked in them, anyway. perfect lighting. perfect makeup. perfect body. always with a drink in your hand, someone whispering in your ear, laughing like your world wasn’t on fire behind your ribs.

he’d forgotten for a second. just a second. forgotten this was your scene. your territory.

and then he saw you.

it knocked the air right out of him.

you didn’t see him. not even close. you were across the room in a dress that barely stayed up, mascara smudged under your eyes, glitter on your collarbones like dust. and you were smiling. at least, your mouth was. your eyes didn’t look like they were part of your face anymore. they were glassy, unfocused, empty. like someone had taken the real you out of your body and left a wind-up doll in your place.

he watched as you tossed your head back and laughed too loud at something a guy said, someone he didn’t know, someone with his hand way too low on your waist. he watched you throw back a drink, wince, then immediately go for another. he watched you stumble when someone bumped into you and laugh like it was the funniest thing in the world.

suguru nudged him. “hey,” he said. “you okay?”

satoru didn’t answer.

his hands were in his pockets, jaw clenched so tight it ached. he couldn’t look away.

“you didn’t know she’d be here,” choso said quietly, from his other side.

no, he didn’t. they hadn’t told him. maybe they hadn’t known. maybe they had. he didn’t care. what mattered was that you were here, and you were unraveling in front of his eyes.

“she looks like she’s having fun,” suguru said, but even he sounded like he didn’t believe it.

satoru scoffed under his breath. “yeah. a real blast.”

he watched you take a shot like it was medicine, watched you lean into the guy you were with, whisper something in his ear, pull back and laugh like it was a game. you weren’t like this before. not like this. even in the middle of chaos, you had always looked composed. seductive. untouchable. now you just looked… lost.

you looked like you were trying to disappear.

“you sure you wanna stay?” choso asked, voice low.

satoru nodded once. too stiff, too quick. “yeah,” he muttered. “i’m fine.”

he wasn’t. every second was hell.

he didn’t want to see you like this. didn’t want to feel this sick, weighted thing sinking deeper into his chest with every minute. he hated you a little, just then. hated you for not seeing him. for not noticing. for making him watch.

and then he saw it.

some guy, some random fucking guy in a hoodie, holding something small and white in his palm, offering it to you like it was a secret. and you, laughing like none of it mattered, plucked it from his hand without hesitation. like it was candy. like it was nothing.

satoru snapped.

he didn’t remember moving, didn’t remember the plastic cup slipping from his hand or the way the music turned into a dull, echoing thud behind his ears. all he knew was that he saw you tilt your head back, laughing like the world wasn’t burning around you, and that little white pill disappearing past your lips like it meant nothing. like you meant nothing.

he was moving before he could think. heat rising under his skin like fire. maybe suguru called after him. maybe choso did, too. he didn’t hear. he just moved.

you didn’t even notice. of course you didn’t. you were busy spinning in slow, unbalanced circles near the kitchen, holding onto a stranger’s arm like it was your lifeline. your mascara was smudged. your lip gloss was all rubbed off. your dress was crooked on one shoulder. and you were smiling.

like you weren’t slowly breaking in front of everyone.

satoru shoved past the guy closest to you without hesitation and grabbed your wrist, not rough, never rough, even now, and pulled you out of the noise, down a dim hallway that smelled like dust and perfume and old beer.

“heyyy,” you giggled, stumbling into his chest with a hiccup. “wait—where’re we goin’?”

he backed you gently against the wall. not to scare you. just to make you stop. to see you.

“what the fuck did you just take?” he asked, voice low and shaking. “do you even know what that was?”

you blinked at him slowly. your lashes stuck together a little with old mascara. your smile stayed soft, dreamy.

“whoa… y’re really pretty,” you murmured, completely dazed. “d’you always yell at girls you just met?”

satoru froze. “you don’t recognize me?”

you tilted your head and giggled again, swaying a little. “no… but you... you kinda sound like...”

he stared at you, heart kicking.

you kept smiling, glassy-eyed and soft. “mm. like—like my toru…”

satoru’s breath hitched. your toru.

“w-who do i sound like?” he asked carefully.

you blinked slowly, lip gloss smudged. “my toruuu,” you whispered like it was a secret. “he talks like you. all bossy. gets mad when i do stupid stuff. but he’s sooo cute about it. he used to get all flustered and blushy when i called him pretty. ‘s’so cute…”

satoru couldn’t breathe.

“he always looked at me like i hung the moon or somethin’. he used t’get sooo serious when i was sad. even when i was tryin’ to hide it, he knew.”

you wiped at your face with the back of your hand, eyes getting wet. “he’d just—ugh, he’d hold my hand real tight under the table. or text me hearts in class. one time he ran across campus in the rain to bring me my stupid lip balm ‘cause i left it in his bag—so dumb, right?”

your voice cracked, but your smile stayed. dreamy. faraway.

“i love toru,” you whispered, eyes unfocused.

satoru’s chest was splintering.

“what happened?” he asked softly.

you leaned your head back against the wall and giggled through your tears. “i messed it alllll up. kissed the wrong guy. made my toru sad. real sad. now he’s gone and i’m like... y’know, jus’ floatin’ around. bein’ a mess. tryna party him outta my brain.”

you swayed again. satoru caught you before you could fall.

“everyone thinks i’m sooo fine,” you slurred. “they’re like, ‘wow, she’s soooo fun, she’s soooo cool, look at her little outfits, she’s sooo hot.’ but i’m like… dying inside. literally dying.”

you said it with a giggle. like it was funny. like it wasn’t killing you.

“i miss him so bad,” you sighed. “his dumb glasses. his dumber shirts. the way he used t’get so excited about science crap, ugh, it was so hot when he nerded out.”

satoru’s throat was raw.

“y'know you kinda smell like toru...he made me feel so…” you paused, eyes fluttering. “safe. like i didn’t have t’be anything but me.”

your voice broke. “i don’t feel like me anymore.”

he didn’t know when he’d started shaking. he just knew you didn’t see him. really see him. you were too far gone. too out of it. too wrapped up in the haze of loss and liquor and longing.

“he’s prolly moved on,” you whispered, slumping against him, head to his chest. “prolly forgot all about me. ‘s’okay. i get it. i’m messy. i’m a lot.”

you looked up at him eyes completely unfocused, lip trembling. “but i miss him.”

your voice was barely audible.

“miss him every’ day.”

he caught you as your legs buckled again, arms cradling you like glass. your perfume was familiar. your weight against him felt like everything he’d ever wanted and everything he’d lost, all at once.

“i still sleep in his shirt sometimes, he- he left it at my dorm when we slept together for the first time...” you mumbled. “even tho it don’t smell like him no more.”

satoru held you tighter.

“i jus’ want my toru back,” you sobbed. “i promise i’ll be good this time.”

and when your voice cracked, when you whispered “i love him” like it was the only truth left in you, satoru closed his eyes and held you close, because he couldn’t say anything. not yet.

not when you didn’t even know he was there.

so he stayed. trembling. breaking. aching.

and you clung to him like he was a stranger.

still calling his name. still calling him yours.

satoru didn’t even remember getting out of the house.

he just knew you were in his arms.

you’d passed out sometime between the end of that hallway and the front door, your body slack against his chest, face tucked against the crook of his neck. you smelled like tequila and cherries and perfume, your perfume. the one that made his heart ache now with every inhale.

someone said something as he carried you through the living room, choso, maybe. suguru was behind him, he thought, offering to help. but satoru didn’t stop. he didn’t look back. he just held you tighter and walked out into the cool night air like a man with one purpose.

the city buzzed quietly in the background. neon lights flickered off rain-slick pavement. everything felt slowed down and far away.

he got the passenger door open with one hand. it was clumsy, fumbling, but he didn’t want to let you go. not even for a second.

you didn’t stir as he laid you back gently against the leather seats of his car. you just breathed softly, cheek pressed to your shoulder, a little smudge of glitter still clinging to your eyelids. you looked so small like this. so far from the glossy, untouchable girl on everyone’s feed.

he sat in the driver’s seat for a moment before starting the engine. his hands were shaking.

you loved him.

you said it over and over, like a spell. and you hadn’t even known it was him you were talking to.

satoru had tried so hard these past weeks to let you go. he’d gone out with suguru and choso. laughed. trained. even flirted with some girl at the bookstore who asked about his glasses.

but none of it stuck. nothing filled the space you left behind.

he watched the streetlights blur past the windshield as he drove, one hand tight around the steering wheel, the other resting on your thigh to steady you. like you’d vanish if he didn’t keep you grounded.

you missed him.

you still slept in his shirt.

he let out a breath that was half a sob and blinked hard to keep his eyes clear. he couldn’t cry. not now. not when you needed him steady.

he pulled into the male dorm parking lot, parked, then walked around the car. you shifted a little as he opened the door and scooped you back into his arms, but you didn’t wake. just buried your face deeper into his chest like your body still knew him even if your mind didn’t.

the elevator ride felt endless. the whole building was quiet. just the soft hum of fluorescent lighting and the occasional shuffle of his sneakers on tile.

he carried you down the hall, fished out his keys, and nudged the door open with his foot.

his dorm was still the same. clean, minimal. a few books stacked on the counter.

satoru laid you gently on his bed, brushing your hair back from your forehead with shaking fingers. your lashes fluttered but didn’t open. your lip gloss had mostly worn off. your breathing was steady now, quiet and warm.

he kneeled beside the bed and stared.

you loved him.

you were falling apart without him.

how had he not seen it? how had he convinced himself that your pretty stories and perfect posts were real? that you were just moving on while he was losing his mind?

you weren’t okay. not even close.

his chest cracked wide open. all the things he’d buried over the last few weeks came rushing back in like a flood, every moment he missed you, every time he started to text you and couldn’t, every time he saw someone else look at you like you were a prize and had to pretend it didn’t kill him inside.

he pressed the back of his hand to your cheek. you were still warm. still here.

you loved him.

your toru.

he let out a slow breath and leaned forward, resting his forehead lightly against your temple.

“i love you,” he whispered. “god, i love you so much.”

he stayed like that for a while. breathing with you. trying to memorize the sound of it.

then, gently, he stood.

he brought you water, set it on the nightstand.

he found wipes in the drawer. he cleaned your face carefully, wiping away the smeared mascara and glitter. then he slipped one of his shirts over your dress, warm from the dryer and smelling like him, and tucked the blankets around you.

you looked so peaceful now. no pain on your face. no glassy, fake smile.

just you.

satoru sat on the floor beside the bed, knees pulled up, arms draped over them, watching you breathe.

he didn’t know what came next. didn’t know what he was supposed to do tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that.

he just knew you were here.

and that was enough, for now.

you wake up slowly.

your head is pounding, mouth dry, and there’s a bitter taste in the back of your throat that makes your stomach churn. everything aches. the air smells faintly like clean linen and something warm, cologne maybe, expensive, familiar. your fingers twitch against the duvet, soft and foreign, and when you blink your eyes open, you’re not in your dorm.

you’re in his.

the light filters through sheer curtains you’ve never seen before, washing everything in muted gold. the bed is big, too big for just one person. there’s a hoodie slung over the desk chair. a textbook cracked open on the floor. a sleek pair of glasses folded neatly beside a stack of manga.

your heart lodges in your throat.

satoru.

you sit up too fast. the nausea hits you like a punch to the gut, but you bite down on it. memories come in fragments, shots, music, spinning lights, a hand offering a pill. then a hallway. then him. a voice you’d swear belonged to your memories. the warmth of arms around you. not cruel, not cold. safe.

a creak.

your head snaps to the doorway, and there he is.

satoru, standing there like a ghost you wished for too hard.

his hair’s a mess. he’s still in the shirt from last night, wrinkled and slightly damp at the collar like he’s been rinsing his face over and over. his eyes lock onto yours and his expression break, just a little, like he wasn’t ready to see you awake. like he’s been pacing the edge of this moment and now he’s fallen in.

“hey,” he says softly.

your throat tightens. “hey.”

silence. thick. heavy. his fingers twitch at his sides, and you grip the edge of the duvet like a lifeline.

“i—” you start, but the words crumble. shame floods you, hot and choking. “was it really you? last night?”

he nods. his voice barely makes it out. “yeah.”

you drop your head. your hands tremble as they pull the blanket up higher. “god. i thought—you—I thought i was talking to a stranger.”

“i know.”

“i said so much.” your voice cracks. “i didn’t know it was you.”

he steps forward then, cautiously, like you might vanish if he’s too quick. he sits on the edge of the bed, not too close, not too far. you glance at him, and he looks… wrecked. like he hasn’t slept. like he’s been hollowing himself out to make space for this grief.

“you meant it though,” he says, quietly. “everything you said.”

you nod slowly. “every word.”

you don’t mean to cry, but you do. the tears come fast, hot and silent, trailing down your cheeks as your lip trembles. you wipe them away quickly, but he sees.

of course he sees.

and when he reaches for you—hand slow, careful—you let him. his fingers brush yours, warm and steady, and it’s like breathing for the first time in weeks.

“i didn’t know how to live without you,” you whisper. “after that night. i kept trying to be okay and i just… fell apart.”

his hand shifts, cups your cheek, thumb swiping away a tear. “i saw. at the party. i saw you.”

“oh my god,” you bury your face in your hands. “that’s so fucking embarrassing.”

“no,” he murmurs. “it’s not. it was awful. watching you like that. i wanted to pull you away the second we got there.”

you lower your hands. his eyes are glassy. you’re not sure when he started crying too.

“you shouldn’t still care,” you say, quietly. “after what i did.”

“i couldn’t stop if i tried.

he leans forward, forehead pressed to yours, breath hitching against your lips.

“i love you,” he says. it spills out like a secret too heavy to hold. “i love you so much it fucking ruins me. i tried to forget. i tried to move on. but every time i close my eyes it’s just you. laughing. posing. slurring about your toru like he hung the stars.”

your breath shakes. “he did.”

his lips are soft when they kiss your cheek. then your jaw. then the corner of your mouth. not greedy. not hungry. just there. grounding.

“you looked so happy when you talked about me,” he whispers. “even when you didn’t know it was me. like i meant something. like i wasn’t just—temporary.”

“you’re not,” you breathe. “you never were.”

your fingers find his shirt and tug him closer. your body curls into his, all shaky breath and uneven heartbeats. he gathers you into his lap without hesitation, arms wrapped around you like he’s terrified you’ll disappear again. your face presses to his shoulder, and his palm runs up and down your back.

“i should’ve fought harder,” you murmur. “i let you go because i didn’t think i deserved you. and maybe i don’t. but i missed you so much, toru. every day felt like drowning.”

his voice is thick, soft. “then let’s come up for air. together.”

you clutch his shirt tighter. “i don’t wanna do this without you anymore.”

“you don’t have to,” he whispers into your hair. “i’m here. you hear me? i’m here.”

you nod. your tears soak into his shoulder, and his thumb strokes your spine gently, his breath shaking each time you shudder against him.

and when you finally pull back to look at him, eyes puffy, nose red, breath uneven, he cups your face with both hands and kisses you. really kisses you. slow and deep and aching, like a promise.

like home.

you don’t know how long you stay wrapped in his arms, the sun just barely starting to rise through the blinds, painting the room in soft streaks of gold and pink. your head is on his chest, and you can feel his heart, solid and steady, under your palm like it’s trying to hold yours together too. everything still feels fragile. delicate. like if you moved too fast, it might all fall apart again.

his hand is stroking your hair, fingers so gentle it makes your eyes sting.

“can’t believe you’re here,” he murmurs, voice low and rough from sleep and crying. “thought i lost you.”

you close your eyes, squeezing his shirt in your fist. “you almost did.”

it’s honest. there’s no point in lying now. not when everything’s cracked open and raw between you, not when his scent is all around you and his arms feel more like home than anything else has in weeks.

“i was so stupid,” you whisper. “i ruined everything.”

he exhales slow, presses his lips to your forehead. “you were hurting.”

“i still am,” you admit, voice shaking. “i was trying not to feel anything at all.”

he doesn’t say anything for a second. just holds you tighter. “you think i didn’t notice?” he says quietly. “you think i didn’t see it all over your face that night?”

you curl into his chest, ashamed. “i didn’t think you’d ever want to see me again.”

“god,” he breathes, “i never stopped wanting to.”

he rolls onto his side, gently shifting so he’s facing you, hand sliding up your arm, your neck, until his fingers are cupping your jaw. his thumb traces your cheekbone, like he still doesn’t believe you’re real.

you look at him, really look, eyes soft, mouth parted, the vulnerable kind of handsome that makes your chest ache.

“i thought about you every day,” he says, and his voice cracks on it. “even when i hated myself for it. even when i wanted to stop.”

your breath hitches. “me too.”

his forehead presses to yours. “i thought about your laugh. the way you talk. the way you looked at me like i was something special, even when i didn’t know how to be.”

you close your eyes, a tear slipping out. “you are special. you’ve always been.”

his hand moves down to your waist, drawing slow shapes through the thin fabric of your shirt, his shirt. “you looked so happy online. all those stories, those parties… i wanted to believe you were okay. but i knew.”

you swallow. “i wanted to forget.”

“you took something from a stranger,” he says softly. “that night. you could’ve…”

“i didn’t care,” you say, voice small. “nothing mattered without you.”

he’s quiet for a moment. then, “you told me all of it. in the hallway. you didn’t even know it was me.”

you blink, eyes wide. “i—what?”

he nods slowly. “you were out of your mind, but you told me about how much you loved your toru. how good he was to you. how much you missed him. you cried in my arms and didn’t even realize it was me.”

your lips part, a breath caught in your throat. you remember slurring something. you remember crying. but not that.

“fuck,” you whisper. “i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry.”

his thumb catches the tear slipping down your cheek. “don’t be. it was the most honest thing i’ve heard in a long time.”

you reach for him then, hand threading into the soft white hair at his nape, pulling him closer until your noses brush, until his breath is warm against your lips. “i still love you,” you say. “i never stopped.”

he kisses you.

it’s not rushed or messy. it’s slow, deep, like he’s drinking the words from your mouth, like he needs them to breathe. his hand tilts your chin, the other anchored to your waist, and he kisses you like he’s making a promise, one he’s been aching to say for weeks.

your hands slide up under his shirt, pressing to the warm skin of his back, and he shivers at the touch. you feel him melt into you, the tension draining from his shoulders, and it makes you pull him even closer.

“toru,” you breathe into his mouth, voice soft and trembling.

he exhales your name like a prayer. kisses you again. and again.

his lips move down your jaw, to your throat, open-mouthed and reverent. every touch is careful. every breath against your skin feels like it means something.

“you’re everything to me,” he murmurs, voice shaking. “you don’t even know.”

“show me,” you whisper.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes searching, ocean-blue and so full of pain and love and want that it makes your heart clench. “i don’t want to hurt you.”

“you won’t,” you say, threading your fingers through his hair. “i trust you.”

his forehead presses to yours again, breath uneven, and then he kisses you like he’s pouring all of it into you — the fear, the sorrow, the love that never died.

you let him. let him hold you like you’re made of something precious, like he’s terrified of losing you all over again.

your hands roam his back, his shoulders, memorizing the shape of him again. and when he leans down to kiss the hollow of your throat, you gasp, tears slipping free again because it’s just so much. everything you thought you’d lost. everything you’ve missed. he pulls you into his lap, arms firm around your waist, grounding you. your noses brush. your lips meet again. and again.

and somewhere between the kisses and the whispered apologies, the soft gasps and trembling hands, something inside of you starts to heal.

not all at once. not completely.

but enough to let the light in again.

enough to believe that maybe — just maybe — you can have something good.

with him.

with your toru.

m.list !!

ong fic number two DONE YAYAYA

guys idk how to do tag lists SOMEONE TEACH ME 🙏🏼🙏🏼

omg all your sweet comments make me cry i'm so happy you like my writing 🙁❤️❤️

489 notes · View notes

gf2bellamy · 3 months ago

Note

Hi,

I came across your account not to long ago and I've been binge reading almost all of your fics, (specifically the spencer reid ones). I've giggled and kicked my feet with the biggest smile to so many of them, they're amazing.

I had an idea of someone on the team getting reader a gift either as like a congratulations or a birthday present. Doesn't really matter. Then spencer sees and is like you should have gotten her *what you decide* instead, she loves it. Then proceeds to talk about a date they went on were she was talking his head off about it. Expect the team doesn't know they are dating and he's just outing them in front of everyone without even realizing it. Then reader walks in and greets everyone and they all just stare, then proceeds to ask questions and tease.

Again love your fics, they make my day. If you do this thank you! :)))))

bracelet — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: secret relationship a/n: hiii !! thank you so so much <3 i'm so so glad you like them <3 also i love your idea and i hope you like it :)

“What is that?” Garcia’s eyes zeroed in on the expensive-looking bag in Rossi’s hand as he walked in. The bag had a logo that screamed luxury, and Garcia was already halfway out of her chair to inspect it.

Rossi held the bag up with a proud smile playing on his lips. “Late birthday gift,” he explained, setting it down on his desk . “I couldn’t make it to the dinner over the weekend, so I thought I’d make it up to her.”

Derek raised an eyebrow as he sipped from his coffee mug, leaning casually against his desk. “Looks expensive,” he remarked. “What’d you get her? A diamond-encrusted tiara?”

“It’s probably worth more than my entire apartment,” Emily muttered under her breath, glancing up from her paperwork.

Rossi ignored the jabs, his pride in the gift undiminished. “It’s a bracelet,” he said, opening the bag and carefully pulling out a velvet box.

He flipped it open to reveal a delicate silver bracelet adorned with white charms. “Silver, with these beautiful charms. Elegant, timeless, and perfect.”

Spencer, who had been quietly writing away at his desk, glanced up at the mention of the bracelet.

His brow furrowed slightly as he listened to Rossi describe the gift, his pen pausing over the report. He tilted his head, as if considering something, and before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out.

“She actually prefers the pink one,” Spencer said, as though he were stating a well-known fact.

“The one with the flower charms. Last week, when we were on our date, she wouldn’t stop talking about this little boutique we passed. They had this pink bracelet in the window, and she went on and on about how much she loved it. She even made me go inside with her to look at it.”

The room fell silent.

Garcia’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open in shock. Derek choked on his coffee, coughing loudly as he tried to recover. Emily froze, her smirk fading into a look of pure disbelief. Even Rossi blinked at Spencer, momentarily speechless.

Spencer, oblivious to the reaction he’d just caused, continued writing, his focus seemingly back on his report.

“It’s not that the silver one isn’t nice,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “But the pink one would’ve made her happier. She’s really into those kinds of details.”

Spencer wanted to buy it for you. Not even a day later, he had gone back to the boutique, determined to surprise you with the pink bracelet you’d admired so much. But when he arrived, the store clerk had given him an apologetic smile and told him it was already sold out.

Garcia was the first to break the silence. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait,” she said, holding up a hand as if to physically stop the conversation. “Did you just say date? As in, you and her? On a date?”

That’s when Spencer realized his mistake. His pen halted in his hand, mid-sentence, and he froze. His brain suddenly went completely blank.

His cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, and he stammered, “No, I meant—uhm—I—”

But it was too late. The damage was done. The entire team was staring at him now, their expressions ranging from shocked to downright gleeful.

Garcia’s eyes were practically sparkling with excitement, Derek was grinning like he’d just won the lottery, and even Rossi looked amused, his arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair.

Emily raised an eyebrow, her smirk returning full force. “Oh, this is rich,” she said, clearly enjoying Spencer’s discomfort. “Reid, are you telling us you’ve been dating this whole time and didn’t think to mention it?”

Spencer opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. His mind was racing, trying to come up with a plausible explanation.

“I—uh—it’s not—” Spencer stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He adjusted his tie nervously, his fingers fumbling with the knot. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Oh, you so meant to,” Derek interrupted, his grin widening. “Come on, pretty boy, spill. How long has this been going on? And why are you keeping it a secret? You know we’re all about love here.”

Garcia clapped her hands together, practically bouncing in her seat. “This is the best thing that’s happened all week! Spencer Reid, secretly dating our girl? I need details! How did it happen? ”

Before Spencer could respond, the elevator dinged, and you walked into the bullpen, holding a coffee cup and looking completely unaware of the chaos that had just unfolded.

“Morning, everyone!” you called out, your cheerful tone cutting through the tension in the room.

The team turned to you in unison.

You paused, glancing around at their faces. “Uh… what’s going on?” you asked, your smile faltering slightly.

Garcia was the first to pounce. “Oh, nothing,” she said, her tone dripping with faux innocence. “Just that Spencer here was very casually telling us about your date last week. You know, the one where you talked his ear off about a pink bracelet?”

Your eyes widened, and you shot a panicked look at Spencer, who was still sitting at his desk, looking like he wanted to disappear. “You told them?” you asked, your voice rising in disbelief.

Spencer blinked up at you, his face still flushed. “I didn’t mean to,” he said weakly. “It just… slipped out.”

You stared at him for a moment, your lips twitching as you tried to suppress a smile. Of all the ways for your relationship to come to light, this was definitely not what you’d expected.

“Of course it did,” you said, your tone fond rather than annoyed. You weren’t mad—how could you be?

Spencer’s accidental confession was just so him, and honestly, you’d been wondering how long the two of you could keep your relationship under wraps anyway.

The team was bound to find out eventually.

Rossi, who had been quietly observing the chaos , decided it was time to intervene. He picked up the fancy bag from his desk and walked over to you, holding it out with a flourish.

“Here,” he said. “This is for you. A late birthday gift. I was going for subtle elegance, but apparently, I should’ve gone for pink and floral.”

You took the bag, grinning at him. “Thank you, Rossi. You really didn’t have to,” you said, genuinely touched by the gesture.

Rossi shrugged, his smirk widening as he glanced over at Spencer, who was still looking like he wanted to melt into the floor. “Well, I figured it was the least I could do after missing your birthday dinner. But clearly, I’ve been outdone by Dr. Reid here. Who knew he had such a knack for romance?”

Spencer sighed. “I didn’t mean to ruin your gift,” he muttered under his breath.

“Oh, you didn’t ruin it,” Rossi said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You just completely stole the spotlight. No big deal.”

The team burst into laughter again, and even you couldn’t suppress a grin. “Don’t worry, Rossi,” you said, opening the bag and pulling out the velvet box. “I love it. Really. It’s beautiful.”

Rossi gave you a satisfied nod, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Good. At least someone appreciates my taste.”

Garcia, who had been practically vibrating with excitement, couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Okay, but can we please get back to the important part here?” she said, clapping her hands together. “You two are dating! Why were you keeping it a secret? ”

As the team continued to tease and prod, you couldn’t help but smile. Sure, your secret was out, but in a way, it was a relief.

And as you glanced at Spencer, who was finally starting to relax, you realized that maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

#criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic

562 notes · View notes

vanilleandclove · 2 months ago

Text

playoffs; jack abbot x f!trauma surgeon!reader

pittsburgh has a vibrant pub scene, being of true east coast fashion. when it’s playoff season for the steelers, that can only lead to bar brawls and broken tooths, most times. sometimes it’s bloody knuckles and misogynists. + as jack’s 49th birthday is around the corner, you book him a solo-vacation.

warnings: violence, harassment towards women, misogyny, alcohol consumption, language, comments on body image/weight by others, talks of the menstrual cycle, trauma induced infertility, postpartum depression symptoms mentioned (non-reader), age gap: reader is 33, jack is 48. word count: 4.7k notes: these are based on two different anon requests! i merged the ideas :) — anon transcript at the end. cenote = natural watering/sinkhole, i’m from the bajío lands of mexico, michoacan to be exact- my family is purely purépecha, and have only been to a cenote twice once in michoacan & cancun.

prev - next

Winter dawned onto Pittsburgh with an iron fist, near subzero temperatures, black ice, alcohol flowing into everyone to keep their blood warm, tree lighting ceremony, and most importantly, the Steelers made the playoffs.

It became a tradition for the Pitt’s senior employees to pass the grunt work off to anyone R3 and under for the night shift and have the new attendings run the emergency room, all to gather around and watch the first game of playoff season.

You and Heather stood at the bar, patiently waiting for the bartender to serve the three pitchers of beer. She knew you both were regulars, you thank the entirety of 2015 and 2021 when you had Abbot troubles and she had Robby issues, all around, it made for good conversation and excessive gratuity.

It was crowded, gross, and musty. You almost wanted to scream “Go Pac, go!” just for the shoulders of the blue collared men to stop piercing into your spine.

“I’ll get you ladies next, as well as those fancy cherries you like hon” Sara pointed at you as she walked into the back to grab the pitchers. You loved maraschino cherries, mostly because you wanted to prove you could tie the stems with your tongue to Jack who doesn’t believe you.

“I thought boarding was worse, Sara must be swamped” Heather spoke up, yelling a tad from the loud noise around you both that could drown out her words.

“I know her paycheck is fat during this time of the year” you shouted back, resting your hands onto the bar, glancing down at your engagement ring.

It's been a long year with Jack, you couldn’t wait for it to be over with just so you have the false sense of a new era starting with your lover; it made for good motivation. 10 years he’s been in your life, a decade, now that made your lower back feel as stiff as a board.

“Care to explain why we were left out of this?” Dana scooted between both of you, Bridget already occupying the extra chair you brought out for the booth. Dana’s husband was bulky and tall, like a lumberjack- pure midwest, he beelined his way to the bathroom as Dana conversed with you and Heathers

“Since when did you let the girls out to play?” you commented, giving her a hug with your outside arm, it’s been awhile since you’ve had day shift so seeing Dana was sparse.

“Honey it’s date night, my kids are fast asleep with my eldest babysitting, the girls get to come out” she responded, giving Heather a hug before making her way to the booth.

You smiled as it filled you with hope. Despite all of the years, kids, stressful jobs Dana and her husband had, they still had time for themselves.

“Can I buy you ladies a drink?” a stranger's voice peeked through, you could smell the alcohol seeping from his pores, his T.J. Watt jersey stained.

“No we’re good, thank you” you responded faster than you could think.

“Really not even one?” his voice was nasally, grosser than the fact that his hot breath was directly in your face, “Could make y’all have a good time” he got a little too close to your ear.

Jack made you carry a Swiss Army Knife- specifically the Swiss Champ on you at all times, he even gave you a 30 minute lecture on how to use it, even though you were mainly concentrating on his biceps and triceps flexing at the movement. He clipped them to your car keys, when you wore your jeans he put them on a carabiner with your keys and clipped them onto the belt loop.

“What about you darling? Want a drink with me, I know the perfect way to do jell-o shots, start at the cli-“.

“Okay, I already told you no, just go dude” you cut him off, sensing Heather’s uncomfortably from behind you, “Seriously you reek” you didn’t care for the fact that he towered over you, if he was bulky and the fist he started to make could land you in a worst spot than Dana in August.

“You have no say for your friend missy” he pressed, anchoring his next to be at eye level to you. In your peripheral, you saw Jack straighten his back, sticking one leg out of the booth, ready for anything if you needed him. “Who knows, maybe I could take both of you”.

You made sure Heather was behind you, beginning to shield her with your arm slightly just so he wouldn’t fully register. “I bet your pussy is tight, soaking from all the attention you’re getting”.

Within seconds you clocked his jaw, the act leading him to push you by the chest into Heather hard, getting the wind knocked into. Jack and Robby immediately got up and made their way in between you, just before you pounced onto him to throw another punch directly to his nose, the punch only making him more angry to the point where the punch that was supposed to land on your abdomen missed as Robby shoved him and led the punch to land directly on Jack’s arm that shielded your chest.

You felt the blow nonetheless, cushioned, you still heard a groan leave Jack’s mouth. Just as Jaime, the bouncer, put the man in a citizen's arrest and quickly threw him out, Sara didn’t charge you for the pitchers or cherries, even threw in espresso martinis for you and the girls.

You all sat around the booth, Bridget in the chair, watching the Steelers versus the Packers, it was barely the second quarter. “How’s your arm?” you nudged your elbow lightly into Jack’s waist as his arm draped over your shoulders, holding your free hand and playing with your engagement ring.

“It’s fine, nice punch” Jack complimented, gaining a peck from you in response, “What even happened?”.

“You don’t wanna know” you responded, his eyes not leaving yours. He took your word for it even if it did bother him of not knowing.

“So Rambo, I guess we should add Rocky onto your list of nicknames” Robby joked, his arm draped around Heather’s shoulder.

You chuckled, taking a sip of Jack’s beer that you swore always tasted better, “I ain’t from Philly Robby” you deadpanned sarcastically.

“What about Rocky Marciano? He's a pure Masshole” Dana’s husband budded in smoothly.

You nodded, “Brockton ain’t Boston” you shrugged, refusing to have another nickname of a Sylvester Stallone character, “On the other hand, we could go has Rocky and Adrian for Halloween next year” you added looking at Jack.

“I’m not putting on a red beret”.

“You’re breaking my heart Adrian” you feigned a Stallone voice only for Jack to shut you up with a kiss.

“Do you guys have a date set?” Bridget popped the question everyone was dying to ask for the past two months since he proposed in October- after three back to back surgeries and while you were eating pizza from the same place your old apartment was next to.

You half-loathed the memory as your hair was greasy and disheveled, the makeup you had on was haphazardly wiped off with the spare makeup wipes you left in your glove compartment, your reading glasses on, and you had just pounded down a Dr. Pepper and needed to burp.

“Not yet, I’d get married to her in the damn courthouse tomorrow but this one’s insistent on a ‘longer engagement’” he mimicked you.

You sighed, “I want to get married in Nantucket- or Rhode Island, heaven forbid I want both our families there except his brother” you breathed the last part.

“What’s wrong with Abbot’s brother?” Heather inquired, Dana nodding as she wanted to know as well.

“You wanna tell them about Thanksgiving or do I?” you pressed, looking back to Jack.

He exhaled, “My brother made a comment on her ass- told her she must be pregnant ‘cuz her hips were wider than normal”.

“Not just that!” you added on, “He told Jack’s mom only for her to touch my stomach and ask if it was a boy or girl, it was a complete hazing ritual!” you laughed as you recalled the memory.

You did take a pregnancy test that night, only for it to be negative. Jack did assure you it’s probably just your ovulation coming, he had a bad- well good habit of knowing your cycle just by your body.

During follicular, your nipples would darken, skin become a bit firmer than usual and you felt at ease from the in between of your period to ovulation. Luteal, especially the few days leading up to your period, you craved salt, and sex- a mix of the two and you’d have him laying down as you sucked him dry, you were insatiable during the time, your breasts heavier. Your period came during the night most times, so you’d wear a pad just in case the day before, sometimes you’d beat the hormones and start first thing in the morning, he noticed your hair would dry faster after the shower and you’d sleep more peacefully with his hand right onto your bare lower stomach. Ovulation sent him on a frenzy, truth be told he didn’t care about where in your cycle you were, if you wanted him, you had him. Your breasts were fuller, you felt more energized and sure enough, your hips widened.

“Yikes” Robby broke the silence as they all digested what was told, “So, Nantucket?”.

“He wants Martha’s Vineyard but even for both of our salaries and older families, all that accommodation may just send us straight to the gutter” you elaborated, “Should’ve gotten married when I was 30 and we weren’t on the verge of a recession” you joked.

“Just for that, no wedding ‘til you’re forty”.

“Speaking of big birthdays, what y'all doing for your 50th?” Dana smiled and nodded towards Jack.

“Nasty sex and barbecue?” you joked, Jack pointed at you just as he was about to speak up.

“And that is why I’m marrying her” Jack laughed, “It’s in a year, we’ll figure it out”.

The Steelers ending up advancing in the playoffs, you did eventually prove to Jack the cherry tie, only under a different roof. The next day, you all were swamped during the night shift as it approached 10 pm.

You couldn’t lie, the engagement led you to be far more touchy. At any given moment, you wanted your hands on Jack.

“40 year old male, TMGSW, he was stable upon arrival but during transport he kept crashing, gave him 50 of fent” the EMT ran over, it was an odd night to be running the trauma rooms.

Jack loved seeing you work, technically, you were his boss after Greene handed over the trauma department to you. He got a kick out of it as he claimed it made him a trophy husband.

As the EMTs left, you and Ellis took over as you did an exam, only to realize his blood wasn’t circulating to his legs. “Blood flows unstable, can you call and see if there’s an OR available?”.

“They’re all filled, three with general, four with peds, I think a couple are ortho” an intern responded, only gaining a ‘tsk from you. Gloria gave a briefing to the surgical department earlier this week on maintenance in the operating rooms, leading for several of them to be closed.

“Fuck it, gown me, authorized personnel only, Parker you with me on this?” you shook your head.

“Want me to get Abbot?” she clarified as the nurses gowned and gloved both of you.

“No- I need all the interns and med students to go to Doctor Abbot or Bridget, they’ll place you on a different case” you announced, clearing the room. “Have you ever seen a thoracotomy?” you asked.

“You and Abbot did one together my intern year,” Parker responded.

“Good, so you know I’m not bullshitting” you replied, “I need a surgical tray and rib spreader”.

It took 30 minutes for you and Parker to complete the patient’s thoracotomy, never before have you seen her that intrigued. She held a heart in her hands- a beating heart.

“Excellent work Doctor Ellis” you told her, removed your gown and gloves as you sent the man to the ICU for observation and comfortability, you forced them to give him a bed.

“I don’t know who’s more badass, you or Abbot”.

“He’s got the combat medic thing to bring to the table, I have the magic hands” you joked, dismissing her to do her own work as you met up with Jack at the nurse’s station.

“Your future wife just did a thoracotomy successfully with Ellis” you lightly bragged, your hand finding its way to his bicep, giving it a squeeze. Jack smirked, removing his eyes from the charts.

“You know our shift isn’t over until 7 right?” he teased.

“I’m on an adrenaline high, sorry for being so needy for my insanely sexy fiance” you breathed, only to hear the beloved voice of none other than Myrna.

“I hear congratulations are in order for the happy couple!” you both haven't seen Myrna since before the engagement, she usually spends her times with the day shift.

“Not married yet Myrna, he’s still all yours” you responded to her, your hand finding itself resting on his forearm as he continued to chart.

“Honey, lock him down, there’s patients all over the place ready to take him” she smiled at you, “If you guys have a daughter what will her name be?”.

“Haven’t decided yet Myrna” Jack intervened, “Might just have to get those baby name books from the gift shop” he looked into your eyes as he said the last part.

Myrna wheeled off, leaving you two to yourselves. Jack was still doing yours and his charts which he seldomly enjoyed, took the heat off him while it could. Your hand caressed up and down his forearm, a bruise was forming on where the punch landed.

“How’s the arm baby?” you whispered to him.

“Fine, a little sore, nothing I haven’t felt” he told you, “You know you’ve gotten exceptionally clingy” he added, only for you to remove your hand when you noticed, “It’s not a bad thing, the amount of years I resisted, I’m surprised I haven’t taken you in a spare room”.

“I don’t know… It just feels good” you confessed, “You’re all mine and I got something tangible to prove it”.

“Me being around all the time wasn’t tangible enough? Or the nurses gossiping about our dirty talk that’s enough for a HR complaint if this department was anyway normal?” he quirked a brow.

“Give me your children and we’ll have another tangible thing” you teased.

“Playing with fire Doctor L/n” he responded.

“Oh you love it Doctor Abbot”.

Since August you and Jack had some instances where you thought you were pregnant, ever since Heather told you about her miscarriage, you refused to see a fertility doctor until you’ve run out of every possible option. However, your gynecologist said you were in good shape fertility wise, she made the claim that the more you expect it, the less chance it’ll happen.

Nevertheless, Jack got his labs done, perfectly normal, if anything, his sperm count was high. His therapist was shocked when he brought it up last session, thinking the trauma of his job and past were enough to shock his nerves and stunt fertility. Maybe it was all just timing.

Until Jack got even more panels done, only to reveal that his therapist was correct, he was the problem. Not having the heart to tell you, he saved it for a better day to come, hoping it was all temporary.

The shift continued on, bar brawls and black ice, in true Pittsburgh fashion during football season. He drove you both home, seeing you dozed off in the passenger seat, he loved the days he worked with you.

Jack enjoyed carrying you, though his back would hate him for it later, came with the job description. Your bags on both sides of him and you asleep in his arms as he made his way to the bedroom.

You groaned upon him sitting you down on the living chair. Remembering the one nonnegotiable rule.

Never take work to bed- physically and metaphorically speaking. He took your scrubs off, almost ready to give you a sponge bath because you gained clarity and consciousness. You did the rest, after extensive nights, you both settled for showering together, he washed you, you washed him. He gripped onto the support bar and you, it was a routine. He loved it. Gave him a chance to feel you all alone, he loved sex with you, just as much as he loved being nonsexually intimate with you.

The man would cut your toenails if asked, when you get sick once a year he’d gladly discard the tissues filled with snot, and didn't mind a single thing about living life with you.

As he brushed his teeth while sitting on the stool, you took it upon yourself to massage his shoulders.

“You know when you get lab work done it gets sent to my work email?” you brought up, kneading the knots in his shoulders as your comment made him anxious. He chose to remain silent and you understood, “Baby” you honestly didn't know about the labwork until you had to contact a patient to see if she could come in for a follow up.

He spat out the toothpaste, feeling your sensitivity towards him, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath before finally choosing to speak. “It could be temporary, maybe I just need to lower my stress levels”.

You looked at him through the mirror before crouching down to be at eye level with him in your eyes, staring into his eyes. “You know I love you regardless of if we have kids or not” you told him, “Don’t beat up yourself over things that are minuscule”.

“I want them just as much as you do” Jack sighed, resting his forehead on yours, gripping the nape of your neck, “I have an appointment on Monday, gonna see what’s going on with me”.

You sighed, “Maybe it’s a sign for an extended vacation” you hinted, “Get away for a few weeks, come back home to me…”.

“Like I’d go anywhere without you” he scoffed, only to realize the look on your face was sure “You’re not serious are you?”.

“Babe, we're together 24/7, it’s good to have your own time. Away from sperm tests, OB-GYNEs all up in there, fuck and work, Jack Abbot you’re not a soldier anymore sir” you told him, lightly joking, “For the past month you’ve been working on adrenaline-infused autopilot. I love you, but you can rest sometimes you know?”.

When you were met with silence you decided to speak up again, handing him an envelope with a plane ticket to Tulum that you hid in your gym bag. “Take a break, relax. At least sometime in the near future, I’m not going anywhere- hell I might just have Heather fill in for you so I don’t sleep alone”

“Baby..” he opened the envelope, “Weren’t we saving this trip for Fourth of July?”.

“Already cleared it all with Bridget and Dana, I’m taking your caseload” you shrugged, you had the idea of him going on a vacation alone since last year, knowing he needed it. “You leave in a week from today” you smiled at him as relief washed over him, “It’s only for a week but when you get back maybe you and Robby can have something together, regain your groove”.

“Honey, I have my groove” he nodded, “I can’t go to Tulum without you”.

“Eh, we’ll do Cancun during the summer, a couple weeks, go exploring” you shrugged, “Have poolside sex in the private pool, fuck me proper” you whispered in his ear. “Oh! And the food”.

“You have quite the dirty mouth”.

“I wonder who influenced me”.

Truth of the matter was, you wanted to surprise him for his birthday. Wanted to throw a bigger get together than what you both originally planned and the only way Jack wouldn’t be at home or in Pittsburgh is if you were both on vacation or his brother convinced him to spend more than 2 hours with him.

“That 400k a year really does work wonders” he commented, “You can’t just go with me?”.

“Then it wouldn’t be alone time would it?” you told him, helping him get up from the stool holding him secured by the elbow. “Let me do this for you”.

He nodded, “You sure you can handle both our caseloads though?” letting you lead the way to the bed. “It’s just a huge ask hon”.

“Nothing I haven’t had before” you shrugged, letting him sit on the edge of the bed, “Don’t worry about baby” you noticed his sense of worry, “Plus when you get back, birthday sex”

“Oh god” he groaned, smiled from the thought but also realized he will be 66 at the kid’s graduation if you guys have a kid now after doing the math.

But that would certainly be a miracle.

“49 isn’t that big of a deal” he spoke up, placing you between his leg and stump, planting kisses on your lotioned stomach.

“It is with the year we had” you ran your fingers through his grey curls. Hands never leaving him. You weren't wrong, with Pitfest and your near breakup, this past Halloween when you got alcohol poisoning after a stressful week, the week after Thanksgiving when Jack had inconsoble back pain from stress and work. Everything positive was a big deal.

The rest of the week passed, you had dropped Jack off at the airport Tuesday night, telling him to text you when he made it to Denver for his layover. He didn’t wanna leave you, but you knew it would be best for his own sanity.

It was an interesting week without Jack. He got hooked on facetiming you every single night, sometimes twice a day, before and after he showered. Most of the time you were swamped at work, trying to not show your stress visibly. He knew it beyond the screen, could see the stress lines form between your brows, the lack of sleep prevalent under your eyes.

“Baby just go home” he sighed, he knew Gloria was on your ass the entire week and since you were already working overtime- 2 hours to be exact, the surgical department had separate scheduling most days. The logical decision would be to book it. Jack was awake bright and early for a tour in the cenotes of Tulum, it was 7:30 for you and 6:30 for him.

You nodded, holding your phone towards the ceiling as you talked to your patient Sadie, she came in with a kitchen knife lodged in her wrist. She was a new mom and the sleep deprivation and postpartum only led to her lack of concentration while cooking.

“Babe, I’ll call you back when I get home, gotta check up on my new mom” you told him, he looked calm and tanned through the phone. Couldn’t deny your mind, your future husband looked perfect. He understood you better than anyone, understood your job and life.

“Okay, stay safe, I love you” he told you over the phone, he knew you were tired to the point where it didn’t register and you just hung up, your brain on autopilot.

“Hey hon, everything okay? Want me to get you anything? Any questions?” You asked lightly, checking her I.V. and antibiotics.

“Do you know when I’m getting discharged? My sister’s at home but she’s leaving at 6:50 before my husband gets off work” she muttered, her throat dry from the intubation tube during surgery.

“The knife was poking near your ulnar artery, a centimeter closer, you’d be in grave danger in a matter of minutes. Your body took a considerable amount of an adrenaline boost that led your blood pressure to skyrocket and your heart to go into what we call a silent heart attack” you told her, “Thankfully we caught it as it occurred and were able to reverse any damage but two operations in less than 24 hours- especially a strenuous one in the heart, I morally and medically can’t discharge you for at least two days” you looked at her in the eye, “I’m going to ask Bridget, my charge nurse, to transfer you to the post-op wing, it’s a bigger room and more comfortable- if not, I’ll go there myself to get you a bed”.

“You’re a godsend” she sighed, her eyes swelling up with tears, “Do you have one?”.

“Hm?”.

“A baby” she clarified.

“Oh no- not yet” you smiled at her, standing at the edge of her bed.

“You’re going to be an amazing mother” she complimented.

“Thank you” you breathed, “Day shift staff will be coming in a few minutes. I’ll ask my resident Doctor Mohan to check up on you, she’s a really smart and kind person, very easy to talk to” you smiled back at her. You needed a coffee, swearing you would pass out behind the wheel.

It took a few minutes while you were back at the computer ready to clock out to realize you hung up on Jack without saying “I love you”. That was enough for you to start crying at the computer, tired and overwhelmed, and just in time for Gloria and Robby to walk up to you, greeting you with a good morning.

“You okay Rocky?” Robby quirked a brow, placing a coffee cup right next to you.

“Doctor L/n, go home, you’re almost 3 hours overtime” Gloria spoke up, earning a concerned look from Dana, Heather, Robby, and Samira.

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Whitaker blurted, the poor kid, heart in the right place except his shift was going to start in 5 minutes.

“Nah it’s okay kid, I’m fine” you wiped your tears, they couldn’t tell if your eyes were bloodshot from the tears or lack of sleep.

“I’m going to ask if Emery can fill in for your surgical cases, Jamie can take Jack’s workload” Dana told you, “Now get the hell out of here before we call your union rep”.

You chuckled, getting your bag from the corner of the desk, letting your hair down for the first time in hours. “Doctor Mohan, I have a new mom, accidentally stabbed herself with a kitchen knife- the adrenaline triggered her BP to boost and she had an MI while on the table. She’s in South 3, I told her you’d be the perfect doctor to talk to when I clock out. Please check up on her?” you spoke to her as you walked off.

“No problem!”.

You made your way to Jack’s truck in the parking lot, choosing his truck over your car because it smelt like him all over.

He'll be back soon; you mumble to yourself. Made all the exhaustion and stress feel a little bit tolerable.

dividers by @cafekitsune

anon #1: Jack Abbot x fem reader. Everyone at the Pitt is having drinks at some bar after the shift. Until some assholes got touchy and angry when one of the girls and she just defended them despite having the boys over too. Jack only observe since he knows his gf can handle it. He would interfere when things got out of hand. Badass gf, asshole, violence. Do however you want to. Thanks!!! :)))

anon #2: Hey!! Love all your fic for Jack Abbot❤️❤️ Can I request Jack Abbot x fem reader? Whoever loves language is touched and Jack just accepts the fact that she is. Especially when she visits the Pitt, she would be close to him, hold his hand/arm/back/every where she could touch and Jack just let her despite everyone who knew him, that he's never letting anyone touch him like that. Just something cute, soft, kisses, suggestive. Thanks!!! :)))

#jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot smut #jack abbot angst #the pitt #michael robinavitch #the pitt x reader #x reader #shawn hatosy #vanilleandclove

910 notes · View notes

lover-of-mine · 4 months ago

Text

Okay, welcome to Anna writes a framing meta for the first time in who knows how long. This got long as hell, so strap in.

Okay, first up, first buddie scene of the episode, the locker room, at no point you can see both of their faces clearly at the same time, either one of the faces is out of focus or they have their backs to the camera (tiny images for me to stay within the image limit, but you should be able to zoom in).

And if we get a wide shot, they have something separating them in the frame.

The not allowing the camera to focus on both of them really works to highlight how they're not seeing eye to eye, and helps the scene feel awkward because they are obscuring their real feelings, Buck doesn't Eddie to move and Eddie doesn't want to move, but they are both trying to act excited about it. And the physical divider between them highlights the way the move is getting between them. Literally. The show did this the other 2 times they fought. If something really is getting between them, we end up getting a physical display of it.

And before you get all "oh but the show is not that deep" on me.

Okay, moving on, something very interesting that I've seem a bunch of people point out is this shot specifically, they are very close, some would say within kissing distance *wink*, but the glass is between them, but the lafd logo is only obscuring Buck's face.

Since the logo is backward when we look at if from inside the locker room, it almost makes it seem like the only thing stopping them is Eddie not being in LA with Buck.

At the house showing, there's always a few steps between them, at least, but the way Buck starts the sabotage by peaking over Eddie's shoulder, to fully stepping in front of him to the point that the camera stops focusing on Eddie is the fun part here for me.

Because that's when Buck fully takes over, the meth lab story is the most intentional part of the sabotage, at least in my opinion, and the way Buck takes over when he sees someone he thought would actually go for it, the little "man, I thought we had her" before Eddie calls him out gives that impression, it really shows the way Buck escalates inside his own feelings. It also highlights the way the scene is in Buck's pov. It's pretty obvious when we consider the way we see Buck talking to the potential renters alone, but we only hear Eddie talking to them alone.

Not really relevant here but love that Buck is the only person we ever saw in that back door. New angle of the Diaz kitchen too.

Love that painting of waves behind Buck, both for the symbolism of the way this is about to crash into him and his relationship with water and life-changing stuff, the tsunami, the well, the lightning, y'all know what I mean.

Okay, before I move on I need to take a detour to fully explain why these next two scenes had me going fucking insane.

Oliver is a pretty big guy, right? He's the tallest main, he is built like a fridge, he is a person who will usually be the biggest person in the room. That ends up giving Buck the power. So when Buck is emotionally distressed, they usually exaggerate that. Like when he is yelling at his parents and everyone is sitting down but him, or when he's standing up when telling everyone about Daniel, when he's sitting on the stairs talking to Maddie about being the one who's always left behind, or how they gave Buck the literal high ground when he's waiting for Taylor so they can breakup.

There's also the way that Buck likes to sit on top of stuff that will make him taller, the counter, the top the firetruck.

They play with that a lot, Maddie conversations when she's actually getting through to him tend to have both of them sitting down, since Jennifer is that much smaller, or talks with Bobby have them both standing up since Peter is the closest in height to Oliver.

But since Oliver is really tall, Buck doesn't look up at people a lot. It usually happens with love interests in emotionally heavy scenes that, like the breakup with Ali, when he tells Taylor he cheated, the breakup with Tommy. There are a few scenes with Bobby and Maddie.

And then there's Eddie.

The gym scene and the 204 scene, well, 201 Buck is about to get up and puff out his chest, try to look as big as possible, so it doesn't count in this, and 204 is being there for Eddie, but the rest he's looking for guidance. Something I used to talk about a lot is that Buck's admiration of Eddie clouds his judgment, it forces him to this space of following Eddie's lead, it put him in a position where he was literally looking up at Eddie when he needs reassurance or validation. Which is not really good for healthy relationship, it would make Buck bend to what Eddie thinks it's best and that's not good in the long run in a romantic relationship. The conversations they had about Buck's feelings, they were on different levels in the frame, and Eddie was always higher, and Buck is putting Eddie in a space where he needs reassure him. Funny enough, if they are talking about Eddie's feelings, they are usually both sitting down, so they are equalized there.

They broke that pattern with the coming out scene. In fact they broke it so hard they have Eddie looking up at Buck while wanting Buck to reassure him that hes not being unreasonable and he can hide in the loft.

But they are both sitting down for the part of the conversation that is about Buck, and Buck needs reassurance from Eddie there, but he is not looking at Eddie for guidance, he’s looking at Eddie for acceptance. And he would only get that if they were on the same level. So monumental moment. (read more about my freakout about the coming out scene here)

Now that we are all caught up, the station scenes, they're unleveled again.

In fact, Buck is so low he's on the fucking floor. But he's not looking up because he needs guidance or reassurance or because he thinks Eddie has the answers, he's on the floor because he's about to throw a low blow. He's being unfair and he knows it.

It is about Eddie having power over Buck, but it is also about how at that moment Buck doesn't want to accept that, he wants to land a punch that's gonna put Eddie on the floor with him.

He doesn't start the first scene on the floor, but he is on the floor once he tells everyone about the move.

And he is sitting on the floor when he says the "I don't need you either" so he is physically as low as he can be as he goes for the hit that's gonna hurt Eddie as much as he's hurting.

That had me SALIVATING. Buddie will never work if they keep assuming they can read each other's minds, it is why I was so adamant about the need of another divorce era, why that's the core of half the fics I write, they need to talk when they are hurting. And this was messy, they're being intentionally hurtfull but it all ends up equalizing in the biggest show of how they have the it's you and me vs the problem not you vs me down to an art if you just let them talk.

But moving on, at the end, when he realizes that he is succeeding in hurting Eddie but it's not gonna make feel any better, they're on the same level.

Side note, they tend to be on the same level when they are talking about them. (Yes, I'm counting the cemetery scene, this convoluted breakup that went nowhere is about their relationship, I don't care).

And that obviously leads up to the final buddie scene of the episode.

Just to get this out of the way, they are positioned the same way they were when Eddie tells Buck to leave the showing, but from the other side, because now we're on Eddie's pov.

The giveaways from that for me is the fact that the house is back to the usual warm lighting, and we are learning the information with Eddie, in contrast to the cold lighting and the way we learn the information with Buck in 808.

So our running joke to put a light on Buck if we ever got a scene from Eddie's pov? Yeah.

The 2 lamps almost give Buck a glowy aura.

Anyway, the thing with this scene is the way there's a lot of space between them at first, at some point Eddie is even holding onto the door and Buck even starts adding more space, the couch between them is a nice touch too.

And Eddie keeps his distance while they're fighting, up until when the crew arives and he steps back closer to Buck. It's not really necessary, they could walk around him the same way Buck did to get in the house.

Through the whole thing, Buck is in the same place he in the center of the room.

And then Eddie is the one to close the space, because even when Eddie is going in for the hug, Buck is not moving. Eddie has full control of the movement with them even though he was the only one who didn't have the full information.

And it's fun because there are 2 other scenes like that, where one of them is stationary and the other is doing all the movement, but while here Buck is letting Eddie make the choice to come to him, the other one Buck is forcing Eddie to let him in. Coincidentally (read absolutely intentionally), it's the other times they are clearing the air, 306 talk at the station and 309 kitchen talk. In both scenes Eddie is in a spot and Buck is doing all the moving closer.

And I think that indicates a lot of the way their relationship grew since s3, it's almost exemplifying the way Buck knows he doesn't need to force his way in anymore, that that door is already open and he can let Eddie come to him.

Well, I guess he already did in season 5 breaking the door down, but like Eddie says, Buck doesn't to break the door down, he wants to let Eddie open it. If he lets Eddie know he's there, Eddie will make the choice to let him in. And it is what happened. Eddie was upset because he thought he couldn't count on Buck and not being able to count on him always get Eddie off balance, it's why Buck fully disarms him telling him about renting the house, he was ready for anger but Buck just reminded him that he's got him. And I think that's beautiful.

This adds nothing to nothing but I need to say that "if you need to be pissed off at me to make it easier for you then be pissed off" most romantic thing I've ever seen. "Be mad at me if you have to, but stop faking it", you don't need to pretend with me on crack, had me screaming crying throwing up.

Some random things to point out, with the 2 fist bumps and the hug this is the episode they touched intentionally and without of them being mortal danger the most.

Also, the last scene has the same color pallete of the coming out scene.

In the still, the blue of Buck's jacket looked a bit too light, but when I put them side by side, that's Buck's blue. But the fit is a bit too big and the black shirt and the black color offset that. There's also the way that in 809 both of them are in the warm background. The yellow elements aren't that intense, but Buck mismatching is making me 👀 because while Buck is pulling the ultimate grand gesture as a clinger can do by doing that thing that will allow Eddie to leave him, I don't think living in that house alone is going to be easy for Buck. And Eddie stays in the warm background with a black shirt. So yeah, that's fun. Buck is in his color but in the wrong fit, Eddie is just no color at all yet but it keeps looming behind him.

This is long as fuck already and I just hit the image limit so I will shut up now, but I'll be back at some point about colors. As always, if you read this I love you.

#ooof #if you read this your a warrior okasaoksas #911 #911 spoilers #buddie #911 meta

528 notes · View notes

citrustan · 11 days ago

Text

killah (jjk) [3]

pairing: managing partner (lawyer)!jungkook x spoiled brat!reader x a sprinkle of senior partner redacted

genre: strangers/enemies to ?? idk bec you irk him, angst, smut, like slight fluff

warnings: please read 2 before proceeding further. two new characters are introduced (really it's just one if you've been paying attention though,) reader is still a lil selfish and somin and logan are enablers, jungkook is still very much a taken man, and he has some questionable thoughts, emotional cheating, jealousy, tiny bit of smut. this one's a lot longee than i initially planned lol soz :] drabble, my ass

You're frustrated. Out of ideas.

Jeon Jungkook was impossible to get to. You couldn't just keep delivering lunch to Logan's office in hopes of somehow seeing Jungkook. And you certainly couldn't keep 'accidentally' showing up on his floor.

You zone out, staring at the glow in the dar stickers on your friends ceiling. You needed a better plan.

Something cold on your forehead distracts you. An ice pack.

"You look tense. Relax your brows," Somin coos. "Now, tell mama what's been on your mind lately." She pats your thigh excitedly.

"Ughhsfsh..." You flip over and bury your face in her pillow, "Don't ask..."

Paying you no mind, she continues, "You haven't come to any of my events. People think we've got drama, it's affecting my social standing. You know I need you. People donate when they see you donate."

You peek at her from the corner of your eye, "It's too complicated."

She impatiently waits for you to say more.

"Is everything OK? With Logan and the parents?" She asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, yeah, goodness. That's not it, everyone's fine. Businesses are good. Money's pouring in, I keep spending." You jump up, debating on just revealing everything to her.

You've been friends for years now. Somin has known you throughout all your phases and has loved you always. Like truly loved you. Honestly, she's family at this point. She's like... Logan level. Your twin.

Her intrest peaks, "So what's going on? Seriously. I feel like we haven't talked in forever."

Yet you're reluctant to tell her about Jungkook. But the fact that you drove to her place to whine and frown meant something. You needed help.

Specifically, her help.

By that, you meant you wanted ideas from her to get closer to Jeon Jungkook. Not criticism or her insight on what you're doing.

If Jeon Jungkook doesn't like being pursued by you, he'll say that. And you'll back off.

Painstakingly, you roll off her bed, and plop yourself on her bean bag.

You begin, "There's this man..." - Her eyes widen, "Wait, pause."

Somin had been waiting a long time to hear these words. Had you finally fallen for someone?

You oblige, giving her no clues on the mood of your confession.

"Oh, but wait, which way are we headed towards, like homicide or...?" Somin squints, focusing her thoughts on you don't know what.

Huh?

Vehemently shaking your head, you deny, "What? No. Or, it's or."

You're almost nervous.

"Just let me finish." You extend a pinky towards her, "And promise me you won't speak until I'm done. Nor will you try to discourage me."

She blinks.

Then adding, "I mean, I know you won't but just in case you think of it." You lean closer to her.

She simply stares at your doll-like expression. You had forced your eyes open wider and lips in a smaller pout.

What the hell had you done?

Finally linking her pinky with yours, she sighs, "I promise..."

Still keeping your hands connected, you begin to narrate the recent events of your life.

You describe the day you first met Jungkook, how his girlfriend was the one to introduce you. The lunch thing, the belly button piercing incident. And how you really, really wanted him to destroy you(r pussy.)

A hint of recognition flashes on Somin's face when you mention Hyewon.

Somin just nods for a while. And you allow it. It's a lot to take in.

Jeon Jungkook wasn't some rando.

You wanted to fuck the only man who made managing partner at the country's most cutthroat firm before 30, the youngest self-made millionaire, but more importantly, someone's boyfriend.

Moreover, she has heard through the grapevine that Hyewon and Jungkook are secretly engaged. There isn't much credibility to that source but still fishy.

She knows Kang Hyewon. Just socially though.

Hyewon's a corporate lawyer as well. She's one of those women who quietly climbed up the corporate ladder at Min & Partners. Nothing flashy, but definitely respectable and impressive.

She's also from Jungkook's alma mater. Only a year younger to him. That's probably how they met. Somin doesn't remember.

But she knows people like Hyewon.

Kang Hyewon's the kind of person who has every detail of their lives planned to a T. She likes logic, plays it safe. She's the opposite of you in every way.

Neither Jungkook nor Hyewon come from affluent families (such as yourself or Somin) but they've certainly made space for themselves at the table.

Somin just doesn't want you to get hurt. (Instead be the one doing all the hurting. She supports your rights and wrongs.)

You're beginning to get more nervous when you don't hear anything back from your best friend, then she finally breaks the silence--- "Apply for a job at J, K & K."

Woah.

You stare at her in amazement. You could never have come up with such a brilliant plan.

A smile spreads across your face, "Baby, you're a genius."

Somin smiles back bashfully in response.

Oh, but, only one problem. How...?

And then your smile dims. The thought probably just hit Somin too because you watch her face drop at the same time.

Let alone a job, but how in the world were you even going to get an interview with them?

They only accept students from the top 15 universities with a near perfect GPA, and a proper resume.

You got the first box checked but your college GPA could be considered a little.... lacking? And your resume...

Was backpacking through Europe (read: flying private and living in the highest rated hotels) an acceptable experience?

You had also been present at all the fashion weeks that have taken place till date. That's certainly something, right?

And you sew.

Hm.

Somin could probably get into J, K & K though. She's brainy. Not a law student, but she could probably clear the bar in one attempt.

"Wait, pause." Somin demands your attention once again. You look at her with hopeful eyes.

"All you need is an excuse to be in the building. You can just 'run into him' whenever he comes in and leaves for lunch and shit." She stares at you with a kind of a 'duh' expression.

You wait for her to explain.

"_____, Logan. Ask your brother to get you a job, he'd never deny you."

Ohhh.

Ohhhh, this was good. And very doable.

Although, you don't know what you could possibly do at a funds office or whatever it is that Logan runs.

But you slowly nod. Yes.

"Yeah... That'll work..." You trail off, already planning your outfits to work. Your office siren era, teehee.

Eeeep, you're so excited!!

"I can't wait!!!" You squeal, jumping up.

Somin moves her pillows aside and makes space for you in her bed.

"I wanna, like, ride his shoe," you think out loud, "Somin, he's so hot. I want him to pretzel me."

Somin giggles but internally rolls her eyes and secretly prays you never 'fall' for anyone she's dating.

And that gets her thinking.

What if shit goes sideways?

You don't think so Somin had to do all the thinking for you. But she could also help you think of other possibilities.

Suddenly she speaks, "Devil's advocate."

You scrunch your brows, confused.

"What about Hyewon?"

You tilt your head to your side, "What about her?"

Somin scoffs, "_____, that's his girlfriend. Do you think he'd just drop her for you? She's.... More like him. As compared to you." She doesn't explain.

You didn't necessarily want him to drop her. You just wanted him to like... take you too.

"What do you mean? You know I hate it when you speak in clues." You whine.

"She's... Hyewon's a lawyer too. They've been dating for nearly a year now. Went to the same uni. Did exceptionally well there too, both were valedictorians. And they have a similar background. It's like... Both of them kinda started from the bottom and built themselves up," she pauses to take a breath. "They're not like us, baby."

She had to throw that 'baby' in otherwise you'd have started tearing up.

Then she points out, "Also, aren't you worried about this getting back to your mother?"

Ok, that, you really weren't. Your mother doesn't try to control you anymore. Because she finally learnt her lesson. She has accepted her destiny to have someone like you in her life because, before you, her life had been way too easy.

Something had to mix it up. You were it for her.

Don't get me wrong, she still loves you endlessly. But she had tried too hard to chain you down, and that didn't do anyone any good. So now, she just let's you be. And you stay out of trouble.

Although... Getting with Jungkook certainly will stir shit up if it reaches literally anyone else.

The more you think about the ramifications of this affair you want to pursue, the more you doubt yourself.

Would Jungkook even want you? I mean, you're pretty and stuff but what if he's into those intellectual, philosophical, scientifical types??

Ugh, screw the devil's advocate.

"My mom won't care. None of this affects her businesses. People will always need places to work in and stay. I think I'm ok." You explain yourself.

Somin nods slowly, "And... What about Hyewon? She always asks me about you."

Wait, what?

Confused, you wonder, "You know her like that?"

Your friend looks at you, partially offended, "Uh, yeah, I know everyone."

That she did.

You nod, "Um...well, I dunno. I don't know her like that. We've met like twice?" You try to think if you've ever had a conversation with her.

You're a few years younger so it really wasn't likely that you two come in contact often enough for her to actually ask your best friend about you. Honestly, it's creepy.

But what you're doing is creepier so who are you to judge?

You're used to having fans for no real reason.

No, seriously, you have a decent fan following. They tag you in their edits and memes. And they get so excited when you acknowledge them. It's cute. You love making people happy like that.

Oh, how blessed you are... :)

All you needed to do was beg Logan for a job. You couldn't believe you were actually going through with this.

"Please, please, please, please, please," you cry, pausing only to take a breather.

Logan doesn't look like he's going to give in easy.

You've got to amp it up. "PLEASE. I'll work, I swear. I'll really work hard. I'll tidy up and do the admin duties. I'll get you food, and make meetings and stuff."

You should've looked up more businessy terms.

Logan pinches the bridge of his nose, like he’s praying for strength, "You can't make meetings, _____."

Was that a partial yes?

You blink at him, hopeful. "Ok, I won't. Now is that a yes?"

"It's a no," he says immediately, flat. "Absolutely not."

"Why not?" You whine, flopping dramatically onto the couch like you're in a Disney movie. "You’re always going on about me needing to learn responsibility. This is me. Learning. Responsibility." You gesture with your arms.

He stares at you for a long time. "You don’t even know what my company does."

Wait, it's actually his company? Why are you always out of the loop?

"I do!" You insist. "You do… hedge stuff. And funds. You’re like a finance bro but riskier."

Logan just squints and mutters something under his breath. Well, at least you weren't completely off. He does deal with risky investments.

He groans and gets up, pacing. "I swear to God, if this turns into some scandal-" - "It won’t!" You cut in quickly. "I’ll be invisible. You won’t even know I’m there."

"That... is literally the opposite of what you'd be required to do if I give you a job."

Fuck, there's no way he's gonna risk his business by bringing you in.

"You don't have to pay me!" Now that peaks his interest.

You weren't doing this for money.

You hop offf the sofa and kneel in front of him, clasping your hands in prayer position, "Just give me this. Please."

There’s a beat of silence.

Well, this is a pretty good opportunity for him to boss you around. That's a power he plans to abuse the hell out of.

Logan groans like it’s physically painful, finally giving in, "You screw this up, you’re out. No warnings, no do-overs. I'll perp walk you out myself. Do you understand?"

Yippe!!!!!

You squeal, “YES. YES. THANK YOU.”

He holds up a finger, staring down at you, “I’m serious. You show up late, flirt with any of your coworkers, or vandalise or destroy company property-" - "I know! I'll literally walk myself out."

Logan cusses you out in his mind. You better be serious about this. He can't have any of his employees not take him seriously.

"Can I just start tomorrow? I already have my look ready, so I'm good to go." You were going to go classic and wear a white button down but the buttons are a bit off-centered, with a somewhat flowy black skirt. No compromises on the shoes though. To compensate for the basic outfit, you're wearing five inch stiletto heeled, baby pink pumps.

Still planning, you look up to find Logan. He was already typing away on his phone.

"Uh," Logan's contacting HR to prepare a mini contract. "You can come with me tomorrow, but it won't be your official first day." He informs.

Yay! You do a happy dance.

"Yeah, ok," Logan waves you off before continuing, "So, we can go over the details of what you'll be doing tomorrow. And you can scope the place out. Maybe you'll end up having your own input..." He trails on but you tune him out at some point.

Oh, but your hair! You then cut him off and rush to your room to apply a hair mask so it's super silky the next day.

Logan can only hope you don't wreck anything.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

Across town, Hyewon had gone slightly out of her way to set the mood at her apartment.

She decorated the living room with lit unscented candles because Jungkook's got a sensitive nose.

Having taken the day off, she was able to prepare a fresh meal with fresh ingredients. She made Jungkook's favourites--- grilled pork belly, japchae, and haemul sundubu jjigae.

She even wore this blush silk dress he had complimented in passing once.

She wanted to do something for just the two of them. Something that might gently remind him of what they had, especially lately because he seemed... distracted and busy.

While she cooked and cleaned, she couldn't help but imagine her life if she ever were to marry Jeon Jungkook.

She'd probably move into his mansion. And he'd let her redecorate. Or maybe they'd end up buying a new home entirely.

Dreamily, sighing, Hyewon dims the lights to set a more romantic atmosphere.

When he finally comes over, a little over thirty minutes had passed. And for some reason, Hyewon felt anxious the entire time, wondering if he'd cancel on her at the last minute. But, to her delight, he was here. So she was okay again.

They ate together on the couch. He complimented the candles and her cooking.

Hyewon took a few pictures, laughing as she told him to act normal. Jungkook let her snap as many as she wanted, then tried to swipe the phone from her hand when he saw she was posting it.

She did so anyway.

"Seriously, Won," he muttered, leaning back, almost feeling shy, "You know I don’t like being seen like that online. Especially now."

Jungkook was under a significant amount of stress because of a new client.

"One little photo won't hurt you, Kookie." She smiles at her screen, already seeing the heart replies pouring in. "Maybe this is good for you. Your clients will see you in a stable relationship and put more trust in you. They'll see you as a person."

Trust was never an issue, he thinks. But says nothing, simply nodding, "Maybe."

At the end of their evening, Haewon offers her boyfriend a massage which he reluctantly accepts. He didn't want to put her out. He should be the one offering her a massage since she prepared all these things for him.

And it ends in... Well, you know.

And for Haewon, everything felt right again.

Boy, had she been wrong. And it'd only take a day for her to discover that.

Jungkook had spent the night at his girlfriend's place, not realising he didn't have any more back-up suits kept in his car.

He cusses himself out, wishing he had listened to Hyewon when she kept pushing him to keep some of his clothes over at her place.

Hyewon enjoyed waking up next to him. Driving to work together was convenient too since their offices were in the same business park.

Jungkook had to drive home and then to work. And he was running late by almost an hour.

So, his day was already a bit shitty.

Thank goodness for assigned parking.

At this time of the day, the main lobby is busier than usual as a majority of employees clocked in at this hour.

It's not as if he never came in this late. Jungkook barely noticed any of it most of those times though.

He walked straight, eyes on his phone, mind already halfway inside a courtroom.

Until he heard a laugh. An unmistakably familiar sound.

He ripped his eyes away from his phone to find the source of that sound.

And there you were.

Stood by the reception desk, talking to the only receptionist working that day, holding up a line of angry visitors who awaited clearance.

So fucking typical.

Fucking look at you. Not a care in the world. Taking all the time you need for whatever the hell you were up to.

But what really stood out to him was how ordinary your outfit was. It was so... Unlike you. He resents that he recognises this.

Then he sees something else.

The receptionist handed you a red lanyard. One that's only used by lower level employees in the building.

You fumble with the lanyard as you walk briskly toward the elevators, nearly dropping your ID card in the process.

He stays not too far behind you. Close enough to observe your shenanigans. You really ought to be more vigilant.

The ID keeps slipping out of your grasp, the clasp refusing to cooperate with your freshly done nails. This time, they were a bit more cutesy. You commissioned an up-and-coming artist to create those little 3D decals of Yoshitomo Nara’s art for your nails.

Jungkook thinks about how this was much more like you. He also notices your heels. Were you going to be in them all day?

That's something he'd like to see, he scoffed.

(He really underestimates you. You were practically born with high heels on.)

He watches you head straight to the private elevator, reserved for the execs, CEOs and other VIPS.

The doors to the elevator slide open with a soft ding and you step inside. A beat later, you hear hurried steps, and then a familiar presence slides in beside you.

Jungkook!

He doesn't speak at first. His gaze drops to your hands, still struggling with the lanyard.

Before his brain can stop him, with one hand, he grabs your card and your lanyard. "You're doing it wrong," he mutters.

You startle at his nearness. How the hell did you not notice him?

He thrusts his laptop bag towards you, and you take it from him without being asked.

That was weirdly obedient of you.

You could now recognise his cologne. Very... Woody. You love it.

Sparks shot straight to your pussy as you watched his skilled fingers, easily hooking your lanyard property to your ID. Watching him handle something of yours was doing things to you.

You swallow, maybe a little too audibly, “Thanks." You blush, your lips already curling into a teasing smile.

He hands it back to your wordlessly, stealing his bag back.

This time, you make sure to brush your fingers against his.

Before you could react to the sensation, the elevator doors open.

You blink.

Neither of had pushed a button.

In walked this tall, somewhat muscular looking man. God, were all the men in this building sexy? What the fuck?

His gaze immediately lands on you, then dips to the red lanyard in your hands.

"You're not supposed to be in this one," Tall Man says casually. "This elevator’s for executive-level staff," he trails off, "CEOs, partners..."

You freeze, feeling somewhat scrutinized. "Oh…" You blink up at him with wide, doll-like eyes, embarrassed, "Sorry, I didn’t know."

Uh, you knew. You were considered VIP generally, so.....

Behind you, Jungkook exhales quietly; whether out of disbelief, irritation or, a less likely option, amusement, you’re not sure.

Namjoon, however, chuckles. "No worries. You’re new?"

Fufckchshd, he's so hot. He has dimples too!!

But, how dare he humiliate you like that. :D

You tilt your head, smiling sweetly, “Yeah. I just started. At my brother's company on floor 27."

You know damn well what you were doing partially name-dropping. You wanted him to feel embarrassed for not recognising you.

Everyone knows you. At least, they did, in this business district.

On hearing that, his gaze flicks over to Jungkook; recognition dawning not just from the name, but from memory. The memory of you by the elevator at J, K & K a few days ago. He definitely looked twice that day.

You were almost unrecognisable today.

"Oh," he said, voice laced with amused surprise. "_____, it’s you."

C'est toi.

"Mhm!" You wait for him to introduce himself.

"I'm Kim Namjoon." His tone was a bit playful. He glanced at his partner who sported a semi-scowl now.

OHhhhh. He's one of the Kims in Jeon, Kim & Kim.

Without thinking, you blurt, "Wow, is the third Kim as hot as you two?"

Namjoon snorted, "The other Kim’s my father."

You tilt your head and nod. Well, that didn't answer your question but okay.

Namjoon observes as you look back and forth between himself and Jungkook.

(You were thinking about an Eiffel tower.)

Namjoon seemed to catch the flicker of mischief behind your lashes, because he wasted no time to ask you out, "Let me show you around today. I'll take you to the good lunch spots around here."

And you brighten up, yes, please!!

But you couldn't sound this desperate.

"Oh," you said instead, feigning hesitation, "I was just gonna try the cafeteria today."

He didn’t miss a beat, "Alright then, I’ll keep you company."

Behind you, Jungkook looks up sharply. His eye twitches ever so slightly.

Namjoon. At the cafeteria?

He hated the building's cafeteria. Claimed it resembled a prison cafeteria a bit too much, except with better food.

He never went with Jungkook but he'd go for you? That's crazy.

The elevator door opens on the 25th floor. Jungkook immediately zooms past you, but not before catching you ask his partner to pick you up at 1. His jaw tenses a little.

What the hell were you up to?

What was Namjoon going to do with you anyway? He's way too old for you, in his opinion. But whatever.

Why would he care?

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

Jungkook had tried to work.

He stares at the words on the paper and sighs for the fiftieth time. They just read like gibberish. He’d read the same sentence four times and still didn’t know what it said.

That's what has happened all day. It took him over an hour to get through the most basic defamation case.

This was all your fault. You threw him off his routine.

For the fiftieth time, what were you doing here?

You didn’t need the money. That much was common knowledge.

You didn’t even like early mornings and apparently everyone knew you didn’t 'lift a finger for shit,' as one of the junior associates had so eloquently put it earlier that day.

Your presence in the building had stirred up some gossip. So, you technically ruined everyone's day.

So why?

He exhaled sharply, pushing the file away, annoyed with himself.

He should get something to eat. He was just about to text Haewon when he's sudden reminded of something.

He needed to sign-off on Namjoon's Hwa Capital due diligence report and send it before 2.

He rings Namjoon's assistant in. "Is Namjoon still in the cafeteria?" He figured he could go down there himself and get the job done quickly.

The assistant blinked, confused. Why would Namjoon be there? "What? No, he’s in his office. Has been for a while."

That made Jungkook frown. It was fifteen minutes past one. Wasn't he supposed to pick you up?

Jungkook doesn't know what came over him.

It's like a wave of something passed through him when he heard this. His gut twisted.

He walked briskly toward Namjoon’s office, not really knowing what he was about to do, and forced the door open without knocking.

"Hey---" He froze before he could finish.

The first thing he sees is you.

You were on your feet, but barely. Namjoon had your back pressed against his bookshelf, with one of his arms wrapped firmly around your waist, holding you upright, anchoring you to him.

His other arm disappeared under your skirt, behind your thigh.

But that wasn’t the part that made Jungkook’s fist clench.

Your blouse was gaping open, your bra askew, and Namjoon’s mouth was on your tits. Messily licking and sucking on your nipples.

It was this.

Your soft moans fill his ears. Your eyes were tightly shut in pleasure.

You were clinging to Namjoon desperately. One hand tangled in his hair, guiding his head over your breasts. The other... was palming him through his light grey slacks.

Were you trying to make him cum in his pants?

Namjoon's groans were mixed in with a few 'fuck's and praises for you. Your moans and giggles get louder as you hear him talk dirty to you. You responded to him with affirmative moans.

Namjoon brings his thumb to your mouth, making you suck on it, then traces a path down to your nipple, rapidly rubbing your pretty, sensitive bud. Pleasure shoots straight to your clit.

Jungkook just stares. Why the hell hadn't he said anything yet?!

Jungkook attempts to speak but no sound leaves his mouth.

Coincidentally, you open your eyes at that exact moment and gasp, horrified for a second because you thought some perverted stranger had been watching you. But it was just Jungkook. You were truly shocked.

Quickly, you tug on Namjoon's hair, maneuvering him to aim his vision towards the door where his partner stood.

"Shit!" Namjoon jerked away instantly, pulling you flush against him to shield as much of your bare skin as he could, chest heaving as he tries to recover his pace.

Hehe. Hot.

Meanwhile, you only looked a tad flushed and breathless, but not particularly bothered. "Oops," you giggled, eyes fluttering toward Jungkook with a sheepish smile, “I thought latch down meant locked.”

Jungkook blinked hard. His jaw clenched as he finally tore his eyes away from your figures.

Clearing his throat, he addressed Namjoon stiffly, “I need the completed Hwa Capital documents. Preferably now.”

Namjoon, a bit more relaxed now, gave a lopsided grin, still holding you tightly against him. “Right. Ten minutes?”

Jungkook didn’t say another word. His eyes flicked to you one last time, registering new details--- your lipstick was smudged and glossy, or was it wet with spit? Your hair was a little out of place too. A shiny silver pin had slid halfway down the length of your hair.

Your gaze stayed on Jungkook. It was.... Inviting. A little challenging. But mostly just bold.

Your shirt was still open, bra still tugged under your tits, but Namjoon covered you well.

Though you wanna push his arm away, you refrain. That'd be too dirty.

This wasn't how you imagined he'd first see you naked. But honestly? If it gets him thinking about you, then great.

Taking a deep breath, Jungkook finally turned and left. The door stayed open.

Namjoon finally pulled away from you, still holding you close enough to stare down into your eyes. You smile and pull him in for one last make out session before you depart, and, of course, he happily obliges. And you're grateful for him.

UGGHh it felt so good to kiss. It had been a while since you last fucked someone. So, this was good for you.

Namjoon helps you button your shirt up and fix your hair.

What a sweetie.

You bid him goodbye and promise to catch him for dinner sometime.

You cross Jungkook's office on route to the elevators, but don't wait to see if he was in there.

(In case you were wondering, he was.)

Back in Jungkook's office, he had given up on trying to work today.

He sat at his desk, elbow propped against the armrest, thumb pressed to his temple like he could physically will his thoughts into order.

He had to redirect all his energy into not thinking about your bare tits.

Fucking Kim Namjoon, that son of a bitch.

"Fuck..." He groans. He was going to give himself a headache at this rate.

Every time he blinked, he saw your flushed face.

You bother him so bad.

You were such a little brat. Who fucks in an office? Just because you own the building doesn't enable you to move freely through it in this manner.

He pays rent for this space.

And you can just come in and fuck his assosiate? It's disrespectful.

Jungkook dragged in a breath, leaning back in his chair, glaring up at the ceiling like it had answers.

His head wanders back to your flushed face and the moans your pretty mouth released. And then to your pretty perky nipples.

God, get a grip.

Stop it.

He had a fucking girlfriend.

This cold splash of reality brought him back down to Earth: Hyewon. She's grounded, loyal, familiar. A successful, intelligent woman.

On the other hand, you were just a selfish brat with no sense of boundaries.

How was Hyewon friends with someone like you?

Jungkook decided he had had enough that day.

He calls in a sick day and leaves.

Namjoon could handle everything by himself anyway.

next: killah (jjk) [4]

note: idk why i call these drabbles because they're honestly just as long as my regular stories labelled fics, like this one's well over 4.5k words long like ew

anywhoooo, tell me what you think :3 please don't be a silent reader ok ly

ANd yeah the elevator scene seems to go on forever, shh, minor plot holes 😭

307 notes · View notes

jmliebert · 4 months ago

Text

♡ Halsin Being Love Smitten by an Oblivious Tav ♡

Oh, this is a good one. Halsin — strong, confident, experienced — brought to his knees by one thing he never saw coming: your sheer, unrelenting obliviousness. It’s hard to make him baffled, but you did. You actually made him baffled. Incredible.

He’s lived for over three centuries. Seen countless wonders, taken many lovers, and faced horrors that would break lesser souls. Nothing has caught him off guard for the longest time it would seem. And yet you have. Because somehow, despite his very clear interest, his smoothest moves, and his voice dropping into that deep purr — you simply don’t get it. Not one bit.

And by Oak Father, it really do baffles him.

You see, he feels it every time you walk by — a rush of warmth in his chest, the unshakable need to be near you. He listens to your every word, even your stillest ramblings, with rapt attention, laughing easily and freely in a way he hasn’t in years. It feels good to be close to you. It feels right. And he’s wise enough to know exactly what that means. He is, without doubt, utterly and completely love smitten with you… and Halsin is many things, but shy is not one of them. So naturally — he courts you.

At first, subtly, slowly… intending to take full pleasure from getting to know you better in that kind of way. A lingering touch here, a playful tease there, a deep-chested chuckle whenever you say something endearing. Surely you’ll catch on.

You do not.

You smile at him. You laugh, you listen, you seem happy to be around him. But not once — not once! — you show any sign of realising that he likes you more than a friend. (oh, so much more)

Is he being too subtle? Surely not. Halsin is experienced. He’s seen things. He’s been with partners who could read his desires from a single glance, and here he is — flexing like a fool whenever you so much as glance in his direction, hoping you’ll notice.

And Oak Father help him, he’s trying so hard. It’s like he isn’t himself anymore. He feels like a young pup wandering into unknown territory.

So… he finds excuses to touch you. Offers a steadying hand when crossing a stream (as if you’re not perfectly capable), lets his large hands linger on your waist a fraction too long when lifting you over an obstacle. Getting all worked up from the mere brush of your knees.

One day Halsin brings you fruit he’s foraged with a casual,

"If you desire more, I am always at your service.”

"You really do take good care of everyone," you say, eyes shining with pure, unshaken obliviousness. The words he wants to say—I would much rather focus my care on you specifically—catch in his throat, swallowed down by a sigh. Somehow, faced with your innocence, he just can’t bring himself to say it.

Has he lost his touch? Is he truly so out of practice? He has never worked this hard to make his feelings known. And worse—he’s starting to feel things he hasn’t in years. Frustration, longing, an almost feral urge to just grab you by the shoulders and tell you outright.

By the gods, he is horny and in distress. And he’s been horny many times, but in distress like this? No. However… Halsin is not a man who simply gives up. Not to doubt, not to hesitation—and certainly not when it comes to you. Not when he’s waited lifetimes to feel this way again. Not when he’s finally met someone who stirs the very roots of his being.

So, no more subtlety, no more lingering touches. No more charming lines that you so sweetly misunderstand. One evening, with all the weight of a man on the brink, he levels you with a look, strong arms crossed over his chest, and says in a tone that leaves no room for interpretation:

“Tav. We need to talk. And this time, I’ll make sure you understand exactly what I mean.”

Because by the Oak Father, if you don’t realise how desperately he wants you after this conversation—he might just lose his mind.

So he takes you away—away from the crackling campfire, from the idle chatter of your companions, from the weight of the world pressing down on both of you. He leads you to a quiet, secluded glade where the trees arch overhead like ancient sentinels. The stars shimmer above, casting silver light over everything, but Halsin?

Halsin is radiant.

He stands before you, broad and strong, his golden skin illuminated by moonlight. There’s something different in the way he looks at you now—an intensity, a quiet, unshaken resolve. And then, in a voice deep as the earth itself, he speaks:

"I want to lay with you under the stars and feel your skin against mine…”

Your breath stutters. Your eyes widen, because suddenly, everything clicks into place.

The lingering touches. The flirtation you had brushed off as simple kindness. The way his gaze always seemed to find you, the way his presence felt like a steady force in your current life, constant and unwavering. It was never just friendliness. It was never just admiration.

It was this.

It was him wanting you.

The weight of his words sinks into you, slow and heavy like honey pouring thick from a jar. He isn’t teasing. He isn’t jesting—Halsin is far too earnest for that. His kindness, his unwavering dedication, have only blurred the truth for you. But now, there is no mistaking it. There’s no lightheartedness in his tone—only intention. Only want.

The words roll off his tongue like a promise, rich with meaning, with want. His voice is steady, but there’s something beneath it—an unmistakable need. His hand lifts, slow, deliberate, as if he’s savouring every second before he touches you. And when he does—when his large, calloused palm finally cups your cheek—your breath catches.

His warmth is immediate, grounding, real. He’s so close now—too close, not close enough. His golden eyes search yours, darkened with something primal, something deep and unspoken. He’s looking for something—truth. An answer. A silent permission for this moment to become something more.

And gods, the air between you is alive with it.

Will you give it to him?

That choice—that power—is yours.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

again, thanks for this lovely request

you can find more of my works about halsin ♡here♡ hihi

#halsin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate halsin #bg3 imagine #bg3 halsin imagine #halsin x tav #halsin imagine #halsin headcanons #halsin x you #halsin x oc #halsin x reader #halsin bg3 #halsin silverbough #halsin fluff #bg3 fluff

757 notes · View notes

distantdarlings · 2 years ago

Text

HAVE ME // t. nott

RATING: R / 4.8K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* When you are paired with Cormac McClaggen for a mid-semester project, he takes it as an opportunity to shoot his shot. However, despite your numerous rejections, he doesn't seem to want to let up. That is until Theo gets involved.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT, depictions of violence (a small fight, specifically), blood described very briefly, Cormac is hitting on reader and won't leave them alone, language, oral sex (perf. on reader), kissing, dom!Theo, fem reader, not proof-read

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Hotel - Montell Fish

---

The chatter around the classroom slowly dwindled as Professor Snape silently slipped through the door of his office. Everyone was waiting patiently for the results of his decision from yesterday. He mentioned that the mid-semester project would be partnered rather than solo. To you, that was bad news, but to others in the class, it was good. You worked best when you didn’t have to sort out the ideas getting bounced around aloud. But if you had to work with a partner, please let it be someone halfway decent.

“So,” Snape starts, “I have here the list of partners for the mid-semester project. As a reminder, you will be handling very toxic materials, so for the sake of all of our time, be careful with them.” His expression hinted at boredom, despite the unfortunate things he was referencing. Last year, someone nearly lost a hand with this project, and—to be quite honest—that was one of the reasons you were so excited about it. You liked the challenge and, even better, overcoming it. But you couldn’t do that with a shitty partner. Your fingers crossed beneath your open notebook.

“Malfoy with Weasley, Berkshire with Granger,” he began listing the names. Your hips shifted uncomfortably. He was pairing everyone with the opposite house. Surely he’d grant you some mercy with how well you’d been doing in this class?

“—Nott with Finnigan—” Your thoughts were briefly interrupted as Theodore’s name was called. That was an interesting pairing; however, you knew that Potions was one of Theo’s strong suits, and, granted they worked well together, the both of them would successfully keep their eyebrows intact.

Your eyes found the older boy, tracing over every line on his face. You were friends, pretty good friends. His whole group of Slytherins were friendly with you, really. But there was something about him that had shocked you to your core from the first night you’d met him and started chatting at the Sorting ceremony when the both of you were eleven. He was quite literally one of the most attractive people you’d ever seen, and it seemed like he knew it too. The way he held himself down to the way he communicated with people, he just knew he was alarmingly alluring.

He had a way of staring right into your eyes when you spoke to him, almost to the point it felt as if he was reading your mind. No matter what, he’d give you his full attention, even more so than his other friends, it seemed. Maybe you had always imagined it, but if you called his name, he was there. He would be waiting with his ear next to your lips, eager to hear what you had to say, no matter how you were feeling. Perhaps it was cliche, but you felt as though you could tell him anything, and you did.

His eyes found yours suddenly. His lips parted into a crooked smile, his dazzling white teeth peeking through slightly. You returned the action, raising your eyebrows in an amused fashion at his partner for the project. He shrugged, the smile never leaving his face. He pointed at you and mouthed, ‘You’re coming up.’ You rolled your eyes and laughed silently as you brushed him off. You were laughing, but, in all seriousness, this wasn’t a comedic matter. Your Potions grade was potentially on the chopping block here, and you were getting nervous. Snape didn’t grade depending on who did what; he simply graded on the project's legitimacy. You could do this by yourself, but if whomever your partner ended up being fucks it up, you both were screwed. And, on top of it all, you would have to work with a Gryffindor, someone you likely barely knew. Perfect.

Your name perked your ears as Snape paused for a moment, trying to decipher his own handwriting. Merlin, was he trying to tease you? You glanced around, wondering who hadn’t been selected yet. You hadn’t been paying attention. “Ah! With McClaggen.”

Your heart sank. You turned to glance over your shoulder at the showy Gryffindor sitting in the back corner of the classroom. He sent a wink and a small smirk your way, to which you replied by quickly turning back around. Did the universe hate you? It must. That was the only answer. Shit.

“Get to work,” he instructed, returning to his office and firmly shutting the door behind him. You weighed out the options in your head on how angry Snape would be if you asked to switch partners. You were sure he picked them for a reason…or maybe he didn’t? Merlin, help. Should you even bother with this? Maybe you could convince McClaggen to let you do all the work. He could sit patiently by and be quiet.

The classroom bustled gently as students were standing and finding their partners. Small groans echoed as everyone paired up. Apparently, you weren’t the only one that disliked your partner. Usually, you wouldn’t have expected Professor Snape to have paired Gryffindors with Slytherins. Who knew? Maybe he was trying something new.

You hid a wince and got to your feet. You collected your notebook and school bag and made your way over to the smirking boy. His hands were placed cockily behind his head, and one leg rested, crossed over the other. He maximalized every bit of space he took up, like a peacock. You repressed a groan and sat down in the seat next to him, neatly spreading your things out.

“Well, hello,” he cooed. “I don’t think I’ve spoken with you before.”

“I don’t think so either,” you chuckled nervously, eyes finding the back of Theo’s head. He sat towards the front of the classroom, partnered with the clumsy Gryffindor. You wondered if he was having the same doubts you were. As if on beat, his head turned and made eye contact with you. He hid a smile at your current predicament and gave you a small wave with his fingers. You rolled your eyes and, with the hand farthest from McClaggen, pretended to choke yourself with it. Theo laughed aloud before turning back around when his partner tapped his shoulder.

“What’s so funny?” your partner asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” you smiled, “how about we get started?”

Most of the class period was spent discussing the potion the two of you wanted to brew. The assignment was to pick one of the most difficult potions to brew and to make and document the experience successfully. All of the potions you were to choose from were in the very last chapter of your textbook, and the two of you flipped through the pages, unsure.

Every so often, Cormac (you’d learned his first name was) would point at something on one of the pages and scoot ever so closer to you. He was so close now you could smell the peppermint candy he swished around his mouth. His arm rested alongside the back of your chair, and you were…immensely uncomfortable. Your back straightened so as not to come into contact with his arm.

Throughout this whole experience, you’d glance Theo looking back at the two of you every so often and wonder if you could signal him to distract the boy. It wasn’t that you felt threatened; you just wish he’d back the hell up. If you had a personal bubble, it had long since combusted. His face was so close to yours, and no matter how far you leaned away, he’d get closer. Finally, you’d had enough.

“Cormac,” you laughed nervously. You placed one hand on his chest and slowly pushed him back toward his own seat.

“What is it?” he asked. No matter what you did, that stupid smirk never failed.

“You are very close to me,” you explained, trying to remain as polite as possible. He shrugged and chuckled a bit, gaining on some of the space you’d placed between the two of you.

“Well, that’s because I want to get closer to you,” he said.

“Uh, no,” you tittered, “that’s okay. Let’s just do the project.” You tapped the textbook and pretended to immerse yourself back in the information, hoping he’d let it lie. He didn’t. His arm wrapped back around your chair, and your eyes slipped close in exasperation.

“Cormac, please—”

“What? Don’t you want to get to know each other before we do a project together?” he asked, scooting closer yet again.

“No, I really don’t. I just want to get this done.” His face resumed its previous proximity to yours. He smirked at the closeness and you sighed, turning your face away from his, begging Theo to glance back again.

“Oh, I see…is he your boyfriend?” Cormac asked. Your face shot back to his.

“What? No! He’s just a friend,” you said.

“That was a very quick, rushed answer,” he laughed, “but if you say so, that’s even better for me—”

“Please, let’s just do the assignment,” you pleaded, “I’m really not interested.”

“Not even for a trip to Hogsmeade?”

“No, not really, you’re not my type.” You glanced back at Theo. He was finally looking back. Only this time, his eyes were locked on the boy beside you, with his face so close to yours. His eyes gleamed blood red, and his jaw clenched tightly. Your eyebrows furrowed, begging him to intervene somehow. If Cormac wasn’t too embarrassed to shoot his shot in the middle of class, surrounded by his peers, you were almost positive he’d continue to harass you outside of the classroom. Maybe even when the two of you were alone, and he might not let up at that point.

“What is your type?” he asked. “Brooding assholes in Slytherin?” He said this part a bit louder, making direct eye contact with Theo. You could feel the tension building slightly, and did your best to diffuse the situation. You partially blocked their gaze of each other.

“Please don’t say that about him.”

“I thought you said he wasn’t your boyfriend. Why are you defending him?”

“He’s not my boyfriend, but he is my friend, and I’d like you not to call him names,” you spoke sternly, eyes hardening on the boy. He was plucking the last strings of your patience.

“Fine, I will—” you nodded at his promise “—if you let me take you to dinner.”

The bell signalling the end of class interrupted the conversation. Thank Merlin. You quickly gathered your things together and shoved them into your bag, praying he’d just drop the subject and let you move on with your day. You’d figure out a way to deal with him later. For right now, you just wanted to get your free period started as soon as possible. He stood right when you did. You ignored him and made for the exit, walking as quickly as looked natural.

You were the first out of the classroom and down the hall, trying your best to get away from him without completely abandoning Theo. A hand grabbed your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. It roughly spun you around, yanking a yelp from your throat. You stood before Cormac, who had a sinister look on his face.

“You never answered me,” he said. “Let me take you to dinner…”

“No, Cormac, I don’t want to go,” you said, attempting to wrestle yourself out of his iron grip. What about your thousand answers was he not grasping?

“Let go of me.” His hand did not release you, and it did not seem like he intended to, either. You slipped your hand between his and your shoulder, trying to edge it off. He made a sound of endearment before attempting to slide a hand around your hips. You squealed and squirmed away from him, trying to prevent him from wrapping his arms farther around you.

“Hey!” A voice shouted. The both of you began to turn, but before Cormac could get his head fully pivoted, a hand appeared on his shoulder and yanked him away from you. It was Theo, and he appeared to be fuming. His jaw was tightly clenched, and his eyes were wild.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing, McClaggen?” he demanded. “She said no, you dick!”

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business. She said you weren’t her boyfriend,” the younger laughed meanly, poking him roughly in the chest. You winced at the contact.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he hissed, pushing the boy back from him. Cormac stumbled a few steps before regaining his footing. It appeared he was as surprised as everyone else was at the sudden hostility. Cormac laughed cockily.

He raised a hand and swung his fist at Theo as hard as he could, getting a good hit in. Theo’s head jerked to the side from the force of the punch, and you gasped sharply, hands shooting to cover your mouth in shock. Natural instincts told you to jump back, but you rushed toward Theo, who pushed you back gently behind him, squeezing your arm firmly. It didn’t hurt, but you knew it meant to stay put.

“Come on, Slytherin!” Cormac shouted. “Show me what your reject house is made of!”

A crowd of other students had begun to gather around the two boys, curious to see what all of the commotion was. Adrenaline pumped through your veins like ice water as you watched Theo approach the other boy, cocking his arms and wringing any stiffness out of them.

Before you could feel the exhalation of breath leave your body, Theo swung his arm at the boy, cracking him hard across the jaw. As if in slow motion, Cormac fell back and hit the ground with a hard thud. You imagined his tailbone would be quite bruised tomorrow morning.

Theo fell down on top of the boy, legs resting on either side of his hips, and wailed on him. Fist after fist hit the boy’s face, pushing more and more blood out of him. You screamed in shock as you realized Theo had no intention of stopping. Around the same time you did, everyone else did too. They began throwing shouts of concern and pressing in on the two boys. Everybody loved a good fight now and then but nobody wanted to see someone get killed.

Yet, nobody put their hands on Theo for fear of being in the same predicament as Cormac currently was. That was, until Enzo and Mattheo ran up behind the crowd. You heard them ask if that was Theo.

“Enzo!” you shouted his name, waving over the crowd. His eyes quickly found yours and in seeing the distress on your face, began weaving through the crowd. Mattheo quickly followed suit.

When they breached the barrier of the crowd, their eyes widened, and they made for their friend. They grabbed his shoulders and pulled him away from the poor boy, his face a mangled mess. You looked away quickly, not wanting to see the damage that had been done in your favor.

Once pulled away, a gathering of students ran over to Cormac and covered him with a wall of their protection, trying to see if they could help him somehow. You turned to Theo, who was breathing heavily, a single dripping of blood pouring from his nose. You turned to the bottom of your uniform shirt, found the edge of the seam, and tore a small section of it. You could get a replacement sometime later.

You approached the boy with a murderous gaze and gently pressed the piece of shirt beneath his nose. He flinched slightly but never looked away from Cormac. Maybe that hadn’t been for you, and he’d just wanted to beat Cormac’s ass—which is understandable, but still. You weren’t totally sure why he did it.

“Theo?” you spoke gently. His glare didn’t waver. The fingers pressing the material against his bloodied nose tilted his face carefully to look at you. His eyes found yours, softening slightly.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, his chest heaving. “I couldn’t stand him touching you like that.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured. He didn’t seem convinced. How he looked at you with such concern and worry made you wonder if he thought you were mad at him. You shook your head at the question running through your mind. Obviously, he didn’t know what you had been thinking, but you hoped he’d understand somehow.

You helped Enzo and Mattheo pull him to his feet and escort him away from the crowd before any of the professors showed up. Speaking of which, they likely should have been out here by now.

As you helped the boys guide Theo toward the Slytherin common room, you were careful to avoid any obvious eyes that raced past them to see what the aftermath of the commotion was. Hopefully, nobody would notice them and they could deal with the whole situation later. The group turned the corner and stopped before the entrance to the dorm room. Enzo announced the password, and the lot of you headed inside, pulling Theo up the stairs and into the boys’ dorm room. He pulled away from them suddenly and sat on his bed.

“Alright, alright, I’m okay!” he declared. “I just got a sock to the jaw; my legs weren’t broken.”

“They’re just trying to help, Teddy,” you whispered, trying to place the cloth back on his nose that had started up its intermittent spurting again. He sighed and gently grabbed your wrist, holding it away from his face. He was never rough with you, despite how angry he was.

“I’m fine, I’m just wound up, I don’t need any of you to—”

“Nonsense,” you interrupted him. “Mattheo, Enzo, would the two of you mind running down to the hospital wing and asking Madam Pomfrey if she has anything to stop the bleeding. It’s not excessive, but it’s messy.”

“Is there not a spell or something like that?” Mattheo asked, clearly concerned for his friend.

“Not one that I know off the top of my head. Would you just go ask her, please?” you repeated yourself. The two boys seemed to hesitate but eventually worked their way out of the room with their destination in mind. Once they were gone, your eyes turned back to Theo’s. An amused glint lay suspended in his eyes.

“‘Nothing that comes to mind?’” he smirks. “If a spell comes to my mind and not yours, the world must be upside down.” You conceal a laugh. You knew a spell. You knew multiple healing spells, but you wanted Mattheo and Enzo out of the room for a second. You just wanted to speak with Theo about what had happened.

“I’m sorry I lied to your friends,” you said. “But I really wanted to talk with you privately, and I didn’t want to wait.” His eyes keep a tight hold on yours. You swallow thickly.

“Okay, what is it?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Anxiety pools in your stomach as you realize you hadn’t really planned anything to say. You wanted to know why Theo had done what he did and if it was for or because of you. Cormac had been bothering you, yes, but it could have just been that Theo really disliked him and wanted to intervene.

“Why did you do that?” you ask. Probably the worst way you could have asked that, but it was what came out. You might as well own it at this point.

“Do what?” he mused.

“Why did you stop Cormac?”

“That feels like a dumb question. He was laying his hands on you without your permission.”

“Would you have done that for anyone, though?” you stuttered through your interrogation.

“I suppose not….why do you ask?” he asked, the smirk never leaving his face. Your eyes fell down to his lips suddenly, noticing that there was a small amount of dried blood stained across them. A small gasp left your lips as you reached your hand out. You didn’t think through any of the following movements; you just allowed your body to do as it pleased. Your fingers gently cradled his jaw, and your thumb swiped slowly over his lips, collecting the bit of staining as it crossed. Your eyes found him again, and you realized he was intently watching you. His eyes were softened by hunger. The way they traveled down to your lips, his lips parting as he found yours, his hands clenching by his side. It sent a chill down your spine.

“Theo,” you breathed. You could not pull your eyes away from his swollen lips. You wanted so badly to learn their taste and memorize it for eternity. Just one kiss and you could be satisfied for the rest of your days.

“I kicked Cormac’s ass because he was laying his hands on you, and I have been desperate to do that for years…,” he whispered. “The difference between him and I, though? I ask permission.” A glimpse of a chuckle spreads over his lips, and you feel your stomach blush with heat. As if he could feel it happen to you, his nose bumped softly against yours, igniting the heat and transforming it into a flame.

“I want you so bad,” he whispered, the air skimming your lips. “Please let me have you.”

“Have me, Teddy.” Your response was final. His hands gripped each side of your face firmly and pressed your lips together. Heat and light and everything in between exploded into your stomach, sending shocks of love into your heart. You could have melted on the spot, and you nearly did, if it weren’t for Theo wrapping one arm tightly around your waist and holding you up.

His tongue slid over your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You granted him access to every part of you with no push-back. All you wanted was to feel him everywhere and never to lose that feeling ever again.

The both of his hands pushed around the back of your thighs and pulled them to either side of his bent knees. He settled you neatly onto his lap, you straddling his thighs against the bed. The action sent a lightning bolt of pleasure directly to your core as the space between his thighs urged gently against you. You sighed against his mouth, entangling your fingers into his hair.

Everything about him was overwhelming. His smell, his taste, and his touch had you gasping for air. You had never realized how much you truly wanted him until this very moment. Without so much as a breath, he cradled your back with one hand and stood from his bed, lifting the two of you into the air. You squeaked from the sudden movement but relaxed instantly when he settled you against his bed.

His lips detached from yours and quickly made alliance with your jaw and then your neck. His head worked down the frame of your body, pressing open-mouthed kisses to every sliver of skin he could find. When he reached the waistline of your uniform skirt, he tapped his finger twice against the spot where your shirt was tucked in. You nodded so quickly, it was almost pathetic. He smirked and slipped his hands between the materials. He tugged your shirt out and began laying the same types of kisses over your bare stomach. You groaned at the feeling, noticing the ardor he placed into each press of his lips. You felt worshipped and it was addicting.

His eyes flicked up to find yours as he slowly pushed himself farther down, placing himself just in front of your core. Without question, your legs began to spread for him, allowing him access to anything he wanted. You just needed to feel him; you didn’t care what he did.

Your eyes found his face once more and scanned over the entirety of it. A deep, sinister glance rested in his eyes, holstering a lust so dark, it almost frightened you. His lips were slightly parted in a teasing, smirking way, just waiting to place themselves against you once more. And his nose had…oh, it had begun to bleed again. You reached down and swiped your thumb beneath it, pushing the excess discharge away. A small twinge of guilt hit you again at the thought of Theo getting himself hurt for you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, frowning at the sight before you.

“You never have to apologize to me,” he breathed, “you are perfect.” And with that, he’d flipped the edge of your skirt over your legs and sunk his face between them. His tongue found your core before you could even get a word out. A breathless moan spilled from your lips as your spine arched off the bed. Your hands immediately pushed down to wrap themselves in his curls, savoring every single swipe of his tongue.

“So fucking good,” he moaned against you, the vibrations sending messages up to your very brain. You quaked beneath the feeling, your thighs shaking against the boy’s hold on them. It was nearly becoming too much. You weren’t going to last much longer. If he wanted to do something, he’d better get to it.

“Theo, I’m…c—”

“Not yet, baby,” he whispered, pressing two chaste kisses to the inside of your thighs. You could feel the wetness spread across his lips and chin smear against your flesh. You shuddered at the sensation. It definitely should not have turned you on as much as it just did. “I want it on my tongue.”

He separates himself from you and slides his hands beneath the crook of your knees. With a firm grip, he yanks you to the edge of the bed, where your hips are lying just over the curve. His hands find your hips and flip you over onto your stomach, careful to avoid hurting you in any way. Ever so gentle.

You could hear him kneel down again behind you. Your thighs shook in anticipation just before he pressed his lips back to you. His tongue swirled across you in the most delicate of motions, drawing every sound possible from your lips. Your fingers gripped the sheets as each of his movements drew you closer to the edge. You might finish any second.

“Hey-o!” Mattheo’s voice came from just outside the door. You jumped up and glanced back at Theo as the both of you separated as fast as possible. Theo came up to sit beside you on the bed and made quick work of wiping his mouth off on his sleeve. You pulled your skirt back over your legs and stood at attention, waiting for the two boys to enter. Damn it. You had been so close.

The two boys walked in, clutching a small vial of liquid. Mattheo raised it to show the two of them, both of whom quickly nodded, smiling innocently. Surely, they wouldn’t suspect anything of the two of you. You’d never really expressed any feelings toward the other before now. At least not publicly.

“Where do you want this?” Mattheo asked.

“If you would just take it to the bathroom, we’re headed in there so they can help me clean up the rest of the way.” Both of the other boys nodded and headed back out the way they came, moving toward the group bathroom.

Just as they left, Theo slipped his hand beneath your skirt and traced his fingers along you, allowing one to insert itself to its hilt. You gasped sharply, trying your best to mute the sound. His hand began to pump against you, slowly rising in speed as he hit that perfect spot each time with ease. The sounds spilling from your lips became less and less controlled as he pushed you towards the edge, keeping you standing tall and refusing to let you lay back down on the bed.

“Come like this, baby,” he whispered. “Quickly, before they get back.” His finger pressed deeply up into you one last time, bruising the soft spot and forcing a rushing finish down on you. Your lips parted in a shocked moan as the proof of your end slipped down around Theo’s fingers. He worked you through the entirety of it, never tiring and never halting. He could do this all day.

The sound of his friends heading back toward the dorm room pushed the two of you apart once again. Only this time, Theo had a telling, lustful expression imprinted on his face, and the remains of your ecstasy were still painted across his fingers. You swiped a hand between your thighs in an attempt to clean yourself off and brushed any concerns from Mattheo or Enzo off. The ‘Are you okay?’ and the ‘You guys look weird’ had nothing on the steel resolve the both of you kept planted on your faces. If Theo could fight someone for you, you could fight the urge to tell his friends he’d just let you fuck his face while they were out running an errand. Oh well, such is life. You laughed to yourself.

#fanfiction #creative writing #fanfic #writing #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #reader insert #oneshot #slytherin #harry potter smut #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #mattheo riddle #enzo berkshire #request #cormac mclaggen #fem reader

4K notes · View notes

secretl1fe0fm3 · 5 months ago

Text

maroon ~ billie eilish x fem!reader

“the burgundy on my t-shirt when you splashed your wine into me, and how the blood rushed into my cheeks so scarlet, it was maroon.”

warnings: smut, oral, fingering, strap (r!receiving), dirty talk, dom!billie, sub!reader, alcohol consumption (both reader and billie are of age)

18+ minors dni!!!

2k words

part two

Your head leans on the car window as you watch the lights from the city shimmer on the wet pavement, leaving a glow illuminating the streets. You sigh lightly as your phone lit up in your lap, glancing down you noticed your friend had texted you, asking if you were on your way yet. Typing away a quick response to confirm her question, you set your phone back down.

You were currently in the back of a cab, on the way to an event at a high end bar your friend had invited you to, as her plus one. She didn't really give you many details, other than the fact that it was formal. Per her request, you chose to wear a short tight white satin slip dress, adorned with lace trimming. You paired it with your favorite red heels, and gold accessories. It definitely wasn't an outfit in your comfort zone, but your friend had mentioned some celebrities had been invited. You wanted to look your best, not knowing who you could possibly run into.

As your car pulls up, nerves suddenly flood your head, unsure if this was truly a good idea or not. There were some photographers standing in front of the building, looking like they were waiting for someone specific to show. Glancing away from them, you look up and see your friend standing next to the doors, waving at you. A smile fell over your lips, relieved to see her waiting for your arrival. You step out of the car, thanking your driver briefly before walking over to her.

She squeals excitedly as she pulls you into a tight hug, "Its so good to see you!" You grin as you hugged her back, realizing how long it had been since you've seen her last.

"Thank you so much for inviting me, Ive never been to one of these private events before." You laugh out nervously, playing with the rings on your fingers. She smiles at you, laughing with you, noting your nerves.

"Of course! You're going to have so much fun, I promise you. Cmon, let's go inside." She grabs your hand, leading you inside. As soon as she opened the door, the deafening sound of music and loud conversations filled your ears. You followed closely behind her as she pulled you through the crowd, heading straight for the bar. She ordered the both of you a glass of red wine. As you waited with her, you glance around, noticing some familiar faces that you've seen before.

"Here you go!" Your friend hands you your glass, breaking you out of your daze. You take the glass from her, taking a sip quickly, hoping to gain some liquid courage soon. You felt out of place, not knowing what to do as you glance around, watching everyone converse.

She nudges you, and you focus your eyes back on hers. "Lets go sit somewhere and catch up, yeah?" Before you can even respond, she pulls you over to a dark lit booth in the corner of the room. You both sit down and continue to sip on your wine, sharing stories of childhood memories, and years of friendship.

An hour passes, and you and your friend are both flushed pink, now on your third glass of wine together. You continue to laugh obnoxiously with her, until you realize your glass is almost empty. Giggling, you excuse yourself, and grab your glass of wine, heading in the direction of the bar.

You look back at your friend and smile to yourself, not paying attention to where you're walking, immediately bumping into someone. Your feet falter as your wine glass gets pushed towards your chest, ultimately staining the upper half of your white dress a deep burgundy color. "Fuck-" You curse loudly, not realizing who you even ran into in the commotion. Glancing up, your green eyes meet ocean blue, the words dying on your tongue.

"Oh shit, Im sorry! I didn't even see you." The woman rushes out as you gape at her. You couldn't even begin to be convinced that Billie Eilish was standing in front of you, her eyes full of concern. "Oh my god, your dress, Im so sorry." Billie says apologetically as she grabs onto your arm gently.

Your cheeks flush a deep scarlet color, similar to the unfortunate color now adorning your white dress. You lose the ability to speak at first, unsure if your tipsy state is making you hallucinate. Her eyes stare into yours until you finally find the words.

"Its okay, I wasn't even paying attention to where I was going." You breathe out, reassuring her. Your heart rate seemed to be going a mile a minute. Looking down at your dress, you sigh softly to yourself, realizing the stain is worse than you thought. Billie's grip falls from your arm, noticing your disappointed expression. She continues to look at you, biting her lip, until a smile falls on her face.

"Here," She quickly shrugs off her suit jacket, holding it out to you. "Take this, please."

You hesitantly take the jacket out of her hands, staring at her with furrowed brows. "Are you sure? It's not that bad, really, I'll probably be leaving soon anyways."

Billie shakes her head, dismissing your comment. "It's the least I can do. Plus, I feel awful for ruining your pretty dress." She cracks a smile, her eyes glancing up and down your body quickly before returning to yours.

"Thank you." You smile back at her, your cheeks heating up again. You put her jacket on, making sure to cover the stain. Her grin gets impossibly bigger at the sight of you in her jacket.

"I'm Billie, by the way." She added quickly, and you let out a small laugh, exchanging your name with her as well. Billie grinned at you, her eyes studying you.

You didn't know why, but you felt nervous under her gaze. "Thank you again, I should really get going though." You rushed out, glancing back at your friend, then back at Billie. She takes note of your nervousness and smirks.

"Let me at least get you a new glass, yeah?" She offers, motioning towards your now empty glass. Your cheeks flush an even deeper color.

Nodding, you follow her as she makes her way towards the bar, ordering you a new glass of wine. You stand beside her, silently admiring her features. She’s wearing a white button down with a black tie, and baggy black jeans.

Before you know it, a new glass of wine is shoved into your hands. “Wanna go sit and chat for a bit?” She asked, grabbing herself a glass as well, looking you up and down.

You glance back at your friend, noticing she wasn’t in the booth anymore, not sure of where she went. Looking back at Billie, you nod. “Yeah sure, I’d love that.” Billie grins at your response and grabs onto your hand gently, pulling you towards a dimly lit corner.

“You look great in my jacket, by the way.” She added, as you both sat down at a small table. You sip on your wine, trying to hide the blush forming on your cheeks.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.” You joke, licking the wine off your lips, setting your glass down. Billie lets out a laugh, her eyes twinkling in the soft ambient lighting.

“And would that be a bad thing?” Billie questions, sitting back in her chair. Her legs spreading slightly, eyes flicking up to yours then down to your lips.

The familiar shade of crimson spreads across your face. You couldn’t tell if it was your lowered inhibitions from the wine, but the way she was holding your gaze made a heat start to form in your lower stomach. Biting your lip, you down the rest of your wine. As you finish, you noticed shes only taken a few sips of hers. Her eyes are still trained on you, watching you intently.

You both continue to stare at each other, your eyes speaking what you are too afraid to say. She takes notice and smirks. “Let’s get out of here, yeah? You can come back to mine?” She reaches out for your hand, rubbing small circles on it with her thumb. You nod quickly, biting your lip even harder.

She smiles at your swift agreement, standing up with you. Billie wraps her arm around your back, her hand landing on your waist, guiding you out of the bar. You both exit through the back door, and get into her car quickly, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention.

Sitting in her passenger seat, you shoot your friend a quick text, thanking her for inviting you. Deciding to make an excuse, you add on that you decided to uber home because you didn’t feel well. Setting your phone down, you glance over at Billie. She smiles at you and pulls out of the dimly lit parking lot, resting her hand on your thigh.

The drive seemed much longer than it actually was. The warmth between your legs spread as she gripped onto your thigh, her rings shining under the street lamps. You needed her now, and you couldn’t deny it any longer.

She pulls up to her house, putting her car in park. You both stepped out and walked up to her front door. You gripped onto her arm as she turned the key to unlock it, pushing open the door. She stepped in, opening the door for you.

Before you could process her locking the door, she pushed you gently up against the wall, her breath slightly ragged.

“God, you’re so fucking hot.” Billie whispers, her eyes falling onto your lips, closing the gap between your bodies. Her lips crash into yours, kissing you with pure desperation and fever. Your lips mold with hers, hands falling onto her shoulders, pulling her closer.

You can feel her knee move in between your legs, her hands roaming your body. You throw your head back and whine at the sudden sensation, grinding down on her leg softly.

“Fuck, thats it baby, use me to get off, yeah?” She grunts out, her lips moving to your exposed neck, sucking and biting gently.

Letting out an even louder whine than before, you continue to move your hips against her leg. “Billie, please..” You whimper out as her mouth attacks your neck.

She pulls away momentarily, grabbing onto your wrist and pulling you towards her room. You stumble after her, grinning and biting your lip. Excited to finally be getting what you secretly wanted the whole night.

You both make your way into her room, shutting the door behind yourselves. Billie locks it, walking back over to you. “This is okay with you, right?” She breathes out, her lips red and wet, walking you closer to her bed. The back of your knees hit the bed and you sit down, staring up at her with big eyes.

You grab onto her tie, pulling her body onto yours. “Please..” You plead softly, nodding, as she crawls on top of you. That was the green light she had been waiting for.

Smirking, she trailed kisses down your chest. Her hands roamed under your dress, pushing it up to expose your red lace thong. She grinned as she noticed the wet spot on your underwear.

“That affected by me, huh? You’re so wet for me baby. Such a good girl.” She praises you, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss right below your belly button. Her hands grazing against your wet heat.

You buck your hips up at the minimal contact, throwing your head back against her bed. She pushes your hips back down against the bed, slowly pulling your underwear down and off. Billie tosses them to the side and climbs off of you briefly, undressing everything but her button up and tie. She helps you out of her jacket and your dress, admiring your naked body. Her pupils blown wide.

You sit up slightly, resting back on your elbows, watching her. She moves to her dresser, opening the drawer. You watch her as she pulls out a purple strap, your legs instinctively clenching together.

Billie makes her way back over to the bed, “Want me to fuck you pretty girl? Hm?”

You nod absentmindedly, the heat in your stomach growing even more. Billie grabs onto your hips, pulling you closer to her. She leans down and attaches her lips onto your clit, sucking. You let out a loud moan, gripping onto her sheets.

She continues to suck and lap at your wet heat, burying her face into your cunt. She brought up a finger, slowly circling the tight muscle.

“God, you’re so fucking tight.” Billie mumbles against you, her finger sliding in next to her tongue. You gasp out, your back arching off the bed.

She adds another finger as she feels you relax around her first one, pumping in and out at a steady pace. Her eyes watching you as you writhe in pleasure.

“Look at me.” She curls her fingers perfectly, hitting your sweet spot. Your eyes flutter shut before opening again, looking down at her.

“Good girl.” Billie praises as your eyes meet hers. She pulls her fingers out slowly, spreading your wetness onto her strap. Climbing on top of you, she positions herself at your entrance.

You bite your lip, moaning softly, “Please fuck me Billie, I need you so bad.” You grab onto her tie again, wrapping it around your hand, pulling her impossibly close.

She smirks, “Whatever you want, pretty girl.” She thrusts forward, her strap entering you in one quick motion. You let out an obscenely loud whine, yanking on her tie.

She fucks into you fast, watching your face as you throw your head back in pleasure again. “Taking me so fucking well baby.” She whispers out, as her free hand finds your clit, rubbing small, fast circles.

You moan loudly, feeling her strap hit all the right places. Her thrusts never falter, continuously fucking into you. Your eyes squeeze shut, overwhelmed with pure lust and pleasure.

“Fuck, feels so g-good..” You stutter out, unable to form a coherent sentence. She grins down at you, her thrusts getting even quicker.

“Open your mouth.” Billie demanded, and you instinctively opened your mouth. She smirked at your obedience, spitting directly onto your tongue. Her hand left your clit, moving her fingers towards your mouth, pushing her pointer finger inside against your tongue.

“Next time, you’re gonna use this pretty mouth to eat me out, yeah?” She continues to thrust in and out of your cunt at a rapid pace. Her breathing was heavy, quiet grunts falling off her lips. You nodded, sucking on her finger gently, swallowing around it. You felt a heat building up inside you, your own climax quickly approaching.

Her hips faltered slightly, the strap rubbing up against her own clit with each thrust. Gripping onto her tie still, you let out a loud moan, “Fuck, Im gonna come.” You mumble out around her finger.

“Thats it, come for me, come all over my dick baby.” She begs breathlessly. You let out a final high pitched whine as your back arches off the bed. You clench down around her, gasping out as you ride out your orgasm.

Billie watches you come undone underneath her, her own orgasm washing over her quickly. She grunts out as she grips onto your hips, slowing down her thrusts.

You both pant together as you lay there, her strap still inside of you. She falls on top of your body gently, looking into your eyes. Billie smiles down at you, a blissed out expression on her face. A blush creeps onto your cheeks again, the dark maroon color returning for the final time that evening.

my masterlist

requests are open! <3

#billie eilish #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish smut #huge shout out to maroon by taylor swift for inspiring this #billie x reader #dom billie #wlw #lets go lesbians!!!

479 notes · View notes