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eccentricwritingbaby · 3 months

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baby finn series, the godfather

lando norris x wife!mom!reader

series masterlist

summary - a collection of max fewtrell's importance to your son as his favorite godfather.

masterlist

the big question

“y’know i’ve been thinking,” lando mumbles into your stomach, the comfortable home of baby finn as he grows at just four months, “we should figure out godparents,” your husband suggests.

“oh yeah,” you sigh, continuing your motions of combing lando’s hair with your fingers as his head rests on your chest in order to have his nightly conversation with the baby, “we’ve been so wrapped up in names, i haven’t even thought about godparents,”

“i know,” lando shrugs, moving his hand gently up and down your bump, “should we do siblings or friends?”

“hmm,” you think to yourself before voicing your opinion, “i think friends,” you feel your husband nod his head in agreement, “i mean our siblings already have a place in our baby’s life, we should involve our friends in a more meaningful manner,”

“i agree,” lando nods again, “do you mind if i pick the godfather, and then you could pick the godmother?”

“already itching to ask max, huh?” you giggle as your husband joins in with your laughter.

“how’d you know?” he asks sarcastically as you continue your laughs.

“do you wanna ask him tomorrow when he comes over to stream?” with that question, lando’s ears perk up in excitement as he moves his head off your chest in order to meet your eyes.

“yes!” he exclaims, “who are you gonna ask?” he questions, leaning in quickly to peck your lips as you think for a moment, “y/b/f/n?”

“yeah, that’s what i was thinking, she’s really been there for me with the pregnancy and we’ve been best friends forever,”

“invite her over tomorrow,” lando suggests, “her and max get on well, we can all have dinner after max and i stream and we’ll ask them,” you nod at his request, beginning to pull out your phone to text her and invite her over tomorrow. she replies quickly that she’s free and would love to come. you show lando the text as you smile together in triumph and excitement.

the next day, max had come around four in the afternoon in order to stream for a few hours. you could hear the boys yelling and laughing while live as you moved around the nursery, sorting through different items. a few moments later, the knock on your door brings butterflies to your stomach, nerves rattling you about your question later.

“hi!!” you giggle as your best friend greets you with a hug after opening the door, “i’m just getting some stuff together in the nursery before i start dinner, wanna help?”

“of course!” she cries out, “i can’t wait to see all the new stuff you got since i’ve been here last,”

“oh my gosh, so much,” you smile, “lando’s mom stopped by a few days ago with a bunch of things, that’s what i’m mainly sorting now,”

“ugh, that’s so sweet,” she holds a hand over her heart as you begin to walk back towards the nursery, “are they live in there?”

“i think so,”

“is it just fewtrell and lando?”

“yeah,”

“i’m gonna pop in really quick to say hi,”

“okay, just meet me in the nursery,”

after a plethora of clothes and toys sorted, two different video games conquered, you head to the kitchen in order to prepare dinner.

“oh how i’ve missed your cooking, y/n,” max sighs out, rubbing his stomach as him and lando enter the kitchen. he hops onto the barstool at the counter next to your best friend as lando makes his way towards you, placing a gentle kiss to your neck.

“and i’ve missed you eating all our food, fewtrell,” you bite back quickly, pointing your spoon at him jokingly.

“need any help, baby?” lando quietly asks you, a hand coming up to run over your stomach.

“i think i’m fine, it’s almost ready,” you turn a bit, kissing his cheek in appreciation, “you wanna get them drinks?”

“what are you guys drinking?” lando directs to your friends.

“i’m drinking double for miss momma over there,” your best friend laughs, waving a finger at you.

“i think that’s my job,” lando jokes along with her, “if i have to put up with the hormones, i get to drink double,”

“hey!” you exclaim with a small hit to your husband’s stomach, “i haven’t been that bad,” you look up from the food and find three pairs of eyes staring back at you with raised eyebrows, “what?”

“oh honey…” your best friend trails off, “lando’s a saint,”

“wow,” you sigh out, “i’m rethinking my decision right now,”

“what decision?” max asks, cracking three beers open and passing them around.

“well,” you pause and glance at lando, him giving you a slight nod to keep going, “we had ulterior motives in inviting you both here tonight,”

“a foursome?” your best friend jokes, “listen, guys, you’re great but i don’t see you like that-”

“shut up,” you cut her off with a laugh, “we were hoping you’d be baby norris’ godparents,” you and lando look at them, hope buzzing around you that they’d accept.

“oh my god…” fewtrell trails off, a hand coming to cover his mouth in disbelief.

“yes! a thousand times yes!” your best friend cries out beside him.

“what she said!” max joins in, both of them sliding off the barstools and running around the counter to hug the both of you.

their first meeting

“hey mate, yeah she did great,” you hear lando mumbling into his phone as you continue to coo at the little baby boy in your arms, “why don’t you drop by? i’m sure she’ll be okay with it,” with that new sentence, you tear your eyes away from finn and meet lando’s gaze. he mouths a quick ‘max’ and you nod in approval to his visitation, “alright, we’ll see you soon,”

“max fewtrell, right?” you ask once your husband gets off the phone. he nods at your question, moving to be right back by your side, adoring his baby boy and his gorgeous wife.

“i don’t think verstappen is itching to see him like fewtrell is,” lando giggles as his hand comes up to brush some hair out of your eyes, “you did so good, love,” after the praise, he leans in for a kiss, happily reciprocated by you.

“thank you, lan,” you breath out, “when will max be here?”

“about an hour,” he answers quietly, still adoring the little baby in front of him, “do you want to nap?”

“you read my mind, love,” relief lacing your tired voice as you begin to hand finn off to his father, “just wake me a few minutes before max arrives, please,”

“of course, get some rest, baby,” he holds finn in his arm with one hand as his other comes to pull the blankets higher onto your body. leaning over slightly, careful of the newborn in his arms, he pecks your lips lightly before you fall asleep.

forty-five minutes later, you’re gently being shaken awake, finn safely in his hospital-given bassinet, “baby,” lando quietly speaks, careful not to startle you or wake the baby.

“is max almost here?” you groggily ask, beginning to rub the sleep from your eye.

“yes, love, in about ten minutes,” he assures you.

“okay, is finn alright?”

“sleeping happily beside you,”

“thank you, does he need to be fed?”

“the nurse said that your next feeding would be in another hour,”

“okay,” you let out a breath, “will you help me up? i want to change before he comes,”

“oh baby, you don’t have to change for him, just relax,” lando pushes, but you just look down at your shirt and up at him.

“lan, i appreciate that, i really do,” you start, “but my tits leaked milk in my sleep, i’m soaked,”

“oh,” lando laughs, you joining him, “okay let me get you a new shirt,”

after you had changed into your clean and dry shirt, you scooped up your baby boy just as max begins to walk into the room. he’s holding a large bottle of champagne in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other.

“hiii,” he whispers out into the room, “congratulations,” you keep quiet, letting your husband share this moment with his best friend.

“thanks for coming, mate,” lando walks over to him, pulling him into a brief hug.

“are you kidding? i wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he laughs, “these are for you,” he waves the flowers around before setting them down on the table next to you, “and this is for you too,” he waves the bottle of champagne as well, “for the sleepless nights,” he finishes with a wink.

“that is so sweet, max, you didn’t have to do that,” you reply to his thoughtful gesture.

“of course i did,”

“no i mean the champagne,” you nod in its direction on your bedside table, “that won’t be opened for months, i’m breastfeeding,”

“oh,” he retracts a bit before picking it up and moving towards your husband, “this is for you-”

“shut up,” lando laughs, grabbing the bottle and setting it down, “do you want to meet him?”

“yes,” he whispers out, eyes turning back to you and the bundle of joy in your arms.

“c’mere,” you usher him over, moving the baby into his arms as he begins to melt at the sight.

“he’s adorable,” max croaks out, emotions overflowing as he stares down at his godson, “thank god he takes after you, y/n,” you and lando share a laugh, and you eye your husband, urging him to tell his best friend the news.

“um,” lando starts, moving to sit next to you on your bed, “do you want to know his name?”

“yes,” max replies quickly, his eyes never leaving the newborn in his arms.

“its uh,” lando coughs, clearing his throat from nerves, “finn maxwell norris,”

“what?” fewtrell stares at your husband in disbelief, tears beginning to form in his waterline.

“you heard me, mate,” lando nods his head, emotions clouding his face as well.

“oh my go- oh my god,” max stutters out, eyes now moving back down to finn, “you are named after such a great guy,” he jokes, causing erupted laughter throughout the hospital room.

babysitting

“okay, you’ve got the list right there with his schedule,” you point out to max, finn running around in circles with lando chasing right behind him, “and you’ve got everyone's numbers that you need,”

“i think so,” max nods, “i think i still have your mom’s from last time,”

“okay good,” you nod, “if there’s a real emergency and we can’t be reached call lando’s dad first, he’s closest,”

“got it,” max states, “you know i’ve done this a lot, y/n. i’ve been babysitting him since he was a newborn, now he’s three,”

“so you know i’m a paranoid first time mother,” you laugh at him, “i have to go through the motions,”

“i know, but he’ll be fine,” max laughs, pulling you into a hug, “i haven’t killed him yet,”

“very true,”

“and i’m more responsible than your husband over there,” fewtrell nods his head in the direction of lando and finn, running around like madmen in the living room, cackling with each other at their antics.

“you are so right,” you laugh at the scene in front of you, “alright norris!” you call out, both your boys whipping their heads in your direction, “the big one,” you clarify, “we’ve got to go,”

“right, right,” he agrees, bending down to give finn the talk about behavior. after a few ‘yes dada’s’ and giggles shared between the two, your husband is walking over to your place at the door, “ready?”

“yes, love,” you give him a quick peck to the cheek, “finn?”

“momma?” he asks from his spot in between max’s legs.

“best behavior?”

“yes, momma,” he nods, gripping onto max as you just smile at him, “alright, we’ll be back late, max the guest room is all set up for you,”

“i know the drill, y/n,” he laughs at you.

“paranoid mother, remember?” you direct back.

“yes, i will check in on the hour if i have to,”

“much appreciated, mate,” lando finishes the conversation, pushing you out the door, “we’ll see you tonight,”

the door shuts behind you and lando, max now bending over to meet the little blue eyes staring back up at him.

“are we playing monster tonight?” he asks the little boy.

“MONSTA!” finn screeches in excitement, running towards the living room and away from max as he starts chasing him.

“i’m gonna get you!” fewtrell screams out as he chases finn, “monsters coming!”

“NOO!” your baby cries out, laughter evident in the home as the two boys continue the chase.

that night, you and lando arrive back to a dark home, holding each other up a bit as you were both carrying a slight alcohol buzz. you giggle into lando’s lips as they continue their attack on your own.

“lan,” you laugh into his mouth, “mmph, save it for the bedroom,”

“i can’t help it my wife looks so so good tonight,” he replies, voice in a dropped octave, his hands grabbing your ass with no shame.

“mm,” you hum again into his mouth, “and my husband looks fantastic every night,”

“that’s not fair,” he laughs, one hand moving to grab your chest as his other hand stays on your bum, “i think you look good every night too, you one upped my compliment,”

“well, i’m sorry,” you feign innocence, “why don’t you just show me how beautiful i am every night,”

“oh baby, i plan on it,”

“c’mon let’s go to our room,” you begin to drag him down the hall, but not without halting your movements due to the slightly ajar door to your right. lando, still kind of tipsy, runs right into your back as you’re stopped.

“what, y/n?”

“look,” you nod your head into the room, lando following your gaze, his glossed over eyes softening at the sight.

“they’re so cute,” he laughs from behind you. you both take another moment, staring into your guest room at max and finn passed out in the bed together. max was pushed onto the left side with finn’s little body sprawled across him, “should i move finn into his room?”

“no, let them sleep,” you turn your attention towards your husband again, “you owe me some compliments in the bedroom,” you grab lando’s hand and start your way to the bedroom once again.

“i like the sound of that, love,” he whispers in giggles, you both a tipsy mess, running to your room.

running away

“FINN!” you yell at your four year old, “i told you to pick up and put away your toys two hours ago, what is this?”

“i don’t wannnaa,” he whines, stomping his foot down.

“i don’t care,” you firmly push, “put away your toys now. otherwise your father will hear about this when he gets back,”

“i’m not gonna,” he huffs out, crossing his arms over his little chest, challenging you to break.

“fine,” you turn away from him and to the mess littered across your entire apartment, taking in a deep breath before you did snap, “wait until your father gets home,” finn doesn’t like the sound of this, beginning to cry and run away to his room, “DON’T SLAM THAT DOOR!” you shout down the hall. bang. it slammed. you breathe one more time, and wait for lando to walk through the door and handle his mini-me.

you were five months pregnant, and too exhausted to deal with his temper tantrum. finn was always a good kid, and the tantrums were never often. but when they came, they came in hard. it was usually after not enough sleep, or not enough food, but only a few times a year, thankfully. you and lando always joked that all the built up little tantrums he didn’t have morph into a few gigantic ones a year.

finally after an hour you hear the front door open, heaving yourself up and off the couch, you make your way into lando’s arms.

“hey, baby,” he laughs, wrapping his arms around you as you just sink further into him, “what’s wrong?”

“finn, he’s having a tantrum day,” you sigh, waving one of your arms not wrapped around your husband to the mess that was your home, “he wouldn’t pick up his toys, he screamed, cried, slammed the door,” you breathe out, letting your emotions finally wash over you since your rock was finally home. lando wraps his arms around you tighter, letting you finally calm down a little. he sways you a bit as he hears you fight the tears back, rubbing your shoulder.

“i’m sorry, love,” he tries to calm you, “i’ll talk to him, okay?” you nod your head in his chest, “are you alright?”

“better now that you’re here,” you mumble, “i’m sorry i had to welcome you home like this-”

“hey, hey,” he stops you quickly, “don’t apologize, i’m gonna talk to him,” lando leads you back over to the couch, propping your feet up and then moving towards his son’s room.

knocking twice on the door, he hears a quiet, but stern, ‘come in’.

“hey, bubs,” lando greets the four year old, “i heard about today,” your husband tries to talk to finn, but he won’t look away from the coloring book he’s using, sprawled across the floor, “finn,” lando puts sharper, but finn just keeps coloring.

lando rolls his eyes quickly, moving towards his son and grabbing the coloring book from him.

“HEY!” finn shouts at his dad.

“now i’ve got your attention?” lando asks him, “i should’ve had your attention when i called your name the first time- actually, your mother should have had your attention when she asked you to complete a simple task!” your husband begins to raise his voice at finn, not shouting, but definitely not coddling the boy.

“but dada-” he begins to whine.

“no finn, no ‘buts’. you have been very bad today and you owe your mother an apology,” lando stands in front of him, hands on hips, and finn just continues to whine on the floor, “get up, finn, go apologize and clean up your toys,” he watches as his son doesn’t move an inch, “NOW!” he shouts, but the young four year old is unbothered.

“no, i go live with uncle max!” he shouts back, now getting up to grab his small suitcase.

“finn maxwell norris,” lando gives his warning tone to the boy, the one that usually scares the shit out of him, but he just keeps packing, “fine, go live with him,” he attempts to call his sons bluff, moving out of the room and back to his wife on the couch.

“what happened? i heard you yelling,” you ask lando as he sits down with a sigh, wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer.

“i hate yelling at him, i do, it’s just when he gets like this-”

“i know, lan,” you reassure him, “i think we got blessed with such a sweet boy on most days that his hard days are worse than normal,”

“he says he’s moving in with max,” lando chuckles, “i’d love to see him go one night without our goodnight cuddles to him,”

you laugh along with your husband before adding on, “or he’ll come out of his tantrum fog and realize he misses his parents that he loves so much,”

“for sure,” he giggles with you, just as your son stomps out of his room and towards the door.

“where ya going, finn?” you ask in innocence, already knowing the answer.

“to live with uncle max,” he huffs out. even in his terrible mood, you can’t help but find him just a bit adorable.

“okay,” your husband speaks to him, both of you beginning to get up and walk towards the door, “have fun,” lando opens the door, watching your son walk one door down the hall and knock. the door creaks open, max looking down at the little boy and his suitcase.

“was there a sleepover i didn’t know about?” he asks you and lando as you watch from your doorway.

“oh no,” your husband laughs, “finn tell him,”

“i move in with you,” he grunts out, making his way towards max.

“i’m sorry, what?” fewtrell looks at the both of you again, searching for some sort of answer.

“oh yeah,” you nod, “he wants to live with you now,”

“um,” max starts, letting the little boy walk through his legs and into his apartment, “okay?”

“don’t worry, mate,” lando laughs, “he’ll be back tomorrow,”

“i’m sure,” max agrees, “the kid hates the food in my house,”

“that’s because you have no food in your house, fewtrell,” you laugh.

“and that’s why i alway eat dinner at your house, y/l/n,”

“and that’s why i don’t feel bad about my kid crashing with you tonight,” you jab back. you all say your goodnights and head back into your respective apartments, you and lando heading straight to bed after the long day.

three in the morning and the pounding on your door is not from your dream. you and lando shuffle out of bed and towards the door, already knowing who is on the other side. your husband swings the door open, coming face to face with his teary-eyed son. max is standing there, clearly half asleep, and holding the boy up by his waist.

“this belongs to you,” he mumbles out, pushing finn into lando’s arms and tossing his suitcase past you both and into your home. you both are too tired to even say goodnight, choosing instead to shut the door and head directly back to your bedroom.

“tomorrow morning finn,” you start as you all climb into bed together, “you’re cleaning and apologizing,”

“i know, momma. i sowwy,” he curls up beside lando, your husbands arm instinctively wrapping around his son.

“we’ll worry about that tomorrow, baby,” lando kisses his and your forehead’s, falling back into his sleep as quick as he was brought out of it.

“uncle max had no food momma,” finn quietly admits, causing you to let out a few giggles.

“goodnight, finn, dada and i are happy you’re back home,”

“me too, momma,”

1K notes · View notes

auroralwriting · 13 days

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your beauty never scared me

spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

you’re scared no one will ever love and understand you, but spencer always has.

word count: 2.2k

warnings: a bit of unrequited love, comfort/angst/fluff, negative self thought, spencer is always a sweetheart, reader has a darker aesthetic

Maybe it was the fact that you came from a broken family from a young age. No, you didn't have a bad childhood, but it wasn't ideal for a young girl growing up.

It could have been the bad high school relationships, full of boys who didn't understand how to treat a young woman. Stuck at their stupid baseball games or waiting for them to finish their video game, sitting alone on their bed waiting for them to finish.

The most likely cause for your fear of love was simply the fear that no one would ever truly understand you, and therefore, never be able to love you right.

If you looked deeper, though, much further past the surface level, deep into the core, you would've realized that Spencer Reid had been there all along.

When you first joined the BAU, Spencer Reid was a typical little nerd, the glasses he wore even fulfilling the stereotype. His rambles about anything and everything were endearing, and lead you to begin your friendship with the man after he told you the history of your favorite movies.

"...its distinctive style with his signature blend of dark humor and whimsy. His imaginative vision, influenced by German Expressionism, is evident in the film’s surreal sets and exaggerated character designs. Burton’s decision to cast Michael Keaton as the chaotic title character and his encouragement of Keaton’s improvisation contributed to the film’s memorable, unpredictable energy. The innovative special effects and makeup, along with the creative set design by Bo Welch, further showcased Burton's unique approach."

By the end of his rant, Spencer had expected you to have been completely focused on anything else, but your eyes were trained on him, a small sparkle flickering in them.

"Spence, how do you know do much about Beetlejuice? You haven't even seen it before." you'd chuckled.

"I think Tim Burton is an interesting director. Maybe we could, uh, see it together sometime? If you want, of course." Spencer awkwardly fiddled with his fingers, the suggestion of the two of you hanging out outside of the work settle rattling his nerves.

You had given him a big smile, beneath your dark clothes and makeup was a heart of white and gold, a truly captivating soul. "I'd love to, Spencer! I own it, so you can come over whenever."

"Whenever sounds good," Spencer paused, thinking about what he had just said. "I mean, Thursday?"

"Thursday it is, boy genius." That name was usually reserved for making fun of Spencer, but the way you said it actually made his heart flutter.

Spencer would've never guessed that the girl, clad in dark clothing, the complete opposite of his own aesthetic, would be interested in hanging out with him. Then, it happened. And it happened again, and again, until you became friends.

Your friendship with the doctor grew. As you got closer, Spencer began to identify your fears and your tells. You played with your hair when you were nervous, bit the skin of your fingernails when you were anxious, tapped your foot or bounced your leg when you were impatient. He began to understand you on a deeper level.

It began to be the same for you. You knew his likes, dislikes, fears and worries. You understood his struggles with his mother and father, how sometimes this job didn't feel like enough until he made a true difference in someone's life.

Spencer Reid and you had connected in nearly a cosmic level, and that began to scare you.

It was two and a half years after Spencer had met you when he realized he had been falling in love with you for nearly a year. His small crush had grown exponentially. After Haley Hotchner's death, you'd taken in Jack for several days while Hotch planned the funeral and began to clean the house from the murders. Jack had taken to you quickly; he'd gone as far as to call you his favorite aunt.

Seeing the level of compassion and helpfulness you had displayed for Hotch made Spencer begin to realize that your friendship was beginning to move to the next level for him.

He began to think of you night and day, wondering what you were doing, how you were doing, what your plans were. He wanted to be with you, to feel your skin, linger in your existence. It wasn't until JJ had explained to him that that feeling he felt was love that he began to understand that you were in no place for him to admit his feelings.

Spencer never meant to profile anyone unless he was working, but he found it hard to not with you. He noticed your lack of dating, how even when you had the chance, you evaded it. He noticed your disdain to the notion of true love, or love at first sight, or even soulmates. It didn't take him long to piece together that it wasn't a hatred of love, no, it was a fear of it. However, he could never understand the why of the fear.

Now, you and Spencer had met five years ago. You'd both physically changed in looks over the time, but your friendship only remained and grew passionately stronger.

After the death of Emily, and finding out she didn't really die, Spencer had you as his rock. You grieved together, to the point that for three weeks, you lived with Spencer in his apartment. After you'd left, Spencer realized that he couldn't live without you anymore.

Spencer and you sat on his couch, the cold September month made you crave an early Halloween movie. So, Spencer put on his own copy of Beetlejuice he bought a few years back. The soft glow of the lamp cast warm shadows across the room, and the faint scent of popcorn lingered in the air. You could hear the distant hum of the city outside, blending with the soft rustling of the movie’s soundtrack.

"I like Adam and Barbara," Spencer hummed as he watched the screen. "They make a really good couple."

You nodded, "I guess they do,"

Spencer's brows furrowed at your words. "You don't sound convinced."

"I don't know," You shrugged, sitting up and crossing your legs. "He's sort of controlling over her. It's just too much, she's a strong woman."

"You mean he's protective over her in the afterlife filled with dead people they didn't even knew existed?" Spencer raised a brow, turning to you. "I'm pretty sure that's relatively normal."

Turning your attention back to the screen, you replied, "I guess so,"

Spencer sighed, finally deciding to ask you the question he'd been avoiding for too many years now. "Why are you so scared of love?"

His question made you turn back to him, a confused look on your face. "What?"

"You're so pessimistic about it. You always avoid dating, talking about it, anything to even do with love." Spencer explained. "I'm just curious, why?"

"Because, there is no way love that strong exists." You concluded, folding your arms over your chest. "That's why it's all in the movies. It's fake for a reason."

Spencer nearly chuckled at your words, finding himself in disbelief. Sure, he didn't really believe in soulmates, but he definitely believed in love. "Sure love exists," Spencer said. "True love has to come from somewhere to be spoken about. It's why its so deeply rooted into art and literature. Plus, with the psychological evidence of--"

"Okay, okay," You put your hands up in mock surrender. "I believe you, Spence." You'd never cut off one of his rants before.

"This bothers you," Spencer noted, his arms mocking your previous stance as they folded over his chest. "Why does this bother you so much, what aren't you telling me?"

You let out a huff of air in reply, your defences kicking into full gear. "Why do you care so much?"

Spencer stuttered over his words, “Uh- because it clearly affects you! It’s not hard to notice your dislike of it, and I want to know.” Spencer defended. He could see it in your eyes, though. You were too good of a profiler to not know he was lying through his teeth.

“The real reason?” You sharply replied, hating that Spencer was lying.

“Because I’m in love with you,” Spencer’s voice was filled with desperation. “Here you are, constantly belittling the idea of love when that’s all I want to give to you, and I don’t understand why.”

His words cut you like a knife. You hadn’t expected him to say that, let alone feel it. It almost made you feel guilty. “No one has ever understood me, Spencer. I don’t want to settle for just anyone who will pretend for their whole life that they know me when deep down they will never be able to understand who I am, what I need.”

“You think I don’t?” Spencer challenged. He tried not to feel offended at your words, truly. Yet they hit him like a slap to the face. He felt like he understood you.

“Okay, prove it then.”

Spencer was ready for this, “Your least favorite cases involve those with divorced parents. Not because of the affect on their children, but the affect it takes on them. You hate to see when it hurts one of them, or both.” Spencer’s first claim was true, and it caught you off guard. “You hate anything with a pumpkin scent, however, you enjoy real pumpkins because of their look rather than their scent. You bite your lip, tap your foot, shake your leg, all when you feel negatively.”

“Anyone could profile that,” You weakly replied, feeling thrown off at Spencer’s careful acknowledgment of your little tells.

“Are you afraid of love because no one will ever understand you, or because you’re scared you’ll never find someone who will.” Spencer finished. He watched as your mouth opened and closed, the words not quite making it out. “I see you, I hear you. My favorite thing is when you tell me things about yourself, your day, your feelings. Any day without you is a bad day and any day with you is a good one.”

Spencer’s words left your heart beating faster in your chest as you began to realize this is what you were looking for all along, but your own fear that you would never find it blind sighted you to the truth. The truth that Spencer Walter Reid was in love with you.

Spencer often recalled his own struggles with relationships, remembering the long hours he spent studying while his peers socialized. With him being so much younger, he had no way to truly connect with them. The sense of isolation he felt growing up made him cherish the connections he built later in life, driving him to seek genuine understanding and affection. On the other hand, your own problems with family and bad relationships drove you to hold a near-resentful feeling to love. It made you feel like it was something you could never have. That was something Spencer was beginning to see from your perspective.

"Please," Spencer's voice was softer, more vulnerable as his eyes pleaded with you. "say something."

"I'm sorry," you breathed. For a moment, Spencer thought you were about to reject him, until he saw the glistening tears form in your eyes. "I-I should've known sooner."

Spencer nearly chuckled, "I didn't want to make it too obvious."

"Spencer?" you asked.

"Yeah?" he replied.

"Why do you love me?"

Your question made his heart nearly crack at the raw fragility your tone held. All he wanted to do was to take you into his arms and sing you sweet nothings until you believed him, but right now that wasn't an option. "I love you because you're unapologetically you," Spencer's reply made you finally lock eyes with him. "You're so sweet and kind, you never try to hide the things you like and dislike. You're so bold and brave. You make me feel so alive, so wanted. Every moment with you is a reminder of how extraordinary it is to be around someone who radiates such genuine warmth and enthusiasm."

"You really love me?" Your voice felt meek in comparison to how your normal assertiveness and bravato sounded. Your heart felt three times bigger in your chest as a tear dared to slip down your cheek.

Before it could even leave your eye, Spencer brought his sleeve over his hand and soaked it up gently with the cuff. "I love you with every part of me."

"I think I want to love you, too." you admitted. It felt hard to say those words, to finally give into your darkest, most vulnerable desire of unwavering love.

"Even with your fears, you're beautiful." Spencer softly reached to graze your cheek. "This, your fears, nothing could ever scare me. I'll teach you to let me love you if I need to."

"That better be a promise," you slightly chuckled, holding your pinky out to the man.

Spencer smiled, locking his pinky with your own, "It's a promise."

As you held Spencer’s pinky in your own, a sense of peace settled over you. The weight of your fears began to lift, replaced by a tentative hope. "Maybe love isn’t as impossible for me as I thought," You whispered, reaching out to hold his hand. Spencer’s smile was both a promise and a comfort, signaling the beginning of a new chapter in your lives.

#spencer reid x reader #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #bau team #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid angst #spencer reid comfort

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rottiens · 2 months

Text

are we havin' fun yet?┊ s. getō ft. s. gōjō

✫ word count. 5.1k

✫ summary. you get caught up in the unresolved argument and tension from years ago between two old best friends.

✫ tags. (18+) — explicit content. no curses au, bisexual panic and denial, female reader + afab (the reader wears painted nails and has somewhat long hair), mostly geto-centric narrative, objectification, praising, cucking.

✫ notes. ok this is born thanks to the idea of this ask, a drabble that i lost control of heh. there are many things i love about this piece and i hope you enjoy it kiss kiss. divider creds: cafekitsune.

From food and video games to shirts and colognes, Suguru and Satoru have always shared everything. It's adorable, to a certain extent, how close the two of them are and how others perceive them as brothers from the outside. It's an unbreakable friendship that was born spontaneously when they were both little. They met in elementary school, when Satoru decided to share his crayons so Suguru could color the house he had drawn, and since then, the affection that began then has only grown along with them.

The only time the two were apart was during their time at university where Satoru was inclined to study history while Suguru, with his tendencies towards human relations and his great empathy, decided to study social psychology. However, after graduating and starting work not far from the city center, they both decided it was time to live together again, at least for a while, with the intention of saving expenses.

Suguru has never minded sharing. His shampoo, his food, his bath gel. So it was only natural to expect his friend to do the same for him, to share everything, right? Just like back then.

That afternoon, Satoru was returning to the apartment after a long day at work. The backpack slung carelessly over his shoulder as his footsteps echoed in the hallway. He unlocked the door with his key, which turned with a familiar, comforting sound. Upon entering, he was greeted by the scent of the incense Suguru always lit to keep the atmosphere calm and cozy.

Suguru was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with precision and care. Hearing the door, he looked up to greet and greet him, as usual, only the greeting died on the tip of his tongue, turning into a long sigh.

“Oh.” Disappointment disguised in a subdued tone, so Suguru decides to add. “You bring company.”

Again. He wants to say, but he bites his tongue and harshly splits the onion in two. You're here. Again. The friend Satoru has been bringing home every weekend for a month now. Suguru thought it was going to be casual, like all the times before, something that would last a week or two at most, because Satoru isn't the type to have long-term relationships. But seeing you here after a full month surprises him, no, it bothers him, and he can't explain why.

Satoru smiles, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the air.

“'Hi, Suguru,” you greet him, accompanying your words with a nervous twitch that leads you to squeeze Satoru's intertwined fingers. You look adorable, and he avoids rolling his eyes. You're wearing a tight-fitting black knit-and-button blouse that highlights your figure, and a short black skirt that exposes your legs that he can't help but admire before focusing on his friend.

“Will you stay for dinner?” Suguru asks out of politeness and breaks eye contact with you to look at Satoru, who struggles to hold back a smile.

His fingers tighten around the knife just as a muscle in his jaw does.

“Later. We'll be in my room.”

Unable to add anything else, Satoru tugs your hand towards the hallway along with a slight nod that has you following him like a lost puppy. A few seconds later, the slam of the door rattles the walls and minutes later a pop song reaches the kitchen. It's the voice of a familiar artist, high and raspy, and Suguru wants to rip out his eardrums.

He plunges the knife down on the onion hard, hitting the board with a dull thud that gets louder and louder. Even over the noise of the knife, his thoughts, and the woman now singing another song from the same album, Suguru can hear it: those sounds Satoru tries to muffle with his hand, the breaths, the moans.

The hot oil bubbles in the pan rising with the anger cooking in the top of his stomach, the olive oil toasting the onions and garlic, while Suguru pretends he doesn't know what's going on a few feet away from him. He doesn't hate you, not really. You're sweet, you're kind, and he thinks that makes it worse. What really runs across his skin from the inside, like fingernails scratching a chalkboard, is the fact that Satoru doesn't talk about you. Of what he does, what he doesn't do, that he doesn't offer you as an offering from which he can take. Like one of his toys, like his shirts, like the other partners he's had before you.

It is the exclusivity with you that irritates him to such an extent that his thoughts corrupt him and make him completely forget about the garlic that is now dark and smells burnt.

“Fuck this,” he growls to himself, wrinkling his nose at the smell and the plume of smoke rising to the ceiling. Suguru scoops up the burnt ingredients with the spatula and pushes them into the trash can. He puts the pan back on the fire and grabs a new onion to chop. As he cuts, he hears your laughter, that bubbly, mischievous, genuine laughter that comes out of your belly and echoes throughout the apartment, as if Satoru is making you cry from the tickling. Suguru peels and chops the onion harder, throwing it into the pan once more, his eyes red and watery, his nose full of the peculiar stench of onion.

Satoru laughs, says something (perhaps in your ear, even against your thigh) that Suguru can't decipher. A door opens and closes. Then he hears the shower water, and the words of the song come through more clearly thanks to Satoru leaving the door open, as he always does. Suguru adds the ginger and concentrates on the curry, and on nothing else but cooking, showering and getting out of there. And that's what he does.

He waits for you to finish playing newlywed couple in the shower, takes off his clothes, ignores his erection and steps into the shower that still smells of you. To the shampoo you both share, to your perfume, to the minty toothpaste and- it's the first time it happens, as an irony of fate, as if life is mocking him, suguru finds your panties lying on the side of the shower, he is stepping on them and looking at them as if he has discovered something horrifying, they are soft, white and lacy around the edge and have a sticky, almost white he might say, fluid on them.

Suguru picks them up. He watches them a few feet away, he knows he shouldn't do it, he would never take anything his friend doesn't offer him first and he doesn't because his pride is stronger.

He throws them on the floor a little further away from where he picked them up, steps into the shower and cums silently in his clenched fist as he drowns in the smell of you.

Suguru wraps the towel around his waist when he's done, lets his hair cascade loose dripping droplets down his back and looks in the mirror to see his cheeks stained red and finally exits the bathroom.

You are with Satoru in the living room, apparently arguing about something, you catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye entering the room and closing the door.

Suguru takes off his towel and looks at his hand. Okay, he did it. He tries to justify himself but there's no reason other than, he thinks he has the right to taste you, to smell you, to know what has satoru coming back to you, so he brings the used panties to his nose shyly at first, full of embarrassment, but when he spits on his hand and starts fucking his cock harder he realizes as he sniffs you like he's a stalker pervert, he notices there are no inhibitions now, it's just you, your panties, his hard cock and his imagination telling him the different poses he could take you in if satoru would let him.

He cums silently as he hears the front door close and the shame returns to him as if it has always belonged to him. Suguru hurries to clean up his mess with napkins he keeps hidden in the room and moves to stow your panties in one of the drawers where he keeps his underwear, way down low.

Suguru's face is hot and his chest tight. His naked body as an accusation reminds him of the crime he just committed, so he moves to pick up some shorts and slides them up his muscular legs until the heat in his chest is descending.

He lies down for a moment on the mattress that makes no noise when he moves and stares at the ceiling until his vision blurs and he stops thinking and, then, remembers the curry.

——

The second time it happens it's not even his fault.

This seemed like a joke of fate or some divine plan to punish him for being thirsty for water he can't drink.

You are sitting in front of him, on the floor, legs slightly spread while wearing a satoru t-shirt too big for you which helps him discover that you have nothing on underneath except for black panties. Suguru can see for a moment how your pussy lips swallow some of the material and thinks of the excuses he can come up with to justify if asked about the blush or the amount of sweat pearling his temples.

“ UNO!” Shouts satoru victoriously placing the last card in the center of the floor and you feign indignation as you tap him on the shoulder, moving into your space, and flashing him again your panties. “Are you okay, man?” asks Satoru still laughing, he has your wrists clutched against his chest to keep you from hitting him again as you accuse him of cheating.

He was. But Suguru didn't care to discuss that now.

“Suguru, say something to him!” You chuckle slowly as you do when he sucks too hard on your clit and he leaves you breathless. He knows because he saw you, a couple of weeks ago when satoru was eating your pussy on top of the counter when he thought suguru was asleep, you were right where he was preparing the curry just a couple of nights ago.

Suguru closes his eyes for a second erasing that mental image and gets up, before anyone notices what's going on and is grateful for the baggy t shirt he's wearing that hides his semi erection.

“Yeah; it's the curry… I think, I'll be back,” he excuses himself.

The third time it happens Suguru looks around the room for cameras. This had to be a joke.

A pair of black panties were attacked at the bottom of the washing machine, mixed in with his clothes, kept there since the last day you visited them. Suguru knows he must return them and he will…. soon.

He slips them into the back pocket and finishes placing the clothes he will wash that day inside the washing machine. Then he closes it harder than he should.

——

It's incredibly hot, so he's not wearing a shirt. You're close to Satoru, as usual, huddled a few feet away from Suguru as you watch the soccer game. The fan is barely enough for the three of you, but Suguru prefers to stay away from you for his own good.

The game's narrator announces halftime and Suguru takes the opportunity to blink and stretch his legs. He raises his arms above his head with a groan, and his shorts are pulled down a little, revealing the beginnings of the short hairs on his abdomen.

“Man, this is getting boring,” Satoru grunts with a yawn. You two look at him.

“What do you mean? The match is 2-4 right now…”

“You've really given up already?” Suguru frowns, looking at the back of your head but unable to see the expression with which you watch your boyfriend… or whatever you two are now.

“Huh?” he replies in confusion.

“I thought you wanted to fuck my girlfriend,” blurts out satoru, as casually as if he's talking about the weather, his eyes now on the commercials playing on TV.

Suguru thinks that if he were still drinking from the water bottle he'd be coughing right now. Instead, his eyes widen to such an extent that they could pop out of their sockets and roll on the floor, his throat goes dry, his heart leaks out of his chest and a whiplash hits his cock. Satoru laughs noting the expression he finds comical. “Funny you act so surprised when you've always been so easy to read,” he says.

“Babe, come on,” you murmur as you stroke Satoru's chest in circles, your short red nails contrasting with the Red Hot Chili Peppers tank top he's wearing.

Suguru turns on the couch to get a better look at you, his blue eyes locked on yours intimidating. They always have. However, with a deep breath you steel yourself not to break eye contact.

“Why didn't you say anything before?”

Satoru smiles sideways. Hearing him say this last, you turn to position yourself perfectly in the middle of the two of you, avoiding the gaze of either of them, and fixating on the commercial about the energy drink they're promoting now.

“I thought you were going to ask, as usual,” he says with a shrug, still talking as if you weren't present.

“I thought it was different now.”

“Well, are you going to ask?”

Suguru pushes his cheek with his tongue and his fingers gently grip the couch.

“Satoru…” you warn, averting your gaze to the floor. Suguru notices how fast your breathing has become, his friend's long fingers playing with the edge of your denim shorts, sometimes hiding under the fabric as they scratch the fat of your thigh from time to time.

“Say it,” Satoru encourages him gently, looking up at you through his eyelashes and with determined eyes that mimic those of an eagle.

Suguru bites his cheek gently, perhaps to make sure he's not dreaming. He has a slight feeling that this is a trap, that Satoru is leading him to a place he won't be able to get out of, and yet he decides to sink his feet into what is probably quicksand.

He's always wanted this, clearly, and to have it in front of him, being offered on a platter for him to take and satiate his hunger- there's very little a hungry man can take.

“I want to fuck her,” Suguru spits and his voice doesn't tremble. There's a slight frown on his forehead and the summer heat prevents him from breathing normally.

You bite your lip as you watch Suguru, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten as Satoru continues to tease you underneath the material of the shorts. Your eyes widen slightly and your cheeks heat up, anticipation and nervousness mingling in your expression.

“How badly you want it?” asks Satoru, his voice barely a whisper.

Suguru closes his eyes for a moment, his jaw tensing. “I'm dizzy just thinking about it,” he replies, opening his eyes slowly, his gaze fixed and determined on him. He hasn't even dared to look at you. “I want to fuck her so hard and deep, you have no idea.”

“Fuck,” Satoru's fangs are visible for just a second, a wolfish grin warning danger. “Atta boy…” he purrs, sliding his fingers over your jawline to force you to look at him. There's something about Satoru that has always made you feel intimidated. His blue eyes, as deep as the sea, and his cotton-white hair give him such a peculiar appearance, he almost looks like the divine character from some book you must adore. His touch is firm, but not aggressive, and the intensity in his gaze leaves you breathless, as if you're under a spell you can't break. “You still want to fuck my best friend?”

“Satoru…” you beg in a trembling voice.

“Don't be shy, angel. If you can ask for it, it's yours,” he replies with an indulgent smile.

You had discussed this before, once… well, maybe it was twice. You remember it clearly because it's impossible to forget how the idea made you feel. The first time, you were drunk and thought it was all a joke; but when Satoru brought it up again, whispering it close to your ear while you were both sober and cuddled in the dark your room, you thought it was just a fantasy that would fade away and stay just that.

“You know… we used to share everything,” he told you.

The idea of being shared between the two of them is… overwhelming, to say the least. Just thinking about it takes your breath away; both men are huge, tall and muscular, not to mention how handsome they are.

“You know I do. We've talked about it,” you confess in a low voice.

Suguru barely manages to hear you over the hiss of a whistle on the TV, but what he does manage to catch makes his heart beat wildly and his thighs tense.

Satoru examines you up and down, perhaps looking for some trace of doubt about what is about to happen. Finding no sign of uncertainty, his eyes fall on Suguru and, with a wave of his hand, he beckons him closer.

“C'mere, Suguru. Don't be shy.”

Suguru moves like a magnet towards you, shuffling his legs over the couch until his warmth envelops you. Suddenly, you are acutely aware of the heat that has built up in the room, of the sweat on your back and the sticky feeling on your skin. The atmosphere becomes dense and suffocating, each breath feels heavier, Suguru's bare knee touches yours and the friction of your bodies makes your skin burn, intensifying the crushing sensation that overcomes you.

Expectantly, you both look at Satoru as if waiting for the next command anxiously, like animals about to be tamed.

Satoru makes an effort to pretend that he does not enjoy the situation, that the idea of devouring you both in one go does not excite him. However, he takes the first step and reaches for you with his hand, placing it on your cheek to force you to look at him. Lips half-open and eyelashes messy, you feel his lips pull you close and kiss you, filling you with a palpable intensity. Suguru beside you gasps.

Your boyfriend's fingers push at the thick denim fabric of your shorts and your needy core reaches for his open palm, swaying your hips in need of more.

Suguru doesn't know what to do; he seeks Satoru's permission, unsure if it's okay to kiss you, if he can touch you. Fists clenched in his tight shorts, he pauses to watch as Satoru's tongue hungrily thrusts into your mouth, creating a mess of saliva and moans. The intensity of the moment draws you into a new kiss, as his mouth fills with water, caught up in the maelstrom of desire that is unleashed.

In the midst of a new kiss that ends with Satoru gently biting your lower lip, he reaches out to grab his friend's jaw, delicately inviting him towards you. Leaving your mouth inches from his and with your eyes still closed, you barely make out the change in mouths, except for the difference in the way they devour you.

Suguru feels very different; his lips are harder and thicker than your boyfriend's, and his skin, rougher from the recent shave. Unlike Satoru, he sucks your tongue with precision. Each movement, though laden with desire, feels carefully planned, not so messy and the sensation of his mouth molding yours has your pussy soaking wet from satoru's long fingers now playing with your drooling pussy directly.

“You're this wet? Just from kissing him?” Satoru bites your neck and you release suguru's mouth to moan and expose your throat even more. “Such a naughty girl.”

Suguru's kisses mark the other side of your throat making you clench around the pair of digits with which satoru explores your insides, a couple of jerks of his fingers inside you has your back hunched for both of them and just as you begin to ride the wave of your orgasm, so close, the fingers are hastily withdrawn from you to show them to the room as proof of how wet you are. A long transparent string ties his fingers together.

“Look what you did to her, suguru.” Satoru brings the fingers to his friend's mouth who after hesitation circles them with his tongue with his eyes closed and face burning.

The heat is as unbearable as the erection in his shorts and suguru is grateful to feel some pressure on the throbbing bulge while still sucking on his fingers. You spit on your hand and cover his cock in saliva jerking it up and down, satoru drags his fingers out of his friend and sees the desire in his cinnamon eyes, lust overpowering shame.

Satoru spits into his own hand and curls it around suguru's throbbing cock, you masturbate his base, he swirls the sensitive tip, your left hand massaging his balls and the whole haze of new thrills and sensations whip him, and make him dizzy.

“Fuck you,” Suguru gasps with his eyebrows drawn together and mouth a distorted circle looking at his friend.

“Don't you want to cum?” you ask, innocent at the dueling gazes battling in front of you.

“Agh, fuck. No, not yet…” selfishness wanted him to continue, not so soon, he couldn't finish now.

“Oh no?” Satoru presses harder, stroking his slit with his thumb. ”Because you want to cum in her tight pussy, don't you? Fuck man, you don't know how hard she squeezes when she's about to cum, it feels like she wants to keep you there and have you fill her over and over again with your fucking cum.”

“Satoru shut the fuck up!” he yells through his teeth.

“Or do you want to cum in me?” as they both look at each other, his balls twitching, no words to respond other than pent up emotions from years ago.

“Please…” is all he can say, unsure of exactly what he's pleading for.

The waves of pleasure that Satoru's fingers give him descend, allowing the pressure in his lower stomach to cease, and he can breathe normally again.

“Stop,” Satoru says, kissing your temple. You obey instantly, getting Suguru to groan with painful longing, cock twitching visibly a mess of his saliva and precum. “Do you want to ride him?” he asks you directly, catching your gaze as he grabs the back of your neck firmly to give you a soft kiss on the lips.

“I do,” you reply, slightly light-headed from the kiss, the physical contact and the heat. Your breath brushes against his mouth and Satoru looks at you proudly, or so you think; you fail to decipher what's really in those eyes, though many times you can't.

Suguru lies down on the couch just as Satoru orders him to. He finishes removing his shorts awkwardly and hurriedly, becoming completely naked. It's not the first time Satoru has seen him without clothes, but it's the first time he's contemplated him in this way, almost like you are.

Suguru is handsome, that's a fact you can freely acknowledge. Seeing him like this, fully exposed, a sense of awe comes over you. His body is toned, with muscles worked by hours in the gym. His legs are covered with short hair that is growing, and a line of hair descends from his navel to his pelvis, where you find a tangle of short, curly hairs. The sight of his naked body is breathtaking, a mixture of strength and vulnerability that takes your breath away.

A few feet away, satoru jerks his cock with his own hand, long rather than thick, pale pink at the tip with a drop of pre cum in the slit and suguru, head cocked to the side and leaning back on the couch licks his lips in his direction watching him satisfy himself.

You grab his cock with one hand and then, the realization has your body tingling the moment you brush the tip at your needy entrance. All three of you moan in unison, connected together by the same thought and it is lewd, it embarrasses you but at the same time excites you to have the attention of both men pouring into you alone, suguru thrusts his hips upward in search of some kind of release and satoru takes a few short steps forward to admire the scene more closely, then sitting down on the ground a few feet away from you to better admire the scene he has set up for himself.

His cock plunges into you, thrusts and expands your pussy, spills your arousal around the thickness. Suguru is much thicker so you feel so full the moment you're sitting on him completely, his warm hands on your thighs massaging you up and down bringing comfort as he thrusts his hips to grind against your clit.

You hold onto his stomach like an anchor, feeling the sweat make your hair stick to your forehead and tangle around your face. Your hips move harder, riding him with increasing intensity, selfishly seeking climax. suguru finds your clit with the hard pad of his thumb and rubs it back and forth as you do all the work. For a long minute it's just the two of you staring into each other's eyes, the open-mouthed panting chanting turns to grunts and moans that gets lost in the noise of the forgotten match in the background; suguru struggles to concentrate on you, watches your lip being punished by your teeth, your tits covered by the thin fabric of the summer tank top and on the way his finger fiddles your nub of nerves lazily.

You lose yourself in him, in the rhythm at which his hips join yours; you feel his desperation, his hunger. Suguru grunts and carelessly grabs your hips to turn you around and place you now on your back on the couch, your thighs spread wide by his wide hips and his hands make prisoners of your wrists above your head.

You moan, with his forehead against yours and his body bending yours in half you feel like you might break beneath him, he notices, feels you tighten which makes him grin devilishly.

“Too deep?” He asks, as if he doesn't know the answer, pounding you harder and more precisely. “I like it like this, perfect for breeding you…. I like how tight you get.”

“Uh-huh,” you reply biting your lip, sharing the sweat from his frown.

“Tell him,” he orders you without looking at satoru, sharing a secret between your open mouth that can't be heard by your boyfriend.

You had almost forgotten him for a moment, too wrapped up in the fantasy. Turning your attention to satoru you realize that he fucks his cock to the rhythm in which suguru thrusts into you, he licks his lips as he watches you come back to him, to the giddy and disoriented and a smile curving the corners of his mouth appears on his face.

“Hi, angel.” Satoru gasps, “Do you have something to tell me?”

“He's so deep,” you gasp, suguru becoming more beast than human with every second you let him take you, caught up in the idea of fucking his friend's girlfriend, now you were no longer his property, you were his; his for that moment. He pushes back to get a better look at you from another angle and pulls up your tank top and exposes your tits, pinching your nipples without remorse.

“Yeah? And you like it?” you look back at suguru, the bun tying his hair back is starting to unravel, black strands falling down his back and you're not sure which one you want to look at first. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes…”

“I can tell… I love that face you're making, you're going to cum soon….. How about you Suguru, tell me how you feel?”

His eyes wander to your crotch, to your panties pulled aside so he can slip inside you, and he loses his rhythm for a moment as he watches his cock thrust in and out of you. He spits right on your clit for extra lubrication and takes his thumb to start massaging you, squeezing even tighter the tension binding your guts.

“She's so beautiful, and this fucking pussy, god…” his back arches and he rolls his eyes, feeling his own orgasm come hard. “She's squeezing me so hard.”

“Don't cum in her,” satoru warns.

Suguru bites his lip coming back to the present, the violent sound of wet skins meeting and the invisible steam of heat overwhelming him and urging him to take his own orgasm soon.

“Suguru…”

Another warning.

Satoru's voice sounds so sweet yet so commanding that it's almost annoying. It's just like before, when he ordered him things like he was his puppet and he was always so grateful to obey him, just to remain his friend. But you feel so good now, so tight, so wet, he doesn't remember the last time he fucked someone raw that nothing feels more like it now than filling your pussy with his load however, he forces himself to pull his cock inside you and fuck his cock on top of your stomach while you watch him with eyes full of adoration, he lets his cum run on your stomach making puddles on your belly button while someone behind him shouts “goaaaaaal”.

Then Suguru leans over, his fingers tangling in the mess that is your hair as his hair trails down his sweaty back, this with the intention of kissing you but he feels a brute hand on his shoulder pulling him away from victory, meeting that warm bluish gaze that reminds him of nostalgia.

“No kisses… those are another thing you'll have to ask for like a good boy.”

#wr #geto x reader #geto smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #stsg x reader #cw cucking #cw objectification

531 notes · View notes

munsster · 2 years

Note

hii!! i'd like to request a steve harrington x fem!reader fic pls <33 reader confesses to steve, but he says he doesn't like her. then reader's all 'okay fine, i'm gonna move on' and when she actually does that, steve is 🥺 lots of angst please and some steve grovelling teehee <33

gut feeling

A/N: okay yes 😏 i screwed this up the littlest bit, but i hope it still tickles ur fancy. also i’ve seen this done for king!steve and i wanted to write it for s4 steven

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have big feelings for Steve, he’s just not sure he feels the same way. 3.6k words.

Warnings: angst, but it resolves into fluff, unrequited love trope, lots of feelings, friends to lovers?, CURSING!, italics, established friendship, feat. Keith 😑

"You think it would be gross if we kissed?"

Steve thinks you might actually sound hurt, but he also thinks the face he's making is hilarious beyond belief: kind of contorted and screwed inward, nose scrunched and trying really hard to batten down a grin. You glare at him from the passenger's seat, arms crossed tight over your green Family Video vest.

You think he's wonderful despite his naiveté. If only he knew how handsome you thought he was, all caramel locks and big brown eyes and the kind of smile that reaches his eyes before he's even thought of it. No wonder he has an ego up to the moon. No wonder he still manages to weasel his way into the creases and crevices of any living creature's heart. Even yours. Hell, especially yours.

"Yeah, duh!"—and he's so sure of it, you could cry—"You're like the little sister I never had!"

You chuckle but you look like you're about to hurl yourself out of the car or get yourself arrested for manslaughter. Thank God he's only a block away from your house, or he'd never see the light of day again. Does he really think of you like that? The soft laughter peters out into a grating silence that burns right down your throat and feels like hard metal settling in your lungs.

He doesn't dare glance over at you. He only bites down hard around nothing and grimaces, eyes set hard on the lines dashing beneath the grill of his car. Jesus Christ, he does not think of you like that. And he begs whatever stupid pride is keeping him steady in this nonexistent pissing contest to leave it be, but its jaw is set in the tender meat of the game.

"Don't have to be so jovial about it," you grumble.

"What?"

"Mine's on the left," you grumble, nodding out the window. Oh, he's definitely in trouble. You only ignore him like this when he's done something boyish to a fault.

"I know. I drive you home every—hey!"

"Bye," you coo, booking it up the steps to your door, refusing to turn over your shoulder for fear that you'll burst into tears upon seeing him smile or frown or crack the slightest look of confusion.

He watches you slam the door and rolls the passenger window up with a frustrated sigh. Where the Hell did that come from and why. All while you're sitting against the foot of your bed, chattering into the phone at Robin, still wearing your uniform and tugging at strands of your hair as expletives weave themselves between every three words.

"Oh my Fucking God, I'm so fucking embarrassed right now, Robs—Does he—? Does he think I'm some sort of fuckin' baby? I just don't—"

"He's just being Steve, okay? He probably didn't mean it—"

"The way he looked at me, Robin, I felt like a fucking imbecile. Of all the dickheads in the world I could fall for, my heart chose Harrington? Maybe I'm the idiot." You sigh and kick your feet out, the frustration winding up new nerves and letting them go like tight springs to fling out over your body.

She sighs and it rattles through the grainy speaker. "You're not an idiot; he has his moments. Don't beat yourself up, you know how he gets. He's probably not thinking straight, just... tell him? The worst he can say is—"

"That I'm like a sister to him? Oh, how delightful. That's even worse than just flat out admitting I'm unattractive."

"You're not unattractive, don't do that."

"I am to him," you groan.

"Hey," she hums after a beat of crackling silence. You close your eyes and grip the sickly yellow receiver a little tighter.

"I really like him."

"I know."

"And it sucks."

"I know." The other end rustles and you let out a curt sigh just as you move to stand. "I love you, and I'm here for you. Especially when dumb boys make you feel like shit. You'll always be the most amazing and most beautiful girl in my life, don't forget that."

"Thank you. I'll see you, Robs."

"Take it easy."

—

Steve wakes up to an ache in his neck and a soreness in his knuckles. You didn't call him last night. And he's assuming you didn't call him before school this morning because his alarm clock flashes eleven, first period starts at eight-thirty, and the tone his ancient landline emits is shrill enough to deafen a man. Let alone wake him up in a cold sweat. He concocts a sick feeling in his stomach of burnt orange shame and maroon guilt because he has to wait until closing shift tonight to explain himself to you.

But by then, he's feeling spiteful. You weren't home when he went to pick you up and he waited ten minutes and knocked on the door in bulk. Until someone who was not you answered and told him that you'd gotten a ride with some jerk from the Hawkins High football team. That's not how it was originally said, but that's how he heard it. So you're avoiding him? It makes him spit up a little in his mouth, and he's going about twenty over the speed limit the entire way to make it on time.

By the time he can fling open the glass door and hear the sound of the tiny bell, he spots you in the back corner with a stack of tapes under your arm. Listening to music. To drown him out. And it makes him frown. Six hours. That's how long he'd have to endure this, then he could go home and not call you and not be able to sleep.

The casette in your Walkman can only run for so long, right? But he watches you rewind it after an hour and a half and slumps against the front desk when you grab a new stack of tapes from behind him. He simmers down after the first half of the shift, and of course, the fact that you won't talk to him rubs him the wrong way, but what's even worse is that now you're bumming rides off of losers on the worst football team in all of Indiana.

He gets worked up thinking about that guy's motivation and how many times he probably tried to make a pass at you. Steve would never do that to you. Even if he wanted to, he's a gentleman at heart. He could beat that jerk to a pulp just imagining him giving you the look. God forbid that sucker puts his hands on you. Steve would get charged with battery before ever letting that happen.

It's not like he can say anything to you about it either. He's pissed, and he knows himself. He'd get all angry and confrontational, and you deserve better than that. It's his fault you got there first, and it's his fault you got to stocking, and it's his fault you're tuning him out. But he didn't think what he said last night would be worth all that trouble.

"If you keep up the optic blast, I'm gonna buy you a ruby-quartz visored monocle." And that droning voice could only belong to one overbearing manager.

"What do you need, Keith?" Steve grumbles, and out of the corner of his eye, he catches you looking to the front of the store to watch the encounter with a smirk.

"Duty calls, Harrington. Corporate sent us more shelf space. Need someone to unload it into the office," Keith murmurs, shooting a glance your way, "And, uh... it's kind of unwieldy, so get the kid to help you out."

It makes Steve's eye twitch because you're not some kid. And if you heard Keith refer to you as such, you'd unleash a fleet of curses on him. Only Steve is allowed to call you that. Because it's funny, duh. You're a year younger than him, obviously he's going to use that to his comedic advantage. Oh.

He lets out a sigh—"alright"—and leaves Keith to man the front while he skirts to the back of the store and leads you by the hand through the office.

"'The Hell, Harrington?" you hiss, but you keep your fingers locked between Steve's, abandoning the rest of the tapes on Keith's desk and jogging to catch up with his stride. As forward and demanding as his grip may be, you have to admit, the warmth of his palm is comforting and it makes your heart race because you've never held hands with Steve before. And in any other circumstance, you might've been able to enjoy it a little more.

"Keith told me to tell you that you have to help me bring a shelf in from the truck."

"Oh, I have to?" you bark, now pulling your hand away and putting your headphones around your neck once you exit through the back door with him. "And you didn't think to give me a warning before yanking on my arm?"

"Yes, you have to, and maybe if you weren't listening to that shit so loud, you would've been in the loop." It comes out far more harsh than he intended, and that was exactly what he was afraid of happening in a confrontation with you. His brow softens, and the tension in his upper back and jaw dissipates into his own self-pity party. "And I didn't yank on your arm. Or at least I didn't mean to, so I'm sorry for that much."

Steve hops up into the truck and offers you a hand you don't take as much as you both wish you would have. Because he looks like a kicked puppy, and you have to stop yourself from cheering yourself on. Maybe this will be your first literal step towards getting over him. Once and for all.

After about fifteen minutes of heaving and ho-ing, the two of you manage to haul the shelf into the office as per Keith's request. He was right: it was unwieldy. The awkward grip spots caused a lot of overlap, and you both flinched away from the physical contact in a matter of milliseconds. But Steve couldn't deny he felt bad, and you couldn't deny that you definitely still had feelings for him.

You grab your previously abandoned stack of tapes to scurry out of the office, but Steve stops you by the elbow. And you glare back at him.

"Sorry. The... yanking, I know"—he shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down—"Look, I'm not entirely sure what happened last night in the car, but it clearly made you uncomfortable, and I'd like to apologize."

He can see the neurons firing when he looks you in the eye, but he can also see that his apology wasn't effective in the slightest. Because you're still anger-ridden and fuming at him. You put your headphones on and go back to restocking shelves.

He checks the digital clock above the door. Two hours till eleven. Great.

And they creep by like refrigerated molasses. Second by second. Every time he glances at the clock, only a minute has passed. Eventually, though, he starts cleaning up for closing: vacuuming, cleaning the windows, fixing the display. And he finds himself getting a little more efficient at checking tapes back in and rewinding them only so you'll cruise by the front—scowling at him, but nonetheless at him—to grab a new stack and shelf it.

Five minutes to closing and a sleek, blue sedan pulls into the parking lot, and you practically beam at it, grinning and skipping to the front. You grab your bag from under the counter next to Steve's hip and shove your Walkman into it.

"You know, my car works perfectly fine," he grumbles, "don't have to replace me with some football jerk." He knows that struck a nerve because your smile immediately flickers away into a squint.

"That football jerk is bilingual, a painter, and lets me listen to the music I like in his car."

"But that's not the rules," he whines, desperately defending himself against some sports guy who's probably taking advantage of you.

"Well, I like him and he's nice to me." You sling your bag over your shoulder triumphantly, marching towards the door.

Steve is aghast at the implication. He thought you liked listening to the radio. Plus he took Spanish and art for the required two years, it's not that great of an achievement.

Still, he sputters out, "Yeah, well—"

You wave over your shoulder. "Later, Steve."

Since when did he become such a loser.

He watches jerk-face open the car door for you then glance over to wave at him with a perfect smile and perfect hair and perfect manners. What an asshole. Steve does not wave back.

—

"That's the kinda guy she likes?" he fusses into the phone, palming his face while Robin chuckles on the other line. This whole time he thought for sure you liked the self-assured, cocky, college-age boy type. And now you're dating a high schooler. Come on, jerk-face is not even that good looking.

"First of all, they're not dating. Second of all, don't lie to make yourself feel better; even I can admit he's basically a Greek god," Robin says, shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth. "Third... why do you care? You’re acting like it’s your job to protect her, but it’s not. She’s an adult now, you know, she can take her of herself.”

He lets out a puff of air through his nose, blinking hard and leaning into the pale yellow receiver. Then mumbling: "She told you."

And she replies, cheerily: "Yup."

"Well—! I just... don't want to see her get hurt. I know that type of guy. I used to be that type of guy. He's bad news, I can tell."

"Right,” Robin scoffs, “It's definitely not because you love her.”

"I don't love her. She's just a baby, and we don't even like the same things. It would never work out between us, there's no connection." They both know it’s a lame excuse, but it’s worked up until this moment. It’s worked since the day you met. You’re too young, the end. Sure, you can be cute sometimes, but you’re also a pain in the ass and you two could never get along long enough to stitch together a real relationship.

But Robin sees through all of that shit. And she’s over it.

“Okay, maybe, but she listens when you talk about cars, and you buy the albums she likes even when she only mentions them once. Plus, you both love Dustin like he's an extra limb”—she’s right, you love that kid to death and Lord knows Steve looks after him like a son—“I think as much as you wretch and complain over her being too young and the connection not 'being there', it seems like you try an awful lot to get her to like you."

He immediately rejects the idea with a scoff.

"Of course I’d want a cool person to like me, old fuckin’ habits die hard. But that's all. She's cool and has a good sense of style and tells the best jokes and makes me feel smart and listens to me, and right now I'm feeling pretty crazy because maybe I do love her and I blew it because... because? Because I don’t know why—but she's probably sitting in some jerk's car listening to her favorite songs and watching him paint the sunset while speaking Spanish or whatever."

Robin closes her eyes, and Steve’s annoyed by the fact that he can hear her smirking. "Jesus Christ, I need to start charging you idiots for my time"—and she sighs—"Just... tell her all that cheese. And maybe throw in an apology or two. I don't know, do what you usually do when you pick up girls.”

He’s frustrated. And annoyed. But he throws a thanks at her anyway and stomps down the stairs and to his beamer. It’s not until he’s shrouded in the piercing light of the convenience store that he realizes three things: he’s still in his work uniform, it’s midnight, and he’s pretty sure he does love you. He grabs a bouquet, not even realizing it’s a bouquet of amaryllis and baby’s breath—he’d prefer roses, but ‘tis not the season, as the cashier told him.

Minutes later, he’s muttering under his breath like he’s mad, waiting for someone to answer your door. And thank God you do.

“Steve—?”

“Oh, shit, did I—were you—?”

“Oh, no, I was just…”—thinking about him—“nothin’. What’re you doing here?”

He pushes a furious hand through his hair, then tucks a chunk behind his ear, worrying at his bottom lip. More nervous than he’s been in his whole life. Then he flashes those soft brown eyes at you, and you’re toast. You step onto your doormat and shut the door behind you because he starts into his sentence like a blazing fire:

"I feel so stupid, and I’m sorry for saying you're like a little sister to me; I don’t believe that, and it couldn’t be further from the truth. You're not like a sister to me, you're like the only thing that matters and I feel like I wanna learn another language for you and take a cooking class for you and listen to your music with you. I just, I mean I’m trying to say you make me want to be a better person, and I feel like I’m already a better person whenever I’m around you. I... what I’m saying—and I promise I’m getting to it—is that I’m sorry for being so stupid and not seeing it before, but I think you're beautiful and I'd be honored if you'd forgive me and maybe consider letting me take you out sometime. Like on a date."

He’s breathing heavily, looking and feeling manic, and your eyes are wide as you slowly process his confession. It goes down like sweet wine, floral down your throat and settling in your tummy like candy. But still: what the fuck? Is he insane? Are you insane?

His hair is flopped to one side, and his work vest is snug around his shoulders. You step forward slowly, and the creases in his forehead seem to go smooth. And you point to the bouquet.

“For me?”

Steve glances down. "Oh, yeah, got em for you. Sorry they're not roses, it's not—"

"I love them, thank you."

He nods. And you smile. And despite how beautiful the soft pink and white flowers are, you’re not particularly focused on their safety when you hook your arms beneath his and rope him into a hug. It’s clearly just what he needed when he goes pliant and heavy against your chest, smiling into your neck as his hands wrap over your shoulders.

"I think we might both be stupid,” you whisper.

He chuckles. "Yup. Just a couple of stupids. Geez, what kinda pair are we?" You both pull away. Only to look at each other squarely. To see a smile creep and creep across the other’s face. And he cocks a brow and says, "By the way, worst twenty-four hours of my life—"

And that’s saying something after the last three years.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Steve, I was just so—"

"I know."

"So confused and disappointed, it was—"

"Torture, yeah, don't even think about doing that ever again,” he teases, pinching your side and scrunching his nose when you pinch him back.

"Yeah. Well, never tell me I’m like a little sister to you ever again.”

Gross.

"I don't plan on it"

With the slow bat of your lashes, and the tender curve of your lips, he can’t not think about kissing you. Not in this light. Not under the meddling moon, and not holding your waist like cupping pools of honey.

Then you look away. For all the shit you talk, he manages to make you far more shy than he ever anticipates. And it gives him butterflies to see you duck away.

"You know, I think you're pretty beautiful yourself, Harrington.”

Oh, he’s blushing now. The blood gushes hot to his face, he could sweat buckets right here and now. You can probably hear his heartbeat. Jesus Christ, what’ve you done to him? You can tell he’s nervous when he chuckles softly. "Does this mean I can start giving you rides again?"

You pretend to weigh your options. As if there would ever be a better alternative. "Only if you let me play my music sometimes.”

"Absolutely. I never liked the radio much anyway."

You let go of him only to cradle your bouquet in both hands, admiring the petals while Steve puts his hands back in his pockets.

"Then I'll see you later," he says. Grinning ear to ear, mind you.

"Yeah,” you coo, “I’ll see you."

With one hand on his shoulder, you plant a kiss on his willing cheek and let him go. But before he can make it to his car you holler, “Wait!” and he jogs back over to you.

"Did I forget somethin’?"

“Yeah,” you poke, "you forgot about our date."

He tilts his head a little, brows furrowed. "Our... our date? What do you mean our… Ohhhh”—he nods in understanding, suddenly hit with a wave of excitement and embarrassment—"Does tomorrow work? We could grab lunch or dinner or something and maybe stop by the arcade or—oh, the fair's in town, that could be kinda fun, unless you don't want to, I mean—"

"Steve?" you hum.

“Mhm?”

"I'd love to."

And suddenly his ego is miles through the roof; he's nodding and grinning and it’s like he can’t wait to wake up tomorrow just to see you again.

"Me too. Okay. Yeah! I'll see you then."

"Bye, Stevie.” You give him a small wave, and the shroud of plastic around the bouquet crinkles like the corners of his eyes at the idea of tomorrow.

masterlist

#steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #unrequited crush #stranger things #x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #fluff #steve harrington #st4 #stranger things 4 #x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #angst #best friends to lovers #friends to lovers

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unicyclehippo · 2 months

Text

ok so i submitted a story for a competition & didn't get far but i was pretty happy with it so imma post it here for y'all. pls enjoy!

YEAR OF THE WOLF

Blood and shampoo wash pink down the shower drain. My body aches, back hot with pain. I gotta stretch more, I think, before remembering what time of month it is.

I’m not stupid, I want that to be known up top.

Tired? Yes. A bit forgetful now and then? Certainly. Overly reliant on blind optimism? Of course. Who can afford for things to go wrong these days? But stupid? No. Not about this, anyway. I’ve known for almost a decade that I’m a werewolf. I just thought if I ignored it long enough it would stop, or at least stay low on the list of important things I had to deal with—somewhere between turning thirty and the world burning down around our ears.

Still, it manages to take me by surprise each month. I see the blood, feel the shift-pull-crack of bones and vitals, the wet throb of viscera and organs, as my body reshapes itself. The wolf and I share a space not big enough for two; something must give way.

I lose time daydreaming about it. Transforming. My only plan for the day is work, maybe video games later, cooking dinner. I could call in sick. I could clear away the bathmat and towels and fall to my hands and knees and change into something bloody and terrible and wonderful, I could lay myself down on the soft carpet in the sunrays, decadent, I could leap from my balcony, powerful, and lope away into the bush off the track to explore the silver-blue of the leaves and the cathedral termite mounds, I could—

The shower pipes groan, rattle, and spit freezing water down onto me.

I don’t transform.

I towel off. The mirror shows me a human with the same soft features as ever. Shampoo suds clinging to my shoulders. Hair cut short and plastered down on chalk-white skin paler than usual. The doctor warned me low iron was a side-effect of transformation but I look myself over for another cause. Lift my arms, twist to check my back. There’s a pimple or two where my binder digs in but no injuries. I promise the doctor in my head I’ll bring it up at our next appointment.

My doctor is a careful woman, dedicated and precise. She sits primly and dresses well—her blouse is fashionable, flowery, her trousers professional and practical. She keeps notes in a leatherbound book and her thoughts securely behind her eyes. She asked me to keep track of any changes Inoticed. I pull out a crumpled receipt where I’d scrawled some notes.

tired

hungry

headaches

more dreams than usual

tired—oh I already wrote that down. still true

irritated way more by stuff?

jaw hurts?

‘Alright,’ she says, writing it down on her page about me.

I sit hunched opposite her, then fix my posture, then let my shoulders droop again, conscious of being too broad, too big. In the time it takes for her to commit a few brief notes to paper, I’m struggling not to get distracted by the lights and their electric buzz—the popping stop and start as the filaments crackle in the bulbs. My eyes wander over neat stacks of paperwork, a penholder with all the pens pointed in the same direction.

‘We’re going to order a blood test. You’re right, the fatigue and headaches could be an indicator of iron deficiency.’

‘Okay.’

‘Do you know if there’s a history?’

‘Of…iron deficiency?’

She smiles. ‘Of lycanthropy.’

The question makes my head spin. There’s been some excitement about there being some genetic predisposition to lycanthropy (unconfirmed), which half my friends were leery of, seeing the research as another way for hunters to exterminate us, and half took to romantic spirals, daydreaming about their ancestors being just like them. But the doc is asking about, like, my parents and grandparents, and it makes me laugh.

‘No. No way.’ I think harder. Is it possible? My maternal grandparents, definitely not. But my dad’s parents…I don’t know that well. ‘I could ask, maybe.’

After the three haphazard sessions we’ve had stretching across eleven months, which chiefly feature my repeated and sustained reluctance to talk, she indicates her doubt with a quiet raised brow.

It’s fair. I don’t tend to do things I don’t want to do, even if they’re important. Sometimes, especially if they’re important.

At the end of our fifteen-minute session, she walks me to the door and beneath the stench of eucalyptus-scented cleaner that makes my nose itch and head ache, I catch a whiff of her cologne. Wood pine and wild.

I think about it all day.

Has she helped me because she’s like me? The thought races ahead of me, tempting; I sprint after it. I wonder what she wears at home. Does she google boxers for bed because they seem so comfortable? Does she veer at the last moment to Boyfriend shorts! Now in satin – for HER! Or does she kick the world off at the front door next to her shoes and just…exist. Is she like me? Just a person who does things? Or is she a woman who does things? Or a person who does woman things or a woman who does womanly things or a woman who does things knowing they’re not womanly and caring or not caring? Does she splinter the cage that would contain her and let the hungry animal of her body carry her to meat and sleep and hunting and to the warmth of her partner at rest?

Is she like me?

As a kid, I wanted to take karate. My brother wanted to sing. Somehow, I ended up in the music class. It was in a demountable that creaked, off-key, with every step and stunk of the creek next door. The singing teacher had a red round face and told me not to sing too loud—I was practicing to be part of the choir, I should be part of the group. That group was made up entirely of nervous and near-silent girls who shivered with the desire above all else not to stand out. (I learned that part well.)

On the other side of school, my brother stood in karate class with a teacher who ignored him and older boys who picked on him—he was short back then, with baby fat still on his cheeks, and had a close relationship with boredom and distraction that came from being smarter than most.

Once we figured out the joke being played on us, our places switched, we made a pact to teach each other what we learned. It didn’t last. Within three lessons, I spent more time on the walk to the classroom than in class; I dawdled in the fields and by the creek, tracking beetles and digging for dinosaur bones in the mud. When I did arrive, it was twenty-five minutes late with dirt under my nails and finally the teacher told me not to show up. My brother took a faster approach and called the teacher a moron. Mum had to pick him up early from class and neither of us learned very much.

My gran lives hours away and I never got the impression she liked me much. I think about sitting in her drawing room, the sticky-sugar smell from bottles of fancy port on the shelf, and her sitting opposite, eyes hawklike, mouth pursed and tongue sharp. I don’t visit her. I think about asking my dad instead and, while he does like me, he doesn’t like werewolves and I’m not ready to risk exile.

I get my blood drawn. The doctor prescribes iron pills and congratulates me on my teeth coming in.

My mother doesn’t like my sharp teeth or short hair or the way I sit. I want to tell her I didn’t do anything to my teeth; that if anyone is to blame for the handsome jut of my canines, the neat, careful way they can tear flesh from bone, it’s her. She made me. But saying stuff like that only opens up the room for more questions.

‘Do you like it? Looking like that?’

It will hurt her if I say yes. When you are a daughter, wanting to change means you don’t want to become your mother, which means you don’t love her.

I can’t say no.

The wolf stirs. It wants me to say yes. It loves fiercely and loves me most of all. But it isn’t the one who has to live here—work, be a daughter, a sister. It won’t be the one who has to listen to my mother tell me to be sure before I tell anyone else because there’s no going back and people will hate me for it, just for being, and that she can’t support me doing that to myself, that it’s against the god she’s never thought twice about, and has someone talked me into it?

I’m not ready for that.

‘It’s just teeth,’ I say.

She shakes her head but doesn’t ask any more questions. I think she’s scared I’ll tell her the truth.

am i a coward?

My friend Luna takes a long while to answer.

While I wait, I wash the dishes I’ve been “soaking” for three days; the kitchen smells of dish soap when I’m done and the world is a little cleaner. Outside, my balcony is drenched in sunlight. I make my coffee and sit out there, turning my nose to the wind. Somewhere close by, someone is cooking chicken loaded up with paprika. It’s more accurate to say they’re burning chicken. Next door, my neighbour digs through the rich dirt of their garden and plants rosemary and lavender.

My phone lights up.

No, she says. Then, Why do you ask?

the whole werewolf thing. i won’t transform, wont tell my family.

This reply is much faster. Definitely not.

i feel like one

First of all, you transform when it’s right & as much or little as you want & that changes from person to person. Second, being safe is not cowardly.

yeah

Do you want to tell them?

The coffee is gorgeously strong. After a few gulps, I feel like someone has brushed the cobwebs out of my head.

it’s like. there’s this version of me in their heads that isn’t real yknow. like im not a person im a cloud in person shape & sometimes they get a glimpse of my hand or whatever. & its safe inside the cloud its harder to hit me but . they cant see me

sorry i know this is teenager shit

In the distance, a fire alarm starts to blare.

No it’s good. I get it, obviously. And you know my parents were awful when I told them but we go running every month now. The question isn’t “am I a coward”. The question is, are you prepared to confront that version of yourself in their heads? Are you ready for it to change?

i wish i knew. how it would change i mean. bc i feel like if i knew for Sure that they would take it badly then that’s one thing & i could deal w that. & if i knew theyd be fine w it i could deal with That but. i don’t know. & its freaking me out. but it’s also like…ok i don’t live w them, i’ve got a job, idont rely on them for anything. what real bad consequences could there be?

Dots pop up at the bottom of the screen. They disappear after a minute, then reappear, as Luna takes her time to answer. Finally, she says,

By announcing the real version of yourself, you open yourself up to vulnerability. Things that didn’t bother you before will feel uncomfortable or hurt because it touches you. And when you change the way that you exist in the eyes of people who are supposed to love you unconditionally, you invite the possibility that they will reveal the love was in fact conditional & not for you, that you somehow failed to live up to the person they imagined you to be

mate i’m already scraping the bottom lol

You’re wonderful, Luna says, because she can tell when a joke isn’t really a joke. Her worst trait. If they can’t see that, it doesn’t mean it’s not true.

yeah

You don’t have to tell everyone. You could pick whoever would take it best & get someone on your side. When I take too long to answer, Luna sends a string of photos—her dogs, her family in matching hiking shirts, the view of the nearly full moonon her side of the world. I’m on your side, she says. Always. Let me know how it goes.

The full moon burns, beckons. We are both gloriously awake this time. I have never been more awake. The sky is a black lake and when it rains we taste space and stars and smog. The stairs are slick with the rain. On all fours we are sure, quick, eager! The grass is waiting for us! Splendid! Everything is incandescent in silver, including me. The grass—dew-wet, green scent full in our nose—invites us to roll in it, sticks its seedlings to our fur, tagalongs on our adventure. We run! Smell everything! ticklegrass wetmoss possum pee BUG rough brick mud SPIKY plant big tree lavender dog smell road gutter old leaves bird feathers vinegar shARP on my tongue bag crinkles between our teeth

The days’ heat still smoulders on the surface of the road. We are standing in the centre of it, massive, when a car crests the hill. It stops, engine rumbling and blue-glare lights illuminating us. It waits for us to cross the road before driving on. The driver stares from their seat. In one easy jump, we clear the fence and disappear.

Three more streets and the road ends. The world is huge, bigger than I could have imagined. There’s dirt here! dirt mud rocks beetles scuffling under the leaves koala musk leads to claw marks at the base of trees.

The wolf likes it when I’m awake. It wants to show me the world. Look, its questing nose says, look what you miss out on when you sleep.

It takes us to a termite mound and we listen to them sing.

We stay out all night, trekking through the pocket of national park. I am the biggest thing in the forest. Nothing frightens me. We find a creek filled with every fascination the world has to offer. Ten thousand wet stones, bottle caps, an ill-tempered fish.

When the sun rises, I am sore and covered in blood. I call my brother to pick me up. I stand by the edge of the park to wait for him; at the bottom of the hill, the highway stretches out like a grey branch, cars buzzing along it like bugs. A firefly splits off from it, flying towards me.

The yellow of the headlights cuts through the trees. Inside the car, my brother jumps when he sees me and the light reflecting off my eyes. The wolf is still awake and we move fast and strong to the passenger side door.

He knows.

I can tell. Smell it on him, see it in his uneasy posture. He knows and still I can’t say it. It feels like I’ve swallowed a bird whole, alive. It trembles, stuck in my throat. When I think about talking it pecks at my tongue and if I open my mouth, if I try to explain, he will see my bloody tongue and the bird and he’ll see me all wrong, all the ugly brutish parts of me I’d like to keep hidden, if I can.

The wolf is still awake. It isn’t scared; it is massive and powerful, it can bite through anything, it can run forever without getting tired. We can. And if there is ever a time to talk to my brother, to let him know who I am, it is now.

I do not want him to think I am a bloody-mouthed girl.

I want him to know I am not a coward. I am myself, a werewolf, alive and finally happy for it.

The wolf yawns. I catch a glimpse of my teeth in the mirror, sharp.

‘Hey.’ Of all the ways to break a very tense silence, it’s not the worst. ‘Thank you. For picking me up.’

He risks a look at me, away from the road. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah.’

A muscle tics in his cheek as he chews on silence. He’s upset that I won’t say more. So am I. I want to. The bird is in the way. I have always had to trick myself into talking; it is never easy, not in doctor’s office, not in my parents’ home, not in the forest, or my brother’s car.

We slow. Ahead, the traffic lights paint the dashboard red. The car shivers around us, idling. I can feel it shake through my bare feet, dirty and scratched up from the rocks, pressed to the rubber floor mats.

The first word comes out like a pulled tooth.

‘I—need to say.’ He glances my way. I think, briefly, about jumping out the window but the light turns green so I can’t. I have to talk instead. ‘I’m a werewolf.’

He drives. I realise he must have been waiting to talk, really talk, because this is the first time I’ve been in his car without music playing.

‘I think the proper term is lycanthrope,’ he says, finally.

‘Dude.’

‘Sorry. Just, medically speaking...’ He shakes his head. Drums his fingers against the wheel. ‘How long?’

‘I dunno.’ I do. A decade of knowing and doing nothing about it. Almost a year of thinking very hard about it and doing slightly more.

He knows me better than my doctor; both his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, entirely unconvinced.

‘I’m still me,’ I tell him, because that’s what everyone says in books and movies. I guess it’s what you’re supposed to say. What I want to say is that I’m more me than ever. What I want him to say is thank you, and I’m his favourite person, and that he understands how hard it was for me to share but he’s proud of me. But I would have to ask for that and the bird in my throat won’t budge.

‘Okay. Wow. So… Are you going to move? Change your name? Are you going to get claws? A tail?’

‘Okay, never ask me that again.’ He laughs. ‘And no. I don’t think so. I kind of like that it’s not super obvious. It’s no-ones business but mine.’

‘And mine now.’ I think he’s smiling, a little. ‘Why did you tell me? If you don’t want anyone to know?’

I wish I was still a wolf. If I were a wolf, I would howl and people would understand. The tenor, the tremble, the shivering cadence. There would be no need for picking the right words, no eye contact, no consequences for an ill-timed joke, no shame for feeling everything so big and weird, like there’s a forest in my chest and a songbird choir blocking up my throat. My hands itch as the claws retract under my skin and I fight to keep from scratching, fidgeting. I turn to stare out the window.

To his reflection in the glass, I say, ‘I want you to like me.’

‘Of course I like you—’

‘I’m louder like this,’ I whisper. He looks unconvinced, which is fair. I’m still hiding. ‘Messy. Bigger and stubborn and hairier and angrier. It’s not the wolf. I’m like that too. I wanna be like that. Real. I’m so—I’m so tired. All the time. I don’t want to pretend anymore. I want to be me and I want you to like me as me.’

My back aches as everything in me crunches back into place. The wolf is asleep and it has left me alone with my words and my brother.

‘I really love you,’ he tells me as he pulls up outside my house. He puts his hand warm on mine. He doesn’t flinch at the blood. He hugs me close. Plucks a leaf from my hair.

My brother offers to come with me to tell our parents. It probably would have been smart but I’m still wary. If it goes bad…I don’t want him to see that.

‘How did it happen?’ my mother asks when I’m done, like it’s something you can catch.

For a moment, I entertain the thought of lying.

Do you remember my uni friend? Verne? Well he’s part of a pack and if he brings in three new werewolves over three months, and they each bring in three new werewolves, he gets a bonus. Why? Are you interested in this exciting new life opportunity?

I can’t joke about it yet. Worst outcome, she thinks I’m serious about it being a some kind of cult. Less worse but still bad outcome, she thinks I’m being unserious about the whole thing. Nevermind that I have thought about it every day for ten years, this inevitable confrontation, this moment where I have to explain myself, defend my existence, back up my claims with proof and research like it’s my thesis. I tell her,

‘It just made sense.’

She likes that less than she would have if I’d joked about it, gets all stiff and pinched.

‘It doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t understand where this is coming from—you’re human. You’re not –‘ She shakes her head. ‘Maybe if you left the house more often. These things you’re imagining about yourself, if you were around more people…you’re not like that. You’re lovely,’ she insists. ‘You’re not that.’

It should hurt to hear. It probably does, in a way I’ll feel five years down the line, and I’ll wish that I had bit back, told her that just because she thinks there’s something wrong with me doesn’t make it true.

My dad hasn’t said anything.

When I look at him, he’s staring down at his plate. He eats everything on it, even the tomatoes he usually tries to hide under the broccoli stems. Then he stands, puts it in the dishwasher, and walks away.

‘It’ll pass,’ my mother tells me. ‘You’ll come to your senses. This won’t last—don’t do anything permanent. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.’

Don’t give in.

Don’t transform.

Don’t smile wide enough to show your teeth.

Don’t tell anyone else.

I realise I’ve been trying my hardest not to do anything, like being nothing would be preferable to being me. When did I get the idea that to starve would be better than anyone seeing me hungry?

‘I don’t want to hide anymore.’

‘But it’s no-one’s business,’ she insists. ‘I don’t understand why anyone needs to know, I mean, I don’t go around telling people I’m human.’

The words sound different coming from her mouth but they’re the same.

It’s no-ones business but mine. That’s what I told my brother and I thought I meant it but now I think I was still scared. Biting off bits of myself before anyone pulled out the silverware and cut it from me.

There’s a bird in my throat and the little bastard is choking me. It’s not fair. I don’t want to die without saying what I mean for once.

I bite down on it, blood between my teeth.

‘It’s not the same thing,’ I snap. There’s a gorgeous growl to my words I’ve never heard before. No one told me that would happen. I love it. I love the sound of my voice. ‘No one tries to kill you because you’re human.’

‘Exactly!’

When I stand up fast, chair scraping against the floor, she freezes. Caught between telling me to pick up the chair first and not knowing how to talk to a monster in her daughter’s skin.

It hadn’t occurred to me that telling the truth wouldn’t change just me.

Staring back at my mother, I find I don’t much like the woman I see. If that’s what awaited me, I’m glad to have changed. The world is huge and beautiful and painful and I am kinder, stronger, hardier for it.

I pick up my bag from the floor.

‘I’m the same person, it’s just now you know I’m a werewolf. When we went out for lunch last week? Werewolf. When I got you groceries when you were sick? Werewolf. Every birthday, holiday, every vacation we’ve had since I was nineteen? Werewolf.’

She looks sick. Puts a hand on the counter to steady herself.

When I get home, I’m going to curl up in my closet for a week. The bird is going to come back any second now with backup. Eagles, this time. ‘I’ve had a really long time to think about this and you haven’t so I’m - I’ll give you time. But you should know that I’m happy and healthy and safe. All the things you said you wanted for me.’

As I leave her house, maybe for the last time, I hope she’ll call. I don’t know if she will.

I have been sleeping better and dreaming more. In my dreams, I am always the same. I have a wolf head, with sharp teeth and keen eyes. I sing with a powerful voice that has unsettled for centuries. I cannot see my pack but I can hear them out there, howling. My body is the same; the only difference are the claw marks across my flat chest, red and raw and careful. I am not dead, only transformed.

#tagging my stories #original fiction #werewolves my beloveds.......

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saetoshis · 2 years

Text

TOO BUILT UP! [‹ BLLK ›]

[‹ WITH ›] nagi ; barou ; kunigami ; sae + kaiser!

[‹ SUMMARY ›] how long they last during NNN!

[‹ MATURE CONTENT WARNINGS ›]

fem!reader, all chars are 18+, mention of wet dreams, some dry humping/grinding, brat!reader + brat tamer!kunigami, some begging, mild degradation [sae + kaiser], dacryphilia [kaiser]

[‹ NAGI ›] a week tops!

nagi doesn't like the idea of participating in the first place, and he can't help but grumble out how much of a pain it is to do such a stupid challenge. but he can't resist your pretty pleads, so he'll sweep his complaints under the rug and try his best - just for you. but he can't make it, not when you snuggle into him looking all cute in his huge hoodie as he's sprawled on the bed playing games. the glimmer in your eyes and the way your thigh drapes over his lap is enough for his breath to catch in his throat, cock twitching in his pants at the slightest friction. "ah... don't wanna play this boring game anymore," he mumbles as he tosses the controller to the side of the bed, but you didn't know that he wasn't talking about the video game until he started pawing at your body under your hoodie and kissing against your neck.

[‹ BAROU ›] two weeks!

barou scoffs at the dumb idea, his mind all-too-convinced that it would be far too easy so he doesn't even wanna bother. all is normal for a week or two, except when the slow ache of pent-up testosterone from game after game starts to wrack his body and mess with his head. he'll find himself waking up after a wet dream and that's when he knows - maybe this challenge was harder than he thought. it's when he experiences recurring dreams of your pussy squeezing around his cock and your cute noises rattling in his head that he finally does something about it. it takes nothing more than the sight of you wearing one of his big t-shirts as you saunter into the kitchen for him to finally crack. "fuck... just cleaned the counters, too..." barou mumbles between panted sighs as he lifts you onto the cold marble. "m'gonna have to clean again after this."

[‹ KUNIGAMI ›] almost the whole month just to prove a point!

kunigami just sneers when you offer up the idea. he's stubborn enough to push through just to spite you, all in efforts to show you just how unfazed he can be without having his dick inside of you every night. he'll tease you throughout the month with lingering kisses and mumbles of 'mm, what ya starin' at? thinkin' about somethin'?' when he's fresh out of the shower with just a towel hiding exactly what he knows you want. but after a few weeks, his resolve starts to break when you tease him back. he knows what you're doing - when you cuddle up against him and push your ass back into his hips or kiss along his neck, he knows you're just being a brat on purpose. and that makes him want to break you even more. "such a fuckin' tease, aren't you? want me to fuck the brat outta you? hm?" kunigami jeers as he grinds his hips against yours to ease the twitching in his cock that he refuses to admit is there. "gotta make up for lost time... yeah, i know this pussy missed me."

[‹ SAE ›] until you're the one begging for him to fail!

sae looks so unbothered and nonchalant when you tell him to participate. he mutters out a small 'fine' and continues on with his day. you certainly expect a more dramatic response, and you had no possible inkling as to how much the game was going to affect you rather than him until about a few weeks in. the ignorance of pleasure wracking within your body was too much to bear, and sae would just look the other way whenever you tried to plead him to help you. "no," he'll respond in a deadpan. "i'm just going along with what you told me... i'm sure you can keep your hands to yourself, can't you?" but it's when you beg with glimmering tears in your eyes that he finally caves in. "can't even do it by yourself, hm?" sae murmurs as he slips the head of his cock inside your beyond-needy pussy. "need me to touch you, don't you? tell me... lemme hear how much you need me to make you cum."

[‹ KAISER ›] the entire month just to get you desperate!

kaiser laughs out loud at the proposition, and the sound of it alone lets you know you're in for it. he'll mutter something about how he's 'not sure you'll survive', and considering how stubborn he can be - it might just be a possibility. he'll tease you over the month with the tantalizing sight of him shirtless and sprawled on the couch, or he'll kiss you slowly enough for your head to spin and desperation to seep into your mind. but no matter what sort of tricks you try to pull, kaiser just won't give in. just the idea of your teary eyes begging for him to finally fuck you at the end of the month is enough to keep him satiated for weeks. by the time the month is up, you're practically a wreck of pent-up emotions and filthy thoughts and kaiser knows it. "kinda backfired, didn't it?" kaiser chuckles out the words against your lips, fingers hooking around your panties and slipping them off of your legs. "who's the desperate one now, hm? gonna cry for me? c'mon, lemme hear you beg just a little more."

2022 SAETOSHIS.

tagging: @donvampiro @xiaroo @boyfrwenz @aveegrex @simp-lauren @b-achiras @youronlygirl-riri @enishis @garoujo @tinyreo

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cry4mina · 6 months

Text

Take Me Back To Eden - The Summoning (Part 5)

(Nayeon x Fem!reader) & (Mina x Fem!reader)

Take Me Back to Eden - Choke Hold - Part 1

Take Me Back To Eden - Granite - Part 2

Take Me Back To Eden - Aqua Regia - Part 3

Take Me Back to Eden - Ascensionism - Part 4

Word Count: 8.1k

Fluff/Angst/Suggestive

Summary: Y/N leaves Nayeon's apartment and gets a phone call from an unexpected person, resulting in a hang out session that quickly develops into a series of unexpected events.

TW: Cursing, teasing, momo is there for a second, mina is here, references to sex, making out for sure, abusive behavior (nayeon is crazy yall) a dream sequence thats a little wild, choking, crime, uh....jihyo is upset? its a lot lmao

A/N: We are taking an interesting turn in the story lmao. Per usual we are thanking the moots bc they listen to me rattle ideas off constantly and keep me sane while I stress myself out lmao @saiiidahyunee @nr1chaedickrider @miinatozakiii and @neoplatinum. <3 I also did not proof read this one as much as the others bc I don't have as much time on my hands now, so sorry if it seems a little off but thank you for reading either way<33

“Mina?” perplexed immediately at the idea of the quietest person you were acquainted with calling you, especially at a time where you were completely overwhelmed.

“Momo told me what happened and I asked for your number… I hope that's okay.” She's so soft spoken it almost shocks you to hear her say this many words at once.

Slowly coming to a halt at a red light while putting your phone on speaker and replying “Yes, that’s totally okay…uhm, sorry, I’m…a little all over the place right now.” mind flashing back to the struggle of processing what possessed you to let your guard down around Nayeon…again.

This was the first real conversation you were having with Mina, always around each other but saying few words, with the exception being pleasantries and small conversations about video games that had just been released or what lego sets she was currently building.

There was a comfort there, an almost silent respect for who and how she was. Calm, quiet, collected in the face of new company. Shying away from conversation but always aware of everyone around her.

The members of Twice, especially Momo, always teased her about being so silent. It was always in good fun, but there were a few times you stepped in to tell her to lay off Mina and to respect that she was on the quieter side instead of pushing her to the point of speaking when she didn’t want to.

It’s almost like she can hear the hesitancy in your voice and your eyes searching around you as you try to figure out what to say to break the awkwardness that was brewing. You weren’t exactly in a stable mindset at the moment, for multiple reasons and weren’t exactly sure what the phone call was for.

“I know we don’t really know each other too well but…uhm, I know we have some common interests and that you could probably use a friend right now…so I figured I would call and see if you wanted to get a coffee or something…or maybe just sit on the couch and play videogames or… something.” half way stumbling through the sentence, showing a little nervousness as she spoke.

Myoui Mina wants to hang out? The same Mina who barely speaks up during group activities, is asking to spend time with you? Not that you would oppose her company but it seems so out of character for this to be happening.

“That sounds…really nice. I’d love to. Would you…want to text me your schedule for the next week or two and we can plan it from there?” Smiling back at her through the speaker attempting to hide the disbelief that overshadowed most of your other feelings.

“Sounds good, I’ll text you.” sounding a little panicked, she hangs up as quickly as she calls.

She was right, with you two having a few hobbies in common, it was unfortunate that you hadn’t hung out before. Nayeon was always so “protective” over you that there were certain members she wouldn’t let you hang out with alone. Jihyo, for obvious reasons, Sana, and Mina.

You didn’t pretend that you understood why she was so adamant on you not hanging out with Sana alone until now. Hindsight is 20/20 and Nayeon was worried that you would find comfort in the arms of someone else the same way she did. The puzzle suddenly solved, the behavior that you used to view as protective, now unmasking itself to divulge its true form. Control.

You were simply a bragging right to Nayeon and nothing else. “Look how amazing she is, that she did this for me.” always bragging about you to her members, especially when Jihyo was there. Motive is only clear now, as you unfold the intricate details and analyze her behavior from your memories.

Possessive, controlling, and selfish. The behavior she showed you was very well disguised but small moments reveal the truth. Her covertness was easily picked apart now that you were close to having all the information when a loud horn blares from behind you. Looking up to a Green light, hitting the gas pedal quickly as you continue on the way home, trying not to get too wrapped up in your head.

Your phone starts vibrating again, being sure to check the name before you answer this time. Momo’s name lights up on the screen, “Speaking of the devil” huffing because you wanted to sort out this wearisome information you were pulling apart in your mind. Deep breath as you slide to answer the call.

“Hey Momoring, what’s up?” Putting on a cheerful sound in a bid to drown out the overstimulation you were experiencing, but Momo could always see right through you, being one of the people who knew you best.

“Y/n, where are you??” sounding a little baffled, and reflecting concern as she spoke.

“Uhm…” leaning forward to catch one of the passing street signs.

“Passing 72nd about to get on the highway…is everything okay?” showing worry for the way she spoke, wondering if you should change routes and go to Momo’s instead of home.

“I’m fine but I’m coming over.” hearing the car door slam, keys jingling, and the ignition start over the speaker.

“Let yourself in if you get there before me.” squinting as you reply, wondering if there are any visible marks on your skin or how disheveled you look, Momo would be sure to notice and say something.

“Perfect, I’ll see you soon.” Momo curiously laughed as the call ended which got you wondering why she was rushing over to your place as you merge onto the highway.

Driving on the highway at this time of day was easier than anticipated. Allowing you to get lost in your head as you continued on the path to home. Flashes of Nayeon underneath you rewind in your head, disgusted by your actions and stirring in your seat, revealing your sweater sticking to your back.

More flashes of her scraping roughly down your back as you attack her neck with your teeth, grazing them along her throat lightly, pinning her to the mattress, fucking her face and then just leaving afterwards. Using her as an allegory for taking back your freewill that you didn’t know you were missing.

The new apartment was brighter and warmer than the last, welcoming you back home when stepping through the door. The living room to the left and the kitchen straight forward, you happily look at the space you’ve decorated for yourself.

Most of the colors were different shades of gray. Black and white accents with hints of green displaced here and there, mostly by the plants you purchased wanting to have some semblance of life in the rooms, Nayeon never watered the plants so they always died but you were determined to integrate the things you once loved back into your life.

Two matching gray couches lay diagonally from each other with a long black coffee table filling out the space in between, your favorite bamboo candle in the middle of the table, a tv remote, and a few books scattered around the table, illuminated by the fireplace to the right of the seating arrangements.

A large flat screen mounted on the wall and a credenza underneath, holding the gaming consoles you bought for yourself when you moved in.

Nayeon was never one for video games and did everything in her power to keep you from playing them, even on your phone. Always distracting you when you were in the middle of a match, always standing in front of the TV in something lacey. Sliding her hand down the front of your pants while kissing your neck, as you tried to play your handheld.

Not minding it too much at first, she has an extensive lingerie collection and you loved to admire her in all of them, but all of your own hobbies got pushed to the side as time went on. A tactic to control that you didn’t recognize sooner.

Momo was already on your new couch, making herself at home when you arrived, walking straight to the living room and placing your collection of things down on the coffee table loudly, glaring at her like you had just seen war.

Looking up at you from her phone, she audibly gasps at the state of you. Hair completely tousled, tired eyes, light marks all over your neck, and your sweater on backwards. Mess was a really nice way to put it.

“I know what you did!” shrieked out of Momo's mouth while you’re turning beet red and fidgeting with your sleeves silently. Puckering your lips and trying to escape the awkwardness you feel as she gawks at you openly, despite your embarrassment.

“You look so red right now! I didn’t know if I believed Jihyo when she told me what happened but now I can safely say she was telling the truth” belly laughing at the idea of Hyo getting a taste of her own medicine and Nayeon being exactly who she showed herself to be.

“What did you just say? You talked to Jihyo?! It only took me like 10 minutes to get home and she’s calling people about it?!” surprised at how quickly the news traveled through the grapevine, wondering who else she called to tell.

“A pissed off Jihyo works fast. Told me that she walked into Nayeon’s apartment with you leaving, neck covered in marks” pointing at your neck, tongue between her teeth as she bites back a laugh, “and Nayeon, naked in the bed absolutely covered in bruises. Hyo said that she could barely get her talk…I take it you put in some work, no?” Poking fun at you while she laughed so hard she slaps her knee.

Hands flying to cover the unease on your face while collapsing into the couch adjacent to the one Momo was on, belly first, letting out a long whine. This was going to be a big deal and what were the rest of the members going to be told when you stop showing up to functions with Nayeon? Would Nayeon tell them the whole truth or just that you weren’t together?

Hating the idea of what you said to Jihyo when you left the apartment, knowing it was out of anger and halfway wanting to apologize for your actions but brushing that feeling off quickly. Needing to solely focus on yourself instead of trying to make anyone else feel better. Heavily empathizing with what Hyo might be feeling currently.

“Wait, so this just happened…like less than an hour ago?” quizzically asking like Momo didn’t already know the answer just to bring you back from whatever was going on in your head.

“Less than that actually” muffled by the couch and your hands while you spiral into an entire inner monologue about why, when you feel like it should’ve never happened, letting out a sigh and showing signs of stress.

“Jihyo is absolutely the angriest I’ve ever heard her, it’s kind of funny to know karma is almost instant for her. She did mention that she wanted to talk to you and asked if I had heard from you…I told her no but she didn’t believe me.” Momo interrupts herself to change the topic of Jihyo in all of this back to you.

“I mean…what happened anyway? You were anti-nayeon for the last few weeks, did something change or?” questioning your motive as she sees you distressed.

“Oh I know she’s mad and I don’t know, - I just went back to get the rest of my stuff and she was following me around the house,” sitting up and leaning back trying to relax. Stinging on your back, another reminder of the story being told, as you move trying to get comfortable while halfway wincing. Momo cocking her head to the side as you suck air between your teeth

“What was that?”

Eyes widen for a second, “Nothing!” expeditiously spoken.

“She fucked your back up again, didn’t she?” Half laughing again as you attempt to continue what you were saying.

“Anyways, she said she wanted to talk so I turned around and she just looked me in my eyes and kissed me…I didn’t really know what to do because I mean-” scooching to the edge of the couch and putting your elbows on your knees and holding your chin as your eyes dampen.

“It’s Nayeon…I know I shouldn’t care, and I’m trying not to but even if the last 3 years weren’t real for her…” choking on your words as they come out unfiltered. “It was real for me.”

More tears falling, this was a mistake. Reopening the wounds that were still healing as you sat with yourself, taking in the knowledge that people were upset with the choices you made didn’t sit well, even if those people were involved in hurting you.

Sad eyes sitting on the couch diagonal to you, realizing that intentions weren’t to hurt anyone else, as she watched. Momo wished she knew what to do in the face of this or knew what to say to comfort you, there was a feeling of sorrow in her, a space held for her best friend’s troubles.

“Jihyo also said that you had something interesting to say to her before you left” smirking and biting her lips, trying to suppress a smile. Bringing it up knowing it would make you laugh and momentarily forget the anguish you were almost drowning yourself in.

“Oh, did she?” replying with a snarky tone, unable to remember most of the encounter with Jihyo due to adrenaline, being angry with Jihyo for sleeping with your girlfriend behind your back, and wanting to get the fuck out of there before Nayeon could try to talk to you again.

“I don’t really think she will be much use to you tonight but you can try and, oh, I hope you like the way I taste.” Momo shouted back at you, cackling as she held her stomach leaning as far back into the couch as she could, pulling the sides of your mouth up as she continued.

“That is so out of pocket, but honestly, hilarious!” bellowing out at you as you start to giggle at the statement made, knowing that she was trying to make light of the situation but also appreciating that you said something so petty.

Originally feeling bad for saying anything, jaw tightening for a second as “An eye for an eye” wasn’t normally something you believed in and it wasn't really your plan to go and sleep with Nayeon, it kind of just happened.

“Hey, is it okay if Dahyun comes here after her schedule? She apparently got that call from Jihyo too.”

“Of course, you don’t even have to ask!”

A phone clattering against the table as it interrupted your conversation, vibrating twice before stopping. Reaching for it to see an unfamiliar number on your screen and a list of times and dates, a schedule? Mina’s schedule.

“Hey, I forgot to mention, Mina called me today” nonchalantly mumbled to Momo over the tv show she had put on in the background.

Gasping loudly, sliding her fingers through her hair, eyes bewildered while leaning closer, “She CALLED…you?” comes out of her mouth so quickly, surprised your ears could even break down what she said.

“Yeah, weren’t you the one who gave her my number?” a little disoriented by the response, as if she was surprised Mina contacted you at all.

“She doesn’t even call me and I’ve known her for a decade.” astonished that her adopted younger sister would reach out through a phone call and not a text…

“We are going to hang out sometime soon. She just sent me her schedule so we could plan it.” looking back at your phone to “heart” the text Mina sent and replying for the following day in the early afternoon, making sure to save her phone number in your phone with a little penguin emoji.

“Mina is going to leave the house?” stunned as you spoke about your future plans with Momo’s favorite homebody.

“I take it she doesn’t do that often either?” chuckling back at Momo while you open a delivery app on your phone and choosing a restaurant with a low delivery time.

“I’m hungry, what do you want from the Thai place down the street?” asking as Momo grabs your phone to put her order in it.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re hungry after the evening you had!” teasingly from behind the phone as she finishes adding her meal to the cart, and handing it back to you.”

“Momo!”

Waking up anxious on the day that you and Mina were going to get coffee was not a great start, barely any sleep in your eyes with your hands shaking, rolling out of your bed around 10:30am. Grabbing your phone, you head to the living room without changing out of your PJs and plopping down on the couch.

Turning on the TV and opening your phone to text Mina.

Y/N: Hey Mina! I woke up a little anxious this morning and I know we have plans today. Would it be okay if you just came to my apartment instead of us going out? 10:34am

Y/N: Maybe we can have a gaming day or something? 10:35am

🐧: Sounds good to me. Send me the address whenever you’re ready for me to head over. 10:37am

🐧: Sorry you are feeling anxious. 10:38am

About 2 hours later, after showering and cleaning up the space a little bit, you sent Mina your address. Wearing something cozy but presentable, wanting to make a semi-decent impression as this was the first time you were hanging out with Mina alone.

A small knock can be heard on the door, quickly walking over and opening it to reveal the small frame of Mina, backpack on, two coffees in her hands and a very shy look on her face.

“I know you said you were anxious and coffee probably isn’t the solution for that but I figured I’d grab you one just in case you did want some.” softly explaining the two coffees before hellos can be said.

“Come on in, make yourself at home and thank you! I’d love some coffee” as she hands you the cup and you take a sip. It’s exactly what you normally order. Just enough sugar to counteract the bitterness and a splash of cream.

Whipping your head to face her quickly, “how did you know my order?” happily confused as you gulp a few times and head for the living room with her gracefully following, after sliding her shoes off.

“I asked Momo this morning when you texted me. I’ve seen you drink coffee a few times when you were coming to hang out with us. I was worried you’d get a caffeine headache if you didn’t have some…” mumbled as you picked your spots on the couch, and turned on your console.

“It’s so sweet that you would think of me like that, Mina, Thank you.” genuinely surprised by the act of kindness. Someone you hardly knew went out of the way for you and that warmed you more than you anticipated.

Mina’s ears went red while you thanked her for the coffee. Embarrassed and feeling like she came on a little too strongly, before you mentioned you thought it was sweet. Fidgeting with her hands, walls down for a second, a gummy smile let out from her as she sifts through your list of games, choosing a fighting game.

Astounded by how good Mina was at the game, you tipped your fake hat in her direction. She let you win a few times before really showing you how good she was, getting more competitive each round you played.

Putting on a random movie and switching to handheld games on the switch you could play together, both of you sat for hours and talked about life, getting to know each other a little bit more. It was nice to spend time with someone and not have to talk about Nayeon.

There was a familiarity with Mina, something unexplainable about her presence that made her so calming. Hoping that you might ignite a similar comfort in her, the anxiety no longer sat in your chest as you got to know her more.

Learning a lot about her as she spoke of her family, life back in Japan before she was an idol, about how when her, Momo, and Sana went back for the Misamo debut, they went to her family's home and she got to eat her mom’s home cooked meals. Making mental notes of what her favorite dishes were and how she spoke so lovingly about the people she held near and dear to her.

“So, Y/N, I’m getting a little hungry, do you want to go out to get something or would you rather order it here?” The body language she was exhibiting was interesting, half closed half open. Arms lay in her lap by her switch but her legs were tightly locked. Was she comfortable here? Did she feel nervous about opening up so quickly?

“Why don’t we go out?” Suggesting while standing up, fixing your sweat pants. Maybe she just needs a little fresh air so she can relax. Suddenly feeling the need to calm her the way she eased you out of your anxiety unknowingly.

“Sounds good, there’s a new cafe around the corner, it’s a locally owned place. I think they serve Japanese food. Would you want to try that?”

“That sounds great, actually. I’d love to, especially after you talked about your mom’s cooking.” Her expression thrilled as she ran to put her shoes on, doing a little happy wiggle as she waited for you by the door.

You can’t help but chuckle at her. A glint of warmth refracting in your soul.

–

The cafe was only a block away and it was a nice afternoon so you walked side by side, making sure that you were the one closest to the street. Taking in the scenery of the new neighborhood, little shops lining the road around you from markets to touristy stores, hands unintentionally brushing each other.

“These shops seem cool, maybe we should come back another day and explore them.” Looking over at Mina as you speak, trying to pretend like your heart didn’t combust when your hands touched. The comment catches her off guard, shying into herself as you make the suggestion.

“I’d love that” whispered back to you. That means there will be a next time and that sparks joy in you.

Arriving at the cafe and getting a small table outside, ordering a bottle of Sake before ordering food.

“Can I order for you?” Mina asks, shifting her eyes from the menu, this was a test. It was written all over her face as she studied your reaction.

Squinting at her with a smile on your face, “if you’re up for the challenge,” biting back playfully. The second gummy slime shines off of her as she laughs at your terrible joke. “I think I’m up for the challenge.” competitively stated back with the corners of her mouth turned up.

Leaning into the menu, reading it line by line as she zeros her focus in. Watching the way the wheels spun in her head as you see her fold the menu and put it on the table, softly smiling back at you with a sense of accomplishment.

The waitress scurried over with the tokkuri and ochoko set, the ceramic vessel was bulbous indenting at the neck and expanding back out again while the smaller cups had a golden brown rim with a gray-ish green hue, sitting on the tray neatly.

“Alright, and here is the sake. Are we ready to order our food yet or do we need a little more time?” placing the rigged craft in front of you, and the smaller cups in front of each of you as her eyes flashed between the two of you to see who will speak up first. .

“Yes. We are ready to order.” Calmly said as the dialect switched. Blinking a few times at Mina while she ordered completely in Japanese to the waitress, pointing at the menu and speaking with her hands. Nodding her head at the response from the waitress as she handed her the menus and turning her attention back to you.

Gracefully grabbing the vessel with one hand, pouring your glass and another smooth movement, handing it to you as she placed the craft down on the small table.

“You really wanted dinner to be a surprise, huh?” Playfully before sipping the sake politely and placing it down on the table.

Picking up the tokkuri and trying to pour her a glass with as much class as she did, but failing when you looked up at her. Getting lost in her features as she watched you. “Was she always so…effervescent? High cheekbones, sharp eyes and a softness that was infectious an-“ Realizing you were still pouring, you abruptly stop almost spilling sake everywhere. Handed her the ochoko sheepishly after you had filled it a little too full.

“Maybe.” peeking up at you through her bangs as she took a small drink, chasing it with a smile and a giggle, covering her mouth with her hand that was sleeve clad, and turning red as her cheeks raised up.

Did she notice how you were looking at her? Oh god, I hope I didn’t just make things weird. A moment of panic in your body nags at you as she beams in front of you. Wow…she’s so pretty. Half mesmerized, half alarmed at your thoughts, your leg starts bouncing and fidgeting with your hands becomes your fixation, as they lay on the small metal table in front of you.

Lost in thought as you try to push away the unwelcome intrusion of nervousness, when a small velvet hand reaches out and gently places itself on the anxious tick that’s visible. Your heart skips. Eyes locking as you peer up at her, stopping in your tracks. A chill runs through your body as you take in the pureness diffusing the unease like the rain washing away blood stains on the battleground of your mind. How did she do that?

Internally realizing that you might have a slight attraction to the person you’ve just begun to hang out with, you’re slightly panicked by the idea of getting close to someone again so soon after Nayeon. Unfortunately, this realization played out on your face softly enough for the person accompanying you to dinner to notice.

“I’m sorry” uttered quickly as she pulled her hands away, moving your hands into your lap at the same moment. “I didn’t ask you if you were a physical touch person, I should have.” Mina is looking down now, seemingly worried that she crossed a line she wasn’t supposed to.

“No no- it’s fine, really. I do like physical touch…I’m just not used to it from anyone except for Nay-“ interrupted by the waitress bringing out your dinner. Slicing through the moment as she placed two similar dishes in front of both of you. Tonkotsu ramen topped with shiitake mushrooms, bean sprouts, bok choy, bamboo shoots, double the chashu, and a soft-boiled egg that’s split in half, golden yolk spilling into the array of rich colors.

Stunned as you look at the delicious meal in front of you, “Wow, this looks amazing! Did you get the same thing?” questioning as you finish off the last of the sake in your cup.

Mina notices and immediately fills it again with a soft smile. “Almost the same thing, I remembered you don’t care for the fish cakes so I had them swap my chashu with them.” followed by her finishing off her sake to keep up with you.

Pouring of the drink for her, this time focusing as hard as your brain would allow so you could get it just right under the eyes studying your movements. “You knew that?” amazed that Mina remembered such a small detail about you.

“Yes! You came to the studio one day with Nay-…” hesitating to say her name as she knows the wound is still fresh but attempting to cover it with a drink from her glass, “Her, and we all ordered from a place similar to this one and I remember you said you didn’t like the texture.”

Baffled was an understatement. Not only did this borderline stranger call you to check in and ask if you wanted to hang out, but she asked her friend what your coffee order was AND she remembered something that was such a small comment…

“It’s really sweet that you remember that, Mina.” both of you blushing as you continue to make small talk while finishing the meal.

Table cleared and on your second bottle of sake, Mina finally is brave enough to ask about what happened between you and Nayeon.

“Hey, Y/n? I know it’s probably a sensitive topic…but what happened between you and Nayeon? Momo told me that you broke up but she didn’t really mention why…” Alcohol gave her the confidence to ask the question you knew was coming all night.

“Well..” hesitating to respond, not really knowing the answer. You knew what happened, but not why it happened. Mina could see the soft sadness on your face as you contemplated how to answer her.

“Long story short, she cheated on me. The entire time.” Mina eyes widened, mouth ajar, completely in shock and frozen at what you just said.

“Oh my gosh, y/n”…I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling,” reaching her hand out to place it on your forearm, rubbing her thumb against the softness of your sweater as she made sympathetic eyes at you. Feeling sorry for what you’d been through, what this meant for you.

It was as if the goddess fell from the sky as she laid her hands on you. Physical manifestations of feelings developing as your heart pounded, breath quickened, and getting a little shaky. The sun beams through your veins as you feel the beams radiating off your face, a similar look on Mina’s.

“I didn't tell you the worst part.” Softly while she’s still caressing your arm. “It was the entire time we were together, they tried to cover it too.” Confusion, anger, sympathy mixed together into the melting pot that was Mina’s heart.

You didn’t expect her to be so emotionally available for you. Reserved was her middle name, why was she so open to physical touch with you? Ordering for you? Wondering if she was also feeling the fire that was kindling between the two of you.

“They?” Concerned tone wrapped around you tightly. It was almost…possessive. Body reacts by constricting your thighs together, you might like the possessive tendency a little too much.

“Nayeon and…Jihyo, actually”

Mina's face contorts into anger upon hearing the culprits names, hand still on your arm lightly squeezing now. Eyes wet with disappointment as she tries to hold back tears and comprehend how they could do that…to you of all people.

“I’m so sorry, my love.” Said so smoothly as if it’s always been what she called you. Pain sits behind her eyes, as she continues on “I can’t believe they would do that to you. You deserve so much better.”

Half wincing at her words, realizing they’re sprinkled with care that you weren’t used to, a sense of sorrow washes over you as you come to terms with your past relationship not being as healthy as you thought it was.

“You do know that…right?” head tilted at the question even if she already knows the answer.

“I don’t know anymore. This whole thing has been so life altering for me, it’s hard to have all these big feelings of love and anger at the same time.” speaking so candidly about the emotions you were experiencing, opening up to Mina about your internal monologue.

Continuing to drink the bottle of sake as the wind picked up a little, causing it to become slightly chillier. It was early November, so it was on the colder side. Shivering as you sat in the breeze, sun setting with golden hour brushing the scene around you and accentuating the beautiful brush strokes that composed the woman in front of you.

The bangs sitting a little lower than her eyebrows that were perfectly shaped, long waves more breathtaking than an angry sea extending far down past her shoulders to her waist, glowing skin that made her look like the embodiment of light, you can’t help but fixate your eyes on her and you’re a little too intoxicated to care if she catches you.

Standing up and stretching to go and pay the bill, Mina snatches it out of your hand and runs inside, beating you to it. Giggling a little harder than you should, when a small black compact car that was too familiar pulled up to the front of the cafe and parked.

Before you could even realize why the car was familiar, two women stepped out and stopped dead in her their tracks. Im Nayeon and Park Jihyo.

Jihyo looks like she's been crying, eyes swollen, lip still quivering as she stood next to Nayeon, who still completely covered in the imprint of your teeth and lips, clinging to her arm. Standing in silence, as the air stretches taut.

“Why haven’t you answered my text messages?” Nayeon abruptly breaks the tension. Jihyo’s eyes widen as Nayeon crosses her arms and taps her foot angrily waiting for an answer. She really was going to do this right here and now. She always lacked patience, this was a perfect example of that.

“I don’t want to.” flowing from your lips with a sour face like you completely forgot what happened the evening before, sake getting to you as you retort with malice. “Maybe you should take the hint and stop trying”

Scoffing at the comment, Nayeon shakes Jihyo off of her and walks up to you slowly while swaying her hips, like she always did at you when she was trying to get you to do what she wanted. Reaching you and placing her elbows on your shoulders as she twirls the hair cascading down your back. Skin burning under the weight of her touch, making you panic almost immediately. The disgust from before had returned in full force and it displayed on your face while she spoke.

“Come on, baby. Don’t be like that.” hand now sweeping a piece of hair out of your face, looking up at you with those big doe eyes “I know you miss me, just come home. I’m sorry you are hurting from what I did. I’ve been punished enough.” repulsed by the pet names and the attempts to win you over again.

Jihyo is uncomfortably shifting, sorrow now covered in jealousy as her lover tries to win back what was viewed as hers. Green was a lovely color on her but to wear it on her face the way she did, with no remorse, was a bold statement.

“Nayeon, I don’t want to do this with you in front of your girlfriend,” making air quotes as you say the word, “or at all really. So forget I exist and we can both just move on.” Attempting to move out of her grasp as she took in your words, not liking the reaction she was getting, she grabbed your wrist to stop you from leaving.

“So after 3 years, you’re really just going to leave me?” Slightly panicked, realizing you actually weren’t falling for her tricks anymore.

“Yes.” Stoically cascading and washing over Nayeon, rinsing away the confidence to reveal crossness and a hint of fear, while shaking her grip loose from your wrist.

“So none of it meant anything to you?” small drops of irritation on her tongue, thick like honey, while she studies your lack of want or care for her. Strikingly different from the person she used to know very well, never being met with walls built so carefully around you before.

“I think that’s actually your stance on it” spit back with malice from the guard tower at the top of the castle you built around yourself to keep her out.

“You know what y/n, if you think that you can just come into our house and fu-“ shock runs through her as she sees a figure stepping out of the cafe. The shadows hand reach up to link with yours, giving it a tight squeeze.

“Are you ready to go, my love?” Mina’s voice was a little louder than normal so both parties could hear after finding you in this tense moment. Her stance is defensive as she knowingly pokes the bear.

Jihyo and Nayeon are both completely gobsmacked by Mina not only being out of the house, but also by being with you. Hand in hand.

“My love????” Nayeon scoffed, tears building when she had an idea. “You can’t be serious right now, y/n. After last night, are you on a date with Mina? A member of my group? Do you not have your own friends to filter through? Did I not satiate you enough? …Maybe we should’ve gone one more round.” craftily leaving her mouth as she tries to cause discourse between what she thinks is a date…was it a date?

Jihyo doesn’t even try to step in or say anything, she just gets back into the car looking like her tears are about to fall again from being cast aside by the likes of you. Nayeon doesn’t even flinch at the sound of the car door, waiting for you to panic under the weight of the information just given to Mina.

Mina snaps back boldly “don’t worry, I’ll take care of her from now since you can’t satiate her, apparently.” Winking back at Nayeon while leading you down the road, back to your house, hands still together and Mina unphased. A small smirk appears on your face as you try not to laugh, not even needing to look at Nayeon's face to know that she was completely shocked by the comments made by Mina.

Nayeon tried to follow the two of you as you repressed laughter, shouting to try to get your attention again “Y/n! I can’t believe you right now! After everything we’ve been through? And Mina, you bitch! I can’t believe you wou-”

“Nayeon, get in the fucking car.” Jihyo grimaced while pulling the car up as she saw people starting to stare at the commotion. Nayeon rolled her eyes and got in. This wasn’t over yet, and everyone knew it.

–

Mina picks up her pace, giggling and tugging you behind her as she tries to get away from the disturbance plaguing you both. “I’ve never seen her so mad before, is she always that confrontational with you?” quizzically inquired as you both drunkenly sauntered back to the safety of your apartment.

“To be honest, I have no idea. This is the first time I’m seeing her react in such a way. She used to be so sweet to me before I found out about…” hesitating to finish the sentence, but Mina knew where you were going with it and just nodded her head.

“It must be really hard to feel like you don’t know her after all this time. I can’t imagine what that feels like. Someone like you shouldn’t have to deal with that at all.” boldly spoken as you reached your apartment.

“What do you mean by that?” Pressing into what she just said. “Someone like me?”

“The betrayal she put you through is ju-“ starting as she catches your eyes while you squeeze her hand.

“Mina, no, what did you mean by someone like me?” looking up at her with a sheepish smile as you unlock the door and step inside, hands still locked and still feeling the effects of the sake as you both waltz into the living room and find your spots on the couch, this time a little closer than before.

“…I-“ alcohol fighting her logic, letting go of your hand as she whispers a honey laced memory into the quiet room while curling into herself, showing the shy nature again.

“Do you remember when we first met? You went out of your way to talk to me, even if the other girls were trying to pull your attention. You even asked me about things you knew I liked to get to know me a little better and paid attention when I answered and the kindness you showed to all of us, even if some of us were a little apprehensive or even defensive…and then seeing the way you were with…her. I was astounded at the level of compassion and care that you gave to her, and to know what she did to you makes me view her very differently.” afraid to look you in the eyes as she opened up her chest, showing you a vulnerability that you’d never thought to see from her.

“I knew how important you all are to her. I wanted to make sure we all bonded because I thought…she was going to be the person I ended up with. Even if she isn’t, I’m glad it happened because she gave me Momo and now you. I feel like you were a sign from God” Grinning back at her, blush spreading through her cheeks as she smiled brightly back at you.

Both of you still feel the effects of the sake as you throw a random movie on to relax and unwind. Sitting so close together on the large couch that your arms are brushing against each other. She lifted the arm that was touching yours and placed it around your back and on your waist, you leaned into her and comfortably you both laid down, intertwined in each other.

Your head on her shoulder as she lays in her back, arm wrapped around your waist drawing small patterns with her fingers. One of your hands lightly placed where her ribs connect and legs intertwined as you slowly drifted into the most comfortable nap you’ve had in months.

—

Everything was pitch black. Eyes shifting in and out of darkness as you try to calibrate to your surroundings. A small metal table sits in the distance, the only thing that is illuminated and you can make 2 figures sitting around it, it looks like they’re talking but you can’t be sure.

Walking as quickly as you can through the shadows approaching the table, you try to shout out to them but nothing comes out. Reaching up to your throat, you hold it while you try to scream. Feeling the vibrations through your hands but not a single sound cuts through the air.

As you get closer to the figures, their details are revealed to you slowly. Shoulder length light brown hair facing the woman with long dark wavy hair. “Nayeon? Mina??” mouth trying to spit the words your lungs can’t bear to speak when Nayeon slowly turns her head to you, and says “oh, Y/n it’s about time you joined us” voice contorting, almost as if it’s overlapped by another. You’re forced to your knees by something you cannot see, and immediately smell sulfur, as Nayeon lifts your chin with one finger.

She stares into your soul, eyes completely black, as her face starts contorting and twisting, dripping off her skull. Wincing and looking at Mina to see her smiling back at you, illuminated in light.

A sense of calm washing over you, only for a second when you feel your mouth fill with blood. Still on your knees, you spit out what’s flavoring your mouth and all of your teeth come with it. Screaming in silence as you watch Nayeon get up and stand above you, grabbing your neck with both hands tightening as she holds you over a cliff edge, storm crashing around you and hisses in the distorted voice “you’ll always be mine.” Dropping you straight down into the ocean, you try to regulate yourself and swim up but it’s pitch black, swimming until you choke on water and snap awake startling Mina who was silently sleeping underneath you.

Hyperventilating heavily as you try to shake off the feeling of the dream, crying as you shake. Mina is immediately by your side, wrapping her arms around you and comforting you.

“It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe with me. Don’t worry, I’ve got you” as she rubs your back in a circular motion to try and regulate your breathing.

Your sweater feels very constricting as a thin layer of sweat covers you, you part from Mina and start pacing as you take the hoodie off leaving you in a sports bra. Following your movements with her eyes, as you walk around aimlessly, tears falling as you try to breathe.

Mina stands up and catches you by the wrist and pulls you into her, comforting you with a hug. “You’re safe with me. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Body unclenching as she spoke and held you close to her. A warm surge of calm pumped through your veins as you sniffled, pressing your face into her neck.

Pulling back to look at her, you can see the concern mixed with something else in her eyes. Something you’d never seen before. Your faces are close enough to feel each other's breath as she looks into your eyes and then down at your lips, your eyes following the same motion.

Leaning in closer, lips brushing against each other before fully committing, you both shyly decide this is the path your friendship is taking. Her arms slide from your lower back to your hips slowly, pressing her fingers into your hips and pulling you towards her as your mouths find each other.

Her lips so soft, tasting of the alcohol you consumed and the tension that had been building all day. Her flavor was the taste of the divine, effervescently consuming you as she coded your flesh and bones with her scriptures.

Slow and passionate, at first, slowly picking up pace. Hands exploring each other's bodies as you familiarize yourself with the sounds she makes when you tangle your fingers in her hair. She takes control, which is something you never let happen, but it’s different with her. You actually feel safe with her.

Mina grabs your waist again and pushes you down on the couch, keeping your lips connected and she swipes her tongue across your bottom lip asking for entrance, given without hesitation. Her hands leave your waist as her mouth travels to your neck, biting down lightly as you whine into the silence of the room. She stands and removes her sweater, revealing a sports bra and her well toned abs, igniting a fire within you.

Kneeling between your legs, reaching for you to get you closer to her, pulling your body as close as it would get to her. Kissing picking up again, as you feel her wrap her arms around you, toying with the clip of your bra as she threatens to undo it.

“Is this okay?” asking softly as she scatters soft sweet kisses across your face. You nod your head yes but before she can undo the clip, a loud crashing startles both of you.

“What was that?” Mina spoke up, obviously bothered by the interruption but also concerned as it sounded very close.

“I’m not sure” you were still focused on her before she got up and turned around, heading towards the front door to see what was going on.

“Y/n, you’re going to want to see this.” Mina says with a tone of worry. You run over to her to find a rock with a note tied around it shattered through the glass window next to your door.

“I’m going to call the police, please be careful, the glass is everywhere.” running to the living room to get her phone, and you stand there shirtless looking at the crime scene. Wondering how she found you, if she followed you back from the dinner you had with Mina.

Stepping carefully around the shattered sharpness scattered across the entrance way, you reach over to the note and slightly open it, gasping at the contents loud enough for Mina to hear from the other room.

“She’s mine” scrawled on it, in a familiar red ink.

Take Me Back To Eden - The Apparition - Part 5.5

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