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uranometrias · 4 months

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✮ꜜ : ❛ now i see daylight : spencer reid x fem! reader

pairing: spencer reid x fem! reader

summary: three weeks have gone by since your last encounter with reid. you'd both been doing an exceptional job of pretending that the other didn't exist. you felt like it was only fair. he didn't have the right to talk to you any type of way, and you supposed in his mind, you didn't have the right to behave so jealously. three weeks of no ground being made, that is, of course, until a conversation with rossi helps to screw your head on straight

content warnings: love confessions. reader definitely has anxiety and a fear of romance/relationships, BUT she fights her fear! i also think it's fair to say that she views telling spencer about her feelings as facing her fear, regardless of his response! this is part two to 'guilt is a motherfucker'.... i'm so sorry it's taken forever, but i've actually preparing to enlist in the army && haven't had a lot of down time. i've got 10 drafts to prove it, but i tried my best to make this longer than part one, and i hope that you guys enjoy it.

Grow up.

Those words had haunted you for about three weeks. It'd been that long since the day you and Spencer had sort of... drifted apart. You refused to blame yourself, despite knowing full well this whole ordeal was majorly your fault. Okay, all of the blame very well rested on your shoulders, but you were stubborn. You'd been that way forever.

Maybe you were the childish, scared, and jealous little girl he'd accused you of being. That wasn't your job to figure out, because he had no business speaking to you that way. Who did he think he was? You could hit him right in his stupid little face. That last thought of violence seems to follow you.

Especially as you sat as your desk, leg bouncing furiously underneath as you counted the seconds until he was away from the kitchenette. Your cup of coffee was dwindling, and you still had a few more files to get through, before you'd give yourself room to slack off. You needed more caffeine, but the newfound thorn in your side was taking up space, using up all the sugar as he made his third cup of the day.

A more mature person might have questioned why you didn't just go up there anyway. He didn't own the kitchenette, and it wasn't like you had to say anything at all. It was meant to be cut-and-dry, you were both mature adults, you could interact as such. Except neither of you were quite as mature as you affronted. You could just picture the screwed up expression he'd offer you if you chose to approach.

You were certain your face was already twisted up, showing off your own annoyance, and he wasn't even near you.

You'd been berated by Derek, Emily, and Penelope over your petty streak, all three parties really driving in the point that you were behaving like a toddler throwing a tantrum. They had a point, but you also refused to accept any such criticism about your behavior. Partly, because you hated correction, and you didn't want to think about the possibility that all of your friends were on his side.

But you think most of your refusal to accept your part from any of them had a lot to do with the fact that they weren't the ones who'd been so callously humiliated, and they weren't the ones with feelings for someone who obviously knew, and was perfectly content flaunting such knowledge right in your face.

God, you could punt him like a football.

You needed to work on your insult creativity, these were starting to get repetitive. You shake all thoughts of assault out of your mind as Dave begins to approach your desk. Rossi wasn't stupid, he like everyone else had noticed the significant decline in attention passed between you, and Reid. But unlike the rowdier members of the team, he and JJ had elected to go the route of silent but deadly.

They'd cast the both of you disapproving looks when in rare form you'd allowed your spat to affect your job. Their clear disappointment in you exceptionally loud. Times like those were sparce, you really only ever objected obedience when Hotch insisted on partnering the both of you up. Which had luckily become much more rare in the last few weeks.

"Still pouting, angioletto?" he asks, and his ability to read right through you seems to make your pout deepen. "It's been three weeks, don't you think it's time to talk about it or move on?" he questions, and there's no judgement there. It's what you like the most about Rossi, he seemed to have fallen into the role of paternal figure incredibly well. He gave you the tough love that you often needed.

But he never disrespected your boundaries, he never went too far. He'd always say just enough to nudge you in the right direction.

"Maybe." you agree, and it's true. You know it's time to put this situation behind you in one way or another, but you refused to cave first. You didn't want to give Spencer the satisfaction of it, and once again you're made aware of just how petty you really were. "But I don't want to." you voice this thought to Dave, who offers an unamused expression. You narrow your eyes in his direction.

"He's the one that started it..." you exclaim your side for the umpteenth time. Rossi's expression doesn't morph, but there is a bit of disappointment swimming in his eyes. It makes you avert your gaze quickly, you could feel the first pinpricks of guilt slicing at you. "It's true." you insist. Rossi waves a tired hand at you, ushering you to proceed, and you find yourself grateful for the chance to vent.

Everyone else knew too much about the behind the scenes to let you get a word in edgewise. Rossi was basically a clean slate. "If he knew all along, what he thinks he knows..." you stop long enough to look towards the kitchenette. He's still there, which is a relief, you'd be pissed if somehow he managed to overhear this. "Then why would he come over here and flaunt it. Was he trying to rub it in?" you demand.

Silly you for thinking that Rossi would be any less on your ass than the rest of the team. He was David Rossi after all, one of the founders of the BAU, a smart man that could read you like a picture book. "You finished?" he asks, and your mouth parts. You weren't finished, but you don't tell him that, he looked like he was ready to lecture. You offer a curt nod, and he hums under his breath.

"What exactly were you expecting from him, Y/N?" he asks, and you blanche. You weren't expecting anything, you'd never expected anything from Spencer. "I mean just stick with me here... put yourself in his shoes for one second." he prompts, and you huff. Those were big shoes, probably uncomfortable. Still, you play along as you wait for Rossi to proceed. "Would you wait around for two years for someone to finally realize that they want to be with you?" he asks.

You hope that it's rhetorical, because the answer for you was probably a lot different than the one he was expecting. You also feel the urge to correct him, you didn't take two years to figure out you liked him, you'd known since your first day. Your issue was verbalizing it, because you cared about your bond. Spencer was nice, he was the sweetest person you'd ever met. You liked seeing him get excited about the things no one else seemed to care about. He was different.

He was your friend, and you had always admired him.

"I wasn't making him wait..." you voice the correction. "And I didn't need time to realize anything..." you trail off, and realization seems to set in for Rossi. He sighs deeply, head shaking as you continue on your tangent. "I liked him back when all the girls in the unit still looked at him like he was some freak, and I'm not saying it entitles me to anything... I'm the dummy for being a chicken, but he didn't have to be so mean." and you're certain that's the root of it all.

Your feelings were hurt.

"Ah, well haven't you heard? Boys are quite stupid." Rossi offers, and you think he only said it to get you to laugh. It works, because you do chuckle, and it makes Dave's shoulders relax just slightly. "Talk to him, Y/N." he presses, and you find yourself looking across the bullpen. "It's the right thing to do." and you know he's right. "And who knows, it might even wind up being for the best." he offers, and you blanch. You nod your head, and Rossi beams proudly.

"You're right." you agree audibly, and you're fidgeting in your chair.

"You are coming this Friday aren't you?" Rossi pries, and you've gone nonverbal, head nodding once more as he mimics your action. "See if you guys can't get this squared away before then, won't you?" he asks, and he's leaving you with a gentle pat on the shoulder. You stare after Rossi with a mixture of disdain and appreciation. Leave it to the old man to get you off your ass. Your eyes are drawn to Spencer as he draws closer, you know he's not coming to you.

It was a byproduct of your desk location, but it wouldn't hurt to use it to your advantage. When he's within earshot, you take the first step. "Spence?" you try, and you expect him to ignore you, to keep walking like the sassy bastard that he is, but he shocks you. He seems to mirror your feelings with his own surprised expression. "Can we talk?" you try, and it's the cliche thing... but you don't have it in you to be poetic. He stops abruptly, head nodding stiffly as he does so.

You feel like you need to stand up, having him stand over you feels too much like you're being cornered or something of the sort. He takes a small step back when you do so though, and the tension seems to only grow tenfold. You mask your disappointment in his retreat easily, instead standing up a bit straighter, sticking your chin out as you prepare to bite the bullet and be the bigger woman. It was utterly humiliating having to bring yourself back to Earth like this.

"Sure." he finally verbally answers your question, you take that as a cue to get on with it. Your patience for back and forth seemed almost as thin as his.

"Maybe it's three weeks too late..." you begin, and his eyebrows furrow. "And I know we've got this new rhythm of pretending we don't exist to each other," and his face betrays how wrong he finds that statement. His face pinches up like he's smelled something bad, and he wants to remind you that the only reason you hadn't spoken was because you hadn't had the guts to own up to the fact that you had feelings for him, but he digresses. He wasn't here to pick a fight.

"But, I'm sorry...." you spit the apology out and it feels hollow. You know you have to do better, so you proceed before he can shoot you a disapproving glance. "I really am." you insist, and despite the fact that you had only just begun to feel guilty about the whole thing in the last few minutes, you meant it. "I never should've acted like that, and I never should have let this go on for so long." you express.

Across the bullpen, Rossi, Penelope, Derek, and Emily are huddled up watching the exchange, not so discreetly. You're none the wiser to your growing audience, but Spencer sees them clearly. Not that they were really aiming for subtlety. "It's not my business what you do outside of work or who you do it with." and your nose curls, mostly because you want it to be your business. You want to be valid in your aggravation, more than that you wanted to be his. How annoying.

Your leg starts to shake just barely, and you look like you'll crumble to the ground at any moment. Spencer notices all of these ticks, and stores them into the part of his brain that's full of things specific to you. "So I'm sorry that I was being a jerk." you offer, and Spencer's face doesn't show any signs of whether or not he believed you, so you continue. "I'm happy for you." you clear your throat, and feel embarrassment setting in.

"Thanks, Y/N." his head tips to the right as he appraises you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes you in. It's not a menacing sort of glance. He seemed to be waiting for something else, you weren't sure what more could be put into your apology, there was no way you were about to give an outright confession, that'd be humiliating. Instead, you avert your gaze, and it seems to be enough of an answer to whatever internal question he had. "That actually means a lot."

You don't smile, mostly because you're not sure what the actually means, he seems to notice the way your expression changes just slightly, and he's quick to correct himself.

"I just mean that your approval does mean a lot to me." he says, and you relax. You can't quite beam, you're still not up for it, but you offer a small smile, one that could count more as a grimace than anything else, but you weren't in the headspace to monitor your facial expressions. You were growing bothered all over again, and you had to do everything in your power to ensure that this time things didn't end with another three-week break between you and Spencer.

"Really?"

Spencer's nose curls now, he's an expressive guy. His facials said a lot more than his words could at times, and you note that this particular expressions reads somewhere between confused and surprised. Those were almost synonyms in the grand scheme of things, right? "Is that a real question?" Spencer asks, and despite the tension that hung over you at the start of the conversation, with this question you witness the way his guard drops. It was liberating in a way.

"I asked it didn't I?" you quip, but there's no real bite behind your words. Spencer seems to note this, lips pressing together firmly.

"You're important to me." he promises, and you hate that his first reaction is to validate you. Your anxiety-riddled mind would convince you that he secretly thought you were fishing for praise, which was the farthest thing from the truth. Still, you love Spencer, platonically and otherwise, and you're certain that's why you're mimicking his words back to him so quickly.

"You're important to me too."

He takes a second to stare at you, and you stare right back. You're careful not to show any signs of timidity or awkwardness, things were finally starting to look up. "I..." he begins, and you stay silent to allow him the time he needs to get whatever was on his chest off. "I'm sorry." he says, and you're surprised. It was the last thing you'd expected from this conversation, you're certain your surprise is evident plain as day on your face.

"Yeah?" you feel it's only fair to press him onward.

"Jealous little girl." he cringes as he repeats it, and you wince because it still hurts. "That was-" he shakes his head. "It was out of line. Plain and simple, I guess I was just a little frustrated, but that's not your fault. It wasn't fair of me to come at you in that way." he begins to ramble. "I wouldn't want you to feel... mocked or belittled by me." and you blink. Mostly because that was exactly how you had felt, but how did he know. It's then that you finally feel the beady-eyed stares.

You look over your shoulder just in time to witness the group dispersing, Penelope grasping a file in her hand as she scurried in the opposite direction. Derek picking up a file folder, and Emily focusing all her attention on the drink sloshing around her mug. You really hate profilers, this is the loudest thought in your head as you turn back to Spencer. "It doesn't matter if I felt justified then, or even if I feel justified about it now." and it makes you snort.

Classic Spence.

"D-Do you forgive me? Are we okay?" he asks, and his voice has grown a bit fainter. If you listen hard enough you hear the echoes of the Spencer you first met. Even with all his strides, and the confidence he gained, there was still that small part of him that felt like the nerdy boy that everyone overlooked. The one that talked too much, and was constantly silenced with looks or snide remarks whenever he rambled for too long about some niche subject.

You think this train of thought is what gets you to see Rossi's point of view. And who were you to get in the way of someone who clearly was ready for someone as amazing as Spencer. You didn't know much about the woman, aside from the fact that she was constantly making coffee, and staring at Spencer. You didn't know how long she'd worked at the bureau, you didn't even know her name, but you knew that she was brave. She knew what she wanted and got it.

Unlike you.

You suppose 'snooze you lose' is your burden to carry from this ordeal. At least you'd gotten your friend back though. And that was enough, it could be anyway. You nod your head at his question, offering a half smile. "We're okay, Spence." you promise, and he seems relieved. His smile is one of those rare ones, the gorgeous kind that Spencer reserved for special occasions. He then visibly and audibly lets out a quiet sound of relief, and it makes you relax.

"Hey, Spence, can I get your help?" JJ is calling, and your pulled from your bubble. The world is still spinning, there's still work to do, pressing matters that needed your attention. You felt a little lighter, offering another half smile as he offers you a sheepish glance. He's heading towards JJ as you sit back down at your desk. Your leg bounces despite the perceived 'win'. It only takes you a moment to wonder why, reality sets in, and you realize your shortcomings.

You'd failed the test twice.

Twice you'd had the chance to be the most open and honest with Spencer, only to let your nerves or fear of rejection get in the way. The jealousy is gone now though, instead replaced with a brief feeling of self-aggravation. You hear Dave's stern voice in your head. 'Talk to him, Y/N.' and you frown. Hadn't that been what you'd done? You'd talked to him, so why did you still feel so bummed.

Why don't you just talk to the guy? Look him in the eye and tell him straight up how you're feeling? Derek's question from three weeks prior slaps you like a ton of bricks. You supposed that was the end goal, wasn't it? The only way to relieve yourself of all this anxiety and all the big feelings you were having a hard time digesting. You're back to pouting, mostly because you've got no idea where to start.

You pick up one of your files, and flip it open, hoping to bury yourself in work. Every time your mind tried to stray to Spencer or your feelings, you'd switch files, until all twenty-five on your desk had a dent in them. Your hand was cramped, and you know that soon enough you'll need a cup of coffee. Emily approaches your desk, hands centered as she leans forward, eyes right on you.

"So how did it go?" she asks, and you cut your eyes at her. "Tension's all gone, so it must have gone well, right?" she's grinning down at you. "I told you if you told him the truth, you'd have nothing to worry about." Emily proceeds, and you're shaking your head back and forth.

"Emily... Emily, no!" you exclaim, and her smile drops.

"No? What do you mean, no?" she demands as you exhale.

"I still haven't told him, and I'd really appreciate it, if you'd lower your voice." you hiss as she pouts. "Maybe it's just not supposed to be." you shrug, and Emily looks visibly disgruntled with your thoughts. "I'm just saying... we're okay, because we apologized." you explain. "I don't want to risk making it awkward again, because I think I have feelings." and now you're being purposely dismissive.

"Oh, so now you're not sure?" Emily questions, and then she's clicking her tongue against her teeth. "No. I don't buy that." she denies, and she's stern, but discrete. "Don't do this, Y/N. Don't be that girl." she pleads. "There's nothing worse than regret. It eats at you until there's nothing left, you don't want to look back, and think 'what if!'" and that's twice you're hearing something of the sort. Wasn't there some quote about hearing important things twice? You're not sure.

"If you like him-" she pauses, head still shaking from side to side. "If you love him... like it seems, you owe it to yourself to tell him. What's the worst thing that could happen?" she questions, and you scoff. "No, realistically." she insists. "Realistically tell me what the worst thing could be? And not from that place where your irrational fears sit." she deadpans, and you feel attacked, it makes you look away.

"In the two years of you knowing Reid, do you actually think that he's the kind of guy to break you down to nothing if he doesn't feel the same?" she asks, and the answer when presented to you like this is no. "So tell me what it is that you're really scared of?" she presses, and you don't understand why everyone's so worked up over this. Why the whole unit seemed to be invested in you expressing your feelings.

"I don't want to mess it up..." you shrug your shoulders. "I don't want to make it weird." you offer, and Emily's unmoved by your answer.

"You managed to do that without saying a thing." she retorts, and you feel like you've got no room to speak, no voice to rebuttal with. "Let me be your shrink for a second." Emily is your friend for moments like these, where her clear allegiance to you shines through. "Talk to me." she prompts.

"Why are you so invested in this?" you inquire. "Why does it even matter?" you huff.

"Because it matters to you." she answers. "What? You didn't know that's how this team works?" she asks, and you huff out a puff of air through your nose. "This isn't about us playing matchmaker... it's about you realizing that you've got a few bad beliefs about romance... and friendships.... and relationships that are going to keep you all by yourself if you don't start speaking your mind." she shrugs.

"And despite the way you curl into yourself back here at your desk, we both know you don't really want to be alone." and you think you might cry, it makes you wince. "You owe it to yourself to try, but ultimately the decision is all yours. I just think you'll feel better if you take Reid aside, and tell him the truth about how you feel." she seems done, and you don't know how to respond. Emily pats your shoulder as she rounds your desk, before heading back across the unit.

You really hate profilers.

By the time you're heading home for the night, you and Spencer hadn't spoken again. You'd been so buried in work that you'd skipped lunch to get things done. You'd gotten a comment from Hotch about that, wondering if you were feeling alright. You knew that he knew the truth, even as you told him a fib. Hotch though, was discrete enough not to make you feel scrutinized by exposing just how obvious you were. You couldn't get Emily's words out of your head.

You didn't feel angry with her, and your embarrassment had managed to go away within the first forty minutes after she'd left you alone. You knew she was right, but it still didn't make things easier. It was almost like you forgot how to speak whenever the time came to really express yourself. You supposed that was why your apology had been so flat. Feelings weren't your strong suit, and you'd learned to express them by lashing out. A less than healthy way to live.

You liked that the team didn't speak to you like a child or treat you like you were incapable. Instead, they talked to you like an adult, gave the truth to you in a way that sliced through all your stubbornness and attitude. As you head towards the elevator, you hear footsteps, and look just in time to see Spencer making his way towards you. His satchel hangs off his shoulder, and he looks relieved, an emotion that you knew all too well by the end of a work shift.

You hoped there wouldn't be any cases that drug you back to the unit, all you wanted was a shower and a nap in your own bed.

Stepping into the elevator, Spencer trails you. He takes one side of the elevator, while you huddle up in the other. He offers you a tired smile as the doors slide closed, you offer him a smile right back. It's weary, mostly because you were drained, but partly, because Spencer had been the object of your thoughts the entire day. Especially after Emily's blunt speech. You were drained. The anxiety of keeping the secret far outweighed any fear of rejection now.

"Hey, are you alright?" he addresses you, after noticing the way you seemed lost in your head.

"Hmm?" you hum, and he repeats himself. It snaps you out of your mind spiral, and your head nods. A lie. "I'm all good, Spence." you reply, and he looks disappointed, but not surprised. "Thanks for asking though." you add a second after, and he offers you a dry little nod of his head. The elevator is back silent, and you hope the doors open quick. You might drown if the tension grew any thicker.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." he says, and you blank. Your confusion is clear as day on your face. "Earlier..." and your still not understanding. "I wasn't telling you that you were important to me, because I was expecting anything in return." he explains, and it clicks. "If it made you feel weird, I'm sorry. It just felt like the right way to express my point then." he proceeds, and you don't know how to collect yourself. "So, I'm sorry." and you want to scream.

Mostly at yourself for being so infuriatingly inadequate at expressing your thoughts and feelings.

"If you want, we could just pretend I never said anything?" he offers, and you don't answer quick enough. The elevator slides open just as the words are settling inside your head, and he's stepping out into the parking deck without another word. You sit there in the elevator for a moment, the door sliding shut after a moment, but you don't move. You feel like you're at a crossroads, almost at a point of no return. If you let Spencer leave now... like this, there would be no coming back.

There would be no room to gain some balls later, and try again. It wouldn't be fair to him. It wouldn't be fair to yourself.

You feel like hyperventilating, thoughts everywhere. Love had never been a subject you really understood. You'd always sort of saw it as this concrete construct. Unchangeable, always either black or white. A gloomy, gray, existence that could cut you up and spit you out. Love could turn you into a hollow version of who you once were. Love could break you down, and make you nothing. But then you think of your team. JJ and Penelope, Hotch, Dave, Emily, Derek. Spencer.

They were the rarest and purest examples of love in your day-to-day life, weren't they? You'd never quite met anyone who had your back more than your team. They fought for you, they fought with you. They believed in you, pushed you to be the best you that you could be. So why was it so hard, what were you scared of? Was it the notion of getting Spencer, and staining him? Blowing out that light inside him the way you'd witnessed for so long?

Was that a life worth living? Was it a chance you could take?

And then you huff, because damnit... you were tired of waiting. You were tired of anxiety, and uncertainty, and insecurity, and pain. You're certain that is why you hit the button to open the elevator. Gracefulness is not on your side as you practically sprint out into the car park, your eyes scanning hopefully for the familiar silhouette of your friend. When you spot him, you release a quiet noise of relief. "S-Spencer!" you hear the echo from your shout, and cringe.

But it doesn't matter, because he turns, he stops, and he's looking at you. His eyebrows are raised, hands gripping his bag, as you start to run. You ignore your fatigue, and your desire to run and hide, and instead run towards something for once. You don't stop running until you're past the point of 'personal space', you want to hover, you want to be in his space, because it was the only way you could possibly get through this. He looks a bit unsure, and still a bit grumpy.

You hope by the end of this that's no longer the case.

"Spencer, I don't want to forget about what you said." you're trying to catch your breath, bouncing up on your heels. "I don't want to pretend you never said it." you add, and Spencer's surprised expression has the hairs on your arm and neck ready to stand on end. "I-I actually want to know what you meant." you admit. "Because, I know what I meant when I said it... and it's not something that I take back." you express, and you can hear blood rushing in your ears.

"What did you mean?" Spencer asks, and you blanche.

"I asked you first." the obvious retort, and Spencer exhales loudly, but there's no annoyance, no exasperation. Only amusement, like always.

"I've done enough talking, haven't I?" he asks. "I want to know what you're thinking." and his voice is so soft, full of tenderness that you feel like you're being serenaded. You feel like you've got a knot in your throat also, almost like you'll suffocate if you don't get your thoughts out. "I promise I won't leave you hanging." and you're not sure what he means by that, but it helps. It makes your heart stutter-step, and you need to catch your breath, because you can't believe this is actually happening, or that you're actually here.

"I-" you play withy your fingers, and you have to inhale deeply to ensure you don't chicken out. "Spence, I didn't tell you that you were important to me, because you said it first." you promise, and he nods, but he doesn't say anything. His eyes are syrupy, alluring, and beautiful, still twinkling under the dingy, flickering lights of the parking deck. "I said it because you're all I really think about." you admit, and his eyebrows furrow, and you're scared.

"And the last three weeks... I've been so mad at you." you blurt out. "I was the one that acted like a child, but I was angry with you, because I thought that you were making fun of me... and all the feelings I have for you." you exhale, and you look down at the ground, because the nerves that come with your words are overwhelming. "I was jealous, I acted like a child, but it was only because I thought you were rubbing it in my face... I thought you were being cruel."

Spencer's long lashes blink rapidly, but he's still stone silent. Probably because he knows that you're still not done. "And that wasn't fair of me, because I know you, Spence. You're not that type of person, but I just I couldn't reign myself in, and I acted immaturely because I was scared... and then just now, in the elevator... I almost did it again. I almost let you think that I don't care about you... but I do. Spencer, I have feelings for you." and you clear your throat, legs shaking.

"I'm in love with you, and I'm not... this isn't some trick or ploy or cry for help. I understand if you're mind is elsewhere... and I'm so sorry if the way I've been acting ruined everything, but I-I love you okay? That's what this has all been about. I'm sorry it took me so long to say something, but there it is." and you gasp, chest heaving now that you were finished. You finally look up at Spencer again, and he's staring you down. It doesn't feel hypersexual or heady with tension.

Instead, it's like the first intake of air into your lungs after being under water for so long. You supposed that's what the truth did, you supposed that's what your feelings for Spencer did when you allowed them to exist. "You mean that?" he asks, and you huff.

"Of course, I mean it. I mean it so much, I think I'm going to be sick." and despite himself he laughs, a bright beam following after it. He takes a small step towards you, and you feel crowded, the body heat from you both warming you up from the inside out. Still, despite how outwardly calm he looked in comparison to you, you managed to spot the shyness, the anxiety that rested in his own eyes. He looked unsure, almost like he was being careful not to ruin the moment.

"Do you know how long I've been wanting to hear you say that?" he asks, and you're shocked, stuck, surprised. You don't know if this is in your mind or if you just got lucky. "Have you ever-" he's got this gleeful look on his face. "There's this quote by Lao Tzu..." he stammers, "Love is of all passions the strongest, for it attacks simultaneously the head, the heart, and the senses." he quotes, and there are no butterflies... you think that might be a good thing.

"I don't know if there's been a time since I met you that you haven't been on my mind." Spencer explains, and there it is. "I think that's why I snapped the way I did, I don't think I ever imagined a scenario where we'd be here." he admits, and it pains you to know that he thought that way. "It was-" he motions between you both. "The thought of us being something was sort of just something I believed would always sort of just be a thought." Spencer's glowing red.

The blush coats his ears, cheeks, nose, and neck. His eyes are brighter, and his hands twitch at his side, almost like he's restraining himself. You think you only notice, because you're doing the same.

"I want to be with you." he says this so faintly you're almost unsure you heard him correctly. Your eyes widen, and your surprise is obvious. He takes a small step forward, and he's crowding you. It's nothing like the movies, in fact, the closer he gets to you, the more you're able to see the shyness in his eyes. He reaches out, and his hand ghosts over your side.

"Spence-" and the you that you were just an hour earlier, the one too scared to tell him the truth almost feels like she never even existed.

"Can I?" he asks, and your eyes drift to his hands that are inching closer to your body. You nod your head quickly, and he doesn't look amused. "I want to hear you." he says quietly. "I want you to tell me that I can." he adds, and you find yourself nodding anyway.

"Y-You can." you promise. "But I don't want you to pretend." his eyebrows furrow again. "Please don't do this if you don't mean it." you say, and Spencer's hands drop to your side, there's no wandering fingers, in fact it feels like he wanted to touch you for the sole purpose of keeping you from shaking any longer.

"Y/N, I want to be with you." he repeats it more firmly this time, and he's looking directly at you. It's intense, the eye contact more than anything else. He sounds sincere, and that makes you nervous.

"But what about..." and you trail off, because you don't know what to label the pretty woman he'd been entertaining. Spencer chuckles quietly, and his head shakes from side to side.

"She was nice." he reiterates the words he'd said three weeks prior. "But, she's not you... I don't think anyone would've been able to fill your shoes." he says, and you squeeze your eyes closed, because God, Spencer was so good with words. His hands are on your face, brushing at your cheeks as you shed a few long overdue tears. "Are these happy tears?" he asks hopefully, and your eyes shoot open. Your head nods, and you're not sure why you're so quiet.

Maybe, because life had thrown a curveball and surprised you in a good way. "Happy tears." you agree, and he presses his lips together, thumbs still working to keep the tears at bay. "I just can't believe-"

"Please do." he cuts you off, before you can get it out. "Believe this, believe me." he almost begs, and you hum. "Can I kiss you?" he asks, and you don't answer him, instead you surge forward and press your lips to his. You're certain security is getting a full view of the action, Spencer kisses like he wants to inhale you, and it's nice.. It's more than nice, his kisses are surged with emotion, every ounce of affection that his words had been drenched in was felt in the kiss.

Had breathing not been a factor, you might have stayed there. When you pull back to inhale, Spencer's got this twinkle in his eye that makes your nose scrunch up. "What?" you press, and he grins at you.

"You love me..." he breathes it out, and you're not sure if he's stating it or asking, but you suppose now that the cat's out of the bag, saying it again is nothing.

"Yeah. I love you, Spence." you promise, and he's quick to lean in and peck you on the lips. "D'you love me too?" you ask, once he's pulled back, and his hands move up, cupping both sides of your face as he drags his thumbs up and down.

"I love you." and it sounds like a promise.

So you believe him.

"It’s a profoundly strange feeling, to stumble across someone whose desires are shaped so closely to your own, like reaching toward your reflection in a mirror and finding warm flesh under your fingertips. If you should ever be lucky enough to find that magical, fearful symmetry, I hope you’re brave enough to grab it with both hands and not let go.” ― Alix E. Harrow

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader smut

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golden-cherry · 1 year

Text

deal - cl16 (17/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: That's definitely not the goodbye you wanted.

Warnings: angst, jealousy, swear words

Word Count: 3.3k

series masterlist

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A/N: sorry for this shitty chapter and sorry for keeping you waiting! feedback is appreciated! love ya.

It's not long before Charles falls asleep next to you.

You hear his soft breathing, the way the bedspread rustles as he slides his arm under the pillow and bends his right knee. Apparently he's lying on his stomach, snuggled tightly in the warmth of the bed you'll share for the second and last time.

That Charles has grown so close to your heart in exactly three days is something you would never have thought was possible in your life.

After Raphael cheated on you and your friends let you down, you vowed to take better care of yourself and your heart and never let anyone into your life so easily again. You resigned yourself to the fact that you would spend the next time alone until you could put your trust in someone again. And that had been perfectly fine with you, as long as it had kept further pain at bay.

But the brunette Monegasque, without making any particular effort, has walked into your life as if God personally had opened the gates for him, and has taken up residence with you as if he were a virus that is taking you over completely.

You turn away from him, but you can still feel the warmth of his body through the many layers of fabric that lie between you.

The fact that he will spend the next few days in Italy is a good start to building the wall that will keep your heart from great harm. It will create some distance between you, buy you more time in which to figure out your feelings. And if it really comes down to you feeling more than simple friendship for your roommate, you'll still have plenty of time to think of some way to handle the situation.

You're about to press your face into your pillow so it can stop the whirlwind of thoughts in your head when your cell phone lights up.

Lando: Did you know that the Eiffel Tower is about six inches taller in the summer than in the winter?

Confused, but grinning, you glance at the screen. It's the middle of the night - why is he sending you such a strange message at this late hour?

You cast a glance over your shoulder to make sure Charles is actually asleep before releasing the key lock, lowering your phone's brightness to its lowest setting, and starting to type.

You: Didn't know that. Why is that?

The "seen" with the little checkmark appears directly under your sent message, and a few moments later the typical three dots that appear when a reply is composed flash.

Lando: Due to thermal expansion, meaning the iron heats up, the particles gain kinetic energy and take up more space.

You have to smile, even suppress a giggle.

You: You googled that for sure.

Lando: You got me. I didn't know the best way to start a conversation.

You: I'd say the middle of the night is generally not a good time to start a conversation. What if I had already been asleep?

Lando: Then you would have woken up confused for sure and blocked me right after the message.

You: Then you're lucky I'm still awake.

Lando: I'm definitely lucky.

Behind you, Charles moves a little, but doesn't seem to wake up. You feel him scoot a tiny bit closer to you, as if he realizes you're still awake.

Lando: Have you ever been to Paris?

You: Unfortunately not. I'd like to go there sometime, though. And you?

Lando: I've been there before. Maybe we can go there together? Then I can show you the most beautiful places.

You have to grin. Straightforward guy he is.

You: Do you really think I would just travel to Paris with a semi stranger?

Lando: You're right about that. But that can easily be changed. You and me, tomorrow, dinner at 8?

You feel Charles rest his hand on your bedspread. It's like he subconsciously realizes you're about to go out with one of his friends. He exhales deeply, but doesn't move any further.

You: That was very smooth, Mr. Norris.

Lando: So is that a yes?

Without giving it much thought, you answer the Brit with a "Yes, I'd love to," whereupon he responds with a "Great. I'll get back to you tomorrow. Don't stay up too late and sleep well" back. You press the key lock on your phone and put it back next to your pillow.

Time you do have. Charles isn't around, and you don't have a job to go to every day, so your days are as free as the beach in winter. And for sure it will do you good to spend time with someone other than the Monegasque. Lando is nice and friendly and funny. And since the two of you don't live together, and the level at which you're getting to know each other is much more superficial than the one Charles and you are on right now, you shouldn't be in danger of taking him to your heart as quickly as your roommate.

Who by now has moved so close to you that you can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck. It's steady, coming in waves and brushing your skin like a warm summer breeze. For sure he is sleeping well, maybe even having a nice dream. He doesn't even know yet that it's the last time he'll sleep next to you.

You close your eyes, almost press your eyelids together and force yourself to fall asleep. With the ulterior motive that the person who is dearest to you right now is exactly the one with whom you will soon have to keep the most distance.

Something rustles.

The sound is close, but not so close that it could find its origin right next to your ear. It also sounds muffled, as if there is a thick piece of soft cotton between the sound and your eardrum, so you can't really hear what exactly is making that sound.

You press your face a little deeper into the pillow.

The rustling becomes louder.

Tired and with your eyes closed, you pull the blanket higher to your chin to cling to sleep. And for a brief moment it works, your mind slips back into a gentle slumber - until you hear a loud, unmistakable rumble.

Annoyed and above all confused, you open your eyes. Your cell phone reads 6:15 a.m. Who's making that kind of noise at this hour?

You sit up abruptly, as if you've been electrocuted, and the covers fall into your lap. Charles.

For sure he is packing up the last things before he wants to wake you up. To say goodbye to you. You're surprised you didn't hear his alarm clock. For sure he only rang it once briefly before your roommate turned it off so it wouldn't wake you up. Very kind and considerate.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed and slip into fuzzy socks so your feet don't freeze. As you tie your hair so it doesn't look like you've touched an electrical socket, you hear keys jingle.

Charles wouldn't leave without saying goodbye to you, would he?

Hesitantly, you go to the door of the room and open it slowly to make sure he's still there. And indeed, he hasn't left the apartment yet.

But he has shouldered his travel bag, his feet are in shoes, and the apartment door is open, as if he is about to take the first step out. When he hears you, he turns around.

Confused and still slightly sleepy, you stand in the doorway. You point your finger at the large bag. "Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?" you ask him, rubbing the heels of your hands over your eyes. Damn, it's definitely too early to be awake.

Your roommate steps unsteadily from one foot to the other. "I didn't mean to wake you." In his free hand, he holds his key.

You screw up your face. "But you wanted to say goodbye." You cross your arms in front of your chest. "You said you'd set an alarm so you could get up on time and we could say goodbye properly."

The situation is strange. You're standing in the doorway to the room where Charles shared a bed with you, as he stands on the threshold that separates this apartment from the rest of the world. It feels like he's trying to escape from what's happening inside these four walls. Like he can't wait to leave and leave you here.

He doesn't even want to say goodbye to you.

"I know, but-" he begins, but doesn't seem to know how to finish the sentence, which is why he just falls silent. His gaze wanders from your face to the room behind you before he lowers it to his shoes. He swallows once before looking at you again. "Can we talk about this another time?" he asks quietly. "I have to go."

What happened in the last few hours you were asleep? Did you do something to make him want to run away from here? To want to flee from you? The way he's standing there, he seems like he can't wait to finally leave the apartment. As if he had to quickly put as many kilometers as possible between you.

The fact that he doesn't want to talk to you about it unsettles you more than you'd like to admit.

When you were with Raphael, there were many arguments, after which you both went to bed without clearing up the situation or talking things out. That oppressive, stomach-churning feeling was so devastating and caused such nausea in you that you told yourself that you will never again let an argument or difficult situation just stand.

You don't want to go to bed angry. And you don't want anyone to go to bed angry and mad at you either.

"Did I do something?" you ask, letting your arms, which were crossed just a moment ago, fall to your sides. As a sign that you're ready to face whatever may follow. "Talk to me, please, Charles."

Of course, neither of you would go to sleep now. But the very thought that you won't see each other again for another four days, and thus parting, leaves a bitter taste on your tongue. Which you naturally want to get rid of as quickly as possible.

Demonstratively, he glances at his wristwatch. "I don't have time. Let's talk about it another time."

"It's 6:25. I thought you didn't have to leave until 7?"

He clenches his teeth. "I want to drive now." He's visibly tense, his hand almost tightening around the key. Charles doesn't want to drive. He wants to run. From you. And you don't know why.

Somewhere inside you, a small crack is opening up, uncomfortable, pressing on the pit of your stomach. Your discomfort worsens with each passing moment.

"What have I done?" you try again to get him to talk. You cross the room until you're standing in front of him. "Whatever it was - I'm sorry. I don't know what it is that I could have done that upset you so much. But I don't want you to leave now and be mad at me when we won't see each other again for another four days. Let's talk about it. Please."

It's almost pathetic how desperate you sound. Your voice trembles like it's going to break at any moment, and you can feel tears gathering in your eyes. You try to blink them away.

There have been countless situations like this with Raphael. It was always you who wanted to solve an argument. The one who tried harder. Who sacrificed more. And it has brought nothing.

Even though you two have only known each other for a few days, this argument is much worse. Because you don't know what you have done, and therefore you can't change anything. You can't find a solution here.

Charles doesn't seem to care that you are on the verge of crying. His gaze is hard and cold as he looks down at you. He looks at you as if you were a stranger just standing in his apartment.

As you reach out to him, he takes the last step over the threshold. The small crack inside you grows larger, now seems to have reached your heart, forming a great chasm. The wall that has been built so far has been of no use. It is completely useless.

"If you really want to talk to someone, why don't you talk to Lando?" His tone is icy and his gaze sprays venom.

Lando?

Charles seems to have picked up on your confused look. Annoyed, he rolls his eyes, which stings you further. "Now don't act like that. He texted me in the middle of the night asking what culinary cuisine you prefer for your dinner tonight." He raises an eyebrow. "And here I thought you'd already had an extensive conversation about it. What was it again? Canned soup and BigMac?"

Your discomfort gives way to an even more rotten feeling. Anger spreads through you like a wildfire you can't stop it. How dare he?

"What are you trying to say?" you ask calmly, even though everything is burning inside you. Charles interfering in this matter when he has no right to do so makes your anger spill over, but you know better than to take it out on him directly. You pull yourself together. Even though you'd like to strangle him, you don't want you two to fight.

"Come on, Y/N." His smile is spiteful and ugly - even though he's the most beautiful man on the planet. "We both know he's just trying to fuck you. So what's the point of dinner? It's just a waste of money."

Excuse me?

"What do you mean?"

He seems to think for a moment, as if he were struggling with himself to say the next words. "After all, what Raphael did to you doesn't seem to bother you much if you're going to date someone new right away. And you said yourself yesterday that you weren't going to meet anyone on this couch." He extends his free arm and waves it in a semicircle in front of him. "Let's do it, then. Monaco is full of rich men. Then you don't exactly have to hook up with one who's my friend."

Never in your entire life have you wanted to smack someone so badly as Charles at this moment.

He knows what Raphael did to you. And he also knows why your ex cheated on you. The fact that he now assumes that you would just jump into bed with Lando like that upsets you so much that you're at a loss for words.

You don't recognize him. The Charles who lets you stay with him for free, who makes you laugh, and who is so close to you at times that you have to consider how to protect your heart, has dropped off the face of the earth.

Opposite you is a mean and ruthless man you can't get away from fast enough. His words hit you harder than any blow could, and the tears in your eyes no longer originate in discomfort, but in pure rage.

You don't care what you did to make him act this way. You don't care what exactly happened between you that caused this argument to degenerate like this. And you don't care if you go to bed tonight mad at him.

This argument is different than the one over his phone call with Raphael or the one at dinner with his friends. It's too close, too personal, and for Charles to think of you that way, after everything you've told him about yourself, chokes your throat and makes your heart shatter into a thousand pieces.

"You can have the apartment," you say emotionlessly. Your fire is extinguished, your anger is suffocated. The only thing left is a dull feeling of grief.

How could you think Charles would be any different? That he would actually be a friend to you? You even showed him your favorite place. That wasn't even twelve hours ago.

"When you come back, I'll be gone." Your gaze is fixed on Charles, letting him know how serious you are. Something flashes in his eyes, but whatever it is - you don't care. "I hate you."

Without waiting for an answer, you close the apartment door. As you turn around, you feel like an intruder in your own home.

Which, theoretically, isn't even your home. It's Charles' home, it's his apartment. He's just been nice and let you stay with him. And he didn't do that because he saw a friend in you, but because he felt sorry for you, as you must now realize.

Did this "good deed" make him feel better? Did he let you stay here to prove to himself what a good guy he is after everything with Annika? Is he really that selfish?

Who exactly is Charles Leclerc?

You would like to leave the apartment immediately, because there is nothing that doesn't make you remember Charles. The couch reminds you of the evening when you drank wine and watched Cars. The kitchen table is where you eat pain au chocolat and croissants. The bathroom is where you grin at each other in the mirror as you brush your teeth. Charles is everywhere.

He's especially in the dark bedroom, too, when you return to lie down in bed. His sheets are still where you found them when you woke up, and his smell is all over the room, making it hard for you to breathe.

Pulling your own blanket up to your chin, you lie there staring at the ceiling, racking your brain as to where exactly you took a wrong turn. But for the life of you, you can't think of anything.

You turn on your side and take a deep breath. Charles' smell hits your nose and only now, surrounded by darkness and silence, do you allow yourself to cry. Tears roll down your skin and one sob after another escapes your sore throat, which feels as if it has been laced shut. Your body shakes like it's electrified and somewhere inside you think your heart has stopped beating.

The person you trusted the most has let you down. Your closest friend has dropped you without explaining himself to you.

But that's not what hurts so indescribably.

It hurts so much because it's Charles. The Charles you saw as your best friend after only a few days. The Charles who didn't judge you.

You slide to the other side of the bed and slip under Charles' covers so that you are now completely enveloped in his smell. You feel so close to him, even though he's so far away, and even though the warmth feels like a hug, you feel lonely. You cling to that hug that isn't a hug, because that's the closest thing you have left of him.

Tomorrow you would look for another apartment, maybe even move away from Monaco. And then you would pack your things and leave, just like you promised Charles. And you wouldn't break that promise - that deal, the way he broke his.

Not long ago, you didn't want to share the bed with him anymore, braced yourself for it to be the last time you'd be this close. You wanted to build the wall that would protect, should protect your heart.

But it's no use building a wall when your heart hasn't been yours for a while.

next part

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #carlos sainz jr #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc headcanon #lando norris #Charles Leclerc fluff #Charles Leclerc angst

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star-girl69 · 8 months

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protective clarisse save me ANWAYSSSS enjoy

*mentions of clarisse picking reader up and carrying her around

PLEASE ignore the fact i forgot ambrosia existed thanks 🙏🙏 yk i just be saying stuff

it starts out like any capture the flag game

except for the fact you’re on different teams

like in so it goes when clar tells y/n “don’t do anything i wouldn’t do”

everyone once in a while the teams switch up

and clarisse has a really hard time when you’re not on the same team, but she can usually function

she’s worried out of her mind obvi

we all know you’re her achilles heel

but for some reason this time clarisse just has a really bad feeling

she’ll probably threaten everyone on her team- if they so much as LOOK at you in the wrong way she’s going to make their lives a literal hell

and everyone is like ok scary lady 🫡

they all know clarisse don’t play about you

so the game is going pretty normal

you’re just doing your thing and clarisse is hunting around you

it’s really funny because you and a few of your siblings are just fighting whoever makes their way to you

and you win every time

bc clarisse is still letting you win 😭😭😭😭

the good members of her team get told to turn around

and then she lets the weaker ones, the stragglers she doesn’t care about, pass through and then smiles when you cheer after winning even tho she can’t see you

you feel her eyes on you tho sometimes it’s kinda creepy

but basically annabeth and the blue team had set up these trenches in random parts of the wood

they were lined with like a bunch of leaves and spare linens so they were soft at the bottom

but someone 🙄🙄🙄 ugh

forgot to soften up one of them and that’s the one you fall into

she hears you scream and she’s like WOAH HOLY FUCK

running through the woods you’re crying at the bottom of this 6 ft deep hole your siblings are screaming

like she literally throws herself to the ground and drags you out of the pit pure adrenaline

and like she could tell just by your screams and the look on your face that you were HURT HURT

but she knows you need her rn so she pulls you into her lap and asks what hurts

and you can’t even speak you’re in so much pain but you gesture to your leg and maybe clarisse just didn’t want to notice it before but like that bitch is BROKEN

she’s literally shaking

“it’s okay it’s okay baby it’s okay someone is gonna go get a healer right? SOMEONE IS GOING TO GO GET A HEALER, RIGHT?”

*cue like 10 random campers all running off*

and you’re screaming and crying and your siblings are freaking out so the game kinda stops bc everyone is like what happened 😭

then they just walk into this clearing and see you pale and crying and leg obviously broken, sitting in a shaking clarisse’s lap

one of her siblings definitely has to come over and subtly say that she’s like doing a good job LMAO

bc she is STRUGGLING

like she’s never been so scared in her life

her heart is pounding her hands are shaking

but for the first time in her life she’s not really angry right now

she’s just fucking terrified

and she HATES it

she’s stroking your hair and has her arm wrapped around your waist so tight

she tells you “just dig your nails into my arm”

and you can’t even comprehend what’s going on so she grabs your hands and let’s you squeeze so hard she swears her fingers come out a little crooked

FINALLY some apollo kids come over with a stretcher

so then she starts yelling at them “BE GENTLER SHES HURT DUMBFUCKS”

then finally after clarisse’s incessant screaming she holds your hand as they take you back to the healers

then 20 minutes later they reset your leg and put it in a little cast and give you some AMAZING painkillers

so you’re like omg

clarisse is like pale and sweaty and her heartbeat is so erratic one of the healers actually has to come over and be like “maybe you should sit down and get checked out..?”

she starts screaming at them

then you’re like “omg no my saviors are fighting ☹️☹️☹️☹️”

“no no i’m sorry i didn’t mean to make you sad it’s fine it’s fine we’re not fighting”

“yay!!!!!!!”

she has to lay down in your bed and take some really deep breaths in order to calm down

and you’re just happy bc you are floating and you have your gf with you

you’re babbling on about something and clarisse is like wtf is happening to me

but also she’s acting like you just died

holding your head to her chest and staring off into the distance like that one painting of ivan the terrible holding his dead son y’all know

and you’re just happy

she’s kissing all over your face and head and telling you about how she’s gonna help you

“i’ll carry you whenever you don’t feel like using your crutches, i’ll make sure you take all your medicine, i’ll find and kill whoever did this to you, i’ll sleep with you every night just in case, and i won’t let you out of my sight ever again, and i’ll make chiron switch the teams back”

she ends up doing all of those things obvi

she annoys chiron so much he makes a permanent rule that the ares and your cabin always have to be on the same team

clarisse becomes 10x worse in terms of protectiveness

like she’s watching you like a HAWK

she just felt so totally helpless in that moment so unprepared and she never wants to feel like that again

she doesn’t think her heart can take it actually 😭

she does find the person and loses dessert privileges for 5 months for what she did!!!!!

she sleeps with you ever night bc the meds make you sleep restlessly and she’s always there to whisper in your ear and lull you back to sleep

even if you’re like oh i can just use my crutches she’s always staring at the ground like it’s a monster that’s gonna hurt you so she’s like

“hm well i don’t think so actually haha just let me carry you”

“I WANT TO WALK CLARISSE”

*picking you up* “no it’s fine this is safest”

“LET ME DOWN”

basically you’re just the love of her life and she can’t imagine something else happening to you

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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pancake-breakfast · 10 months

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Of all the characters to appear thus far in Jujutsu Kaisen, I think Nanami has a particular way of appealing to viewers who are about mid-20 and up. To an audience that's spent time in the work field, that's tried to put in effort for a job that's ultimately a fabrication to make the rich richer and, at best, to not benefit the poor at all, and at worst, actively exploits them and holds them down. To those who have deep questions about the moral fabric of the societal systems they find themselves trapped in, and have questioned their own morality as someone who willingly (if grudgingly) participates in that system.

It's not really a surprise to discover he reflexively protects his soul with cursed energy. Learning to protect your soul is how you weather working under corrupt bosses for nebulous gain. If you can't (and sometimes even when you can), the job will slowly eat away at you, shaping you with its teeth to the perfect cog that it can keep turning until it breaks and is cast aside.

Jujutsu Society might not be much better than the corporate world when it comes to the corruption of those on the top, those who would willingly and too often happily feed the very people they're supposed to protect to a machine they know will destroy them. But at least there, Nanami can embrace a part of him that he tries to keep hidden.

Nanami is, at his core, a protector. Not just physically. When he notices that he and Itadori are fighting humans and not curses, he takes it on himself to do the killing so Itadori doesn't have to get blood on his hands. In Shibuya, his main focus with all the younger and less powerful sorcerers seems to be to get them out of there, even if they could be of help. This isn't because he's underestimating them, but because he doesn't want them hurt. Or hurt more than they've already been hurt.

Jujutsu Society may be just as shit as normal work, but at least there, he can protect others, so he goes back to it knowing full well he's probably signing his own death warrant in doing so.

We can't all find jobs that will allow us to retire young in Malaysia. In fact, most of us won't, and even those who might may find it's not actually worth the cost. But I hope we can at least find a job that's our Jujutsu Society, where maybe it's still shit, but it feeds our soul in a way we need to be fed.

It's what Nanami would want for us.

#nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen #character analysis #pancake thoughts #nanami appreciation week #yes i know already i'm coping

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ki-yomii · 6 months

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baby, don't go | myg

➥pairing | ex!min yoongi x f!reader, mentioned f!reader x omc ➥word count | 5.1k ➥warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, squirting, hand job, finger fucking, porn w/ plot, angst w/ a happy ending, alcohol, exes to lovers, implied cheating (omc is a fuckboy), implied getting back together (reader & yoongi still low key love each other), idol!yoongi ➥summary | "hii can I request for an exes to lovers trope with yoongi 😭💖 lovee your ficss" you find out your boyfriend is cheating on you. thankfully your ex Yoongi is more than happy to distract you. ➥notes | hope you enjoy this anon 😘💚 omc & ofc are named after characters from one of my favourite k-dramas (personal taste iykyk)

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

Standing beside you, your friend Kae-In takes a swig of whatever's in her cup - a sickly sweet concoction of fruity soju and Chilsung, most likely - and coolly surveys the backyard.

Small groups of people dot the manicured lawn, others lounging by the fire as they catch up with one another. It's been far too long since everyone's schedules aligned like this.

Years in fact, and there are several who came in from out of town.

Ordinarily you'd be over the moon, but as it were you can barely drum up enough false excitement for your best friend. Let alone others you haven't seen in forever.

Cocking her hip, Kae-In puckers her mouth. "The alcohol isn't even that good." She sighs, pretty face scrunching in disappointment. "Some party this is turning out to be."

Your hard cider, still more than half-full, hides an awkward, ill-fitting smile.

Having nursed your own drink for the last hour, whatever might've been enjoyable about it is long gone. Any refreshing coolness and bright, punchy taste replaced by amber liquid far past room temperature in your clammy palm.

In fact, the fizzy warmth and tart aftertaste of moldering apples turns your stomach with every half-hearted sip.

"At least there's cute guys here - some of them have really grown up."

Her breath ruffles the fringe of her bangs when she huffs, casting an eye to the glass bottle strangled in your grip.

"Are you sure you don't want something a little stronger?"

You shrug. "Yeah, I'm fine - gotta be the DD just in case, y'know?"

"Girl, you're ALWAYS the DD. C'mon, you gotta live a little sometimes."

The nonchalant scolding stings, even if it's meant almost entirely in jest but it's not Kae-In's fault. She doesn't know. No one does. You couldn't muster up the courage to tell her the truth.

Not yet.

It's still too fresh. The wound too raw to go poking around with clumsy fingers.

"Don't be like that," you say with a faltering smile. "I'm having fun."

LIAR.

In actuality, you're a few frayed threads away from snapping. Stuck clinging to the edge of sanity by the fingernails as you battle back tides of crippling grief and blinding rage.

Have been since the first few messages came rolling in; questions with videos attached. There's a part of you grateful they reached out, while another altogether wishes you hadn't seen.

At least not until morning.

Would one more night spent in ignorant bliss have been too much to ask for?

Now you're riding a corkscrew of emotion, one that roils and chafes as ceaseless images parade past your eyelids with every blink. Each one as crisp and clear as the first time you pressed play.

The swirling lights, the heady thrum of bodies. A darkened corner. Your boyfriend of three years who said he couldn't make it. His hand sneaking beneath the hem of a cheap, glittery skirt. The dip of his head as he tucks into the curve of a neck, mouth open and smiling against bare skin.

You shudder, stomach rebelling. When you swallow, it's like trying to down buckets of sand.

Kae-In, none the wiser, flicks her hair over her shoulder. "Well, that makes one of us. I guess." Shrugging, she turns to you and asks with a furrowed brow, "Are you sure you're okay? You seem... a little off."

Panic grabs you by the throat.

This was supposed to be a night full of fun and laughter. You're not supposed to be suffocating in a crowded backyard. On the brink of tears and trying to act like your life hasn't imploded.

Alone - by your own doing, which is even worse - to deal with the crushing weight of an inevitable breakup. The painful extrication of two lives entwined.

How a relationship three years in the making can be shattered in a minute and forty-five seconds is mind boggling. You had it all, and now...

You thought you were going to marry him.

The whiplash of it all almost makes you laugh but only so you don't break down in great, heaving sobs. A heartbreak you're not sure you'll ever recover from. Not for the loss of him but rather the decimation of your trust.

"I'm okay, promise! No need to worry."

The lie weighs heavy on your tongue. Tastes of ash as the words you really want to say hover in the back of your throat, a breath away. Only they can't make it past your lips, stuck to your teeth like hard candy.

"It's just been one of those days."

Your shoulders shoot towards your ears when she hums in response. Fingernails picking at the corner of the sweating cider label so you don't have to meet Kae-In's piercing gaze. You know she can see right through you, and you hate it.

What started as a fun night of planned mayhem turned into desperate distractions though this party has done very little in terms of brightening your mood.

Instead, watching everyone you know have a good time while you stand on the side lines, a stranger in a sea of people, feels more akin to rubbing salt in an open wound.

Miserable but acting like you’re not; waves of bitter loneliness threatening to pull you under because you don’t want to ruin the night.

“Is this because Chang-ryul couldn’t make it?” Kae-In pats your back sympathetically. “What bullshit excuse did he give you this time? I swear, he always does this. Just wait. I’m gonna hit him next time I see him.”

Oh, you don’t even know, you think. You’ll definitely want to do more than hit him.

Your heart throbs at the sound of his name, and isn’t that funny? Such a simple thing - nothing but syllables and letters strung together - and yet it has the power to unmake you completely.

Your tongue swells as you struggle to swallow. Words burn like bile as you force out a laugh; brittle, scraped up from the depths of your chest

“I’d pay to see that,” you croak. Your knuckles ache from how tightly you’re gripping the bottle. “But - no. C-Chang-ryul has nothing to do with it.”

You hate that you stutter over his name.

And perhaps that’s why you don’t want to tell Kae-In just yet.

She’s always hated him.

Always said he was no good. Just another fuckboy looking for beds to warm and hearts to break. And she’s right.

God, why does she have to be right?

You know she’d never hold it over you, but the thought of admitting it - out loud - makes you want to vomit all over your shoes. You need time to stitch your edges back together. Too raw and ragged.

You only just found out.

Your pride can’t handle any more hits right now.

She thumbs her nose with an inelegant snort. “Whatever you say. I could take him in a fight. That boy ain’t shit.”

Your laugh startles you - the first genuine one of the evening - and you shake your head fondly. A soft smile tugs at your lips.

“Oh, no doubt. But really, I’ve just been in a weird mood.”

The twist of her lips shows she doesn’t believe a word you’re saying, but she’s kind enough not to press. Instead, she spends the next while distracting you with tales of her various escapades of the week.

And it helps for a time, truly.

But then you feel a buzz against your thigh, a ding echoing up from your pocket. Your stomach turns to lead, drops to your feet. Without looking at the screen, you pull the cell out of your pocket with shaky hands and quickly flick the ringer off.

Meanwhile, Kae-In watches silently with sharp eyes, and an even sharper frown though she declines to comment on your behavior.

“Anyway,” she continues once she has your attention, “as I was saying, did you see little Ji-Seok? Dude shot up like a tree! Last time I saw him he was as big as a bean sprout.”

You hum, worlds away.

“You could at least act like you’re paying attention,” she sucks her teeth before a smirk starts to slowly tug at her lips, “How about we talk about something - or someone - I know you’ll be interested in?”

Guilt sparks but slowly gives way to dread. You know that expression. Have gotten into trouble more times than you can count because of it.

Heart tattooing a rhythm against your rib cage, you sputter, “Oh no. No! Do not look at me like that.”

“C’mo-on!” she wheedles. “You’re absolutely right. We should be talking about,” she points at someone across the yard with her cup, “Yoongi instead.”

Currently leaning back against a stone wall making up part of the fence, Yoongi nurses a beer. Sticking out like a sore thumb now that he’s making it big as an idol, no longer as mundane as the rest of them.

Hushed whispers follow his every move, his bleached hair and flashy outfit commanding all sorts of covert attention.

The sharp cut of his shirt flatters his lean frame, the black leather jacket over top emphasizing the width of his shoulders. Dark jeans cling to his legs, as tight as a second skin, and causing your attention to stray where it shouldn’t.

And his eyes - oh, how you ever forgot is beyond you.

Dark, hooded, deep, and hungry; intense as they drag over the planes of your face like the caress of his fingers.

Shit.

You shove Kae-In’s hand down with a loud smack before she makes an even bigger fool out of you in front of another ex.

“What the hell are you doing?” You hiss. “That’s so rude!”

Not to mention embarrassing as fuck.

“Y’know,” she pauses to wiggle her brows and shoot you an impish grin, “I bet Yoongi would be more than happy to remind you of how rude he can be.”

You smother a groan in your hands, heartache temporarily forgotten. “I can’t believe you. Seriously. We’re no longer friends.”

“Bitch, you love me. And anyway, you know what I can’t believe?” She asks. “You!”

She gestures towards him again amid your flailing attempts to stop her. “Look at him. Like goddamn, you had it good.”

You take a sip of cider to give your hands something to do, nearly blanching at the warm liquid. Refusing to respond or look up as the topic of conversation watches like a hawk, gaze heavy.

How can he still make you weak-kneed after all this time?

He wasn’t even touching you and you still feel his presence down to your toes, setting your teeth on edge.

You hear your own heartbeat, your breathing shaky, sparks of awareness dancing along your spine. Heat creeps into the apples of your cheeks.

“Knock it off, I’m serious.”

“No, when are you going to get that Chang-ryul isn’t good for you?”

You swallow roughly, all the moisture leaving your mouth.

“Yoongi was the best boyfriend you ever had and treated you the way you deserve. And you know he’s never been interested in anyone but you. Hell, he’s barely looked away from you since he got here and the break-up was years ago.”

You shift, perspiration breaking out on your brow. “Can we please stop talking about this?”

“When will you give it up?” She blows a raspberry, shaking her head. “I know you regret how it went down between you guys. Now that he’s here - when you finally have a chance to make it right you just - just - ugh!”

Shooting her a weak half-smile and a shrug, you turn your attention to the small glowing fire pit.

Other’s are gathered around it, relishing in the glow of warmth that wars against the balmy summer breeze cutting through the air. Focusing on the dance and flicker of the flames is a needed moment of peace in entropy.

Though you know it isn’t going to last - not with a motormouth for a friend.

“So-o, what are you waiting for?”

“Sorry?”

She nods towards Yoongi subtly.

He’s finally busy with his own conversation, his gummy smile a quick flash of brightness. “When are you going to stick it to Chang-ryul and hop on that dick?”

“Oh my god!”

Kae-In shrugs. “What.”

“Don’t 'what' me. Seriously?”

A bony elbow digs between your ribs. You wheeze.

“C’mon,” she says, “You already know it’s good with him, and you deserve someone who’s there for you 110%. Someone who will treat you right. You know I worry about you.”

A wave of emotions threatens to completely drown you in that moment, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Her tender concern - her care - feels altogether too much and not enough.

As overwhelming as a tsunami; your heart a raw, exposed nerve.

All you’ve ever wanted was to be loved.

To feel like someone’s first and only choice.

You used to think Chang-ryul was someone who could provide that. What a fool you’ve been. Men like him don’t fall in love, they only pretend to.

They sneak inside your heart and take what they want from your bed. To him, you’re nothing but a fun little stop; a footnote, read and forgotten.

Your heart squeezes, shuddering from a pain your palm can’t soothe away.

It’s a terrible idea.

But maybe…

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to lick your wounds with someone you know cares about you. Has always cared about you, and probably always will.

Clearing your throat, you consider his profile from beneath your lashes.

Yoongi's always made you feel wanted. Looked after you as though you were something rare and precious.

It’s been a long time since you’ve felt that.

Somehow, some way, he senses you looking because he pauses mid-sentence.

Turns to meet you head-on, tracing your face with what can only be called greed. Stopping short when they catch on the lip trapped between your teeth.

Something akin to hunger cuts across his face.

His brows dip low, a palpable heat flooding the inky depths of his eyes. Shadows deepen the lines of his face, the shifting firelight highlighting the flex of a jawline for days, burning halo gold in his hair.

It’s a look you’re intimately familiar with.

Usually preceding a hand-shaking, mind-numbing fuck session where his cock gets as deep as it can, rutting hard and fast, bringing you over the edge again and again until you’re left a wrecked mess.

Your heart jumps, gallops headlong into a rapid beat.

You feel the rush of blood in your chest, every breath stuttered, stomach lurching. Shaking. Jittery. Tongue tied in a thousand knots and you haven’t even said a word.

It was much easier to pretend you weren’t so magnetically drawn to Yoongi when you weren’t riding the single’s train. When he was away in Seoul chasing after his dreams.

Now that he’s got downtime and your relationship has hit a brick wall? His mere presence sears you to the bone. Drags you in like a black hole.

And that?

So not good.

Swallowing roughly, you tear your attention away. You’d forgotten how intense and blindly bright he can be.

There’s a throb developing in your temple, sharp little darts of pain lancing through your skull. An impending headache if you don’t get some air that doesn’t taste like wood-smoke and cheap alcohol.

“I think I’m gonna head in for a bit. Need to get away.”

You shake your head and toss your bottle into the bin on the way inside, Kae-In shouting her acknowledgement with a thumbs up. Makes you promise to contact her in case of any change in plans.

Nearly everyone’s outside so it should be less crowded, more quiet. Most importantly, away from Yoongi and that penetrating stare which makes you more flustered than you care to admit.

Alas, the kitchen isn’t empty not for long.

You’re lounging against the counter, elbows bent, head rolled back and stinging eyes closed when the back door creaks open. Biting off a groan, you swivel your head to the side.

When you see it’s Yoongi who follows you in, you almost slip and brain yourself on the tile. Mouth dry, palms sweaty, heart beating out of control; scrambling into a more flattering posture while patting down your hair.

He chuckles, his nose scrunched and smile coy.

Seeing him happy always makes you tender, weak.

It seems that hasn’t changed a bit.

No amount of pictures or videos do it justice. Granted, Yoongi looks good any time, any day. But seeing his whole face light up like that in person? Utterly priceless.

It’s a struggle to breathe properly around the lump forming in your throat.

Of course, it has to be him.

Wiping your palms off on your thighs, you greet him with an awkward wave, “Uhhh, hey - hey there, Yoongi.”

Oh my god. Abort mission, I repeat, abort mission.

“Y’know what,” you say, “I was just about to head back outside…”

As you pass by, he catches your arm.

Long fingers curl around your wrist, callouses dragging across your pulse. Your gut clenches, an unexpected bloom of warmth shooting through your core at the sight of his broad palm holding you captive.

His grip is firm but loose enough that you could pull away.

All it serves to do is remind you of nights spent beneath his body, the slide of sweat-slick skin, the taste of him heavy on your tongue, pussy filled to the brim with cock. His rough voice music to your ears, prideful as he gloats about how well you’re taking him.

"Leaving so soon?” He asks silkily.

A hard tug sends you slamming into the wall of his chest.

Air rushes from your lungs, your hands trapped against his collarbones. Firm muscles contract beneath your palms, his body shoving into your touch.

Twisting your fingers in the soft cotton of his shirt, you look at him from beneath your lashes. Your voice whisper soft when you say, “Yoongi…”

His dark eyes, the colour of a rich espresso, track the path of your tongue as you wet your lips. Fingers drag over the soft line of your neck, tracing your fluttering pulse.

Touch feather light as it stops by the corner of your mouth, pressing down on the swell of your lip.

“I haven’t said hello yet.”

Eyes wide, all you do is watch and wait with baited breath. Stunned into silence at his proximity. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close, the smell of his expensive cologne nostalgic.

Your body recognizes his, responding all the same. The connection between you electric, overwhelmingly so.

His head bows, bleached strands brushing your forehead. The tip of his nose rubs yours. You get lost in counting his eyelashes, tracing the bridge of his nose to the carved slope of his cheeks.

Surrounded by him, the urge to resist what’s happening is nearly non-existent. Though you wish it wasn’t so easy to be caught by him.

“One of the guys said something interesting,” he says, his breath ghosting across your face; mint and beer. “It's about you actually.”

He flashes the smile that sends your heart soaring, your stomach flipping.

The slightest peek of a metal chain resting in the crook of his neck, surrounded by a very tempting patch of skin you want to taste, has you a little dumbfounded, absentminded.

“Oh?”

You really hope you don’t sound as frazzled as you feel but the haughty superiority of his slow appraisal of your body, the cocksure smirk on his lips states otherwise.

You really wish you could knock him down a peg but confidence looks amazing on him.

Always has.

“They said you have a boyfriend now. Is that true?”

You manage the slightest shake of your head in the negative - no, not anymore - your heart thundering in your ears.

Your breath catches in anticipation just before Yoongi closes the remaining inches between you with a hum of approval.

His head tilts to the side as he slots your mouths together in a kiss that’s got your toes curling. A filthy wet slide of lips, his the slightest bit chapped, send you under, liquid warmth filling your belly.

You inhale sharply, a moan vibrating against his lips.

Melting into the cage of his arms as his hands clamp down on your hips possessively, tugging you closer. Pressed stem to stern like this there’s no hiding the evidence of his desire.

He’s already half-hard in his jeans, his erection pressing against the zipper.

His eyes are hooded when he pulls away.

“Wanna take this somewhere a little more private, baby?” Yoongi asks, running his nose up the length of your neck and inhaling.

How is this my life, you think, dazed.

His hips grind forward against you so there’s no mistaking what you’re dealing with. “It’ll be just like old times.”

After an awkward fumble and an elbow to the side, you settle on the downstairs bathroom. He follows, quickly pinning you to the door while struggling to toss his leather jacket over the sink.

With a flick of the lock, you’re finally alone without any possible interruption. The door muffles most of the ruckus outside, leaving you hyper aware of every hurried breath, every low-throated murmur.

For a long while it’s nothing but a mess of lips, his body molding to yours. Easy to fall back into the old rhythms of your relationship as though you never left it.

He holds you down.

His fingers in your hair, on your jaw. His tongue gliding over your lip, sucking it into his mouth and letting it slide back out through his teeth.

You meet him kiss for kiss, your hands finding their way into his back pockets, tugging, groping, loving how he bucks up into the cradle of your hips in response.

A sweet ache settles low and deep.

“Yoongi,” you sigh. “Fuck, I forgot how much you like to tease.”

His thumb circles your nipple through your shirt, teasing it into a sensitive, stiff peak that shows through the thin fabric.

The caresses send soft pulses straight to your clit, the intensity getting stronger and stronger the rougher he is.

Before long, you’re aware of how achingly empty you are.

Yoongi nips the corner of your jaw.

“Never forgot how fun teasing you is,” he murmurs into the silk of your skin. “How wet you get for me.”

“Shit, you can’t just say something like that.”

“Can’t I?” His laugh, genuine and vibrant, sounds through his chest and into yours. “You can bitch all you want, but I know you love it.”

A smile, all teeth.

“Isn’t that right, baby?”

You glare at him weakly through half lidded eyes.

Two can play that game.

“Fuck!” Yoongi bites out, those impossibly dark eyes sliding shut when you reach down to palm him through his jeans.

His breath whooshes from him in a loud exhale, his jaw working back and forth. “That’s cheating.”

You smirk, feeling him throb in your hand.

”What were you saying, Yoongs?” Humming, you rub your chest against his, using a fingertip to trace the outline of his shaft. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

Spearing you with a weighted look, Yoongi shoves you back into the door harder than before, the wood creaking under the pressure. Fist resting on the frame next to your head, his body cages you in.

Every shuddered inhale has the planes of his firm chest pressing into yours with the expansion of his lungs. His hips buck up into the softness of your palm with a grunt.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, pretty girl,” he cautions.

Competitiveness is a gift and a curse.

Not one to be outdone, you brush away any lingering reservations - which being honest, there weren’t many left. His relieved groan when you tug out his cock reverberates through you.

Shit, that’s so unfair.

Yoongi already sounds wrecked yet you’ve barely touched him. How the fuck are you going to get through this without completely combusting when he actually cums?

Thinking that maybe focusing on what you’re doing will help, you look down.

Big mistake.

Dark designer jeans circle his thighs, low enough for his cock to spring free.

Flushed, curved towards his belly, the head swollen and sticky with pre-cum. The shaft a decent handful that pulses when your palm skims the side.

Feminine appreciation at the sight has velvet heat pooling between your thighs, pussy clenching at the thought of him inside you.

Sex with him was always stupidly good.

All those veiled lyrics about his skill in the bedroom far too accurate for comfort.

Since you broke up, you haven’t been with anyone that comes close to his ability in getting you off.

He’s ruined you.

His face burrows into the crook of your neck with a low groan. His breath puffs across your skin, shivers racing down your spine.

Low voice full of grit, he says, “Shit, baby, that feels…”

Hot palms anchor themselves to your hips.

“Wait a sec,” he says, body twitching with aborted thrusts, strong fingers kneading. “Wanna do you too.”

Heart jumping, you let go of him long enough to yank your shirt over your head and kick off your pants before returning your hand to his cock.

In the meantime, he rucks his shirt up under his armpits. You can’t help but make a noise in the back of your throat as the length of his torso is exposed.

All that soft, smooth skin stretching over his stomach as he flexes. You have to fight down the urge to run your tongue along the outline of his hip.

Mouth slack, Yoongi pushes up the cups of your bra. Watches laser-focused on the bounce of your tits as they drop free, subtly swaying with every jerk of your wrist.

His hips fuck up into the circle of your hand while one of his own inches down to brush the crease of your thigh. Your hips tilt towards his touch, desperate for friction.

“Oh god.” He moans, calloused fingers dipping between your folds. “You’re so wet for me.”

You wiggle, whining against his lips as you meet in a messy kiss. His touch is light, gentle, barely there as he traces the length of your slit.

You’re trembling, skin too tight, body feverish. “Stop teasing, I want you inside me.”

Those seem to be the magic words because Yoongi gives a rumble of approval, using his thumb to spread slick over your swollen clit in tight circles.

Heat coils in your belly, electricity racing down your spine. Your thighs splay as wide as they can, making room for his hand.

His knuckles brush your skin.

Dipping down to your entrance, Yoongi works on spreading you open with shallow thrusts until you take three fingers comfortably.

Your needy sighs and soft moans bounce off the walls.

His low murmurs right in your ear as the pads stroke your walls, his wrist flexing. He’s hitting all the right spots, still remembering how to get you off years after the fact.

You’re quickly turning weak-kneed and wet eyed.

“Fuck, Yoongs, right there,” you keen, baring down on the digits nudging your g-spot, your grip tightening around his shaft.

You grind your palm over the swollen tip, gathering beads of pre-cum.

He hisses, thrusts off beat.

Fingers nudge up suddenly, pressing deep and holding in retaliation. White lightening crackles behind your eyelids, thighs twitching, mouth dropping open.

“Yeah, just like that, pretty girl.”

Your world narrows down to every filthy slide of his cock in your hand, every gush of slick as he stuffs fingers into you over and over again until you’re a writhing mess against the door.

Your nerve endings are alive with pleasure, the stimulation too much and not enough.

“Please, don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, doubling his efforts, wrist working faster.

Dapples of sweat litter his brow, his eyes staring into yours, glazed over and lusting.

Fuck, he’s handsome like this.

It’s a little embarrassing how bad he’s got you but between the blissed-out expression he’s wearing, the weight of him in your hand, and how full you are, you know this orgasm is going to be quick, messy.

The pace of his hips pick up, his breath hitching in his throat, length twitching and thickening in your grip.

He’s getting close, his touch rougher, more force behind the snapping thrusts of his hips, teeth nipping at the side of your neck.

“Come on, baby,” you say, breathless, twisting your hand on the upstroke. He smothers a grunt in your shoulder. “Give it to me.”

It doesn’t take much more to bring him to the edge.

A particular spread of his fingers has you jolting, a sudden, intense spike of pleasure shooting right to your clit.

In turn, you unintentionally massage his cock, knuckles bumping the underside of the swollen head.

He’s a goner.

Cumming with a low, wounded whine and a shuttered thrust, Yoongi smacks the door with his free hand. Thick spurts of jizz make an absolute mess of his stomach and your knuckles.

Sagging forward like a doll with cut strings, all his dead weight bears down on you.

He pants, small tremors wrack his frame. “Baby,” he murmurs, pressing a wet kiss to your jaw, “I missed you s’much.”

“Missed you too,” you reply, using nice, languid strokes to wring the last of his orgasm out of him. “More than I thought I did.”

In lieu of a response, Yoongi wiggles his fingers inside you, rebuilding the rhythm he lost. He flutters them, curls up against your walls, peppering kisses along the length of your jaw with a hum.

Slick drips down his wrist, the sloppy sound of him finger fucking your cunt blending with a surge of desperate moans.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Yoongi says against your chin. “So fucking hot, wanna see you cum.”

Your back arches, your fingers digging into the width of his shoulders, head smacking the door with a dull thud.

“Can you do that for me?”

Nodding frantically, you fall apart with a broken gasp. Clamping down so hard he can’t move, the cramps softened by the throbbing heat washing over you. Blood rushes in your ears as your pussy gushes around his fingers.

“Good girl,” he praises, tone heated. “You did so well for me.”

By the time your brain comes back online, you’ve forgotten all about Chang-ryul and the constant vibration of your phone where it’s shoved - forgotten - into your pocket.

The only thing that matters is Yoongi with his tender kisses and greedy hands.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #min yoongi x reader #yoongi #min yoongi x you #bts min yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #bts x reader #bts fanfic

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florwons · 1 year

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‧₊˚ ⋅ hurt — nishimura riki ‧ ˚₊‧

synopsis you hated niki. he hated you. despite your ongoing rivalry, your recent arm injury seems to have had an unexpected effect on your so-called enemy. rather than making fun of your injury, he's shown a surprising twist of kindness by wanting to draw on your cast instead.

pairing rival!niki x fem!reader genre fluff, e2ls, hs au !

warnings profanity, injury, just niki and reader being a bickering mess !! typical rival things

featuring danielle newjeans jungwon enhypen wc 2303 !

note first enha work !! first time on blr and i think i’m getting a hang of it.. took too much time figuring out everything though 😵‍💫. i guess this happens when you’re bored (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝) anyhow, i just think niki fits e2ls !! also i think he fits this cute idea i was thinking about so why not combine the two ?? might also create a part 2 to this !!

— read part 2 here !

"Wow, two whole months for it to heal? I’m sure it hurt, didn’t it?" Danielle exclaimed, her expression filled with shock as she glanced from your cast to your face. The two of you were seated next to each other during your first period, giving her a chance to closely examine your injury.

"Yeah," you replied with a touch of sarcasm, a sigh escaping your lips as you gazed at the plain, white cast encasing your arm. "Just the sort of thing that can happen when you take up a part-time job at a convenience store. But, my doctor assured me it's not too serious, so this arm should be back to its usual self soon!" You lightly tapped your arm with your free hand, showing her that you’re completely fine.

"Well, it's still frustrating to have to let it heal for that long," she pouted, receiving a light chuckle from you. Extending your uninjured arm, you gently held her hand, offering her a soft smile. "Don't worry, Danielle. Two months will fly by."

You were truly grateful for a friend like Danielle, who consistently showed concern for your well-being. It made you wonder why your life couldn't be filled with people like her instead of people like him. But no, the universe had different plans and had given you Niki, your classmate, or rather your enemy.

This rivalry with Niki had its roots all the way back to elementary school, and due to both of your stubbornness, it had been brought into your high school years. Poor Danielle found herself caught in this mess, being friends with both of you. You did feel bad for involving her, but the blame fell largely on Niki, who seemed to exist solely to get under your skin.

"Does... you-know-who... know about your injury? You guys walk to and from here together," Danielle hesitated, bringing up him in the conversation cautiously. You shook your head and replied, "No, not as far as I know. I actually left a bit early today—oh no."

Your hand instinctively moved to your forehead, the beginnings of a headache forming from the thought. Danielle let out a small gasp, concern evident in her expression. "What's wrong, YN? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine—wait, no, I'm not!"

"Why? What's the matter?"

"It's Niki! I just remembered that he's probably going to make fun of my injury for the entire two months." You slumped in your chair, already envisioning the scenarios in your mind. "That asshole."

“You actually got me worried!”

"Sorry, but this is something you should be worried about! Niki's constant teasing might be the end of me!"

"YN, you'll handle it. You both argue every day, anyway," Danielle said with a dismissive tone, not fully grasping how serious the issue felt to you. After all, Niki having another reason to mock you during class was far from trivial.

You sighed, realizing that you really wished for your arm to heal as quickly as possible.

In what seemed like no time at all, the second period arrived—a bit faster than usual. You hurried into the classroom, aiming to get into your seat promptly. But there was no use of that if he’s your seatmate! Just why couldn’t it be Danielle? You silently cursed your teacher for arranging the seating this way. More people started filling the classroom, and Niki’s unmistakable blonde hair caught your attention — he was walking your way.

His gaze fixed strangely on your arm as you withdrew it from the desk, letting it hang at your side. You deliberately avoided meeting his eyes, unwilling to deal with his presence at the moment. The scrape of his chair against the floor caught your ear, prompting you to take a deep breath. "Already pissed?" His voice carried a teasing tone, and you could practically feel the smirk in his words, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Aw, you got my routine down already?” You scoffed, placing your notebook on your desk. You were determined to shut out his annoying voice, but of course, life had other plans. "Seems like it. Just call it the Niki effect, I guess."

"Yeah, a real heartwarming effect," you replied monotonously, your attention shifting to the front of the classroom. In the corner of your eye, you could see him take out a notebook as well. You silently hoped he'd simply focus on his work and not pay attention to you, though it seemed he had different intentions.

“What’s up with your arm?” he points at your injured arm with his pencil. Now that made you wish you could snap that pencil in half. Nonetheless, you managed to maintain your composure, or at least tried to, as you responded calmly. "Oh, you know, just your typical arm-breaking experience. Nothing major—just a cozy two-month wait for it to return to normal."

"I didn't need a breakdown of your recovery process, but I suppose thank you for letting me know,” Niki remarked, adjusting his seat position. "Wouldn't expect any less from someone like you."

Holding onto your pencil, the pressure of it snapped its lead, and you clenched your teeth in frustration. "Do you ever know when to just keep your mouth shut?" you retorted, your tone edged with irritation.

"It's one of my finer qualities—maybe you should catch up," he shot back, a hint of amusement evident in his voice.

"Sure thing. Just do me a favor and stay quiet for two months, will you?"

He raised an eyebrow. "And what's in it for me?"

"Me sparing you from my rude remarks—just not like what you're doing right now."

“Can’t make any promises,” He dragged the last word, making you sigh. He smiled slightly, knowing he knew exactly how to piss you off.

The bell rang, and relief washed over you like a wave. Hastily gathering your belongings, you were so focused on getting out of the classroom that you failed to notice Niki's gaze on you. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you headed toward Danielle. Unknown to you, Niki's attention lingered, a subconscious concern for your well-being flickering in his mind.

"Niki? Niki!" Jungwon tapped him on the shoulder, causing Niki to start slightly. Wait, what was he doing just now? Before he could analyze his actions, Jungwon pulled him from his thoughts. "You seemed out of it for a bit. Are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, I spaced out for a second. Let's not miss our third period, alright?" Niki hurriedly packed his things, walking alongside Jungwon, his earlier behavior still puzzling him.

Niki's earlier slip-up had him lost in thought, and it continued especially during P.E. class. His eyes were drawn to you, sitting on the bleachers with a bored expression, casually observing the movement of the others. Then, unexpectedly, you excused yourself and headed toward the nurse's office. Niki found himself continuing to watch you, his focus on you more than anything else around.

"Hey, Niki!" A familiar voice brought his attention away from you, just in time to see a ball hurtling his way. He attempted to react, but the ball had already hit his arm. Wincing, he gripped his arm, a small crowd forming around him. Mr. Kim scolded him, and Niki nodded in acknowledgment—it was his fault for not paying attention.

“Take this pass and go get an ice pack,” Mr. Kim said, already finishing up the pass for him. At first, he contemplated declining, but then he remembered that you were in the nurse's office.

This was the fastest he ever grabbed a pass. His movements were swift as he exited the gym and quickly navigated the route to the nurse's office, hoping he could arrive before you left.

He knocked on the door, and a soft voice invited him in. Stepping inside, he found you seated in one of the chairs. Your surprise was evident as you looked at him, his hand resting on his left arm—the same one you had injured. He observed as he grabbed an ice pack before making his way over to where you were sitting.

In the row of chairs, he left a space between you, taking a seat. Your voice broke the silence, teasingly suggesting, "Starting to think you're obsessed with me." Niki couldn't help but scoff lightly as he settled in.

While you weren't exactly off the mark with your comment, admitting such a thing to you was out of the question. He waved off your words with a dismissive tone, "Me? Obsessed with you? Sure, as if."

A quiet pause settled between you both, and subtle glances were exchanged. Breaking the silence, you remarked, "Seems like you're about to join me, huh?"

He looked at you with confusion etched on his face, only to glance down at his arm and yours—both injured in the same spot. Niki couldn't help but chuckle softly, acknowledging that you were right. "Well, not quite as bad as your situation."

"Shut up." Niki's laughter filled the air, and for the first time, you found his laugh endearing—a thought you quickly brushed off. You simply smiled at his boxy grin. Has his smile always been this charming?

Niki realized he had let his guard down, his throat clearing as he subtly corrected himself. He needed to maintain the distance he had always kept between you two—at least for now.

"What are you doing here?" you started to answer, but he interrupted himself, realizing his mistake. "I shouldn't have asked, I mean, look at your arm."

There was the Niki you still had so much hate for. "If I had both arms, I'd strangle you right here."

"But you can't."

"Yeah, thanks for the reminder, idiot—as if I wasn't already aware," you retorted, rising from your seat. He wouldn't be entirely honest if he didn't admit part of him wanted you to leave. It was strange, but he always felt a certain oddness when you weren't nearby. "Can't wait for you to make jokes about my injured arm at every given opportunity."

Your words sparked an idea in him, and as you turned to leave, he was already formulating a plan — his way of getting closer to you than before.

That's exactly what he did. Every chance he got to be near you, he seized it. His motives remained a mystery – was his plan to push you further away? If so, it was definitely working, as he managed to piss you off with every passing moment. Niki couldn't forget the way you clenched your teeth and let out exasperated sighs whenever he was around. He acknowledged he was being a nuisance, but was there really any other choice?

Could he just flip a switch and suddenly be friendly? That would be too suspicious, wouldn't it? Still, there was an inner push for him to say something decent for once.

And now, here he was, sitting beside you, gazing at your plain cast. Two weeks had already gone by – why hadn't anyone doodled on it yet? He hesitated before gently tapping your arm, causing you to look at him, your expression vacant. You were ready for him to bring up your arm again, almost as if you expected him to repeat his hurtful comments again.

“What? I swear if you make fun of my arm–”

"Can I draw on your cast?" He uttered the words, seemingly without a second thought, catching you completely off guard. Why this sudden change? Could he possibly be planning to write something embarrassing? Then again, your cast did look rather dull, almost too depressing to glance at. But, you still had your doubts.

“What? What if you draw something weird–”

“Come on, I’m not that terrible of a person.”

“Literally who do you think you are–”

“I’m your classmate, loser. Think I can’t be nice for once?” His words left you stunned, and you watched him retrieve a sharpie from his bag. He uncapped it, motioning for your arm to move closer to him. However, you found yourself hesitating, which prompted him to raise an eyebrow ever so slightly. "May I?" he asked.

You didn’t know what went through his head, and yours too! Before you knew it, you were extending your arm to him, watching as he concentrated on writing and drawing on your cast. He held it gently, clearly being cautious not to cause you any discomfort. You were undeniably intrigued by his actions, even though his presence was obstructing your view – not that you cared anyways.

Soon, he finished, closing the lid to his marker. The bell rang, almost as if on cue, causing him to hurry out of the classroom. It was as if the roles swapped, he was now the one rushing out quickly. His abrupt exit left you wondering – why was he so nervous? He didn’t know either, maybe he was suddenly being nice with his rival.

As you finally glanced at your cast, your eyes fell on the words he had written: "Hope you heal quickly, loser." Right beside the message was a small drawing of Shin-chan sticking his tongue out. This time you found yourself breaking into a smile, rather than being irritated.

"So you're telling me I could have been writing about your cast this whole time?" Danielle exclaims, her eyes fixed on the doodles now on your cast. She stops, examining the drawings more closely. "Hold on, isn't that Niki's handwriting?" Without giving you a chance to explain, Danielle is already teasing you mercilessly.

You knew you couldn’t argue back with her. After all, how could you explain the decision to let your rival draw on your cast? You gazed at the doodles once more, finding yourself involuntarily breaking into a small smile. Maybe, just maybe, you'd allow him to draw on your cast again.

Yeah, you were totally out of it.

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rubra-wav · 7 months

Text

The Main Hazbin cast x taking care of sick reader

A/N : I'm going off of flu-like symptoms type sickness for this one

Cw: Sfw, gn reader, Niffty being strange asf - injection mentions

[ Part 2 ] >>

Charlie

- no. 1 caretaker of those who are sick istg (in theory at least)

- She pulls out every single thing; medicine, soup, heating bottles, electrolyte drinks, extra blankets, entertainment stuff, etc. Etc.

- She will straight up fixate upon you getting better so you can come back to group exercises without the others worrying about your contagiousness.

- The only issue with her is that she won't leave you alone like at all.

- Vaggie needs to come drag her out so she'll stop talking about all the 'work' you've missed while you've been away recovering and all the theory behind it while you're trying to rest.

- Charlie 100% gets sick as well.

- Probably will try to keep hugging you and stuff like that, disregarding your grossness because she doesn't want you to feel 'lonely'.

Vaggie

- Understandably a bit avoidant of you, but not straight up averse.

- She needs to stay in top shape to guard the hotel.

- She would wear a mask around you and come see you still in short intervals, though, bringing you some stuff you need occasionally.

- insists you stay in your room so the hotel doesn't have a sweep of whatever the hell you have. Even with you wearing a mask or something yourself, she's iffy.

- Apologises each time she has to pull Charlie out of your room so you can sleep in peace.

- Also apologises when Alastor and Niffty show up to be menaces.

- Wants you to get better probably just as much as Charlie does.

- But mostly so she'll stop having to personally come drag away her overly good-natured girlfriend and the other two.

- Probably ends up getting sick eventually because Charlie ends up getting sick.

Angel Dust

- Avoids you like the plague.

- If he has to give you stuff, he will just leave it outside, knock, then bolt.

- Would probably talk with you over phone calls a fair bit while you're bedridden.

- The absolute last thing Angel needs is to get sick in his mind. It's not sexy at all, and with the hours he works?

- Fucking hell no.

- And he doesn't want to find out if there's a kink about that.

- Sorry, not sorry, but he's staying away.

- Would probably dress in a sexy nurse outfit while he delivers stuff to your door as a joke.

- If you don't answer the door, he'll assume you are asleep and will send a selfie with whatever he's left at your door and send it to you with some kind of 'get well soon' esque message so you know it's there.

- Wants you to get better but isn't gonna actively take any kinds of risks.

Husk

- Would also not want to be around you.

- Another person with a 'I can't get sick with my job' mindset.

- Would probably just purely communicate over messages, wouldn't actually come up to your door.

- May make you special (nonalcoholic ofc) drinks to help you recover and get someone else to send them up to you - makes the excuse that he needs to be at his 'post' at all times so he can't himself.

- I hc him as secretly being really good at cooking and liking to, so makes you lots of soups and things like that.

- Annoyed because he then has to deal with other people complaining about why he isn't making food for them as well.

- He's confident you're going to get better so doesn't really care all that much.

Pentious

- He's genuinely worried.

- Both for himself, but also for you as well.

- He comes from a time where people got what you got and died very quickly with no treatment available, so he's scared shitless about it even if everyone's insisting it's not going to kill you.

- Doesn't go see you in person because he's freaked out about it, but sends his eggs to come talk to you, ask you how you are and deliver messages from him to you every day.

- Will lie and say he doesn't care at all, then probably go cry in private about it.

- When it's clear you're no longer sick, he's going to be so relieved.

- Will probably genuinely show physical affection without thinking about it.

- Glomps you via wrapping himself around you, and then acts like it never happened.

Alastor

- He's such an awful cunt the whole time.

- Always shows up to go see you but its only to laugh at you like you're the funniest thing ever.

- Will bring you stuff, but it's very obviously not goof faith.

- He cannot get sick off of normal things, so he's all up in your business the whole time he decides it's 'go bother (name)!' Time.

- If you're delirious with temperature he'll probably openly talk to you about certain secret things because if you remember and bring them up he can just gaslight you about it.

- "Oh (name), you must be misremembering because you were so unwell!"

- He is the absolute worst about you being sick.

- Vaggie is your saviour in this situation, shooing him out of your room when she realises that he's once again back.

Niffty

- Okay, Alastor is objectively the worst, but Niffty is also fucking terrible.

- She's seemingly good faith with her bs at least, though.

- Acts like the insanest, most unhinged nurse taking care of a child with you.

- Will be there trying to cram food and drink down your throat aggressively, spoon feeding you things while gripping your mouth open way too hard.

- Dresses up like a nurse as well, courtesy of Alastor of course.

- Will show up with God knows what in syringes and try to inject them into you.

- Probably will try get a blood sample from you as well for some terrifying reason.

- You probably end up tripping balls at some point because she's injected you with some unidentifiable substance.

- Also needs to be escorted out by Vaggie so you aren't straight up killed by her attempts to... help(?) You get better. The motivation is unclear.

I may also make one about reader taking care of them when they're sick too atsp 🤔

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callmeagardengnome · 20 days

Text

𐂐 table for two ‎𐂐 | LEE DONG-HYUCK

pairings ᝃᝓ server!haechan x hostess! fem!reader

genre ᝃᝓ restaurant au, romance, SLOWW BURNN lowkey angst but honestly its not that deep.

synopsis ᝃᝓ you joined the F&B industry for one reason only: paying off your college debts. romance and friends? not on your list. but unfortunately for you, the new cute annoying server at your restaurant has other plans.

w.c ᝃᝓ 5.8k

c.w ᝃᝓ hella smoking scenes in this story (its literally nct), an old ass guy harassing you. no smut but there is a pretty graphic kissing scene sooo read at your own discretion.

author’s note: make sure to like and repost!

not proofread!

other fics

working as a hostess was never a part of your plan as a new college graduate. the endless shifts, the line of karens walking through the door, having to smile and do small talk with ‘guests’, everything about the job didn’t scream you. but with your student loans dangling above your head - you had no other choice.

the restaurant you worked at, 127 Bistro & Lounge, was a cozy establishment. the warm, rustic decor made it a popular spot for dates and family dinners.

your role as the hostess was simple - greet the customer, manage reservations and ensure that the dining area was running smoothly. it was a routine you were used to, even enjoying it at times.

but that was until haechan started working there.

he was a new server - cocky, annoying, and way too good looking to be working at restaurant.

from day one, haechan made it a mission to get under your skin. whether that meant teasing you when he passed by the hostess stand or flashing you an irritatingly charming smile whenever you caught him looking your way, he just seemed to enjoy pushing your buttons.

and today was no different. as the evening rush died down, you found yourself at the hostess stand, looking through the reservations for the next day. you didn’t notice haechan approaching you until he leaned over the stand, casting a shadow on your computer.

“you know..” haechan began, a smirk forming on his face. “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile before.”

without looking up from your list, you replied, “i do smile, just not around you.”

“ouch,” he chuckled, a sound that’s becoming too familiar for your liking. “i’ll take it as a challenge.”

you finally looked up, meeting his eyes with a glare. his eyes were always sparkling with excitement, which was quite impressive since the both of you worked in the same industry.

haechan walked away with a wink and grin, finally leaving you alone. still, you couldn’t help but wonder why he kept bothering you so much.

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅

from the moment haechan started his server journey at 127 Bistro & Lounge, he found endless sources of entertainment. from the TV in the corner to talking to customers and the other servers, he managed to find things that made his shifts easier to get through. yet, nothing compared to annoying you.

you were the definition of professional - always composed, always reserved and most importantly, always resistant to his advances. this made it 100 times more fun for him to go up you.

“‘____’,” he sang out as he walked over to you, a wide grin playing on his lips. without waiting for a response, he leaned against the counter, invading your space like he’s done countless of times before.

“why do you always give mark the girl diners,” haechan sulked, looking at you with fake, sad eyes. “do you want me all to yourself?”

you sighed, keeping your eyes on the screen of your computer. “maybe it’s because mark actually focuses on his job instead of flirting with everyone around him.”

“well that’s not fun,” he said, drawing out the last part of his sentence. he moved closer to you, just enough for you to smell his cologne - the scent warm and annoyingly enticing.

“why are you making my love life difficult?” he whispered, dropping his voice down an octave as if he was sharing a secret.

you scoffed, looking up from the computer. “your nonexistent ‘love life’ is the last thing i’m interested in.”

his grin only widened, not taking your words seriously. “i don’t know.. are you sure you’re not keeping me single?”

“or maybe,” you shot back, stepping behind to create distance between the two of you. “you're single because this is the way you approach women.”

haechan chuckled, not breaking eye contact with you. “it doesn't hurt to have a little fun.”

you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “your definition of ‘fun’ is coming over and talking to me every five minutes?”

“you keep track?” he tilted his head.

“very funny,” you rolled your eyes before moving your attention back to the computer screen. “if you spent as much time working as you do hanging out at my stand, you might get somewhere.”

haechan shrugged, unfazed by your comments. “why would i do that? watching you try to ignore me is the highlight of my shift.”

you gave him an unimpressed stare as he continued, “you’d miss me if i didn’t.”

the corners of your mouth betrayed you, showing the tiniest hint of a smile - and that was all he needed to keep pushing your buttons.

just as you were about to speak up, a group of diners entered the restaurant, forcing you to return to your job. with a sigh, you greeted and guided them to an empty table at the side. haechan lingered around you for a moment, watching you work before finally moving on to his own tasks - but not without throwing you a wink your way as he walked off.

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅

days turned into weeks and haechan soon became a regular part of your routine. you grew used to his teasing and cocky attitude. you wouldn’t call him a friend, but you couldn’t deny that he made your shifts more bearable. surprisingly, he had a talent of making his conversations more interesting than annoying.

and as much as you hated to admit it, he was getting good at it.

most of the time, he kept things light and somewhat professional. you indulged in his conversations just enough to keep you sane in the tiring job. after all, you were only here to work, earn money and get out. you had no plans to form an attachment to anyone - especially at your workplace.

and you could tell haechan had a similar mindset. even though he was constantly talking to people, whether it was you, other servers or customers, you noticed how he was always the first to leave the restaurant at the end of a shift, not waiting for anyone. it was like he switched off the moment his work was done, leaving his playful personality behind.

while it did make you wonder if the version of haechan you just saw was fake, you weren’t interested in finding out. you already had enough on your plate - trying to figure out haechan’s brain was not something you wanted to add to it.

however, something changed one night.

the restaurant had been a lot busier than usual and you were completely drained. all you wanted was a few minutes of peace before heading home to collapse on your bed.

you slipped out the back door, taking in the cool air. you sat cross-legged on the pavement, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. the first puff calmed you down as you watched the smoke swirl into the night sky.

haechan was exhausted too, stuffing his apron into his bag, eager to go home. he decided to go out the back door this time, not wanting to run into any other coworkers.

but as he opened the door, he saw you - slumped against the brick walls, a cigarette held loosely between your fingers. half of your hair was out of its ponytail and your shirt was completely untucked, the harsh glow of the street light bringing attention to the darkness under your eyes.

haechan froze for a moment. he had never seen you like this - vulnerable and out of your professional appearance you wore. there was something almost.. intimate about the scene, and for the first time, he felt guilty for all the times he annoyed you.

when you finally noticed him, you looked up with tired eyes. “do you need something?” you asked, coughing slightly to clear your throat.

he hesitated, unsure of what to say. “no- i was just about to leave..” he replied, feeling like he was intruding on something he wasn’t meant to see.

you nodded, looking down at the stone pavement as you took another puff. haechan found himself staying around longer than he expected, as if he was in a trance that he couldn’t get out of.

“uh-“ you broke the silence, looking at him confused. “you want one?” you took out a pack of cigarettes, waving it at him.

haechan’s body moved automatically. he put his bag down and sat next to you, accepting the cigarette. you lighted it for him and the both of you began to smoke in a comfortable silence.

for a while, the only sounds you could hear were the crackling tobacco and the faint chatter coming from the restaurant by loitering coworkers. it was strange being this close to each other - just you and him, without any teasing or bantering.

“you know, i really like this brand,” you said, twirling the cigarette in your fingers. “it tastes less cancer-y than the rest.”

haechan chuckled softly, leaning back against the wall. “what kind of description is that?”

you shrugged, bringing the cigarette to your lips. “hey, when you’ve lived as long as i have, you’ll start to see a difference.”

“what?” he raised an eyebrow, turning his body to you. “aren’t we the same age?”

“we are?” your eyes widened, genuinely surprised by what he just said. “i just assumed we weren’t because of that personality of yours.”

haechan clutched his chest with his hand, pretending to he offended. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

you blew out a stream of smoke, shaking your head. “with how happy you are, it’s kind of hard to believe we’re dealing with the same adult problems.”

“sure,” his smirk turned into something softer, even thoughtful if you were going that far.

“…you talk a lot more outside of work,” he said after a few minutes.

“and you talk a lot less outside of work,” you flicked the ash from the tip of your cigarette, watching it fall to the ground.

haechan studied you, scanning your figure up and down. “i like it. you’re more relaxed- and kind of friendly.”

“kind of?” you repeated his words, turning to him with a raised eyebrow. “let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

he shrugged, “i’ll take what i can get.”

you shook your head, putting out your cigarette as pushed yourself off the ground. surprisingly, you felt a lot better than you did earlier, the heavy feeling in your eyelids slowly fading away.

haechan stood up with you, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “…same time tomorrow-?”

“-don’t push it.”

he laughed, and you couldn’t help but notice how it didn’t annoy you as much as it used to. “worth a shot.”

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅

“dude- are you okay?” mark asked, waving his hand in front of haechan as they stood by the drink station.

haechan blinked, remembering where he was, not realising that he’s been wiping the same spot for the past five minutes.

ever since that night, something shifted. haechan started to see you.. differently. it wasn’t about annoying you anymore - there was something else, something that he couldn’t put his finger on.

“i’m fine…” haechan replied, not sounding convincing at all, even to himself.

mark raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. “alright, if you say so. but you’ve been out of it the whole day.”

haechan brushed the comment off, moving his attention to the new table he had. he approached a table of girl diners, feeling less enthusiastic than he normally did.

“hey, can we get some recommendations?” one of the girls asked, batting her eyelashes as she flashed him a cheeky smile.

normally, he’d take the opportunity to flirt with them, maybe even ask for one of their phone numbers if he was interested. yet, he smiled politely instead and listed off a few popular dishes that he knew.

“thanks,” another girl added with a wink. “you’re really cute by the way.”

haechan nodded, giving a quick smile. “appreciate it,” before moving on to take their orders.

as he walked away, he realised that he didn’t really register the things they said, looking down at the scribbles on his notepad.

“not flirting today?” mark questioned, looking his friend’s quiet state.

“just focused on work,” haechan replied, his eyes drifting back to you at the hostess stand. you were busy with your tasks like always, and he wondered if you had noticed the change in his behaviour at all.

throughout the rest of his shift, haechan’s mind kept returning to that night, to the way you looked so different yet more real than ever. he didn’t want to admit it, but there was something attractive about that.

he found himself glancing at you more than usual, noticing how your hair fell slightly out of place or the way your fingers tapped on the stand rhythmically when you were talking to a customer - there was a something to you, a soft beauty that was easy to overlook if you weren’t paying attention.

but haechan was paying attention now, more than he ever did before.

he doesn’t remember the last time he packed his bag this quickly, but he dashed out of the restaurant, trying to leave all thoughts of the restaurant behind - only to be replaced by an image of you.

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅

of course, you noticed a change.

haechan’s visits to your hostess stand became less frequent, and his teasing comments were nonexistent.

at first, you didn’t think much if it - maybe he was finally focusing on his job, something you’ve been asking him to do for way longer than you should have. but as the days passed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was.. off.

you’d catch him glancing in your direction every now and then, but when your eyes met, he’d quickly turn away and wipe a random counter nearby. it was strange to see him so distant. you thought about bringing it up to him, but every time you tried, something else required your attention.

the restaurant was busier than ever, especially during the holiday season - barely leaving you with moments to catch a breath, let alone talk to haechan.

a few days later, you were at the hostess stand, answering the phone and jotting down details into the computer when a man approached the stand.

he was older, probably in his sixties, and dressed in a suit that was a little too expensive for a place like your restaurant. you didn’t think much of it, greeting him with your usual, professional work voice.

“good evening, welcome to 127 Bistro & Lounge. how can i help you?”

the man’s eyes raked over you in a way that made your skin crawl. he then leaned in, his voice low and gruff. “i was hoping that you could help me with something other than a table,” he said, his breath reeking with alcohol.

you straightened your posture. “i’m afraid i can only help you with seating arrangements, sir. if you’ll follow me, i’ll show you to a table.”

instead of moving away, the man reached out and grabbed your wrist harshly, pulling you closer to him. “come on, sweetheart, let’s skip the formalities.. why not you show me something else?”

you could hear your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to snatch your wrist away, only for his grip to tighten further. but before you could react, you heard a familiar voice.

“is there a problem here?”

haechan stepped up beside you, glaring at the man that made him stumble on his words.

“it’s none of your business, kid,” the man slurred, using his other hand to push haechan back. “we- we’re about to have some f- fun,” he hiccuped.

haechan stood in front of you, his hands shielding you from the old man. “i suggest you leave before the police come.”

the man snorted, not believing haechan’s words for a second. he tried to drag you towards him, before haechan grabbed his arm and threw it to the side, stopping him in his tracks. you stumbled back slightly, but haechan was ready to catch you, his hand placed securely on your back.

“i’m calling the police,” haechan said, pulling out his phone. the man finally realised the situation he was in, muttering something under his breath as he tripped out of the restaurant.

as soon as he was gone, haechan turned to you, scanning your face for any injuries. “are you okay?”

you nodded, your heart still racing from what just happened. “i think so.. thanks for that.”

he gave you a small, reassuring smile. “don’t mention it.”

for a moment, the two of you stood in silence. you just realised that this was the first proper conversation with haechan you had in days, and it wasn’t about something light like how you were used to.

“are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again, concern written all over his face.

“i’m sure,” you answered, trying your best to sound confident. “thank you, really.”

he nodded, but his eyes still lingered on you, wanting to make sure you weren’t hurt. “if you need anything.. you know where to find me.”

you raised an eyebrow, surprised by his offer. “same goes for you.”

haechan’s smile came back, patting you gently on the shoulder before turning away. but as he was went, something made you call out after him.

“smoke later?” the words came out of your mouth more like a statement than a question.

haechan paused, turning back to you, his iconic smirk returning, “i thought you’d never ask.”

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅

“are you okay?”

haechan looked up from his cigarette, blinking in surprise as he heard your question. “where is this coming from..?”

“come on,” you snorted. “you haven’t been yourself lately.. is something going on at home?”

he shook his head, taking a deep puff from the cigarette, exhaling it as if it would carry away all of his thoughts. “just trying to focus on work,” he replied, answering you like how he did with his other coworkers.

“i’m not stupid,” you scoffed, shifting closer to haechan. “i can tell when something’s wrong. you’ve barely annoyed me all week, which is a new record for you.”

a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “didn’t realise you missed me that much.”

you rolled your eyes. “that’s not the point. i’m just asking because.. well, i don’t know- i’ve never seen you like this before.”

haechan’s eyes softened, putting out his cigarette on the ground. “…it’s nothing big, i’m just thinking about stuff.”

“stuff?” you repeated.

“yeah, stuff,” he said, avoiding eye contact with you, looking down at the pavement, drawing circles on it.

you tilted your head slightly - your curiosity getting to the better of you. you turned your body completely to face him, genuinely interested in what he would say. “want to share?”

“i-“ he looked up at you, searching your eyes. “it’s just that.. i used to see this job as a way to pass time, you know? but lately.. i guess i’ve been thinking about what i want.”

your eyes widened in surprise, not expecting him to actually tell you. “and what do you want?”

haechan hesitated, then shrugged. “i’m not sure yet, but i’ll let you know when i find out.”

you nodded, turning back to the street in front of you. the both of you listened to the sound of crickets chirping and the occasional car speeding by traffic lights that they were definitely not supposed to.

you played with your lighter, flicking the wheel and watched as the flame appeared after many tries. “thanks again for earlier by the way, you really saved my ass.”

“no problem, i just wish the guy got arrested, though.”

you widened your eyes as you readjusted your sitting position. “wait- you actually called the police? i thought that was just a scare tactic.”

“i mean- i was going to,” he replied, dusting specks of ash of off his pants. “who wouldn’t? the guy was weird and i wanted to help you… but unfortunately, i’m not built like a superhero.”

“what are you talking about?” you tilted your head, taking a closer look at him as you studied his figure, taking note of his biceps and arms. “you’re pretty toned.”

haechan’s cheeks flushed slightly as he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “thanks..”

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅

from that day forward, haechan returned to his routine of going to your hostess stand every time he got the chance, spewing out random things that was on his mind.

you found yourself paying more attention to him during your shifts, noticing the little details about him - like the way his eyes lit up whenever he saw you, or how he would always help the other servers even if he was busy. it wasn’t like he suddenly became less annoying, but you found his antics more.. endearing.

as the days grew colder, christmas decorations started to pop up around the restaurant. you hadn’t planned on getting anyone gifts this year - your student loans were enough of a financial burden - but your mind couldn’t stop drifting back to haechan and how he saved you. maybe it’s time to do something different.

you decided to approach mark during his break. “hey, what does haechan like?”

mark looked up from his phone, eyebrows raised. “why? are you planning on getting him a gift?”

“just curious.”

mark chuckled, “he’s really into video games. he’s been saving up for this one game for weeks, but he had to spend the money on other stuff.”

“do you know what it is?” you asked.

“yeah.. he’s been talking about it for a while,” mark replied, then paused, giving you a knowing look. “you’re going to get it for him, aren’t you?”

you shrugged, not wanting to admit that you already made your mind up. “maybe. it’s just a small thing.”

mark laughed and shook his head. “i don’t think he’ll see it that way. but hey, if you’re really going to do it, he’d really appreciate it.”

that night, you went home and checked your bank account. the number staring back at you wasn’t promising, but you knew you could make it work. you had been smart with your spending, and while the game would probably set you back a bit, it wouldn’t completely break you.

so you placed the order.

when christmas eve finally rolled around, the restaurant buzzed with holiday spirit. the staff exchanged gifts, and you already received a couple of things from your coworkers - a pair of cozy socks, some snacks and even a box of chocolates from your boss.

haechan didn’t mention anything about presents, so you decided to wait until the end of your shift to give it to him.

as the night died down and the last of the customers left, you grabbed your neatly wrapped package from your locker and made your way to where haechan was packing his bag.

“hey,” you walked over to him, catching his attention.

“yo-“ he looked up, surprised to see you holding something. “what’s that?”

you held out the gift, feeling your nerves bubble up in your chest. “just something small. merry christmas, haechan.”

haechan’s eyes widened as he took the package from your hands. he wasn’t expecting gifts from anyone, especially you. “you didn’t have to,” he said, but there was a hint of excitement in his voice.

“open it,” you insisted, watching him tear off the wrapping paper.

when he finally saw what was inside, his jaw dropped. “no way... how did you-“

“-mark mentioned you were saving up for it,” you shrugged, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. “so i figured.. why not?”

for at least a minute, haechan stared at the game, completely stunned. he then looked at you, his face softer than you’ve ever seen. “thank you,” he said, pulling you into a tight hug. “seriously, this is… i don’t know what to say.”

you felt a warmth spread through you, a warmth that had nothing to do with the overwhelming amount of holiday lights that were surrounding you. “no problem, just make sure to enjoy it.”

as you were about to leave, haechan called out to you, “wait-“

you turned around, confused. but that was when you saw him reach into his own bag, pulling out a small box wrapped in gold paper.

“i actually got you something too,” he admitted, running his fingers through his hair awkwardly. “i noticed your lighter wasn’t working well, so uh- here.”

you took the box from him, feeling your heart beating a little faster than before. unwrapping it, you found a new, sleek lighter and a pack of your favourite cigarettes.

“i wasn’t sure on what to get you,” haechan spoke as he watched you inspecting the gift in awe, “but i remembered that those tasted less ‘cancer-y’.. so i decided to get them for you.”

“these are pretty hard to find..” you breathed out, running your fingers over the cardboard. “how did you get this?”

“i spent an embarrassing amount of time looking for them,” he fidgeted with the sleeves of his shirt. “but it’s worth it.”

you looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “you’re fuelling my addiction,” you joked.

“hey- you’re fuelling mine too,” he said, waving your present in his hand.

the two of you stood there, the moment truly setting in. you weren’t sure what came over you, but for the first time in a while, you felt genuinely happy. a smile slowly spread across your face, a real one this time.

haechan’s breath hitched, and he stared at you like he’s never seen you before. “you have a really pretty smile,” he said quietly, trying not to ruin the moment.

you felt a blush creeping up on your cheeks when you heard his words. “shut up,” you said softly, feeling a little shy.

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅

“ugh, what’s the point of a new years party?” haechan groaned as he approached your stand. “it’s just awkwardly talking to people you meet at work.”

you typed in details into your computer, not bothering to look up at him. “i thought you liked people?”

“yeah, but this is different,” he said, moving closer to you. “i’m not in the mood for small talk.”

you glanced up at him, noticing how stressed haechan looked about going to the party. “i mean- it’s just a few hours. plus, free food and drinks, right?”

“you’re just there to get drunk,” haechan said, a grin forming on his lips.

“maybe,” you shrugged. “but it’s not a bad thing to spend time with everyone outside of work. you can even hang out with mark.”

haechan nodded slowly, straightening his posture. “…are you going?”

“yep,” you replied, popping the letter ‘p’ at the end of your sentence.

“cool,” he said, patting the edge of your stand. “then i’m going too.”

the night of the party finally arrived, your boss inviting all the staff to his apartment, fully decorated with lights and banners. you found yourself enjoying the festive atmosphere, the clinking of glasses and the laughter filling the room. haechan, however, seemed a little out of his element, but he hid his discomfort behind his usual self.

he went through many conversations, but his eyes kept returning to you. there was something different about seeing you here, dressed casually, your hair draping softly over your shoulders as you laughed at something one of your coworkers said. it was the first time he could actually take in how pretty - really pretty, you were, making his heart skip a beat.

it wasn’t just your appearance, it was the way you carried yourself, you seemed less serious and more.. real.

as the night went on, a playlist of softer, slower songs began to play in the background. you ended up on the couch, sipping your drink as haechan made his way over to you.

he could see the soft light of fairy lights twinkling in your eyes as he sat next to you. “having fun?” he asked.

“mhm, especially with this drink,” you nodded as you swirled your glass. you noticed that your lip gloss transferred, making you pull out your phone and check yourself out. “aw man, my makeup is all weird.”

“really?” he tilted his head as he looked at your face. “i don’t see any problems.”

“sure, but i still need to fix it,” you said, glancing around the apartment. “do you know where the bathroom is?”

haechan led you down the hallway, the noise from the party slowly fading away. he held the door for you, the creaking sound making you jump slightly. “you can go, i’ll wait out here.”

you raised an eyebrow as you stepped into the bathroom. “are you sure? i’m only touching up my makeup.. you can come in too, you know?”

haechan grinned, walking in with you. “sure, whatever you say.”

the small space was softly lit, casting a warm glow on the tiled walls. you leaned against the sink, rummaging your bag for your eyeliner as haechan sat himself on the edge of the bathtub, watching you intently.

you reapplied your eyeliner with ease, the movements becoming second nature by now. “you’re really good at that,” haechan said, breaking the silence.

you glanced at him through the mirror, a small smile tugging on your lips. “thanks, i practice.”

next, you reached for your candy-flavoured lipgloss, applying it carefully. the gloss shimmered under the soft lighting, making your lips even more inviting than ever.

haechan looked at you through the mirror, his eyes not leaving your reflection as he muttered, “you look good.”

you paused, turning to him with your lip gloss in hand. in that moment, you let yourself really look at him too - his slightly messy hair, the way his shirt hugged his frame and how his dark, shiny eyes stared at you. you always knew that haechan was good-looking, but tonight there was something more, something that made it hard to look away.

“you look good too,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks warm slightly. you turned back to the mirror in embarrassment, capping up your lip gloss and setting it back into your bag, ignoring the flutter in your chest.

“…should we head back out?” you suggested.

haechan took in a deep breath, shaking his head. “i don’t know..”

you rubbed your lips together, spreading the gloss before asking, “wanna get out of here?”

“really?” he exclaimed, his eyes wide. “i thought you wanted to stay..?”

“nah, i don’t give a shit about anyone here,” you replied with a smirk. “and i know that you definitely want to leave.” you went over to the door and left with haechan following behind you eagerly.

the both of you slipped through the living room, reaching the front door. that was when you noticed a ‘TAKE ONE’ sign over a bouquet of flowers - a gift from your boss that was meant for each employee.

without thinking, you grabbed a few flowers, cradling them in your arms. haechan kept quiet, simply watching you with an amused smile.

“let’s go,” you said softly.

the both of you stepped out into the cool, late night air. you stepped over the puddles formed from a downpour earlier, even turning it into a game with haechan.

the distant sounds of new year’s celebration played in the background as the two of you roamed through the streets. haechan walked close to you, his arm brushing against yours, making your heart race.

it wasn’t long before fireworks set off loudly, marking the arrival of midnight. the both of you stopped in your tracks, turning to each other with a shocked face.

“happy new year,” he said, smiling softly.

you chuckled, “happy new year, haechan.” you could see the reflection of fireworks in his eyes as he moved closer to you. you opened your mouth to say something, but the words got caught in your throat.

before you could find them, he leaned in closer, his gaze dropping to your lips. “haechan?” you whispered out, the fireworks casting flashes of coloured light on his face.

he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, studying your face. “..i really want to kiss you,” he sighed, his eyes looking guilty. “but i know you don’t even like me like that-“

“-i do.”

haechan froze, the thumping in his chest becoming louder than the fireworks in the sky. “you do..?” he repeated, not believing what he just heard.

you nodded, feeling your heart race under his stare. “do you like me?” you tilted head, getting more nervous by the second.

haechan closed the distance between the two of you, “more than you can imagine.”

his lips crashed into yours, filled with pent-up emotions and words that were left unspoken. your hands made their way to his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through his shirt as his hands cupped your face, holding you close.

the sweet taste of your lip gloss only added more fuel to the fire. the kiss deepened quickly, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you closer. the intensity of his grip shocked your for a moment, but you welcomed it, leaning into him.

you soon found your back hitting the wall of the nearest building - the impact making you gasp, dropping your bouquet of flowers into a puddle of water. you broke away for a second, “wait, my flowers-“

“-i’ll get you new ones tomorrow,” haechan’s words rushed out before your lips met again, more messy and desperate than before. his body pressed against yours, and you could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest.

“you’re amazing,” he murmured against your lips, sending shivers down your spine.

you could only nod, your words replaced by the overwhelming need to feel him again. in response, his hands held your sides, his touch almost possessive. your lips met again, with the smell of his cologne overwhelming your senses.

by the time you pulled back, the both of you were breathless, your chests heaving as you tried to catch your breaths.

haechan looked at you with a soft smile, his gaze lingering on your face, trying to memorise every detail. “i didn’t expect to tonight to turn out like this,” he said. “but i’m glad it did.”

you brushed your fingers through his hair, just now realising how smooth it was. “me too,” you replied.

he gave you a grin. “i’ll make sure to get you new flowers,” he said, making you laugh softly. “i’ll get you better ones.”

“i don’t care about the flowers,” you chuckled, reaching for his hand. “i’d rather have you tonight.”

haechan’s smile widened, unable to stop himself from giving you peck on the cheek. “wanna head back to my place?”

any and all feedback appreciated <3

179 notes · View notes

wovenintosilk · 1 year

Text

Stubborn

Received a request through a reblog for something related to Miguel's fangs. It's not exactly focused on them but they're definitely part of it!

No Content Warnings

GN!Reader

Word Count: 1100

━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━

“Get your fingers away from my mouth. Are you a child?”

You pouted and withdrew your hand, thwarted in your attempts to sneakily lift the corner of your boyfriend’s lip. “I want to see them,” you defended. “They’re so nice to look.”

“If you’re that bored, I will find you something more productive to do,” he reminded you and twisted his face further from your reach. “I’m not in the habit of allowing people to lounge around my workspace for the fun of it.”

“Can my something productive be getting you to smile?”

“Absolutely not.”

You sighed and sank further into your chair, head tilted back to the ceiling you stared at far too much. “You said you would be finished with this by now.”

“It was a possibility but it required far more attention than I expected. It won’t be much longer.”

Miguel’s desire to be busy never surprised you. From the day you’d met him to the day you kissed him for the first time, you always understood why he obsessed in the way he did. It didn’t hurt you but you worried – more about his own health than anything else.

When was the last time he’d even eaten?

“You know, I actually do have a job to get done,” you said. “I’ll be back soon. Try not to get too big of a headache by scowling at that screen.”

“I know.”

The grumbled words didn’t help your concerns. You cast a glance over your shoulder in his direction. The harsh artificial lighting of his office highlighted how he hunched over his work, shone off his suit in a piercing way.

It really couldn’t be good for him to stand like that.

Your first stop took you over an hour to reach and you still didn’t doubt for one second that Miguel would still be working on your return. Though he cared little about food quality lately, you insisted on getting him something healthy and what you knew he would enjoy.

If it took you ages to find, you didn’t mind too much. You knew it wouldn’t impact on your plans going forward.

Around the side of Miguel’s office, a few wires connected just behind a broken section of the wall. You had to hold your breath to squeeze half into it in order to reach them.

“This is a very bad idea.”

You jumped, hit your head against the wall in your startle, and groaned in the unexpected pain. Lyla watched with a humoured smirk from where she’d appeared, projected out of your personal watch.

“It’ll be fine,” you said. “He won’t even know it was me.”

“He will,” she corrected. “But that’s not what I’m worried about. I know you can handle Miguel yourself but I think you shouldn’t play with electricity.”

“When you asked me to get him to take a break, you should have known I’d need to resort to some extreme measures.”

She sighed and waved a hand for you to continue. You squeezed your way further in so you could reach the wire that fed his office and a few of the surrounding halls. Hobie showed you it wouldn’t turn off the rest of the complex when he did it last time as a joke.

“I’ve already backed up everything he’s working on. If he throws you out, I take no responsibility for it.”

You grinned cut the wire. Everything plummeted into darkness around you, computers shut off loudly and the ever-present hum stopped. You grinned proudly and dropped your cutter back into its space before you headed to the office.

You realised one of the main problems when you walked through the doors and spotted him on his platform. The one that wouldn’t move now without electricity.

“Wow,” you said loudly. “Can you believe the timing of this?”

He turned slowly. The silence stretched thickly between you, your smile a match for his glare. Lyla was right, he knew exactly what had happened.

“Either you have to come down here or find a way to get me up there,” you called. “Because I can’t reach you otherwise.”

You held up the food right as a bright web attached to your chest. It pulled you forward and lifted you into the air as though you weighed nothing. It might not be the first time it had happened to you but you’d never really get used to the sensation of being dragged around.

He steadied you when you landed, his hand rested on your arm until you gained your balance back. His lip curled up ever so slightly as he waited.

“I brought food,” you said and sat down in your chair.

“What did you do?”

“Went a ridiculous distance to get this for you,” you noted. “Do you know how far this place is? And then I got back and the power disappeared. Had to walk here in the dark.”

“Do you know how busy I was? How much you may have gotten lost?”

“I’m sure Lyla managed to get it saved. You can take a break while she finds the fault.”

He loomed above you, leaned down and opened his mouth ever so slightly. Finally, you had an opportunity to see those massive fangs you loved so much. You loved his habit of using them to intimidate. He didn’t even do it purposefully.

“You can’t really be blaming me for the electricity,” you said.

“I’m not stupid.”

You finally placed the packet of food aside, reached up and grabbed the front of his suit so you could pull him closer. You used your free hand to cup his jaw, ran your thumb over his bottom lip. Those fangs really were beautiful. What you’d give to have them showing more often…

“I need you to take a break,” you said. “It might take a while to fix. You may as well give your body a small rest, okay?”

Before you let him go, you pressed a small kiss to the underside of his jaw. He leaned into the touch just enough to let you know you’d been somewhat forgiven for your meddling.

He took the food from you, muttered something about stubbornness, and listened as you spoke about everything you’d been waiting to tell him.

#across the spider verse x reader #atsv x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara

3K notes · View notes

won4kiss · 4 months

Text

⋆ ｡⋆୨୧˚— BACK TO ME

𝜗𝜚 ༘⋆ ⋆˙pairing. ex bsf! jake sim x fem! reader synopsis. after your best friend whom you were in love with suddenly moves to korea without telling you until the day before, comes back years later.. what will happen now? genre. angst ,, fluff ,, wc. 4100. 𝐥u𝐧a notes ⋆.˚ this actually took YEARS. 🫧 — 𝓵𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗋𝔂

if you enjoyed reading, please like & reblog !! <3

The golden sun dipped low over Bondi Beach, casting long shadows on the sand and tinting the waves with a fiery aqua glow. The air was warm, the kind of warmth that enveloped you like a comforting embrace.

But the atmosphere between you and Jake Sim was anything but comforting.

You and Jake had been inseparable since you were basically in diapers. Growing up in Sydney, the two of you had shared everything—from ice cream cones on intense hot summer days to whispered secrets under the stars.

You were best friends, confidants, each other's anchors. But that evening, standing on the beach where you'd shared so many memories through out your whole life, everything changed.

"I can't believe you did this, Jake!" you shouted, your voice breaking with emotion. The argument had been building for days, fueled by misunderstandings and unspoken feelings.

Jake's eyes, usually so bright and full of life, were clouded with hurt, anger, and frustration. "And I can't believe you won't even try to see my side of things!"

The cause of the argument was trivial in hindsight, a misunderstanding about your future plans after high school. Jake had been accepted into a prestigious university in Seoul, South Korea, and he'd decided to go without discussing it with you. It felt like a betrayal, like he was abandoning everything you had built together.

"I thought we were in this together," you said, your voice trembling. "You didn't even tell me you were applying Jake, I could’ve-“

Jake ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of exasperation you'd seen countless times. "I didn't think it mattered. I didn't want to hold you back, and I thought you'd be happy for me, and I know for a fact you don’t wanna go to Seoul.”

"Happy?" you echoed, the word tasting bitter in your mouth. "How can I be happy when you're leaving me behind?"

“And how do you know I wouldn’t go for you?” you say to yourself in the back of your mind.

The argument ended with harsh words and tears. Jake walked away, leaving you standing on the beach, your heart shattered. The next day, he was gone. Without a proper goodbye, Jake had moved to Korea, and you were left to pick up the pieces of your broken heart.

The years that followed were a blur of university life, part-time jobs, and attempts to move on. You threw yourself into your studies at the University of Sydney, trying to forget the boy who had once meant everything to you, and than had thrown you away like trash. You didn't follow Jake's life in Korea, it was too painful to see his success and wonder if he ever thought about you, while you thought about him endlessly. It was quite embarrassing, really.

Occasionally, you heard whispers of his achievements from other classmates who kept in touch with him. “Jake Sim had become a top student!” “Jake Sim is the heart throb of Seoul university!” He was living a life that seemed worlds away from yours.

But no amount of distance could erase the memories of your friendship. Late at night, when the world was quiet, and you left alone with your thoughts, you found yourself thinking about him—his laugh, his smile, the way he used to look at you like you were everything to him, The pain was a dull ache that never fully went away.

It was your third year at university, and life had settled into a comfortable routine. You had a close group of great friends, a part-time job at a local café, and a busy-busy course load that kept you busy. You had learned to live with the void Jake had left behind, even if it still hurt tremendously sometimes.

One crisp Summer morning, you walked into your first lecture of the semester, juggling a coffee cup and a stack of textbooks. The lecture hall was buzzing with chatter, but one voice stood out among the rest— your face falling at a voice you hadn't heard in years.

You froze, your heart pounding in your chest. Slowly, you turned to see him. Jake Sim. He was standing at the front of the lecture hall, talking to the professor. He looked older, more mature, but there was no mistaking those familiar features you had adored so much.

Jake's eyes met yours across the room, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. You could see the shock and recognition in his eyes, mirroring your own. The memories came flooding back, overwhelming you with a rush of emotions.

Before you could process what was happening, the professor began the lecture, and you had no choice but to settle down and find a seat. Your mind was racing with thoughts, unable to focus on the words being spoken. Jake was back. After all these years, he was here, back in the blazing Sydney sun at your university.

After the lecture, you hurried out of the hall, your thoughts in turmoil. You needed to clear your head, to understand what this meant, why he was back. But as you stepped outside, you felt a familiar warm touch on your arm.

"Wait," Jake's voice was soft, hesitant.

You turned to face him, your heart in your throat. Struggling to find words. "Jake..."

"I didn't know you'd be here," he said, his eyes searching yours. "I transferred here for a semester abroad. I didn't know you were still in Sydney."

There were so many things you wanted to say, so many questions you had. “You hadn’t asked”But the words caught in your throat, and all you could manage was a nod.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "For everything."

You felt a pang in your heart, he had broken you completely, and left the next day. What were you supposed to say? He was all you had known your entire life, and suddenly you had to learn how to breathe without him.

"I was so hurt, Jake," you finally said, your voice shaking. "You left without even saying goodbye, without even asking me what I wanted.”

He looked down, guilt, shame, and regret written all over his face. "I know. I was scared, stupid and young. I didn't know how to face you after what happened."

There was a long silence as you both stood there, the weight of the past pressing down on you. Finally, you took a deep breath. "Maybe we can talk? Later? There's a lot we need to say, and I’m kinda busy right now…”

Jake nodded, a flicker of hope in his eyes. "I'd like that so much. Can we meet at the café you used to work at? Tomorrow afternoon? If your free of course-“

You quickly cut Jake’s rambling off, knowing it was a habit of his when he was extremely anxious and nervous, and anxiety clouding over him.”

"Okay," you agreed, your heart pounding with an unfamiliar feeling, the feeling you felt all too many years ago when you were with Jake.

"Tomorrow."

The next day, you arrived at the café early, your nerves getting the best of you. You found a quiet corner and sat down, your thoughts a mix of anticipation and anxiety. When Jake walked in, your heart skipped a beat.

He spotted you and made his way over, a gentle smile on his lips. "Hey."

"Hi,” you replied, trying to steady your breathing.

Jake sat down across from you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

"I'm sorry," he said again, breaking the silence. "I know I hurt you, and I regret how I handled everything."

You looked at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me you were applying to universities in Korea?"

Jake sighed, running a hand through his hair and biting his lip, you found yourself with a soft smile seeing he still had his familiar habits.

“I didn't want to put any pressure on you. I thought it would be easier if I just made the decision on my own. But I was wrong. I should have talked to you about it."

The anger and hurt that had been simmering inside you for years bubbled to the surface. "You were my best friend, Jake. I thought we shared everything. But you just left without a word, and it felt like I didn't matter to you."

"You did matter," he said urgently. "You still do. I was scared, and I made a mistake. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I see now that I hurt you more than I ever imagined, and I never wanted that, I never ever wanted to cause you pain.”

The raw honesty in his voice cut through your anger, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. "I missed you," you admitted, your voice barely above a soft whisper.

Jake reached across the table, taking your hand in his. The touch was gentle, familiar, and it sent a shiver down your spine. "I missed you too. Every day."

And you found yourselves smiling at each other, with that familiar look you had all those years in your eyes.

The conversation that followed was filled with tears and laughter, apologies and forgiveness. You talked about the past you had shared, about the dreams and the paths your lives had taken. The pain of the separation was still there, but so was the bond and understanding that had once made you inseparable.

Over the next few weeks, you and Jake spent more time together, slowly rebuilding the friendship you had lost. There were awkward moments and difficult moments and conversations, but there were also moments of genuine connection and understanding.

One evening, as you walked along the beach, the sky painted in hues of orange and pink, Jake stopped and turned to you. "Can we start over? As friends, and maybe... something more?"

You looked into his eyes, seeing the hope and vulnerability there. The years of hurt and distance had left their mark, but you knew that you still cared for him deeply. "I'd like that," you said, a small smile tugging at your lips. "But we need to take it slow. There's still a lot to work through."

Jake nodded, a look of determination in his eyes. "I'll do whatever it takes. I just want to be in your life again."

The months that followed were a journey of healing and rediscovery. You and Jake spent countless hours talking, laughing, and reminiscing about the past. The more time you spent together, the more you realized how much you had missed having him in your life.

Your friends noticed the change in you, the way your eyes lit up when you talked about Jake, the way you smiled more often. They were happy to see you reconnecting with someone who had once been such an important part of your life.

One evening, as you sat on the beach watching the waves crash against each other, Jake turned to you with a serious expression. "There's something I need to tell you."

Your heart skipped a beat, worried about what he might say. "What is it?"

"I've been offered a permanent position in Sydney," he said, his voice steady. "It means I can stay here, with you."

The relief that washed over you was overwhelming. You threw your arms around Jake, laughing with tears brimming in your eyes, burying your face in his shoulder. The tears came unbidden, a mixture of happiness and the release of long-held fears. Jake's arms tightened around you, holding you close.

"Hey, it's okay," he murmured, his voice soothing you as he mumbled onto your bare skin. "I'm not going anywhere this time, not without you."

You pulled back slightly, looking up into his eyes. "I was so scared you'd leave me again."

Jake brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle. "I promise, I'm here to stay. Not leaving you ever again love."

As you gazed into his eyes, you felt a sense of peace that had been missing for so long. The beach, the stars, the gentle sound of the waves—it all felt like the perfect backdrop for this new chapter in your lives, together.

Over the next few months, you and Jake focused on rebuilding your relationship, strengthening it and laying the foundation for something stronger and more resilient than before. You spent time together, sharing stories of the years you had spent apart, learning about each other's lives all over again.

There were still moments of pain and doubt, shadows of the past that occasionally surfaced. But each time, you faced them together, talking through your fears and doubts. It was a process of healing, of learning to trust each other fully once more.

Jake's presence in your life brought a renewed sense of joy and purpose. You found yourself looking forward to the future with him by your side. You found yourself happier, youthful again.

It was a warm summer evening when you and Jake decided to have a picnic on the beach. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the sand and sea. You spread out a blanket, laughing as you struggled to keep it from blowing away in the gentle flowing breeze.

As you sat down, Jake handed you a sandwich he'd made. "I hope you like it," he said, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

You took a bite, savoring the familiar taste. "It's perfect," you said, smiling at him. "Just like old times."

Jake smiled back, a look of relief and admiration on his face. "I'm glad."

After you finished eating, you lay back on the blanket, gazing up at the twinkling stars. Jake lay beside you, his hand brushing against yours. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, a reminder of the unspoken feelings that had been building between you, the feelings all those years ago resurfacing.

"Do you remember when we used to stargaze here?" Jake mumbled softly.

"Of course," you replied, turning to look at him. "We'd make up stories about the constellations and dream about the future."

Jake's eyes were filled with a mix of nostalgia and longing. "I missed those moments, more than you could ever imagine.”

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. "Me too, Jakey.”

For a moment, there was only the sound of the waves and the distant hum of the city. Then, Jake leaned in, his gaze locked on yours. Your heart raced as he drew closer, his breath warm against your skin.

When his lips finally met yours, it felt so right, like all those years apart were worth it as it bought you to this very moment.

The kiss was gentle at first, a tentative exploration of emotions long held back. But as you responded, the intensity grew, a shared hunger for the connection you'd both been craving.

The world around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in each other's arms. When you finally pulled away, breathless and smiling at eachother, with love in both your eyes, you knew that this was just the beginning.

With your relationship now onto the next step, and official, you and Jake faced new challenges. Balancing your studies, part-time jobs, and spending time together required constant planning and communication. There were moments of frustration and exhaustion, from being overworked and extreme tired, but you both pulled through together, because at the end of the day being in each other’s warm embrace was all worth it.

One evening, as you sat in your apartment studying for exams, Jake surprised you with a visit. He brought takeout from your favorite restaurant, knowing you'd been too busy to cook.

"Thought you could use a break," he said, setting the bags on the table.

You smiled, feeling a surge of affection for him. "You're a lifesaver."

As you ate together, you talked about your hopes and dreams, about the future you wanted to build together. The conversations were filled with laughter and occasional serious words, but through it all, there was a sense of partnership and mutual support.

Life was not without its storms, and one particularly dark evening, an old wound reopened. You had been out with friends, and when you returned to your apartment, you found Jake waiting for you, a troubled look on his face.

"What's wrong?" you asked, concerned.

Jake hesitated, then handed you his phone. "I got a message from someone in Korea. They want me to come back for a research project. It’s a great opportunity, but..."

Your heart sank. The fear of losing him again resurfaced, the old scars aching. "But you'd have to leave Sydney," you finished for him, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jake nodded, looking torn. "I don't want to go if it means losing you again. But it's a chance to work on something I'm passionate about."

You felt a mix of emotions—pride for his achievements, fear of being abandoned again, and a deep love that made you want the best for him.

"Jake, I can't ask you to give up your dreams. But I also can't go through losing you again."

You said as you felt your heart breaking.

Jake took your hands, his eyes pleading. "We'll find a way, We can make it work long distance. I won't make the same mistakes. I promise, please baby.” He says with eyes brimming with shiny tears.

Tears filled your eyes as you considered his words. "I just don't want to be hurt again, I can’t be hurt again Jake..”

Jake pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. "Neither can I, We'll figure it out together, mm?”

The weeks that followed were a test of your determination to each other. You discussed every detail of how to maintain your relationship while he was in Korea. The planning was meticulous—scheduling video calls, visits, and ways to stay connected despite the distance.

The night before Jake was set to leave, you both stood on the beach, the moon casting a silvery glow on the waves. The familiar setting brought back memories of your first kiss, and the promises you had made to each other.

"Are you sure about this?" Jake asked, his voice filled with uncertainty.

You nodded, taking his hand. "Yes. We'll make it work. I believe in us, believe in you.” You say caressing the back of his neck as he wrapped his arms around you.

Jake's eyes were filled with emotion as he leaned in to kiss you. The kiss was filled with both longing and desperation, a promise to hold on to each other no matter what.

The months apart were challenging, but you and Jake found ways to keep the spark alive. Daily messages, video calls, and surprise care packages became your lifelines. You shared your successes and struggles, celebrated milestones, and comforted each other through the hard times.

There were moments of doubt, nights when the distance felt unbearable. But each time, you reminded yourselves of the love you shared and the future you were building together, the future that was so close in reach.

One evening, as you sat on your balcony, Jake called you with exciting news. "I got a grant for my research! It's going to make a big difference."

You smiled, proud of him. "That's amazing, Jake. I'm so happy for you, so proud baby.”

Jake's voice was filled with hope. "It also means I can come back to Sydney sooner than planned. Just a few more months, and I'll be home."

The news filled you with a renewed sense of determination, and happiness. "I can't wait."

The day Jake returned to Sydney was one of the happiest of your life. You stood at the airport, your heart racing as you scanned the crowd for his familiar face. When you finally saw him, it felt like the world had shifted back into place.

You ran to him, tears of joy streaming down your face. Jake dropped his bags and caught you in his arms, lifting you off the ground as he kissed you deeply.

"I'm home!” he shouted against your lips, as people gave him looks as if he was a crazy man- and in this situation.. he kinda was.

"Welcome home, Jakey.” you replied, your heart overflowing with love and happiness.

With Jake back in Sydney, you both focused on building your future together. You found a small apartment, filled it with memories and dreams, signs of your love and started planning the next steps of your lives.

Your relationship was stronger than ever, forged through the trials and triumphs you had faced. You supported each other's ambitions, celebrated each other's successes, and provided comfort during the tough times.

One evening, as you sat on the beach watching the sunset, Jake turned to you with a serious expression.

"There's something I want to ask you."

You looked at him, curious. "What is it?"

Jake took a deep breath, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

Shock flooding through your body as tears filled your eyes as you realized what he was asking. "Yes," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "Yes, I'll marry you."

Jake slipped the ring onto your finger, and you kissed jake gently with love and softness, the sunset casting a golden glow on your new beginning.

The years that followed were filled with love and adventure. You and Jake faced life's challenges together, always supporting each other and never forgetting the journey that had brought you to this point.

“Daddy, please tell me another bedtime story!” Your six year-old daughter pleaded as Jake looked at you with permission.

You giggled at his desperate gaze, “go ahead, honey.” You say kissing his forehead, sitting on the other side of your daughter’s bed as Jake cradled you both into his arms.

“Once upon a time…”

As Jake had told the same story he tells your daughter every single night, your story, you know there is nowhere else you’d rather be right now, but here with Jake.

@ won4kiss 2024

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