#chapter thirty-one the weird | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

screampied · 1 month

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‘ THAT [ GIRL ] IS MINE ! ,

ᡴꪫ sum. university still majorly sucks, and spring break is practically over. time to say goodbye to your dad’s best friend, but before you do—you have a jarring confession to make, and it’s definitely not those three words.

wc. 6.4k

warnings. fem! reader, dad's best friend! toji, age gap (reader is over twenty), booty call, unprotected, size kink, praise, fıngering, cunnılingus (toji eating it from the back), degredation, dumbification, toji's very whipped for you, overstim, squırting.

an. this is the last chapter WOOOOO. thank you to everyone who read dbf! toji. may he return somedayy

girl, are you fucking stupid?

a simple question you couldn’t answer as if your life depended on it. if only you knew the deep consequences you’d face by having some careless fun on spring break. oh, but it’s just a one time thing, it’s just a little fling that won’t mean anything once april’s over. you continue to keep reminding yourself that every time you were with him. toji fushiguro—your father’s sleazy best friend, the guy who was about eight years older than your twenty-two year old self, the guy who was shameless, the guy who literally fingered you underneath the table during dinner, same said guy who makes you clean off his fingers with your tongue like the good obedient girl you were.

maybe you are fucking stupid,

spring break was coming to its inevitable end, meaning it’d be the end of your little fling with mr. fushiguro. oh and you did get caught, your father knows— but let’s not focus on that part, let’s focus on the part on how you were questioning yourself. was this love or just a game? surely it couldn’t be love, ew. toji himself said that he can’t stand relationships. you yourself was too busy with being a studious university student to even consider a significant other. so… what exactly was this peculiar feeling? a good description was a weird stir in your stomach, especially whenever he’s lay his eyes on you. alas, maybe instead of love, the feeling was entirely different.

you know what they say about karma though, it always catches up to you in the long run. oops..?

it was about three thirty in the morning. you were tossing and turning in your sleep. birds could just about be heard outside your window, chirping and chirping away. with an exaggerated sigh, you stare into the beige drywall that coats against your ceiling for a long, long time. no matter how much you tried to delay the inevitable—you had to get up, you just had to get it off your chest.

you should probably not keep this yourself..

but you pondered deeply at what his reaction might be— would he feel the same way, or would he hate you and turn a cold eye … ?

just thinking about it for such a long duration of a time made your stomach churn. at the same time though, whenever you thought about toji for too long . . that happened. you’d get aroused, having your pretty little panties in a twist.

you still question just how your father and him even met. a guy like toji isn’t really a guy you’d stumble across everyday. he mentioned to you on how he was gambling at boat races—you believed that, but still, you always did wanna know more about him.

toji was a very private man though, nothing wrong with that.

you couldn’t help but be a little curious about the man you’ve been screwing with for the past thirteen days now. thirteen days felt more like thirteen long consecutive weeks. like most, your break was supposed to only last five days to a week. it only ended up getting extended because of some kind of altercation at your campus. albeit, you didn’t ever want it to end,

but all good things do come to an end, right?

reaching for your phone, you decide to text him— you didn’t exactly expect a reply despite it being so late but still, you unlock your phone before scrolling for his contact..

< 69 Toji Fushiguro 🎥 >

Today 3:27 AM

hi toji.

u up?

• • •

Yea. Just woke up actually. Why?

lol no reason, i can’t sleep.

i miss u and i need to tell you smth

Oh?

Fuck I miss ya too, girl.

Come over then. you still got my location?

yeah be there in a bit xx

Read 3:29

locking your phone again, you take a quick thorough six minute shower. toji missed you just as much as you missed him— it’s been about a day or two or three that’s passed, of course you two wouldn’t be able to see each other every day.

it was mostly every other day. with spring break coming to a crashing depressing end, this would all be the end of your little spring season fling.

damn.

the drive to toji’s apartment was about maybe nine minutes from you. not exactly far, you’d have him come over to yours but you forgot that your father was literally next door to you. he’s already aware of what was taken place at his own home but again, let’s not focus on that part of the story.

at least not yet.. or ever,

you threw on a simple ample outfit, one of your oversized university hoodies and some leggings. something homely, something comfortable.

the weather was actually pretty decent, a bit humid but not exactly too cold either.

once you arrive at toji’s surprisingly well kept apartment, he met up with you at the door with that same smug grin. “….hey,” is all he says, eyes staring down your body for a while. you take the chance to ogle at him too. even with it being the middle of the night, he still looked handsome. with dark black hair of his a bit ruffled, toji had on nothing but obsidian black colored shorts and a white tee. his muscles, you always did feen over his mammoth-like jacked muscles. he was so toned— a lot taller than you, the epitome of what a real man was. “how was the drive? drive okay?”

“it was okay,” you mutter, stepping into his apartment. he’s holding a half empty can of cheap off brand booze, locking the door behind you as you take in the scenery. you feel a bit of butterflies rummage throughout your tummy as he slings an arm around you. it was like each time you’d meet with him again, he’d get more and more affectionate towards you. facing him, you had a cute abashed smile. “you look sleepy. did i wake you?”

“nah,” he firmly shakes his head, placing his empty can aside. toji takes off the thin coat you wore over your hoodie before hanging it up on the nearby rack for you. “i was ‘bout ‘ta get ready for work but then ya texted me.”

work.

toji never did tell you what he does for a living.

your eyebrows slightly raise. “wha— why? i can wait, just go to work.”

“dollface, really. it’s fine,” he chuckles, his voice a rough low. he leads you towards his bedroom, the bed wasn’t made up although it smelled a lot like him in here. a cheap musk of cologne fills through your nose as you sit down on his bed beside him. toji stretches, the veins in his forearms exposing ever so slightly and it’s so hot. “besides, didn’t feel like clockin’ in anyway. still gotta finish my taxes.”

“oh,” you mumble, completely lost in his gaze as he continues to speak. toji notices you staring and he smirks.

playfully, he pokes at your forehead, a teasing flick with two fingers to snap you out of whatever trance you were in. “. . soooooooo,” toji hums in a raspy pitched tone. his fingers that went against your skin was abnormally warm. “what did you wanna talk ‘ta me about?”

right, that..

suddenly, you felt your thighs squeeze together. toji’s staring at you, awaiting for a response and whilst you smother your glossed lips together, you rub the back of your neck. “oh, it can wait. it’s not that important,” damn, if looks could kill, you’d be screwed. dark green irises focus on your lips, then your eyes before back towards your pursed up lips. toji was quite familiar with your awkward body language, you lean up close to him before dragging a finger down his chest. so sensually, “like i said though, i missed you toji. i go back home tomorrow.”

“you’re lying, doll,” he whispers, letting your finger run down the middle part of his chest. a few bristles of chest hair pokes through his white tank before he raises a brow. “but fine,” and he grabs you to sit right on his lap. instinctively, your arms wrap around his broad neck. the closer you got, the more you got a good whiff of him. his cologne was so strong, it made you dizzy. “i missed ya more. and that’s right, y’er spring break’s ‘bout to end,” and you almost moan at feeling his clammy hands squeeze against your thighs. “excited to go back?”

“no,” you grumble, a grouse hiding underneath your tone. he slyly smiles, a thumb skimming against your skin. “i don’t wanna leave yet.”

“well girl then jus’ stay,” he rolls his eyes, forever a sassy, sassy man. “and, i find it kinda amusing. the whole point of your spring break was to visit your father ‘n you basically spent it all with me,” and his eyes run down your body, pulling you up close to kiss the outside of your neck. “ain’t complainin’ though.”

you pout, he had a point. “i can’t stay, my campus is like five hours away,” and you moan a bit from the softness of his lips meeting against your tender skin. “maybe.. you could visit me though.”

“eh. we’ll see.”

moments pass before you find yourself making out with toji. it lasts for a good while, ten precise minutes exactly. his hands free-for-all all over your body, the warmth of his hot breath goes against yours. the bitter taste of rich booze lingers on his breath, it’s chemically and it almost burns, yet it’s addictive. toji’s taste alone was addictive. you moan, feeling him ghost a big hand between your thighs to locate your arising heat. your leggings could only conceal your arousal for so long. his eyes were barely open, half-lidded as another hand travels up your hoodie. stubby fingers of his drag against your skin in such a way that you couldn’t help but grind against his lap.

toji grunts, deepening the passionate kiss—his tongue was so sweet, occasionally sucking against yours. perhaps he did miss you more than you missed him. with his head slightly cocked back to a certain angle, you start to hear and feel your own breaths shudder.

everything was going so fast yet slow, he parts his lips a bit further before you feel a hand of his reach all the way down between your legs. after a while of mashing teeth and sucking against tongues together, he pulls away. “y’er still as nasty as i remember. walkin’ around with no fuckin’ panties, huh?”

“nasty for you,” you whine, feeling his rough hands tug all over your body. swiftly, a hand snakes underneath your thighs. he runs a single thumb down your soaked slit and he guffaws. with a sly grin, he leans in to kiss more against your neck. so tender, he knew all the right spots to make you whimper out and squirm. his balmy hot breath resuming to collide against your skin made you bite your lip, an arm still throwing around his neck. “you don’t like me wearing panties anyway.”

“well yeah,” he sneers, his touch going further against your pre-soaked clit. you were already a bit drenched and he hums. “i steal them from ya regardless. my ‘lil souvenir. besides, what’s the point of wearin’ those things when y’er always this fuckin’ soaked.”

you moan, feeling him insert a single finger inside. his fingers were always so thick, stretching you out probably even better than his dick ever could. almost as if your entrance was elastic with how good it stretches. it’s his middle finger, then it sporadically turns into two— two thickset fingers prodding inside your slick heat.

you coat his digits so well with your syrupy arousal, he glances at you with a simper as you clamp around them both at once. “you get more nastier for me every time,” he murmurs, slowly swirling his fingers inside you. you’re clinging onto his neck tightly, feeling that strain in your lungs drag out as you pant. “drivin’ around this wet, girl i ‘oughta spank ya.”

“do it then.”

he glares at you before you gasp. toji lightly shoves you into the bed and you flop down, uttering out a soft ‘oof.’ landing on the sound mounds of your chest, he yanks down your leggings fully before meanly kissing the right cheek of your ass with his palm. “do it then,” he mocks you, pitching his naturally gruff tone to your own. “shut the fuck up,” and the sting feels good, his fingers were now out of you and again, you pout. clamping around nothing now, you were quite really just arched over his bare knee. “have ya been touchin’ y’erself lately? tell me.”

“no,” you lie, and that earns another spank— you moan out, the feeling of his palm was so hot at first touch. quite literally, the sting made you twinge before you grip onto his bulky thighs. “haven’t touched myself, swear.”

“oh bye, don’t bullshit me, sweetheart,” toji mutters, and you’re just dangling over his knee.

occasionally, the coolish air against his room would waft right against your skin. “known ya for a good what, two weeks? i can tell y’er lying,” and the way his voice pitches— it’s so rough, gravelly.

the baritone in his voice never fails to make you wet, so deep. you didn’t really know a good way to describe toji’s voice, all you knew was that it was raspy as hell. heavily and utterly raspy to the point where even him whispering against your ear was enough to have you drenched. “don’t like ya touchin’ her when ‘m not around,” he clicks his tongue, caressing your bare stinging ass. you’re panting, aching for him to just hurry up, to do something. toji cackles, noticing from how impatient you were simply from your body language. “aw. am i talkin’ too much for the pretty girl? you bein’ over my knee not enough to satisfy ya?”

you sigh, wriggling your ass a bit and he spanks it again just to watch the recoil bounce against your skin.

“t— tojiiii. just fuck me already.” you grumble, you didn’t really care how whiny you sounded.

it was late at night and you were horny. that was for sure pretty much all you knew. besides, despite it being about two to three days since you last saw him, yeah.. maybe that wasn’t even long of an absence— but you did kind of miss toji.

more importantly, you missed his little friend between his legs.

“i’ll fuck ya when i wanna,” he gruffs. you whine once he sprawls your legs open a bit more. toji stares at your ass, spreading them to see your sloppy cunt opening for him. a sweet little meet and greet. so wet, you’re still laid over his lap before he leans down. “shh. listen to her,” is all he says. whilst he’s inching his face closer, two exact seconds later you feel toji’s saliva trickle into your pulsating entrance. oh. he spat on your pussy, he was quite direct with it too. he then gathers a long stringy wad of gossamer-like spit before spitting it right between your swollen folds. you bite your lip hard, forgetting how much of a nasty man he was. “yeah she’s missed the fuck outta me.”

toji was purely fluent in pussy talk. it was common for him. he’d always refuse to your cunt as ‘she’ as if she had a name or something.

no shame, shameless— toji brings a thumb towards your clit, rubbing against it just so you could hear the squelches you made yourself.

“you used a toy, baby?” he hums, sliding his tongue against his lips, against the scar that slants against his skin oh-so-sexily..

“y-yeah,” you whimper, the coldness of his saliva making you shudder within his hold. your breathing became more rapid as you tighten the hold on his legs. “magic wand. i jus’ wanted to try it.”

“tch… magic fuckin’ wand,” he snarls, actually sounding quite offended.

continuing to drag and skim his fat thumb down your slit, you mewl out. you’re effortlessly soaking his single slender digit with such sheeny amounts of your sweet. “bet ya didn’t even know what the fuck you were doin.’ how long it take ‘ta make you finish?”

you’re panting now, trying to recall your lewd moments with your sweet beloved hitachi, it was expensive too.

you bought it from some shady link online, one of your friends recommended it to you so you shrugged it off, saying why not. besides, you hardly ever have time to play with yourself anyway. even more now that you had toji.

“like … maybe thirty minutes.” you exhale deeply, the fast paced strokes of his fingers making your eyes almost roll back. so so good, all he was really doing was skimming his fingers against your sopping wet entrance— barely even doing anything, yet you were still a mess.

toji chuckles, making you get off his lap before laying you face first on the mattress. he grabs your waist, pulling your ass upward to stick out before he gets up close for a nice direct view. “aw. thirty minutes? thirty minutes when it can only take me five with my tongue?”

“f-fuckkk.” you start to babble, his warm breath fanning all against your exposed cunt.

it cools against your skin, sending each nerve that resides inside of your entrance to spiral uncontrollably. toji had you arched all over, arched over like some slut.

to be fair, if the shoe fits you might as well wear it.

“dunno if ya deserve to be eaten out,” he speaks in a low undertone. your dilated pupils roll way back at his simple touch.

he teasingly brings his tongue towards your pussy, it’s retting, sloppily so. toji drags two fingers and you eagerly coat his digits with such salaciously, lewd arousal. “mhm. look at that, fuckin’ drenched. my favorite waterpark,” and he spits against your folds once more before snickering darkly. “jus’ thinkin’ you used those useless hands on this pretty pussy makes me ill.”

oh, you’re about to lose it..

he was stalling, more talking and less eating.

instead, it should have been vice versa.

you’re a mover, writhing in his lap, still hunched over with a cute arch before he spanks your ass.

“little girl, cut that shit out,” he grunts and abruptly, you feel the coldness of his flat tongue finally lap against your pussy.

immensely, your mouth forms into an ‘o’. if it was anything toji fushiguro knew how to do well, it was that he knew how to eat.

he ate you out like it was the end of the fucking world, as if your pussy was the only food remaining left in stock.

you gnaw on your bottom lip further, gasping once he wastes no time to dig in.

. . slow slow sluuuurps,

he makes sure you hear how wet you were on his mouth. just downright filthy, his tongue lays itself flat before he nibbles all against your throbbing clit.

“o-oh my god, toji, hngh,” you’d babble out in pathetic sweet sobs. with his tongue scrapping against your entrance, creating suction with his mouth had you stupid.

as your maw dramatically drops, he’s eating you from the back. there’s a concise dull moment where he pauses. with big two rough hands, he spreads your ass open fully. “f-fuuuck.” you moan, feeling him blow his warm breath all against your puffed folds.

from behind, you hear his sexy low titter before he resumes—yet this time, he lolls his pink tongue all the way out, so fucking long..

and as he does, he licks from the very bottom of your cunt until he’s reaching near your puckering hole— he’s never acknowledged that spot before, your ass.

your eyes widen, a clamoring gasp exits from your lips before he spits against it, lathering his tongue everywhere. he likes it wet, more importantly though, he likes it nasty.

“arch that back more for me, bend girl, bend,” he coos in a muffled tone— purely speaking with his mouth full. his stubble tickles against your pussy and your back voluntarily moves itself forward. a curve, he found it so appealing,

so . . amusing.

“there mphm we go baby, good girl. keep that head on the bed. ‘m fuckin’ starved.”

you’re clinging tight onto one of toji’s satin covered pillows, feeling his tongue roam everywhere. it knew no bounds. your heart starts to race at a more rapid speed the second he sneakily dips his tongue back into your needy clit.

he passionately sucks against the clitoral hood before using a hand to smack your ass every single time you squirm.

after about probably the nth time of his lewd escapades with his tongue, he starts to prod his calloused fingertips near your entrance once more. his fingers featuring his tongue, oh you were really no match.

“imgonnacumimgonnacumimgonna—”

“mhm, bet ya are,” he rasps, a deep chuckle dragging out of his throat.

the way your body responds to him was so cute. “keep that ass up ‘n y’er face down,” he orders, earning another vicious smack on the rear from him. you’re moaning, feeling yourself start to spasm. toji occasionally breaks his lips away to kiss near your ankle, your thighs, anywhere but your cunt and he knows how much you hated that.

the teasing— he’d purposely stop just to move his lips elsewhere, watching you fidget in such obscene anticipation. “don’t fuckin’ cum yet.”

“but—”

“but shit. you heard me,” he groans, bringing his mouth back towards between your legs. you whine, feeling him roll out his tongue before slurping up such a good amount of your syrupy taste.

with your toes curling, stomach seizing, you couldn’t stop shaking.

so damn good, his buttony nose rubs against your folds and it tickles for a split second. the stimulation has your mind going for a loop, you even slip your hands underneath your sweatshirt just to touch on your sensitive perky nipples. “wait for me. hold it, yeah.”

but of course, you didn’t listen,

your body had other plans.

it was inevitable, your orgasm ignored toji anyway, you’re ponderously throbbing.

the pulse between your thighs only grow more briskly before you realize you’re drooling all over his bedsheets.

oh, the feeling felt so delicious, your jaw remains open and you feel so much pressure. so much, his tongue still grazes against your slit before you shriek out, gasping for whatever air was left. it was quick, very very quick.

it’s speed..

it’s tempo was like lightning speed—a bolt that flashes within a blink of an eye, concentric circles steadily building up within your lower abdomen pooling up with heat before it just snaps,

you came.

“o-oh fuck, f-fuuuck, toji,”

suddenly, the room grows quiet. you knew toji didn’t like for you to finish early—especially finishing after he tells you to wait, but oh well.

you couldn’t help it, and the orgasm he just gave you was so good, mouth watering. with weak legs that could barely stand up it’s on own, you inhale a single sharp breath before you’re flipped over quickly.

“the fuck did i just tell you?”

“s-sorry,” you giggle, sprawled all on his bed. your eyes immediately meet the gaze of his shorts, they were half on. he’s got a bulge going on, a hard one at that. his black boxers briefly stick out and it’s so attractive—you catch a glimpse of his happy trail from his tank top that was pulled up just a bit, exposing a bit of his skin. sharp v-line, slim snatched waist.

slut..

god, he was so jacked. the more you stare at his sculptured body, the more you fantasized about how he could just toss you around the—

“oh, is somethin’ funny to you?” he utters lowly, and his tone— he sounds ticked off, he’s barely even raising his tone, projecting it but you still hear the slight rasp to it. you just got even more soaked. “was gonna let ya ride me but i don’t wanna stare at a brat right now.”

“h-huh?” you reply, and then your face was met against the plush mattress again.

you lewdly mewl out a whimper once he spanks your ass, a hand grabbing onto your hip.

“don’t act like ya can’t here me, girl. bring that ass up a bit more,” and you gasp, feeling him drag your hips a bit closer towards his slim waist. “yeah.” he breathes, having a gentle yet firm grip on you.

rough coarse fingertips glide up against your own hips as you feel him take a second to align himself. fuck, you missed this.

you missed him.

in the midst of toji already pulling down his shorts and boxers— he then grabs ahold of his thick cock, giving it a few solid strokes.

he was so hard, leaky tip glistening with pre that he wished he made you lick the top off.

but it was far too late, he just wanted to be inside, just as much as you wanted him inside. the crown of his cock was so fat, even with toji being slow to ease himself inside, he’s still practically splitting you open.

“shit, i missed this,” he grunts in a hoarse tone whilst he’s going inside you.

“f-fuck,” you bawl up the creamy white sheets into your fists.

you almost forgot just how big he was, despite it only being a good three days without feeling him stretch you out.

toji groans, feeling the subtle tightness of your walls adjust to him like always— it usually lasts a second or two. he’s furthering himself in, already about to bottom out.

he’s already niiice and snug. a perfect fit,

every. single. time.

toji rarely does doggy with you because he prefers staring at your face— solely to make fun of your little facial expressions. but whenever you were bent over for him on all fours, it was simply an experience you never wanted to end. “oh fuck m-me,” you croak, feeling him yank harshly against the hood of your hoodie. you bump back against him and that’s when he unhurriedly starts to create an unkempt, sloppy pace.

it was rhythmic, he starts off slow before strenuously pounding into you.

churning up your sweet savory insides like butter, you clamp around him so good that it makes his abs tense up. “mhm,” he tugs tighter against the fabric that was thrown over you from the torso up. dark eyes of his flicker toward your ass, each time he moves, your ass moves.

in full compatibility, the sheer skin slaps was brutal. your head was spinning like a merri-go-‘round, strained inhales pulling your heaving lungs every few milliseconds. “. . girl,” toji groans, and you moan once he gives your ass a spank again for probably the umpteenth time today. his voice, every syllable he drags out in that deep hoarsely voice of his had you so soaked. “fuck back against me, c’mon. ‘s a two way street, baby.”

“y-you’re so fuckin’ big though,” you whine, pawing into the soft cushions of his comforter.

“awww,” he utters in a faux, sympathetic tone.

he leans against you, so close to where he’s basically in prone bone— no more doggy.

he’s so deep that the tip of his dick prods all against your secluded g-spot. toji’s hefty weight hovers against your bare ass and you moan melodically. “i’m big, yeah?” and a colossal, veiny hand of his wraps around your throat. gentle, barely any pressure but a good amount to make you whine again. “but y’er doin’ so good, was jus’ about to praise you but you don’t want praises, huh,” and you’re falling in love time and time again with his sensual yet reckless rhythm. the way the bed rocks and shakes in harmony, you’re at a lost of words.

speechless, breathless, every -less word by this point.

he was hitting you so deep, every angle.

so thorough,

his hips were sharp— your moans grow louder the moment he gets right up against you, a hand gripping into your hair rigidly. mercilessly, a hand lightly digs into your scalp as he’s holding your head up. toji’s damn near balls deep now, making sure you feel every consecutive thrust. “some nerve, textin’ me at three am just to fuck this sloppy cunt,” and his hot breath fans against your neck. you whine once you feel his tongue slide against your sensitive collarbone. so deep—you were sure he’s just jackhammering his cock into you by this point. each movement was pivotal, he was precise with the way his hips snapped against you. whiplash got you good, you’re currently just a babbling mess listening to his crude words. “but i bet ‘s more than that, yeah? you wanted to tell me somethin’ so just tell me.”

“n-not yet,” a sweet moan dies out your throat.

toji rolls his eyes— this girl, he’s thinking in his head. you were testing his patience, a stubborn little thing. one of the many things he’s liked about you. “fuck, h-harder toji. harder.”

“sloooow? i can do slow,” he replies in a deriding tone, and his deep thrusts turn into satirical unserious, slow pumps. you whine, he lets go of your hair and you just plop down on your chest. he knew what you wanted, he knew how you liked to be fucked, and yet he was just being a tease.

toji fucking fushiguro for you.

he’s always been rough with you, treating you like nothing more than a mere rag doll at times. there’s been sweet affectionate moments too, rarely, but it has its moments.

toji’s infatuation with you only grows, the more he spends time with you the more he even starts to question himself.

you’ve got him whipped.. precisely with your pussy, yes, but whipped in another way completely. he didn’t know how to describe it, mainly because it was nothing to describe,

indescribable.

he couldn’t put anything to words—especially whenever he was deep in your guts, mashing your cunt around with his cock like homemade dough. kneading it with his tip,

stretch, mold, ply, repeat..

he’s doing all that with his dick. he sucks his teeth, a tsk escapes from his mouth before he spanks your ass— bringing you right back to reality.

“fuckin’ gonna milk the shit out of me,” he groans, his hips all sloppy and vigorous.

toji’s so close to you that by now, he brings a foot up to press against the back of your neck. you gasp, really feeling just how deep he was inside your cunt.

the wool of his sock presses against your neck as your face was smushed against the satiny sheets. “mhm, that’s it girl, take it. take that shit. milk my fuckin’ cock, fuuuck.”

his groans get louder, you’re so wet it’s ludicrously sloshing against him and you’re all doe-eyed and dumb.

emphasis on dumb, not a single thought was embedded into your brain.

as his hips keenly buck against you, you’re breathing shallowly, trying to keep a good momentum against him before you whine.

you were close again, yet this time— something else was approaching,

something more . . provocative.

your legs shake and shake, your jaw aches from how much your teeth is shattering amongst each other before you feel him grab onto your wrist.

he pins it behind your back whilst he’s still fucking you raw.

broad, clammy hands of his roam down your voluptuous body, taking in to snag a feel of your curves, your pretty physique, everything..

beads of sweat droplets start to race down the sides of toji’s naturally dark brows— he huffs and puffs, the girth of his dick only stretching out inside of you even further.

you’re a babbling mess, the arch in your back was so cute that it makes him throb. you feel the throb that lingers from his dick, it pulsates at such a meteoric pace that it has you pulsing in response.

“where do ya want it,” he grumbles with a soft vexing pout on his lips. toji was trying his best to maintain composure—but he was flustered, the more he leers down your back, down your pretty structured spine, the more he’s starting to adapt this unexplainable feeling. “best fuckin’ tell m—”

“inside,” you purr out, your voice all strained and a raucous from the immense amounts of moans that left your throat. “i-inside, wanna feel you again, ‘n again, ‘again..”

toji snickers, swiping a tongue against his lips before he slows himself down for you to adjust.

you’re preparing to finish with him— he coos right up against your ear, sticking two fingers in your mouth. “finish with me, princess. ‘m givin’ you this one chance,” and he deepens his voice all the way down, balls so deep inside that you feel a faint gape stretch you whole.

you’re compressing him down tight with your gummy walls before you feel the slimy friction of pure sweat sticking against your own skin. “you gonna be a good girl ‘n cum on my cock? or a bad girl who’s not even listenin’ to a damn thing ‘m saying.. ?”

“c-cum, toji, mphm,” you choke out a sweet desperate wail, feeling one of his bulky arms wrap around your torso. “wanna cum.”

as you spoke, your words were merely muffled from his thick digits shoving inside of your sloppy, needy mouth. his warmth, once it skids against your skin, it never ever leaves.

you think you’re about to cum but instead, you gush out.

violently, electricity courses through your veins. vibration after vibration pulses throughout your body and you’re hysterical,

it’s so abrupt, so intense..

you’re squirting, coating his dick with your honeydew arousal from the base down.

he chuckles at your body’s initial response, how you’re finding it impossible to stay still. you’re clenching around his shaft still, mouth all open, eyes wide as big as restaurant saucers.

swooning, you’re swooning from his length and that’s when you whimper once he groans right in your ear.

the raspiness, it’s got you drenched— drenched like a faucet, the sensation was beyond pleasurable.

toji ends up following seconds after, it hits him harder. like a truck, it comes at full speed before you’re met with such absurd milky ropes of his seed. it shoots out quick, but it’s thick. you get quiet, hearing the sloshing spurts trickle its way inside of you. “f-fuck,” he stutters, a shaky breath following as he slides his fingers out of your mouth. a trailing glimmering cobweb of your own spit drags from his two fingers as he’s dumping knots and knots of cum into your sweet, starving cunt. “saved so much f’r you, feel it deep ‘n y’er womb, doll?”

“y-yes.” you swallow, a multitude of moans emit from you before he slowly pulls out.

oh, the sight of it all. one of toji’s favorite parts was to simply gawk at the mess he created, taking in the mess he made you.

a messy girl.

the messiest, your chest feels tight and you’re heaving.

he licks his lips, staring at your ass with hazy eyes. his own cum oozes out of your hole and he just wants to lick it, plug it back into you and give you another thick load.

that’ll come soon enough— as much as he had stamina equivalent to a near stallion, he needed a little break. his chest felt like it was about to explode.

“fuck,” he collapses against his side of the bed, reaching towards his thigh to scratch it.

as if on instinct, you crawl towards him, an arm wraps around you and he pulls you closer. your head presses against his chest. you hear his rapid heart beat and he murmurs out a husky, “good girl,” and he leans in to kiss the crown of your head. “gimme a minute though. ‘m not as young as i used to be, y’know.”

you giggle, a simper stretching across your face as the time passes.

instantaneously, it gets quiet for a moment before you suddenly remember why you even came here . . for one last time.

“toji,” you utter, attempting to catch your breath.

you were still heaving with lungs full of build up oxygen, panting a bit before he glances down at you with that unreadable, naturally stern expression.

a hand of yours strums down his pecs seductively, playing with the curly chest hair that remains stuck against his skin. “i’ll um . . tell you what i wanted to say earlier.”

“let me go first.”

with your eyebrows slightly furrowing, you glance up at him and he stares up at the ceiling before back at you. “about a week back, at y’er dad’s place, i told ya i loved you,” and his breath hitches for a moment— even saying something as sentimental as that made him cringe.

you figure he was being serious though because his sudden eye contact never left yours. “you never gave me an answer back.”

“. . . oh,” you sheepishly say, remembering the exact encounter he was referring to. you then lean up to toji, gingerly planting your lips against the right side of his mouth where his tender scar resides. “you didn’t hear me? i said i love you too, toji.”

his chest feels all warm and mushy, you love him?

“you do?” he replies, being taken aback. this entire situation was messy as is, but again, they do say the heart knows what it wants.

you nod, repeating yourself before pulling him into a quick three second kiss. “i love you, toji.”

. . .

. . . is what he thought you was gonna say.

far from it actually, you’re sat in the passenger seat of toji’s car before you lightly tap him on the shoulder. he’s parked, slouched back against his seat before he snaps out of his erotic phantasm. he was dropping you off back home,

oh right.

home.

“toji? did you even hear a word i just said?”

“huh? yeah, you said you loved me too.”

“no … i didn’t. what?” you scrunch up your face, the most perplexed expression of all.

that was nothing you said, with a sheepish expression, you mutter out the words he’d never thought he’d hear you say. “toji, i said i’m pregnant.”

. .

happy spring fucking break.

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nereidprinc3ss · 1 month

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do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him.

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye.

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign.

You look at it.

And then you set your phone down.

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness.

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder.

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside.

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes.

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment.

He looks good. Almost too good.

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek.

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head.

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him.

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully.

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.”

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek.

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best.

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body.

You cover his hand with your own.

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion.

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies.

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks.

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense.

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this.

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy.

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel.

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm.

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him.

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you.

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly.

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds.

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no.

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful.

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly.

“Yes, please.”

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting.

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine.

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it.

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for.

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings.

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present.

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing.

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster.

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem.

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest.

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place.

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand.

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair.

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him.

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful.

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again.

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don��t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you.

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame.

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you.

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul.

“Spencer?”

“Hm?”

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin.

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential.

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands.

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind.

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK.

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake.

He knows.

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity.

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like.

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before.

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it?

Maybe you have it all wrong.

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you.

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick.

24 hours go by.

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up.

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure.

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off.

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking.

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep.

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed.

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone.

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said.

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room.

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while.

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs.

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones.

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks.

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble.

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no.

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly.

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence.

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans.

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure. After a pause, he sighs in defeat.

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown.

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless.

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up.

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones. It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic.

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand.

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket.

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter.

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges.

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it.

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it.

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer.

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing.

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?”

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you.

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?”

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that.

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before.

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft.

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest.

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows.

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts.

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning.

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration.

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous.

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them.

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit.

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice.

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making.

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now.

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that.

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers.

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute.

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base.

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut.

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock.

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready—” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.”

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk.

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump.

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment.

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry.

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!”

He knows.

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist.

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding.

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease.

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more.

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone.

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide.

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else.

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you.

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here.

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength.

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?”

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink.

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous.

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue.

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared.

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out.

“You regret your first time?”

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does.

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash.

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins.

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same.

You want to scream bloody murder.

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse.

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence.

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back.

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me.

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later.

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was.

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help.

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does.

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound.

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more.

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right.

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here.

“Goodnight.”

part five

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic

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lemonlover1110 · 6 months

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𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 8] Megumi's Baseball Game

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Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

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You’re more tired than you’d like to be. A week passes and Megumi’s baseball games approaches, and you’re thinking of skipping out on it. It’s not like he’ll miss you a lot. Staying home sounds tempting, but then you think about how going to his game gives you an excuse to go out to eat. And even if he won’t miss you, he’ll appreciate having you there.

After much pondering, you decide to call Toji. You’ll be going to the same place after all, you don’t want to take public transportation nor do you want to spend extra money on a taxi. The phone doesn’t ring twice before he picks up.

“Hello?” He answers, and regret begins to consume you as you hear his voice. Do you really want to see Toji? Sit in the car with him for that long? You stay silent for a moment, and Toji repeats himself.

“Hi, Toji.” You respond, and you debate on hanging up right away. A butt dial? Would he buy that?

“Hi, baby. Is everything okay? Is there something wrong?” He asks, doubting that you’d willingly call him. Every second passes slowly as he waits for your answer.

“I’m going to Megumi’s game… Can you pick me up?” You ask, and Toji doesn’t waste a moment to answer.

“Yes. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” Which takes you by surprise since you thought the game was a bit later. You hang up and go to your room to change into something that’s not your pajamas– But something comfortable nonetheless.

You won’t put effort into your look, you shouldn’t. You’re just going to watch Megumi play a baseball game, and you’ll be with your ex-husband. You shouldn’t put any effort into your look, but you do. You wear just a tad bit of makeup and put on a cute outfit. You definitely put in a bit of effort even if you didn’t consciously intend to.

Toji knocks on your door earlier than the time he had given you, and luckily you finish getting ready right at that moment. You open the door for him, and he looks more relaxed than usual, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a long sleeve black compression shirt. It’s much different than his usual business wear.

“Are you ready to go?” Toji asks, and you nod your head in response. You know he won’t comment on how pretty you look, on how the shade of pink really goes well with your skin tone, on how you’re literally glowing– Toji has never been the type to really praise your looks.

You walk to his car and get in, where a silent car ride begins. You think about speaking first, but you bite your tongue. You’ll feel like when you were married, constantly trying to start a one-sided conversation that’ll lead nowhere. If he wants to talk, he needs to start the conversation himself.

“So um… Is your morning sickness getting better?” Toji clears his throat, deciding to use his voice. There’s no point for all the silence, it eats him alive, yet, he doesn’t want to put on any music. He wants to hear your voice because he rarely hears it anymore. He wishes he had videos of you talking so he could hear your voice when he feels like it’s faded in his short memory.

“Not really.” You answer. Of all topics that he could bring up, that’s certainly the last one that you want to talk about. Instead of leaving him with the dry response, you change the topic to something else in your pregnancy that’s been bugging you. “I’ve been having some really weird cravings lately.”

“Like what?” He asks.

“Last night I wanted bacon drizzled in caramel… And it still sounds so good right now.” You share, and he scrunches his nose up, slightly disgusted. That doesn’t sound too appetizing. Yet he still says,

“Whenever you want something, call me and I’ll try to see what I can do.” Which surprises you. You weren’t expecting him to say that, and it brings a small smile to your lips. You know why he says it, why he’s suddenly part of a man that you wish you would’ve had as your husband. But you still smile, feeling a flake of happiness in you.

“The laundry detergent was also smelling so good–” You begin, but he cuts you off.

“If you want to drink laundry detergent, do it after you have the baby.” He says, which makes you chuckle. You feel as he slowly grows accustomed to the idea of your pregnancy, how he slowly grows excited at the thought of becoming a father again. It makes you happier than you’d like. You were set on having your baby on your own, raising them alone, yet you feel happy when Toji becomes happy about his baby.

You get to the parking lot of the baseball field, and you find that the game has already started. You follow Toji to take a seat, and you sit quietly amongst a group of rowdy parents and teenagers– It’s a high school baseball game (not even varsity at that), it can’t be that serious. But you do feel the excitement when Megumi goes up to pitch, and you’re smiling ear to ear as you watch him. You do cheer him on, but you aren’t as loud as the rest. It encourages Toji to do the same, but he doesn’t do much, he just whistles.

“I hope I’m not too late.” You’re startled by Toji’s friend, Shiu, as he approaches where you sit. He takes a seat behind you, and just by catching a glimpse of his face, you’re pissed off. Sure, Shiu was very helpful when he helped you move, but you’re still pissed that he left you with Toji of all people.

Toji greets his buddy while you ignore him. You don’t want to talk to Shiu, and you don’t have to either. No one will force you to talk to Shiu.

“I don’t think Megumi noticed you were missing.” Toji comments, turning his attention back to the game. Shiu smacks the back of Toji’s head, and Toji rolls his eyes. It’s their usual banter, of course you won’t pay much attention to them. Toji throws his arm over your shoulder, and brings you into his embrace, which you don’t fight.

“It’s weird to find you here.” Shiu speaks up. You’re not together anymore… He understands why you’re here, you have your own bond with Megumi that’s separate from your relationship with Toji, but why is he throwing his arm over you and why aren’t you pushing him away? You don’t answer though, you clearly don’t want to talk to him.

“I forgot to tell you, Shiu. We’re having a baby.” Toji announces, and Shiu’s eyes go wide. He wasn’t expecting that. He was expecting a lot of stuff but certainly not that. Many questions come into his head, but it’s best for him to stay quiet. But he has to ask one question that’ll eat him up alive if he doesn’t–

“Are you two back together?” He asks, and you get Toji’s arm off your shoulder.

“No. We’re not back together.” You answer, and Toji glares at Shiu. Shiu bites his tongue, knowing that this isn’t the time or place to ask all the questions that flood his mind. What the hell are you going to do?

You watch the rest of the game in silence. When it’s done, you and Toji approach Megumi. He’s with his friends so it’s awkward. When he finally turns his attention to you, he leans in for a hug which you’re reluctant to return since he’s all sweaty. But you still hug him.

“You had a great game, Megumi. You did such a great job.” You praise him, and he smiles at you.

“How are you doing? I haven’t heard from you much, just what dad has to say… But I don’t trust him all that much.” He says, a chuckle leaving your lips at his comment.

“I’ve been doing good, Megumi. But I want to know how you’re doing? How’s school?” You begin to chat with him, and Toji listens in. He taps his foot on the ground, his patience slowly running out. Sure, it’s nice to see that you two have a bond and whatnot but it’s boring for him to just stand idle.

“How about we go out for food and you two can chat there? Shiu is also waiting for us.” Toji cuts off the conversation, doubting that he can stand still for another minute.

“I actually have plans to go out to eat with my friends.” Megumi says, and Toji frowns as he crosses his arms.

“With whose permission?” Toji responds. You usually don’t get involved when similar issues happen, you did once and Toji reminded you that you weren’t Megumi’s parent. But today is different, mainly because Toji is trying to earn your forgiveness, and you use it to your advantage.

“You can go, Megumi. Have fun.” Your arm intertwines with Toji’s, and you give him doe eyes as you look up at him. “Give him some money, Toji.”

Toji huffs as he reaches for his wallet. He gives Megumi some money, and you say your goodbyes before walking away. You know you shouldn’t have stepped in, but Toji won’t scold you for it, especially when your arms are intertwined. You let go of him after a couple of steps since your work with helping Megumi is done.

Your stomach growls, and it’s loud and clear, making your face grow warm of embarrassment. You still smile and say, “Let’s go out to eat.”

“Is that why you sent Megumi off? So we could eat alone?” Toji asks, and it fuels his ego. You have a smirk on your face when you tell him,

“What about Shiu? Are you just going to leave him all alone?”

“To hell with him.” He scoffs. “He’s a grown man, I didn’t even invite him here. I’m not paying for his food.”

“You can convince him to pay yours. Use the fact that you’re having a baby, guilt trip him.” You give him some useful advice, especially since you don’t want to be all alone with him. You don’t trust yourself a lot, especially not lately. Not because you’ve forgiven him and want to get back with him, but because you’re hormonal and don’t trust your body to not make a sudden move.

“You’re right… Let’s do that.” Toji says, his hand going up in the air and waving at Shiu before he calls out, “Hey, Shiu! Let’s go out to eat!”

#toji x y/n #toji zenin #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #daddy toji #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji x you #dilf toji #toji fushiguro x you #toji fanfic #toji fic

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sixosix · 24 days

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BABY, CAN WE DANCE THROUGH AN AVALANCHE? | LYNEY

notes 1.5k words, aether and lyney have a talk :o

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They watch in stunned silence as you storm off, ice materializing where you go. To Lyney, it’s an all-too-familiar sight. He’s seen it before: your back turned on him, and his body frozen from not just the frost but fear. Why didn’t you say it back?

Aether is able to snap out of it quickly, wiping off his hurt for the sake of chasing after you.

“Y/N!” he calls out, moving to run, but he couldn’t get too far.

Lyney whips an arm in front of him. “Don’t.”

To everyone’s surprise, it’s Lyney who says it. Lynette stares at her brother, bewildered—how, of all times, does he choose to surrender now? If anything, they expected Lyney to be the one to chase after you first. Why didn’t you say it back? But Lyney has his eyes trained on Aether, cold and calculating.

None of this would’ve happened if I never met you.

“What did she mean by that, Traveler?”

Lyney tips his head as far as it can go, blood rushing to his head and leaving him a little dizzy. To his dismay, the loveseat stays firmly in place. It would’ve been better if he fell—perhaps it would’ve hurt less than whatever the hell you two have going on.

“Are you still sulking?” Lynette asks, sitting beside him and jostling the seat.

Lyney grunts.

Lynette sips her tea, her tail flicking against his arm in a gesture of comfort. The air no longer held the tense chill in the warmth of their home, but they could still feel it. Lynette could hide it with her face, but her ears were tucked—she was nervous.

Aether’s in their home. Lyney is unhappy about this arrangement and is not afraid to show it. He doesn’t spare the Traveler a glance, doesn’t give him words of comfort. Aether has been obediently silent so far, which was somewhat weird. Lyney had been expecting Aether to rub it on his face that Lyney had been—for a lack of better words—dumped. Instead, he sits there by the chair they pulled from the dining table, looking like a distressed puppy.

“Are we not going to do anything?” Aether asks, which is the question they’ve all been thinking in their heads.

“We will,” Lyney says. Of course they will. Just not like this. He has watched you leave before, and you have returned to him eventually—he can be patient again. This is just far too delicate right now.

It has only been about thirty minutes, at most. Lyney already has a plan, and it’s not his most favorite, but he can’t face you at the moment. Or, instead, it’s you who can’t face him at this moment.

Lynette is aware of his plan, even without him saying anything. Aether obviously doesn’t have the advantage of twin telepathy, so he sits there wondering, distressed, and confused.

“I know it’s a little too late to ask this, but who exactly is Y/N to you two?” asks Aether, his voice loud in the room's dead silence.

“It’s a long story,” Lynette says.

“Would it change anything if I told you?” Lyney challenges.

“To me, it would change something,” answers Aether, open and frustratingly honest.

Lyney lowers his gaze. “Then listen. At least now you’ll understand what you got yourself into.”

When you left the House, you also left an unsettling silence that jarred Lyney even to this day; he can’t visit so freely and not bear the weight of your disappearance. It was eerie and dark, and everyone was afraid to even speak your name for the first few days—like you were dead, like you weren’t to be seen again, and even the thought of that pained Lyney like no other.

The House was no longer your home; he had to accept that eventually. But it was fun and beautiful when you were still a part of it, and he would never choose to forget nor act like it never happened, as fleeting as it was.

When Lyney first saw you, he felt childlike wonder. At first glance, it was nothing special—just curiosity. You were beautiful and stood out amongst the other orphans, like a glow, and Lyney was just a moth.

Before the House, magic was just a means of survival. He performed for the money, hoping that he and his sister could live another day. But when he saw you, striking the air hard and fast, Lyney thought you wore it like it was something special. You were performing, too, for the eyes of praise, but he understood that you weren’t the same. You were bright, lit up with a smile. You were enjoying it. Maybe that was what Lyney lacked; maybe that was what drew him to you.

He could be wrong. Maybe it was already love by then, or at least the beginning of it.

Lyney remembered moments that he’d bet you wouldn’t. Like when his sister got her Vision, and he was left behind. He was crumpled on the floor, a pathetic mess, while her sister was thrown into the face of danger. He couldn’t sit still, but he couldn’t do anything either.

“Are you still sulking?”

Lyney whined pitifully. “How can I protect her when she’s so far away?”

You glanced at him briefly, then traced the dull tip of your weapon. “You’re twins, are you not? Have you considered that Lynette was thinking of how to protect you, too?”

“What are you getting at?”

“You’re not the only one working harder to protect the one you love. The least you could do in return for Lynette’s hard work is to stop whining and keep up with her, no?”

Lyney blinked, offended and furious, but his anger was washed over by the warm feeling he sometimes got when you talked to him like this. “Are you also working hard?” he asked, settling beside you.

“I have to.”

You felt so much older than he was. So goddamn beautiful that it felt like Lyney was forced to never look away, painfully captivated.

But as he learned more about you, he realized a few things: You were his age; you were never older than him; you were just trying to survive; you were more alike than he first thought. It felt like when it was just him and Lynette, and he had to act brave for his sister. Only it seemed you were doing it by yourself, for yourself.

Still beautiful, but in all the wrong ways. He found contentment in this pattern of pursuit, of pushing and pulling—it was the kind of thrill that he relished above all, and he could tell that, in some part of you that you wouldn’t admit, you liked it, too.

Lyney wonders to this day where it all went wrong.

Lyney finishes his story. Lynette sits quietly by the side, both of them watching Aether curiously. Aether has his head hanging low, frowning, no doubt surprised that the children of the House have deeper stories than he expects. They are not just Fatui. They were children, too—orphans trying to survive.

Lyney hopes Aether understands.

They are orphans who have hopes and dreams and hobbies. Orphans that had motivations and banter and dumb crushes. Orphans like you and Lyney, a complication, a commotion: something that Lyney wouldn’t trade for the world (until you did). Orphans that just happened to be Fatui.

“If you had a choice, would you still be a Fatuus?” Aether asks.

”It was never a choice for me; it was simply the path we were meant to take,” Lyney says.

Aether sinks into the couch, and Lyney thinks he finally gets it.

“Tell me what she meant by saying all this is your fault.”

Aether winces. “Well, I suppose it’s only fair, right?”

And so Aether tells them both about how he really met you. It was a devised plan, albeit a failed one due to the complications of their relationship and your unfinished business with ‘Father’ and the one next in line for the throne. Even now, you have to lie about yourself and run from the backlash.

“So you were doing it because of… us,” Lynette trails off.

“And look where that got me,” Aether sighs. “I know it doesn’t mean anything, but I really am sorry. I underestimated all of you.”

Lyney snorts. “At least you’re right about one thing.”

Aether’s gaze sinks to the ground guiltily.

Perhaps, to Aether, savior of regions, known worldwide as a hero, it was difficult to comprehend. Perhaps he met too many Fatui that had been out to get him, and stabbed him in the back, but Lyney needed Aether to understand that the Fatui was a large organization—you have The Doctor, then you have Lyney and his siblings. Lyney could only hope that Aether wouldn’t become so hostile after meeting you, too bright for this world, that you got snuffed out.

“Why did you do it?” Lyney asks. For whose sake was Aether trying so hard for?

“My sister.”

Lyney’s brows raise. “Your sister?”

“I’m doing all of this for her.”

You’re not the only one working harder to protect the one you love.

Lyney supposes he can’t hate Aether that much for that. And selfishly, Lyney supposes he can’t truly hate Aether because he brought you back to him. In a vague sense of camaraderie, Lyney understands.

Aether scratches at the back of his head. “Well, you have a plan, right?”

Lynette nods. “We’re waiting for him.”

“Who are we waiting for?”

Lyney directs his gaze to the ceiling, beyond it, to the sky. If any Archon was listening… “The only person Y/N probably trusts right now.”

a/n this chapters very short i know but the next one is going to be posted in a few hours so theres going to be more

TAGLIST moved to comments bc tumblr is being annoying :(

#606: THAWED #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n

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fangirl-dot-com · 7 months

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Chapter 9 - Life is a Highway

Well FP1 was a shit show. I’m so sad and angry for what happened with Carlos. Because of this, I will be writing as though the red flag didn’t happen and reader gets to do the full practice. There will be a short update chapter after the race on Sunday. I’m going to start regular chapter updates instead of doing chapters when anything happens in real life. So the augmented 2024 season will start before 2024 actually starts. And don’t forget to let me know if you want to be tagged and/or you aren’t getting updates! Enjoy <;3

You could feel everything as you closed your eyes.

The hum of the car as it rattled to life. It breathed. You breathed.

The wire on your cheek as it dug into your skin, ready to use to talk to Mitch. But not yet.

The roughness of the gloves on your fingertips met the juxtaposition of the smooth steering wheel. The buttons ready to be pushed to activate the controls on the car. But not yet.

The squish of your face was trapped by the padding of the helmet. Hair tickled your neck from where it sat in ponytail, ready to fly around your shoulders as the wind picked up with acceleration. But not yet.

Your feet itched to press into the pedals, confined by the tight shoes on your feet. But not yet.

The tube sat comfortably on your lips, begging you to take a sip. But not yet.

You blinked. Everything came back into focus.

Looking up, Christian was looking down at you. He said something, but it was muffled. You shot a thumbs up to him, hoping that would be a good enough answer. He pat your sparkly helmet and walked away.

You would be driving after Lando. Max would be let out first, followed by Charles, then Lando, and then you. The screen on your car reflected harshly off your eyes. You wished you could put your visor down.

You looked over, and through the little gaps, saw Max, looking focused as ever. You wished he’d turn to at least look at you. But he never did. You sighed and looked back to the screen in front. You hadn’t spoken in a while, you just couldn’t get the words out.

What you didn’t see was Christian and Mitch, looking at you from the wall.

“She’s quiet,” Mitch mused. “She was happy and bubbly all night, and now she’s quiet.”

Christian just looked at your helmet, that hardly moved an inch since you got into the car. He’d think that you’d be head bobbing side to side in excitement. He suddenly stood straighter, not leaning on the wall, and walked over to Max’s car. He tapped the top of his helmet, getting Max’s attention.

“Everything all right Christian?”

“It’s the kid.” He pointed at you, who was currently looking down, visor shut. Max thought it was weird. Were you taking a nap?

“What’s the matter?” His Dutch accent heavy with concern.

“She’s quiet.”

Max wanted to get out to check on you, but there were only five minutes to go before the practice started.

“Is her radio connected?” Christian nodded. “Then patch me through.”

You had decided to close your visor, so people wouldn’t see the panic in your eyes. What if you messed up? Crashed. Broke the car. Impeded on someone. Get a penalty for Checo. Hit another driver.

You were so stuck in your head that you missed the call of a familiar voice.

“-id. Kid. You have to listen to me.” Your head shot up and looked over at the number 1 car. Max waved and pointed to his helmet, trying to get you to listen.

“I’m listening.” Your first words since you entered the car almost thirty minutes ago.

“Are you ok?”

“I feel like my stomach is in my throat,” you answered honestly.

Max hummed. “You know what I like to do to calm down when I get nervous.”

You scoffed. “You? Nervous? I didn’t think that those two things could even be in the same sentence.”

You could practically hear the roll of Max’s eyes. “Yes, everyone get’s nervous. Don’t tell him I told you but Lando almost peed his pants his first time.”

“He did not.” You let out a little laugh, calming down one moment at a time.

“He did. He’ll blame it on a water leak though.”

“Ok fine. What does the great Max Verstappen do to calm down.” You knew that the minutes were draining the more you talked.

He was quiet before he spoke, “I like to hum the Dutch anthem.” You could not help the laugh that bubbled from your mouth.

“You do not!” you giggled, “tell me that this is a joke!” You were tearing up from laughing so hard.

On the wall, Mitch and Christian listened in to your conversation with their big headphones, laughing silently at the Dutchman’s confession.

Once you calmed down, Max spoke again, “You should try it with a song that you like. I’m about to go out, but you have some time before you follow Lando. You’re gonna do great kid.”

“Thanks Max.” You watched him drive out into the pit lane and disappear around the corner. You pressed your radio button for Mitch.

“Hey Mitch, can you play a song for me?”

“I’m already on it kid.”

The car breathed. You breathed.

The crowd listened as the familiar voice of David Croft picks up.

“So we have the current world champion leading this practice, followed by Charles Leclerc. Once the Dutchman and Monegasque are on their flying laps, Lando Norris will be let loose, and he is followed by brand new reserve rookie driver Y/n L/n.”

Another host speaks up, “This will be her first time driving with the big boys. I wonder if she can keep up.”

David continues, “Well, if you look at the stats, she has shown that she can keep up. Red Bull released her practice lap time for their track, and she was able to beat our very own Max Verstappen’s practice time. And – what is that on her radio?”

The producers tuned in and opened your radio for everyone to hear.

“Is that the song from Cars?”

You were mumbling as you drove around, heating the tires. “Life’s like a road that you travel on,” you turned on one of the various corners, “When there’s one day here,” you moved out of Max’s way, “and the next day gone.”

With each lyric, you were feeling more comfortable. Mitch’s smile did not go away as she held her phone up to the headset. The song was now blasting throughout the garages.

Logan had taken his helmet to listen in for a moment. He found himself mouthing the words as well with a huge smile. New best friend?

Once the song ended, you were much more comfortable in the car. You hit the radio button. “Thank you Mitch.”

“Anything for you kid. Now let’s bring you in, go over some data, then set a lap time. Right now Leclerc is at 1 minute, thirty-five point 265 seconds.”

“Copy, I’m headed in now. The turn is a bit hard to handle though to enter the pit,” you mentioned.

“We’ll go over that.”

You pulled your car parallel to the garage and were carefully lifted and rolled back. You raised your visor so that you could see the screen better. This time around, you were much more talkative and vocal about how you were feeling. From to your right, without your knowledge, Max was looking at you with a big smile. Your hands were flying everywhere as you talked to one of the mechanics, who was softly nodding along to whatever you were saying.

You were put out on soft tires with a few more minutes to go. If you were going to take fastest lap, it would be now.

Once again, you headed out, Max this time was on your tail. You knew your tires. Max watched you go another two laps.

He pushed his radio button to talk to GP. “What is she doing?” he questioned, surprised that you hadn’t taken your flying lap yet. Almost all of the cars were done: it was just the two of you left.

“Checking.” Max was worried that you didn’t know exactly what you were doing. But you did. You always knew.

“GP?” Max said again.

From the commentators box, David spoke up. “Seems like the rookie is taking a leisure drive up the straight.”

The same producer followed, “She’s on softs but isn’t using them fresh? Does she know what she’s doing.”

GP finally answered, “I talked to her strategist. She just told me to tell you to go around her and start you lap. She will finish behind you.”

Max wanted to argue, but didn’t. He quickly passed you, starting his flying lap. When he was rolled into the garage, you finally told the team that you were going to go for it. Max by then had stepped out of the car and was given a set of headphones.

He was enthralled by the way that you sent the car flying down the straight, much faster than he had. The screen showed that every corner that you turned had been maximized. Under the first two sections, a green negative number showed how quickly you were going, much faster than Charles had.

By now, everyone’s eyes were on you, and you didn’t have a clue.

You breathed. The car breathed.

Everyone else was holding their breath as you made you way down the final straight.

David could be heard, “And there she goes down the main straight. Is she going to make it?” Your car zoomed over the finish line and everyone’s head turned to see your finishing time.

“AND THAT IS ONE MINUTE AND THRITY FOUR POINT 000 SECONDS FOR Y/N L/N! A FULL SECOND AND SOME FASTER THAN THE FERRARI!”

Cheers from the Red Bull garage erupted at the news. Everyone could tell though that Max and Christian were the most proud. You, however, were still in the car, unaware of what just happened.

You pulled up the garage and were immediately swarmed with mechanics and personelle alike. You clamored out of the car and were given multiple pats on the helmet, just like it had been when you won your championship.

You took off your helmet, followed by your balaclava. Your hair stuck to your forehead as you walked back into the garage. You were handed a giant Red Bull can with an even bigger straw. You were excited to drink from it though. Just as you were about to take a sip, hands landed on your shoulders, turning you around.

You were brought into a giant hug by none other than Max Verstappen.

“Uh, Max. I love you and all, but what’s all this?” He looked at you with a puzzled face.

“Kid,” he breathed, “you just made the fastest lap yet. A full second and some faster than the Ferrari.”

“Oh.” You were dumbstruck. Max just laughed at your silence and brought you into another hug.

After the hug, you were congratulated by a couple more people. Mitch had given you a giant hug, followed by Christian.

When the Brit brought you into his arms, he whispered, “I’m glad I made the right decision kid.” You kinda teared up at that point, but you didn’t let them fall. You still had after race interviews to get through.

Max gently took you by the arm, gave you your change of clothes, and pushed you towards the bathroom. He muttered something about hurrying up so you could be interviewed together. You peeled off your race suit, then your fireproofs. You were thankful for the change of clothes. Max must have grabbed the wrong size, because the hoodie was definitely three sizes too big. You were drowning in the soft fabric. Oh well.

Max was looking at his phone when you emerged from the makeshift driver room. It was really Max’s since you didn’t have one yet.

When you walked out, all of the reporters who had been talking to other drivers, were suddenly all around you and Max. A few of them shouted questions at you, but you were too stunned to speak.

Max quickly took some of the questions as you were trying to grasp what was happening. Your eyes met warm brown ones. You gave the lady a quick nod, wanting to hear her questions.

“That was some lap Y/n. How were you feeling?” You gulped.

“Nervous” was all you were able to get out. But somehow, that got everyone laughing. Max had turned around to talk to Charles.

“We noticed that you had a nice sound track with you in the car. Would you like to tell us about that?”

“Uh, I really like the movie cars,” you stated. Like in the car, talking about the things you like got you comfortable the fastest. “I grew up on the movie. Lightning McQueen was always my favorite.” You paused and looked back at Max and Charles. You smirked and you knew that they saw it. “Yeah, he reminds me of a certain driver.”

The same woman spoke up, “And who would that be?”

You only pointed behind you as you started laughing.

“Me?”

“Him?”

You only giggled. “Lightning is a red car. Charles drives for a red team. It all makes sense.” You shrugged your shoulders. “If Max grew a mustache, he could be Chick, but he’s not green. If anyone that would be Fernando maybe? Christian is definitely Doc. Oh wait, Max would definitely be Mater. Cause,” you pointed at the two starstruck drivers, “they’re besties.”

Max scoffed and Charles gave a small laugh, so did the reporters. The rest of the interviews went well.

“Yeah, I’m just very thankful for this opportunity, and I can’t wait to drive for 2024. It’s going to be an amazing experience.”

With that, you were done with the interviews. You walked back to where Christian was and gave him a big hug and let out a sigh. He rubbed your back.

“I’m so proud of you kid.” Your tears finally trickled down your face. All you ever wanted to do was make people proud. You let out a yawn as you turned from Christian. There were still a couple of hours before the second practice, but you were determined to stay for everything. You took a pair of headphones off the wall and rewatched the other drivers. You saw Carlos narrowly miss a giant piece of metal in the middle of the track. You were glad that he didn’t hit that. It would have scraped the entirety of the bottom of his car.

Logan had come back up to you as you walked around, trying to get tired.

“Dude, I’m glad I’m not the only one who loves the Car movies. Alex makes fun of me for it.” You gaped at him.

“Excuse me?” you all but yelled, earning some looks. “Ok, but you have to agree, Cars 2 is the best one. The first one is there for nostalgia, and the third one never happened.”

“Oh my gosh I know. The second one is so good.”

You looked around. “I have my phone, with Disney plus. Want to watch a bit with me?” Logan nodded as the two of you found a corner with a chair to watch the movie. It was an hour before anyone found you. Surprisingly, Oscar had come over as well, and you found yourself sandwiched between the two 2023 rookies on one chair.

When Lewis came on screen, Oscar yelled, “Lewis has his own Car character!?”

“I know, it’s not fair.” You pouted.

It was comical to see the three of you, smushed on a chair, eyes trained on a screen. Sadly the three of you weren’t able to finish it, but you quickly promised that you would finish it at some point.

It was time for the rest of the drivers to get back into their cars. This time, Checo was back in his own seat. Your eyes were stinging but you wanted to stay awake. You knew you could do it.

You couldn’t.

You had sworn that you were just going to take a quick nap, but by the time someone came to get you, you were out. The mechanic who found you called Christian over and left after. Christian quickly pulled out his phone to take a picture before putting an extra Red Bull jacket over you as a blanket.

When Max got out of the car, he was surprised when he didn’t see you at the garage wall. His eyes flickered around the garage, before spotting you curled up by some extra tires. It was five a.m. by the time that he was ready to leave to head back to the hotel. He quickly unzipped the race suit and grabbed extra clothes to change into. All that was on his mind was getting back to the hotel for a few hours of sleep before he had to do it all over again. He rubbed a hand over his face as he walked out of his driver room.

Saying multiple quick goodbyes, he walked over to you. Looking down, he realized he didn’t know how to wake someone up. He kneeled to be eye level before lightly shaking your shoulder.

“Kleintje,” he whispered in his native tongue. He remember his mother saying it every time she had to wake him up (translation: little one).

Your eyes fluttered at the gentle motion. You startled and shot up straight, narrowly missing Max’s face. You looked at him confused.

“Why aren’t you in the car? Is there a red flag?” Your eyes darted around the garage, looking for some indicator as to why Max was crouched in front of you instead of driving around the circuit.

“Kid, it’s time to go back to the hotel.” You pouted.

“I wanted to watch the practice though.”

“You didn’t miss anything, so don’t worry about it. But, I would like to leave and Christian told me to take you back to the hotel, so let’s go.” He held out a hand for you to take. Using some leverage, he was able to pull you up from where you were sleeping.

You barely made it to the car, yawning every so often. With your backpack, you took out a blanket before getting into the car. Max immediately put on the heat so that the two of you could warm up from the cold desert air.

“Care to share?” he questioned with a laugh as he saw you snuggle into your blanket. You glared at him before turning towards the window. That made him laugh even more as he rolled out of the parking space.

Thankfully Christian knew what he was doing by booking hotel less than ten minutes away. Looking over, Max saw that you had fallen back to sleep. When he pulled up to a red light, he got his phone out of his pocket and took a picture.

The light turned green and off he went, careful not to jerk you around the corners. Once the two of you got to the hotel, Max woke you back up. The valet was able to park the car for him as he guided you to the front counter to get the key cards. To your surprise, your room was right next to his.

Max made sure that you were safely in bed, before retiring to his room. You had given him a sleepy hug before he left. The feeling made him feel warm on the inside. He barely was able to send a few text messages and post something on his story before drifting off to sleep.

He groaned as lyrics filled his head.

“Life is a highway and Y/n I’m going to kill you for this.”

tagged: logansargeant and oscarpiastri

tagged: y/n.89

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#charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x driver!reader #max verstappen x reader #platonic grid x reader #arthur leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #formula 1 x you #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #logan sargeant x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #george russell x reader #alex albon x reader

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heavcnslyre · 10 months

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chapter three — j.f. ( masterlist )

LOVER, YOU SHOULD’VE COME OVER.

“maybe i'm too young to keep good love from going wrong

but tonight, you're on my mind so, you’ll never know”

taglist: @jellybassett @glowingtree

(authors note PLEASE READ: you guys are the SWEETEST ever omg the amount of love i’ve gotten on this so far is insane. i appreciate, and reread over and over again, every single comment or reblog i get, it genuinely keeps me so motivated to write and i appreciate you guys so so much you have no idea. i haven’t written in forever so i excepted no one to like this fic but so far you guys have proven that to be not true and it brings me so much joy. i plan for this to be long!! idek how many parts i’m just gonna keep writing chapters until the story ends!! i cannot guarantee how often updates will be but i’ll write my ass off as much as i can for a while!! all the love in the world to you guys!!! enjoy!!)

you wake up the next morning with no messages from peter. this, usually wouldn’t be strange since he often slept in later than you, but he didn’t even reply to your message from last night at ten thirty. he never went to bed earlier than two in the morning. a gross, nervous feeling creeps up on you. you try to shake it off, thinking that maybe he just fell asleep early when he hadn’t heard from you. that’s what you would keep telling yourself.

downstairs in the kitchen, steven and jeremiah were sitting on stools at the counter, comparing their cereals. belly was at the table, studying the pancakes she was eating. susannah was cooking more pancakes at the stove. “morning (y/n)!” susannah greets you as you enter the room. jeremiah looks up at you and when you make eye contact, he gives you a forced smile and then looks back down at his cereal. he’d been acting weird since last night, when you told him about peter. it actually sort of made you feel bad, that you didn’t tell him sooner. he was clearly bothered by it or offended about you not telling him. the last thing you wanted to do was make things weird between the two of you, and that’s exactly what you did.

“morning susannah,” you smile at her. “can i have some pancakes?”

“absolutely you can!” she exclaims, flipping a pancake over onto a plate. “give me two minutes and they’ll be ready.”

“thanks susannah,” you say then walk over to sit with belly at the table. she smiles at you, her mouth full of pancakes.

“what are you doing today?” she asks you. you shrug.

“dunno. what were you thinking?”

“you should take me driving,” belly smiles cheekily. you laugh. she always asked to go driving ever since you got your license, but you didn’t mind. she had told you before that she trusted you the most to teach her how to drive without being too judgmental.

“sure, bells,” you say. “you can drive me into town to grab some stuff from the store.”

“bonfire tonight, (y/n),” steven turns to face you. “don’t forget.”

you nod. “would never.”

“can i go?” belly asks, looking between the two of you. steven looks at jeremiah then laughs.

“belly, that’s not really your scene,” steven says. “you’ve never gone before.”

“well i wanna go now,” she looks at you. “please?”

you look at steven, who shakes his head. you shrug. “i don’t know, belly. isn’t tonight usually your movie night?”

“it is,” susannah appears with a plate of pancakes for you. you thank her as she sets them down. “but we could always reschedule if belly wanted to go to a party with her siblings.”

“see?” belly says. “even susannah doesn’t think it’s a bad idea.”

“don’t get me too involved, now,” susannah tucks belly’s hair behind her ear. “i have no opinion on the matter except for i want you to do whatever makes you happiest.”

“i think you should come, belly,” jeremiah speaks up for the first time since you’ve gotten downstairs. everyone turns to look at him and he shrugs. he won’t look at you. “it would be fun if you were there.”

“it’s decided then,” belly says. “i’m going with!”

“better make sure it’s okay with mom first,” steven tells her, but she waves him off, finishing her pancakes and going to rinse off her plate.

“(y/n), i’ll be in the pool. come get me when you’re ready to go!”

“thirty minutes after eating before you can swim!” susannah calls out to her, but belly was already gone. susannah shakes her head, but there’s a smile on that face. “that girl.”

soon enough, you and belly are in the car, her driving you both into town. the music was blasting and the windows were down, hair whipping everywhere, but neither of you cared.

“what do you have to get from town?” belly asks.

“some hair stuff and i wanna go to that one boutique we found last year and see if they have anything cute,” you reply. she grins.

“i completely forgot about that place!”

“me too until i was packing for this trip and found my skirt i got from there last year,” you and belly had always looked around different shops in town, mainly window-shopping and judging the clothes that were sold in those shops. they were so extremely over priced and half of them looked like something your grandmother would wear. that was, until last summer, when you found the most gorgeous hot pink skirt on a sale rack at a new boutique. you could not stop thinking about it after you left, so the next day you and belly went back so that you could buy it. you wore that skirt constantly. the thing you remembered most about it was the way that jeremiah had looked at you the first time you had worn it. he made you feel so special just from one look, so that skirt became a staple piece in your wardrobe after that. when you started dating peter, you stopped wearing the skirt. it was such a small, meaningless idea that he looked at you special when you wore a random skirt, but it meant a lot to you at the same time. enough that it felt like betrayal to pack the skirt to bring to cousins, so you left it at home.

you and belly spend the afternoon at the shops, picking out outfits for each other to try and laughing at the ridiculousness you put each other through. as you’re getting ready to leave, before she starts the car, belly turns to you. “(y/n).”

“what’s up bells?”

“have you noticed anything…different, about conrad?” she sounds hesitant to ask you, and almost whispers his name. you sigh.

“sorta,” you say. “i was talking to jere last night and he told me that things were weird with him. he doesn’t know why, but it’s been months. he quit the football team.”

“what!?” belly exclaims. “no way. he loves football, i thought he was gonna play in college.”

you shrug. “so did everyone. he just changed things out of nowhere. jere said that he won’t ever say anything and pretends nothing is wrong, but he hasn’t really tried talking to him. you know how guys are with each other. talking about stuff like that does not come easy.”

belly nods, staring down at the steering wheel. you touch her arm gently. “hey, maybe you should talk to him.”

“me?”

“yeah bells. he’s happier around you, even if you don’t see it. maybe he’ll talk to you.”

she sighs. “i don’t know (y/n). he seems mad at me. like, every time we’ve talked, he is so different,” she glances over at you. “you know how i feel about him. i just…i hate the thought of losing him.”

“you won’t. i promise you, you won’t. he’ll open up. you sure as hell did not do anything wrong, it’s probably just something small he needs to work through. everything will work itself out.”

belly smiles at you gratefully. “thank you, (y/n). i think i would go crazy without you.”

“that is exactly what a big sister is for.”

she starts the car and begins to drive away. “so, another thing… do you think i should be a debutant?”

“a debutant?” you ask, shocked. “belly, when i was considering it last summer you seemed disgusted.”

“i know,” she sighs. “but susannah asked me to do it…and i know she was bummed when you didn’t do it last year so i just figured….” she trails off, but she didn’t have to finish. susannah had asked you last year to be a deb and you were going to do it, you really were. you even started looking for dresses and planning everything. that was, until jeremiah announced that he had no intention of ever being an escort to the deb ball. it had felt like such an indirect that it completely killed all of your interest in the ball. he was the only person you had even considered asking to be your escort, and he so openly hated the idea of being one, so you figured that was a sign that it wasn’t right for you. if you were honest, you always regretted it.

“you should do it,” you say after a while. “you’re right, it would make susannah happy. and i’m sure you’ll have no problem finding an escort. it’d be a lot of fun to watch.”

“you think so?”

“definitely.”

belly nods, but doesn’t say anything, focusing on the road. you do the same thing, staring forward. part of you still wondered if jeremiah would have been your escort if you had asked. the other part of you hates yourself for thinking that you would be the exception.

later that night, you’re standing and staring at your closet, trying to figure out what to wear to the bonfire. you brought a few dresses and skirts, but suddenly, you hated everything you owned. this bonfire was super fun every year and the best way to start out the summer, so you felt so much pressure to pick out something cute.

“hey,” jeremiah appears in your doorway, ready to go. “you about ready?”

“yeah,” you sigh. “just gotta figure out what to wear.”

“hm,” he thinks for a second, walking towards your closet. “you still have that pink skirt from last summer? that was good.”

you look down. “uh, left it at home.”

“oh,” he says, a hint of disappointment in his voice. then, he clears his throat and turns his back to you, facing your clothes. he looks for a second before grabbing a blue sundress and handing it to you. “here. this is perfect.”

you look at the dress and smile. it was one of your favorite dresses, simple and comfortable but super cute. of course jeremiah would pick out a sundress for you to wear. he always claimed that girls in sundresses were his weakness.

“okay. get out so i can change,” you push him out the door and he laughs as you do, allowing you to close the door in his face. you change quickly and find a pair of sandals to go with the dress, check your hair and makeup one last time, then you went downstairs to meet everyone else. conrad and belly were sitting on opposite sides of the couch, steven in the middle of them (which looked like it was awkward for all three of them), and jeremiah sat in the chair by the couch, staring at his phone. when steven sees you come down, he shoots up from his seat and claps his hands. “alright! let’s get going! jere’s driving, i call shotgun!”

you make eye contact with jeremiah who smiles at you after looking you up and down. you feel yourself blush at his gaze. he always did this to you. you felt so special just by him looking at you. it was stupid, honestly. that’s just how he was.

the five of you pile out of the house and into jeremiah’s car, you, conrad, and belly squished into the back while steven and jeremiah sat in the front seat of the car, singing their hearts out to taylor swifts ‘cruel summer.’ they were insane when it came to her music, but neither of them would ever admit it.

as soon as you arrive at the beach, steven jumps out of the car. he’s halfway to the fire by the time you even open your car door, and conrad and jeremiah are following close behind him, leaving you and belly to walk down on your own. you glance over at belly, who is staring at the group of people on the beach, a nervous look on her face. you throw your arm around her. “it’ll be okay bells. it’s actually fun here, promise. just…don’t talk to anyone weird. or too old. and if you get uncomfortable just come find me. we’ll figure it out.”

she smiles at you gratefully. “thank you, (y/n). i’ll be okay. you go have fun with your friends.”

you squeeze her shoulder gently as your friend nicole waves you over. “love you bells.”

“love you too.”

you hurry over to nicole and hug her tightly. “oh, nicole! it’s so good to see you!”

“it’s so good to see you too!” she exclaims. as you pull away from the hug, she offers you a beer and you take it. “how have you been?”

“so good,” you tell her. “the school year was great and i actually have a boyfriend back home!”

“ohhh!!” nicole squeals. “what’s his name? how long have you been together? tell me everything.”

you fill her in on all of the details of your relationship, with her squealing excitedly at the end of almost every sentence. as soon as you finish talking, you feel a hand on your shoulder, and turn to see your friend shayla. it was your turn to squeal in excitement as you hug her tightly, then nicole does the same.

“shayla! i didn’t know you were coming this early!” nicole exclaims. shayla shrugs.

“yeah, mum and dad decided we’d come now rather than later,” shayla replies. “deb season, you know? they want me to be prepared.”

“oh, don’t remind me,” nicole sighs. “i’m helping as a big sister this year. i don’t know if i’m ready to go through it again.”

shayla laughs. “cant be that bad! at least, that’s what i’m telling myself.”

“do you know who’s gonna escort you?” nicole asks. shayla glances at you quickly.

“well, it’s so early, i don’t know…”

nicole scoffs. “shayla, you are the most prepared and efficient person i know. i know you have someone in mind.”

“well,” shayla gives you an embarrassed smile. “i was kinda thinking i would try to get to know steven more. see if he would escort me.”

both of the girls look at you, waiting for your reaction. usually, you hated when girls had a crush on your brother. at school, girls who did would try to become friends with you to get closer to him, and it was tiring. but this was different. shayla was one of the most kind, incredible people you have ever met. you knew she had no ill intentions. also, steven could use a good influence like her in his life. “that sounds like a great idea, shayla.” you say sincerely. she breathes an obvious sigh of relief.

“i’m so glad you said that,” she says. “i would never wanna pursue something if it meant it would hurt our friendship. no man is worth that.”

you nod. “you’re so right.”

nicole’s eyes drift over your shoulder. “i’m, uh…i’ll be right back.”

without either of you replying, she walks away. you watch her as she walks directly to conrad, who had apparently been by himself in that moment. you and shayla look at each other and laugh.

“she is so down bad for him,” shayla says. you nod.

“painful to watch sometimes.”

shayla laughs again. “well, i’ll see you later too, (y/n). i’m gonna go talk to steven.” you grin at her.

“have fun!”

as soon as she walks away and you’re left on your own, your phone buzzes. you pull it out to see a text from peter. finally. it had only been all day since you’d heard from him.

peter: been busy today babe sorry for not replying

peter: at party rn it’s super fun!

peter: look at this video lol there was a tall ass diving board i jumped in fully clothed

peter: (attachment, one video)

you smile at his messages and click on the video he sent you. it took a moment to load, but once it did, you almost dropped your phone in shock. it wasn’t a video of him jumping off the diving board. it was a video of him making out with a random girl. you watch in pure shock, unable to move. as the video goes on, you realize it wasn’t a random girl. it was cassie, your best friend. you watch the video closely, hoping for any sign that this was some sort of a dare or big joke, but there was nothing. they were just heavily making out, his hands up her shirt and her hands in his hair, and someone just happened to be filming on peter’s phone.

peter: oh shit

you stare at your phone for a full minute after the video ended, unsure what to do next. then, looking at your other hand, you knew. you chugged the rest of your beer, found a cooler, and chugged another one. when you started your third one, you felt a hand on your shoulder. “hey.”

you turn around to see jeremiah standing there, smiling at you. “you having fun?” he asks. you nod, chugging almost half of the new beer in one sip.

“so much fun,” you finish off the third beer and go to grab another one, but jeremiah grabs your hand.

“wait, be careful,” he says. “how many have you had?”

“that was like, my first,” you lie, opening a new beer. “don’t worry, jere. i’ll be fine. just having some fun.”

he stares at you, a concerned look on his face. “(y/n), you never drink like this. what’s going on?”

“nothing!” you say cheerfully. “just trying to start the summer out right,” you look around and see a group of people dancing nearby. you take a sip of your beer and motion towards them. “i’m going to dance.”

“(y/n),” jeremiah calls, but you were already stumbling away from him, towards the people dancing. shayla and steven were in that group, shayla doing more dancing than steven was, but both of them looking like they were having fun nonetheless. shayla grins at you as you approach, grabbing your free hand and spinning you around. you giggle and dance with her for a while, finishing off your beer as you do. you were definitely drunk at this point, which wasn’t hard for you, since you were a lightweight. at things like this, you usually stopped at one beer or seltzer, so you definitely were not used to four. it was good, though. it made you forget about peter and cassie betraying you.

it made you forget until now.

if you were honest, it didn’t surprise you as much as you thought it would. cassie had been the one to introduce you to peter, and she always had a weird connection to him. you almost felt stupid for not seeing this coming sooner. most of all though, you were just angry. angry at peter for leading you on and cheating on you. angry at cassie for supposedly being your best friend and then doing this the second you’re not in town. angry at both of them for ruining the one good thing you had in a long time. as you walk towards the beer cooler again, jeremiah catches up to you and grabs your arm, holding you back. “okay, no. i’m cutting you off, (y/n).”

“let go of me,” you grumble quietly, trying to free yourself from his grip, but he was much stronger than you. he grabbed your other arm so you were forced to face him.

“(y/n), what’s going on with you?”

“nothing!” you yell at him, catching the attention of a few people around you, but you were too far gone to care. “nothings going on with me! i’m just trying to have a good time, okay?”

jeremiah smiles awkwardly at a few people around you, trying to divert the attention away from the two of you. “i know you, (y/n). why are you acting like this? you’re never like this.”

“so what?” you say. “so what if i am?”

a few girls call jeremiah’s name and attempt to wave him over to them, but he ignores them. “come on, we should get you home.”

“i don’t wanna go home,” you say hardly, looking him in the eyes. he looks genuinely concerned for you. somehow, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. “i wanna stay here.”

“(y/n)…” he’s cut off by the sound of police sirens and people yelling and scrambling around to pick up the beer cans and leave quickly. jeremiah swears under his breath and grabs your hand, pulling you away from the beach. “guess you have no choice.”

the two of you run towards his car, following everyone else who was running away from the scene. you look around frantically, but can’t find belly, conrad, or steven. “jere, wait, where’s everyone else?”

jeremiah shakes his head. “i’ll find them in a second. gotta get you to the car.”

“but belly, jere,” you say. “she’s probably scared shitless.”

he shakes his head again. “she found someone to hang out with. i’m sure she’s with him. i’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“but—“

“i’ll find her, (y/n).” he cuts you off. “just please get in the car first.” at this point, he sounds like he’s begging you. you look him in his eyes but have to look away quickly. the desperation in his expression was too painful to look at. you nod.

“okay.”

he squeezes your hand then opens the passenger door for you, allowing you to climb in. “i’ll be right back, okay? stay here.”

and with that, he’s running back towards the beach like he was superman. at that moment, it felt like he was, honestly. running back towards the cops in order to save everyone else. you weren’t sure that you knew many people who would do that. while you’re still alone in the car, you pull out your phone to finally reply to peter, who had texted you again, five times.

peter: (y/n) omg i’m so sorry

peter: wrong video but i swear it’s not what it looks like

peter: we’re both so drunk we were dared to do it and that’s why it was recorded

peter: please (y/n) please we didn’t mean it

peter: please believe me

you: fuck you

and with that, you block his number, and set your phone down. you wonder if you would have that much confidence if you were sober. you wonder if you would believe him if you were sober. it was a good thing that you weren’t, you figured. it was for the best. two months didn’t have to mean much, right? just a silly little mistake you made to date him that ended badly, but it didn’t matter, right? yeah your best friend betrayed you, but no worries, right?

suddenly, you realize that you are crying. sobbing, actually. uncontrollable sobs escape from your lips and you sit in the dark car, alone, sobbing your heart out. how was this fair? what did you do to deserve to lose your best friend and boyfriend all at once? the fact that if he hadn’t accidentally sent you that video then you never would have known made it worse. it made you wonder if this had been going on for a while, and he had just slipped up now. you could not stop crying.

even when the car doors opened and jeremiah slid into the seat next to you, you could not stop crying. he looks at you, shocked. “(y/n)?” he asks softly, unsure. the rest of the car is quiet, but you could feel everyone else’s presence in the backseat. you shake your head.

“i’m… i’m fine,” you say unconvincingly. “i’ll be, i’ll be okay.” you nod at jeremiah, who was staring at you with the same desperation on his face from before. he seems unconvinced, but starts the car, glancing at you again before he drives away. in the dark, he reaches over and grabs your hand, holding it tightly in his. you continue to cry silently for the rest of the ride home, squeezing his hand with both of yours.

#jeremiah fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher #tsitp jeremiah #jeremiah x reader #jeremiah fisher x you #jeremiah fisher x y/n #tsitp #tsitp steven #tsitp fanfic #tsitp cast #tsitp spoilers #tsitp belly #tsitpbookseries #tsitp conrad #conrad fisher #belly conklin #steven conklin #the summer i turned pretty #bria j.f updates

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neonghostlights · 9 months

Text

Fuckboy!werewolf!Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Stalker-ish behavior (Eddie means well), Eddie is a fuckboy (well, he's on the track to being reformed), If I missed any warnings please let me know, 18 + only, minors DNI

Wordcount: 2.7k

Previous chapter

It had been a week since you almost hit the giant wolf with your car.

You didn’t tell anyone about it, mainly because there wasn’t anyone that would believe you. And partially because there wasn’t anyone in your life to tell.

You almost didn’t believe yourself. You thought about that moment over and over again, replaying it on a loop in your head. Maybe you had just been really tired and hallucinated. Or maybe it was one of those intensely weird dreams that your brain tricks you into thinking is a memory.

Either way you were keeping it to yourself.

Jessie and Tina had gone back to their normal selves and by normal you meant keeping mostly to themselves and only really talking to you when it had to do with work. The weirdness of the other day disappeared after a few shifts together. It was honestly a massive relief. You’d hate to have to find a new job when you liked this one so much already.

It was a sunny day in Hawkins. The grass around your trailer had sprouted drastically with the rain and you knew you’d have to mow it some time soon with the ancient mower that was in the backyard shed. Hopefully it would be the only time you had to do it since fall was coming soon.

It wasn’t a task that you were looking forward to. You would rather spend all of your time in the house than sweating in your yard for hours.

You were on your thirty minute break when you heard the bell ding on the door at the front of the store. You took an unbothered bite of your sandwich, knowing that Tina and Jessie could help whoever came in.

The breakroom was drabby compared to the rest of the store. The harsh fluorescents were a sharp contrast compared to the dim lamp lighting in the rest of the building. If it was possible, you’d much rather eat your lunch curled up in one of the arm chairs out on the floor for customers to sit in while they looked through the books they wanted to buy.

If you had the money you would build yourself your own personal library that looked just like this place.

You stared down at the chipped blue polish of your nails, wondering if you would have the will to paint them when you got home when Jessie stuck her head through the break room door.

You couldn’t tell what was going on but her expression was thunderous. You set your sandwich down, already halfway standing when she spoke.

“Eddie Munson is here,” she announced, eyes locked on you.

“Oh no. He’s not here to bother Tina is he? I can run out there so she can come back here and hide if she needs to-”

“He’s asking for you,” she cut you off with an accusatory tone.

“Me?” You asked, pointing at yourself with the bitten half of your sandwich in confusion.

She nodded, still staring at you as you stood fully.

“I don’t even know him,” you explained as you followed her out the break room door. You felt like you needed to defend yourself, to prove that you had no part in whatever was going on. Maybe he had just said the wrong name, there was no way he knew yours.

You just wanted to eat your sandwich in peace.

She made a noise between her tightly pressed lips, letting you know she heard you but didn’t believe you.

“I like your lipgloss by the way,” you complimented her, trying to diffuse the tension.

It wasn’t a lie. You really did like the lipgloss. It was sparkly.

She acted like she didn’t hear you. Her eyes were focused straight ahead as she led you to the front counter. You could see Eddie Munsons back as he leaned away from the counter, facing the opposite direction.

His hair was pulled back into a low bun. The back of his leather jacket stretched against him from where his arms were crossed against his chest.

He must have heard you approaching because he turned around quickly as you got closer. His eyes found yours immediately and it made you shiver.

You blamed the air conditioning.

You looked at Tina who was behind the counter, pretending to be busy by flipping through the books stacked in a pile on the cart. You felt for her, it must be hard seeing your ex show up while you’re just trying to do your job.

“Can I help you?” You asked as you got closer to him. Jessie went behind the counter and stood beside Tina but she didn’t pretend to be busy at all. You could feel her heated glare on your skin and it made you sweat.

His form relaxed as he looked at you, almost like he was relieved to see you. You could hear the puff of air release from his chest as he exhaled. Eddie’s eyes traveled up and down you like he was inspecting you and it made you self conscious. You crossed your arms against your chest to act as a shield from his gaze.

He just continued to stare at you, dark eyes searing into your face. His eyes bounced around, like they couldn’t decide which of your features he wanted to focus on. He finally settled on your eyes, and the intensity was too much so you looked away at the counter to your right.

“Can I help you, sir?” You asked again, tacking on the sir at the end to keep it extra professional. You couldn’t help the way your voice squeaked a little bit.

“I’m Eddie,” he said, eyes still focused on yours.

“I’ve heard,” you acknowledged, nodding along politely. “How can I help you?”

“Can we talk? In private?” He asked, side eying Tina and Jessie as a shaking hand rubbed his chest lightly through his jacket.

Your face screwed up in confusion. What could he possibly want to talk to you about?

You looked over to Tina and Jessie for help. Both girls stared at you, Tina having abandoned her fake working to watch the interaction as well. You wanted them to step in, to tell him that you were busy or make up an excuse for you. You felt helpless and abandoned when neither of them did anything but stare at you with mixed expressions of anger and confusion.

He must have seen the hesitation on your face.

“It’s important,” he pressed.

He seemed earnest, and also a little stressed. You picked up on the slight shake of his hands as he reached up to push a loose strand of curled hair out of his face.

The store was a safe place. Maybe he wanted to talk about Tna for some reason, or maybe he needed help finding an embarrassing self help book and didn’t want Tina or Jessie knowing anything about it.

You nodded your head and gestured to a nearby row of shelves, close enough to the front door and your coworkers in case you needed them.

Despite the way he was acting, you didn’t necessarily feel unsafe with Eddie. You didn’t know the name of how you felt to be honest; indifference maybe?

He followed you obediently, right on your heels, before you stopped and spun around to face him. You didn’t expect him to be so close when you turned around and it sent you stumbling for a moment. A hand reached out, placed delicately on your waist to keep you from falling into the book shelf.

You could see the slight stubble on his jaw and smell the cigarette he must’ve smoked on the way in. It mixed with his other scent, of mint and something natural that you could only describe as the smell of the woods after it rained. You caught yourself leaning in briefly to get a better sniff when you realized what you were doing.

You backed up suddenly, pulling from his grasp. You took three large steps backwards to get some space. He kept his hand elevated in the air for a moment, still like he was holding you before he balled up his fist and shoved it into his pocket.

“What do you need?” Your voice came out slightly impatient. “Do you need help finding something?”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head and another piece of hair came loose from his bun.

“Then what do you want?” You snapped, a little annoyed and still kind of hungry.

He stared at you, his eyes softening at your tone. It was the exact opposite reaction than what you expected.

He opened his mouth to speak before you beat him to it, both hands placed on your hips as you reprimanded him.

“I don’t know who you think you are or what game you or playing or if you’re just trying to mess with Tina by talking to me-”

“Who’s Tina?” He asked, genuinely seeming confused as he tilted his head.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Tina. Your ex-girlfriend,” you explained like you were talking to a toddler.

“I don’t have an ex-girlfriend,” Eddie said, a small smile growing on his face.

It pissed you off even more.

“You know what. This conversation is going anywhere so if you could please just tell me what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“I wanted to know if we could hang out tonight.”

Your mouth popped open in shock before you let out a laugh of disbelief.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you laughed as you shook your head.

Eddie’s brow furrowed like he genuinely couldn’t believe that you turned him down.

“Why?”

“Because I have heard all about you, Eddie Munson. And I will not be next up on your list of girls to screw over,” you declared, a single finger pointed at him in warning.

Eddie’s eyes flicked to your finger before looking at your lips and then your eyes. You raised a brow at him, daring him to disagree or argue.

“You heard that about me,” he sighed, seeming a little disappointed.

“This is a weird conversation and I need to get back to work,” you muttered, going to move past him but his hand shot out to stop you. His fingers dropped from your arm when he noticed the fiery look on your face.

“Do not touch me ever again,” you warned, venom dripping from your tone.

Eddie put his hands up, a concerned look on his face.

“Shit. I-I didn’t mean…I’m so sorry. I’m not doing a good job at this and I don’t know what to do-” He fumbled out, looking at you like you were going to help him in some way.

You placed a single hand up, stopping his rambling. His mouth clicked shut. You didn’t realize it would be that easy to get him to shut up. It felt almost powerful for him to immediately do what you said. Usually people didn’t listen when you talked. It was often that your voice would be drowned out or ignored.

Eddie Munson was just that good at what he did though. You had run into guys like him before at your old town. Guys that did whatever it took to get what they wanted.

Eddie Munson was the type of guy who knew he was good looking and used it to his advantage. Based on the state Tina is in and the way Jessie had described him, you knew exactly who he was.

He was the type to leave girls strung behind him like nothing. It was a chase to get what he wanted every time. And when he finally got it, you would be tossed to the side. You were the new person in town, a shiny new toy for someone like him to play with and then toss in the garbage.

You wouldn’t let that happen to you.

“I’m done with the conversation,” is all you said before you made your way back to the front. You had rounded the corner just in time to catch Jessie and Tina scrambling from behind a shelf, pretending that they didn’t hear every word.

You grabbed some papers to do some inventory, the thought of your lunch waiting for you in the breakroom was no longer appetizing.

He followed you, of course. You ignored him as you grabbed a pen and clicked it a few times, pretending to read the sheet in front of you.

“Hey, Eddie,” Tina said in a sweet voice, surprising since she just seemed so stressed by his presence.

You didn’t hear Eddie reply to her but you knew he was still there.

Tina spoke anyway. “I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight? Maybe go to that spot by-”

“I’m busy,” he muttered in a harsh tone.

You turned to see his back as he walked out the shop door, letting it swing closed behind him.

It was dark and you were alone.

Tina and Jessie had both left you to close by yourself.

Again.

It wasn’t something that happened every time you worked together, but it happened often enough to become slightly annoying.

You felt it was a slight against you to see them walk out the door giggling with their arms clasped together while you stayed behind.

You wished you could fit in with them, make them see that you’re cool and normal just like them. You were tired of feeling like you were on a different frequency than everyone else.

It was like no matter how much you tried to get people to like you, they never did. You had always had that issue. No friendship really ever lasted for you; conversations with acquaintances always turned into awkward silences that the other party would escape from.

You locked the front door, the sound of the metal keys jingled against your hand.

You hadn’t parked too far from the door, so it was easy to spot what was sitting on the hood of your car from where you stood.

You had seen the news reports about safety, warnings not to touch things if you found them on your car. But you couldn’t help the trembling hand that reached out and grabbed onto the plastic wrapping of the large bouquet of red roses.

There was a note of thick card stock that was attached to one of the stems by a ribbon.

I’m sorry for earlier -Eddie

Your stomach twisted. Someone you just met, and only had a brief interaction with, shouldn’t be leaving flowers on your car. They shouldn’t be going this far to make an apology to you for being annoying.

You turned, looking behind you but seeing nothing in the empty parking lot besides the bats that were catching the bugs that flew underneath the lamps. You felt like one of those bugs, attracted to something pretty and left as the perfect prey for a beast to sweep in and catch you in its jaws.

Part of you hoped he was hiding somewhere, watching as you did what you did next.

You crossed the lot, the plastic crinkling in your tight grip. A trashcan sat beside the front door, under the awning. You tossed the flowers in easily like you were tossing a basketball into a net.

If you weren't a little scared you would have done a happy dance for scoring the shot.

On the way back to the car you threw up your middle finger, just in case he was still watching. You felt a little stupid, there was nowhere for him to hide in the parking lot without you seeing him and he honestly probably meant to leave the flowers on some other person's car that he bothered today.

They really probably weren’t meant for you. Even if they were, it was probably a joke. A funny trick for the new girl in town.

You threw your finger out the window one last time while pulling out of the parking lot for good measure.

You felt giddy, rebellious to have stood up for yourself today. Twice.

All of that euphoria came crashing down when you pulled down your long driveway, and through the darkness realized that your yard had been mowed for you.

Next Chapter

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson series #eddie munson angst

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mrs-illyrian-baby · 8 months

Text

The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 1

Rules to Follow | Loki x Reader

The Avengers bring you to the compound after a series of odd events draws their attention. Life seems to be looking up, until your abilities start to show again.

Chapter warnings: 18+ for implied sexual content, false/medical imprisonment

Series Masterlist

The cold, bleak conference room was a welcome balm against the uproar of the last two days.

You weren't sure how it happened. One minute you were furious, staring down from the balcony of your flat, anger bubbling through your veins. And then you were watching a row of cars burn in the car park below.

Maybe you would've gotten away with it if the weather was bad. If less people had been around. If it hadn't gone viral on TikTok. If it was the first time you'd done something weird.

It wasn't unusual for people to have strange powers, not anymore, but there were certain rules to follow. Rules that included not setting cars on fire and frightening passersby. Rules your grandfather had set about staying in the flat and controlling your emotions, taking your medicine and laying low.

A hand snapped in front of your face.

“Okay kid, spill. What are you?” Tony asked.

“Uhm, I’m not anything at all?”

“No, come on. Setting shit on fire, what’s that?”

“Monster, alien or wizard?” Sam piped up.

“I swear to god Samuel quit it with that,” a pen flew across the room with surprising accuracy and embedded itself in the wall behind Sam’s head.

You’d seen them on TV, the Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Captain America, Black Widow, Hulk, Vision, Scarlet Witch and Iron Man. It’d be cool if you had any idea why you were here.

“Mr Stark. I didn’t even know I was doing it until it was too late. I don't know how it happens, but I promise I’m not a threat. It wasn't deliberate, you have to believe me." Your voice wavered, tears pooling in your tired eyes.

“Tony, let her sleep. She can use the spare room on our floor. We’ll keep an eye on her”

“Thank you Mr Rogers” you choked, wiping your eyes.

“Steve, please” his face was soft, reassuring.

It took an hour to find you something proper to wear.

A day to get your room fixed up, belongings brought from your little flat in London and new furniture procured

A week before you ate with the team, although you watched them from a safe distance.

A month before you really spoke to anyone. Eventually they called in a therapist.

The compound was nice, spacious and modern. There was no work to do, like at your grandfather's flat, just lots of questions that left you tired and disoriented.

Lauren the therapist was the only person you'd really communicated with, even though you were sure she was relaying the information back to the Avengers anyway.

"So from what I can tell, she's around twenty five to thirty." Lauren addressed the room, taking in the gathered Avengers. "The details of her life are very hazy, she lived in that flat you visited, Steve, with her Grandad. I know she cared for him and he died some months ago leaving her the flat in his will. She takes medication every day." Laura turned to Bruce "I hope the few I managed to pass on were helpful, so you can refill her script when she needs it."

"That's the thing," Bruce said, "I can't work out what she's been taking. I've had FRIDAY take scans and vitals, asked Dr Cho, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with her."

"Because she takes her pills?"

"No, Steve, there's just - there's nothing wrong with her. Her temperature is a little elevated. But that's it, not a dangerous amount. I'd just say she runs warmer."

"So what's in the pills?" Tony asked, leaning over Bruce to look in the manilla file he had spread open on the table.

"If I didn't know better I'd say something alien."

"But you do know better…" Tony prompted.

"Adgardian maybe? But in a bottle from her local pharmacy. The name on the bottle’s been scratched off and I couldn’t find anything like this on any pharmacy database."

Tony and Steve turned to Natasha and she nodded. She'd not been able to find anything either. No phone, no social media, home schooled. Sam suggested they do it the ‘old fashioned way’ and started to encourage Lauren to bring the woman out of her room to spend time with the others in hopes she would make more friends and let more information out.

As you spent more time with the group they found you brought a strange sense of calm, arguments stopped as you approached the table, worries about missions faded away. They even spent more time together as a team organising movie nights and parties, sitting together and being more tactile.

That’s when things started to get very strange.

The old evening routine of everyone slinking off to their bedrooms had been replaced by an easy comradery and then a fizzle of excitement started to build. The music seemed muffled and even Steve and Bucky’s heads felt fuzzy, drunk.

“Let's play spin the bottle!” You declared, downing your beer and lining it up on the coffee table. Before anyone else could fully agree you had flicked the bottle, everyone watched it slow until it came to a stop in front of Wanda.

“You girls don’t have to kiss if you don’t want to,” Steve said. But you shook your head.

“I don’t mind if Wanda doesn’t… I like girls too and it's just a game, right?” you shrugged.

You leaned over and kissed Wanda quickly on the lips, noting the frisson of tension that built when you pulled away.

Sam went next, “your lucky night,” he laughed before pulling you in for a kiss.

The next spin was Natasha and somehow no one was surprised when it landed on you again. Natasha leaned in close but, before her lips could meet yours, you tilted your head to whisper in her ear, “I know there’s someone else you want to kiss, you don’t have to." Natasha blushed, but pressed a warm kiss to your lips anyway.

“Did you rig this bottle?” Steve asked, picking it up before spinning. You, again.

Bucky put his hand on the bottle. “I wonder who” he laughed, but you had noticed his eyes move across the circle to the red headed assassin.

As he leaned in for the inevitable kiss you put your hand up, hiding your mouths, “she’s a good kisser,” the words were out before you could stop them. Bucky pulled back, frowning.

“Who?”

You didn't answer, but your eyes danced across the circle to Natasha, studying Bucky's face as he followed the line of your sight. With their eyes locked you placed a chaste kiss on Bucky’s cheek.

You felt dizzy, only two beers in, but your head was swimming. The rest of the group weren’t fairing any better, both girls falling asleep and the boys nodding back against the sofa. Quietly you removed yourself from the pile of blankets and slunk back to your room. You hadn’t meant to say any of that, but you could feel it deeply, so deeply the words had bubbled out before you could swallow them back down.

That night your sleep troubled you, the room was too warm making you sweat and writhe in the sheets and dreams of the Avengers flashing behind your closed eyes.

The next morning no one could make eye contact, each team member focusing on their coffee or toast, eyes down.

When you sat down the same static spark of electricity seemed to move over the kitchen island, making everyone squirm and move in their seats.

Eventually Wanda completed the group, walking in red faced and nervous as she looked around the kitchen before visibly relaxing.

“Oh, we all had the same dream!” She exclaimed “I don’t feel so bad now.” She said, cheerily.

“Wan, you’re not meant to read our minds,” Natasha protested, covering her ears as if that would make any difference at all.

“Can we not talk about it,” Bucky grumbled, looking away from Natasha.

“But you slept, Bucky, isn’t that good?” At least Wanda was happy, you felt hot and sick “you didn’t have a nightmare like usual, you had the same …”

“Enough,” he snapped, slamming his spoon into his bowl a little too hard, milk splashing on the spotless counters.

“Your dream was different though,” Wanda put a hand on your temple despite your attempt to squirm away, “yeah, yours was very different. And so was yours,” She pointed at Natasha who looked over to Bucky without thinking.

Wanda squeaked, a hand over her mouth “But Bucky, yours was just like…”

“Thats enough, ” Steve stood hands on the counter, “we need to figure out whatever is going on here,” everyone looked away blushing as he crossed his arms, Captain America voice in full effect. “For goodness sake, I’m going to speak to Bruce.”

Steve stormed out and a rush of air moved across the island as everyone breathed out. Wanda let out an awkward laugh, head down so she wouldn't catch the eye of her teammates and left the room.

After that incredibly awkward breakfast you began to pull away from the more open group spaces and started to spend a lot of time in the lab with Bruce while he tried to synthesise your medication. The small unlabeled tube of pills one of Stark’s assistants had packed for you was now empty. But all Bruce had been able to discover was a heavy sedative.

“You shouldn’t have even been able to walk around taking something that strong." He took his glasses off to rub a hand over his face, the fatigue of a sleepless night of experiments catching up to him, "you feel okay now?”

“Yeah”

“But you’re an inch taller than yesterday you said?”

“I’m an inch taller than I was this morning.”

Bruce rubbed his hand on his face, dangling his glasses from the other hand.

“Okay, walk me through what happened again”

“So I sat next to Captain Rodgers and Sergeant Barnes in the kitchen and when I stood up I was an inch taller, I could tell because my jeans were too short.”

“That’s not how growing works,” Bruce took a seat beside you and huffed out a breath.

“I know that I’m not doing it on purpose”

For the last few days you had been slowly growing the trait of anyone you were in close contact with. It was unnerving everyone, looking up and seeing their eyes glowing back, or their hair colour tinged in highlights around your face. But worse still was that there was no clear explanation, none that you could or would give.

It wasn’t the only change the team had noticed. Wanda, Nat, Sam, Steve and Bucky spent the most time together and they had all spent the most time alone together with you. But after only a few days they refused to even enter a room if you were there, prefering to skirt around the edges or take a different route.

They couldn’t forget the night when they played spin the bottle, in fact they had thrown away all the beer of the same brand and there had been no more team evenings suggested.

When you were alone with them a tension seemed to fill in the air. Steve had shifted your training rotation so that no one was ever left alone in the gym with you. Sam admitted you’d almost kissed last time you were alone and, red faced, Wanda agreed. Natasha and Bucky had also blushed, looking at each other out of the corners of their eyes. They complained that you kept trying to make them stand next to each other, and had even locked them into a cupboard 'by accident’ while pretending that you were unable to find the key until Steve freed them.

You couldn’t seem to control the feeling either, a primal urge inside of you growing the longer you were without your tablets. Growling and clawing until you had to excuse yourself and take a handful of the sleeping pills Bruce had given you.

Wanda admitted, as you escaped the building tension for the last time, that this was when her dreams were the most extreme and everyone nodded along. Their nights filled with vivid, primal scenes, moaning and panting, the touch and taste of another filling their senses.

And, though you could hear them talking about you, you could never admit that your dreams were different, that you saw yourself orchestrating their dreams like a puppet master, like a god and you’d wake in a cold sweat.

Frightened, they placed you in the medical wing, a secure room with two way mirrors, sound proofing and, most importantly, a lock. Bruce told you that it was somewhere safe, where you could withdraw from the medication that was dwindling in the little orange bottle. But Tony was relieved that the team could relax now without you around.

Alone, you took another sedative and rolled over in your plastic bed, under the thin sheet, and cried.

The last time the team had met someone who had so easily got inside them and changed their dynamic, they had ended up with an alien invasion. Steve was sure you weren’t in control, thinking about your embarrassment and desperation when Bucky and Natasha were locked in the cupboard, how quickly you left the room whenever the conversation became heated. He was sure, sure , you were safe, that it was just a side effect of whatever you’d been taking all these years and that given time everything would go back to normal.

Tony, however, was taking no chances.

“We need to call Thor.” He suggested as they watched you through the mirror, you were reading a book and running your finger over your lip as you concentrated. With each pass of your finger your lips changed colour, working through shades of pink and red.

“What can Thor do?” Bruce had had enough stress for one month, thank you very much, and was much happier handing out medication until they could find somewhere else to send you. All he needed to do was refine some samples and he’d be able to remake your medication and then he could give Fury the go ahead to have you moved.

“He can bring Loki,” Tony said, jumping up to sit on the tall lab counter and tossing a few blueberries into his mouth.

Bruce looked over at him, one eyebrow raised. “Is that a good idea? The man’s mad.”

“I don’t want to see him anymore than you do. But they could help us figure out if this is magic like them, or a mutation, or if…it’s something else. Then you can pack her off to whichever medical facility you think is appropriate.” Tony waved his hand around in the air as if to demonstrate the unknown fears they all shared. “She shape shifts, Bruce. Loki can do that. And the manipulating thoughts and feelings? Maybe she can learn to control it. We need her to control herself and maybe, maybe , if we’re nice enough, she’ll want to help us too.”

“Do we really want Loki to teach her that, how do we know we can trust him?” Bruce cringed, thinking of the havoc the man had wrought, even if he was being manipulated. Loki was powerful, who knew what he could achieve with a little planning.

“Thor can help keep him in line,” Tony seemed confident and although his confidence was often catching, Bruce still felt the deep simmer of apprehension sitting low in his gut.

“At least we’re not fighting like last time,” Bruce sighed heavily, the memory of his last encounter with Loki still fresh in his mind.

“No, but the sexual tension is killing me. We need to end this.” Tony laughed, thinking back to the red faces of his colleagues and their lack of enthusiasm when he suggested they get drunk and play spin the bottle again.

“Okay, fine, Tony, you win. Call Thor.” Bruce sighed, leaning forward onto the counter and resting his head in his hands.

“And Loki?”

“And Loki."

<;< Masterlist

Part 2>>

#Loki #loki laufeyson #Loki Odinson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki marvel #Loki/Reader #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Loki/You #Loki/female reader #Loki series #The Old Gods and The New

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seeingivy · 1 year

Text

the party scene

roommate eren x f!reader

you and eren won’t dance

**find the series masterlist here

content warning: drinking, hitch and marlowe being annoying, someone gets pushed into a pool, marco getting clowned for his halloween costume, toilet humor

an: ok yall. here’s the chapter. heheheheheh. and you should listen to the song, when you get to it. for vibes of course. to many anon who guessed correctly, hundreds of kisses. not my fav roommates chapters me thinks (but also it seems like everyone else has different fav chapters than I expected so)

previous part linked here

“What are you going to be for the party?”

You can literally see Eren’s ears perk up, breaking his concentration from the dinner he was cooking on the stove. You tried to make ravioli for dinner. Key word, tried. He didn’t let you stand there for longer than two minutes because he didn’t want you to “burn the apartment down.”

You put foil in the microwave one time and suddenly he thinks you’re some arsonist.

“The party on Friday? You’re going, peaches?”

“Yeah. Jean invited me. Kind of being a wingwoman for him and bringing my classmate Marco, who I’m like ninety percent sure he has a crush on.”

Eren turns his face back to the pan, dishing the food around on the plate. You get up occasionally, grabbing things you know he’ll need before he asks for them. Setting the dishes, grabbing the salt (because this man doesn’t know how to season), the Yerba Mate Eren claims to hate but drinks anyways.

“Hitch and I are going as Anakin and Padme. From Star Wars. Apparently, Marlowe loves that crap and she never gave him the time of day for it. She thinks it’ll make him real mad if we show up like that.”

“You should put a braid in your hair. You know, like from the second movie.”

“Ew. I’m going as the third movie look.”

“Good. He’s hotter in that movie anyways.”

He flashes you a smile as he dishes out the food, lifting the plates and setting them on the table. You join him with the drinks, the two of you sitting right next to each other.

It was getting easier. Eren was your friend. Maybe even your best friend. You’d still get the occasional heart pounding, flustered cheesk whenever he walked past you or said something that made your heart flutter, but other than that, you were making progress. You can live with a heart flutter here and there.

“What are you going to be?”

“Jean wants to do some basic angel/devil thing for the party. I’ve got a white dress and he apparently has a halo already so it should be fine.”

“Have you ever been to a party?”

“Yeah. Not really my thing though, but I don’t mind helping Jean. It can be fun with friends. Dancing, letting loose and all that.”

“Hm. Save a dance for me, peaches?”

“I’m not riding up on you, Eren. That’s weird.”

He drops his fork, an exasperated expression spreading across his face. The vein in his forehead is prominent and you always enjoy when it shows up because you know you’ve won. He’s just that easy to aggravate.

“Who said anything about you riding up on me? I didn’t mean it like that. That’s like…perverted. You could expect that type of shit from Jean or something but-”

You place your hand against his forearm, laughing in his face. He stops immediately at the sight of your laughter, glaring at you.

“You’re so easy to piss off, Eren. I’ll save you a dance, okay? A normal one.”

He holds his hand out, gesturing for you to shake.

“Deal?”

“Deal, Ren.”

“Hey.”

“Hi Ren.”

He steps into the bathroom, standing directly behind you as you finish doing your makeup for the party. Jean was supposed to be here in thirty minutes and the two of you were going to go pick up Marco. Meaning, you were going to have to deal with their awkward pining for the ten minute drive to the party.

“Can you help me with something?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Can you help me draw the scar?”

“Oh, yeah. Show me the picture.”

He hands you his phone as you inspect the picture, the scar starting before the eyebrow and breaking just underneath the left eye. He sits on top of the toilet seat, his ankles crossed over each other.

“Ah. Hitch gave me this to use. For the scar.”

He hands you a tube of lipstick, which you slide open and swatch against the back of your hand. Too glittery for a scar.

“Do you mind if I use mine? Hers is kind of glittery and it’ll look kinda weird?”

“Yeah, sure.”

You bend over, digging through your bag to find the one tube of red lipstick you own, that Pieck forced you to buy for her wedding. You can’t show up to my wedding in lip gloss, that’s an atrocity. You find the tube at the end of the drawer, walking over to where Eren was sitting.

As you amble over, you realize that the toilet seat is way too low and you can’t properly reach Eren’s face to reach. You were towering over him, his long legs sprawled across the floor of the bathroom.

“Why are these toilet seats so low? I can’t even get the right angle.”

“Levi. Kenny told me he hates having his feet dangle over certain toilets so he makes sure to get the shortest ones when picking his apartments. As if Levi’s going to come shit in our toilet at some point.”

You nod, trying your best to lean over and indent the mark over Eren’s face. Out of all the angles you try, not one of them works - your head is blocking the light, your hands are in a weird position, you’re all up in his space.

“Just sit on my knee. If it’s easier.”

He splits his legs, tapping on the top of his thigh for you to sit. You nod, setting both of your legs on each side of his one as you lightly perch on top of his leg.

“That’s hovering. Not sitting, Y/N. It’s fine.”

You sigh, pressing your full weight against Eren as you lean back over for the phone and check the picture. As you slide over reaching for it, Eren puts his hands on your waist, holding you from falling off of his knee.

“Thanks Ren. Just wanted to check again before I started.”

You focus on the picture, the light shining against your face as you check where the scar was exactly on your eyes. Eren locks his fingers together behind your waist, pulling you closer so you can get a better look.

“Okay. I think I’ve got it down.”

You cradle the side of his face in your hands as you start drawing the scar on, trying to be as gentle as possible. Trying to avoid the fact that you’re basically straddling him right now. You can feel his cheeks warming under your touch and you try your hardest not to let the smile spread across your face. At least it’s not just you.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing Ren. You’re just blushing, that’s all.”

“You’d blush if you were in my position too.”

You shake your head, pressing your fingers against his lips so you can stop him from moving. You’re only halfway through the scar and if he talks again you’re going to smudge it.

“Since when do you wear red lipstick?”

“I don’t. Pieck made me buy it for her wedding. It’s for special occasions.”

You lean back, cupping his face in your hands as you glean your eyes over the scar. You compare it to the picture and figure it's semi accurate, giving him a smile to signal you’re done. You slide off of his legs, beckoning him to join you in the mirror. You watch him lean forward, eyeing your work.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Can I try?”

“Try what?”

“Doing makeup on you.”

You pause, dropping your lipstick tube back into the box.

“I don’t have a scar for my costume.”

“I know. But you must have something left to do. You just looked so focused, like you were face painting, and I just wanted to try.”

“Um, okay. You can take this glitter. You basically just dip your finger in it and swipe it against my eyelids. And then along the collarbone too, because it's body glitter.”

He nods, taking the white glitter into his hands. He inspects the box first, turning it over and over again, holding it up against the light, smelling it.

“Do you need to do a police inspection on the box? It’s just glitter.”

“Shut up. I was just checking if it was okay to use.”

“It’s obviously okay to use if I’m giving it to you. I’ve used it before.”

He rolls his eyes, learning down. He sets his hands on both sides of your face, angling your face to inspect you this time.

“You’re short.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

“Do you always have to give me attitude?”

“Pretty much.”

“Sit on the counter. It’ll be easier for me to do if we’re closer to the same level.”

You brace your palms against the counter, trying to push yourself onto the counter. You clearly misestimated how tall the counter was because you barely hit the back of the top, stumbling in the air.

“Okay, Humpty Dumpty. Let me help you.”

He reaches down, securing his hands around your waist to lift you up to the counter. You can feel your cheeks burning at the sensation, unable to look him in the eyes.

Right. Because it was getting easier, because he was becoming your friend. But there were still moments like this. Ones where you can feel your cheeks burning, your heart pounding, your fingers shaking.

You hate that he still makes you feel this way.

“Okay, widen your stance.”

“What?”

“Open your legs.”

“Ew. You’re so vulgar, Eren.”

“Well, I said to widen your stance and you gave me that stupid look on your face. It’s your fault.”

You roll your eyes, parting your legs. He steps in between the space, leaning close to your face with the glitter still in his hands.

“So, the eyelids and collarbones?”

“Yeah. You can just use your fingers. You wash your hands after you pee, right?”

“Of course not.”

“What?”

“It’s better for the environment. If I just wait until I have to poop, I can just save water by washing my hands once. You should try it.” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“As if. Girls don’t poop.”

“Yes, they do.”

“No, they don’t.”

“There’s no way girls don’t poop.”

“Ask your mom. Or Mikasa. They’ll tell you the same thing.”

“Okay, stop fucking around. We’re running late.”

“You started it with your stupid toilet humor.”

“Shut up. Your attitude is going to kill me one day.”

“That’s a promise, Yeager.”

He rolls his eyes, a small smile spread across his face as he dips his thumb into the glitter. He cups the side of your face and you flutter your eyes shut, his fingers gentle against your eyes. You can hear him laughing and you squint your eyes, glaring at him as you open them.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing Y/N. You’re just blushing, that’s all.” he responds, his tone mocking.

“Did you do this just to prove a point? It looks like finger painting, my ass.”

“Close your eyes. I’m not done yet.”

You shut your eyes again, Eren sliding the last bit of glitter along your eyes. You open your eyes to find him staring at you, his eyes wide.

“What did you do? Don’t tell me there’s glitter on my forehead.��

“No, it just looks pretty, that’s all.”

You look down, focusing on his hands as he dips into the glitter again. Stupid fucking hands and voice and smell and hair and soft cheeks. You can literally feel your heartbeat all the way in your stomach and he’s barely even touching you.

He uses his hands to tilt your face up, lightly pressing the glitter against the exposed parts of your neck. You feel your body shiver, instantly remembering the last time you and Eren were like this. Pressed up in the bathroom, with him kissing your neck. He presses his hand to your shoulder, his eyes washing over in concern at you shivering.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. Got a weird sense of deja vu, that’s all.”

He nods, finishing off the last of the glitter. When he’s done, he locks his hands across your waist again, lightly setting you back down on the counter as you both stand there. You’re both staring at each other, neither one of you talking first.

Right. Because what are you supposed to say after that? Oh, sorry, I was just thinking of your lips on my neck, my bad.

The doorbell rings and Eren gives you a soft smile before squeezing your shoulder and leaving. You can hear Hitch in the doorway and you try to ignore the way your entire body is steaming.

“What are you even supposed to be, Marco?”

“I’m a space cowboy, Y/N!”

“You’re holding a glittery gun and wearing a flannel. You look like a kid who got lost at Party City and picked the closest thing you could find. You don’t even have a cowboy hat.”

“Ignore her, Marco. I think you look great.”

You watch Marco’s cheeks turn a bright pink, awkwardly stuttering to respond to Jean. Great. They’re going to do this whole oblivious idiots thing all night.

Marco slides into the front as you and Jean walk to the other side, unlocking the car.

“Ignore her, Marco. I think you look great.” you say, mocking Jean’s high pitched voice.

He rolls his eyes, lightly shoving you as you settle into the seat behind him. They’re both talking animatedly, forgetting you were even sitting in the back. You unlock your phone, playing Wordscapes as they go on in the background.

Eren’s eyes were trained on your figure, as Jean and Marco were spinning you around on the dance floor with them for a better part of the last forty-five minutes. He’s been waiting, staring at you, anticipating when you’ll look at him.

You’re driving him crazy. Today, especially. Soft glitters, a willowy white dress, that stupid flowery perfume you wore during the concert. He even likes the stupid halo you have on your head.

He wants to touch you. Press his hands against yours, drag you out and leave with you so he was the only one who could see you like this, your stupid eyes glittering in the light.

He hates that you can still make him feel this way.

He sees you leave, waving off Jean and Marco who were still left on the dance floor. Marco’s wearing your halo and you have the glittery gun Marco was holding.

He’s still watching you. Shamelessly. You weave around people talking, wait to walk forward so you don’t get in the way of pictures, compliment strangers on their costumes.

“What are you staring at?”

“Nothing, Hitch.”

She’s been annoyed for a better part of the last hour, not that he’s been paying much attention to it. Marlowe still hasn’t shown up.

He doesn’t mind the guy. He doesn’t quite understand why Marlowe and Hitch have to play these games - circling around each other, making each other jealous, making up. He figures a part of it is the chase, but he’s always found that part the most agonizing. He’d catch you if he could. He’s been waiting long enough. He’d make you feel good right here and right now.

He watches you leave the room, leaving the heat of the room to the patio outside.

“Mind if I leave? Just call me when he’s here, okay?”

Hitch nods and Eren basically bolts out the door, ready to follow you where you went. But before he can, Jean all but falls right off the dance floor, piled on the floor in front of him. He can see Marco’s hand under him, dragging them both up by their arms. He can tell Jean’s already too far gone and that he has to deal with this first. Then you.

Your feet hurt. Like a bitch. You made the wrong choice of wearing your Doc Martens to the party. You had figured you wouldn’t be moving much, just sticking to the walls and talking to whoever you knew there. But no, of course Jean’s nervous ass had to drag you onto the dance floor with Marco, the three of you spinning in circles.

You had made your safe escape, sitting outside on the patio. You had been watching the wind whistle through the trees in the dead of night, watching the lights in the pool change colors. They had been changing every minute - switching from purple, to red, to green. There were a few stars glittering out, barely sparkling in the sky.

“Anyone sitting here?”

You look up to find a guy with black hair and pale green eyes kneeling down, crossing his legs next to yours.

“No. Well you are, now.”

He smiles, the two of you sitting in silence. You watch people swerve around the pool, girls holding hands, people leaning against the chairs, everyone nursing drinks in their hands.

“I’ve never seen you around here.”

“Yeah. I don’t really come to these things, I just came here with my friend Jean.”

He nods, leaning down to feel the temperature of the water.

“Do you want to play twenty questions?”

You hike your knees against your chest, tangling your fingers together across.

“Sure.”

“Your name is…?”

“Y/N. Yours?”

“Marlowe.”

Right. Hitch’s Marlowe. The guy she was trying to make jealous, the reason Eren was seeing her and not you. Well, not exactly. He said you two were just a mistake but you could have convinced him if she wasn’t in the picture. Semantics. He taps your shoulder and you forget that it’s your turn.

“You play a sport, Marlowe?”

“Water Polo.”

You nod, lightly turning your head to the side. This is wrong. Surely Hitch wouldn’t be the happiest that you were sitting with Marlowe and not her. You can hear the party getting louder behind you and you swear you can hear her screaming in there somewhere.

“Seeing anyone, Y/N?”

“Uh, no. You?”

“Not exactly, Y/N.”

“I have this friend, I think you’d like her. Her name is-”

“Hitch?”

You pause, swallowing as you turn your face to look at him. He’s sitting way too close, an all-knowing look plastered on his face.

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for the suggestion. I’m okay, for now. It’s your turn to ask.”

“Um, okay. Why don’t you want to see Hitch?”

“Because I’m talking to you.”

He untangles his legs and stands up, holding out his hand for you to follow. You press your hand into his and he pulls you up, not letting go of your hand as the two of you stand. The party is getting even louder, the sound of voices drowning out the sound of the music. You’re positive you can hear her now.

“My turn. Do you know a guy named Eren? Plays soccer, green eyes?”

“Uh, no. Never heard of him.”

He nods, squinting his eyes at you. He must know Eren’s your roommate. Maybe he’s found out their together and he’s trying to get you to admit it. You let go of his hand, the two of you standing awkwardly by the pool.

You can’t really tell what he’s getting at, but every part of him irks you out. He’s perfect for Hitch.

“My turn, Marlowe. Are we done now?”

“That’s barely even twenty. But fine, one more question.”

You teeter on the balls of your feet, ready to take off the second he asks his stupid question. He turns to the side, eyeing the window, before asking.

“When was the last time someone kissed you?”

Before you can respond, Marlowe crashes into the pool, with Eren suddenly standing at your side. Eren just pushed Marlowe into the fucking pool. You can hear the sound of footsteps behind you - Hitch, Jean, and Marco at your sides.

Jean and Marco - well wasted beyond their minds - swing their arms around you, slurring as they ask you if you’re okay. Hitch on the other hand is pissed. At Eren.

“What the hell is your problem, Eren?”

“Him, Hitch. He was pissing me off.”

“This wasn’t what I meant when I asked you for help with this Eren. And your stupid roommate wasn’t helping the case either.”

You feel your eyes widen, as you make eye contact with Hitch, awkwardly crossing your arms across each other. You turn back to Jean, who still isn’t paying attention, instead playing rock paper scissors with Marco on the floor.

“You want to be with Marlowe so bad, Hitch? Go ahead and join him.”

He leans over, lightly pushing Hitch into the pool where Marlowe was still watching. He turns to you and ou can tell he’s pissed - that stupid vein on his forehead is showing again. But not in the good way.

“We’re leaving, Y/N.”

He grabs the edge of your wrist, dragging you towards the door as you shake on his hand.

“I drove here with Marco and Jean, Eren. And they’re way too drunk to drive home now.”

You both turn back, leaning over Marco and Jean. Jean’s way too out of it, but Marco looks up, smiling at the two of you.

“You guys are so cute. I love your Anakin and Padme costume.”

Right. Because he took your halo and you took the glittery gun because he kept hitting Jean with it. Eren turns to you, shaking your hand again.

“Armin will come get them. You and I are leaving. Now.”

“But how will he even find them? And what about Marco’s car?”

Eren turns around fully, stopping in the center of the door. He’s pissed, at you now, and you can lightly hear Marlowe and Hitch arguing in the background.

“You can hear them right? Knowing them, they’re going to walk up in a few seconds and start arguing with you and me. And if he says some shit again, I’m going to do worse than just push him into a fucking pool. You and I are leaving.”

He tangles his fingers around your wrist again, his touch still gentle, as the two of you file out of the party, making it back to the apartment.

Eren doesn’t say anything to you as you walk to the car, when you drive home, or even when you stare at him from the confines of your kitchen. He can tell by the look in your eyes that you’re waiting. For an explanation.

But he can’t do that can he? Tell you that the reason he pushed Marlowe in the pull and argued with Hitch is because he can’t stand the thought of him being with you? He can see the entire scene in his head, like he has been for the past hour, his anger burning every time he does.

“Jean, get the fuck up. You too, Marco.”

They both stand up, half leaning on each other. Totally gone.

“Eren. Marlowe’s here.”

He turns to find Hitch at his side, her face scrunched up in anger. Eren waves off Marco and Jean, pushing them towards the kitchen where (he hopes) they’ll find water and sober up a little. There’s no way he’s letting them drive you home, that’s for sure.

“Where?”

“With your stupid roommate outside. What is she doing?”

Eren turns his neck to find you, where he was just about to join you, sitting by the side of the pool. He can see Marlowe sitting next to you, leaning way too close for his liking. He turns back around, pressing his hands against Hitch’s shoulders.

“Get him to leave. Now.”

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

He drags Hitch out by the arm, the two of them leaning their necks so they can hear what you and Marlowe are talking about.

“Seeing anyone, Y/N?”

That’s enough. Eren moves forward, not exactly sure what he’s going to do, but Hitch stops him, pulling him back by the wrist.

“What are you doing, Hitch?”

Hitch digs her fingers into Eren’s wrist, turning to glare at him.

“What the fuck is she doing?”

“He asked her the question, Hitch. Shut the fuck up.”

He’s getting angrier. He can feel it - burning hot, red anger. Because why the fuck is Marlowe talking to you? Asking you if you’re alone? Why are you talking to him when you know he’s here? And why the fuck is Hitch pissed at you like Marlowe’s not the one all over you right now? Don’t you know he’s been waiting for that dance you promised him all night?

“Not exactly, Y/N.”

“I have this friend I think you’d like. Her name is-”

“Hitch?”

He turns back, his turn to glare at Hitch.

“See, Hitch. It’s fucking Marlowe. Now go and stop him.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to stop him? And I have no interest in chasing him.”

“Get mad. Argue and then kiss and makeup. I don’t give a fuck. Just get him to stop fucking talking to her. Now.”

“I already told you. I’m not chasing him.”

“This isn’t fucking about you. Do something now or I’ll call the deal off now. I’ve already done more than enough and you can’t do one thing for me?”

“Why do you even care?”

He turns his neck again, to find you and Marlowe standing, his hand in yours. He can’t stand it. Your hand in his. Because he doesn’t deserve you. No one does. Because he can’t treat you right and Eren can. He’d praise the ground you walk on if you let him.

He hears the last question and he can’t take it anymore.

“When was the last time you were kissed?”

So he does the only thing he can think of. Push Marlowe in the pool. Drag you out of the party, where Hitch and Marlowe and Jean or Marco or anyone can’t talk to you. See you. He hates it. Being possessive, getting jealous. He knows you’re not his. But he can’t fucking stand it. It makes his skin fucking burn thinking of an asshole like Marlowe even touching you, let alone kissing you.

“Earth to Ren?”

He looks back up to find you staring at him, awkwardly brushing your hands against your forearms. Right. Because you’re still waiting for a fucking answer and he can’t tell you. Tell you that the thought of another man touching you drives him crazy, that the only person who could touch you right, make you feel good was him.

“You’re doing that thing again. I can see the steam coming off of your head.”

He deflates, leaning against the counter as he watches you. You’re moving from the side, pressing the glass of water in your hand to the dispenser in the kitchen. It’s pissing him off even more. The thought of someone seeing you like this - bedhead in the morning, focused when you’re doing your makeup, half asleep on the couch. He can’t fucking stand it.

“So. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay, Darth Vader. No need to growl at me.”

Fuck. Everything is pissing him off. Everything.

“Let’s think about something else, yeah? We don’t have to talk about it just….stop being so pissy.”

You’re at his side, circling the glass of water in your hand.

“Fine. The answer to the question. What was it?”

“What question, Ren?”

“The one Marlowe asked you. Before I pushed him in the pool.”

When was the last time you were kissed? In the bathroom, when Eren had his lips pressed to your neck.

“A real kiss, Y/N.”

Eren Yeager, mind reader.

“Oh. Um. A while ago, maybe a year? It was back when I was dating Floch.”

Eren turns his neck, his eyes flashing at you as you look at him. He looks less angry, his eyes more concerned than murderous like they were a few seconds ago.

“I don’t even think I can remember. I don’t know - he never really liked that stuff. Affection, compliments, all that.”

“Did you ask him to? Do that stuff?”

“At first, yeah. But he never did.”

Now he’s even more pissed. Because an asshole wanting to kiss you, him doing it all wrong is infuriating enough. But the fact that you had to ask someone to do it? He’d literally drop on his fucking knees if you gave him the chance and you had to ask someone for it?

Eren does the only thing he can. The only thing he knows how to do. He wraps his arms around you, tucking your face against his neck as he holds you.

It was either this or kissing you, full on like he wanted to. But he can’t really do that. So hugging it is. He hears you murmur against his shoulder, your arms pressing against his back.

“S’okay Eren. What are you so mad about?”

“You said we didn’t have to talk about it. And no. It’s not.”

“We don’t. But I think this is less about whatever happened and more about whatever just-”

He tightens his grip on you, the pressure of his arms silencing you.

“I’m mad because you should be kissed. Often. And by someone who knows how. Like they can’t get enough of you, like you’re the air they breathe, like you’re inventing kissing just by putting your lips together.”

Shit. He said too much.

You stand in silence, staring at him as he finishes talking. Oh he messed up big time.

He watches the smile spread across your face, your eyes still in the dim light of the kitchen. Stupid fucking glitter. He’s going to go into the bathroom and throw it out.

“Didn’t realize you cared so much, Ren.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Why do you?”

“Why do I what?”

“Care so much, Eren?”

You watch him constrict his fists again, his jaw clenched.

“Selfish reasons.”

You walk up to the counter where he’s leaning over, lacing your arm through his. You push your hands into his fists, forcing him to stop clenching his hands so hard. You can tell his anger is dissipating, his shoulders slowly tensing as you touch him.

“Selfish reasons?”

“I don’t want to see you unhappy or anything. You’re like...my best friend right now. Is it so weird that I want you to be happy?”

You smile, leaning your head against his shoulder. Fucking idiot.

“No, Ren. It’s not weird.”

You both stand like that for a while, your head pressed against his shoulder. He’s still tense, his heart pounding against your ear.

“So I say all this nice shit to you and you have nothing to say back?”

“Nope.”

“Nothing at all.”

You shake your head, watching him begrudingly smile at you as you two smile In the kitchen. You stand there for a while, the anger, awkwardness, wearing off. It’s just you two, standing in the light of your kitchen.

“You promised me a dance. You never even gave me one, Ren.”

“I’m not riding up on you, Y/N.”

“I’m heartbroken.”

You both laugh and Eren leans over, grabbing your phone from the side. He puts a song on - I Won’t Dance by Fred Astaire - and holds his hands out. You lean forward, knotting your hands behind his back as he presses his hands to your waist.

“You know Fred Astaire, Ren?”

“Old timey shit. My parents love it.”

You tangle your hands behind his neck, the two of you dancing in the dim light of your kitchen.

You hate this. That you want to lick all his wounds, hold him till his anger goes away. That you want to dance like this in the kitchen with him, all the time.

He hates this. That it’s this easy for you to fix it all for him. For you to make it better. That he wants to hold you, make you feel good every night.

Do you love each other?

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sluttywonwoo · 7 months

Text

instead of you [part thirty-two] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of sex (mdni ; 18+)

word count: 2.2k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

The first time you met Jisung was at a party on campus. It was a month into your first semester of college and one of the frats had passed out fliers in the residence halls in the hopes of getting lots of the freshman girls to attend.

You had dragged your roommate with you, insisting that you needed to get out there and start meeting people since you were each other’s only friends thus far.

But the joke was on you because she ditched you not even five minutes after arriving, having recognized an ex-boyfriend from her hometown. You didn’t hold it against her, you had been the one to convince her to come in the first place and you understood the whole ex thing.

But you were a lot shyer back then, less confident. So you stumbled your way through the house until you reached the kitchen. No one had offered to make you a drink yet so you figured you might as well make one yourself. You’d need a little liquid courage if you were going to get the balls to talk to any of these people anyway.

That’s where you ran into Jisung. He was bent over the stove cooking what looked to be a grilled cheese sandwich. He turned his head when he heard you come in and nodded at you in acknowledgement.

“Want one?” he asked.

“What is it?”

“Grilled ham and cheese.”

You nodded. “Hit me.”

He finished simmering the one in the pan and slid it onto a paper plate before grabbing the ingredients for yours.

“How long have you lived here?” you asked conversationally.

“Oh, I don’t live here.”

“Are you a pledge then?”

“No.”

“You’re not… affiliated with this frat?”

“Nope.”

“Are your friends?”

“Nah.”

“So you’re just…”

“Stealing their food? Kind of.”

You shrugged. “I won’t tell.”

He cracked a smile. “Good, because I’d really regret making you a sandwich if you did.”

You hadn’t noticed until that point but he had an accent.

“English?” you asked.

“Yes, that’s what we’re speaking. Why, do you know another language?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know what I meant.”

“No, I’m from Korea, actually,” he explained after chuckling. “But my English tutor was British so I picked up a little bit of an accent.”

“What made you decide to come all the way over here?”

“A mix of things, really,” he sighed.

“You’re probably tired of that question, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I just don’t have an interesting answer or anything so conversations usually fizzle out after that.”

“I get it. It’s like when everyone in your hometown asks you what you’re going to study and what job you’re getting your degree for.”

“Pretty much,” he agreed. “Your grilled cheese is ready.”

He plated the sandwich and handed it to you, turning the stove off and depositing the pan and spatula in the sink.

“Thank you!”

“You might want to let it cool down a bit, though.”

“Yes, chef.”

He gave you a look, making you freeze in place.

“What? Should I not call you that?”

“No, it’s just- I’m a culinary major. I’m always saying that to my professors but no one’s ever said that to me before. I know you didn’t mean it mean it but it sounded weird.”

“I was just referencing Hell’s Kitchen,” you admitted.

“Just so you know, not all chefs are like Gordon Ramsay.”

“Only the majority?”

He winked at you. “Bingo.”

“So if you don’t want me to call you ‘chef’, what should I call you?”

“I never said I didn’t want you to call me that,” he clarified. “But you can call me Jisung.”

“Jisung. Nice name.”

“Thanks. Do you have one?”

You grinned. “I do.”

He gave an exasperated little sigh. “And what is it?”

You told him, leaning forward and whispering it like it was a secret.

“You have a nice name too.”

“Thank you.”

“By the way, your sandwich should be cool enough to eat by now.”

You leaned back against the island and took a bite of your grilled cheese. Jisung gauged your reaction, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“Good?”

“Great. Best grilled cheese sandwich I’ve ever had.”

“Don’t fuck with me,” he warned.

“I’m not! Listen, I can’t cook for shit so I’m very easy to impress.”

“I’ll take your word for it. It’s better for my ego if I ignore the last part.”

“I can make a mean Moscow Mule, though. My talents lie in mixology, not gastronomy.”

“Make me a drink, then?” he asked.

“Gladly.”

You set your paper plate on the counter and made your way over to the fridge.

“Let’s see what they have in here.”

“Oh, now you’re the one stealing food?”

“Guess that makes us partners in crime.”

You fell silent as you looked over the contents of the refrigerator, gathering a bottle of orange juice and half-empty jar of raspberry jam. You checked the expiration dates before continuing because you didn’t trust frat guys and then set them on the island with a handle of tequila that had been left out.

Jisung watched as you spooned the jam into an empty solo cup, visibly skeptical. You couldn’t blame him for not trusting you, you had just met him, after all. You poured the orange juice in next and mixed the two together, finally adding a shot and a half of tequila.

“Don’t want to get you too drunk,” you explained.

He scoffed. “You think that’ll do me in? I’m Korean, remember?”

“Fine, suit yourself.”

You poured what you approximated to be another shot of tequila into the cup. You filled another cup with ice from a nearby cooler and poured the contents of the first cup into it. Instead of shaking them and risking making a huge mess, you rolled them between the cups until you were satisfied that everything was properly mixed.

You presented Jisung with your creation, eyes shining. “Here you go! It’s a makeshift tequila sunrise.”

Jisung reached for it but you stopped him abruptly. “Wait! Hold on.”

You took a sip of the drink yourself, just to make sure it was actually palatable, before passing it off to him.

“Sorry, wanted to check.”

“Not confident in your abilities all of the sudden?“ he mused.

“I’m trying something new,” you grumbled defensively, “artists make mistakes. I’m not above admitting that and therefore want to quality check my products to make sure it’s good enough for my consumers.”

“Didn’t realize you were taking this so seriously.”

“I take everything seriously.”

He eyed you suspiciously. “Something tells me that’s not true.”

That night, and all the others you spent with Jisung flashed before your eyes like some sort of sick slideshow as you stood there with him in the hallway. The fractures in the glass were beyond repair now, spindling inward threatening to shatter.

You supposed it was what you deserved, watching your relationship with your best friend crumble right in front of you.

“Why do you ask?” you said quietly, still testing the waters.

“You think I haven’t noticed you sneaking off every night?” Jisung demanded.

“Uh-”

“At first, I thought you just needed some space. And I understood because you’ve been stuck with us for over a month now, but then it happened every night and you’d be gone for so long,” he sighed. “So finally, I followed you-”

“You what?”

“I know, I’m such a bad friend for invading your privacy.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm and you could already feel the tears welling up.

You tried to hold them back because you didn’t deserve to cry. You’d put yourself in this situation, and you knew it was wrong, but you still did it anyway. You clutched your towel closer to your body, trying to shrink into yourself.

“I heard what I needed to,” he continued. “So how long have you been fucking my brother?”

“Jisung, I-”

“I asked you a question.”

“Long enough,” you muttered. “He found out we weren’t actually dating. I didn’t tell him-”

“That makes it better?”

“No, I just thought you should know.”

“What does it matter anyway,” he spat. “We had an agreement. You had one task and you couldn’t even do it. I should have never invited you on this goddamn trip.”

You couldn’t help but agree. “I’m sorry.”

Jisung laughed humorlessly and shook his head. “I don’t believe you. If you actually felt any guilt over this you never would have done it. Or you would’ve at least stopped before it got to this point.”

“No, I am sorry,” you tried. “It’s just…”

“Just what?” he asked, eyes widening suddenly. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

For a fraction of a second, you were thrown back in time. The best friend that didn’t hate you was suddenly standing in front of you, eyes full of concern. It passed just as quickly as it had come when you denied it.

“No, it’s just… I f- I’m in love with him.” You couldn’t even look Jisung in the eye when you said it, too afraid of his reaction.

It was dead silent all throughout the house after your confession. You stared at the floor where a puddle had appeared at your feet from your dripping hair.

He chuckled again in disbelief, breaking the silence.

“You’re not in love with him,” he said matter-of-factly. “You don’t even know what love feels like. You’ve only known him for a fucking month, how could you possibly love him?” You were crying now, furiously wiping away the tears that fell onto your cheeks. “You’re just lonely, y/n, and desperate, and grasping at straws for anything that feels like ‘love’.”

“That’s not true,” you insisted. You weren’t sure why you were trying to defend yourself. He was probably right.

“It is true! I’ve known you for how many years now? You’ve never had a real relationship with anybody. How could you possibly know what love feels like?”

You shook your head adamantly, convincing yourself he didn’t mean what he was saying. “You’re lashing out.”

“Is it lashing out if it’s true?” he quipped.

You swallowed hard, choking a bit.

“I can’t fucking believe this. My best friend and my brother. I went away to school to be on my own and have my own life, and somehow Minho manages to take that too.” He was mostly talking to himself now. “What if someone else had caught you two? How fucked up would that have looked? I put no flirting with my brothers on the list of rules for a reason, obviously. Although I guess it didn’t matter in the end anyway, did it? You didn’t take them or this seriously.”

“Ji, that’s not true and you know that. I’m the one who wrote out those flashcards. I memorized all that stuff about your family. I flew halfway around the world for you— I did take it seriously.”

“Until Minho offered his dick to you on a silver platter?”

“Oh my god!”

“Am I wrong?”

You sighed. “It’s a lot more complicated than that.”

“Explain it to me then. When did this all start anyway?”

“Minho kissed me for the first time in, um, Italy.”

“Oh my god, I’m the biggest fucking idiot in the world,” he groaned.

“But it wasn’t like that then… he still thought we were together then.”

Jisung threw his hands up. “That makes it worse!”

“I know but he was drunk.”

“That’s not an excuse. You of all people should know that.”

You let the dig slide since he was in an emotional state and you were in no position to argue anyway.

“I know.”

“So you guys have been sneaking around behind my back for like a fucking month now?”

“We didn’t sleep together until Shanghai, when he found out we weren’t together. But I feel like I should tell you I kissed him in Japan. Just so that you know everything.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” Jisung deadpanned. “Thank you for being so honest.” He spat the last word at you, which again, was deserved, but hurt nonetheless. You sniffled. “I can’t believe you’re the one crying right now.”

You couldn’t believe that Jisung wasn’t crying but then again he wasn’t the type to cry when he was angry. He only cried when he was sad, and that probably hadn’t hit him yet.

You were starting to get cold wearing nothing but a towel but tried not to let it show. Of course, Jisung noticed instantly. He sighed as you shivered and pursed his lips. Even when he was furious with you, even when your relationship was irreparably damaged, he cared about you. It wasn’t something he could just turn off, though maybe with time, he’d learn to.

“Anyway, go to bed. I’m going to sleep on the couch.”

“O-okay,” you mumbled.

Jisung brushed past you abruptly, muttering to himself loud enough for you to hear.

“God, I wish I’d never fucking met you that night.”

You bit down on your lip as hard as possible to choke down a sob. All you could do was stand there motionlessly and stare at the floor. You waited for him to walk away into the living room but the footsteps stopped suddenly.

“Oh, and a word of advice-”

“Hm?” You turned around to face him, trying your best to pull yourself together.

“You should try getting over your feelings for Minho as fast as possible. He doesn’t love you back. He’s just using you, babe. I know he’s pretty smooth but that’s why he’s so good at his job. Easier said than done, I know, but you’re a smart girl. You’ll figure it out.”

hard one to write (and i imagine to read) but lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

iou tags: @gimmeurtmi @phobia0325 @fwess @hipsofafangirl @galaxleeknow @urmomma0324 @bangmechanpls @102598s @farfromsugafanfic @ritzy-roo @dimpledsatan @bvslines @wonderfulshinee @imwithurmother @smollquokka @rosexjimin @skizzel @endzii23 @lady-lena @kwanisms @ch4nniebang @lilramennoodle @babyphotos0325 @dearalice @sojohns @mistlitmoonlight @yoontaethings @babebatter @mal-lunar-28 @shy-kisu @zerefdragn33l @downbadreading @saquso @bunnispaces @reianagarcia @hyunehans @imtooyoungforthisshitbaby @i8rsie @honeslykindahorny @214racha @hgema @chillllli @vixensss @smhlino @feiyaa @borahae-reads @bigbearenergy @hoodiesandicedcofee @darkacademic2512 @y00nzin0 @i8yul @shinypieceofgarbage @woozarts @just-a-little-delulu @djeniryuu @hbzzzbork000 @mimzibee @sofiaslayed @kangyounghyunhands @lexxxxs-things @baejinswrld @gaysontheprince @emogril @ngengngeng @tenshimara @stopeatread @seungminniesgf @lydatataylorsversion @cheolbs @bxnnyhwa @zheav @pinkskiesdream @soohyukazz @spearb-gf @lonely00sbrat @lino1ino @simple1605 @ninashellhole @yoorimin @catiuskaa @gemini-demon @kronikk

add yourself to the taglist here!

#instead of you stray kids #instead of you skz #iou stray kids #iou skz #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x female reader #skz x female reader #lee know x reader #lee know x female reader #lee know x bi!reader #stray kids series #lee know series #lino x reader #lee minho x reader #minho x reader

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honeyhotteoks · 6 months

Text

this night together - chapter ten (j.yh + s.mg)

chapter ten: the truth

chapter summary: seonghwa needs a friend and you say goodbye to your friends and goodbye to them as tour begins.

warnings: nothing too explicit except there is a frank discussion about alpha/omega/beta dynamics and pack dynamics that somewhat mirror real life lgbtqia+ issues like family not being accepting, societal pressures, etc.

notes: thank you all for waiting for me, i can't thank you enough honestly. it took a while to push through and get through the middle of this fic, but we're there. today (12.3) is a special update day, i'm posting three chapters - ten, eleven, and twelve. make sure you're reading in order starting here!

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader

genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 5k

previous chapter | next chapter | AO3

Surprisingly the next few weeks pass with relative ease. It’s not painful like before, the crushing weight of their cold isolation. This time you all know exactly where you stand, and with you asking them for space it feels like you’re a little more in control of when and how the next conversation with them occurs.

You spend the weeks working, keeping things cordial in the studio, and seeing your friends. Keeping things busy gives you less time to step back into that studio room and wonder what you should have done differently, so you fill your schedule up to the brim. In looking forward to the tour and the impending lack of your social circle, you start to reach out little by little to other members of the BB Tripping group too.

There’s a gap in your life without them, but for now that has to be okay. For now, you grow your life in every other way you can.

You’re able to focus on everything else until Seonghwa calls.

Little cafe meetups aren’t out of the ordinary for you both, but meeting at a new spot halfway across Seoul is. You’re normally so attached to the neighborhoods around the studio, so the idea that you’d actually have to take the subway and follow directions on your phone sends little warning signals up your back. He sounded mostly fine on the phone, but something a little whispered in his tone left you agreeing to meet immediately.

He said he just wants to see you one more time before the tour, but you feel the strange bubble of pretense around the whole set up. When you finally get there, after thirty minutes and much confusion, he meets you at the door with a clear expression of relief. He buys you a coffee and a fancy tiered pastry, and then shuffles you towards the empty, far end of the cafe.

“The trip wasn’t too bad?” He checks as he pulls out your chair, “I wanted to try this place,”

A smooth lie, but you’ll let it go, “It was fine,” you assure him, “this street is cute,”

“Mm,” He nods.

You have so, so many questions, but you start small, “Three months,” you sigh, settling into the seat, “it feels kind of weird,”

“Yeah,” Seonghwa pushes your chair in and takes his own seat, “it’s hard to pack for a tour,”

“I can’t even imagine,” You grimace.

“You get really sick of miniature toiletries after about a week,” He says, “and you’d think that all the travel would be great, but you end up sitting in hotel rooms most of the time.”

“Well,” You shrug, “you can always call me for an update on the studio,”

“Oh, I will,” He laughs, “the time difference is pretty tough though,”

“Still,” You insist, “we’ll make it work.”

Silence lulls between you, he nods at your words but doesn’t say much else, and you watch as he fingers fiddle with the handle of his cup, restless and seemingly on edge. He needs something, you just don’t know what.

“Seonghwa,” You murmur, “is everything okay?”

“Yes,” He drops his hand into his lap, “completely fine,”

You chew the inside of your lip, wondering whether to press him, “Are you sure?”

He looks down for a moment and then nods, “Everything is fine, but I wanted to talk to you about something,”

“Okay,”

“Me and San,” He says in a rush of exhaled breath.

“Oh,” Your eyes widen, completely blindsided by his words. You thought if he chose to share this with you it would be months, years even. He was so closed off after your heat that you assumed you’d let it lie, just like Wooyoung, but here you are.

“You said I could talk to you about this,” He continues when he sees your expression, “but if,”

“Of course you can,” You shake off your expression as fast as you can, “I just didn’t know that’s what you were going to say.”

“It’s just that I’ve been thinking a lot about it,” He says, “especially considering everything you’ve been dealing with,”

You nod, but keep quiet.

“I don’t know, I thought it would be good to get it out there,” He confesses.

“Then I’m here, I’m listening,” You lean forwards, nodding again in encouragement.

He takes a moment to get his words together, and it suddenly makes sense why he wanted to try a cafe in a neighborhood neither of you lived or worked near. He reached out to you to talk about this, to finally share with someone, and he wanted to be one hundred percent sure no one from your lives would overhear.

“Our thing,” Seonghwa nods and you know he means his relationship with San and Wooyoung, “it started off a lot like yours.” He doesn’t need to say their names, you know who he means.

You smile, “Accidental and stressful?”

“Definitely accidental,” He nods, “we had been friends for years, and Wooyoung always dealt with his heats outside of work and without us really knowing much about it,”

“Really?” You find that hard to believe with how much he overshares.

“Mhm,” Seonghwa turns the cup on his saucer one way and then back the other as he figures out how to start. “Usually anyways, but about two years ago he was out for his heat leave like normal, and he called San in a panic. The alpha he arranged to meet flaked out on him and he was too far gone at some heat hotel in Incheon. He didn’t have anything he needed, the alpha was supposed to bring it all,”

“God,” You grimace at the thought.

“Exactly,” Seonghwa nods, “he was in a lot of pain and he was really scared,”

“Of course,”

“San called me,” Seonghwa explains, “he was nervous about spending Wooyoung’s heat with him, even though he agreed.”

You nod, but stay quiet to give him the space to continue.

His eyes dart down, a little unfocused as he sinks into the memory of it, “He was so concerned about hurting Wooyoung or doing the wrong thing, and he was begging me to give him advice. Advice just turned into me offering to drive him to Incheon and helping him shop for supplies, and before you knew it I was up in the room with them both.”

“Wooyoung was okay with that?” You ask.

He nods, “Wooyoung was fine, more interested in making sure neither one of us was uncomfortable between his heat spikes,”

You nod again.

Seonghwa looks back up to you then and sighs, “Before Youngie’s heat, I had a bit of a crush on San. It was really nothing, just a bit of a flirtation in my mind. Someone to think about alone at night, you know,”

“Yeah,” You think of Yunho for a brief, flashing second and the way you used to watch him around the studio.

“But that heat changed everything,” He smiles, a little sadly, “I think you know what I mean.”

You fight the urge to reach across the table and take his hand, fearful that you might break his willingness to open up.

“The funny part,” He says, a fresh crease between his brows, “is that San felt the same way. We both knew alpha pairings were a little unorthodox, but for a while we didn’t care. We carried on for a few months, but we kept it quiet so it didn’t interfere with work or any of our friendships.”

Your eyes widen.

“Wooyoung still doesn’t know about that part,” He says quietly, “so I’d appreciate it if you kept that between us,”

“Of course, Hwa,”

“Things started to go further though. We were going on dates without calling them dates, sleeping at each other’s places, leaving things behind. We were texting all the time, sneaking kisses in the locker room,” He explains, “we just couldn’t leave each other alone.”

He goes quiet again, and this time you do reach across the table, resting your hand over his twitching fingers, “What happened?”

He swallows tightly and he looks away again, but his hand turns under yours to press your palms together, “One morning San asked if I wanted to spend the weekend in Namhae, he missed his family and thought it would be nice if we all spent some time together.”

“Oh,” You breathe, the pieces of their story falling together in front of you so easily.

“I couldn’t do it,” He confesses, “and I said some things I shouldn’t have. I told him that I loved him, but that our friendship was what mattered to me, and that we were kidding ourselves by not trying to find omegas of our own.”

Your cringe, “Seonghwa,”

“I know,” He breathes, his head dropping, “it was cruel.”

“Your relationship,” You squeeze his hand, “what you had with San wasn’t wrong, you know that right? It’s perfectly,”

His head snaps up, “I know it’s not wrong.”

It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room at the expression in his eyes, fierce determination as he snaps to defend himself. You stay silent.

“I’m sorry,” He shakes his head, pulling his hand back, “I do know that, that’s not why I broke it off.”

“Then,”

“My family is very traditional,” Seonghwa says, “they believe that alphas and omegas are made as a perfect match. They believe that every alpha has a destined omega and that a bond, a claim, should be between one alpha and one omega only.”

“That’s so,” You trail off, unable to really form the words. Traditional is a kind, sanitized word for what it is. You would have said bigoted, downright prejudicial, and your chest aches at the idea that he grew up cocooned in that kind of indoctrination.

“Hypocritical,” His cheek twitches, “considering my parents loathe each other.”

You smile at that, “I’m sorry,”

He shrugs, his cool exterior slotting back into place, “It’s a shame that we’re not a scent match, honestly. My parents would be so proud of me if I brought you home,”

You take his hand again, brushing smoothly past his comment, “Are they so traditional they don’t believe in packs either?”

“That’s worse,” He crinkles his nose, “to them.”

Packs have always been a little controversial, especially with the rise in beta designations and the decreasing likelihood that omegas will find a true honest-to-god scent match, but it’s not unheard of. Polyamory and packs have started to crop back up in popular media, and it’s becoming more and more common to see an omega paired with two or more alphas despite the traditionalist view that it’s a return to baser, more primal instincts. You were raised knowing packs were an option, but as you listen to Seonghwa and understand his past, you know everything for him was the opposite.

“I really am sorry,” You murmur, “it must have been difficult to grow up surrounded by that mindset.”

He nods, and then takes a long sip of his untouched coffee.

The threads are coming together more clearly, but there’s still a question lingering in your mind and the words leave you without any real consideration, “If you don’t believe that, then why break it off with San?”

He grimaces, “My parents are fairly wealthy,”

Your stomach turns icy.

“And you know the money in dance isn’t exactly overwhelming,” He explains, “they’ve always offered their financial support to me, but it’s incredibly conditional.”

“Hwa,” You breathe.

“San thought I chose the money over him,” Seonghwa leans back in his chair, separating your hands again and resting his wrists on the edge of the table, “I tried to explain the situation to him, I tried to apologize for what I said and ask him for more time… time to figure everything out and to be able to be financially independent from them, but all he heard was that I wasn’t willing to lose the money.”

You shake your head, but he keeps going.

“You know how he is, he’s more headstrong than anyone I’ve ever met. Once he has an idea, there’s no telling him differently.” Seonghwa explains.

“But it’s not true,” You’re suddenly so frustrated with Choi San you could wring his neck.

“It is what it is, y/n,”

“But,” You trail off, deflated, “aren’t you still seeing each other?”

“No,” He says firmly, “only for Wooyoung’s heats.”

“And that’s what? Working out fine?” Your eyebrows dart up.

“For now,” He sighs, “and I’m under no big illusion that he’s going to forgive me and we’re going to go riding off into the sunset. He told me he wanted to be friends and he wanted us to continue being there for Wooyoung and we just let it go back to the way it was, and honestly,” his voice softens, “I’ll take some of him, even if I can never have all of him.”

“Oh, Hwa,”

His eyes are a little watery, but it clears quickly and he clears his throat, “Anyways, that’s it. That’s the tragic little story.”

“That’s just not fair,” You shake your head, “you should be together,”

He shakes his head, “Maybe, but I’m not willing to risk losing what I do have.”

“If San understood,” You start.

“Listen,” He cuts you off, “I know it seems like there should be this big movie scene, where we both admit we hurt each other and put it all behind us, and build a little pack together and have lots and lots of babies, but I just don’t think that’s going to happen. I’ve made peace with that.”

You can see plainly that he hasn’t, but in the same way he doesn’t push you on your relationship with Yunho and Mingi, you take a calculated step back from pressing down on this particular nerve.

“Okay,” You say, “well then thank you for telling me, and I’m here if you ever need to talk about it.”

“Thank you,” The air leaves him in a relieved rush.

“And Woo doesn’t know?” You’re hard pressed to believe that.

He shrugs lightly, “He knows something, we’ve spent enough heats together for him to see what’s there, but it’s not something we discuss.”

“Got it,” You murmur.

“And you?” He turns the conversation back with ease, “Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”

You nod, “I’m just going to leave it for a while. I’ll apologize when they come back and the air is cleared a little,”

“Apologize?”

“They’re not the only ones who’ve messed things up,” You tell him honestly, “and if I could take back what I said, I would.”

“Me too,” Seonghwa smiles softly.

“Besides,” You lean back in your chair, “you’ll all be gone tomorrow, and I’m sure I’ll talk to you and Woo and San, but you’ll be busy and in a completely different timezone. It’ll be for the best,”

“Maybe a change of scenery will be good for them,” Seonghwa adds.

“I hope so,” You murmur.

“I’m honestly surprised they haven’t said anything to me,” He points out, “but it’s been the same as always,”

“Really?”

He nods, smiling a little, “I thought for a second Mingi was being a little cold, but he just had earbuds in and couldn’t hear me,”

You laugh sharply, “Well,” you shrug, “I really gave it to them. Maybe they realized being jealous isn’t a good look, especially if we’re ever going to get the chance to be friends or try this again with a clean slate.”

Seonghwa chews at the inside of his lip for a moment and then sighs, “y/n, do you want to know what I really think?”

You dip your head, gesturing for him to continue.

“I think they’re idiots, and I think they acted like assholes and you deserve an apology for it,” You can sense that there’s something more and he continues, “but I’ve made those mistakes. I’ve pushed away someone I care about, I’ve said the wrong things, and I’ve had a hell of a time trying to patch it back together.”

Your stomach twists.

“I’m not telling you what to do,” He says, “but I’ve known Yunho and Mingi for a long time. I see the way they look at you, the way they talk about you. There’s more than just an attraction there, there’s something real for all of you.”

“That’s the part that’s terrifying,”

“Yeah,” He nods, “and you know, maybe don’t take advice from me, the guy whose love life is beyond a mess, but I also don’t want you to regret anything here.”

You reach for his hand again and take it without hesitation.

“I just need to think it through,” You say softly, “and then be brave,”

Seonghwa nods. You think that maybe if you can be brave, he can too, but you both let that thought lie in the space between you untouched. You don’t need to press him, not after everything he just shared with you and how much more you’re sure is there under the surface, but the thought is still understood by you both just the same.

“I know you’ll do what’s best for you,” Seonghwa adds after a moment, “but until then,”

“Until then let’s not think about it anymore,” You finish his words for him.

He takes another deep breath, and you can see the way telling his secret has lifted something away from his shoulders. He takes another long sip of his coffee and then finally he says, “Do you have anything else you’re doing today?”

You shake your head.

“Want to wander around and help me buy unnecessary travel accessories?” He grins.

“Seonghwa,” You squeeze his hand, “I would love nothing more,”

“Great,” He runs a hand through his hair, “then let’s go back to Hongdae, I don’t know any of the stores over here.”

“You owe me a train ticket,” You nudge him as you start to gather up your things.

“I bought you a coffee,” He points out, standing with you.

“You always buy my coffee,”

“Fine,” He rolls his eyes but you can see that it’s playful, “I’ll buy you a little thank you present for coming all the way out here,”

“That’s more like it,” You tease, pressing yourself up on your tiptoes and giving him a quick peck on the cheek, “now let’s go home,”

Despite your long goodbye afternoon with Seonghwa, it’s harder to really say goodbye to them all on the day than you thought it would be.

When the last practice before their flight is over, everyone dressed in their coats and hats and ready to go for the night, all of the BB Trippin crew lingers in the front entrance hall. Well wishes, talks of food to try, jet lag tips, the weather. You try to ignore the full suitcases by the door.

It isn’t until the very last moment that the real feeling of it starts to sink in.

Wooyoung’s arms are banded tightly around you when the realization of just how long three months is barrels over you in full force. You take a hitched little breath hiding in his shoulder and get your emotions in check, but it’s starting to become readily apparent now. You’re going to miss them, not just your friends, but them too.

There’s a part of you that fantasizes about throwing up your hands and confessing all your conflicting feelings, chasing them down in the airport like an old movie and laying it all on the line, but you’re not going to actually do that. It’s not fair to anyone if you do something like that. You laid out boundaries for the past few weeks, they more than respected them, and you have no doubt they’ll stay silent over the next few months just like you requested.

“I’m not going to war,” Wooyoung laughs, squeezing you back once as he tries to extricate himself from your arms, “it’s just tour,”

“No, I know, I know,” You clear your throat softly, “I’m going to miss you though,”

“Me too,” He smiles, running a hand through his hair as he steps back.

When you step back from him, Mingi and Yunho are closer than they were a few moments ago and they’re keeping their eyes elsewhere but you can’t let them go without a single word. You can’t. If anything happens to them you’d regret it so deeply, and your hand shoots out to brush along Mingi’s arm.

His eyes flash with recognition for a second, but he remains cool and calm when he turns to you and you watch Yunho follow suit.

“Have safe flight,” You manage, your chest tight at the idea that this is really it.

“You too,” Mingi says and then he sighs as he realizes his mistake, “not flight, obviously,”

“Right,” You smile, his awkwardness breaking the tension between you so easily.

“Be safe here,” Yunho offers, correcting the sentiment, “and good luck with all the debut preparation, I know it’ll go smoothly with you and Dahan handling things,”

Your chest warms, “Thank you, Yunho,”

He nods and then takes a step back, and suddenly there’s nothing more to say.

“Well, we should go,” Yunho clears his throat, “goodbye, y/n,”

“Bye,” You manage.

“Bye, y/n,” Mingi nods, turning to take the handle of his suitcase from Yunho.

They start towards the door, and you offer a final goodbye, and then a hand in the middle of your back draws your eyes to the side at Seonghwa.

“Safe flight,” Seonghwa murmurs the tease low into your ear as he gives you a fast hug.

“Shut up,” You shove him as subtly as you can.

He smiles, a little mischievously, “I’ll text you when we land.”

“Good,” You nod, “get some sleep on the plane,”

He salutes as he steps back and drops an arm around Wooyoung’s shoulders, “Yes, ma’am,”

You roll your eyes more obviously this time, but before they continue their teasing, Wooyoung tugs his friends closer to the door, “Alright, alright, I’m exhausted and our cab’s outside,”

“Bye, y/n,” Seonghwa calls over his shoulder as Wooyoung shoves him out the door, and you can hear San laughing from just outside, Yunho’s voice echoing beside it.

Movement from the door draws your eye, and Mingi hitches his duffle bag up over his shoulder. His lips quirk up in the smallest smile, and he waves, just a little.

You wave back with a nod, and then he’s gone.

The studio moves forward just the same. Quieter, but the same.

You and Dahan spend your time focused on the debut, and despite how much you think of them for just a flicker before you drop off into sleep every night, your body is so tired from work that your mind never dwells for too long.

Weeks pass around you in a busy blur

Three months doesn’t seem so long as it whips by around you, not unless you really let yourself slow down and think about it. You still get updates from your friends as they hop from city to city, photos online of New World where you can see your best friends in the back, and then their Instagram updates of every new strange dish they try.

Yunho and Mingi stay quiet, just like you needed, until one night they don’t.

The email sitting unread at the top of your inbox was sent three days ago. You rarely check your inbox, and there’s a real chance you would have missed this message entirely, but you just happened to be looking for an authentication code at the exact right time and there’s no mistaking what this email is when you stumble across it. There’s no subject, but there is a little preview pane of the first line and your breath catches in your throat when you see it.

y/n - You said don’t text and don’t call, but you never said don’t email.

Your heart tightens in your chest and you double check the email address. You don’t have it saved, but just know it’s Mingi. You need a drink for this. You step away from your desk and run your hands through your hair, heart beating fast, and you try to decide what to do as you leave your room for a breath and a glass of anything.

You pour some wine with shaky hands, the quiet of your apartment feeling so loud around you. If you open it, you won’t be able to live in an ignorant little bubble anymore. You could delete it, really put your foot down about no contact and keep moving on. You could do that.

You’re back at your desk seconds later with your cursor hovering over the email.

He’s not wrong. You never said don’t email.

With a gulp of wine for courage, you press down and brace yourself.

y/n -

You said don’t text and don’t call, but you never said don’t email. I’m not sending this so you’ll reply, I’d prefer if you didn’t, but honestly I’m not always the best at saying something in the moment. Please forgive this.

I’ve thought a lot about us the past few weeks and I wanted you to know that I understand why you’re confused. It was hard to see it before. Something made me insane when you said you slept with Seonghwa, and I can see how all that alpha shit would make sense, but that wasn’t it. Not all of it anyways. I’ve spent so much time thinking it through and what really upset me wasn’t that you were with somebody else or even that it was him. I was so fucking mad at myself for letting us go back to being friends. Especially now that I know you wanted us too and we wrecked it. I feel like a fucking coward, and I swear to god I’ve never been a coward before. You make me feel things and do things that make no sense. It’s hard to make sense of anything when we’re together except that I like being with you.

These things are so much easier to say when you’re not here. Yunho’s better at this kind of thing, and you’re so good at it sometimes I can’t keep up.

I want to say that I’m sorry for all of it. I really didn’t do any of it right. You didn’t choose us that night but you did trust us, you trusted me and I’ve done nothing but hurt you since that weekend ended. I thought you wanted to go back to being friends, but when I saw you at the studio the day after I couldn’t do it. I thought if I talked to you I would just cross too many lines, I didn’t realize how much more I wanted from you until you left. But I thought about how much it would hurt you if I pushed it too far at work, and then I thought about how much it would hurt Yunho if you wanted me and not him. Or how much it would hurt me if it were the other way around. Or what would happen if you didn’t want us at all?

I think I should tell you that Yunho and I didn’t talk for a few weeks either, not really. I think we were all just waiting for the other person to say something, but the whole time we were hurting you. I’m so sorry for that.

I feel bad about the kiss too. I just panicked, I didn’t know what to do to make you stay. I know it wasn’t the right time, so I’m sorry for that too.

Yunho is sorry too by the way. Someday if we ever talk about this, he’ll tell you himself, but he’s my best friend and I just have to tell you that he hates himself for how he treated you. He’d be so pissed if he knew I was sending this to you, but you have to know it.

I feel like there’s so much more I could say… things that I want the chance to explain to you, things about how I felt before we ever got together, but you said we missed our chance and I have to learn how to respect that. That’s why I don’t want you to respond to this letter. I wanted to send this because I don’t think I can do this face to face right now, I tried to be honest in the studio that night and all I did was make it worse. I hope you at least read this and can understand that, and I promise I won’t write to you again.

I want you to know that Yunho and I talked, and we agreed on what to do. We won’t reach out, we won’t push you. When we come home, we’d like the chance to be friends again like we were. We want you to feel comfortable with us again and to trust us again. I know we missed our chance, but being friends with you is always going to be better than nothing.

We care a lot about you. I hope through all the noise you can still feel that.

While we’re away please be safe and be happy.

Please don’t respond. Mingi

You read it again, and again for good measure. After the fourth time you close your laptop tight and leave it far away from you. You want to tell him that you’re sorry too, that they’re not alone in making mistakes after your heat and that you all fucked it up together. A perfect mix of insecurity and biology and doubt and fear boiling over to make sure none of you opened up to each other and just said what you wanted. But you don’t say any of that.

You’ll tell them when they’re home.

For once you think the right thing to do is to listen.

You don’t respond.

a/n: reminder, i am no longer doing taglists as they became too unruly to properly maintain. please turn on post notifs, check my blog regularly, or subscribe on ao3 to get immediate updates.

#this night together fic #honeyhotteoks fics #ateez #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #yungi x reader #ateez ff #ateez fic #yunho fic #yunho ff #mingi fic #mingi ff #ateez series

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writerscall · 6 months

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how can i be dead to you when we’re looking at the same moon?

part two to this. the moment of truth between you and hazel holds more than one big reveal.

author’s note/s: 1.1k words. angst, hurt and no comfort for now. i apologize in advance for the ending of this chapter.

Surprisingly, it isn’t very hard to make sure you don’t spend too much time around Hazel until you felt ready to fall back into your old closeness. You were roommates, but your schedules clashed greatly — blessing in disguise? — and the only free times you had together was late afternoon to dinner, which you usually decided to spend anywhere but your room. It was just too weird. She was so ready for a blank slate and you just… weren’t. There was still a mix of guilt and disappointment and bitterness from high school, and immature as it was to not just let it go like Hazel seemed to have done, you didn’t know what to do with it.

You didn’t know what to do with her. It wasn’t fair to her back then and it wasn’t fair to her now, but how could you tell her?

You don’t. You can’t. Not without the bigger possibility of truly ruining everything between the two of you now.

Unlike yourself, however, Hazel was on a mission to get things back to the way they were before that football game. “Oh, hey! I’m so glad I caught you before you left for the library,” she says as she closes the door behind her, smiling at you even though she looked exhausted.

You wanna ask her about how that last class on her schedule was going cause she mentioned that was gonna be a loaded one, but you stop yourself.

“I was just about to leave actually—”

“Do you wanna go get take-out for dinner?”

Both of you just stare at each other for a second after speaking at the same time. Then she shakes her head and chuckles, saying, “I found this amazing Chinese place nearby. Might even say they’re a little better than that old resto we used to go to back home. Their shrimp dumplings are to die for and I know you like those, so…”

“Um,” you start, the ache already building in your chest because you know you're about to see yet another drop in her expression at what you’re about to say. “Maybe another time. I really have to get started on this reviewer for my test. Sorry, Hazel.”

You shoot her an apologetic look as you pick up your bag, but instead of the usual resigned nod and mumbled ‘alright sure, happy studying’ response that you get, you see her hands ball into fists at her sides before hearing a frustrated, “Why do you keep blowing me off?”

She’s angry and rightfully so. “You said that whatever happened back in high school doesn’t matter but it mattered— it matters to me and I don’t even fucking know what it was that made you treat me like… like I did something to make you hate me.”

Her voice cracks as she says ‘hated,’ and you take the smallest step forward but she keeps going. “And obviously it still matters to you too because you’re not acting like it doesn’t. You don’t wanna hang out, you’re barely in our shared room, you send me the most uninterested-sounding replies with every message, I,” she sighs, tilting her head at you. “Could you at least tell me what I did wrong before you go study for that test that may or may not exist?”

Moment of truth. You knew it was gonna come sooner or later and that you would never feel prepared either way. You just hoped that whatever came after wouldn’t totally suck.

“That football game… you know, the one where you guys beat up the Huntington players?”

She nods. You can feel your throat start to close up. “You and PJ kissed,” you tell her plainly with a shrug. Your eyes flit to hers once before looking elsewhere; you can’t look right at her with your next words. “And I… I had this silly little crush on you so I took it personally as some sort of sign that I should finally get over it. Over you.”

To no avail, you add silently in your head. The silence stretches between the two of you for what seems like a whole thirty seconds that you’re almost sure she’s about to either shout at you or walk out.

Then, in a soft voice that catches you by surprise (she was supposed to be mad, wasn’t she?), Hazel says, “I’ve liked you since the day we met in fifth grade, I— it crushed me when you just shut me out halfway through senior year. How could you do that? Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Well, this wasn’t how you were expecting the conversation to go.

Feeling defensive because you could ask her that same second question, you finally look at her, but she cuts you off. “Do you even know of any of the stupid things I did to get your attention after that? Even to just get you to look at me? I tried joining the clubs you joined but of course I wasn’t qualified, I waited in the hall by your locker almost everyday to try and talk to you— god, I even went to some of those stupid baseball games to see you even if I had to watch you cheer for your stupid boyfriend. And that one really hurt to sit through.”

“Hazel—”

“I feel like I turned myself inside out liking you and trying to figure out why we suddenly weren’t in each other’s lives anymore. But all this time it was because you liked me and… and what, you didn’t think I liked you back?”

The room is silent again as you just stare at each other for a moment. There was so much to say. Of course you knew she tried out for your clubs because you had a hand in not letting her in any of them. Of course you noticed her lingering nearby whenever you had to get something from your locker during breaks. Of course you saw her at those games; having to act like you were really into the sport and your boyfriend was hard for you, too.

But all that comes out is, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to say except that I’m sorry, Hazel. For all of it.”

Her face crumples and you just can’t be there, so you start walking towards the door. Hazel blocks it just as you reach for the knob.

“Please let me go.”

“I can’t,” she whispers. “I just got you back.”

She’s close, closer than you think she’s ever physically been in all your years of friendship. Close enough that you could close the gap if it was a more appropriate time.

Hazel seems to think it is, because barely a second passes after she eyes your lips that she kisses you.

#hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan fanfic #hazel callahan

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suzukiblu · 6 months

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Day thirty of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU. And yes I DID win NaNoWriMo, thank you for asking. ❤ This is the last day of NaNo, obviously, so I'm gonna take a little bit of a break from this fic due to being just sliiiiightly burned out from writing 1k+ a day in it for the past month and all, but I intend to start editing it and posting chapters of it on AO3 in the next week or two, so it'll be both easily bookmark/subscribe-able and updating on there soon!

They go through all the boxes, Tim suffers a bit for it, and Kon laughs and makes him suffer more, the bastard. It’s fun, though, even if now Tim would really prefer to never stick his hand in another box ever again in his life.

The last box Kon directs him to is full of layers of distinctly cashmere-esque fabrics, and Kon smiles a little and ducks his head again. Tim is disgruntled, but charmed.

They wander through the exhibits, and Tim feels pretty good about his activity-picking when he realizes Kon’s stopping to look at all of them and actually seems interested in all of them. They have to circle back a couple of times so Kon isn’t doing anything too super-powered in front of other guests, but they do hit all of them. Some of them are more interesting than others, in Tim’s opinion, but Kon still tries them all. Tim wouldn’t complain even if he were bored out of his mind, though, given how invested Kon gets in sorting and mixing the tables full of colored glass beads and making waves and whirlpools in the water fixtures and manipulating the kaleidoscopes and chimes and everything else.

Kon spends the least amount of time with the auditory and olfactory stations, though he’s happy to try all the little hors d'oeuvres that Tim assumes are supposed to be covering “taste” for the exhibit. Visual he seems generally curious about, but definitely tactile wins. Like–far and away, does tactile win. They spend twice as much time at the tactile stations Kon is least interested in as they do any two of the others. Tim doesn’t mention it in case it’s not on purpose. He still doesn’t want to make Kon feel self-conscious or anything.

Anyway, the tactile parts of the exhibit were the whole reason he picked this as a date activity, so what, is he going to be bothered by having made the correct deduction or assumption or whatever? Not freaking likely. Actually if anything he’s going to need to privately gloat to himself about this later. Bask in it a bit.

Also take some notes for future dates and things to buy Kon and whatever else.

More cashmere, to start. A lot more.

Tim sneaks a few more pictures of Kon as they walk from station to station. Kon laughs at him every time he catches him and takes one of him too, which is incredibly flustering. Tim cons him into a few selfies in self-defense, which turns out to be a terrible idea because it still involves him ending up in pictures and, worse, involves him ending up in pictures with Kon, who takes the excuse to press in close and kiss his cheek and just be all kinds of appallingly adorable, the asshole.

Kon uses the first picture he took as Tim’s contact picture and makes one of their shared selfies his phone background. Tim is mildly mortified but also desperately wants to earn lockscreen status, which is a terrible idea because what if Kon ever takes his phone out around the team or Red Tornado or, god forbid, Bruce?

Tim should definitely make sure Kon doesn’t put him on his lockscreen.

. . . but like, if he did . . .

There’s a clay station. Kon stays at that one the longest, making weird little abstract shapes and surprisingly accurate miniature versions of the sculptures tucked away in the corners of the gallery with TTK. Tim hadn’t even noticed him looking at any of the sculptures, but in retrospect he never actually needed to “look” at them, did he? And on that note, Tim guesses the accuracy shouldn’t be any kind of surprising either–Kon must have a really good sense of spatial awareness, if nothing else, and of how things “should” be shaped.

By the time they get through the last station of the exhibit, they’ve been at the museum almost twice as long as Tim’s most optimistic estimates had allowed for and he’s had to sneak off to the “bathroom” for five minutes to push their reservation back an hour. Tim has absolutely zero intention of rushing Kon, especially if he’s having a good time, so it just makes more sense to reschedule than to put him on a schedule.

Though he did have to actually make sure to go into the bathroom to do it, since Kon might’ve noticed him not heading that direction. Tim doubts Kon’s paying attention to what anyone’s doing in the bathroom, for obvious reasons, but he still probably would’ve noticed the date he was briefly concerned might be a supervillain just ducking around a corner to make a phone call ten yards away, no matter how Bat-stealthy said date was about it. Like, that seems like a stupid thing to expect him not to notice.

They stop by the gift shop on their way out–well, Tim detours Kon to it with subtle herding, anyway–and Tim manages to convince Kon to pick out a couple of things. He ends up with a couple of sort of fidget toy-type puzzles and a little three-pack of little tubs of a clay-like play sand in bright colors, which Tim thinks is probably meant to function as some kind of stim toy and was probably something specifically sourced to go with the event, and Tim “accidentally” throws in a couple of fancy candy bars from the front register. Again: Kon needs calories that weren’t directly sourced from cafeteria food from a definitely-not-OSHA-compliant cloning lab.

Maybe Tim can send Kon a fruit basket or ten while he’s still stuck at Cadmus. Those probably come in tropical themes.

Alternately, maybe he can just kidnap Kon outright and trap him in a nice new cul-de-sac until he gets used to it. He could get him actual groceries, then. Lots of them. Fruit and vegetables and entire spreads of “things that weren’t made in an OSHA-noncompliant cafeteria”. That’d be nice.

Also he could send that Hawaiian food truck by on the daily, if they were up for it.

They share the candy bars on the walk to the restaurant–meaning, Tim takes two perfunctory bites of each and tricks Kon into eating the rest with basically zero effort–and it’s . . . nice, honestly, just walking around together. Just being together. Not that this is new knowledge, after the mall, but it’s still novel enough that Tim can’t help indulging in and enjoying the experience. They don’t usually get much time alone together, much less time that isn’t spent either fighting supervillains or dealing with emergencies. So–it’s nice, yeah.

Tim likes it, he means.

They make their adjusted reservation, and Kon peers around the restaurant awkwardly as they’re led to their table. Tim resolves to do whatever it takes to get him to relax, up to and including embarrassing himself in some way or another. He’s probably going to do that anyway, given how most of these meet-ups have been going.

“Does it qualify for ‘nice’ enough so far?” he asks once they’re seated, and Kon blushes, then flashes him a grin.

“It’s okay, I guess,” he says, then bites his lip with a brief flicker of insecurity as he glances down at the menu–specifically the prices on the menu. “Um . . . are you sure you wanna spend this much on me, though . . . ?”

“I want to spend my entire trust fund on you,” Tim says matter-of-factly, and Kon lets out a weird little laugh and ducks his head again. It works a little better this time, since he has the menu to hide behind right now.

“I already like you, man,” he says, which is still inexplicable but not something Tim is actually gonna argue with. “You don’t have to keep buying me stuff.”

“I like buying you stuff,” Tim says. “I’m gonna keep doing it as long as you’ll let me.” And after that, he’ll figure out a way to sneak doing it.

“Just because you like it?” Kon says, glancing at him over the top of the menu.

“Because I like you,” Tim says. “I mean, no offense to the hostess, but I wouldn’t enjoy buying her dinner this much.”

Kon bites his lip, then ducks his head again. His face is red. Tim feels the urge to kiss him again. He probably should’ve found time to do that on the walk over or something. Or as soon as he first saw him. Or just at any point so far tonight, because the urge is getting seriously distracting now.

“So when you said you wanted to go somewhere after this too . . .” Kon trails off, flushing darker.

“There’s a late show at the planetarium about the sun’s role in our solar system and the life cycle of stars,” Tim says. It might be too loose an association, but . . . “I thought you might be interested in checking it out.”

Kon stares at him for a moment, then turns absolutely crimson and hides behind his menu entirely.

“Okay,” he manages, his voice a little cracked. Tim’s pretty sure he could’ve said he’d rented them a hotel room and gotten a less embarrassed reaction. So . . . that’s a thing.

Okay.

“I really do want to spend the money on you,” he says. “Apartment and all.”

“An apartment,” Kon says, glancing over the top of his menu at him again. “And bills and groceries and an . . . allowance.”

“Yes,” Tim says. No point in beating around the bush, he figures. It’s all things he’s already told Kon anyway.

“And not just because I saved your life,” Kon says.

“Not just because you saved my life,” Tim agrees. “I just want to give you those things. Or anything you want, really. Which–well, what would you want?”

“Um,” Kon says, just barely lowering his menu as his eyes skate away. “Well . . . could we like . . . keep hanging out outside the theoretical apartment and stuff? If we did . . . that?"

Tim feels something absolutely giddy and absolutely painful in his chest, hearing that question. Just–what does Kon think, that he just wants to toss a lease at him and never see him again? Or just only come over to . . . actually, wait, maybe Kon does think–ugh. Ugh. Fuck, that is not what he’s trying to make Kon worry about here.

“Yes,” Tim says firmly. “As much as you want.”

“Mm,” Kon says, biting his lip again. His face is still red. Tim wants to give him every single thing the world hasn’t given him, which he knows for a fact is a truly fucked-up and probably borderline-insurmountable amount of things.

But he still wants to give it all to him anyway, and then think up a few more things besides.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #young justice #young just us #rinfic #long post #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

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outsideratheart · 1 year

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First Impressions (Alexia Putellas x reader)

A/N: Chapter 1 of the Legacy Series.

For most people the wave of Spanish air they feel when they step off the plane is warm and welcoming but for you it feels like thick smoke and every breathe you take makes it harder to breathe. The last time you came to Barcelona lead to the worse day of your life and since then the place your parents called home was nothing than a reminder of what you have lost. It is because of this that you hadn’t stepped foot in Catalonian city since.

Upon entering arrivals you are met with your driver holding a board with only your first name on it.

“Miss Y/N” the driver extended his hand.

“Just the one name, I feel like Adele” you joked.

The drive only took thirty minutes which you found impressive considering it was game day for a women’s football team of Barcelona. You looked anywhere but outside the window as you pulled up to the stadium. You could hear the fans before you opened the door, the sound and sight of them made you overwhelmed.

“Here, I thought you might want this” the man in the driver’s seat passes you a cap “your mother said you would forget to bring one”

You hated being predictable, you much preferred to keep people on their toes but in that moment you are grateful that your mother knew you so well.

“Do you want me to do a lap of the car park?”

“No, I just need a minute”

It’s just a football game. You’re here a fan, it doesn’t have to be anything more.

Following the signs to the family section you are sure to dip your head as people pass by. Sure it would have been easier to get private seats but then you would have to had let the club know you were coming and no way could you have gotten away without having a meeting with them, especially with the news your manager had given them a couple of weeks ago.

Once in your seat you notice a girl sitting next to you, she looked weirdly familiar but you know that you had never met her before. It is only when you watch the player’s come out for their warm ups to put 2 and 2 together. The girl had a striking resemblance to the player whose name was on the back of most fan’s shirts.

“Hola” The girl next to you says “I haven’t seen you at a game before. Are you here supporting a family member?”

“Hi. No, I’m not. I’m a friend of Lieke Martens”

“Are you a Barcelona fan?”

You could tell the girl was being polite but you just wanted to watch the game. You didn’t want anyone to know you were in the city and the more you talk to her, the more likely she is to recognise you.

“They’re a family team”

“You’re from here?” The brunette wouldn’t have guessed. You’re dutch accent wasn’t overly strong but you definitely didn’t have a Spanish tone.

“The Netherlands”

“You’re Dutch. That makes sense if you know Lieke”

Ok so she didn’t recognise you, maybe she didn’t watch any football games other than her sisters.

“I’m Alba. Alexia’s sister”

“Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you Alba”

“Just Y/N”

You only hum in response. She may not know you’re a football player but there’s no way she wouldn’t know your last name.

The younger Putellas lets you watch the game in peace. It is only when you react badly to one of the ref’s calls does she begin to pay attention to what you are saying and the way you are saying it. You hear her say your name followed by a tap on the shoulder but when you turn to face her you see that she is joined by an older woman. The way the look in her eyes changes let you know that she knows more about football than her youngest daughter does.

“Is this your first time here?” To anyone else it might be a weird first question to ask. Not what is your name, not how are you.

You can feel your palms get sweaty as a lump forms in your throat, one that you are quickly to swallow. When words fail you, you can only nod in response.

“Mama, this is Y/N. She is a friend of Lieke’s”

“A friend of Lieke’s” it’s the way the woman phrases her sentence that makes you feel a little bit guilty.

You shrug your shoulders slightly, a small smirk tugs at your lips.

“That’s what I said. She does know a lot about football though, she acts like Ale does when she watches a game at home”

You can tell that Eli want’s to say ‘that’s because she is considered football royalty’ but she bites her tongue.

The rest of the game goes in favour of the home side with them going on to win 5-1. A result which doesn’t come as a shock to anyone, yourself included but you don’t hang around for the final whistle. When the 4 minutes injury time gets announced you figure it the perfect time to make your exit.

“You’re leaving?” Alba says at you stand up.

“It’s easier to beat traffic this way. It really was nice to meet you Alba and—“

“Mama you never introduced yourself. This is Eli. Mama this is—“

“I know who she is” her words earn a look from both you and Alba although both for a different reason “Will we be seeing you back here soon?”

The older woman wasn’t stupid.

“I’m not sure” it was an honest answer. You has a decision to make this summer, one which could lead to you to calling the city your father loved home just as he once did.

“Well I hope I do and I know Alexia does too”

“Mama she hasn’t met Alexia”

You can see that Alba has questions but you couldn’t stay to answer them, you wasn’t ready yet.

Once again you say your goodbyes but just as you leave to turn back.

“If you happen to see Lieke tell her I’ll meet her at 9”

“I will” Eli says.

Alba looks back and forth between you and her mother wondering what she is missing.

The two of them wait in the car park for Alexia to come out and sure enough the dutch woman is by her side. What you wasn’t aware of is that you had been recognised by the team as the walked back into the locker room at halftime. They had heard the rumours but up until this moment that’s all they had been. Now though they wondered what the true nature of your visit was and if it meant something big was coming.

“So it was Y/N in stands with Alba?” Alexia asks Lieke.

“Alexia” the dutch woman warned her “She came here as a friend nothing more”

“But it could be more. You’ve heard what they’re saying”

They approach their cars which are parked next to each other. The captain hugs her mother and sister, both of them congratulating her on a good game and an excellent season as this was the last game.

“Lieke, Y/N asked me to tell you she’ll meet you at 9” as promised Eli passes on your message.

“She’s staying in the city but she hasn’t been back si—“

“She is leaving tonight but we are going for dinner. I’ll text you the address ss and if you happen to be close then I’ll introduce you”

“Vale”

“Alexia” Lieke turns to her captain “don’t bring up the rumours. As you said it’s been a while since she’s been here and she doesn’t want to talk about football”

You and Lieke have known each other for years as joining the senior Netherlands team at the same time. She knew that her captain was a big fan of yours and the prospect of you joining Barcelona was very exciting but you were very private and she could only hope her friend would respect that.

She would find out a couple of hours later that once Alexia has something on her mind then she had to voice her opinion no matter how many times she was warned otherwise. It is why when she arrived at the restaurant with a couple of the girls, albeit half an hour later than she was told, Alexia eyes search for you the moment she walks through the door but settles when she sees Lieke knowing that you won’t be far away.

Lieke watches as Alexia fidgets in her seat and cannot help it as small chuckle escapes her lips. Her captain was nervous and you weren’t even in eyesight.

“Not that I don’t like your company but where’s Y/N?” Alexia asks your national team mate.

“First of all you’re late Y/N is settling the bill although according to her she went to the bathroom”

“You said 9”

“and it’s 9:30. The Spanish may have a habit of being late but the Dutch are punctual”

Alexia turns around as she hears your voice get closer and closer. When you take a seat opposite her she is a loss for words.

“This a such a coincidence” you turn your attention to Lieke who you can tell feels a little bit guilty.

“Yours definitely wasn’t a face I expected to see in the stands today”

It was small talk and you hated small talk especially now because you could tell what it was leading up to.

“What can I say, I have a few days off so I thought I would come see Lieke before I fly to England”

“England?” Lieke asks. As far as she was aware you were flying back to Amsterdam.

“Viv invited me to an arsenal game”

“So you’re checking out potential teams”

There is was and it took less than ten minutes. You gave Lieke a look and in turn she mouthed an apology. She truly believed that Alexia would at least wait a bit before bringing it up.

Your move, your future, anything than included you moving away from home made you anxious and even though you had met these girls on the pitch you didn’t know them off it and this wasn’t a topic you discussed with strangers. It also didn’t help that Joan Laporta had been pestering you for the past couple of weeks and hearing Alexia try to pry you for information made you feel like they were in on it together.

“I’m visiting friends Alexia and I don’t talk business with people I don’t know”

Your response changed the energy at the table but still Alexia’s eyes never left you.

“C’mon Y/N, playing for Barcelona is your birth right. You belong here and the team would be lucky to have you. Imagine the fans, how happy they would be to wear a Barcelona shirt with —“

“Alexia, can’t you see you’re making her feel uncomfortable” Aitana whispers to her captain.

The young Catalonian was the only one at the table apart from Lieke that you would consider a friend. She has worked with the foundation for years, even coming to Amsterdam to do a few workshops there. In this time she never asked you about your father and you would never be able to thank her enough for that.

“Aitana it’s fine. She’s like most people I meet, she just wants me for my last name”

It was a sentence you said with a heavy heart and although you tried to play it off, everyone could hear the waver in your tone.

“Y/N I—“ Alexia instantly regrets what she has said.

“Listen Alexia, I like you up and until now you haven’t given me a reason not to. When Lieke first joined Barcelona she was nervous but she told me you welcomed her into the club and made her feel at home so I know you’re a good person. I don’t want to argue with you so let’s start fresh”

The brunette thanks the higher powers that she hasn’t put an end to this friendship before it even had the chance to begin.

“Start fresh, ok. I’m Alexia Putellas”

The table sniffles back laughter at the formality of their captain.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Y/N Cruyff”

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #Barcelona femeni one shot #barcelona femeni imagine #barcelona femeni x reader #espwnt one shot #espwnt imagine #espwnt x reader

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