#update from the day i finally decide to post this: it’s been sitting in my drafts for months so here i go | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

safination · 21 days

Text

For Your Heart

The Middle

|Masterlist|

|Part 1: The Beginning| |Part 3: The End|

Pairings: Alastor x wife!Reader.Tags/ Warning: SFW. fem!Reader, AFAB, Established Relationship, Human! Alastor, Human! Reader, tooth-rooting fluff, Husband! Alastor Harana – a traditional form of courtship done during the night where men will go to someone’s window with an instrument, usually a guitar, along with some of his friends to sing.

TLDR: Sometimes all you need is a guitar and a song to catch hearts…and well, Alastor has a guitar and a voice perfect for singing. The beginning, the middle, the end, and the new beginning with a guitar and a song (feat. Ben&Ben) I decided to make this into a four-part series instead of releasing it all at once. Just comment if you ever want to be added into a taglist for this mini-series I'm doing. I know that it's been a while since I've updated but,,,ehehehehe. I was enjoying my break but finally got around to writing again. I'll post the tagalog versions soon. This can be read as a stand-alone

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ

It’s funny, actually.

The same moonlight shines across a different window, yet the way it filters through the glass is the same. The feeling it pulls from your heart is still the same. It reminds you of the faint and distant think that would sound on your window. Those sounds have long faded awa—

BANG!

The sound shakes the wooden frame of the window. Another loud bang causes the brush in your hand to drop to the carpeted floor. You rush to the window and peek out the curtains.

Oh, it’s Alastor.

Moonlight reflects against the same brown hair, but it no longer belongs to a boy. Instead, the man who stands under your window has grown taller over the years. Alastor traded his faded jeans for dress pants and bowties. The strands of his hair that used to poke out are now neatly slicked back. Yet, Alastor runs a hand through his hair, and traces of that boy peek out.

There’s a guitar strapped to his back. It brings a brighter smile on your face than it should.

Alastor grabs another stone, and hurls it to the side of your window, just barely touching the glass. The bang of the stone causes a muscle on your cheek to tense. Well, at least he hasn’t broken anything…yet.

Quite the hazard, indeed.

Still, you open the window and pause just in case Alastor decides to hurl another stone.

“The window will break, love,” you tell him because you’re not keen on waiting until Alastor breaks something.

Alastor strums the string of the guitar. Music filters into the air and flies straight into your window—it's much better than a stone. “Darling, it’s our window,” he says, smiling up at you. “I can always replace the glass if something breaks.”

“One of these days, I swear, I will take a rock straight through your window.”

“I look forward to it.” Alastor laughs, bright and airy. It’s everything to you. Especially when the moonlight illuminates the brown in his eyes as they crinkle. “Whatever window I could possibly own belongs to you as well.”

You lean out the windowsill with a smile, pleased at his response.

That smile slowly fades when Alastor approaches the tree, and grasps a stump to hurl his body upwards. He plants his foot on a small nook of bark, reaching out for a branch to climb even higher up the tree. The look of focus on his face as Alastor climbs the tree is cute, but there’s not time to savor the way his eyebrows scrunch or how his lips purse.

“Sweetie, you’re going to fall,” you say, plain and simple. “I would be smart to get down, now.”

Alastor keeps climbing the tree until he climbs all the way up the branch that faces your window. He balances across the branch, a steady hand on the trunk as he walks. He’s careful to keep the guitar from hitting anything. You keep your glare steady on him until he sits across the thick branch.

“Oh don’t look at me like that,” Alastor tells you, rolling his eyes in a very, very, dramatic way. “I’m already at the top.”

Just to be funny, you say, “Why are you here, love?”

“I’ve come for your heart.” Alastor raises the guitar above his head, and once more you see traces of that wide and boyish smile on his lips.

“Why don’t you just come in?” you say. “I’ll go down and open the door for you.”

Alastor rolls his eyes again. “Or you could just listen right now.”

“Sweethe—”

“Every second we argue is a second I spend longer on this tree.” Alastor pats the branch, bouncing in his seat as he tests the capabilities of the tree to hold his weight. “I quite like the view up here. I think I could spend a lifetime up here.”

With a sigh, you lean against the windowsill. Alastor catches your gaze, and you offer a small smile. It’s a plain and simple small smile.

Except…Alastor’s fingers still at the strings of the guitar, halting the strumming. He blinks at you with a wide stare.

A pause.

Then another pause.

Then he slings an arm over his eyes with the goofiest smile. The edges of his lips curl higher and higher until it reaches all the way up his eyes. The most boisterous laugh escapes his lips, and it rings across the night air. “You are absolutely unfair!” he says, pointing at you, but there’s a certain giddiness in his tone. “How unfair of you, my dear! I call foul! Completely and absolutely unfair of you to do this to me.”

Your head tilts. “Love, do what?”

Alastor runs a hand over his hair, and strands filter through his fingers and frame around his face. There’s a silly, silly, smile on him. “I love you.”

The clutch of girlhood has long left you, but the way Alastor looks at you places you right back into the confines of the ridiculous girl you once were. There’s a ridiculous smile on your lip as you play with the ring around your finger. “I love you as well.”

The strum of the first note.

“Morning has come in our home, so don’t you disappear.” Alastor’s voice fills into the air, once again tugging at the strings of your heart. “Morning has come in our home…to love or to be enchanted.”

His fingers carefully strum the correct cords of the song. It’s a slow build-up of notes until all you can hear is the sweet sounds of his singing and the guitar.

It’s easy to hum along the song, and beat Alastor to the next lyrics. “The eyes that recognize each other at first encounter,” you sing along. It’s not as good as Alastor’s smooth and deep voice, but there’s no need to be embarrassed. “How did they slowly captivate my heart?”

And why would you be embarrassed? Deep down, you know that Alastor would never dare to judge you on this matter.

“I’ve been alone for so long yet you’ve been there all along.” Alastor shakes his head at you, smiling. “Oh, how magical, I’ll choose you every day.”

The way he sings it to you—as firm as a promise. It makes your smile widen even more.

“Oh, how magical,” you begin, “the feelings I have for you are clear.”

“What you make me feel is more than happiness. Everything’s understandable in the depth of your gaze,” he sings, looking straight into you. “Oh, how magical, I’ll choose you every day.”

“Oh, how magical,” you repeat once more, “the feelings I have for you are clear.”

“With a single turn on the wind, it brought you to me. I will choose nothing but loving you fully and wholeheartedly.” Alastor sings louder, making it obvious that it’s his song and not yours. “Peaceful in the embrace of your magic. Peaceful in the embrace of your…”

But you’ve never lightly taken anything.

Flashes of your time together filter through your mind. You like that word…‘Together’. Just as it should be. All the silly breakfast mornings, and the tired afternoon naps, and the sleepless but warm nights. All the ways Alastor likes to mess with you like pulling on your hair. All the ways you like to mess with him like undoing his bowtie for fun.

It’s everywhere.

It’s evident.

It’s you and him.

Together.

Alastor strums the guitar, and you listen until you both sing the end. “Oh, how magical, I’ll choose you every day.”

His eyes close as the last notes die down. There’s a smile on his lips when he tilts his head back against the tree. Dimples–how have you never noticed?

“New Orlean’s biggest and brightest start at my window in the middle of the night…I wonder what the papers will say?” you say, tilting your head to show off your wide smile. “You must like me very much—Don’t you?”

“Ha! My dearest, as if I could ever just ‘like’ you, and I’m pretty sure we’re well past that realm.” Alastor removes the straps of the guitar from around his body. “Can I come inside?”

“Sure, but it won’t be through the window,” you tell him, trying to add as much firmness in your tone. “Climb down, and I’ll open the door for you.”

“Let me in.”

“What a bold thing to say to a married woman,” you say. “My husband wouldn’t like it. He gets very protective of me.”

“Then shouldn’t he be here?”

“He’s probably off serenading some poor woman.”

Alastor sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Dearest, let me in.”

You know a losing battle when you see it, but you won’t go down without at least gaining something in return. “Only if you teach me how to play,” you say. “Then it will be my turn to sing for you.”

A cheeky smile. “You’re going to sing just for me?”

“Only for you.”

“I believe we have a deal.” Alastor offers the guitar to you, holding it across the air. “Do not drop it. It will take at least another year until we can afford another guitar.”

He tosses the guitar across the few feet of space between your window and the tree.

You let it slip between your fingers to feign dropping it. It slides against your fingers. Of course, you don’t let it slip too far, catching it just in the nick of time. The horror on Alastor’s face makes you laugh. Just a little payback, that’s all.

Alastor glares at you.

You show him your most innocent smile.

With a sigh, his glare lightens until it completely disappears with the constant prompting of your smile. “I swear–”Alastor runs a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you say, smiling softly. “I love you.”

“I love you as well.”

Alastor jumps the few feet from the tree and your window, then completely disappears from view.

One second.

Two seconds.

“Alastor!” You rush to the edge, poking your head out. “Alastor, I swear if yo—”

He pokes his head up the window, stealing a kiss from you. It’s a quick peck on the lips

“I’m going to close the window on your fingers,” you tell him, but lean in to brush your lips against his.

“Please don’t.”

You lean your head out the window, taking a proper kiss from his lips. It’s the same lips, yet they still bring the same butterflies even after years of marriage. Just a single kiss from this silly, silly, man, and you’ve reverted back into a ridiculous girl

Alastor pulls away first, and his arms shake as he grasps the window frame. “I don’t know how long I can keep holding on without falling, love,” he says, tightening his grip. “Let me in.”

He pulls himself up, using the strength of his body, and tumbles straight through the window and into the carpeted floor. Ladies and Gentlemen, Louisiana’s most eligible bachelor right here. Right here in your bedroom and all yours.

Alastor pulls on your wrist, taking you down with him and flush against his body. Long and warm arms wrap around your waist as he nuzzles straight into your hair. He takes a sniff…and another sniff…and another sniff. You choose not to comment on it

“I thought you fell,” you say, mumbling into his chest. Every breath he takes cranes your neck up and down.

Alastor hugs you tighter against him, laughing. “We had a deal, love,” he tells you. “And I would never go back on my word.”

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ

I'm going to be real honest with y'all. This is not my best work, but I wanted to finally publish this and move on. So here it is! Maybe I'll polish it, maybe I won't For my kababayans, I’m releasing a version with the original lyrics because so much of it gets lost in translation and Ben&Ben did not give us masterpieces for this to happen. I’ve got to tell you, the original lyrics hit differently when you understand them hahaha. Please keep in mind that I'm not an expert translator, I just formed it in the way it makes sense to read. Sneak Peek of the next song: Comets

123 notes · View notes

ssivinee · 1 year

Text

✧Wounded Heart✧

Part 1 | Part 2

BEBE! Bada Lee x F Reader: You've always been known as the smartest student in school, while Bada was known as the campus heartthrob and player. She decides to take advantage of her situation, but puts your heart on the line along with her passing grade.

Word Count: 9.2k

TW: Slight self harm

Note: This is the longest fic I've written so far😮‍💨. I felt so evil writing this, but I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY THE ANGST😈. ALSO, please check out my new rule. If not, it just warns blogs with no pfps and reblogs. I have a high chance of soft-blocking you, as I may get shadowbanned bc Tumblr can't defer you from bots.

Character Vision Board

You were never one to gain any attention from anyone. Frankly, you liked it that way.

Known as the most reserved yet nerdiest student in school, you were never called by your name. How could anyone put a name to your face when no one knew what it was. People had only given you the title of top student in university.

Most people knew of your existence, but by always wearing your oversized hoodie over your head, glasses, and mask, you kept your identity a secret amongst your peers. You survived high school like this, so being in your final year of university and still being able to maintain it was a breeze.

It was a regular Monday morning, and you sat in the library before classes, trying to freshen up on your Physics lesson yesterday. You woke up at 6 a.m. to get ready, showered, and ate breakfast with an energy drink before heading out to the library. That was your daily routine, the loner lifestyle, if you will.

As you typed away on your computer, the buzz of other students started coming in waves at 9 a.m., hitting the clock. That meant it was time to head to your first class. After multiple hours of classes, hand-cramping notes, and sitting in the back of every subject, you headed to your favorite class, computer science. For some reason, your brain was highly advanced in this area, making it enjoyable.

30 minutes go by, and just sitting in the back of the class, a tall, nonchalant figure walks in. You visibly see your teacher's face contort as she rolls her eyes at the student. The notorious Bada Lee came in late once again. You believed she began to do it on purpose at this point, as she stopped giving excuses for her tardiness by the second week.

The thought certainly loitered in the back of your mind. You never understood why Bada was the way she was. This was one of the few classes with several options, so if you wanted to avoid taking it, you had multiple other choices. Yet, even being late every day, she showed up and did the work.

Maybe not to the best of her abilities, but she still did it.

There were a few things to note about Bada. She was captain of the school's basketball team and had a distasting reputation. The campus player and heartbreaker. It felt as though, every week, there was new drama surrounding a girl whose heart got broken by the tall student, and it always made you want to roll your eyes every single time. Never understanding why these girls chased and chased, even when knowing their situationships wouldn't be the way it was from their fantasies.

Nearing the end of the class, everyone was getting ready to leave, but the Professor stopped anyone from going further. "Before you leave, I want to discuss the upcoming midterm project."

She pulls up the presentation on the board and explains, "This project requires you to make an updated website for the school. The requirements will be posted online by the end of the day, and I will assign you a partner for this. The highest grade will have their website be used as the new official website for our school. This will be due a month from now."

Everyone becomes surprised and happy at the prize for their upcoming trials. Your professor begins to list the names, and she gets to you, "Baek Y/n... and Bada Lee." Your heart sank instantly at those words.

You grumble with your head down. Out of all the people in the class, you got stuck with the one who'd rather mess with a girl at any chance she had.

Bada sits in her seat, brows furrowed. Who the fuck was Baek Y/n?

Bada knew almost everyone, but she'd never heard of that name. That's when the Professor lets everyone go, and she sees a girl walk up to the teacher. You wore the gigantic hoodie, and Bada couldn't see your face, but with all the gestures you gave your teacher, you seemed like you weren't pleased about something. When she hears you huff in annoyance, and your eyes meet hers while leaving, she sees anger bubbling behind them.

Bada gets up, confused, and heads over to the teacher. "Professor Min, who was that?"

"That was your partner Baek Y/n. You've heard of the top student before, right?" Her eyes double at the older man's words, and her face becomes extremely happy. She would undoubtedly be using this to her advantage.

"Now, don't think of trying to get the girl to do all the work, Bada. I'm allowing you to bring up your grade with this project." She nods furiously before heading out to tell her friends the news.

She sees them over at their school's common room, and her friends, Aiki, Noze, Lee Jung, and Emma, give her weird looks like Bada grew three heads. "Now, why is she cheesing now?" Aiki asks, and the taller girl replies with a smack to her arm.

"You guys won't believe who my partner is for my computer science project."

The four girls looked at each other and began naming several popular girls. Bada rolls her eyes at her friend's antics. "Well, you wanna tell us? We named like half the girls already." Noze says.

"Baek Y/n."

...

"Baek, who now?" Lee Jung looks at her in amusement, but your title shocks them, "Top Student." Their eyes grow wide. The group looked around the room to see if they could find you. "Her name is Baek Y/n?" Emma confirms, "She's in my class, so I'm pretty sure that's her name."

"Well, if you don't ace that project, she must hate you." Lee Jung jokes, making Bada think, "Truth be told, she didn't seem too happy about being my partner either."

"We wouldn't be happy either." "Can't blame her."

They kid around, but Aiki tells the girl, "You better stay on her good side. I'm sure if you don't do the work, she'll find a way to ensure you don't have a shared grade." "True, she's always been partnered with smarter kids, so she's never had an issue, but knowing you? You’re gonna need to play nice girl this time, Bada."

Bada scoffs at Emma's words, "She'll do the work by herself whether she likes it or not. Besides, I'm on everyone's good side." She shows a cocky grin, but Emma and Lee Jung specifically can't help but doubt her. "I don't know about this one. Doesn't seem like an easy girl to get through."

"Nah, have some faith in our girl," Noze says, patting Bada's hip. "Wanna bet on it?" Bada says, with pure confidence backing her up. "I get her to fall for me, and you owe me a month of doing all my assignments." Lee Jung smirks at the girl, "Deal."

"So when are you gonna start?" Noze asks as she eats her chips. "Not sure. Definitely not tonight, though. I'm seeing Redy after practice." All her friends roll their eyes at the girl's name, finding her ignorance ever so bothersome.

The next morning, you find yourself in the same spot as usual and have begun the project already. Bada finds herself looking for you on campus and figures, where do all nerds hang out?

The library.

She makes her way over, and as she enters, she automatically finds you in the corner of the large hall. "Hey there, partner," She greets, and you look at her dead in the eyes, "What are you doing here?" Your tone ached in annoyance.

"Come on, don't be like that. I want actually to try on this project."

"Fine. Let me ask you this first. Why are you even in computer science?" You were straightforward, your serious demeanor never fading. Bada is surprised by your daring question but never trembles, "I just thought it would be interesting." An irked scoff is heard from behind your mask, "Yeah, right," was said with an eye roll. Well, this is gonna be harder than she thought.

"I'm being serious. I wanna earn the grade as well." She whines slightly, and your eyes cry disgust. "Give me your number, and we can work on the project at my house after basketball practice." You grumble and slouch in your chair, and Bada, unconsciously, finds the position adorable as your oversized hoodie collapses on your body, "Sure," is all you mumble, not wanting any more trouble than there already was.

Bada grins as you write your information down on a purple post-it note and shows her excitement when you hand it over to her. You sat there as she left the library, wondering what she had planned for you. It wasn't like Bada to talk to nobodies to "do work." Yet the sooner you had this project done, the better you took her words with a grain of salt, hoping she was being at least a little truthful with her words.

You weren’t one to trust many people’s words, particularly from individuals like Bada, but you knew it had to be done for the sake of your grade. A hefty sigh leaves your body, and you try to go about your day without going too deep into it. During your last period, you feel your phone buzz and read an unexpected message.

Bada Meet me after practice at 5 PM at the gym. I’ll give you a ride so we can work on the project.

The recurring disdain takes over your face again as you read. You hate that you even had contact with the girl, so you just leave her on read as you remind yourself about the meeting. You would just have to wait for her, deciding to go to the school's garden as you let time pass. On the other end of campus, Bada stares at her phone in dismay, “Did she just leave me on read?” She mumbles to herself, and her fellow co-captain hears the uncommon words from the latter’s mouth. “Someone leaving the queen Bada on read? You don’t hear that every day,” Haechi tells the girl, and Bada sneers at the comment. “She’s just playing hard to get for now. Trust, she’ll fall for me by the end of the week.”

“Who is it anyways?” Haechi questions. “Baek Y/n,” she simply states, and the other’s eyes widen. “Like top student Baek Y/n?” Bada looks at her in confusion, “You know her?”

The latter shrugs, “We went to the same high school. She’s a sweet girl,” she adds, and Bada’s curiosity grows. “Sweet? Do you even know what she looks like?” “Nope, but if you care about your grades, she’ll notice and help you, even if you're struggling.”

Haechi was one of the few popular students in university who focused on her grades, so her statement wasn’t so out of the blue. “Know anything else about her?” Haechi briefly considers the inquiry, “She really likes energy drinks, from what I remember. She always drank the blue Monster cans.” But there was a slight hesitation in the co-captin’s voice.

“I know how you are, Bada, so I’m aware I can’t stop you from your plans, but try not to do too much damage to the girl. She’s too precious to be broken by someone like you,” Haechi tells her, and despite the brutal words, Bada doesn’t take it to heart, almost shoving it out of her mind.

“Don’t worry. I won’t.”

The practice continues for hours before Bada notices your small figure sitting on the bleachers, waiting for the little time left. She jogs her way over to you with a bashful smile, “Hey, let me just change, and we can head out.” You just nod, wanting to get out fast, but Haechi’s familiar face has your eyes smiling. “Y/n-nie! Long time no see,” she opens her arms, and you gladly hop down to hug her. Bada watched the interaction, not knowing how to react to this side of you. You looked overjoyed to see the girl, and she may not be able to see your face, but the new energy made her feel a sense of loss.

She didn’t understand why you favored Haechi but not her. They were both tall, popular basketball team captains and had similar recognition in school. The only thing Haechi had over Bada was her straight A’s in classes. Was that the thing that would get you to like her? Bada grumbled at the concept. She wasn’t failing or anything, or else she couldn’t play on the team, but ALL her grades were not close to par with Haechi’s, not even a little bit. When her attention returns to the two of you, she sees you handing a new water bottle to Heachi, who thanks you. “You two seem close,” she tells them, and her co-captain looks at you almost with cherishing eyes. “Y/n’s the best man. Helped me a lot throughout high school,” you wave your hands in denial. “Heachi, you did your best in high school with or without my help. You’re hard-working,” your voice appears in a softer tone. Bada wanted to roll her eyes hard, but she left you two to change.

Bada wasn’t jealous, but maybe being narked was the better way to express her feelings. The girl was the type of person to feel better and superior to everyone else, so the fact that Haechi was already on your good side had her deep in her cycling thoughts. She needed to work hard to get this version of you, and not just with the project.

When she finishes, she tells you to go with her, and you hug Haechi before leaving the court and going to the parking lot with Bada. As she drove, she tried to make some conversation. “You started the project, right?” “Yeah.”

“You might have to teach me a few things so I can actually help.” “Sure.”

“You like computer science?” “Yup.”

That. That was the substance you gave Bada after every question. It made her want to jump out of the moving car, her ego bruised by your one-word replies. She stops trying after 10 minutes, letting the silence overwhelm you two, and you couldn’t have been any happier with the lack of sound. The car pulls up to this large mansion, and you try to hide your awe. This house was huge. Probably being able to hold the capacity of 200 students. “Come on in,” she invites with the large open door.

When you entered, your eyes marveled at the marble architecture, the classical aesthetic being the prominent feature of the house. Bada then leads you to the living room, where you sit timidly on her couch. “Do you want anything to drink?” She asks you as your eyes still wander the house. “Um, I’m ok.”

“Well, let me just change before we start,” you nod, taking out your laptop and notebook, trying to get a bit comfortable for your peace of mind. You pull up the empty website domain with only your school's colors and a sleek banner that takes up a decent amount of the screen. After 10 minutes, Bada returns with gray basketball shorts and a tight wife beater as her top. Your eyes go up and down her figure before focusing on the monitor.

You were honest, and as much as you didn’t understand Bada’s playgirl mentality, you did understand her appeal to the female population in school. Her tall figure, the varieties of colors she’d use on her long hair that cascaded all the way down to her waist, and the hats she wore to hold a sense of mystery were the perfect formula for the way to a girl’s heart.

“So what should I do?” Bada says, sitting beside you, which had you scoot in the opposite direction. “We can split the parts. Professor Min already put up the criteria for the website. I can do the harder stuff like navigation, school history, subjects, majors, and minors.” You tell her as you view the recent handout your professor had put up. “That’s too much, no? All I’d have left is the decorating, department information, and help desk information. Why don’t I help you with the major and minors?” You look at her with bewildered eyes, “You sure? A lot of coding and linking goes into that?” The taller one nods confidently, “You just have to teach me, and I’m sure I’ll be able to do it.” You nod with some hesitation.

“How about we start brainstorming the website's theme, and we can start with the project next week?”

“Sure, but why next week? My practices always end at 5-6 PM, so we should have time.” You shake your head, “it’s not because of you. I'm just gonna be busy with the school council this week.” And Bada looks at you in surprise, “Your part of the school council?”

“Yeah, but I’m just the secretary. Since the sports events are around the corner, I have to oversee everybody and their work,” you explain. Bada feels the admiration brewing inside her. She was aware of your hardworking nature, well, everyone was. You were the top student for a reason, but this put you on a different playing field. On top of your multiple studies, you did your due diligence as a prominent figure on their school council.

“Well, why aren’t you the president?” You scoffed, following a pity laugh, “Bada, I can’t lead anyone to save my life.” She stares at you, not understanding your point, and you take notice. “I might be smart, but that doesn’t mean I have leadership skills.”

“Maybe I can help you,” the tall girl shrugs. She thought she was a good captain for her team, so with that credit, she could give you pointers. “It’s fine. I like my position. I get to help everyone.” The two of you let the time pass as you continued to work on the project before ending the night.

The next few days, you had a lot on your plate. You were running around the school, ensuring all the projects and events were being set up properly, writing reports, and then reporting to the president and vice president about overseeing.

During this time, Bada rarely saw you in class, and she thought about how busy you’d be. You weren’t lying, huh.

But on a Thursday afternoon, you watched the gym setup and saw Bada’s little group chilling on the bleachers. Another student, Doyoung, walks in with papers stacked in his hands. It was all the papers you needed to sign and read through, but a basketball flew in his direction before he could reach you. His head throbs as he drops the papers, and you see Bada’s groupies laughing as Bada yells, “Sorry, Do-ah, the ball slipped out my hands,” she says as she collects the ball and returns to the bleachers. You ran over to the boy, helping him get the papers and helping him up. “Doyoung? Are you okay?” You help the boy up, and he stares at you, dizziness coating his face. You glare at Bada, who catches a glimpse of your raging eyes, and she realizes her fuck up in an instant.

“Come on, let me take you to the nurse,” you say as you grab his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders. “Shit,” Bada says as she watches the two of you leave, you having the stacks of heavy paper sticking out of your bag. “Looks like your timing is off this time,” Noze teases, and Bada thinks she has to make it up to you. She ran out of the gym, trying to catch up to you. She found you settling Doyoung on the nurse's bench as you explained what happened, and to avoid punishment, she waited for you to leave the office before she could talk to you.

Walking out, you make eye contact with the basketball player and scoff at the sight. You tried to walk past her, but she stopped you, pulling your arm, “Y/n, wait.” You rip your arm away, feeling grossed out by her touch. “Did you feel cool?” You bluntly ask, and Bada is taken aback at your tone. “No, that’s not it-”

“Then what is it, Bada? It doesn’t take much to be nice, but it sure does take a lot of energy to be as rude as you.” The disappointment felt like knives to Bada’s heart. It felt like the same judgment she got from her parents, and now you were saying it to her? It made her want to suffocate six feet under. “I just wanted to be funny. I didn’t mean to hurt him. I’m sorry,” she mumbles as her head hangs low. “That apology shouldn’t be for me, asshole. Apologize to Doyoung,” you tell her, leaving her where she stands as you are still much to do. “Doyoung-ah, just text me later when you get home,” the younger boy nods, and you return to your busy day.

“Dude, I apologized to Doyoung yesterday, and she still hasn’t texted me anything about the project,” Bada tells her friends as she paced back and forth. “I don’t see what the big deal is,” Aiki says, and Bada looks at her in distress. “It’s a big deal 'cause I need that A to play in that prelims.”

“Maybe give her something to make it up to her?” Lee Jung suggests that Bada’s eyes grow at her words, remembering Haechi’s words. “The blue Monster,” she gasps, and her friends look at her weirdly as she runs off campus. Bada went to the convenience store, buying a can of Monster energy drink, some cookies, and an egg sandwich. It was early morning, so she knew she’d find you in the library at your usual spot.

Instead of being on your laptop this time, your eyes never left the papers you read and signed. Not even noticing her presence, Bada drops the bag lightly on the desk and pushes it in your direction. You look up, see the girl’s sorry face, and check the inside of the bag. “What’s this?”

“My apology to you for being a dick. I also apologized to Doyoung yesterday, so I’m in the clear.” You roll your eyes and sigh heavily, “Why are you like this, Bada?” Now she was confused, “What do you mean?”

“You're capable of being nice to people like me, so why can’t you do it to others?” Because other people won't help my grade, Bada thought. “I’m not sure,” Bada acts, trying to look ashamed. “But I know I’ll try my best to change,” she says, that confident smile taking place on her face again.

So, during the next few weeks, you worked with Bada. She did her best to show you the better version of herself. Yes, she was acting initially, but as time passed, she got comfortable with the routines. She attended classes earlier, paid attention, participated, and even studied. The week after the altercation, Bada had asked you to tutor her in certain subjects, and you gladly accepted, liking the direction of her change.

So, the two of you sat in her home on a Friday afternoon after school, and you were working on your chemistry assignments. You had become comfortable in the setting after working at her home a few times. “Y/n-ah, help me with this long-ass formula. It's confusing.” You giggle at the pout on her lips and check the screen. “The prefix is hepta- and check out the periodic table for the names.” You point to the table of chemical symbols, and Bada begins to understand the list of prefixes on the coffee table.

You continued your work and studied the current topic you guys were on. Bada looked at you, wondering, “I hope this doesn't make you uncomfortable, but why do you always wear a mask?” You pause, not expecting the surprise question. “It just makes school go by faster. Drama-free too,” you express, and Bada rolls her eyes. “But it’s just you and I here.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that it makes my life easy,” you state. “Look, tomorrow, when you come over for the project, come without the mask, please?” You look at her in confusion, wondering why she was pressing on so much. But seeing her giving you puppy eyes, you reluctantly agreed, “Fine.”

“Great! Now help me with this question, please?” You laugh at her struggle.

The next day, you woke up to prepare for the long day. You took a shower, did your everyday skincare, and ensured you looked presentable. You were much more alert about your looks when you didn't wear the mask. You wanted to feel confident and ensured you did when applying the lip oil and putting your hair in a high ponytail.

You took an Uber to Bada’s place and rang the doorbell. When Bada opens the door, she takes in your appearance. You were out of your uniform for once, and the hairstyle displayed your small face clearly. Bada looks at you fondly, not expecting such a pretty girl to hide behind the mask daily. Even with the glasses on, your eyes looked large, and your heart-shaped lips colored bright pink. The tall girl couldn’t pull her eyes away from your lips. They looked too juicy not to kiss.

“Are you gonna let me in, or should I just stay out here?” Bada shakes her thoughts away and moves to the side. “So you were hiding this the entire time?” She asks as she pats your head, and you swat her hand away. “You practically begged for this.”

“And I’m not complaining,” She continues, staring at you, “go to school like this man.” “Okay, it was one thing asking me to come to your house like this, but school? Never happening.” You tell her, settling your bag down on the couch. “Wait, we should work in my room today. My parents are gonna be home today.”

She leads you into her room, the cool gray walls blinding your eyes. You observe your surroundings, surprised to see the clean room. She puts your bag on the office chair and lets you sit on her bed. You began to talk about what you’ve done on the project, but as you talked, Bada wasn’t even concerned about your words, focusing on your body more. Your outfit made Bada want to have you moaning underneath her, chest rising up and down as you begged for more.

“Bada?” You check on her worryingly. “Yes?” She whispers, still not staring at your face. “Have you done the majors and minors?” “I finished the majors, but I’m still working on the minors,” she tells you, clearly still entranced. “Can you show me?”

“Oh, um, yeah,” She shakes her head and takes her laptop out, showing the work she had completed, and you were visibly pleased with the progress. “This is actually really good. Nice job,” your validation had her heart swelling as your grin held a tint of pride. “Maybe you can finish up the minors today? Just so your work goes by faster.” She nods and checks out all the work you’ve done as well. “You finished all of these? That fast?” She stares at the screen, astonished by the amount of stuff you did the past two weeks. “Anything that needs to be done on a computer, I can do in a quick flash,” you joke, but it holds some sincerity. “I’m trying to be like you, girl,” She comments, and you laugh.

“Let’s do this so we don’t have much left to do next week.” With those words, the two of you worked the entire day. By the next time you checked the time, you realized the hours passed quickly. “Damn, it’s already 4 PM?” This also makes Bada check her phone, “Oh, your right. You want something to eat?” “I wouldn’t mind that actually.”

The two of you enter her kitchen, and Bada heated up some leftover Chinese food she had left in the fridge. Once you guys were eating, Bada tried to get to know you more, finding your presence comforting. “So, Y/n, why do you work so hard in school?” Your mind malfunctions at the question, unsure if you should be honest with the girl. “Um~,” you start, slowly picking at your food. “It’s mainly for my mom. My dad left us for his other family when I was five, and she raised me all by herself. This is the only way to give her a good life after everything she has gone through.” Your voice said with a hint of sadness, and Bada watched your pretty face fall. You wiped away the slight tears that formed. “You’re a good person, Y/n. Never forget that,” She tells you, and you find your heart racing at the words. Bada never had this effect on you, but her words of encouragement made your day.

She was about to continue the conversation, but another tall, more mature woman walked in the room, eyes looking cautiously at the sight of you. “Bada,” she called your partner's name, and you look surprised at Bada’s figure. She straightened herself up, fixing her appearance slightly. “Mother.”

“Who is this?” The older woman’s hand points over in your direction, and before Bada can answer, you decide to try and please the stern woman. “My name is Baek Y/n mam. I’m Bada’s partner for our computer science project. It’s nice to meet you.” You bow at the woman, and her eyebrows raise at your politeness. “Good manners, proper style, pretty face, excellent speaker,” her mom states, as her gaze moves around your body. “You should be more like this, Bada.”

“Mom, not in front of her, please,” Bada’s voice goes small, and you regret speaking up. “What? It’s true. Instead of basketball, you should be a model student. I should thank your teacher for partnering you up with this young woman.”

“I don’t know how we failed to raise you. This is how you should’ve turned out,” The older woman goes to your side, using her two hands to present you as if you were a presentation. Bada’s feelings were in a whirlwind. She wasn’t sure if she could be mad at you, her mom, or just the world. Her mom wasn’t even wrong. You were perfect in every way, and she was the disappointment. Two different worlds were crossing paths, and she was beginning to wish she was partnered with another individual instead of you.

Your eyes grow at her mother’s harsh words, and you shake your head, moving away from the woman. She wasn’t even aware of Bada’s new changes and efforts the last few days, but she belittled her daughter. “Madam, with all due respect-”

“Y/n. Don’t,” The tall girl tells you, with a stern voice, her breathing going shaky. “You right, mother. I’ll do better,” Bada says, head hanging low as she walks past the two of you. “What a dramatic girl,” You hear her mom telling herself, and you do your best not to ridicule the woman. “I’ll go check up on her,” you bow and run up to Bada’s room, finding the door shut. When entering, her back was turned to you as she sat on the edge of her bed. You were about to reach out on her shoulder but halted when you heard the sniffles as they gradually grew heart-wrenching. You rush to Bada’s side without any reluctance, pulling her into a hug. The warmth engulfing Bada had her break down instantly, never having anyone hold her as you did. Your eyes teared up at the sounds of her hyperventilating, her grip on your shoulder becoming tighter.

You then thought this was such a common occurrence for Bada. She put up this facade in school, wanting the attention of other women, and finally understood where it all stemmed from. Bada just wanted to feel loved and longed for, but with a household like this, it felt so hard to even ask for. She shouldn’t even have to ask. It was her mother, after all.

“Bada, you’re doing your best. Don’t let your mom’s words take that away from you.” You whisper as you rub her back, “If you ever want to talk, you can always talk to me.”

Bada begins to calm down at your words, the shakiness in her voice fading away. “Thank you, Y/n-ah.” She whispers, leaving her head on your shoulders. She wavers and asks, “Can you come to my game on Friday?”

“Of course. I’ll be your personal cheerleader,” you quip, in a shot to make her feel better, which works when a cheesing smile forms on her face. “You’d only cheer for me?” “Maybe for Haechi as well,” you tease, and she hits your arm with a pout. “Okay, ouch. I’ll cheer for you only, damn. No need to get violent on me.” Bada laughs at your words.

You try to stray from the topic, but you can’t help but ask, “Does she talk to you that way all the time?” Bada sighs, “Yeah, basically every time she’s home.” The lightbulb in your head flickers when she says, “My house may not be as extravagant as yours, but how about we work on the project on my house on Tuesday? I’ll send you my address, and you can come over after practice,” Bada’s eyes shined at the proposal. “I’d be honored.”

So the following Tuesday, you come home and relax on your bed before deciding to take a shower, feeling the stickiness of your sweat getting to you. You changed into a large baby pink shirt and some pajama shorts. Deciding to get a head start, you started your other assignments before Bada could get there. You worked on your easy English paper as you waited for the time to pass and heard the doorbell. Your eyes checked the time, and seeing 6 PM, you already knew who it was. You open the door to find Bada changed into gray sweatpants, an oversized hoodie, and one of her iconic hats covering her head. “Well, Miss Bada, welcome to my humble abode,” you say, welcoming her in. Bada’s eyes roam around, taking in the simplicity of the house, finding it shocking as she took a liking to it. “It feels… homey,” She mumbles, and you pat her shoulder. “I have more space in my room. Let’s work there.”

Bada’s eyes wander to your exposed thighs when going up the stairs. They looked so thick and plump. Bada, never realizing the build of your body, wanted to grip your thighs until they were turning red. Once you let her into your sacred space, Bada sees the tiny potted plants you kept, shelves full of books, your desk looking organized, and your twin-sized bed and pillows wrapped in a light purple set.

“So I have the navigation and research of the school's history. I might leave that research for next week to work on other subjects today.” Bada nods, settling on your bed and opening her laptop, “What other assignments do you have to do?”

“I’m trying to finish my English paper and then study for next week’s Chemistry exam.” “CHEM EXAM?” Bada yells, startling you into a jump. “Yes, Bada, chemistry exam.” Bada rubs the back of her neck, “Can you help me study?” You smile at her, “Of course.” The two of you finished the topics you agreed to do today, and Bada explained that she only had the decorating left. “Y/n?” You hear a voice coming from downstairs, and you smile, “Yes, mom?”

“Did you and your friend eat yet?” Bada is bewildered at the foreign voice. Your mom knew she was here? “We haven’t yet!” You voice out as you put your hair up in a messy bun. “Come down and eat. I made some mandu and kimchi jiigae,” Bada’s eyes brightened at the names of the food. You giggle at her face and pull her into the kitchen with you. Bada makes eye contact with your mom, and the woman gasps. “Y/n, you didn’t tell me how beautiful your friend was.”

“Mom, stop~,” you whine as you give her a welcoming hug. Bada smiles at your relationship with your mom. It is the exact opposite of what she was used to. “Let me help you with setting up the table?” Your mom handed you the plates and utensils, “get comfortable, Bada. You’re about to eat some of the best food ever,” You tell the tall girl, trying to tease your mom, who laughs at your comment. “Come on, sweaty, sit down,” Your mom tells the basketball player as she puts both dishes at the center of your table.

“How was school you two?” Bada almost chokes on her first bite of food as your mom asks, not used to the motherly love. “Oh dear, here, have some water, darling,” Your mom pours a glass as you pat Bada’s back. “I’m sorry. Um, school was alright, thank you for asking,” Bada says, mumbling, and you smile pityingly at your mom. “Same mom, nothing new.”

“That’s good!” She finishes, letting you all eat in peace. “Have you rested this past week, Y/n?” You grin at your mom’s question, “You know I try and stop doing work an hour before I go to bed, Mom.” “That doesn’t count.”

You sigh, “Don’t worry. I plan to go to Bada’s game on Friday, so I’ll take a break then.” Your mom gets excited, “Really? Good luck with your game. I hope you guys win!” Your mom was joyful, even with what had happened in the past, which made her your hero. “I hope we win too, Ms. Baek,” Bada gives an appreciating smile. “Oh, please call me mom. Any friend of Y/n can call me Mom. She rarely has any friends, so,” Your mom whispers her ending statement, and you roll your eyes at her. “Can we not expose Y/n? Thanks,” You say, pointing to yourself. The two smile at your gesture, and Bada teases you, “She’s not wrong.”

“Look at what you started, Mom!”

After you ate and studied with Bada, it was already 9 PM as you walked her out of your house. “You’re mom is the sweetest person on Earth,” Bada says, a sense of peace taking over her as she held the bag of food your mom had packed for her. “I know,” you giggle, knowing how your mom was. She accepted everyone and anyone as long as they treated you and her kindly.

“Thank you, Y/n. You’ve been helping me so much recently, and I don’t know how to pay you back,” she says, bringing you into the tightest hug. Your chest pounded, feeling a new overwhelming feeling of emotions. You knew that you and Bada had become closer in the past few weeks, but now you blushed at her touch, making you nervous.

There was no way you were starting to like her, right? You believed Bada was changing for the better. She had stopped flirting with so many girls, focused more on school, and acted as a more proper captain for her team. That’s what you thought, at least.

It was Thursday morning, before Bada’s game, and she was chilling on her hour break with the rest of her friends. “How has the project been going?” Emma asks with genuine interest. “It’s actually really good,” She simply states, and her friends stare at each other, unsure of how to go about her answer. “You remember our deal, right?” Lee Jung asks the taller, reminding her of her words two weeks ago. “Of course, I do,” Bada’s words felt like a harsh smack to the face. Her statement simmered in her mind like she was lying to herself.

Bada knew she was changing, and whether she would like to admit it or not, the thought scared her. It was because of you and only you. She was never meant to go this deep or even this far with your friendship. She couldn’t help herself, though. She shared tears with you, personal issues her friends didn’t even know about, and even bonding with your own mother. Feeling like a brand new person, Bada felt liberated and accomplished. Lately, she thought she could stick up to her parents, defending herself from their judgmental words. Last night, during their family dinner, Bada’s mother and father had some words for her again. “Bada, your grades better be good this semester, or you’ll be sent to military school.” Her father tells her in an eerie, monotone voice. Bada looks at them, sensing betrayal. “Do you guys even love me?” “What kind of question is that?” Her mom gazes at the girl, the cold look never leaving her gaze. “You haven’t even noticed the effort I’ve been putting in the last few days. Everything I do is never enough for the both of you.” Bada’s parents were taken aback at their daughter's sudden outburst. “Maybe if you were putting this much energy before, we wouldn’t have to say anything to you,” her father points out. “It’s because of that Y/n girl. I should thank her for you.” Bada grumbles at the authority, not wanting to hear the same crap repeatedly. “I understand I may not have been the best child. Trust me, I know. But maybe if you two showed even the tiniest bit of compassion and love, I wouldn’t have turned out this way.” That statement had both her parents shut up, letting her words brew in their minds.

“Bada,” she hears your voice, pulling her out of her thoughts, and everyone looks at you. Your eyes looked at them weirdly as they looked surprised at your presence. “Are you free on Sunday? I have things to do on Saturday, but we can probably finish the project by the end of this week.” She smiles at you, “No problem, we only have a little to go anyways. It shouldn’t take that long.”

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you wave off, and Bada’s friends sat there, frozen at the exchange. “That might be the first time I’ve ever heard her voice,” Aiki says, hypnotized by your sweet voice. “I might have to snatch her up from you, Bada.” Noze kids, but Bada looks at her with stone-cold eyes, “No.”

Her friends sit there, unknowingly triggering something inside the tall girl. “It was just a joke, Bada, chill.” Lee Jung tells her as she shakes her head.

Emma looks at her, eyes growing at the assumption, “Are you falling for the girl?” Bada instantly looks at her like she’s crazy, “I just want to finish this project before you guys try anything,” she says, saving herself.

Being oblivious to Bada’s words, you were excited about her game tomorrow. Your outfit was planned. You had snacks and a Gatorade for Bada to drink during her match. Since Tuesday night, Bada had been running on your mind constantly, and you weren’t sure how to handle your feelings. It was the first time you were hardcore crushing on someone, and this project made it challenging to contain your emotions. Her presence, attention, and beauty had you fixated. Since this was a first for you, you wanted to slow it down, trying to navigate it as you went.

So when game day finally came, you wore your hair up in a sleek ponytail and wore an extra jersey that Bada had given you with the number 22. You paired it with some simple Air Forces and ripped baggy jeans. Keep up the mysterious facade. You had your black mask covering the lower half of your face. Everyone stared at you as you sat on the court, wondering what your relationship was with their school’s basketball captain. You only kept your eyes down, not enjoying the amount of attention you were getting.

Bada comes out from the locker room in full uniform and her eyes find your body, and an unconscious smile takes over her face. You looked adorable in the oversized jersey, and Bada just wanted to run up and hug you, but the game was starting soon, and the team had to warm up.

You space out, but the loud blaring of the alarm shocks you out of it. As a book-believing student, you weren’t familiar with the rules or how the sport worked, but Bada made it worthwhile. Bada was noticeably agile and had a massive amount of stamina compared to everyone on the court. As you watched and cheered after her every shot, a blonde girl noticed your attire. A scowl and a look of disgust replaced her cheers. You weren’t even aware of her, focusing on the tall girl the entire time.

When half-time took place, you handed Bada the drink you had prepared for her. Smiling at your gesture, she thanked you and sipped as their coach spoke to them.

The game started again, and as the timer was hitting the last few seconds, the score stood at 86-87, the score slim to the tee. Your heart beats anxiously as you watch Bada maneuver through the court. Haechi had passed the ball to her co-captain, and at 5 seconds, Bada had taken her chance at a three-pointer, and everyone held their breath as the ball spun around the rim. So when the ball fell in at the last second, all your school's students jumped and cheered at the epic finale. Bada looks over at you again, seeing your proud eyes on her. She blew a kiss at you, and you giggled as she celebrated with her team.

“Hey,” you hear her voice and turn around to see her sweaty figure, as her cheesing grin never leaves her face. “Wait for me at the parking lot? I’ll give you a ride home.” She offers, and you nod, pulling down your mask, not wanting to hide your thrilled face. “You were amazing out there, Bada.” The sincerity of your voice made Bada weak to her knees, and she felt giddy inside. “Thanks. I’ll see you in a bit, okay?” You nod, leaving the gym to the parking lot, where you wait, sitting on a bench. When Bada watches you go, she feels the butterflies in her stomach and stands there terrified. The girl started falling for you, the feelings piling up since your first study session. This couldn’t be happening. Bada’s pride wouldn’t let it happen, so she had to do something about it fast.

20 minutes had passed, and Bada still hadn’t come out. Worrying began to fill your mind. You kept checking your phone every minute, and the same anxiety overtook you. You decided to look for her, which honestly didn’t take long. You turned the corner of your school's building. You saw two figures holding each other tightly as they enthusiastically made out with each other.

Due to the darkness of the night, you squinted at the sight, but as it became clear, your heart broke into a million pieces, feeling like it was now dust. It was Bada and another girl. They pull away from each other, breathing heavily, and you hide behind the corner you turned from. “What about that other girl?” The unfamiliar voice asks. “What other girl?” “The girl wearing your jersey?” You swallowed lightly, your chest becoming heavy in your current position. “She’s no one, baby. Don’t worry about it. She was just a little bet.” You hear her, and you sob in silence, walking away from the detrimental scene that just occurred right in front of you.

You sit at the curb, staring at the stars, and laugh at yourself, “You’re so stupid, Y/n. So stupid,” you mumble, the tears getting harder to contain as Bada’s words repeat in your mind. Of course, you were just a bet for her. You were just another girl added to her collection, and it made you fall into despair. She cried to you and opened up, yet you were just another girl. You hit your head lightly in frustration with yourself. “Y/n?”

You jolt up from your spot, wiping your staining tears away, and turn around to find Haechi, who looks at you worried. “You okay?” You nod with a deep breath and huff, “Yeah, just feeling down right now. No biggy,” you try saving yourself, but the cracks in your voice tell the girl otherwise. “What are you still doing here-” She was about to ask but realized what may have happened since she saw Bada walking out with some blonde student from her Physics class. Haechi’s face was now painted sorrowfully, engulfing you in a hug. Her touch had triggered the waterworks again, and you were now crying again, breaths getting weaker when each tear dropped. “I’m so fucking stupid, Haechi. I hate her. I hate her so much,” the tall girl rubs your back, letting you release your anger and sadness. “Don’t say that Y/n-nie, you’re the smartest girl in school. Bada is just… ruthless.” Haechi states, some rage hiding under her voice. She had warned Bada, and the captain still went against her word. “I’m like every other girl, Haechi.”

The tall girl pulls away, shaking her head furiously, “No. No, you’re not. Come on, let me take you home.” You nod, too tired to say anything and sit in Haechi’s car, taking a nap on the way home as you wasted so much energy.

Bada was now trying to look for you everywhere, not noticing how long she took, keeping you waiting.

Bada Y/n? Where are you?

She waited for a response, but it never came. She began to worry but let the win of her game control her mind. An hour later, she was home, and you just got back to her.

Y/n-ah😚 My mom wanted me to go home early. Sorry.

Bada sighed in relief. At least you were safe at home. She was about to respond, but you texted her again.

Y/n-ah😚 About the project, don’t worry about it. I’m finishing it tonight and sending it to Professor Min tomorrow morning.

The tall girl furrows her brows.

Bada Are you okay?

Y/n-ah😚 Splendid.

Safe to say, Bada was terrified at your one-word answers. She felt back at square one, but little did she know she wasn’t even close. Not anymore.

The next time Bada saw you, you were both in school, and she approached you with your favorite drink. “My payment for last week,” she says, handing the drink to you, and you dismiss the interaction instantly. “I’m good,” you tell her and just walk away. Bada stares at you in confusion and is about to go after you but sees you standing at Haechi’s locker. From afar, her co-captain seemingly handed you a blue Monster can, and you hug the girl, thankfully. The interaction had Bada bothered and angry. You took Haechi’s drink but not hers?

She would talk to you about it one way or another, but she couldn’t find you the entire day. The fact that you didn’t have computer science today didn’t help the matter. So Bada decided to talk to you at your house. The rain began to pour, but it wasn’t stopping her from finding out what was wrong. She rang the bell at your gate, unsure if you were home, but when you opened the door, a glimmer of hope sparked until you spoke. “Go home, Bada.”

“What?” “I said go home,” your monotone voice made her want to hide. “Y/n, talk to me, please?” “Why should I?” She looks at you in shock. “What happened?”

“You wanna know so bad?” You walk up to the gate, anger fueling your eyes. Not even caring about the pouring weather. “Somehow, me being the smartest girl in school means nothing when it comes to you.”

Bada didn’t say a word, not knowing where this conversation was going. “Congrats, Bada, you made the top student in school look like the most mindless person in the world.” Bada’s eyes widen, “what do you mean-”

“Oh, don’t act stupid.” You groan and look at her with eyes of disgust. Bada sunk into the thought. She was back to square one. “I seriously don’t understand-” “You don’t understand sucking off another girl’s face while I waited for you in the parking lot? God, when I thought there was progress in your thought process these past few weeks, but I guess I was wrong.”

That’s what froze Bada, her heart dropping at the statement. You saw and heard everything. Bada only wanted to beg for forgiveness right then and there, but she knew she had no right to. It's not like you were gonna accept it anyway. “Y/n I-”

“Just save it, Bada. You don’t have to explain yourself. I get it. I’m just another girl, right? Or what was it you told blondie? A bet?” Bada had no words to save herself, wanting the ground to swallow her whole in shame. “Forget about it, Bada, forget we were ever friends.” You left the conversation at that, slamming the front door behind you. That’s when you broke down. The crying just couldn’t stop, kneeling on the floor of your home as the dreadful silence filled your ears as you heard the heavy rain and thunder pouring outside the windows. For once, you hated the silence.

The next day, Bada wanted to try and apologize again. She looked and looked, not finding you anywhere on campus. She then looks for her second-best bet and sees her standing with her friends. “Haechi!” Bada runs up to the girl as she waves her friends off. Her co-captains eyes held frustration, and it told Bada she also knew the situation. “Do you know where Y/n is?” “Why? So you can break her even more?” Bada knew to expect this, but she wasn’t expecting to be cornered by the girl who shoved her into the lockers.

“I fucking told you, Bada, but what Bada wants, Bada gets, right?” Haechi’s pointer finger drilled into her chest, and the captain winced in pain. “I-I wanna make it right.” “Too fucking late.”

Bada’s body ignores the pain at her words, “What do you mean?” Haechi looks at the girl whose eyes began to water slightly. “She’s leaving for the States. The school gave her an internship for 5 months.” Bada’s world crumbles, and she takes out her phone, sending you multiple messages.

Bada Y/n, I’m sorry. Please don’t go. It was a mistake. I was stupid. I was falling for you, and I was scared. Y/n?

Bada’s tears were uncontrollable as they fell, reading how her messages weren’t sending. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” Bada was now beating herself up in the middle of the hallway. She was hitting her head hard with her fist, pulling her hair harshly, and everyone who saw looked at her in worry. Haechi was shocked at the girl’s actions, seeing how bad she genuinely felt. She did her best to pull Bada’s arms away, and Bada slid down to the floor, blubbering as Haechi did her best to stop the girl from hurting herself. “I’m so fucking stupid, Haechi.” Her teammate didn’t know how to respond, just holding Bada’s arms down as she cried her pain away.

A/n: SHIT IS INTESNE RN DAM.

Tag list: @chipswsauce @nimixe @yooqui @eeeetaetterswife @efyyylee @froufrousnowman @amararosesblog

#gxg #wlw #bada lee #bada lee x reader #bebe #street woman fighter 2 #street woman fighter x reader #swf2 x reader #swf 2 x reader #swf x reader #bada lee x fem reader #ssivinee

952 notes · View notes

dollfaceksj · 10 months

Note

I'm gonna cry if he's mean to her 😭 she would definitely deserve it, I just wouldn't like it though

a/n: early cal update bc i won’t be able to post this weekend. 🫶🏽

can’t afford love | myg (m) #22

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⇠ PREV. ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ⇢

WHAT DO YOU DO?

“I don’t want to be alone.” — 91,4%

GO HOME ALONE — 8,6%

382 votes

you chose:

“I don’t want to be alone.”

↓

“i don’t want to be alone.”

you say it without even glancing at him

scared of

rejection? disbelief? annoyance?

and in your peripherals you see yoongi typing away on his phone

doesn’t even glance your way

immersed in his phone

you awkwardly scratch at the back of your head

wondering why he’s straight up ignoring you

well

girl…

clearly you’ve forgotten about what the hell he confronted you with before leaving for the hospital

he has every right to just not be in the mood to even deal with you

so what if you don’t want to be alone?

he definitely didn’t want to be slapped in the face with that revelation from earlier but you still did it

“yoongi?” you say, quietly, hoping to grab his attention

but he simply keeps typing

doesn’t glance your way

you swallow your pride and reach for the door handle, opening up the car door

the sound of his belt unbuckling and snapping back in place takes you by surprise

you turn to look at him and he’s preparing to get out of the car as well

you decide not to comment on it as you get out and close the car door quietly

make your way home

with yoongi in your wake.

with your shoes kicked off by the door and your clothes messily thrown over your dresser, you slide into your pajamas

yoongi’s still on his phone, sitting on your bed

you know you deserve a cold shoulder but damn

you glance at him before getting into your bed, turning your back to him

you’re not sure he even wants to look at you

but then again, why did he decide to stay the night?

is it pity?

you suppose it is

cause if you’ve ever seen yoongi pissed off it was earlier today

“yoongi,” you say, trying to catch his attention yet again

this time he simply hums in response

you ask, “what are you doing?”

…

no response whatsoever

you frown at the wall

(since your back is turned to him)

“yoon–”

“give me a second, will you?”

okay

he sounds a bit irritated

but that’s the least he should be

he has every right to scream your head off

and yet, all thats coming out of his mouth are words laced with annoyance

he’s been on his phone since you got out of the car

who is he talking to?

is he ignoring you or is he really just preoccupied?

but who could he be texting this late at night?

you can’t help but be curious

“who are you even talking to?”

and why are you ignoring me?

no, not why

you know why

and he has every right to be mad at you

“my boss, y/n. jesus.”

his boss?

why is he talking to his boss?

at this time of–

oh.

is he

asking

for a day off tomorrow?

he took out his phone the moment you told him you didn’t want to be alone

has he been trying to get a day off? is that why his nose has been buried in his phone?

he finally locks his phone with a click and rises to his feet. “goodnight.”

you suppose he’s going to take the couch

“wait,” you call out, back still turned to him.

you hear him halt in his tracks, waiting for you to say whatever it is you need to tell him

“sleep here,” you pause. “with me.”

you almost choke as you try to get the words out

it makes you so nervous

will he think it’s a bad idea?

will he comply?

will he tell you that–

a few more moments until the bed besides you dips a bit deeper

okay

he’s in bed with you

back to yours

so close

yet soooo far

it feels like there’s a brick wall with a girth worth of 5 meters

he sighs quietly and rubs his eyes.

takes a deep breath before he says, “let’s talk.”

you’re quiet for a moment

simply staring at the wall

trying to steady your breathing

you begin, “what do you want to talk abo–”

“don’t piss me off.”

alright

you guess you deserved that one

you sigh quietly and turn onto your back to stare at the ceiling. “i’m sorry.”

he doesn’t respond

“i was selfish. what i did was selfish.”

again, no response

it’s quiet between you two

real quiet

until he finally speaks. “can i be shallow for a second?”

huh?

“oh,” you mumble. “go ahead.”

“you know,” he starts, “i married you not only because i liked you so much but because i thought you were the most beautiful woman i’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

he continues, “well, in all honesty, i still do.” he doesn’t move, just continues to give you his cold back. “aside from having imagined to spend the rest of my life with you because i really believed it was going to happen, you, as a person, are everything i wanted and more.”

you continue to stare at the ceiling, feeling a tingle in your body that starts at your feet and slowly grows throughout the rest of your body.

“and not to be fucking gross but you turn me on so fucking much. was watching you eat my food last week and got so fucking hard just looking at you. you’re so elegant and sexy with everything you do. i look at you and feel so fucking lucky to have been part of your life.”

you clench your jaw in an attempt to block yourself from breaking out into a sob

“i can’t put it into words, y/n but, no matter what stage we’re at, i’m always gonna be so fucking attracted to you. stretchmarks and loose skin—i literally can’t bring myself to give a fuck. i don’t care what size you are or if if you’re bigger than you were at 18. isn’t that normal? you carried a baby for nearly a year. so what if you weigh more now? whatever. more to love.”

….

oh.

okay.

and that’s

how you

start tearing up

your heart feels like its been shattered into a million pieces

and it’s yoongi who is holding the level 100 5 star sledgehammer weapon

but it’s also yoongi who has unlocked the ultra healing magic buff

“it must have been so hard for you.” he slowly turns onto his back too, allowing you to look at the side of his face. “i’m sorry for not taking all of it into consideration. in my defense, i’ve always thought you were perfect.”

you sniff quietly and bring your hand up to wipe your cheeks. you shake your head. “don’t apologize. please.”

it’s quiet again and he continues to stare at the ceiling in silence

“i just wish you would have been comfortable enough to tell me.”

and you wish that too

but it’s embarrassing

and humiliating to even think about, let alone trust someone else with it

he finally turns onto his side to face you. “i really do mean it when i say you’re the most beautiful woman,” he pauses, “until we have a daughter. then she’s gonna be the most beautiful cause she’ll look like me.”

a soft giggle escapes you as he jokes, welcoming it with open arms

you look up at him, eyes glued to the small smile on his lips

“i’m so sorry, yoongi.”

“i know you are. i am too.”

“are you mad?”

he thinks about his answer for a moment. “i was at first. thought i was gonna smash my car with my bare fists.” he nods. “but i don’t think it’d be right for me to be mad at you for struggling so much with something i failed to see. i guess i’m just..” he sighs. “upset about the whole thing. it could’ve been avoided.”

you sniff quietly. “how? how was i supposed to tell you i just wanted to enjoy more time with you when it was me that forced the divorce down your throat? it wouldn’t be fair, not to you.”

how are you supposed to tell the man you forcibly kicked out that you weren’t ready to let go of him?

he rubs his forehead. “why did we ever let it get that far?”

you stay quiet

sniff again

wipe your nose and wet cheeks

“because i was selfish and childish. i wanted you to chase me and convince me that i only belonged to you.” it feels good to finally speak honestly. “i suppose you were done playing those games.”

“why were you still playing those? i thought we could be adults so many years into our marriage.”

“because,” you start, “i was bored. i didn’t do anything. i was home constantly, i didn’t go out. i didn’t have shit to do. you were barely home,” you say shakily, trying to swallow down the sob that’s threatening to spill

“just wanted to feel something whenever you showed up but i was just…” you sniff again. “…so mad at you for leaving me lonely that instead of trying to fix things, i wanted to piss you off. make you mad. make you feel the way i felt.”

it’s quiet

you try to stop yourself from sobbing quietly but to no avail

“so long story short, you started shoving divorce papers down my throat in hopes i’d chase you and just say fuck you to my responsibility as your husband and jun’s father to make sure we had food on the table.”

well

you don’t even really respond to that

because isn’t that basically what happened?

yes, sure, you were bored

but yoongi’s feelings shouldn’t have been messed with

he doesn’t say much else

just turns his back to you again and says,

“let’s sleep.”

and you try.

even though it’s nearly impossible with that agitating knife that’s nestled in your heart.

to be continued

⇠ PREV. ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ⇢

— enjoyed it? you can always show your appreciation by buying me some coffee if you want ☕︎♡

@pamzn @jknoah @ahgasegotarmy116 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @Teddytaee @pnkmyg @yoongallery @agustdswifey @purp13st4r @busanstarkoo @busanboykoo @kookssecret @p34rluv @xumyboo @jojowantstocry @minjenna @codeinebelle @Futuristiclovedreamland @rirushu @taegicity @namgihours @ultminyoongi @swinterr @butterymin @partyparty-yah @bettybloop @secfir @coffeedepressionsoup @keroppitae @manuosorioh @whoa-jo @etaerealboyv @kaiparkerwifes @luvjiminandyoongi @luvbeomkai @petalsofink @paradiseyoongies @gaby-93 @MMFranklin @llallaaa @vickyyy97 @osakis-gf @luna-astro-star @shabbamadapot @rrrapmonste-rr @jjeonjennie @yoongisducky @s3l3n0phil3 @itsmina29 @namjoonsbuspass @hoseokshobagi @laurenrodr @keshiadeija @acquiescence804 @swga-ficrecs @sato-hana02 @honsoolhour @gaby-93 @kimseokgen @Imene1609 @joonsmagicshop @yunki-yunki-yunki

337 notes · View notes

aphroditedahlias · 4 months

Note

What if Bully Eren Victim is self-harming because of him or even worse commits suicide?

Yandere bully eren x self h4rming reader<33

woahhh, never wrote anything like this before, but i gave it a try! ps. masterlist updated!!!

TW : Self harm, skin carving, blood, and light non con ( not full scene)

This is a little short and not proofread lolololol the last time i posted a fic was in july 2022 so if this is trash lmk.

The heat of your room is suffocating as you drop your bag and tug at your jacket. June is approaching and a new month means new opportunities to wear cute new outfits for most people. You on the other hand have no choice but to make the awkward switch from heavy winter clothes to lightweight winter clothes. The ugly lines that cross your arms , stomach , thighs, and even hips are stinging reminder of why you couldn’t even think of wearing something other than hoodies and sweats. Not only are they the only things that conceal your scars, they don’t tug and irritate them throughout the day which is another plus.

Eren had been feeling particularly irritable all week, naturally deciding to take it out on you. Although you finally made it through the week you flunked yet another test. Your grades have been taking more of a toll then ever, lowering your gpa to an unredeemable average. You were numb to the disappointment of your grades at this point and the only thing that allowed you to feel alive was the secret you kept tucked away in the privacy of your room. after grabbing your coping mechanism and taking off your sweater you slid down the wall, taking your time to enjoy the coolness of it against your too hot skin. Your thighs were running out of room. Faint lines cross your biceps and so today you’d decided on your lower forearm to bare the weight of your week. You lowered the blade and slowly withdrew your stress. As little beads of blood came about, each one releasing just a little of the darkness Eren had created inside you. You were so lost in your comfort and hurt you started and nicked yourself particularly hard when you heard banging at your door.

Quickly you threw on the sweater from today and made your way to the front door, looking out the peephole.

“ Open the fuck up y/n, what did i tell you about making me wait.”

Eren.

Your heartbeat double in pace. You wondered what would be your demise first, your heart stopping from fear of the angry look on Erens face , or the way you just knew he would choke you out for making him wait.

You swiftly swung the door open while midnight a small apology.

“ I’m sweating like crazy so why are you sitting in this hot ass house with that sweater on?” he sneered, using his t/shirt to wipe his upper lip dry.

“ i had the ac on in my room i got a little chilly.”

“ so why is it still so hot in here? and there’s no Ac in that fucking hell hole of a school and you still had it on today, what’s your deal.”

“ Nothing I-“

He interrupted you by kicking the door closed behind him and pushing you against the wall before lowering his face to your neck.

“ Mmm baby you smell good.” he said, licking your neck.

Panick arose once again becuase the broad daylight would allow eren to see everything. The last few times he’d assaulted you had either been in a dark empty class room or with the lights off in the dead night of your room.

Before you had the chance to protest he was pulling the sweatshirt off of you.

You both stood in silence as he peered closely at your body, watching as you began to subtly quiver.

“ Y/N, what the fuck is this? “ He seethed, grabbing your arm, not caring about the blood clearly still oozing form your open wounds.

You had no answer, and you kept your head bowed in shame.

He pulled you by the arm into your bedrock before pushing you down on the mattress.

Wasting no time he stripped you free of the rest of your clothes and examined all the scars you’d given yourself.

He laughed to himself as he flipped you over and pushed your head down into your pillows before pulling you up the hips.

“ Count ” he said.

you felt a harass smack and jolted forward, trying to escape the assault.

“ one!”

you silently said a prayer to anyone who would be looking down on you.

Smack after smack you counted and cried out.

Just when you thought it was over, you heard something click and felt the sharp coolness of something against your ass.

“ Eren? what-“ you said sniffling.

You let out a whimper as you felt what you know knew was a blade lightly digging into you.

The agony was much worse than anything you’d put yourself through , you skin had a second heart beat and you could feel the blood dripping down your legs concerniny fast. You cried and begged for him to stop but he paid you no mind as he continued carving your delicate flesh.

Minutes passed by and you swear that you’d lost consciousness, fading in and out of black a few times.

Eren chuckled.

“ I’ve thought about doing this so many times. You have no idea how many times i’ve fucked my hand, making my cock cum over and over until i was sore thinking about making you permanently mine.”

Still dazed and confused, you had no reaction to his words or to the shutter of a phone that meaning he’d definitely photographed his work.

His finger spread your lips, using his thumb to tease your hole before spitting into it. He didn’t bother much foreplay before impaling you his thick and veining cock.

“ Fuck.”

His voice dipped and his breathing got heavier.

He used one hand to rub at the little nub that had you quickly seeing stars from the pain and pleasure mixed together. He used his other hand to pull you up by the neck so that tori back was touching his. He kissed your neck hard, biting and suckling at the skin to leave even more bruises. Tears fell down your eyes and whines left your lips as he pounding into from behind. You could feel the blood starting to dry and crust up on your ass making it even more discomforting to feel his movements.

removing his hand from your clit, he picked up his phone from off your bed and flashed you the screen.

In big red bruised letters red

Erens whore.

His sultry voice was almost tuned out by combination your ringing ears and the slapping of his hips against your wetness but you still heard him in your ear

“ Your heart , body, and soul is mine. Your skin belongs to me, and the next time you think about cutting what’s mine you won’t live to regret it.”

Eren never made empty promises… if you’d ever decided to hurt yourself again, you’d be signing your death certificate.

Ask box is open, send in lots of requests because i’m gaining motivation to post!!!

©️aphroditedahlias 2024

TAGLIST - DM to get taken off!!

@kaykaylolz420 @hisokaswhoree @dabis0bitch @sad-baddie001 @sukunas-left-nut-sack @QueenMissFit @darkuni63 @bakugous-titties @darkuni63 @captainhoneythebunny @shintax-error @Bluetima @shinycherrysblog @Awhore4anime @kawaiipotatoxox @leeyumeko @lilsubbysblog @harmonyglitz @ebiharachan @iwaizumisbicep @acciodignity @gratisuna @itszero16@gloomiigloom @cuklordburning @denkis-sluttyboy @disgustingpunk @cookiesformytummy @moonlit-mizukage @maggiecc @sunasconcert @ebiharachan @l0v3m3xo @itsuki-yuuma @uwiuwi @karasukakikomi @simpxxslutxx @mrsushiwakaflaka @shadoweepingscream @werewolfsupersoldier @desiray562 @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @neeheehe

@kaykaylolz420 @yumuramma @seraphqueen123 @meromelodi (all fics pls ) @shigamiryuk @hotwings0203 @ewsenpai-blog

#tw dark content #cw dark content #tw yandere #tw non con #tw noncon #yandere attack on titan #yandere noncon #yandere eren #yandere eren x reader #tw self destructive behavior #light angst #aot angst

138 notes · View notes

ilovebuckers5 · 5 months

Text

*•♡never be like you pt 3 ♡¸.•*'

nika muhl x cheerleader!reader

"I'm falling on my knees. forgive me, I'm a fucking fool "

word count - 2.3k

themes :

-angst if you squint

-smut

warnings :

-public sex

-fingering

a/n - sorry for how long it took me to post this. writers block was biting me in the ass. enjoy the smut!!! ( I did not spell check sooooo sorry)

the days between when I asked Nika to the concert and the actual concert were hell. all I could think about was her. and the occasional thought about what Farah was planning for fucking over Asher but that's for another day.

finally, it was the day of the concert. I had already ordered an outfit from about a million different websites but it came together perfectly. I was going to be basic and just where a purple skirt and a white top but the more I looked in online stores, the crazier (and shinier) my outfit got. I decided on a sparkly purple blazer and a black mini skirt with a matching black tube top. the only shoes I could find were purple doc martins so that's what I went with.

the moment I stepped out of my closet to show Farah my outfit, I was convinced that she dropped dead. her hands slammed on the desk she was sitting beside. she stood up and ran her hands over the shoulders of my blazer. "its so fucking good oh my God. I'm kind of mad at you actually. I wish I came up with this." her eyes and hands traced over my entire outfit in awe. before I could even look at myself in the mirror, Farah began taking way too many photos. "I'm sending these all the Nika." that's when I slapped the phone out of her hand.

i almost broke my nose diving for her phone to delete all the pictures. the last thing I wanted was for Nika to see me in a ridiculously glittery outfit with anything else done. if I was doing a big reveal for her then it would have to be when I'm fully ready.

while Farah changed into her outfit, which was a mystery to me, I started doing my makeup. the concert was in 3 hours from now and the venue was 1 hour and 30 minutes away. so as long as Farah didn't take forever getting ready, we would be fine. of course that's as long as Nika was ready.

------------------------------------------------------------

nika's pov

to be honest, I've only heard one Olivia Rodrigo song in my entire life. and its not like I hated it but it wasn't my type of music. but because I love concerts and y/n, I turned on a playlist with her music and started getting ready. me, Farah, and y/n had made a group chat just for this occasion. we barely talked in it, more of just updating each other on where the concert was at and what time it was. the only appropriate outfit I could find was a pair of black jean shorts and a purple tank top. when I tried showing a couple of the girls on my team, I've never gotten more disapproval. they forced me to get letters and designs ironed on the top so once the outfit was put together I had a purple tank top with the words 'sorry my guts spilled' on it with my shorts and a purple pair of Nike dunks that I had to borrow from Paige. oh yeah, the group chat was also used for outfit checks. so I got sent pictures of outfits on racks, hangers, beds, floors, and people. I couldn't care enough to do all that so I just sent a picture of my outfit once it was on me.

farah and y/n had to have been the most hyped up girls I've ever met. they couldn't stop spamming the group chat when they saw my outfit. it honestly felt nice. I didn't do much makeup because I knew how hot those stadiums got. I just put on some mascara and lip liner and I was ready to go. I didn't want to end up looking a mess afterwards, I guess the girls did though.

when I was getting ready, one song sort of stuck out compared to all the others. love is embarrassing. I kind of related to it. loves was never really my thing. at least in college it wasn't. love seemed like something that would get me distracted. as much as I adored seeing other couples out on dates and couples going to each other's event like sports games, it seemed well, embarrassing to me.

i tried to keep it like that.

the time that the girls spent getting ready on seemed to go by slower than ever. i found myself sitting on my bed and my couch and every other surface ever. when finally i got a text.

'we're here!'

i launched myself off of the ledge of my counter and grabbed my bag. i made sure to bring a couple extra water bottles and other necessities so that if anyone ran out, that actually wouldn't.

the moment i sat in the car, the energy shifted.

when i looked from afar, the girls were going back and forth with no music playing. as if one or the other was panicking about something. but when i got there, they acted normal as ever. weird.

"heyyyy! you ready?"

fatah squealed, shaking my shoulder. i smiled in return while nodding my head up and down.

"yess! let's go!"

i wanted to talk to y/n but she barely looked at me. i couldn't tell if it was out of fear or if she just forgot to say something but i knew it didn't feel that good.

the entire car ride was filled with the two girls informing me about olivia rodrigo's songs and who they are about and who she's dated. and to be honest i was pretty invested. more than any other artist. the girls knew every lyrics to every song and it made me feel out of place but i knew i'd settle in once i heard her live.

"oh my god and just a little while ago she released guts spilled!"

i couldn't help but tilt my head in confusion.

"what's that?"

the girls gave eachother a look as if they were about to stop the car and put on a performance of what 'guts spilled' is.

"it's like a bonus to guts! it has five new tracks that basically everyone was waiting for!"

i could tell that this was something y/n had been waiting to be asked about. the pure joy in her face and voice brought a light smile to my face. her eyebrows were raised and her eyes were open wide.

"i think you'll like obsessed and girl i've always been..." farah leaned back to look at me and whisper.

the rest of the car ride was pretty fun actually. we spent time memorizing lyrics. well. they spent time helping me memorize lyrics and eventually i got lost in the music, making the time on the road go by extremely quick. by the time we were at the stadium, i had basically learned all the lyrics to both of olivia's albums. farah and y/n were so proud.

this parking lot was more packed than any concert lot i've ever been to. i mean every single spot was taken. we had to park on the street and speed walk to the stadium. we got in after what felt like hours of checking bags and tickets and whatever. and once we were in? it was cold.

cold and mildy empty. we had gotten there around 40 minutes early so we found the pit and hung around until the entire stadium was full.

when the light went off, i felt the entire aura switch very quickly. there was a different artist opening. and while i had heard of olivia once or twice around social media, i had never heard of chappell roan. of course farah and y/n had because they began screaming every single lyrics. the music actually was bad so i started to dance along and hum to as much lyrics as i could understand.

finally there were purple lights flashing and olivia came out. i couldn't help but scream along with everyone because as much as i tried to hide it, i was pretty fucking excited.

------------------------------------------------------------

y/n's pov

i don't think i could express how badly i want to wrap my arms around nika just for her coming. we were basically strangers and she came to a whole concert with us. a normal person wouldn't just do that. nika would.

i won't lie, the way our shoulders bumped up against eachother while we were dancing and singing felt even better than hearing olivia rodrigo live.

there were even moments where the air was steamy but bearable. i'd take a second to look to the side and there nika would be, already looking at me as if she was waiting for our eyes to meet. she would nod her head, asking if she could take my hand without speaking. and of course i never denied. she held both of our hands in the air and jumped around to all-american bitch. i know she meant it in a "this is a girls moment" way but my head told me that she was holding my hand the way i had been wanting to for the past week.

none of this could leave my mouth of course. because one ; it was too loud for anyone to even hear my words and two ; it wouldn't be the best choice to confess my love to nika in the middle of a concert. so i shoved my thoughts and fluttery words right back down my throat and replaced them with song lyrics.

all of the thoughts in my head were bringing me to tears. the fact that i was actually in the same stadium as olivia rodrigo and the fact that i was in the same arm distance as nika muhl. and i couldn't even hold her how ive wanted.

then the scream happened. right before the scream in all-american bitch was about to happen, olivia stopped and told everyone to scream for themselves. and i knew exactly what to think about when i screamed.

i screamed about having to wait for nika even though it might not work out. i thought about the fact that our bodies were pressed together in the most platonic way possible. i screamed about the fact that i still had to sort shit out with asher when i got back to campus. and i screamed about the fact that nika had no idea.

in my head i was the loudest person there but i know i wasn't when all of the screams melted together into one.

then she played obsessed. my favorite. there were a good amount of Olivia Rodrigo songs that I did relate to and this was not one of them. I've never been obsessed with anyone's ex. I've never really...cared.

i remember when the song was first leaked on a podcast on Spotify it was the only thing I listened to for a while. I knew every lyric like the back of my hand even if I didn't associate them with my own life.

olivia had changed into a red body suit and she looked amazing. it shocked me how she sounded so perfect while dancing but that's just Olivia Rodrigo for you.

i noticed Nika getting even more loud during this song. she actually was singing the lyrics as if she had known them for months. I felt proud as fuck. are hands met again. we were jumping up and down to the beat of the drums, screaming together like we had been friends for years.

everything went by so quickly.

next thing I knew she had her hand around my waist while she tried to catch her breath. her head was closer to my hands then my face and she had a death grip on her own knee. her back lifted and fell as her heavy breaths slowly went away. i had my hand on her back, trying to make sure she was ok while the song continued.

when her head was back up at eye level the first thing she did was lean into my ear and whisper. "can I try something?"

i had never been more confused in my life until I nodded and felt her hand still lingering around my hips. her fingers grazed the skin that was open in the air. she had been pretending to be focused on the music while her hands slipped down my waist and under my skirt. my breath hitched when she used just her pinky to slide my underwear to the side.

"w-what are you doing?" I questioned, trying to pretend like I didn't want this to happen.

"oh shut up I know you've wanted me too."

i couldn't form words before she dipped two fingers in my pussy. I knew that I could be more vocal since the music was loud enough to drown everyone out but I still felt the need to stay quiet. from anyone elses view, you'd think we were just holding each other or holding hands while singing. Nika quickened her pace, already making me close. it felt like a dream. and it felt like three songs had already passed but by the time it was the bridge of obsessed, I was dripping all over Nika's fingers.

"f-fuck!" I whined out, making Nika cover my mouth with her lips. she didn't stop pumping her fingers in and out of my cunt but it felt like we were only kissing. like the only thing I could feel was her lips on mine and her tongue tangled with mine.

just as I was about to finish for the second time within 1 minute and 30 seconds, Nika pulled her fingers out of me and laid them on her own tongue, sucking them clean.

part of me was in disbelief of what just happened and the other part was fully aware.

"can we continue at home?"

i nodded eagerly, still not knowing what to say to her. I could tell by the smirk on her lips and how her hands were placed on her hips that she was real fucking proud of what she just did.

the rest of the concert was a blur to me.

#girlblogger #nika muhl #basketball #uconn wbb #uconhuskies #lesbian #nika muhl x reader #nika x reader #nika mühl #nika my wife fr #never be like you #Nika muhl smut #Nika smut

211 notes · View notes

xprakzif · 3 months

Text

ੈ✩‧₊˚⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

requested: yess

summary: after boringly hanging out with your bestfriend, you end up secretly ditching her for her brother, your boyfriend.

warnings: none!!

short oneshot

an« first request so apologies if it’s not great »

ੈ✩‧₊˚⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

chase was never used to the affection of having a girlfriend.

after finding out his shared feelings for you by your best friend, his sister, she playfully forced him to ask you out one day at their house.

usually you would come over to hang out with bree, since chase was always in his world of science, but you felt real clingy and decided to bother him. you got up from your place on the bed in one of davenports spare rooms, which you and bree would spend time together in.

“brb, going to the bathroom.” you fibbed not wanting to admit you were really going to check on your boyfriend. bree nodded, not removing her focus from her phone.

“hiiiii,” singing as you entered the metal doors of the lab.

he was sat on a stool, messing with some high-tech computer. not even turning to look at his girlfriend walk in.

“hi, y/n.” he said sternly still focused.

you pulled the stool next to him closer so you could be in his space. sitting down, you lean your head on his shoulder. “aren’t you hanging with bree today? i’m a little busy.”

“yea, but i missed you.” you wrap your arms around his shoulders squeezing him lovingly.

he blushed at your words thinking you wouldn’t notice but you did. you poked at his cheek and he finally turned to look at you. you smiled softly.

he looked to your lips and back to your eyes. you knew what he was aiming for. it had been occurred to you that he was definitely shy in the relationship. it was still pretty new, and he hadn’t had much experience. mostly hesitant when he touches you, or even flustered when you give him a quick smooch on the cheek. you never minded that though, often finding it adorable.

you remove an arm from around his shoulders and place a hand softly on his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss.

pulling back, you grin at his pink tinted skin.

“i thought you were busy?” you joked. still having your arms now around his neck. he smiled as he looked back to his device. “so can i hang here? pleaseeeee?” you plead as you embrace him closer.

“yes- i mean what about bree?” he discussed.

“i don’t even think she realizes i left..”

ੈ✩‧₊˚⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

hiiii, request are still open<3

alsooo i haven’t updated on my wattpad in a min but i’ll be posting a new chapter of the chase fic later today:)

#chase davenport x reader #fanfic #lab rats #reqs open #wattpad #short #oneshot #chase davenport #request #fluff

101 notes · View notes

eveningepiphany · 1 year

Text

welcome to the final show | H.S, part 2

the girlies asked so I deliver!

read part one here, or check out my masterlist!

summary: after the accidental cafe run in, harry and y/n have wound up with each others numbers. and are quick to go from casual texting to organising another time to meet up. including a cafe trip and an unexpected ice creamery visit.

warnings: fluff, swearing, minor mentions of alcohol, nothing too heavy, just our lovely italyrry who is the sweetest ever.

a/n: thank you all so so much for the incredible amount of support on the first part of this official series. and also for your patience in waiting for me to hurry up and post an update. i know it’s been like 2 weeks since the first part, but I really wanted to give you something i took my time working on <3

———

There’s a certain type of disbelief that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s the kind that you feel straight to your core. That randomly dumps on you during the day like a bucket of water, and leaves your head spinning like that very bucket came crashing down with it.

It happens in a single moment, but lingers for a long time after the fact.

That’s exactly how you felt after harry texted you first. Because not even a few hours later after you’d exchanged numbers, he sent you through, not only a message, but a photo of all things.

One that made your heart swell with its endearing qualities.

A photo of a plate, filled with the food you’d told him earlier that day was one of your favourites.

Sent with a further little message below it,

Your favourite is currently up for grabs at the family gathering. H

The way he’d signed his intial off at the bottom had you nearly throw your phone across the room at how adorable it was.

Like as if you didn’t even know who you were texting.

Again it strewn your thought— is he aware the kind of mental effect this is having on you? Because you’re borderline going to need to phone for an ambulance.

You’re a simple person. A fangirl, to say the least. This shit, despite being able to say ‘I’ve met and talked with Harry Styles for more than 10 minutes’ does not just disappear.

And you had promised yourself not to tell anyone that this had happened— or was happening? Because there would be nothing worse than this somehow ending up online.

And not to treat him like a flighty deer instead of a grown man, but you would hate for that to place a kind of distrust in his hands.

However, all of that self-agreement doesn’t take away the nagging voice in your head that just wants to tell at the very least your immediate friends and family.

But you’re proud to say— after a long 2 minutes of pacing around your hotel room— you manage to craft a reply back.

Well, only after a few rough and undeniably embarrassing drafts that quickly get deleted out of the text bar.

You’re back to sitting on the floor against the bed frame, facing the window looking out on the gorgeous colours of the evening Italian sky.

Heart pounding, and you’re sure this scene from a third person perspective would look like it was pulled from a hallmark movie.

Girl fawning over man’s simple text. Kicking her feet in the glow of Italian sun, with a glass of wine on the floor next to her.

You stared at your finalised message and decided if you didn’t send it now, you would spiral into a never ending pit of doubt. And just end up overthinking the whole thing.

So you just did it. And now on the screen, under his blue message, was your own grey one.

there’s no way. it looks so good! im gonna see if it’s on my room service menu tbh. consider me inspired.

You bit your knuckles. Acting up like a fucking teenager. Waiting for the shock to subside before you actually get up to find the hotel menu.

After you replied back, you were sweating, honestly. Anxious at the fact you had just sent a text to Harry Styles. And unlike a conversation, that shit is permanent. So too bad if it comes off embarrassing.

Which of course, it didn’t on his end. Unbeknownst to you, he almost physically gleamed at sight of your name on his screen for the first time.

You’d nearly dropped your glass of wine when your phone vibrated up on the counter of the hotels kitchen where it was charging.

It’d been about half an hour from when you replied, you’d since ordered room service and sat in your bed to watch tv.

You made sure to place your glass elsewhere as you ran over to grab your phone.

If it wasn’t already all gone I’d save you some. Any luck with the room service?

You’d replied back swiftly, disregarding any kind of waiting to text back rule. You were all too eager to wait.

i managed to score some up from the room service. didn’t look as appetising as yours, but it was still enjoyed. x

And at this, he smiled, looking at the Italian sunset as he thought of you with a curiosity he recognised as all too unhealthy.

———

If you had told yourself two days ago in that cafe, that you have had several full conversations with harry after getting his number… you probably would have laughed.

Yet its not a joke of any kind. You can pinch yourself over and over again looking at those texts, but all you’ll end up with is a bruise and they will be just as real.

But as you read over the most recently received one, pinching would have not been enough of a reality check.

Maybe a frying pan? Probably would do the trick.

You scanned over his words, rubbing your eyes like you were tired and seeing shit— even though you’d been awake since 9am, which was 2 hours ago.

Unless you have plans, I’m going to try this cafe a friend recommended me a while back, if you wanted to tag along?

[ 1 attachment link]

And there’s simply no way that this is happening? But after 30 seconds without a follow up text telling you he’s accidentally sent this to the wrong person, you sit up straight.

Well, you’re not about to ask him if he’s serious right now, so you channel every fibre of casualness left within you and use it to construct a response.

id love to! I’ll get ready to go soon if you want to meet there before 12:30?

That works perfectly. did you need a lift, or are you in walking distance. I can pick you up if you need.

You almost keel over at his offer, and the absolute gentleman move he just made.

You also realise you didn’t even look where the cafe was. Because if Harry Styles asks you to go somewhere with him the answer should always be yes. Figure out the means of getting there and back later.

Either way you open the link and get taken to google maps, and the cafe in question is literally a 10 minute walk away from you.

im in walking distance, it’s about 10 minutes away. so I’ll just make my way there at about 12:15! thank you for the lovely offer though.

And you move as quickly as possible from your bed to your suitcase, ready to tear that thing apart for an outfit.

You don’t want to be over the top, but you have to go with something on the shorter side because it’s already in the high 20’s and it’s not even afternoon yet. So you lug out the many summer dresses you crammed in there, hoping that one of them will strike your interest.

Some get tossed back into your bag as you filter through them, not making the cut for a variety of reasons— like showing too much of your cleavage.

Yea, a good few of them get ruled out for that reason.

But eventually— and thank god, because you were starting to loose hope— you find one that is perfect for the occasion. It’s all types of flowy and comfortable, but still maintains the pretty connotation that summer dresses are known for.

Before putting it on, you go into the bathroom and do your morning routine— fixing your hair as a final step, but deciding to leave it out since there is hardly any wind outside to make it a mess. Plus it will suit the dress.

You somehow managed to take long enough that the next time you look at your phone you realise it’s nearing 12:15pm a lot faster than you expected. So you hustle to get the rest of your shit together, and make your way out the door.

The walk there is as peaceful as you could imagine, just the sounds of chatter from passer-by’s and birds lingering in trees dotting the sidewalk.

But on the inside you are still panicking. The last time you’d meet him in a cafe was a total surprise. This time it’s planned, and that leaves too much room for your brain to overthink it.

As you finally push through the doors of the cafe you had found your way to, a tiny bell above jingles. But you’re hardly focused on it as you look to the front counter.

Seeing the exact person you were here for already grabbing two drinks from a barista at what you can only assume is a pickup counter.

As he spins around, he catches your momentary surprise, complimented by flushed cheeks. To this he smiles and nods you over with his head.

He looked excited to see you. Like a longtime pair of friends meeting up again after a while apart.

Your feet kick back into gear at his nod, following him over to a table that’s tucked into the corner. He had his pleasing bag slung across the top of the chair.

“Hi lovely,” he says the minute you’re close enough to hear his deep voice.

“Hi Harry.” You smile, heart still beating too fast. The words feeling different as they get spoken from your mouth.

He walks the few steps around the table, closing the gap still between you— and he doesn’t wait for you to hug him, he just pulls you straight into the warmth of his arms.

Wrapping you up in a way that you can smell the cologne lingering on the dip of his neck into his shoulder.

His accent is muffled by your hair as he talks gently, “how’ve you been?”

The common question has your head reeling. In its simplicity is still sweetness.

You pull back, his eyes training on yours, looking keenly at you, awaiting an answer from your almost shy lips.

“I— yes, I’ve been really good thank you.” You nod, how could you not be? Look where your standing, who you’re standing with.

“What about you…?” You ask, watching as the corners of his pink mouth upturn.

He’s freshly shaven, you notice, and your fingers twitch with the need to glide over the smooth skin of his cheek.

You resist as he answers, still relatively closer than you should be out in a public place.

“I’m doing well, even better now.” He raises his eyebrows, a cheeky grin coming on his face.

He revels in blood that rushes into your cheeks, reddening them up like you’ve just run a mile.

“Oh, stop it. You’re a bloody flirt.” You roll your eyes in an attempt to play it off, and you also take a step back to seat yourself in the chair at the table he’d picked.

Maybe he was a flirt at most times. But from his perspective, with you in a dress like that? Not to sound like he’s drawing on the one direction lyrics, but as if you don’t know you’re beautiful.

I mean, sure, he thinks you’re aware that you’re pretty. But in the way it’s working him up, you seem to be clueless.

Because he’s almost stumbling on his words at the sight of you, soft fabric flowing seamlessly over your tan skin, cutting off above your knees leaving him with thoughts that he should not be having in a public space.

But at the same time, he tries to convince himself it’s nothing but a wholesome coincidental friendship. Even though if at any point tabloids get a hold of this, it will be very very far from that.

You’re watching as he looks a little caught up in thought, and you chuckle at it.

The sweet noise breaks him out of it, and he’s grateful for that. It was a rabbit hole he was happy to just not go down right now.

“Can’t help it,” he shrugs, going over to his own seat.

“Now, i need the full story of what happened with your friends luggage at the Singapore airport?”

You let out a laugh, a little surprised he even remembers to bring it up. You had been texting about travel, and told him the time your friend had her luggage lost in a layover between Singapore and London last month.

“I mean, where did it leave it off?” You had explained a partial amount of the story. But told him, if you’d planned another cafe trip it would be a lot easier to explain the ins and outs.

And he was overly excited to watch you tell the tale. Watch the way your hands moved as you animatedly told the story, and the way your eyes get a little lost in thought.

He caught tiny glimpses of it the first time you’d met, but he craved to watch it happen in full. Among other things.

You told him how you’d had 12 hour layover, but that you guys didn’t want to book a hotel since they were so expensive. But you were still meant to collect your luggage— and everyone else but your friend Bonnie got it back.

“She’s Scottish, crazy red hair and she is like a fire cracker. She was actually at the last show, in the front with us, but anyway— so she’s running around Singapore airport accosting all the staff with her stressed out and angry Scottish accent.”

You went back and forth with the many fuck arounds of that day, how you went from halfway across the airport to a misplaced baggage unit per a staffs advice, only for the lady at the front desk to say it wasn’t there— and to go back to the support centre.

“It was not funny at the time,” you said, “but fuck, looking back now it’s pretty good. And it makes a fun story to tell.”

“So where did she actually get her stuff back?” He asks, frowning with a curious smile.

“Oh, like 6 hours after we originally got off the plan. They’d told us to wait up at that little customer support place and after like another hour and a half, some really frazzled guy came running up with it.”

And you laughed at the image in your head, sweaty and looked terrified he’d gotten the wrong bag, “We asked where it had gotten lost, but he just asked if it was certainly ours, then when we said yes he nodded and practically ran the other way.”

Harry was smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

“God, is that quite a story.”

“See why I said texting it would have been way too hard.” You amend, reaching for the deserted cup of tea you hadn’t even drank out of yet, taking a sip.

Exactly how you like it, and you smile. Watching him watch you drink it.

“Just how you like it, yea?” He asks to confirm. But also lost a little in the way the liquid seamlessly travels from the cup down your throat.

“Yea, perfect.” You nod, clutching the warm cup between your hands, tongue swiping out over your lips.

“Anyways, what about your own crazy travel stories. Since you’ve done plenty of it.” You prompt, unaware of his remaining gaze.

The afternoon went of just like that. Telling stories and sharing funny little anecdotes that had you laughing so hard that tears were about to spill from your waterline.

You slowly forget that it’s Harry Styles you’re sitting with. And of course that sounds weird. But it’s like there came a certain point in the afternoon where he just became simply Harry.

Nothing more, nothing less.

It had been a rather long time you sat in that same cafe with him. So much that the chairs, originally very comfortable, had started to become the opposite as time flew on.

“Are these chairs starting to hurt your ass too?” He asks, humour lacing his tone as he watches you adjust yourself in the chair for the third time in the last 10 minutes.

“Yea, the metal seats are lowkey not it.” At this he laughs, the way you word things somehow being more entertaining than most.

“Well, cmon, I already paid, we can go for a walk if you want?” He rises from his place, and you’ve never stood up quicker.

“Braving the Italian sun at its very brightest are we?” You joke, smiling as he grabs his bag and slings it over one of his broad shoulders.

“Could be a big regret, could also be very scenic.” He says as you grab both your empty cups.

“I forgot to put sunscreen on as well, so might have a different colour forehead to the rest of my body but… oh well.” he shurgs, following you over to the small bin by the cafe door.

You’re immediately thinking of the time he went to a show after going out golfing and he had a sunburnt head.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” And it takes you by surprise that the teasing words made it out of your mouth.

Yet, he seems happily indifferent to it, like it’s of course something you’d know, “Whatever you.”

Your laughing at his response as you hold the door open for him, exiting the cafe into the heat.

A tortured sigh is let out of you both at the swelter of it. The concrete pavement doing nothing but intensify it.

“I underestimate the weather every day here, I’m wearing too many layers of clothing to be dealing with this.”

“Take your hoodie off you dolt.”

He usually keeps layers on so that his tattoos are less visible. Since they’re often a dead giveaway of who he is. So his hands hesitates as they slip to the hem of his jumper.

“Don’t tell me you went out with just a jumper on, no other layers. In Italy?” You shake your head, still smiling as you slowly walk into the shaded part of the sidewalk.

“No— I did.” He laughs, “just m’tattoos usually garner some attention.”

He clarifies, “that sounded really egotistical, not the tattoos themselves, I meant people recognise me easier when they’re out.”

“Oh!” You stumble a little in your thought process. Feeling a little silly for not realising.

“I kind of like… forgot?” You say, coming to a stop as he eventually succumbs to the heat and peels the jumper over his head. Folding it up and popping it into his bag, glancing at you with a tiny breathe of relief at his new found ventilation. Hands moving to tousle with his hair in attempt to flatten it after pulling the jumper over it.

“I mean, i did. too honestly.” He agrees, continuing to walk forward.

You read into that a million different ways. But he makes sure you don’t get confused, “Y/N, don’t look so worried. I just mean you’re a very easy person to get… i dunno, lost in.”

Oh okay? How does one just casually continue putting one foot in front of the other after someone says something like that?

“You flatter me too much.” You roll your eyes, still as awful as ever at masking your shock or adoration for something someone’s said.

“Cmon, you’re just too humble i think.” He bumps you with his shoulder.

You’re laughing at him. But stop dead in your tracks as you stop something across the road.

“H.” You say, and he also comes to a halt. Taking a moment to process your use of his nickname. Like the way it so gently came from you.

Yet you sound almost dire, so he’s looking over where you are, scanning the sunny street for something that could possibly concern you?

For a moment he thinks it may be paparazzi, but this side of town is usually much better in regards to that.

He feels protective of you, “What? Are you okay?”

“There’s ice cream over there.” You say, hand coming up to cover your mouth a little.

A breath of relief fills his lungs, “i— you made it out like this was a life or death situation about t’unfold.”

Your expression turns to a grin, “no, i just love Italian ice creameries!”

“Can we please go and get some?” You glance back to him, and his own smile widens at your face. Gleaming with this unfiltered excitement over something so simplistic.

“Of course we can.” And you’re immediately grabbing his wrist to tug him across the road towards the shop.

“As if I could say no to you, anyway.” He laughs as he keeps up with your quick pace, clearly on a mission.

Once inside the store, with its pink and mint coloured walls and decor, you move to look at the collection of flavours.

The staples such as vanilla and strawberry, but then a small selection of more slightly diverse ones, like peanut butter brownie or salted caramel.

Their cookie dough ice cream looks amazing though, filled with chocolatey chunks of cookie. So you decide relatively fast that’s what you want.

And then you turn to Harry, whose eyes are still darting between flavours indecisively.

“What one do you want?” You ask, and he adverts his eyes to you.

“No I’ll order.” He shakes his head.

“No-no. Let me get this for you, please.” He goes to protest and you nudge him with your elbow, “don’t be stubborn. I want to get you something.”

“I— fine. But know you’re just as pushy as i am.” He scoffs with a laugh.

“I’ll get… maybe chocolate?” He points to it, and you nod.

The older lady at the counter is overly lovely, and you’re rattling off your order to her with a beaming smile.

Harry watches your interaction with her, and how you take a moment to compliment the heart covered apron she was wearing.

His heart trips over it’s own rhythm at the sight.

You pays and he still feels a little guilty, but figures he can make it up to you next time they go out by getting you a cookie or two with your tea.

You come back to his side with the two cones, stacked two scoops tall, and hand one to him.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to though.”

“It’s fine, Harry. Do you wanna find somewhere outside to sit?” You ask, turning to wave at the lady who served you as your slowly exiting the shop.

“Sure, i saw that little bench under a tree a couple shops down near that park.” He nods, taking his turn to lead the way there.

You shortly find the way there, sitting yourselves down on it, looking out onto a small playground with some kids swinging on monkey bars and sliding down the slide.

“Italian ice cream will forever be the best kind of ice cream.” You sigh out with pleasure, licking over the cool scoop.

He unwittingly is blushing at the sight, suddenly batting away mental images at the sight of your pink tongue jutting out of your mouth.

Shaking his head, he pushes them aside. “Definitely. You can tell it’s handmade.”

He busies his own tongue on his own ice cream, only stealing occasional glances to you at his side.

But he can’t help but tilt his cone to you, “Wanna try the chocolate?”

His offer comes as the equivalent of a brick to the head, but you’re invested in making yourself not seem psychotic.

So you nod nonchalantly, “i will, but I have a feeling that’s just because you want some of mine.”

“Mm, maybe I do a little.” He agrees, but any other coherent thought dies where it was in his head at you leaning over to his own cone. Your tongue running over the ice cream, collecting up its sweet residue.

You nod, “That’s so good.” Acting like you’ve got a normal internal monologue right now. Even though she’s hurling things at you that you can’t all process in such a short flash of time.

You just put your mouth where his has been! He is about to do the same thing! His eyes look a little blown out! What the fuck!

Pretty much what it sounds like up there, along with some alarm bells and screaming.

However you just gesture your cone to him, taking mental images of him mirroring what you did just before.

He hums a sound of enjoyment as he pulls back, glancing up at you, pinning you with his green gaze. “Good choice.”

You agree with a slight mumble, shaking your head momentarily to clear your thoughts. Ready to change the subject so you can internally recollect yourself.

“I only regret sitting out here since it’s melting so fucking fast.”

“I know,” he also settles quickly back into the normality of the moment, “i cant eat it quicker than the rate it’s melting.”

“It’s cold though, which is at least a win.”

Conversation trails on as normal while you finish off the ice cream. Discussing if biting the bottom off an ice cream cone is normal or not.

And before you know it you check your phone when you get a text from your mum, asking what time you’re able to call tonight.

She misses you heaps, you can tell. But despite the timezone difference you are making it work.

You also glance up at the time and realise it’s nearing 4pm. And you have just spent majority of the afternoon with Harry.

You also realise you’d agreed to have dinner with all of your friends in one of their hotel rooms tonight.

“Seems like it’s my turn to have to be the one to bail.” You say, popping your phone in your back pocket and looking back at Harry.

“That’s okay, love, what’s the plans for the evening.”

You explain that you’ll go over the the girls hotel room and probably just eat pizza, and then go back to your own room and call your mum for a bit.

He feels a little sad you even have to leave, which is odd, but he nods anyway, “That sounds fun. Solid plan.”

You reluctantly rise from your seat next to him. “So…” you take a tiny breath in, “am I the one picking the next cafe we go to?”

He beams internally at the fact you’re also trying to plan the next time you’re able to meet up with each other.

“I reckon so, Angel.” He stands as well, “I’m good for any day.”

Any plans he has can be rearranged for you.

“Alright!” You feel better immediately knowing you can see him again soon.

“Thanks for the ice cream too, by the way.” He says, walking back over to the pathway with you.

“It’s okay.” You smile, nervously being the one to give him a goodbye hug. A small flutter erupts in your stomach as his hands pull you flush to him around your lower back.

“I’ll see you soon, mkay?”

“Yea. Ill talk to you later.” You remind yourself that he’s easily accessible to talk to. You literally have his number.

“Bye H.” You give him a squeeze, pulling away with a smile, “Bye Y/N.” And you wave as you start the walk back to your hotel. Plenty of things to think about.

———

“Did you guys see the supposed pics of harry today on harryflorals? He was hanging out with someone apparently!” Nina asks everyone.

Only two of you hadn’t, including yourself.

She passes the phone first to you, and you frown.

“I know, looks like it’s taken on a potato.” She says, assuming your furrowed brows are due to the fact the image is really hard to get anything from.

Unless you know that park bench he’s ‘allegedly’ sitting on. And that the blurry figure next to him is almost certainly you— but no one else can tell.

“Yea… shit that is…” You pause, brain freezing a little, “bad quality.”

You hand her phone back. But caption of the post still festering in your head long after the moment is over.

HARRY *SUPPOSEDLY* WITH A GIRL IN ITALY TODAY! but this is the only pic we got 💔

———

ahh and that’s part two! I hope you guys are enjoying this, and I’m so excited to write more about these two. cant wait for you to see what’s in store for them.

thank you again for your patience while waiting for this second part, and to all the lovely people who requested this oneshot to be made into something more.

taglist:

@harrystylesgirlie @purple9950 @teamspideyman @rociolunaa21 @spiritofbuddha @lemonhrry @deamus-liv @lquvlly @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @hsfanficsrecss

+ all the anons who sent stuff to my submission box, thank you to you guys too, all my love

831 notes · View notes

valleyfae · 1 year

Text

𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐧

𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 ➛ Guys My Age AU: Masterlist

Paring: divorced!neighbor!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: soft father figure Bucky, age gap (reader’s in uni and Bucky’s in his 40s), hurt/comfort, heavy topics (indications of an abusive parent), smut 18+ ONLY MDNI, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (male receiving), lots of praise, dirty talk, and teasing. Bold italicized text is from the reader’s journal or past!!

Synopsis: You can't seem to keep your plans straight or your hands off of each other.

Word Count: 3.5k words

Authors Note: I have finally decided to update this fic, and I am so sorry it took so long. This part was supposed to be double the length, but I split it in half to post something now until I am happy with the second part. Enjoy!!

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌.𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✴︎ 𝐒. 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍 𝐌.𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✴︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

You’ve been awake for hours.

The bright rays of sunlight sneak through the narrow opening of the cream curtains that lightly sway in the summer breeze. The ashamed feeling of disgust still sunken deep into your heavy chest. Brain fuzzy, limbs weak, stomach cramping, nausea taking over your body as you groan.

You tiredly stretch; the feeling of your cotton sheets is the only comfort you’ve gotten since Bucky held you in his safe arms. The sunken bags under your eyes become more apparent every day you go without him.

Falling back into your drowsy state, chilling goosebumps creep down your spine. Yet, no matter the temperature, all you can feel is the isolation and the guilt you somehow manage to carry, blaming yourself for the actions others make.

A sudden buzz from your phone instantly snaps you out of your hopeless mood. Too lethargic to check your messages, you ignore the notifications. A second buzz vibrates against your wooden bedside table. Tiredly you lift your hand out from under the covers. You squint your eyes as the bright screen inflicts your tired vision.

Dad - 9:27 am

About to leave for my business trip

Dad - 9:29 am

Your keys are in the kitchen

His texts give a clear indication of what will be happening.

What always happens.

You can’t deny the sick feeling that stirs your stomach from normalizing his apathetic customs. Dropping your phone onto your burdensome chest, you have zero reaction to the thump of the heavy glass screen on your exposed skin.

You huff out, grief crawling under your skin. As you pull your covers over your face, you hear yet another buzz, your phone buzzing on your skin. "Shut up," you irately mumble into your soft duvet.

Carelessly, you sit up, sick of seeing your father's name. You quickly glance at the message, not bothering to see what it says, immediately throwing your phone back onto the sheets.

Freezing your movements, you furrow your brows in confusion.

You sit fully up for the first time this morning. Leaning against your headboard, you sink your teeth into your bottom lip to collect yourself from the lingering worries built up through your restless night. Nervous excitement washes the sullen expressions off your face.

Your heart beats at a pathetically fast rate from simply seeing a notification.

Butterflies swarm your stomach, filling your throat with apprehensive nausea. Oh my god, just look at the fucking message. You take a deep breath, inhaling the sweet fragrance of the candle that lingers around your room; building up the courage, you open Bucky’s text.

Bucky - 9:31 am

Good morning, sweetheart! I hope you got a good night's sleep and got some rest. If you want to come over, I’ll be at my house. I just need to finish a little work but come whenever you want. There is a key behind the plant pot :)

Overwhelmed, you feel a sense of consolation as you read Bucky’s text repeatedly. You drag your hands down your face, shaking off your last bit of exhaustion.

It’s a little pathetically how a straightforward text Bucky probably wrote without thinking could bring you this much joy.

Stretching your sore muscles, you take your time to get out of bed – following the bright shine through the curtains, you pull them open to the sound of your father’s car dragging against the gravel. You turn your back to the window, take a deep breath, and push away your negative thoughts.

You spend the next thirty minutes getting ready, taking your time to feel the hot water run down your back. You gently rub the sweet vanilla scent across your skin, wincing as your fingers skim over your bruises and sore muscles.

Overcome by the debilitating urge to rush next door, you hastily gather your journal and headphones, knowing Bucky will be busy for a bit – you don’t care how long it takes him.

You slip into a pair of shorts, the distressed denim skimming your legs, and the cotton of your old band-tee loosely hangs from your shoulders.

The warm breeze hits your skin as your shadow follows your restless steps until you reach the familiar sight of Bucky’s front door.

You follow his expected thoughtful notes, involuntarily smiling as you pick up the cold key from the shade behind the potted plant, dragging the tip of your finger against the sharp ridges of the metal and taking a breath before gathering your overly excited body.

Carefully opening the heavy door, you step inside. The perfect type of silence and captivating scent flood your senses. Just being in Bucky’s house felt safe. The calm, sleek modern features hold a refreshing atmosphere that radiates the most precious feeling.

As you step out of your untied Converse, the silence breaks. A faint purr draws you to the couch, and your giddiness heightens.

“Hello, pretty,” you coo, sitting beside the snow-white feline. “Don’t you look comfy?” Then, with one hand tenderly stroking Alpine, you pull your pen and journal out of your canvas bag.

Curled beside you, Alpine’s eyes flutter shut. “You have the most beautiful eyes, just like your dad.” She purrs in response closing the slight gap. “The most beautiful blue eyes.”

Your soft smile melts into a somber gulp as you take out your journal–leafing through your messy notebook and skimming over your prior writing. Lump forming in your throat, you hinder your light flipping of the pages and blankly stare at your words from the previous nights.

The rivets of dried tear stains scatter your notes like the cuts and bruises fading from your skin.

The painful pages of burden. Every word, hit, insult, ingrained in your memory, the agonizing pluses, the claustrophobic beating of your heart, the fearful tremors, the salty tears slipping through the passage of your lips, manipulated to insanity, exhausted and delirious.

Bottled-up emotions flooded onto the pages of your journal – forever stuck in the cycle of shock, fear, denial, anger, and hopelessness. The stiffly chained pattern has never broken before.

You never expected to feel any sort of safety.

Shame is always significant, always present, lingering in your mind, but the way Bucky cradles you in his strong arms brings you the comfort and acceptance you never expected, ever. The mounds of self-doubt that control your life slowly dissipate with every second you spend with him. The feeling he gives you is so foreign, and there are not enough words to describe it. The way he holds you in his arms. He’s nurturing. He feels like home.

The desperate longing for someone – that someone, perfect with all of their flaws and broken pieces. That person who will mend your fragile, fragmented mind, body, and soul. You never thought you would find the person, but with Bucky, it is finally starting to feel real.

You’ve never felt joy reading through your journal, repressed memories surfacing, haunting your every moment. Well, not until the night you spent the night at Buckys.

He is perfect – every part of him.

“Sweetheart?” Bucky calls, a deep and gentle voice echoing down the stairs. His eyes land on the precious sight below him, and he gushes.

Longing gaze snapped back into reality, turning around and stuffing your journal in your bag. “Bucky?”

Nimble fingers rubbing through his beard, scratching the nape of his neck, he teases, taking his last steps to the couch. “Bunny?” kneeling, he tenderly pulls you into a hug, stroking Alpine when she lets out a jealous meow.

Walking down the hall, Bucky guides you into his bedroom. Thoughts mirroring yours, he stops you, gripping your chin between his fingers. Limbs intertwining and heavy breaths mingling, his soft lips skimming yours.

“Miss hearing that flustered hitch in your breath,” he whispers against your lips. “Perfect little girl’s all mine.”

You huff, nuzzling your heated cheeks into his buff chest. “Miss everything about you,” your words muffle against the black cloth constricting Bucky’s muscular figure.

Silence has never been more beautiful, cradled in his arms. Tension building with no fear, just desire.

“Got you something,” Bucky smirks.

Letting out a faint whine, you look up at Bucky, urgently wrapping your arms around his neck. Dwindling patience at an all-time low, heart rate climbing, Bucky welcomes your lips. His tongue glides pasts yours, syncing with the motion of your body as you cling to him.

“I got you a swimsuit,” Bucky whispers into the kiss. “Can go swimming this time, not just— God,” he curses under his breath when you playfully suck along his jaw.

“Not just… fuck me?” you pull away, surprising yourself with the way your words blatantly slip out of your mouth.

Bucky laughs, mockingly pulling away and laying a kiss on your forehead. “Someone’s got a dirty mouth today,” he chuckles, cupping your cheek.

With another sheepish grin, you follow Bucky down the hall, patiently swaying in your seat; you wait for him to bring you the swimsuit he found while in his suit.

Confidence in his step, Bucky tenderly smiles, holding out a cherry red one-piece.

Throat abruptly going dry, the customary throb radiates heat through your jean shorts. Hesitation stirs in your stomach–nervous nausea blocking your airway, cutting your breath short.

I’ve never felt uncomfortable around him. He’s never commented on my body, never drawn attention to my bruises and scars, and never made me feel weird for the horrendous way my eyes get puffy and face blotches when I cry. No one has ever made me feel the same as he does or made me feel good about myself. So does he care or only pity me because I’m just that pathetic? I don’t want him to worry about me. I don’t want him to think I just want attention. I don’t want to feel even more ashamed of myself. I just want to keep pretending that life is perfect, like how it is when I’m with him.

“I’m not the best shopper, aren't I?” Bucky sarcastically snickers, lightening the worried expression on your face.

“No, no, it’s just a little red?” you giggle, pushing your stresses aside. “I love it!”

Smiling up at Bucky, he takes your place, sitting on the linen couch. The soft chuckles of banter gone silent, you timidly undressing to rapidly put the swimsuit on. Tense arms hidden behind your back, you fidget with your fingers, eyes following the pattern of the wooden tiles.

Tongue swiping across his velvety yet slightly chapped lips, his large hand grips your discarded clothes. “Bunny?” his tone sweet and delicate, melodically humming with the blowing wind that ruffles the curtains.

Hands molding to your shoulders, he coos, “Take a deep breath for me.” Chaos constantly cluttering your mind, you follow Bucky’s instructions, giving him your vulnerability. “You don’t need to be scared of me. I’m here for you, no matter what.”

All you can do is nod, leaning into his warm embrace.

*ೃ༄

The summer sun beats down on the two of you as you agilely trace patterns down Bucky’s abdomen, centimeters away from gliding over his shorts. You shift lower in the sun lounger, intertwining your thigh around his leg.

The nervous lump thumping in your chest falls, adding to the pulse radiating off your clit and breaking the stop to your restlessness, gradually bucking your clenched hips as your nose brushes the thick trail of hair that travels beneath the waistband of his shorts.

“Feeling needy, bunny?” Bucky smugly chuckles, placing his book down and his colossal palm on your head instead. “No need to act shy; been teasing me, wiggling in those little red bottoms.”

You tuck your head, and your flustered instinct kicks in, nose pressing against Bucky’s bulge; you whimper, realizing your position and rising embarrassment.

“Did so good for me last time. I’m still here to help but fuck.” Bucky tenderly rests his palm on your cheek. “Gonna get me hard just thinking about those soft lips wrapped around my cock, looked so pretty, so innocent sucking on my balls. Most perfect sight I’ve ever seen.”

The temperature of your face increases, but that doesn’t stop your body and your racing thoughts. Vivid images flood your memory of the first time you gave Bucky head, the first time you have ever given a man head.

The one time has left you with a ravenous craving for Bucky, a desperate yearning to please him, the vague taste of him ingrained in your imagination every second that goes by, and it’s intoxicating.

“Can I?”

Looking up, you admire Bucky's defined abs, perfectly sculpted biceps, the bright sunlight glimmering in his crystal blue eyes. A comforting aura emits from his words, breath, and presence; that feeling of safety mixed with passion curates his effect on you, the lust that flows through your veins, leaving you writhing for friction.

You sit up, putting your weight on your heels – pressing against the emerging wet patch on your red bikini. “You know, um….” you mumble, eyes subconsciously drawing to Bucky’s bulge.

He shifts up, spreading his thighs, establishing a space for you to lay. “We have an eager little girl today, now do we?” Bucky chuckles, cupping your cheek and pressing a kiss to your forehead, savoring the feeling of his soft, blush lips on your skin before he pulls away, his gaze piercing through your eyes with a gentle smile. “You’re gonna make me crazy,” he murmurs.

Licking your lips, you tug the supple flesh with your teeth; anticipating his following instructions, you center yourself and lay your clammy palms on your legs, exhibiting your restlessness with a subtle pout.

Intertwining his fingers with yours, he guides your hands to his growing bulge. “Don’t worry, bunny. I'm here.” The trembling of your wrists dies down as Bucky reassuringly moves your shaky touch to a steady pace. “I got you.”

Slipping your fingers past the band of Bucky’s swim trunks, you pull them down his hips, gaze apprehensively shifting from Bucky’s alluring eyes to the expanding path of hair you’re gradually exposing.

“Lemme just,” Bucky grumbles, freeing his strained erection and aching full balls from the polyester. A content sigh washes over him as you finish taking off his bottoms.

Sinful and tainted, you cave in, your mouth watering excessively as you attentively watch Bucky wrap his fingers around his thick base. “Go on and lay down for me.”

You hastily shift into the spot between Bucky’s muscular thighs, timidly placing a hand on his olive skin. “There you go, pretty girl’s so smart,” Bucky croons, his palm smoothing over your temple.

Your fingers barely conceal Bucky’s staggering girth mimicking his form seconds before; you glide your tongue up his shaft coating him with an abundant amount of your drool, all while maintaining hankering eye contact. His distinct, musky taste seeping into your taste buds, the feeling of his jutting veins intoxicating, you let out a content hum. Following your steady path, you kiss Bucky’s bulbous tip; a faint moan vibrates off your puckered lips, drawing a deep grunt from his chest.

“You see how hard you make me? Fucking hell, don’t need my help at all. So good for me—” Bucky groans, guiding your head down, pushing himself past your glistening lips. “That’s my girl.”

You immediately gag, glassy eyes building tears, your body’s natural response seeming hostile, but it’s your favorite feeling.

Both hands tentatively wrapped around him, the tip of Bucky’s cock prods the back of your throat—drool seeping past your lips, cascading over your tense knuckles.

Bucky's words meld into satisfied grunts, his chest heaving to the rhythm he enforces with his hand pressing down on the crown of your head. “Always take me like a champ,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “Don’t you, bunny?”

His pulsing tip pummels down your throat, pushing your head down further, and a perfectly sculpted outline of his cock shapes down your neck abundantly. Copious amounts of saliva coat your chin, running down your chest and creating a glistening pool to glaze over the cushion below you.

Encouraging groans flow from Bucky’s lips as he digs his pearly white teeth into his plush red lips. His eyes locked on yours, the plentiful strands of silver that weave through his hair, glimmering in the sunlight.

The thump in your chest drops between your legs. You urgently clamp your thighs together, helplessly clenching your muscles in an attempt to fulfill the ache exuding heat from your neglected clit. You sync your needy movements with the tempo Bucky set with his hand planted on the back of your head. The repetition of your self-inflicted grinds rapidly builds a coil in your stomach.

Bucky frees you from under his grasp, stifles the tempo of his thrusts, and pumps his cock. “There she is,” he groans. “Shit. Making me feel so good.”

Increasing the speed of the rough buckling of your hips, Bucky continues to praise you as your drool-painted lips connect to his full heavy balls. His stare drops from your watery eyes to your hips, needily grinding onto nothing. “You don’t need my help, doing amazing. Love it so much you’re humping the air, aren’t you, poor thing?”

The sound of your gags is replaced by your pleading whimpers, which have become more and more substantial as you borrow your nose further against Bucky’s base, his balls drawing up as you slurp your excessive drool.

“Come here,” Bucky motions, soothingly rubbing your free hand on his thigh. “Help me cum – need to feel that pretty cunt wrapped around my fingers. Need to show my girl how proud of her I am.”

Responding with a confused hum, Bucky cups your cheek, gently guiding you up, patting the cushion; he stabilizes your trembling legs, straddling your thighs so you’re hovering over his cock, harder than ever.

He patiently hooks his dexterous fingers around the vibrant fabric, revealing your puffy clit.

He catches your keen gaze, eyes following down to your eager pout and back to your cunt, skimming your mound with his digits. Struggling to form a sentence, you reflexively roll your hips, internally screaming, begging for Bucky to speed up his sly gestures.

His soft chuckles fuel your neediness, but before he can get his words out, you huff, “be patient. I know, I know.” Digging your fingers into his biceps, you giggle, mirroring his smile.

Swimsuit fully pushed to the side, Bucky slides his tip between your folds, teasing your entrance. “Using my words against me,” he rebuts, moving his hands and securely gripping your waist. “You know I’m right. I always make you feel good.”

Playfully rolling your eyes, you whimper under your breath, “Bucky.”

Feeding your restless state, he slowly slips you down onto his length, stretching past your entrance.

As much pleasure as Bucky has brought you in every other position, this foreign fluffiness and a false sense of control is startling yet exciting. Bucky’s steady thrusts, combined with your frantic bounces as you rock your hips, almost instantly bring you to your climax.

“B-Buck–” you mewl, embarrassment and pleasure clouding your senses. “Please, I’m- I’m….” Squinting your eyes shut, you arch your back, tensing your muscles.

Maintaining his authoritative grasp on you, Bucky attaches the pad of his thumb to your clit, pulling a squeal from the back of your throat. “So quick,” he scoffs, breathlessly moaning himself. “Look at me, bunny.”

You collapse onto Bucky’s chest, tired and helplessly chasing the rapid thump in your abdomen. “Feels s-so, feels so good.” Brows furrowed, you open your heavy lids, holding back your release until Bucky reassures your pleas. “Can’t hold it, can’t hold it.”

Desperately squirming on top of Bucky, you press your parted lips to his, panting into his mouth. “Go on, cum for me.”

You let go, moaning as you jolt forward, embracing Bucky’s pace, clinging to his frame, letting him take complete control. “There you go—” Bucky’s words get increasingly gravelly as he feels himself climaxing.

His hot breath cascades down your neck–the heightening, deep, harsh snaps of hips let you know he is close. “B-Bucky, please. Please c-cum in me,” you breathlessly mumble.

“Fuck, bunny.”

Bucky holds you close, soothing you from the bliss. He isn’t thinking about anything else besides you in his arms. He lets you bask in the comfortable silence as the pulse between your legs ebbs away until all that is left painting your sensitive folds is his smooth seed that you begged him to fill you up with.

Keeping your clammy cheek pressed to his beating chest Bucky reaches for one of the pool towels he had brought out to clean up to the best of his abilities.

“Said we were swimming, and you wouldn’t just fuck me,” you murmur, voice still raspy as you pull yourself out of the hazy aftermath.

Bucky chuckles as he lays the towel back down. “Really are using my word’s against me today, aren’t you?”

“Uhmm,” you happily hum back at Bucky, shifting up to press your buzzing lips back onto his.

𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

I want to say thank you for all of your sweet messages on my form. They all mean a lot to me, and I wish there was a way for me to respond. I hope you guys enjoyed the fic. Sending my love.

@nats-whore @floral-recs @spideysloverera @charmed-asylum @balekanemohafe @mogaruke @hallecarey1 @harrysthiccthighss @h4rpss @hawsx3 @buckysboobs @awaywithtime @peaceinourtime82 @glitterydeputyshepherdwagon @freakyevanss @evanstanwhore @sunflowerfive @phildunphyisadilf @mysweetlittledesire @raajali3 @traumbruch @aerangi @winterslove1917 @vase-of-lilies @sebastiansluts @spideysimpossiblegirl @lovelyy-moonlight @suchababie @wintasssoldier @stuckysgirl27 @rach2602 @tom-holland-parker @stuckytown @amelia-song-pond @greengarsstuff @kellhems @pandaxnienke @alina02 @daddyreid @thecavernalmistress96 @bluevxnus @buckybarnesandmarvel @crispysublimecupcake @lonesomewitchking @antisocialwritingx @amklavus @yongi-lee @lechaircharles @corruptedcoffin

If your tag is in the second list, please check your settings or fill out my taglist form again!

@buchanansbaby @deaniu @tenpointsforbucky @noorreads @thrxshsxbbxth @sgt-tasm @mandiblanche @peakwak @orange80 @marvellover91 @harriettrose1 @purplecreatortragedy @milanaasblog @loveisalover @recut-mo @mythicbitchx @hannahmarie5718 @magilicutty69

846 notes · View notes

glossdebut · 13 days

Text

Take a Bite Ch. 3

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you're finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off... Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You've accepted the fact that romance isn't for you, under any circumstances. You won't risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

✧ TAGS: slow burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, producer yoongi, music journalist reader, neighbors to friends to lovers? you'll see, reader is bad at feelings, reader is post-break up

✧ WARNINGS: yoongi being RICH. also... remember that eventual smut? well it's kind of here! if you wanna skip, stop reading at [Maybe you should fix that.] and then continue at [After another moment, you roll over onto your stomach...]

✧ WORDCOUNT: 3.5k

✧ STATUS: ongoing

✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE: hi i normally post on wednesdays but we're about to get a HURRICANE where i'm at so i'm posting early lmfao. rating goes up in this chapter whoops! not sure when chapter 4 will be posted but i'll keep you guys updated. thank you all so much for the engagement i've been receiving on this fic!!! it's my first one ever and i never expected to get so many readers so quickly <3 you guys are keeping me writing so please feel free to send me feedback if you like this chapter. i'd love to read it if i have power over the next few days LOL

Chapter 3: I Wanna Fold Clothes For You

So, you and Yoongi are friends.

Of course, seeing him three times within twenty four hours was a fluke, and over the next six days you don’t see him once, not even in passing in your shared hallway. You’re not privy to his work hours, but you know based on what little he’s told you that working as a producer demands more than the normal nine to five, as does your job.

Still, there’s something about coming home every night and knowing that you have a friend right down the hall, if you need one. You haven’t had that in a long time, and you feel so much lighter now that you do have it.

There is, of course, an upside to not being able to see Yoongi often. Given that you’ve only just met him, you don’t have his appearance committed to memory quite yet, and mercifully, you’re beginning to forget why you were so viscerally attracted to him in the first place.

You reason that it must’ve been the alcohol. You were getting drunk when you met him, stupidly drunk when you discovered that you’re neighbors, hungover when you shared a tangerine, and drinking from a bottomless glass of wine (courtesy of Seokjin) when you drooled over his hands for a solid ten minutes. You have yet to interact with Yoongi clear-headed and lucid. Not to mention you’re just a little bit… pent up, recently. Drunk and horny Y/N had the wheel. That has to be it. Nobody is that hot. You’re sure of that. Men ain’t special!

So you go through your week business as usual, but with a slight spring in your step, and it’s lovely. You even venture way further away from the office for your lunch hour on Friday than you normally would to go to a restaurant you’ve been dying to try. You’re usually so tied to the office that the furthest you tend to go is the convenience store down the street for the instant stuff.

And then, since the universe demands correction (or overcorrection where you’re concerned), all of the floaty goodness comes to a screeching halt when you get in your car to head back to the office. Your car which, in the past hour you’ve been blissfully stuffing your face with tteokbokki, has decided it has done its job and is ready to retire.

It just straight up won’t start.

Sitting in the parking lot of the restaurant, you go into crisis management mode.

You’re thankfully not completely clueless where cars are concerned. It comes with the territory of owning a beater. You keep up with your oil changes, you don’t leave the lights on when you get home late. You replaced your battery semi-recently, so that shouldn’t be it. Unfortunately, you don’t have much time to troubleshoot. You need to get back to work. Okay… Damage control, then.

The most obvious solution is to call one of your coworkers to come and rescue you, but your coworkers are just as notorious for being tethered within a one mile radius of the office as you are, so that would more than likely end up being a waste of time. You could find the nearest bus stop, but who knows how long public transportation could take right now? Too unpredictable. You could call your boss and tell him that you’re not going to be back to the office anytime soon (or at all today) and get your car towed and repaired. But then you would suddenly have a reputation of being unreliable, because god forbid you have a human moment. That’s straight up not an option. You’ve been doing so good this week.

You’re sure there are other options. But isn’t this what friends are for?

He answers on the fifth ring, but he answers.

“Y/N?”

“Yoongi.” You feel your shoulders slump in relief. You try your best not to sound as panicked as you feel. “Are you busy?”

“Um. I’m at the studio,” he says, confusion in his voice. “But I have a minute. Is everything okay?” Confusion and concern? That’s nice.

“Everything’s fine!” you blurt out. “Okay, maybe not. My car won’t start! I don’t know why, but it won’t, and I need to get back to work, but you’re at work, too! I don’t even know where you work, but I doubt it’s anywhere near where I am, and even if it is, I don’t want to tear you away from anything important—”

“Y/N.”

“—I know you said you had a minute, but I really don’t want to fuck up your flow. That’s a term, right? You’re a producer, you… flow. Anyway, I just don’t really know anyone here and I didn’t know who to call, and if I don’t get back to work soon my boss is going to kill me—”

“Y/N,” he says, more firmly. Your mouth snaps shut. “Where are you?”

“In my car,” you say dumbly, frazzled.

Yoongi sighs. “Send me your location.”

“For what?”

“I’m gonna send a car to come get you and drive you to your office,” he says, and he sounds just the slightest bit exasperated about needing to explain that to you.

Send a car? What the fuck? You have so many questions, such as: how fucking loaded is the guy who lives two doors down from you in your very shitty apartment building? What label does he even work for? How famous of a producer is he to be able to send a car to you? But your immediate instinct to turn down his help wins out over asking any of them.

“What? Yoongi, no, that’s too much,” you complain. “Don’t do that. I just freaked out a little bit, I can–”

“Y/N,” he interrupts. If you’re not mistaken, it sounds a bit like he’s trying not to laugh at you. Fucker. “Location.”

So you send him your location. What other option do you have?

“You’re not far,” Yoongi says once he receives your text. A few moments pass, and then: “Car will be there in ten.”

“Thank you,” you say. You feel nauseous, like maybe you’re going to cry, but there’s also a good amount of relief there, too. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“No need,” he says. “I’d come get you myself, but I really can’t get away right now.”

“Still, there’s a comically large bottle of an alcohol of your choosing in your future. Seriously, thank you.”

His responding laugh is enough to settle your stomach just a little. “Seriously, you don’t need to pay me back…” A pause. “But for the record, I like whiskey.”

You wrinkle your nose even though he can’t see it. “Gross.”

“Don’t be a hater.”

“As long as you don’t make me drink it with you, I’ll keep my comments to myself,” you say, finding yourself smiling.

“Oh, you think I share?” Yoongi teases back. He sighs again. “I really have to go.”

“Go, go,” you say. “Thanks for saving me. Even if it’s by proxy.”

“You can always call me if you need shit like this,” he says. You can tell that he means it. “I’m glad you called me. Means I’m doing something right.”

“You are,” you say, your voice soft. Your cheeks feel warm. Probably because you’re sitting in a dead car. “Thanks.”

Yoongi hums in response. “Text me when you get back to the office safe, okay?”

“I will. Bye, Yoongi.”

And that’s that.

★ ★ ★

True to your word, you text Yoongi when the stupidly luxurious car he ordered for you drops you off at your office, only ten minutes later than you’re due back from your lunch break. You’re able to slip in without anyone noticing that you’re late at all, which is great. Crisis partially averted.

He sends back a thumbs up emoji, and then decides to drop the bomb that he intends to pay for your car to be towed.

[1:21] You: YOONGI NO

[1:21] You: you can’t do that!!!!

[1:24] Yoongi: 100% I can and will as soon as I get ten minutes to make a phone call to sort it out.

The audacity of this man.

[1:25] You: seriously i cannot ask you to do that

[1:25] You: i was just going to take the bus back to the restaurant after work and deal with it from there. i’m actively researching towing companies and repair places on company time as we speak

[1:30] Yoongi: You’re not asking me. You’ve got enough to worry about. Let me take care of it. I know the places.

[1:31] You: still, i can’t let you spend money like that on me. i don’t even wanna think about what that car cost you

[1:31] Yoongi: If it helps you sleep at night you can pay me back on your own time. You definitely don’t have to though.

[1:32] Yoongi: That reminds me. You can use that car until yours is taken care of if you need to. I’ll send you the driver’s contact. Don’t take the bus.

You feel like you’re going insane.

[1:33] You: do you have a grammy or something? what do you DO to be able to afford shit like this? why do you live in our building? are you a drug dealer?

[1:37] Yoongi: :]

Of course, he gives you no clues about what exactly he does, but after a bit more back-and-forth, you finally give in and let Yoongi handle everything under the condition that you’re going to pay him back. He doesn’t seem all that worried about it, which infuriates you just a little.

You go through the rest of your day like normal, if not a tad twitchy. Come quitting time, you take advantage of having a driver at your disposal and have him stop a liquor store on your way home.

As you take the elevator up to your floor, comically large whiskey bottle (as promised) in tow, you text Yoongi and ask if he’s home yet. At his responding ‘No, why?’ you cackle to yourself and pocket your phone. The elevator doors slide open. You were hoping that would be the case.

You clocked out at a semi-normal time tonight, a gift to yourself to cope with the stress of the day, and so you take great pleasure in setting the bottle down on Yoongi’s very tasteful cat doormat, flipping it off right back on your way into your own apartment.

You silently pray to whatever god may be listening that the whiskey isn’t swiped by someone before Yoongi gets home. Your cat, Pepper, is blinking at you lazily on the kitchen counter, and you give her a triumphant little scratch on the head before padding to your bedroom to deal with your laundry.

Your move, Min Yoongi.

★ ★ ★

“Do I need to be jealous?”

You take advantage of getting off work early to call your best friend Rina for the first time in what feels like forever. She’s in Paris this month, debuting a play that she’s been working on tirelessly about aliens and drug addiction. You’ve read the script six times over. It’s both campy and gut wrenching all at once, and you’ve cried every time. You picture her with her very chic haircut, sipping from a flute of champagne. The thought of her being jealous of any part of your life is laughable.

“What do you have to be jealous of, exactly?” you snort, holding your phone between your ear and shoulder as you toss your laundry basket upside down on your bed unceremoniously. Your clothes are covered in a perma-layer of Pepper hair, and you think it’s lucky that Pepper is a black cat and most of your clothes are black. Very enviable.

“Of Yoongi, dipshit,” she coos through the phone. “You’re replacing me.”

“Sure,” you say, like she’s making total sense. You’re lying on top of your laundry now instead of folding it. You put her on speakerphone and rest your phone on your chest. “I’m throwing away ten years of being your best friend for a guy that I met a week ago. I’m glad you figured it out, honestly, because I was dreading telling you. I was going to wait until your matinée, but you don’t seem too broken up about it.”

“Of course. You have to do what’s right for you, I’ve always told you that,” she deadpans back, and you groan. You don’t want to hear it. “No, I just mean… It’s good. That you’re meeting people.”

“We’re neighbors,” you say, flopping over onto your front to rub at your temples. Rina is resting on a pile of your underwear now. “We talk about work. My work, not his, because he thinks it’s funny to act like he’s too cool to tell me about his job. He’s helping me with my car. We’re… neighborly.”

“And you want to fuck him,” she says. Maybe calling Rina was a bad idea. Debriefing over text would have sufficed.

“I don’t want to fuck him,” you say, indignant. “We’re friends. He’s nice. I can have a guy friend.”

“Of course you can,” Rina says, like you’re dumb for even thinking she would imply otherwise. “And you can be friends with him all you want. But you also want to fuck him.”

You groan in protest but she speaks over it.

“Baby, you can pretend, but I know how you talk about people you want to have sex with, even if you don’t say it outright,” she continues. “He may just be feeding you and helping you and talking to you about the weather, but I know you, and I know the whole time he’s talking you’re just agonizing over how he might fuck you if you let him.”

“That’s not fair,” you mumble, letting your face drop into your laundry. It smells good. Small comforts.

“Are you going to let him?”

“No,” you whine, muffled by the cotton. “I don’t need that. There are always strings. I hate strings.”

“You said he’s a super straightforward, honest guy, right?” Rina asks.

“Brutally so,” you grumble.

“So. Maybe he’d be cool with a lack of strings. You won’t know unless you ask, baby.”

You want to tell her that’s easy for her to say, but you don’t want to fight with her when you know you won’t hear from her like this again for a while.

Rina has never compromised for anything. She decided in both of your sophomore year of college, after flirting with both performance and directing, that she wanted to be a playwright, and that was that.

She wrote and wrote and wrote, and after you graduated together, her career blossomed almost instantly because she worked goddamn hard for it. She got opportunities to travel and work with theatre companies around the world, and she took them without giving it a second thought because she knew it was what she wanted. And she’s had a consistent, loyal boyfriend nearly the whole time. He doesn’t always travel with her, but he supports her in everything she does. They’re excruciatingly healthy about it.

When your long-term college boyfriend dumped you unceremoniously two months into your first reporter gig because he felt he came second to your career, Rina was there for you. But you resented her a little bit. There was no way she could understand any of it.

Still, as much as you hate to admit it, she has a point. You could just ask Yoongi if he wants to fool around without it being a thing, and you know he’d give you a straight answer. You’re even pretty confident he wouldn’t make it weird if his answer was no. That’s not the problem. It never is.

“The problem isn’t whether or not I think he’d be cool with it,” you mumble. “The problem is if he is cool with it, and then the strings come anyway. The friendship is nice. I’m attracted to him, yeah, fine. But I can ignore it if it means I get to be his friend.”

Theres a long pause on the line, and then Rina sighs.

“Your life would be a lot easier if you could do one night stands,” she says.

Don’t you know it.

“Yeah.”

“I’ve gotta go, okay? Text me. Keep me updated on life.” You read between the lines. On Yoongi, she means. “I love you.”

“Mmmhh,” you mumble back, still burying your face into your laundry.

When the line disconnects, you feel considerably more twitchy and irritable than you did before talking to Rina.

So, you’re attracted to Yoongi. Or you were, when you were drunk and he was all… hot and considerate. That doesn’t mean you have to act on it! You’re not going to act on it. You’re just pent up, that’s all. It’s been a long time since you’ve had an orgasm, self-inflicted or otherwise, and you can’t think straight.

Maybe you should fix that.

It’s clear you’re giving up on laundry for the night, so you shove the mountain of clothes back into the basket on the floor, sighing as you lay back on your bed.

You feel only slightly ridiculous as you shimmy your sleep shorts down your thighs, your hands sliding up your shirt to cup your breasts, squeezing slightly. Warming yourself up.

You quickly decide to get to the point, though. You’re struggling to immerse yourself in the fantasy that usually does the trick, too wound up and embarrassed (as if it’s not you in here by yourself, as usual) at groping yourself.

Despite the embarrassment, it becomes abundantly clear that you didn’t really need to warm yourself up anyway. Your fingers slide through your folds with ease, drenched like you’ve been that way all fucking day, unbeknownst to you, and a surprised moan falls from your lips. Fuck.

Closing your eyes, you circle two fingers around your clit experimentally, making your hips jerk up under you, sensitive. You do it again, a little firmer, starting a slow rhythm that makes you squirm against your mattress, your bottom lip rolling between your teeth.

It feels good. It usually does—you’ve always been able to make quick work of an orgasm to rid yourself of any lingering jitters before bed. But it feels really good right now, your pussy extra sensitive tonight, and you can’t figure out why. There’s nothing new about what you’re doing.

Rina’s words worm their way into your brain uninvited—the whole time he’s talking you’re just agonizing over how he might fuck you if you let him—and you’re too turned on to stop that train of thought, flashes of capable hands and pink tongue (tonguetechnologytonguetechnologytonguetechnology) filling your mind, and you’re moaning softly despite yourself as you rub your clit a little faster.

You continue to make soft noises of pleasure, your tongue darting out to wet your lips, dry from panting as the barrage of Yoongi-related thoughts keep coming, bringing you closer and closer to your release.

Dark, dark eyes looking down at you. A delicate chain dangling above your face. You whimper, your fingers sliding down from your clit to sink into your pussy, curling up to rub at your inner walls. A thick cock sliding into you, filling you so deliciously.

You pump your fingers fast and desperate as you get closer and closer to that sweet edge. You wonder what Yoongi would sound like if he was the one fucking into you right now. Would he moan in your ear in that gravelly voice of his? He’s a man of few words. Would he be like that in bed, too? Would he call you sweet names? Not so sweet? Which ones?

Your walls flutter around your fingers, your hips stuttering up off the mattress as your orgasm crashes over you and you gasp out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

You stare up at the ceiling for a minute panting. The high of your release buzzes pleasantly through your body before it starts ebbing away, but the thoughts of Yoongi pervade. Well, fuck.

After another moment, you roll over onto your stomach to grab a towel from your laundry basket and wipe off your fingers, tossing it on the floor. You grab your phone, only to be greeted by a notification from the subject of your masturbation fantasy himself. He sent it about ten minutes ago.

When you tap it open, you’re greeted with a photo (!!!) of Yoongi holding your gift next to his head, the hand wrapped around the neck of the whiskey bottle almost dwarfed by its sheer size. A testament to the ridiculousness of it, because you’re well aware of how long Yoongi’s fingers are. There’s a lazy smirk on his face, and a mole that you’re just now noticing on his right cheek.

[8:23] Yoongi: Cute.

Yep. Yep. Cool.

You swipe out, tapping on Rina’s contact.

[8:35] You: okay. i want to fuck him.

[8:35] Rina: 🥂🥳🎉

Shit.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future chapters!

@dollfaceksj @jajabro

PREVIOUS CHAPTER ✧ MASTERLIST ✧ NEXT CHAPTER

#take a bite #bts fanfiction #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi fanfiction #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi smut #minors dni

63 notes · View notes

zombiewhor3 · 2 years

Text

SOUTH PAW?

carl grimes x fem reader

WARNINGS: mentions of character death (Abraham & Glenn), mentions of gore, traumatic events, mentions of amputation, begging, mentions of pregnancy (Maggie's), Negan, unedited work.

A/N: sorry for the long break, i've been so busy with a lot of things but i have a few scrap drafts i might put together and post so i'll try my best to update my queue this week.

a long night of violence is how she could describe it, a long night of tears pouring down everyone's faces as they watched a cruel man bash in two of their friends heads without even such an ounce of mercy for their poor souls in his mind.

the night felt like the eternity but as the sun had risen and the night faded it was still like a fever dream, like this wasn't all real and she was going to have to wake up soon from this nightmare.

except this was all real, Abraham and Glenn's dead bodies with their heads smashed in that was real, all of the blood splattered on y/n's face from the slinging of Negan's bat that was real.

she watched as Rick was tossed back out onto the gravel, his hands reaching to stop himself as he followed the man's forceful orders to get on all fours while he kneeled down to him.

"i'm giving you a choice Rick and this is your grand prize, what you do next will decide whether it becomes just those twos bad day or the rest of these lovely men and women sitting in front of us"

he gestured with his hands for his men to point guns at the back of their heads and y/n could feel the barrel pressed against the back of her head making her swallow harshly.

her knees started to ache from the rocks that pressed against them, the blood of a father figure had dried on her face and she could almost feel like it had been sinking into the pores of her skin.

she felt gross to have the blood on her, she felt sick each time she even looked at the dead man who was next to her, she felt sick knowing his pregnant wife was a sobbing wreck just a few feet away.

and Carl had hated to see her cry with each strike from Negan's bat that pounded into Glenn's head like he wasn't a person but yet just a piece of meat Negan used as his beating ground.

she watched as Negan had approached Carl making her heart sink as he rested his bat against his shoulder and she watched as some of the blood smeared out onto his leather.

he held out a hand to Carl who cocked his head hesitantly as he tried to ignore the gesture but Negan smiled and cleared his throat before speaking up "take my hand kid" he spoke bitterly watching as the teen finally gave in and took the man's hand.

he was stood up and Negan had waved his arm out to the side to where the boy's father rested on the ground, blood on his face, eye bags and his eyes red as his eye were still looking like they had been watering again, like they were on the brim of tears.

he pointed at the spot empty next to his father as Carl took a few steps watching as Negan stood in front of him taking a quite consideration to the gauze over his missing eye.

"you a south paw?" he asked watching as Carl looked clearly confused by a phrase he never heard before and it made Negan re-phrase his question to him, "you a lefty?" he watched as Carl shook his head while Negan pulled out a belt and un-raveled it.

he tied a belt against the boy's arm, "that hurt?" Negan remarked watching as the boy in the hat snapped back a quick 'no' before looking down at the leather tightened on his arm.

"on the ground next to Daddy and don't forget to spread your wings boy" Negan spoke as he watched Carl lay flat on the ground, his head turning in the direction to where he could see y/n and his father.

he could see the terror on his girlfriends face, the fear stuck in her eyes as her palms were flat and sinking into the same gravel the soft flesh of his cheek had now been resting against.

he could hear the crunching of Negan's boots against the rocks, and it stopped once he could see him crouch next to him thanking Simon for the pen that was given to him,

he himself was scared of what he had planned for him, what Negan had planned to do to Carl especially in front of his father and his girlfriend who had more tears pouring down her face.

he marked Carl's arm and apologized in such an sarcastic way that Carl had never even heard a human being sound so derisive in that way, even in the apocalypse.

he could hear his father start to beg as his girlfriend looked down at the ground using the back of her hand to cover up her sniffles, to cover up the rapid breathing spilling out from her.

he could see the harsh way her body rattled as she tried to manage to stay quiet in the fear that someone else would die, in fear that maybe it'd be her or even Carl that'd be next.

the word please was pouring like a continuous river in his head, the word his father kept repeating over and over as he begged Negan to show his son some mercy, to show he himself some mercy.

"don't beg me because i ain't the one doing shit" Negan spoke roughly patting Rick against the back before he gave his next order at the quite obvious traumatized man who was on all fours before him.

"Rick pick up your ax," he paused licking his chapped lips clean before continuing what he wanted Rick to do, "and cut off your son's left arm, now i know you're gonna have to process that for a second and believe me that makes sense so i'll give you a minute"

a loud gasp of air had erupted from y/n's mouth as she closed her eyes at the feeling of the barrel pressing even harder against the back of her head making her lip shake and her eyes flood.

he stood up and rubbed his hands on the denim of his pants watching as Rick's expression turn into now an even stronger pleading one, like it was just the ocean color of his eyes and the quiver of his lip giving off all the true emotion even more than his words that were spilled in such a babble of emotion.

"i am still gonna need you to do it though or all these people are going to die, then Carl dies, then the people back at your home die, and i'm gonna keep you living for a few years just so you can think about the decision you make right now"

Negan looked around at the men and women all lined up, and yet one had the courage to speak up, y/n to be exact only had the courage to speak up because it was her boyfriends life on the line.

"you d-don't have to do t-this, We understand! please we u-understand!" she looked down at her boyfriend who almost had a few tears slipping of his own as he looked at her,

as he looked at the shaking and sobbing mess this man had turned her into, he watched the sorrow tearing through her like a walker who was hungry for flesh.

he seemed to like the fear that ran though all of them, he liked the idea of watching them all tremble while they payed the price of wiping out one of his out posts because something about the pity and the terror gave him power, it gave him control.

"I'm not so sure Rick does. So i'm gonna need a clean cut right there on that line i drew out for you! now believe me this is a screwed up thing to ask, trust me i know but it's gonna have to be clean nothing messy so our doctors can fold something over."

he watched Rick tremble as he kneeled and continued to spew out his words, "we have great doctors the kid'll be fine, probably. and Rick we're in a time frame so this needs to happen now or i will crush this fella's head in myself"

"please i can take his place" Rick begged over and over as his throat felt sore and his mouth dry while his eyes ached and his head started to pound at the idea of hurting his son.

"please Negan please" Rick begged again watching as the man ran over some stubble of his beard and shook his head with a 'no' to answer Rick's pleas for it to be him instead.

"this is the only way, not making this decision is a big decision. Do you want to see everyone in front of you die? because if you don't pick up that ax you will, and you will see everything"

Rick cleared his throat as his hands remained planted in the rocks still in a pity of confusion from the whole situation, and now Negan had started to count loudly and once he got to one Rick had his ax raised while Carl was yelling at him to go through with it.

Y/n sobbed into her hands as she could hear her boyfriend cry out for his own father to cut off his arm, and when she could hear the soft chuckle of Negan and the soft gasping of Rick and not even a subtle yell or scream from Carl but yet she still buried her face.

Negan had taken the ax away from Rick's raised arm and he reached up a hand to pull Carl up from the ground, "you answer to me, you provide for me, you belong to me" and Rick nodded his head and agreed to the fact that he had now belonged to Negan and his men.

"see that look is the look i wanted to see! and man we did it, even those dead guys with the smashed in brains get a participation award for sure" he sighed as he tossed his bat over his shoulder.

"i hope for everyone's sake you understand how things work around here, things change and right about now they've changed whatever you had going for you is over, now i'll be back in a week Rick so use the truck i'll leave to gather my shit or someone else dies."

"I can't look, I can't, Carl please"

she mumbled feeling as someone in front of her had tugged on her hands softly, but she still held them against her face in fear she would see other blood being shed that she didn't want to see.

"look at me y/n, look at me"

he spoke finally being able to pull her hands away from her face once she realized that it was Carl and he had both of his arms, he furrowed his brows softly watching as she quivered and couldn't keep her eyes away from the line that he had drawn out onto his arm.

once he and his men had left y/n tried to stand but she could only drop back on her knees as she looked over at the dead man on the ground next to her, she gasped as her knees felt weak.

and it was Carl who lifted her up, it was Carl's arms that wrapped around her while he gave her the comfort of burying her face into the soft fabric of his flannel to shield herself from the damage and the violence that had been done to her friend.

she sobbed so hard that she could feel it shake both of their bodies, Carl stroked over her hair and watched as she shook under his grasp, she shook so hard her body started to wobble.

she couldn't speak because every time she tried to get a word out it was just a rush of tears, a rush of gasps for air, a rush of mutters that weren't even comprehensible to him or her.

her vision seemed blurry and her head was pounding so hard and her heart beat so fast she felt like she was dying, she felt like the world had been slipping away from her finger tips.

the only word that had been able to be heard was a loud gasp of 'no' as she looked at the line still on his arm, the line where Negan wanted Rick to chop off his arm, the line that now told trembling stories.

she squeezed her hand on it so tight that even the belt hadn't cut off that much circulation to his arm, she clung to his shirt as she could hear the sound of someone's shoes crunching against the gravel.

she could hear Maggie's cries and Rick who whispered something to his son who held out onto the shaking y/n, Sasha and Rosita frozen in such a terror and disbelief, Eugene still crying softly, Aaron and Michonne who were sitting in such a pity of silence.

and the two bodies around them.

y/n had slipped to her knees and Carl had let her, he let her bury her face into the ground and he rubbed her back as he tried to stop her from hyper ventilating at the shock around her but it was no use because it felt a ton of bricks were pressing against her chest.

She could feel a second hand on her back and she could tell it was Rick's by the wedding ring that she could feel through the cotton t-shirt she had been wearing,

"oh god, t-that c-could've been y-you" she sputtered out as she still felt like she could feel the specks of blood hitting her cheek with each and every strike from Negan's bat smashing into the pour mans head.

her body ached and it felt like her lungs had now finally collapsed in from the harsh beating her heart had pushed off, her bones ached from all the shaking and her cheeks were sore from the amount of tears that had been poured down them.

"i'm right here y/n, i'm right here" he had dropped to his knees and placed his hat down on the ground, he let his knees sink into the same rocks where the bodies laid.

where Maggie's tears had poured and where they knew the rest of the lives had just changed forever because they got the shit end of a deal they should've never even taken.

"Maggie" she managed to gasp out as she could feel her limp body being lifted up by not just Carl but his father, they had lifted her up so she could be taken to Maggie.

the widow's lungs gasped for air as she looked down at the ground, her knees ached and she felt sick even sicker than before, she could feel the teen reach out and place a soft but shaking hand a top of hers and to which she had finally spoken out.

"you need to go, you need to get everyone out of here Rick" Maggie spoke still sounding so brave, like she was keeping it all together when in reality she was spiraling in her mind.

spiraling at the fact her father, her sister and now her husband the father of her child had been killed in front of her, after they had begged and after they had tried their best to bargain.

"he's our family to, we'll do this together" Rick spoke watching as Maggie sniffled and the still distraught teen next to her had nodded along with the idea as her eyes filled with seeping tears.

"he's right we'll do it t-together because we're all family"

1K notes · View notes

logansargeantsbabymom · 2 months

Text

Love Doesn’t Have To Hurt

BREIF Logan Sargeant x Fem!Sainz!Reader, Lando Norris x Fem!Sainz!Reader, Carlos Sainz x Fem!Sainz!Reader

A/N: I’ve really been trying my best with keeping up with writing and posting within a timely manner but it hurts me that someone (not naming names) took my first ever post and copied and pasted it as their own, I mean I’m flattered that you love my writing so much you posted it to your own account but please, that was disrespectful. To everyone who has reported or shared that post and helped me by sending me kind words and how to prevent things like this from happening again, thank you so much! I don’t know yet whether or not Im going to be annoying and take ANOTHER short break but this is messing with me a little. Enjoy this story though, I’ve had it in my drafts for a week or two.

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

Instagram

F1 Masterlist

Y/N Sainz had always been close to her older brother, Carlos. Growing up in the shadow of his racing career had its perks, but it also meant she was constantly surrounded by his friends, including Lando Norris. From the moment they met, Y/N and Lando had an easy rapport, their banter light and effortless.

Lando quickly became a fixture in her life, always around for family dinners, race weekends, and impromptu hangouts. Their friendship was easy, natural, and uncomplicated—or so it seemed. For years, Y/N harbored a secret crush on Lando, carefully hidden behind the mask of friendship. She never acted on it, fearing it would ruin not only their friendship but also complicate things with Carlos.

Y/N had been dating Logan Sargeant for two years, a relationship that seemed perfect on the outside. Logan was charming and attentive, and they appeared to be the ideal couple. But behind closed doors, cracks began to form. Logan's attention waned, and Y/N found herself increasingly lonely and insecure.

The final blow came when she discovered Logan had been cheating on her. The betrayal shattered her, leaving her heartbroken and wary of trusting anyone again. Carlos was livid, ready to confront Logan, but Y/N begged him not to. She wanted to heal on her own terms, away from the drama and conflict.

Lando was there for her during those dark days, offering a shoulder to cry on and a listening ear. He had always admired Y/N's strength and resilience, but seeing her so vulnerable only deepened his feelings for her. Yet, he kept his distance, knowing she needed time to recover.

It was during a summer vacation in Monaco when things began to change. Carlos had invited a few friends to join them at their family's villa, and Lando was, of course, among them. The days were filled with laughter, swimming, and late-night conversations under the stars.

One evening, after a particularly exhilarating race, the group decided to celebrate at a local club. The atmosphere was electric, and the drinks were flowing. Y/N found herself sitting next to Lando, their knees brushing as they talked.

"You were amazing today," Y/N said, her voice sincere. "I don't think I've ever seen you drive like that."

Lando smiled, a warm, genuine smile that made her heart flutter. "Thanks, Y/N. It means a lot coming from you."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world around them faded. There was a spark, an undeniable connection that neither of them could ignore. But just as quickly, Y/N looked away, the reality of her recent heartbreak crashing down on her. She couldn't risk opening herself up again, not after Logan.

Despite their unspoken feelings, Y/N and Lando tried to maintain the status quo. But the spark between them was impossible to ignore, and one evening, after everyone else had gone to bed, they found themselves alone in the villa's garden.

"Lando, we need to talk," Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't keep pretending that nothing's changed."

Lando nodded, his expression serious. "I know. I feel it too, Y/N. But what are we supposed to do? Carlos will kill me if he finds out."

Y/N sighed, her heart aching with the weight of their predicament. "I don't know. But I can't keep hiding how I feel."

Lando took a deep breath, reaching out to take her hand. "We'll figure it out. Together."

From that night on, they began a secret relationship, stolen moments and whispered confessions. It wasn't easy, especially for Y/N, who struggled with trust and vulnerability after Logan's betrayal. But Lando was patient, showing her that love didn't have to hurt, that it could be gentle and kind.

Keeping their relationship a secret was more challenging than either of them had anticipated. There were close calls, moments when they almost slipped up. Like the time Carlos nearly walked in on them kissing in Lando's hotel room. Or the time Y/N accidentally sent Lando a flirty text meant for her eyes only, which he opened in front of Carlos.

Each close call only heightened the tension, but it also made their bond stronger. They became experts at hiding their feelings in public, but when they were alone, the intensity of their love was palpable.

The constant secrecy began to take its toll on Y/N. She hated lying to Carlos, and the stress of keeping their relationship hidden was wearing her down. One evening, after a particularly close call, she and Lando found themselves arguing in hushed tones in his hotel room.

"I can't keep doing this, Lando," Y/N said, tears in her eyes. "It's tearing me apart."

Lando's heart ached at the sight of her tears. "I know, Y/N. I hate this too. But what choice do we have? If we tell Carlos, he'll never forgive us."

Y/N shook her head, her voice breaking. "I can't keep lying to him. He deserves to know the truth. And if he can't accept it, then at least we tried."

Lando took a deep breath, knowing she was right. "Okay. We'll tell him. Together."

The opportunity to come clean presented itself sooner than they expected. It was the night before a big race, and Carlos had invited Lando and Y/N to dinner. The atmosphere was tense, the weight of their secret hanging over them.

As they sat down to eat, Y/N took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. "Carlos, there's something we need to tell you."

Carlos looked up, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What is it, Y/N?"

Y/N glanced at Lando, who nodded encouragingly. "Lando and I... we're together. We've been seeing each other for a while now."

The silence that followed was deafening. Carlos's expression hardened, his jaw clenching. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"No, it's not," Lando said, his voice steady. "We didn't mean for it to happen, but it did. And we love each other."

Carlos stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "You lied to me. Both of you. How could you do this?”

Y/N felt tears welling up in her eyes. "Carlos, please understand. We didn't want to hurt you."

Carlos shook his head, his eyes filled with betrayal. "I need some time to think."

The days that followed were painful and tense. Carlos avoided both Y/N and Lando, throwing himself into his work and the upcoming race. Y/N felt the weight of his disappointment and anger, but she knew they had done the right thing by being honest.

Lando was a constant source of support, holding her when she cried and reassuring her that they would get through this together. It wasn't easy, but their love was strong, and they were determined to weather the storm.

Lando knew that words alone wouldn't be enough to mend the rift between him and Carlos. He needed to show Carlos that his feelings for Y/N were genuine and deep. During the next race weekend, Lando approached Carlos with a plan.

"Carlos, I know you're still upset, and you have every right to be," Lando began, his voice sincere. "But I want to prove to you that my feelings for Y/N are real and that I'll do anything to make her happy. Let me help you with your race prep this weekend, and maybe you'll see that I'm serious about this."

Carlos studied Lando for a moment, then gave a curt nod. "Fine. Let's see if you're as serious as you say."

The weekend was grueling, with Lando juggling his own race preparations and assisting Carlos. But he threw himself into the work, showing not only his dedication to his own career but also his commitment to earning Carlos's trust.

After the race, which went spectacularly well for both Carlos and Lando, Carlos finally sat down with his sister. They were in her hotel room, the evening light casting long shadows on the walls.

"Y/N, I need to understand," Carlos said, his voice soft but intense. "Why Lando? After everything that happened with Logan, why take that risk again?"

Y/N took a deep breath, her eyes meeting Carlos's. "Because Lando showed me that love doesn't have to hurt, Carlos. He was there for me when Logan broke my heart. He was patient, kind, and he never pushed me. He loves me in a way that I never thought was possible."

Carlos's expression softened as he listened. "I just don't want you to get hurt again, Y/N. You're my little sister, and I want to protect you."

Y/N reached out and took Carlos's hand. "I know, and I love you for that. But Lando makes me happy. I need you to trust me, and to trust him."

Carlos sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Okay. I'll try. But if he ever hurts you, he's going to have to answer to me."

Y/N smiled, relief flooding through her. "Thank you, Carlos. That means the world to me."

With Carlos's reluctant blessing, Y/N and Lando were finally able to be open about their relationship. The burden of secrecy lifted, they found a new sense of freedom and joy. Their love grew stronger, and they faced the challenges of their relationship together, knowing they had Carlos's support.

In time, the tension between Carlos and Lando eased, and they found their way back to the friendship they had always cherished. Y/N was grateful for the understanding and forgiveness her brother had shown, and she knew that no matter what, they would always be a family.

Lando proved to be the perfect partner for Y/N, supporting her dreams and ambitions while pursuing his own. They became each other's rock, facing the ups and downs of life in the fast lane together.

One evening, as the sun set over the Monaco coastline, the Sainz family and Lando gathered for a dinner. It was a special occasion, one that marked not only the success of Carlos's season but also the strength and unity of their family.

During dinner, Carlos raised his glass, his eyes shining with pride and affection. "To family, and to the people who make us better. Y/N, Lando, I'm proud of you both. You've shown me that love can be strong, even when it's tested. Here's to the future."

Y/N and Lando exchanged a smile, their hearts full. They clinked glasses, surrounded by the warmth and love of their family.

As the seasons changed and the years passed, Y/N and Lando's relationship continued to flourish. They faced new challenges and adventures together, their bond growing stronger with each passing day. Carlos remained a constant presence in their lives, supporting them and cheering them on.

—

I have no clue what the hell this is but I hope you enjoyed?

Taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal l @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan @styl1shl1v @eddieharrington @hellowgoodbye

74 notes · View notes

softxsuki · 1 year

Note

💐Oh my! Someone's just confessed to you!! Who is this mysterious person and what do you say??💐

How Zoro Confesses

Pairing: Zoro x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Genre: Fluff

Post-Type: headcanons

Word Count: 710

Summary: In which Zoro "confesses" to you

[A/N: Is this an actual request? No, it isn't. Have I been craving to finally write for one piece? Yes, yes I have. So here it is. My official debut with my first writing for OP. AND I AM TAKING OP REQUESTS SO SEND THEM ALL MY WAY. At the moment I write for Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Shanks, and Law. As I continue to watch, I'l add more characters (if any stand out to me and inspire me to write) I'll update that on my 'who I write for' page linked on my navigation page. SO YES PLEASE SEND ME ALL YOUR OP REQUESTS I WANT TO WRITE FOR THEM MORE FREQUENTLY PLS. ]

Zoro:

Confession? Yeah you're not getting a direct confession from this guy--not happening

So how can you tell that this green-haired looker has a thing for you?

Lets just say his subtle acts over time definitely hint to it

It starts with small glances

His eyes seem to linger on you a little longer than necessary

When he walks into the kitchen for a meal with the crew, he finds himself looking for you first

Though he doesn't think much of it at first, and neither do you

You were close to Zoro as he was usually chill and you felt comfortable in his presence--though you couldn't deny the way your heart beat a little faster whenever he chose to sit next to you

Or the way you held your breath a little when he leaned slightly over you at the dining table to grab some food, his chest brushing against your face lightly

Zoro gets annoyed at himself when his ears get red whenever you playfully tease him

He hates the way his stomach knots up when he see's you too close to any of the guys on the crew, especially Sanji since he knows how bold the cook is with you

Whenever he says something you might find funny, he looks in your direction to see if he got a laugh out of you

These subtleties get a little more obvious and direct as even more time passes

When you arrive at a new island and the crew decide to split up to cover more ground, he volunteers to go with you, not giving curly-brows a chance to get his hands on you

He typically likes to be alone, but he can't help but enjoy your presence, so you find yourself having many naps with him on the Sunny

Your naps get cozier the more frequently they happen

They start with the two of you sat-up beside each other, and eventually his head or your head fall over onto the others shoulder

But eventually one of you uses the others lap as a pillow and sometimes Zoro can't help his curious fingers as they traverse the tresses of your hair, flinching away whenever you stir in your sleep

After a new months, you do everything together, from training, to washing dishes, napping, shopping, etc

It gets to the point where the crew always expect you to be together

So no, a verbal confession never does happen, you kinda naturally end up together

Perhaps Zoro gets fed up with Sanji one day and snatches you away from him with his ears flaring red and he yells profanities at the cook for always touching you and being close to you for no reason

Or it become obvious that you're a thing when you both glare at anyone who gets too close to the other for comfort

Yet you whenever you're close to each other it feels...right

Your hands brush each other as you walk side by side

Your thighs touch as you sit next to each other at dinner

God-forbid someone takes his self-proclaimed assigned seat beside you, he'd throw a fit

It isn't until one night at one of the many celebrations you all had that it becomes crystal clear how you both feel about each other

Zoro was drinking, like usual and was a little buzzed, but not completely drunk

He was watching you like usual as he drank, naturally protective of you and wanting to make sure no one took advantage of you

His heart beats a little faster as you approach him, a little buzzed yourself

You take the seat beside him and turn in his direction, but he's already looking at you

Your bodies seem to gravitate to one another and he can't help but close the remaining space between you as his lips crash onto yours

Without even thinking, your hands wrap around his neck and his own hands slither their way around your waist

He pulls aways flustered and flushed as usual, but downs another drink and you do that same as a small smile graces your lips

From that day forwards, kisses became more frequent between you whenever you were alone

But still, not a word was ever really said, it kinda just...happened :)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN :D

Posted: 6/13/2023

871 notes · View notes

lilhealthybean · 5 months

Text

I'll wait for your love

"Sweetheart, you know pretty well I am not joking”

Tags: haikyuu, suna

Notes: Mix of angst and fluff ig)?, hope you enjoy it :). I updated it and wrote it better, idk why I even published them before I revised them and changed everything lol (Not me posting random ideas I have at 2 am)

"I thought you wouldn't understand", you confessed

He smiled at you with a comprehensible look.

"How could I not even try?" Suna's response was calm, still gazing at you.

His tone was gentle and his handling of the third rejection of the month was surprisingly serene. You were amused by your ability to reject him three times. However, you didn't feel ready to start dating, not since your last relationship which ended in nothing but pain and traumas. Besides, you had a lot on your plate, and having a boyfriend wasn't a priority.

"I deeply apologize for putting you through this situation again..." the volleyball player apologized, gently stroking your hair. "I thought you might be ready for a new relationship, considering it has been three months since your last one. I guess I was mistaken"

Much to your relief, the school bell rang loudly, signalling that classes would begin in 5 minutes.

"I guess that's my cue to leave" Suna said, giving you another small smile

"Can we still return home together Rin?" you asked shyly, as if you were a kid seeking permision from an adult.

He chuckled softly

"How could I refuse you anything sweetheart? You will be at the library, right?" You nodded with a timid smile "Alright, I will pick you up there, I promise" With that, the boy left your classroom to meet the Miya twins in the corridor.

"And...?" the blond twin inquired, lookinf at his friend eagerly.

Rintaro shook his head and with a defeated look. Both twins gave him a sorrow glance.

"Are you going to walk home again with her?" Osamu asked as he finished his onigiri

"Yes"

Atsumu sighed

"I don't know how you do it Suna" the blond twin admitted "I would lose hope afther the first rejection"

"I don't mind waiting a little longer," Rintaro remarked indifferently.

As promised, after volleyball practice, he left the gym and walk to the library where you were studying. As every Friday, you were sitting by the window, trying to focus on the paper in front of you. Suna couldn't help but notice how cute you looked. Silently, he approached you and decided to take the seat in front of you, admiring you.

He lost track of time since he sat down. When you finally noticed his presence, you couldn't help but place a hand on your chest, holding back a scream.

"I've warned you to stop doing that! One day you will give me a heart attack" you complained while gathering your things with his help.

"Come on, hurry up or we will miss the train" Suna urged before you could keep complaining.

By the time both of you reached at the train station, the sunhad set and the cold began to invade into your body. Before you could start shivering, you felt the weight of Suna's jacket on your shoulders.

A sudden wave of guilt washed over you.

You felt guilty for making Suna wait so long for you. He had always been a gentleman since he met you, and all you could offer in return was a grateful smile. Why was it so hard to accept his feelings?

You wanted to be more than just friends with him, but you believed you didn't deserve him in your current state. Despite Suna's reassurances that you weren't a burden, you couldn't shake off that feeling.

Moreover, you had important matters coming up in your life next week, which was another reason why you couldn't reciprocate his feelings.

"Thanks for the jacket Rintaro. Maybe I can forgive you for being such a creep in the library" you teased, and he pretended to get offended by your remark.

"You seemed so focused that I didn't want to bother you, so I chose to admire you" Suna replied, gazing at you and moving closer. "Honestly, I can wait longer"

The train pulled into the station, and both of you boarded, searching for an empty space. You found one agasint the train wall, while Suna stood in front of you, acting as a barrier to protect your personal space.

"How long were you willing to wait?" you asked while you put your hands in the boy's jacket to keep them warm.

Suna drew nearer, his face close to yours, causing your cheeks to flush with heat.

"I'm patient… I could have waited until you felt the same way I do about you" he said softly, that didn't stop your heart from beating faster than usually

"Don't tease me like that!" if your cheeks were hot moments ago, now they were burning. You withdrew your hands from the pockets, attempting to conceal your intense blush from him.

Suna smiled, he loved knowing that he had that effect on you. It made him believe his love could truly be reciprocated.

"Sweetheart, you know pretty well I am not joking" he assured, gently taking one of your hands in his. You kept your gaze fixed on the train floor, feeling embarrassed.

Meanwhile, Suna was elated, having plucked up the courage to hold your hand. He knew it wasn't a grand romantic gesture, but that simple touch was enough for him.

"Rintaro..." your trembling voice brought him back to reality. Puzzled by your concered expression, he raised an eyebrow. "I have been accepted into the Tokyo art academy, starting next Monday"

His ears were buzzing. Did he hear correctly? Today was Friday, and you mentioned that next Monday you would be assisting another academy in Tokyo.

How could that possible? He gazed at the station they had just arrived at. He still had two stations to go before you got off the train.

"That's great. We should celebrate this weekend" Suna said with a monotonous voice, still processing the news you had just share with him

"Suna, you have a match tomorrow, and on Sunday, you need to study for the biology and math exam scheduled for Monday. Besides, you mentioned yesterday that Sunday is your sister's birthday" now it was you staring at him, meanwhile Suna had a distant look, holding your hand tighter than before.

The sound of the train announcing their arrival at the next station made Suna's heart race. He had one station left.

"Well, we can still stay in touch, right?" his voice losing his usual calming tone, a hint of desperation creeping in.

"Of course Suna, we can still text and call each other"

"I will keep waiting for you" Suna confessed, lifting his head and staring directly at you, holding his breath as he awaited for your response.

He felt the crowd startinf to push, implying that they were trying to exit the train. Suna had no stations left. You weretruly going to leave him.

"Rintaro... I don't want you to wait for me. It wouldn't be fair. I'm trully sorry; I got the acceptance letter last week. I had applied for next year, but they resquested me to go there to cover the basic subjects I missed here... I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't find the right moment..." you apologized softly. The boy in front of you didn't deserve this, and you were aware of that.

As the train slowed down, Suna was reclutant to realase your hand. He had received too much information in such a short time, leaving him paralyzed. With a gentle expression and a sweet smile, you let go of his hand and waved goodbye.

"Goodbye Rintaro, take care of yourself, please..."

His eyes followed you until the train started moving again, and he lost you among the crowd.

Due to the love he held for you, he was still determined to wait for you. Long-distance relationships can work, right? Besides, he was willing to visit you every free weekend he had. If both of you wanted, it could happen.

His heart urged him to wait for you. No matter how long it took, he believed the wait was worth it, since you are.

However, a noisy thought lingered in his mind. Even if he thought you were worth it, was it worth waiting for someone who didn't want to be waited for?

#haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyū!!#suna rintarou #suna x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyu angst #suna x you #suna x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu oneshot

89 notes · View notes

em1e · 1 year

Text

⠀ ⠀ ༝ i hate you for what you did, and i miss you like a little kid.

⠀ 一虎 // MOTION SICKNESS ⠀ ༝ ༝ kazutora hanemiya ⠀ ༝ ༝ 2.3k words ⠀ ⚠︎ angst + valhalla spoilers + IM SORRY ! ⠀ — he’s taller, now, hair bleached, but it’s still those same wide eyes that meet your own.

january 16, 2000

baji and kazutora were constants in your life.

being neighbors with baji left you trailing behind him like a puppy, and the idea of having someone as kind as you by his side made him happy - so despite his complaints and the bickering that always ensued between the two of you, he decided to keep you tucked away like a secret.

and when he introduces you to kazutora, it’s another warm friendship melting easily with the first.

and the three of you form an unbreakable bond, with the promise to always help each other when in need. kazutora would spend more time in your house than his own, and your parents take him in easily. it’s a taste of love he’s never felt, and when he lays on your bedroom floor next to a sleeping baji, he finds it hard to fall asleep with that feeling swelling deep in his chest and taking root under his heart.

august 22, 2003

it’s baji who comes to your door late one night. who else, when his other half is in juvie as he tells you.

you break into a sob at the news, and it’s baji who holds you with apologies falling off of his lips as if somehow he’s to blame for it all.

he holds you until you wear yourself out, and stays with you when you beg him to through tears. another promise it made there, to never leave one another behind, and it’s a promise you intend to hold kazutora to once he’s released.

baji rubs your back until you’re asleep, and he wonders if there was something he could’ve done to avoid this heartache; from seeing his friend carted away in handcuffs, from seeing you cry. he wishes he could go back, just for a moment, to change this outcome.

september 12, 2004

you wrote to kazutora when you could, but never received any replies. baji caught you once in the middle of you preparing a life update, snatching the paper from your desk and holding it above your head when you reached for it.

“give it back, baji!”

he stands on his toes to keep it out of your grasp, and chifuyu grumbles from your floor something about that not being the study sheet we’re working on.

“what’s this, a love letter?” he snorts, squinting to read the letters, “‘happy birthday kazu! baji and i miss you lots, even if he won’t say it outloud-’.”

you stomp on his foot and snatch the letter away when he slouches in pain, glaring at him, “you’re such a dick sometimes.”

“he never writes you back, i don’t know why you keep sending those.” baji huffed out, sitting on the floor beside chifuyu, “he probably doesn’t even get them.”

“what does it matter,” you roll your eyes, placing the paper in a folder and leaving it on your desk, exchanging it for the aforementioned study sheet, “s’not like it’s anything to do with you anyways.”

“it does,” he argues, despite the glare you send him, “my name is very clearly mentioned.”

“i just don’t want him to think we’ve forgotten about him or don’t care about him.” you say finally, and the way your gaze falls on him leaves him looking away with a small fine, whatever.

the tension that remains bleeds from the air and crawls under your skin, but chifuyu clears his throat and flips through the first few pages of the worksheet with a hum, “what the fuck is hydrolysis?” and that is enough to clear the air.

october 20, 2005

two years pass and not a single letter is returned.

some days you wonder if you should call the center, ask if maybe there was something wrong with what you’re putting in them as if that could be the reason he isn’t getting them, but the fear of knowing that not being the reason he won’t reply frightens you beyond belief. you want to ask the post office if there’s any way all one-hundred and six letters could have been lost in the mail or sent to the wrong place, but you’re all-too aware of the return address being labeled as your home.

instead, you settle with the unknown. there’s no getting hurt that way, no way of truly finding out if he was ignoring you for all of two years.

it’s not until you bump shoulders with a stranger outside of the market that you get to piece things together. you’d recognize that tiger tattoo from anywhere.

“‘tora?”

the bags you’re holding almost slip from your grasp, scrambling to free a hand to grab at his elbow and turn him around. he’s taller, now, hair bleached, but it’s still those same wide eyes that meet your own. you swallow dryly.

“when- when’d you get out?”

he tilts his head at you, earring chiming from the movement, “last week. thought baji would’ve told you.”

“me too . . .” you’re hurt by the admission, he can tell. you clear your throat, “the letters i sent - did you ever get them?”

“i did.”

the confession is enough to break what little resolve you have, frowning, “unable to reply, or . .?”

“didn’t see the need, “ he hums out, straightening with a smile when he looks behind you. a glance over your shoulder and you see baji, sharp toothed grin faltering when his eyes find you.

“what a nice reunion,” baji settles for when he finds himself standing beside kazutora, patting your head before wrapping an arm around kazutora’s shoulders, “should’ve planned a picnic or somethin’.”

you shove at baji’s shoulder half heartedly, “why didn't you tell me kazu was released, you asshole. and what happened to your knuckles?”

he jerks his hand from your grasp when you grab for it, ignoring the hurt you hold in the furrow of your brow at his reaction.

“huh? must’ve slipped my mind,” he pulls on kazutora’s shoulder, forcing him to turn, “anyways, we gotta go! have plans we just can’t miss.” he gives a wave as he walks away, kazutora in tow.

you come home that night to a message from baji. barely able to finish reading it through your tears, but you’re able to get the basic understanding.

kazutora and i decided we’re on different paths in life, so we’re cutting you out.

the promise to stay together breaks apart by the seams with each tear that falls down your cheeks. kazutora never replied to your letters, didn’t even bother to look for you after he got out, and baji’s being ripped from your grasp. it feels like every piece of yourself you’ve been holding onto for the past two years is being brutally torn away from you with each second that passes, and for the first time in your life, there is no one there to help you hold it all together.

november 3, 2005

you’d been planning his birthday for weeks before the actual date. despite the message he sent to you previously, you’d continued to prepare for something, even if he wouldn’t show up.

except, that’s not the reason he doesn’t come.

it’s chifuyu now, who distributes the bad news to you with a frown, and you want to tear down each decoration you’ve put around your home as if that’d undo the words that have left his lips.

and when you crumble to the floor, it’s chifuyu who comforts you in a way that’s all too familiar, but never the same as before. you’d never feel that comfort again, nor the warmth that'd surround baji like a fire. you have to pry the details out of him, beg for anything he’s willing to give. how did it happen. was it painless. did he suffer. did he cry. who started it.

he answers to the best of his ability through his own tears, explaining kazutora stabbed him first but baji delivered the final blow to himself, and those words leave you folding in on yourself even more.

“kazutora’s in jail now for that, will be for ten years.”

it’s like each new addition to the story is you taking punch after punch, and chifuyu is glad that little bit of information is last on his list - unsure if you can take anymore hits. you’re practically gasping for air by the end of it, and with some effort, chifuyu is forcing you to sit up, forcing you to take a second and just breathe.

he only goes home when the reality of it all has settled, leaving you hollow sitting on your bed. on numb legs, you stand and walk to your desk, ripping out a page from your notebook to hastily write.

i hate you, kazutora. i want you and baji back and i hate you for taking him away from me. i hate you and i miss you and you’re the worst

the words blur together, ink bleeding into blobs as your tears fall onto the paper. you crumble up the page and throw it across the room with a sniff, unable to believe what you’ve written.

july 05, 2015

your brows furrow at the sound of knocking on your door. chifuyu told you he’d be an hour late to your hangout, stuck organizing a shipment that came early he’d told you over the phone, but the sound of knocking again proves he’s a liar.

“you don’t have to knock if i know you’re coming-” you start as you pull the door open, only to stop when it’s not chifuyu behind it.

kazutora stares at you, and it’s still those same wide eyes as he takes you in. there’s no blonde left in his hair, you note dully, and he’s gotten taller. you’re practically frozen in place by his appearance on your doorstep.

“hi.” he breathes out finally, offering a bouquet you hadn’t even realized he was holding, and his lip quivers when you hesitate to take it.

you clear your throat, “when . . . when did you get out?” you look down at the flowers to avoid looking at him and god he could break down right here. the smell of your home comes off in waves, clawing at the deepest parts of him and settling with the reminder of childhood. he wants to bottle it up, breathe it in for the rest of his life to keep those memories forever.

“few days ago. ‘fuyu picked me up.”

you pull your lip between your teeth, a nasty habit he remembers when you were young, before you’re taking a step back so he can enter your home. he does so slowly, as if any sudden movement could startle you away from him. he’s almost certain it would.

“was waiting on him,” you mumble out, finally looking at him, “‘fuyu.” you’re unsure why you clarify, but he nods nonetheless.

“he told me.”

silence fills the air again, neither of you wanting to break what fragility remains on your shoulders, until kazutora moves to dig through the bag he’s brought with him. you eye him warily, still very unsure of what to make of it all, when he pulls out a folder filled with stacks of papers.

he offers it to you, and you take it with less hesitation than before, trading it with him for the bouquet so you can open it properly.

august 30, 2003

dear kazutora,

kazutora watches as your eyes widen while they dance across the paper, immediately beginning to flip through each of the worn pages as if the rest of the stack could be fake, before you meet his gaze.

“are these . . ?”

“i kept them all.” he explains softly, trying so so hard to read your expression.

and when you throw yourself into his arms, almost crushing the flowers between the two of you, he’s stunned.

he holds you when your knees buckle, and carefully eases the two of you to the ground. holds you when your tears stain his shirt, and holds you even tighter as apologies fall from his lips. for baji, for not caring enough, for not righting his wrong when he should’ve. for not writing you back.

as he breathes you in, he realizes how familiar this feels, how familiar you are, and suddenly he’s back to being a stupid thirteen year old with an even stupider adoration for you. he’s scared he’s squeezing you too tight, but you’re holding him like he’s your last lifeline and it takes all of him not to do the same.

“i don't want to be like baji and not tell you how much i missed you.” he whispers, and it has a small laugh leaving your lips. a sound he hasn’t heard in so fucking long, it’s all he want to hear for as long as he’s alive.

“i forgive you,” you say softly, when the tears finally subside and your grip on one another lessens enough for you to be able to lean away and look at him, “forgive you for baji and not caring and not writing me back.”

the remission is enough to have him fighting back his own tears, and when you brush a strand of hair from his face to cup his cheek softly, it breaks what little resolve he has left. then it’s you taking him back into your arms, holding him as gently as you can as the assurances pass your lips as something so sweet and soft and everything he has ever missed in the last twelve years sits cradled in his arms.

there’s something so sickly sweet about it all that has chifuyu wishing he would’ve been a little more precarious while putting everything away at the shop - regrettably ruining the moment when he stumbles into your house with beers and yakisoba.

#kazutora x reader #hanemiya kazutora x reader #kazutora hanemiya x reader #kazutora hanemiya #kazutora #hanemiya kazutora #hanemiya x reader #x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #salmon rowe

404 notes · View notes