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buttercupblu · 2 months

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God is Fair|The Lore

Devotional Love with Suguru x Reader|Two-Shot

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3

the deets: ever since you were young, you knew you were meant for each other. he came into your life like a storm and grew closer no matter how distant you seemed. he swelled and captured your heart every time he was near. so why did you keep fighting him? w.c: 12.7k (holy f*ck) out of idk yet for part-two the rest (god bless) tags: fem!reader, mostly angsty….pretty much 90% angst for part 1, repressed feelings, jealousy, lingering lips and fingers, a little bit of self-depreciation at the end but pick that crown up love, reader gets a little violent at the end 😳|if i missed anything, pls comment or DM ☺️ angel’s note: this story started as one thing and ended up as another—so goes the way of life. PSA: most of the good, filthy, mack-nasty shyt is in part 2/3, but you’ve gotta wade through the fire first to get it. It’s always worth it|thanks for reading 🖤 earworm 🐛: Chihiro|Billie Eilish

Over time, you became perfectly molded to him.

As did his lips to your tender bud that sank under his sinful tongue.

Slender fingers grip and drown under his raven locks, barely saving you from the shallow breaths you must take to stay alive.

You’re just above water, and he steals your air, spelling poetry with his tongue over your folding petals.

Broken coos spill from your puffy lips—his favorite melody to ever grace his ears.

Whether it was today, tomorrow, yesterday, or forever—you fall—in and in and even deeper into his grasp. Under the waves and trapped in his ocean—he gently pulls you under—your lungs yearning for air, but you never want out.

And the way he dives in, drowning to taste every drop, every sweet, delectable sip of your nectar like he could live the rest of his life without oxygen—tells you that he doesn’t either.

You learned to love each other’s oceans and came to mix seas. Both treaded rough waters but learned to float with calm bodies.

Now you lie hand in hand, limbs weaved like vines through each other’s arms, as you cuddle. Completely spent from another night in each other’s depths. Grateful. Grateful for his love—his patience.

And wondering how on Earth you thought it’d be possible to exist without someone you swore you despised.

Suguru has always been the best—the best at being good, the best at being kind, the best at being quiet—the best at being better than you.

When you were eight years old, he made his quiet introduction into your quaint little neighborhood, arriving in a flashy Mercedes-Benz followed by two moving trucks that pulled right into the driveway directly across the street from your humble home. Heels painted with red bottoms adorning stocking-covered legs were the first things you saw as you watched from your bedroom window.

The sound of movers drew your attention. No one ever came to your city, let alone your cul-de-sac. You felt a shift. A change was coming.

A tall woman, her long, sleek ponytail blowing in the wind, stepped out of the driver’s seat wearing large couture shades that took up most of her face. The overhanging forecast made everything bleak and gray, but the sunglasses stayed. A man exited the passenger seat and came to the woman’s side. He gingerly took her hand and looked around with a small smile, gently rubbing her arm. She slightly grimaced and handed him what looked like one of those small, overpriced designer bags.

They looked so…out of place.

They had to smell like money.

What the heck were they doing here?

In a city like yours, one of those places where everyone knows everyone and everybody's business, you instantly knew that this couple would be the talk of the town. At least with the adults.

You blew air into your bangs. You weren’t expecting new neighbors, but they could have at least come with a kid—someone who might actually want you around.

“Hey, Bug,” your dad called from the garden.

He always left the back door open so he could hear you in case you needed him. He must have heard the rumbling of their heavy trucks now being unloaded with elegant furniture. Would all of that even fit in there? Their house was bigger than yours but not by much. “Sounds like we’ve got new neighbors. Might go by later and say hi if you want to come.”

“No thanks.”

You turned back to the window, resting your head on your arms. Meeting Mr. and Mrs. Richy Rich didn't sound very appealing to you and might only make you feel worse on this already gloomy Spring day.

For once, you wanted to be pleasantly surprised and not just surprised with something you wouldn’t expect, like hitting the jackpot or whatever.

And then you saw him.

Inky black hair drawn into a short ponytail, emerging from the back seat of the fancy car and clutching a book thicker than his torso. His starched white-collar shirt and beige shorts reminded you of school. He kept his chin tucked and looked like the wind just might knock him over if the book wasn’t keeping him upright.

He and the woman were near twins. Definitely mother and son. She smoothed her hands down her skirt and put on a genuine smile for him. The man draped his arm around the boy’s shoulders as he took in the neighborhood. Slow and sheepish. You thought his eyes caught yours when he looked behind him and you ducked under the window sill.

Sh—

“You can’t stay cooped up in here all the time, Bug,” your dad called again. It sounded like he might be wrapping up. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

You inched back up to the window and peered over the edge. The boy looked like he was just as lost as to why he was there.

Anxious. Reserved. Kind of boring.

Not your speed.

You blew a raspberry and turned away. So much for that. You wouldn’t be missing much.

In your neighborhood, all the kids walked freely to each other’s houses to see if anyone was home. This was before everyone had cell phones to save time and figure it out for them.

You watched it happen with the other kids all the time. They’d visit each other and either stay inside (super rare) or gather the rest of the neighborhood to play in the cul-de-sac or park.

But you were never quite given a direct invitation.

The few friends you were close with moved away about a year ago, and the thought of making new ones who would eventually do the same kept you emotionally at arm's length. To make it worse, you swore the group you were left with undoubtedly hated you.

Why?

Because you had a history of sucking.

Everyone else in the neighborhood was naturally good at something. Anything. Everything.

But you?

You had to try.

Mess up. And try again. At almost anything you could name.

Basketball? Trash.

Tag? You were slow.

Football? Pssssh. As if—like you’d let yourself get hurt? You sat out every time.

So, the kids stopped inviting you or always picked you last. Both were grimy slaps in the face. Because you always knew you could be better. Delulu was the solulu if they’d only give you a chance. Or two. Or a few. But damn, you were trying.

At least you weren’t the only one being left out.

It’d been weeks since you saw the new kid on the block—not like you thought about him much after you dismissed him. But slowly, as the sounds of Spring beckoned him outside, he reminded you that the new “rich” neighbors did indeed have a kid.

It started with the curtains in his living room window gently ruffling before he’d peek out, scanning the scene for signs of life. Then eventually upgraded to gracing the neighborhood with his presence to sit outside. For hours, he watched from his front porch as the neighborhood kids dashed past your houses to play in the cul-de-sac.

It kind of made you jealous—the amount of space and freedom on their porch that his parents clearly weren’t taking advantage of. Only two plastic chairs and a small table occupied the space, and they weren’t nearly as lovely as the things you saw go into the home on move-in day. If it were up to you, you’d string up one of those hammocks big enough for two like you’d seen on TV and just float in the breeze under the overhang. It had been a frequent daydream of yours long before they moved in.

Instead, a gawking boy with too much time on his hands made it his home. Watching. Fiddling with his fingers and leaning on the rail. Watching. Always seeming too afraid to approach.

He had what you thought was the best house in the neighborhood (and probably the most money), and still, he looked so lonely.

With the background he seemed to come from, you thought he’d be more ballsy.

One day, you were, and you walked right up there, took the hand of the wide-eyed kid, and led him to the rest of the kids down at the park. His dad watched the whole thing go down from the kitchen window as he did the dishes, silently laughing as the boy stumbled behind you without saying a word.

This was your chance. You were so tired of the other kids being better than you. With him being the new kid, you thought he’d at least be somewhat on your level or maybe even a bit worse. Anything was better than being the odd one out.

You and the boy just a few inches shorter than you crashed the party right before the next game started. You beamed at the group like you had caught a prized fish.

“Guys, this is um…um…” Then you realize you hadn’t asked his name. And he was still holding your hand.

You dropped it and nudged him. “Suguru,” he said softly, seeming to avoid eye contact.

Suguru hadn’t seen that many kids in a group like this outside of school. He didn’t mean to look so anxious, but he wasn’t used to being in a neighborhood full of kids his age. He instantly felt like an outsider seeing how comfortable everyone was with each other, apart from you by his side. While soft smiles offered him a glimmer of acceptance, the stares made him self-conscious. He wondered if he could ever fit in.

You repeated his name in case no one heard him. Suguru. It naturally rolled off your tongue. Soft and sweet. Like the boy. He fidgeted with his fingers, but hearing his name felt reassuring. You looked at him and grinned. It was time to see what he’s got.

Tee-ball was the game. One you hated the most. Running was not your sport, and you certainly didn’t have an arm, so it never hurt your feelings too much when you weren’t picked for teams. But you made sure Suguru was. You wanted to see him in action.

Last summer, you guys found an old traffic cone to use as the tee and placed sticks around the field for bases.

You didn’t expect much from Suguru when it was time to bat because…look at him. He was so small and timid. The bat borrowed from someone’s dad was almost the same size as him, and you swore you saw his feet lift a few times during his practice swings. Too much of that and he’d be airborne. You prepared to give him a “job well done” pat on the back once he hit the ball a few feet.

Suguru squared up at the tee—on his way to join you at the bottom of the barrel.

And wouldn’t you know it?

He knocked the ball clear out of the park and didn’t even skim the cone.

Your mouth fell open before you remembered you were the designated retriever since you weren’t playing the game. You grumbled the whole walk and search for it.

And then he did it again. And again. And again.

And surprise, surprise, he excelled at every game he played after. Everyone wanted Suguru on their team.

You gaped at the feat—so much power, strength, and coordination in such an unassuming body.

And instantly hated him.

Not because he was the best or braggy about it.

It was the complete opposite.

He barely seemed to acknowledge it—not in an arrogant, dismissive way, but more like he was just happy to be involved and doing something. He was sheepish with compliments and even seemed nervous to receive them. He’d rub his head and give a little close-eyed smile before returning to the game.

And peer over to you on the sidelines for approval.

Every swing, every hit, and every game after, his purple eyes would find yours whenever he thought he’d done something worthwhile.

You tried to hide the jealous scowl, returning his shy smile with a nod and told him to keep his head in the game.

But he noticed.

He saw it. He knew you were unhappy, and he wanted nothing more than to help.

So after that, you kind of mirrored each other.

The kids always saw you as a try-hard—constantly on repeat, trying to make yourself valid and stand out. You’d grab failure by the throat and wring its neck, determined to make it forget your name. Not because you were attention-seeking; you only wanted to be counted in.

And so the student became the teacher. Suguru began to slip you little nods as if saying he saw you—just like you saw him all those times on his front porch. It’d annoy you at first, what you thought could’ve been pity, but it felt nice to finally be acknowledged by someone.

And so gradually, you looked to him as a spectator, earning silent yeses and nos until you finally worked up the courage to do what you were afraid of most. Ask him to be a friend.

To help you perfect your skills, of course.

But the friendship blossomed like the Spring, and you and Suguru actually grew really close—instantly drawn to each other. Pop-ups to his house were the norm as you had the most advantage out of everyone in the neighborhood by living right across from him. And you both were always brought up by one another’s parents.

Turns out Suguru’s dad was a lot like yours and they got on really well. They’re both funny, kind. But your dad’s a little bit different. He’s got rebellion in his bones, as he often talked about when he told you stories about his youth and take-no-shit hippie days.

“I’m serious, Bug. So, there we were, strapped to the tree. Shackled, really.”

He mimicked the story with his arms in between laughs.

“So, so we’re all chained up, right? And this bulldozer is coming right at our heads, ya? I look over to Stanley,” your even crazier God-father who showered you with gifts every time he visited, “I say, ‘Stanley, toughen up. You look like you’re about to piss yourself.’ And he goes, ‘I’m not scared. I forgot to go before we locked ourselves in.’”

Your dad roared with laughter, wiping the tears from his eyes like he hadn’t told that story a million times. Like he was going around trying to collect little activists. But Suguru almost fell over, leaning into his every word. He was such a shy laugher, always creasing his eyes and dimpling his cheeks when he did. It made your dad feel like the funniest guy alive when Suguru entertained his jokes.

“You were so brave,” and Suguru called your dad by his nickname just like your dad told him to. “I want to be that brave when I’m older.”

Your dad winked at you—you stuck out your tongue. Suguru was a good kid, he thought and reminded him a bit of himself.

Those days, your dad was mostly the same. He didn’t need much and chose to live a quaint and peaceful life. He’d talk your ear off about activism, travel, and stories about your mom who passed when you were born. You never got to “meet” her, but you always felt like you knew exactly who she was. And she was totally different from Suguru’s mom, who you learned was a hard-working corporate baddie. Red bottom heels. Makes sense.

By the end of that first summer, your families were practically joined at the hip. You and Suguru even more so. Outside of house calls and playing games with the rest of the neighborhood, the two of you also made frequent trips to the makeshift pier. Almost everything in your neighborhood and the surrounding area was walkable, including a small, wobbly, probably dangerous dock that sat over the small lake in town. You’d play a little alphabet game you made up on the walk down and constantly challenge him. Only for him to literally beat you at your own game nine times out of ten.

“Angels shop at—” You skipped down the dirt path.

“Blessed boutiques,” Suguru finished, “Beautiful coats—”

“Can clothe their wings. Dashing dolls—”

“Eat every sweet. Forks will find—”

“Giant…giant,” you thought and thought and thought, “Giant—”

“Geese!”’ Suguru tagged you and ran down the dock, deeming you the loser of that round. You strolled down to meet him near the water reflecting the sunset. A pout took up your face. He patted the deck, motioning for you to sit. “You’re gonna miss the fireflies.”

Watching them pop up one by one and glow on the water as the sun went down became a ritual. And one of your favorite memories of summer.

The following school year, you were even more inseparable. And when the end of fifth grade rolled around the year after, you knew it was fate when you found out you’d be attending the same middle school.

You were overjoyed. So was Suguru, but for different reasons. To you, now it was on.

Academics was an area where you had a fair shot at flourishing. You were studious, attentive, and almost the perfect student. And while you didn’t have bad grades, you always felt like you could be better. And you know why. Because everything came naturally to Suguru, of course.

Thank goodness for extracurriculars, though. The two of you didn’t need to do everything together, and you both benefited from the time and separation to do your own thing and discover your own interests. The Newspaper club caught your eye and was more interesting than you thought it would be—the first hobby to make you fall in love with words.

Suguru took an interest in robotics and, surprisingly, Yearbook. He was pretty crafty with a camera and made sure to snap the best photos of you during your events.

But the two of you rarely spoke of school or after-school activities. You never wanted him to know if you were struggling or needed help with anything and tried not to rely on him so much those days, so everything with you was always good.

It had to be.

He was still the competition, after all.

And you had to appear just as flawless.

Instead, you enjoyed late-night phone calls that went way past both of your bedtimes as you grew into middle schoolers. Pretending to be asleep and slipping the phone under your pillow without moving a muscle when your parents checked in was a sport, but it couldn’t be helped. The books you were reading, shows you were watching, and thoughts on what high school would be like were too good not to talk about into the late-night hours—even when your eyelids got too tired to stay open. Falling asleep with your cellphones in hand or occupying a space on your pillows was the norm.

“What’d ya think about the movie?”

“I mean, the book is always better, right? But like,” you sighed happily into the phone, “they made their lives look so…amazing.”

The two of you watched The Great Gatsby 1979 version on DVD at Suguru’s house right after school that day before you had to scurry off to help your dad in the garden. Suguru finished the book a few days ago, and after catching him with it during lunch and poking him enough to get him to spill some of the details, you were sold.

A glamorous romance about a life of luxury and passion?

Say less.

And because you couldn’t resist, you told him you’d finish it in less time than he did.

Suguru thought the movie was pretty true to the book, but man, what a sad story. You, however, were in love with the lifestyle.

“What about Daisy?” he asked.

You pondered Daisy’s decision for half a second before deciding she was a one-off. All her life she had been spoiled, something you were a total stranger to but didn’t make a point to say—only dismissed her frivolous ways and called her a coward. “Just the money and parties would be enough for me,” you said in a daydream. “It’d be too happy to be that shallow.”

Suguru laughed and said that wasn’t the point of the book. “Money can't always buy happiness. She could’ve had love. It was right there.” He sounded so sophisticated when he said it, much too wise and sappy for a 13-year-old.

You sucked your teeth. “That’s easy for you to say.” And you reminded him that he has a nicer house, clothes, car. “And when are y’all getting the Benz back?”

Lately, you and Suguru had been getting picked up by his dad in a major downgrade of a car. It’d been at least two months, and you were missing the feel of luxury against your skin.

The phone went quiet for a second, and Suguru scratched his head. “Uh, we actually don’t have it anymore.”

Your eyes widened as if he'd just told you someone died. Borderline devastation set in like it was your family losing one of its greatest displays of wealth. But Suguru didn’t sound the least bit sad when he told you that his dad referred to the “new car” as a “cash car” because they needed something quick.

And then it clicked, and you realized why you’d been noticing that furniture and things had also been disappearing in his house when you came over. And why he had to switch to the free lunch program you were also on at school. And why his dad mentioned looking for a second job the other day.

Suguru’s family had been hit by the recession.

And that’s how he became your neighbor.

Most of everything Suguru grew up with in his previous family home was placed in storage when they first moved into your neighborhood. His mom thought their stay would be temporary; she had been demoted at work but didn’t think it was a big deal, and things would quickly be back to normal—maybe even come with a promotion if she worked hard enough.

But it wasn’t her skills that was the problem. The economy was in shambles, and her company was running out of money. After two years of hoping for a miracle, she and over 40% of her company were laid off.

They kept all of this from Suguru until only a few weeks ago. He was much too young to understand what it all meant when it first happened—he was just a kid. But now, he was older, smarter, way less naïve. They couldn’t keep lying to him about why the car was away at the shop or why the family heirloom dining table went missing, among other things.

When they told him that he’d have to slow down on his growing book collection and only get one gift for his birthday that year, that’s when he started asking questions—not that either of those things meant much to him. He was more than happy to frequent the school library, and you noticed that he’d been spending a lot more time there than usual during breaks.

What bothered Suguru the most was the looks his parents gave him when they told him everything. Like they were delivering the worst news in the world. Like they were so worried that they’d be disappointing him. Like they should be ashamed.

It hurt him more to know that they felt like they had failed him.

“My dad just looks so tired all of the time now.”

Mr. Geto, who had been a stay-at-home work-from-home employee since before Suguru was born, had to get a part-time job working overnight to help bridge the widening gap between their old and new lifestyle.

Now, Suguru doesn’t get to see him as much except to make breakfast and kiss Suguru goodbye with a sluggish smile on his face before school.

He really missed his dad. And it made you feel like shit for momentarily being a Daisy.

For the rest of the night, you just listened to Suguru tell stories about back home—what his parents were like, the things they used to do, the trips they would take, and the time they spent together. Little memories from a place you’ve never been but could clearly see as he talked through the night.

Never once did Suguru mention missing the things he used to have or wanted now. The people in his life were what he cared about most.

“My dad got a new antenna for the TV to surprise my mom with so she can still watch her favorite channels from back home,” he laughed. “It’s so big. I hadn’t seen one before, so it was kinda funny to look at, but I’m glad it’ll make her happy.”

You solemnly smiled and propped up on your arm. “Do you ever miss home? Like being back there?”

He mentioned that he thought about it sometimes: the plush green grass in his front and backyard that he’d lay in for hours, the much sunnier skies compared to the frequently gray and cloudy ones, and humid air here in your rainy city, the few friends and family members he had to leave behind.

But he liked it here better and surprised the hell out of you by saying so.

Anywhere was better than being here.

Even though his family was going through a hard time, they still managed to get the nicest house in the neighborhood. You could only imagine what his childhood home looked like compared to the one bedroom and living room your dad made into his own space.

You asked why. What could possibly make this place any better than where he came from?

You could hear him shrug through the phone as he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars.

“I don’t know,” he said. “It’s just something about this place.”

You still think about that conversation sometimes.

The end of middle school came in a blaze, and so did puberty.

Suddenly, you became aware that it was time to start caring about what you looked like.

Some nights, you would call it early with Suguru in favor of spending hours on YouTube watching videos and learning how to wear makeup. You put more thought into how you dressed and tried your best to style the little clothes you had into mostly decent outfits.

Every morning, you’d beam when you entered the kitchen to grab breakfast and say goodbye to your dad. He’d try his best not to cry, watching his little Bug grow up before his eyes.

Suguru did some growing, too.

The summer of 7th grade, he got a little taller, and when your final year started, you guys were finally neck and neck. He was beginning to be able to see the top of your head when he lifted his chin, and he would make little jokes about it in his prepubescent boy voice that was starting to crack. You’d push the too-big glasses that he got at the start of middle school up the bridge of his nose and tell him not to get too cocky. This was the tallest he would get, you’d tease. He may have been good at everything, but he’d always be a pip-squeak.

When you weren’t going back and forth with Suguru, you were hanging out with the new gal pals you made at school. Your little trio started spending more time together, window shopping at the mall, attending football games after school, and talking each other’s ears off about anything in between throughout your last year. You couldn’t tell Suguru everything, of course—there are some things that guys will simply never be able to relate to or understand.

And one day, while the three of you sat at lunch together while Suguru was off with his robotics team, one of your gals leaned over the cafeteria table to poke you with a devious smile and ask the age-old question: who do you like in school?

Your brain had the audacity to picture Suguru first.

Your friends squealed watching your face blush beet red, but you turned away and never answered the question—only said that you were more focused on school and extracurriculars to help you in college more than anything else.

But where the hell did that come from?

Suguru was, debatably, your best friend, but that was it.

Not that you needed to convince anyone else of that. Just…yourself?

Before that day, you never really thought of Suguru in that light. He was this quiet, nerdy, prodigy of a boy who was great at everything and gave you another reason to want to be just as good. You secretly looked up to him, if you wanted to call it that, but you certainly didn’t like him.

He was just the boy next door.

The boy next door who was challenging you once again: to push the little hints of affection that had been blossoming aside and dismiss them.

Bury them down, keep your eyes on the prize, and finally be rewarded for your efforts.

To keep up with him, not fall in love with him.

On a rare sunny Saturday, a month and a half before school let out for the summer, the two of you sat on his beloved front porch with the future on your minds.

Suguru picked at the grass growing between the wooden boards. “Thinking about trying something new next year?”

You popped another sugary blackberry from your backyard into your mouth while stretched out on Suguru’s favorite quilt. He couldn’t help but notice how relaxed you looked, drinking up the warm sunbeams on your skin.

“I don’t know,” your arms folded behind your head as you stared at the ceiling, “I love Newspaper, but…I don’t know. I think I wanna branch out.”

You just weren’t sure how yet. You had done some research on the high school you’d both be attending next year and ran down the list looking for something to jump out at you. Something you could really put yourself into. You still loved writing and expressing yourself, but there was nothing else besides repeating Newspaper or trying Yearbook (Sugu’s territory). The rest of your options weren’t ideal, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“How about volleyball?”

“Nah.”

“Art club?”

“Mmm-mm.”

He leaned against the wooden railing. “Hmmm, choir?”

You laughed and didn’t even bother to respond to what was clearly a joke.

He sighed and pensively licked the sugar from his fingers before asking if maybe you’d want to do something together.

You looked at him and squinted. “What?” he shrugged.

“You know what.” And he shook his head all innocent-like.

Always innocent that Suguru. Effortlessly wrapping everyone around his finger. Your dad, his teachers. Even your trio mentioned him from time to time about how helpful he was. With all the times he went out of his way to make sure you were okay, even you were starting to let your guard down. Watching him now as his ponytail blew softly in the wind, looking so naïve as to what you meant but still wanting to understand, made you blush sick.

Not having much of a reason to actually be so guarded, you made one up. “You tryna go toe to toe with me, Geto?.”

Your brow cocked, and you used his last name because you knew it’d get to him. He was fully aware that you only say it when you’re serious, and it’s mostly blurted when you guys go at it on Mario Kart.

“Just because I said we should do something together?”

“Yeah, so you can one-up me.”

If there was a hobby or favorite pastime that you really enjoyed and might actually be better than good at, you knew it was best to keep it out of Suguru’s reach. Academic and recreational competitions needed to remain separate if you wanted to keep your sanity.

Suguru took a breath. If there was one thing he didn’t bother competing with you at, it was arguing. He knew you wouldn't back down if he just sat here and tried to convince you; you’d poke a hole in every counter until he simply gave up.

So, instead, he pandered to your inflated ego, chewing his lip before telling the truth. “C’mon, Twin. I promise I won’t. Do it for me.”

His soft purple gaze landed on you, and you got a funny feeling in your stomach that you hadn’t felt before.

He was serious.

He really wanted to be at your side trying something new—exploring together—helping each other find yourselves.

The shy teen who was as quiet as a mouse and yet a beast of a kid wanted to be right there with you. And he wasn’t afraid to say it.

You cleared your throat and averted his gaze. “Fine,” you agreed, but on one condition, “It stays a hobby, no competing.” And it sounded like you were talking to yourself more than him. “But valedictorian? That’s mine.” And you tossed another blackberry into the air and caught it perfectly in your mouth, making Suguru raise his eyebrows.

“That’s a bet,” he said, reaching over to wipe a bit of sugar from the corner of your lips. You swat away his hand and punch his shoulder, but damn him if the gesture didn’t make you feel all weird inside. He faked an “Ow” and rubbed his arm before joining you on the quilt to soak in the sun. You closed your eyes and pretended to float in the breeze whistling through the railing. Even without the hammock, it kind of felt like you were.

“Sooo, what do you wanna do this summer?” And the possibilities felt endless.

Who knew this core memory of each other’s youth, the moment you finally let his fingers inch across the blanket and softly brush yours without pulling back, would be one of your last?

Two weeks before break started, after all of your plans for the summer and the following school year had been planned out, it happened.

To this day, you question the timing of your worst nightmare—just when you thought you were living the dream—coming true.

The Geto’s were moving on up.

For years, Suguru watched his mom grind in corporate America. It wasn’t new to him; she had one of the hardest work ethics he’d ever seen, but it was on a different level after his family moved to your city.

Something in her had changed—the thought of instability.

She knew Suguru was used to not seeing her due to long hours at work, but when it started to affect her husband, when it began to shift the family’s dynamic, she knew she had to figure something out, and fast.

She could sacrifice her time for the family. She couldn’t sacrifice Suguru’s time with his dad.

All these years, Suguru’s family pulled themselves up by their bootstraps while Suguru was lost in the bliss of friendship. Mrs. Geto’s hard work paid off, and she got a promotion—on the opposite end of the country.

The day was bright and sunny when he left, the exact opposite of how you felt watching the beat-up car that had grown on you drive out of the neighborhood.

You looked on from your window because you didn’t want him to see you crying, watching, or caring.

You had been right from the first time you saw him.

And were back to square one.

Alone.

You guys tried to stay in touch, you really did, but being in totally different time zones made keeping up with each other a little harder. New apps for your phones, like Snapchat and Instagram, helped a little, but they didn't compare to the late-night phone calls you missed so much.

At first, Suguru would Snap you about how he was getting on in his new city, neighborhood, and places his family would explore over the summer.

The thought of him being someone’s new boy-next-door made your stomach twist.

When school rolled around, he’d send Snaps and joke about his preppy new uniform that came with a vibrant red tie and over-starched navy pants. His mom got him into a fancy private school because, of course she would, but they were really strict with phones, so you weren't able to talk to him until he got home. By the time he did, the sun had already gone down for you, and you’d be too tired from your own after-school activities to keep your eyes open.

You missed Suguru—even your dad missed him and his family terribly.

You missed him so much that you began to resent him—his new life, fancy school, and new “friends”. Jealousy reared its ugly head, forcing you to put your walls up again.

Another friend, gone, moved on to bigger and better things. Leaving you behind once again.

You had finally found a friend, a real friend, who never made you feel bad—someone you could tell almost all of your secrets to.

Who got whisked away.

Who you’d give anything to see again and go back to the way things were.

Though it’d only been five years, you felt like you’d known him your entire life.

But what you thought was fate, turned out to be folly.

It wasn’t fair.

Sometimes I fall But still, I rise To the skies high above In the clouds my ego Will go where no one knows

Why I am here

And why I try

To defy what I believe What it means to succeed To be won

To be one

To be “the one”

A smoking gun.

“Thank you.”

The cafe filled with snapping fingers as you walked off the stage, heart pounding and a smile plastered on your ducking head.

Look at you now. Performing in cafes, libraries, open-mics, wherever you could be that called for an audience. Still a little shy, but letting it motivate you and pour out on the floor to be soaked up by the listeners. It was an adrenaline rush, finally finding something you knew belonged to you and being damned good at it.

No one was better than you at telling the world how you felt while simultaneously mesmerizing an audience with your soliloquy and speech. Words still had a hold on you; you just figured it was better to say them out loud than keep them written down.

“Good job, Bug.” Your dad handed you a hot cup of tea fresh from the counter with your nickname scribbled in big cursive letters across the cup.

“Dad, please stop calling me that.”

He frowned. “But you’re my little bug.” He threw an arm around you, almost making you spill the hot liquid.

You groaned and protested. “I’m not a kid anymore.” And took a sip too soon, burning the tip of your tongue. You held it in and swallowed, looking around to see if anyone else saw the scorned look on your face.

You thought of 15 as one of your prime years and kept yourself busy to prove it. Just a sophomore in high school, Baby had a new hobby: dominating slam poetry. You had taken over the scene in your city with expansion heavy on your mind.

Though it was hard for your dad to hear, you were right; you weren’t a kid anymore. But you knew he was just proud of you. More than you could ever know. It made him happy to see you had something no one could take from you.

With a tsk, you leaned into his hug. You should be thanking him more. When the idea of doing slam poetry first crossed your mind, you were a hot mess (surprise, surprise) at being confident (BIG surprise)—your stage presence was lacking, to be specific.

On the page, your poems were like water in a desert, but opening your mouth and performing it with your whole chest was…different.

Fixating on your lines and rhythm made you want to pull your hair out. It was hard making sure your words sounded like you and would be understood. You needed to be understood.

You’d practice your performances in front of your dad until you were blue in the face. A show was put on for anyone who would listen. And secretly, you missed Suguru’s presence because he’d be perfect for it.

But you didn’t need him. You were on your way to competing in your first official local competition. All your practice around the city and long hours at home agonizing over your talent for slam poetry built up to that moment—the time to show the world what you had to offer.

Nothing felt better than holding the gold 1st place medallion between your fingers afterward. Regionals came next, and nothing could have validated your talent more than the medals you took home on top of the prize money your dad stashed away for college.

It was time to travel, and Nationals was your next target.

You couldn’t describe the feeling of finally being outside your city. The thought of being beyond the walls of home once felt like a hopeless dream. New cities, new friends, new organizations, and new styles of poetry were within your reach. The exhilarating travel that worried your dad put a thrill in your heart. You wanted to see everything—be heard everywhere. Life was full of opportunity and everything it had to offer.

“So you’re gonna do the group piece and then an individual one, maybe?”

You leaned against the cool bus window as you and your teammates winded down the road to your next hotel. Over the summer, you traveled with your state’s top slam poetry organization to compete in regional cities around the coast. All of this was practice for the Nationals coming up that August before school started. The day was coming faster than you could imagine.

“I don’t know about a solo,” you wondered.

You looked out the window and chewed your bottom lip. Your team lead had been pushing you to do a stand-alone piece for the Nationals for weeks, but you felt far from ready. You were strong in a group, but on your own, looking out into a crowd of people while demanding their attention on an empty stage, the thought made you queasy.

This wasn’t your local library or a small regional contest. Nationals is where you tell the country who you are and why you matter.

“Hey,” a hand rested on your shoulder, calling you back. “You’ve got this. You deserve this.”

And you did deserve it. You’d worked too hard and advanced so far in such a short amount of time. You didn’t think you’d get here so fast, but here you were, on a double-decker bus full of others who were just as talented as you, in a place where you belonged. In a place where you didn’t have to try so hard or look for that slight nod of approval to let you know you were seen.

August was in a hurry to put you on the stage because, before you knew it, it was time to head to California for the Nationals. What better place to begin to live your dreams than in the place where they all come true? Sunny skies, sandy beaches, and the aura of art and performance lingered in the air. It was the complete opposite of where you came from. It felt like home. You could see how Suguru could get easily lost in all.

You always wanted to visit the West Coast and see how he was living.

It’d be so funny to randomly Snap him after all this time and tell him you were so close, but you decided against it.

Cali was HUGE; there’s no way the competition would just happen to be in his city for you to casually bump into him.

Plus, imagine that awkward reunion after a few years of radio silence.

You two could be completely different people now.

He probably wouldn’t even want to see you.

Maybe you didn’t want to see him.

So many great things happened since his family packed up and left. In fact, without Suguru around, you found yourself excelling more naturally at anything and everything than ever before. Comparisons were a thing of the past, and you knew you had something no one else could take away from you.

Except maybe the competitor going on before you at the Nationals.

The audience was loud and clearly approving of his killer performance as they ate him up with whistles and snapping fingers.

Who needed a mic when you had a voice like that?

Easily projecting across the entire venue with every rhythmic pop, beat, and enunciation of his words.

You might have met your match or worse.

For the first time in your poetic career, you thought you just might lose your winning streak.

Anxiety convinced you to head back to the holding area. You just needed to run through the lines of your solo only a few more times.

You’ve got this.

He was nothing.

This was nothing.

You were taking home first place—absolutely positive that success was literally on the tip of your tongue. Until you saw him.

The boy with the raven hair.

Unmistakable and stopping you dead in your tracks as you saw him in the flesh for the first time in 2 years, standing long and tall in the venue.

Not in the audience.

Not as a stagehand.

But in another team’s holding room.

As a competitor.

Your heart plummeted into your ass.

What in the fuck was he doing here???

You swiftly ducked behind the wall leading to your team’s holding area, hand flying to your chest to still the thunderous beating.

Deep breaths, deep breaths. DEEP B R E A T H S.

Suddenly, your mouth was desert dry.

The entire summer, you prepared yourself to keep from slipping up—how you would suppress the urge to call him, think about him, or wonder where he would be when you were here.

You covered all of the bases.

But here he was in a place you least expected.

In a place you now knew you’d dread seeing him the most.

The boy you had become a ghost to was haunting you, but somehow, you knew this would happen.

You only got a quick glance at him before you vanished, but it was enough of a glimpse to notice the chances.

And God, were there changes.

As teenagers do, you both had grown out of your prepubescent bodies and into your young adult ones. And while you thought you looked relatively the same with a few upgrades here and there, Suguru had gone through a full-blown glow-up that set yours on fire.

“Almost ready?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin. Your teammate followed your line of sight and smirked. “Know him?”

You shrugged a bit too nonchalantly and said you thought he looked familiar but didn’t. “Shame,” she rested her shoulder on the wall with a dreamy gaze. “He looks like a dream.”

You turned away before you threw up and realized that you were about to be called up next. The frazzled look on your team lead’s face let you know she’d been looking for you, and you took a synced deep breath when she spotted you. Her hands fell on your shoulders before you went up the stairs to the stage. “You’ve got this.”

I’ve got this. . . . You don’t got this.

Your legs felt like Jell-O walking up the short set of stairs to the black platform in the middle of the stage. You hadn’t been on one this big, in a venue so large, with an audience so vast and eyes in the hundreds. The row of judges sat below you, yet looked so intimidating. Heat engulfed you from the lights above—a literal deer playing the lion in the headlights.

Sight zeroed in on the judges, you avoided the audience. Hoping that he wasn't still there because you knew seeing him WOULD freak you out.

In the silence Between the shattered and oppressed dreams I found, I tore The roar Of my own voice Reclaiming the night

Your lines flowed out of you more naturally than water, eyes closed, unfocused, or hazy as you transformed your surroundings into the scene of your story—the journey from struggle to empowerment—the story of why you deserved to be here. In that moment, there was no one else—not even the judges—just you, the stage, and the song that belonged to you, even if it mattered to no one else.

But it mattered to him.

And you didn’t see him until near the end of your set.

The familiarity of your voice called him to confirm it for himself. To make sure it was you. He couldn’t believe it. You looked so…powerful. Fully fledged in your adulthood, kicking ass and taking names. Fierce and poetic. The same attitude as the girl he grew up with but in its full realization.

Your voice cracked a little when you spotted him, completely awe-struck by you, but you played it off like it was part of your set. Damn the boy who had the same gawking eyes that used to watch the neighborhood kids—quiet and longing. You hoped it wasn’t obvious, but Suguru noticed. He knew. He still had some kind of effect on you. He could tell by how quickly you looked away. You still felt a way about him. He wasn’t just a nobody to you. But given the circumstances, he didn’t know whether to love or hate it by the time he took the stage.

The mic fit snuggly between his fingers. It was rare that someone fully approached it without starting their piece first. You wondered where he was going with this, why he looked a bit tense, why he kept his gaze low—if it could be because of you.

You held your breath and crossed your fingers. Once again, it was time to see him in action under the sweltering stage lights. And in seconds, you saw your gold medal fleeting.

You expected nothing less.

His voice was lined with melody—a sweet, ethereal flow and a melodious string of vocabulary that wrapped you in an envelope and swaddled you like a baby. He sounded so mature. He sounded so much better…than you.

The nerdy boy with too-big glasses and cracking voice had been replaced by a young man who towarded over the audience with a long side-bang and gauges in his ears. The red tie around his neck did look absolutely ridiculous like he said, but the rest of his navy blue uniform was tailored to perfection and fit like a glove.

He looked and sounded like where he came from. Money. But he was more than that. You found yourself hanging onto his every word as you watched from out of sight. He couldn’t see that he made your heart thump, but it was begging to fall out of your chest by the second.

This wasn’t about slam poetry anymore.

Suguru had entered your arena.

Shy, reserved, and knocking the ball out of the park.

Out of over 200 solo acts, you came in 6th. Suguru came in 5th.

And you couldn’t even feel good about it. Because you knew what this meant.

Regionals took over the remainder of your sophomore academic year, but when summer rolled back around, it was time to look Suguru in the face again at almost every out-of-state competition. The West Coast was once a dream—now you dreaded touring the area because you knew he would be there.

Performing.

Waiting to chew you up and spit you out.

Over the final two years of high school, you both spent most of your free time hopping around the nation and directly squaring off with each other.

Growing more apart as you did.

Silent hatred brewed and led the way every time you saw him—unmistakably written on your face.

He chalked it up to the fact that the two of you had changed over the years, and maybe you’d simply outgrown him. But he never thought someone he used to call his best friend could give him a look so cold. With no other choice but to follow your lead, he kept his distance and pretended you weren’t there.

But the way he racked up medal after medal, winning over judges and audiences alike, was loud and clear.

With him, you could only hope for second best. Though out-of-state competitions were just practice, losing to him in any capacity was a constant reminder that what was yours, wasn’t anymore.

If it ever was.

This time, anxiety burned through you instead of helping you.

During junior year, one of the most pivotal moments of your poetic careers, you met face-to-face again at the Nationals. Both of your organizations fought their way to the semifinals, but as you held your breath waiting for the judges to call his team’s name, silence swept both of you when you realized that neither of you made it to the finals.

Again.

By that summer, you were tired, good and tired of inching closer and closer to third place, then second, but never first in out-of-state competitions where Suguru was in the mix.

He was sucking the life out of you, but you couldn’t show it, especially when on stage where you knew he’d have his eyes glued to you.

Then, in August of your senior year, it finally happened; you returned to the Nationals, your final opportunity to win and go international. This time, it was close to your territory, in Georgia.

All bets were off.

The winner was a toss-up.

And what a slap in the face to finally win….and tie with Suguru.

You sulked on the inside the whole ride home while your teammates cheered and celebrated around you. To them, you’d just made history with your organization being the first in your state to go to the continental competition and have a shot at the World Poetry Slam Championship.

To you, your freedom of expression kept escaping you.

You felt yourself starting to mold into something outside of yourself.

Some nights, you lied in bed, unable to sleep hearing Suguru’s rhythmic beats rack through your brain.

Analyzing them.

Judging them.

Mimicking them.

Wanting to be like the best.

Your foundation was shaking.

At least you didn’t have to worry about the continental competition. Winning wasn’t the point; only earning one of the top 10 high scores to be automatically qualified for the WPSC.

It was a dream come true.

But how come it tasted so sour when you stood on that stage, your teammates going absolutely insane in the crowd at the news of you advancing to the international championship, but once again with a score just shy of Suguru’s?

The two of you were declared the best in your country…and you were sulking.

It shouldn’t matter!

You're one of the top 40 poets in the WORLD, babe!

And, for Godsake, a free plane ticket and trip to leave the country was waiting for you with your name on it! Belgian waffles and fountains of chocolate are more than enough reasons to get over yourself and this one-sided beef.

But your dad still got an earful about it.

Weekly chats with him almost always centered around poetry and Suguru ever since you first saw him sophomore year.

The closer the world championship came, the sadder you sounded.

“What if I-”

Your dad stopped you. “Don’t even finish that sentence. What have I always said?”

You hugged the phone to your ear, rolling your suitcase back and forth between your legs in the airport terminal. “Bug,” your dad said after a moment’s silence.

You groaned. “We don’t say ‘what-ifs’. We say ‘what is’.”

“And what’s going to happen.”

You looked over to your team lead, soundly napping in the corner. It was the butt crack of dawn, and both of you had gotten to the airport way too early for your liking to make sure you didn’t miss your flight. Your first international flight. You actually had a passport, like???

So much had gone into getting you here.

Energy. Time. Effort. Trust. Encouragement.

People were rooting for you. They wanted to see you win. You wanted to see you win.

“I’m gonna do my best.”

“Then you’re already a winner, Bug.”

God, your dad was gushy. And God, you loved him for it.

You didn’t feel so bad by the time you watched the sunrise in full bloom through your airplane window.

Pink, orange, and yellow washed over your face, making you feel so small. It wasn’t your first time in the sky, but definitely the most nervous you’d been.

Local papers, blogs, and newsletters featured your name—people knew you now; they had expectations.

A reputation had been made, and now you were in the fight of your life to keep it.

You sighed into your palm with your dad’s words in mind.

David was determined to take Goliath down.

Belgium.was.cold.

Like you hadn’t packed nearly thick enough coats type of cold.

You felt like an idiot.

You were a lyrical genius but couldn’t even put ‘Belgium in December’ and ‘it might be freezing’ together. But the lobby of your quaint little hotel with hot chocolate on tap was warm and inviting.

Your team lead handed you a cup, and you found yourself missing your teammates. They would have loved this and cheering you on at the top of their lungs.

The feeling was lonely—nerve-wracking.

You were in the beautiful country of Germany for a competition, not leisure, so you couldn’t even relish in the fact that you were overseas.

At least the food was good. Nervous eating made you binge until you felt sick the night before the competition, but a quick stroll in the brisk morning air made you feel better.

The bus ride to the venue felt like you were about to hop into a boxing ring. And the gloves were off.

Crossing the threshold into a space full of chosen people was like marveling at the diamonds of top-society. And you were one of them. Your team lead walked by and closed your gaping mouth with a smile. “Chin up, dear.” And disappeared into the crowd.

You'd never met a foreigner before and were thrust into a venue full of different skin tones, accents, languages, and ages. It would’ve been even more overwhelming had it not been for the smell of coffee wafting through the air, reminding you of your last safe space for poetry before you went pro. With half an hour left until the competition, you thought exploring a little wouldn’t be a bad idea.

The venue was dark and moody, perfect for setting the atmosphere and circulating the rising tension in your body. The main stage basked against the background of darkness under a single warm light that cast a circular glow.

Your final destination.

His burial sight.

Suguru was nowhere to be found, but by the looks of the thick crowd shuffling in to fill their seats, it was easy to get lost. You met back with your team lead to run your rhythms a few more times.

“Please don’t say it.” And she laughs, giving you a small nod and shoulder squeeze.

You still hear it in your head. You’ve got this.

But man, were these poets giving you a run for your money.

It was exhilarating and terrifying—a glaring reminder of why you were here among the best.

Translations were available on the screens behind the performers as you ping-ponged between their words and their expressions. Both demanded your attention and the crowd’s.

But so did you and Suguru when you both breezed through the semifinals.

For a second, you thought he hadn’t made it to the venue at all when you looked for him during your performance. But he let you and everyone else know he was in the building when he graced that stage. A hush fell over the space, and even you felt your face go soft while watching him.

He more than deserved that advance, but you weren’t done just yet.

After a brief intermission—the DJ wasn’t playing any games—you turned the corner to line up for the final round when you collided at 100mph with Suguru.

“Fu— oh.” You held your arm as you looked at him—really taking him in.

When he was on stage, you noticed he wasn’t in his usual uniform, but up close, the alternative was definitely a choice. The loose black tee ruffled as he smoothed his bang.

“Sorry.”

He rubbed his shoulder and kept his eyes low. His hands stuffed into his black cargos as he looked away, not wanting to upset you. Or see the look of resentment on your face.

You could tell he knew he made you uncomfortable, but you didn’t know how different he wished things could have been.

Hurt was written all over the face of your childhood best friend, and you never knew Suguru to be upset about anything.

You cleared your throat. “Good luck.”

His head drew back like he’d seen a ghost.

His lips parted.

Then he kind of smiled, leaning against the wall—looking at you for a moment.

You were so grown up and had accomplished so much.

Suguru was fully aware that you hated his guts and was so proud of you—even if you didn’t need him anymore.

He reached out to shake your hand. “Good luck, Twin.”

Your heart thumped—no one had called you that in 4 years—sweet and low from honeyed lips.

Suguru’s hand lingered in your air for a second before you gingerly took it.

Soft and warm.

Just like you remembered but stronger—firmer.

The gloves were off for him, too.

Things were done a bit differently for the final rounds. Instead of holding deliberations for the end of the rounds after everyone had gone, everyone got their votes front and center from five random audience members.

Paddles would fly in the air, displaying the scores to be tallied up and held until the end.

Thank God you could do quick math. Numbers were racking up—bone-chilling talent was on full display.

You were amazed, laughing, shocked. Every set was different from the last.

The crowd fell into a hush when one guy came on stage and laid straight down. Bareback to ground. Then fired off rhythmic jokes that made you laugh at some and ponder the seriousness of others.

Dark humor often has truth in it.

Most sets were in a completely different language yet spoken so beautifully that you dug your nails into your palms to keep from crying. Emotion was universal. And you were feeling a lot of them.

Suguru walking onto the stage snapped you out of it as you watched from the other side of it.

Though you’d just seen him a few minutes ago, this was a completely different light. Something had shifted.

Nice to meet you My name is Suguru Oh really? So is mine! It’s nice to meet you too.

Tell me what you’re like, what do you like to do? Lately, I’m not sure Was hoping for a breakthrough

In a world where masks are sticky and glue I’m lost in a maze with no clear view Doubt will cling like morning dew Caught in the storm of shifting hues

If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought Suguru was having a mental breakdown.

Your jaw tightened, clothes fidgeting between your fingers.

It was the most unexpected thing you could’ve imagined. And this was just the beginning of the journey through his paradoxical mind.

His ship was sinking. And he was taking you all down with him.

…I wear many faces each one feels new, But none will fit like I want it to Left with a voice that's small and untrue Burying deep I don't know what to do

In this mirror, I’m searching for clues, But this reflection is oddly askew. You scream through the glass, “Stay real and stay true!” But if you’re me, then…who are you?

You could hear a pin drop.

Suguru stopped breathing.

He couldn’t believe that he actually did it. He had never been so vulnerable.

If you thought you knew him and what he was going through before, you were left stunned and corrected.

A few of his scores floated into the air, and though you couldn’t see them all, the few you did were perfect 10s.

It would’ve been hell to go directly after that—thankfully, you had a few more people before you.

Time crept closer and closer to your set—nervous sweats and fidgeting fingers kept you company.

So much for keeping a hobby a hobby, you thought, pacing backstage.

This wasn’t fun for you anymore; it was always supposed to be fun, easy, natural.

But this was no longer just about you.

It never was.

It was about proving anyone who ever doubted wrong.

When the host called your name, you made those 3 minutes on stage feel like your last.

Rain, rain don’t go away, You’re the only one who stays, Cross my heart and hope to die I promise that I will not cry

Build and build and There it goes! All for naught and just for show Hypnotize your guards to grave Leave the trust to fade away

This was your final plea to be heard by the world if you had ever made one.

A letter to those who ever dismissed, ignored, or left you.

Fire and brimstone poured from the pit of your soul—served up on a plate with the audience in mind but Suguru as the guest of honor.

You thought he’d be away in the dressing room or at least within earshot, but no. He stood tall and bright, leaning against the door frame that led out to the hall, backlit by the warm lights that framed his figure, watching.

Listening.

Knowing the poem was partially about him.

You hoped it hurt him as much to hear it as it did for you to write it.

Deep breaths kept your voice steady—he wouldn’t hear it crack this time as you powered through your trembles. Bold and brash. Unleashing your truth.

He saw it in your eyes and unconsciously did the only thing he knew to support you, the beginning of your connection—trust that blossomed into turmoil. The small nod of approval.

Years had passed.

Envy had pushed you to avoid him.

He accepted that you no longer saw him as a friend.

Yet he still wanted to show his support.

And it pissed you off.

…Lo and behold the savior's light Here to take another flight Take me by my desperate hand Lead me how you only can Fragile like a gentle rose I will follow where you go.

Shadows whisper of the known What I am. I am alone...

You walked off stage before you could see your final scores.

Whatever would be was now out of your hands—the relief felt agonizingly sweet.

Your team lead wrapped you in her arms as you silently cried. You didn’t know how long the tears had been building up, but the release was like a dam burst.

Crying on your first international trip to Belgium.

Nice.

A final intermission was left, and the scores were tallied. You guzzled down some water and took a few breaths before meeting the rest of the contestants. Finally, finally, you and Suguru stood side by side again on stage. Your entire history had built up to this moment—ready to declare a winner. Ready to determine whether you finally caught up.

His pinky brushed yours, sending sparks to your belly like that day on his porch.

Head down, you waited for a name to be called.

Any name, every name, would be better than—

“Suguru Geto.”

Naturally rolling off their tongue.

Suguru stiffened beside you like he couldn’t believe it himself as they motioned for him to come forward. In your mind, everything went quiet. You couldn’t feel anything but emptiness in the pit of your stomach. Not even anger.

Before he moved a muscle to claim the spotlight, he turned to you, daring to offer his hand again. But it felt less like a “Job well done!” and more like a pitiful “I’m sorry.” And you had had enough of condolences.

You turned away and left the stage in the midst of the raging applause for Suguru. No one else may have caught the cold shoulder, but to Suguru, it felt like he was trapped in ice. He could leave your life forever now for all you cared.

This was your one, final chance to make things even between you two.

But reality was a bitch.

You couldn’t get away from him quick enough.

Yes, you’ve gotten to travel the country. Yes, you got the opportunity of a lifetime to go overseas just off your hard work alone, but all of that meant nothing if you were only second best.

It was redundant.

What was even the point in trying? You would never be good enough to stand on your own. Always under his shadow, drowning in his wake.

It wasn’t.fucking.fair.

You brushed past your team lead, contestants—anyone trying to tell you how amazing you did. You couldn’t stand being bathed in lies and beelined out the back of the venue.

“Fuck this.” You choked back tears, breath escaping you as you pushed the door open.

The contrast of sharp, cold air whipped your face, making you realize you didn’t grab your jacket, but it was just what you needed to set the gravity of your situation in.

You were nothing.

You bawled your fists.

And foolish for trying.

Hyperventilating.

Look at what you came from. Look at what you get for trying to change that.

Hot, fat tears spilled down your face as you huddled in a corner of the building. You wrapped your arms around your knees, trying to shield the icy winds, but you already felt dead inside. Pathetic and worthless. It was out of your hands to change that.

A voice called after you, belonging to the last person you wanted to see right now. That soft, angelic voice that swooned the world and made your insides boil. Why couldn’t he just get it?? Why couldn’t he stay the fuck away??

You thought you had hidden yourself well by putting a bit of distance between the exit and the corner you tucked into, but he found you in seconds, tears dried on your face, crouching into your knees.

He stood there gaping, completely overwhelmed by the state of you.

For once, he was out of words.

“Well??” It was hoarse and cracking.

“I-I’m—”

“Oh my God, pLEASE fucking save it!” You shook, burying your head into your arms.

It was enough that he got to bask in your pathetic breakdown with front-row seats. He didn’t need to pretend he didn’t enjoy it.

But Suguru was fed up with your bullshit and came looking to tell you about it. The final straw was leaving his extension of sympathy high and dry as you walked off stage. Giving him the ultimate “fuck you” in his moment of congratulations.

He never understood why you hated him—the resentment, what happened, what he’d done. But he was about to make you explain yourself.

“Get up.” Gentleness left his voice.

He came closer and towered over your petite frame, cornering you so you couldn’t run away. “You think I don’t know how much this meant to you?”

When you didn’t answer, he crouched down to your level.

“Hey.”

You buried yourself deeper.

“Hey.”

“Don’t touch me.” You brushed him away, pressing your back into the wall as you stood up, shivering in the wind.

But it felt like you had punched him in the gut.

He had never seen you so bothered before, and the revelation that you were pointing the finger and naming him the culprit made his chest feel tight. It felt worse attempting to bury your heart on your sleeve. But the extent of your scorn was on full display.

After a moment of looking your bitterness in the face, it finally clicked for Suguru.

Why you hated him. Couldn't stand to look at him. Avoided him.

Why you started all of this competitive bullshit in the first place.

The root of it was more painfully obvious to see than the daggers in your eyes. What else could it be?

“You’re jealous.”

And that set you off.

“HA!” It almost hurt to laugh. “Jealous?!”

People could probably hear you inside the venue. But Suguru knew just what to say to get you to talk.

“This whole time, I thought you were upset because I left, but…you’re just jealous.”

You snorted. “You’ve never worked hard a day in your life.”

“What? You don’t think I earned this?”

“Who knows? Mommy buys you everything.”

“Woah,” he held up a hand and laughed, “Is that what this is about?”

Your cheeks burned hot, but you had egg on your face and had just spilled the beans. But fire still raged in your chest.

“You could have had anything else. Anything! Anything in the world, but you just had to take this from me!”

“How was I supposed to know??” he cut you off, “You stopped talking to me.”

You felt a pang and fell silent—flurries of unread texts, unopened Snaps, and missed calls played in both of your minds.

“How was I supposed to know anything? How was I supposed to have anything without making you feel bad?”

“Me?” You scoffed. “Without me, you’d probably still be sitting on that dusty ass porch (you loved that porch), watching everyone go and fucking live life.”

“I was like 7.”

“9.” You rubbed the blooming goosebumps on your arms.

“Whatever, you think I owe you or something? You want a ‘thank you’?”

His tone made you shift, but you puffed up your chest.

“No, I don’t need a thank you." Your eyes narrowed. “I’m just not that impressed.”

Oh?

He scoffed, backing away with a smirk, arms swinging as he looked away then back at you. “You’re full of it.”

“You’re not that talented.”

He cocked his head, raising a brow. You were questioning his talent—clearly emotional and spewing lies—but it was a shot at his reputation nonetheless.

His smirk faltered as he clasped his hands. “You wanna go?” And then he got closer. Your breath caught as he studied your face, his left arm shooting out to frame you, pinning you into the corner.

The heat radiating off his body should have been a comfort in the frosty air, but fuck, you also felt other things that raced your heart and made you hate yourself.

He leaned over you. “How would you like to eat your words? Fried? Or sautéed?”

His eyes bore into yours, daring you to buck up or back down. But just because he finally had the balls to challenge you and take up space didn't mean you were intimidated.

He was the same little boy he'd always been.

And you were quick to remind him.

“Bite me, Get—”

Instead, he kissed, capturing your lips in a way that shot electricity down your spine and stole the breath and shriek right out of your body.

In an instant, you swore your pupils morphed into hearts. For so long, he's wanted to do that—kiss your sweet, supple lips that ramble nonsense and shut you up—bridge the gap between your broken friendship to ask for more, to make all your fire, resistance, and anger melt away...so you could come back to him.

Knees weak, you nearly staggered, scrambling for the walls to keep you up, but was saved by his hand cradling your hip to hold you. Keep you. Protect you. Your heart burst.

You pulled away, eyes heavy. Leaving a sliver of space between your lips to see your heated breaths mingling in the chilly air as he rested his forehead against yours. Softly, you cradled his face in your hand, feeling waves of longing swell through your body—his had already burst. Then you slapped him.

“How’s that for poetry?” And left.

extended angel's note: this story took a TOTALLY different turn from what i originally planned (thanks Mac Miller) but omg it's sO much better and kinda fits into all of the sugu angst i have planned (oh how i love to hurt myself so). this story in particular was supposed to be like all smut and no exposition but um…things happen 😅 sO, all of the low-angst, ‘enemies’ to lovers lives in part 1, with a focus on the resolution in part 2: lovers who give in and chose each other arc while remaining focused on my original goal of making a smut that spotlights and actualizes realistic sex. learning each other, listening, patiently growing, and choosing.

#bluuharem #God is Fair #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk poc reader #jjk x y/n #jjk imagines #suguru x you #suguru x y/n #suguru smut #jjk smut #suguru geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #anime fanfic

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evilminji · 1 year

Text

You know what? I just had A Thought(tm)~☆

Danny. Our bby boy. MINDING HIS BUSINESS. Maybe visiting one of his buddies in the Realms after he graduates. When he just?? Get full on tackled from the sky.

And like?

Huh.

THIS hasn't happened in a bit. Not since he's become king. Legit, no one dares. He's honestly kinda missed it. Alright, square up... Mr. Uuuuuh.... Who are you?

And it's this barely formed New Ghost. Still in that glitch-y goopy blob phase and everything. Is Baby. Why... why does this infant Want To Fight God? I mean. He Respects It(tm), no lie, but? Not exactly usual for him?

And it turns out? This dude is some rando hero. He basicly JUST died. By all rights SHOULD be resting and gathering his strength to Form Right. But he's so worried for his team mates and everyone else he CAN'T. Recognized a fellow Hero's Costume even at a distance.

Please. PLEASE! You have to help him! We have to WARN everybody!

And Danny is just? Oh no. This Actual Infant Baby is gonna Anxiety himself to Actual Second Death at this rate. Yes! Sure! Just CALM DOWN! Anything you need buddy! BREATHE.

And this dude? Who died? Is legit a minor player who got WAY too deep but refused to abandoned People In Need(tm). It happens. It HURTS. But he saved a LOT of lives before he went down. Him and his team were just some Minor Heros from Belarus. How they ended up in deep space? Even THEY couldn't tell you.

They couldn't even bring him home.

He forgives them.

He could NEVER blame his friends. Not for this. The planet is in danger. Some... some THING. An invasion. The League has to be made aware. He DIED helping a planet try to evacuate all that they could. He... at least he...

He can't remember if the Eggs got out. They... they're like babies. A whole room full of toddlers who couldn't run. They had to de-connect from the main building to lift it out. He can't... can't...

He saved them... right? Held on.. long enough? Why can't he.. he...

Danny has to make him focus be for the kid spirals. Don't think of your last moments. Purpose. You NEED to do something right now, right?

Right! The League! We gotta warn them! And... okay. Danny can totally do that. (What LEAGUE??!) He DEFINITELY knows who you are talking about and will tell them Right Away. YOU however are gonna rest up.

So he leaves the kiddo with Lunch Lady. Mother and Frightening Matriarch Extraordinaire. Lunch Box promises to SIT on him if he tries to sneak off. Good kid. Now eat your soup before you BECOME soup.

Time to bully the eyeballs. Whoms't the F*ck is this "league"? And where does he find it? Talk. He has sand and he's not afraid to use it. Don't MAKE him get out the pepper grinder! Yeah. That's what he THOUGHT.

After much, prolonged and unnecessary, whining and dramatic threatening... he gets a printed out map. Cheapskates even used flimsy paper. He gets there. Jaunt is even kinda nice. He says hi to a few folks he hasn't seen in a while.

Opens a portal.

Steps out.

Gets punched in the face. RUDE! He punches the flying blue man back. Dents their wall. Not even a LITTLE sorry about that now! See if HE does you a favor aga-... is that his Ex? John?

John! Constantine you B@STARD. YOU OWE ME 20 BUCKS. *Ten different hands slap a twenty on the table at his feet, including Constantine. Who is refusing to look at anybody.* Well, okay then. Debt payed. Gonna buy himself a shake or something, after this.

ANYWAY~ Good News Or Bad News?

He is met with silence. It's like they've never seen an ethereal, giant, glowing man with a suit that looks like a cut out of the night sky, step out of an eye searing rip in reality before. Man they're lives must be boring. But frankly? Danny can wait. It's not HIS reality that's gonna get messed up. He can take care of it if the wanna be Wah Babies. Good News or Bad News??? Pick one.

He sits back in the air and waits.

@stealingyourbones @cyrwrites

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #Message From Beyond AU #danny totally showed up mid-meeting #yes superman is mildly concussed #to be fair though #Kryptonians get the spookies around ghosts Super Easy #he panicked OKAY #Constantine gets around #this is actually the most amicable Ex hes run into in a while #wanna hook up in a closet?#john no they say #john YES he informs them

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henry7931 · 29 days

Text

Got Your Body B*tch!

Drew:

This is Marco, he’s a raging asshole (for a lack of better words). I’ve known him all of my life, down to when we were young kids. And he’s always been a huge pain.

Marco, is the type of guy who’s cocky, always gets what he wants, comes from really nice rich parents, and incredibly insensitive.

He’s been that way forever.

I thought I was done with him when I left to go to college. That was until I walked in to my college apartment and saw Marco unpacking bags.

“Drewphus! I didn’t know you’re my roomie. You’re going to have to leave the apartment when bring a girl over, okay? Oh also, no touching my shit. I don’t want you get poverty all over it.”

If looks could kill in a moment, I swear Marco would be dead on the ground right now.

“I’m kidding…. Well, kinda. So here is your space, I hope you don’t mind but i already called the bigger bedroom since i was here first.”

“That’s fine Marco,” I say biting my tongue.

“Great, well have fun unpacking whatever you got in those two suit cases. I’m gonna have some private Marco time if you know what I mean”

Marco makes a jerking off hand gesture, I just roll my eyes and head into my new room.

A few hours past after I unpack and settle in, I order a pizza for dinner and lay back in bed.

All I can think about is how I’m about to have to live in the same quarters as Marco. The same guy I cant stand to be around.

Ugh…

So just like I always do when I get this stressed— it’s time to jerk off. (Something I’m sure Marco has already done 12 times today)

I checked my phone to see how much time I have until the pizza arrives, one hour. Great!

I pull off my shorts and open up my laptop. I feel a little embarrassed to admit this but I the kind of porn I like isn’t for everyone. I have a foot fetish. And not just that I this thing for jock athletes and their feet. I hate how much it turns me on especially since it’s guys like Marco that really get me going.

I start scrolling through and see this really hot jock with big feet. I click on his page. His username says AlphaAlex, he’s tan, dirty brown curly hair, six pack, big muscles…

I start mentally picturing him with me in the room, fantasizing him taking off his sneakers and dirty gym socks in front of me.

He says to me, “Hey Drew, do you mind rubbing my feet? I’ve had a really long practice and they are killing me.”

He puts them on my lag and says, “sorry if they stink!”

He lets me rub them and I ask him if I can smell them…

He says, “Sure, you can do whatever you want with them. After you’re done with my big jock feet, do you mind massaging my cock next?”

I stare deeply into AlphaAlex’s massive bulge on the screen. Almost about to nut…

“BRO!!! WHAT THE F*CK DREWFUS! I KNEW YOU WERE A HOMO BUT YOU’RE A FOOT FREAK TOO?”

Cum squirts onto my chest just as I turn to see Marco standing at my door with his cellphone recording in hand.

“MARCO!!! ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?”

“Bro, wait until I show this to everyone! Now everybody going to know you’re a foot freak!!”

“MARCO PLEASE NOOO!!!”

I hop out of bed and Marco turns around and I chase him butt naked through our apartment.

He screams, “Stop chasing me foot freak!!!”

Marco shuts the door and I feel my stomach turn. I beg him to delete the video but he doesn’t respond.

As I go back to my room, I cry into my pillow… I feel so mortified.

I lay back, wiping my tears and say, “If someone could hear me, I wish I can get revenge on Marco. No I want more! I want everything Marco has…”

I cry myself to sleep, nervous for what the next day had in store for me.

The next morning, I wake up feeling kinda off. It takes me a second but I realize that somehow I’m not in my room!

In a panic, I rush to get out of bed until I come across a mirror.

That’s when I see Marco’s reflection looking back at me!!!

“Holy shit!!”

I feel a moment of fear hit me… but then I remember my wish last night. Someone out there listened to me.

I look at Marco’s face and then down at his body. Hes a dick but…. He is hot…

I pull off Marco’s shorts he slept in and his 10 inch hard morning wood comes flopping out.

“Holy fuck…”

I grasp it in Marco’s hand, which I guess is my hand now?

Nervous, yet kinda excited, I wasn’t sure what to do.

I looked down at the throbbed cock in my new new hands and immediately start jerking off.

I hop back into Marco’s bed and bring his foot up to his face. He actually has some sexy feet!

I start licking his foot from heal to toe. I relish in knowing the fact that he would go insane if he saw me with his body right now.

I keep tugging away at his cock and this maybe the best jerk off session in my life.

I twist Marco’s nipple and let out a soft moan.

“Fuckkk Marco your nipples are sooo sensitive,” I say aloud.

Hearing his voice sends me into a frenzy, just the thought that I can say anything, do anything as him. I have complete control of this dickhole!

I stand up out of bed and dash to the mirror, I grin at his reflection and jerk his cock even faster.

“Drew, it feels soo good, keep jerking my cock Drew. My body belongs to you now, my big feet, my sensitive nipples, my sexy abs… FUCKKKK THIS IS SOOO HOTTTT!!!”

I nearly screaming by this point and I feel every muscle in Marco’s body tighten.

I’m tugging so fast now and then cum sprays all over the place.

I fall back onto Marco’s bed covered in his nut. I look at his covered hand and lick it clean.

I lay back and gently rub his fingers back and forth on his stomach up to his chest.

Then reality started to sink….

Wait, if I’m Marco… what happened to my body?

“AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

I hear a distant familiar scream coming from the background.

“Oh shit…”

Heavy footsteps coming charging my direction and before I can even get up the door slams open.

Out of the door is my body…

My eyes get big, I don’t think I’ve ever been that angry. My face is blood red and he starts to charge at me.

“Hold up!” I say hopping on top of the bed.

“DREW YOU PIECE OF SHIT IM GOING TO END YOU!!”

He balls up a fist and starts to pull back. Before he can reach me I grab the balled fist.

I guess Marco’s body has quicker reflex’s.

I pull him in and toss him on the bed. I pin him down and say, “I’m a lot stronger than you now. You wanna talk instead?”

“F YOU!!!”

I twist my former weaker arm and he shouts out, “OWWW SHIT, FINNNE!!!”

I get hop off my body and let him turn over.

He glances me over and says, “did you just jerk off in my body?”

I look down at the undeniable evidence.

“Yeah, I did. It was amazing.”

“You piece of—”

I look down and notice the tent in my boxers.

“Wait are you turned on right now?” I say to him.

“NO IM NOT!”

“You have a very noticeable boner right now.”

“Shut up! No I don’t!”

“What was it for you? Seeing your body all naked? Or was it when I pinned you down?”

He says nothing to me, just looks away.

“I mean you have very hot body Marco, theirs no shame in being turned on by it. Hell, I can’t stand you and I just had the best jerk off session in my life. What’s getting all hot and bothered? Is your hairy pits?” I hold his armpit up and step closer to him.

“Or maybe it’s the sight of your own cock.” I say shaking his semi-hard dick at him.

I move even closer to him. He looks like he’s in a trance.

“Oh you know what always gets me hard. Big manly feet,” I kick his foot up and show it to him.

I place his foot on my former bulge and start rubbing it.

“Does that feel good?”

He still say nothing but lets me keep going.

I push him further on the bed and pull off the brief I went to bed in my last.

My dick comes out standing straight up and leaking from the tip.

I place his foot on it and start toying with it using his toes.

He lets out a moan.

I look at my former face and he’s so turned on right now.

I pull his foot away and he says softly, “please don’t stop…”

“Oh you don’t want me to stop?”

“No… please Drew… it’s throbbing…”

“Well you’re gonna have to finish the job yourself, I’m going to shower and head to the pool.”

“WHAT!??”

“Yeah the pools still open, got to make the most out of these last few warm days Drew.”

“YOU!!! Drew, you can’t just leave me like this!!! I want my body back right now!”

“Sorry DREW! But this wasn’t my doing necessarily. If anything this is karma for you being such a prick all these years. Now run along and go take care of that boner little gay boy.”

I look at the corner of Marco’s room and see his dirty sock.

“Oh here you go! A gift from me to you, enjoy!”

I give my former throbbing dick a pat and I run off to the shower, leaving Marco in his mixed emotional state.

I rinse off quickly and come back out, I walk back into Marco’s room and see he’s still on the bed— sniffing the dirty sock and wanking one out.

“Oh fuck you’re back already!” he says to me.

He looks so pathetic right now.

“Geez, just stay right where you are.”

I drop the towel and get into bed with him. I grab my former cock and push it into Marco’s throat.

“HOLY!!!!” he screams out.

I suck off my former body while Marco’s moans frantically.

I feel him running my former hands in his hair and I feel myself getting a little excited from it. It’s kinda hot being this aggressive and sucking my former body off.

He lets out a loud grunt and cums down my new throat.

“Better?,” I say whipping the excess cum off my mouth.

“God yeah,” he says taking heavy breaths.

I look at my former body in the eyes and for a split second I thought about kissing him. But then reality sinks in… that’s still Marco inside.

I get out of bed and say, “I’m heading down to the pool.”

I put on his bathing suit and he says to me, “Drew, I’m sorry for being such a dick.”

“I know you are,” I say back.

“Can we try to fix this?”

“I’m sorry to Marco but I don’t think we fix this, these may be our bodies forever. So you might as well get comfortable.”

I left him sitting in his now former room naked and silent.

When I get down to the pool it doesn’t take me long to notice others noticing me.

Some girls and some guys, I look over at some of the guys and even wink at one. He is super cute and fit.

I hop on to a float and lay back soaking up the sun. I wait to see if that guys going to make a move when the ultimate buzz kill shows up.

It’s Marco in my body.

“Sup,” he says to me.

“Just trying to relax.”

“Yeah well, we still need to talk.”

“We don’t now f*ck off.”

He rolls his eyes and walks over a chair by the pool.

Soon that guy from earlier comes over.

“Hey, what’s up?” he says to me with a grin.

“Just laying out wait for you to come over,” I say with a smirk.

“Oh is that so?” he says flirtatiously.

He gets into the pool and now he’s right next to me.

“I’m Lois.”

“Marco,” I say introducing myself to him.

“So do you live here?”

“Yeah I’m on the second floor.”

“Nice, I’m on the third.”

We flirt and have small talk for a minute until he asks me out.

“Sure you wanna do tonight?” I say to him.

“Oh man, yeah I’m down,” he tries not to be too excited.

“Great, let’s say 7?”

“Yeah 7 works for me.”

“Cool,” I say grinning at him.

I peak out of the corner of my eye and see my Marco coming up to the pool.

“What are you doing?” he says to me.

“Oh hey Drew, this is my roommate.”

“Oh nice, I’m—”

“Don’t care dude, I need to talk to you Marco.”

“Uh okay, sorry Lois. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yeah for sure!”

I get out of the pool and walk back to the apartment with Marco angry.

“What was that?” he says sternly.

“None of your business! Also you were just so f*cking rude!”

“I don’t care! You were flirting with that guy!”

“Yeah so? We are going on a date tonight.”

“WHAT?!?”

“Yeah, and you interrupted it.”

“You’re going on a date with a guy in my body?!?”

“It’s my body now and yes I am!”

“But… but you just sucked me off and…”

“And what? You thought that was something special?”

“OF COURSE NOT! I’M NOT GAY!”

“Well what you did a few hours ago seemed pretty gay to me.”

“Yeah that’s because I’m in your gay body and plus that’s my body. It’s kinda like masterbation.”

“Whatever man, I really don’t care. If you want to pretend to be straight that’s fine. But I’ll be honest, I think you’ve always had feelings for guys. I know because I’m in your body and I’m still attracted to men.”

“SHUT UP!!!”

“So it’s true, you’ve been a dick to me my entire life about my sexuality, what I like, and it turns out you have some pinned up jealousy towards me right?”

Marcos looking down at the ground.

“We could have been friends, do you not get that?!? We could have—”

Marco grabs me and kisses me.

I was so shocked and I even felt butterflies in my stomach. We kiss for a few minutes before I pull back.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!?”

“I’m sorry Drew! I was never going to do all of that stuff. I… I don’t know how to say this… I like you. I like you a lot. Hell, I thought about kissing you just about every time I went to kiss any girl. But I have so much anger and you’re right I am jealous! I’m jealous that you’re out and proud of yourself. You’re so confident! Fuck!!”

“So why put me through so much!?!! I mean look at us, we’re literally trapped as each other now! All of this could have been prevented if you just owned up.”

“I thought… I thought you would have hated me so much that you would tell everyone the truth about me. So… I just, I was a prick.”

“Damn right you were!”

“Sorry… again.”

“It’s fine, I guess I’m sorry for causing this body swap thing between us. I made some wish last night to get back at you. I didn’t think it would become anything but then woke up as you.”

His eyes get big, “so that’s how this happened?”

“Yeah, I guess something out in the universe was listening in and heard me.”

“That’s nuts.”

“Yeah it is.”

“Well if we are being honest about everything. I wasn’t just turned on by you dominating me upstairs. I was freaked out and yet turned on from being inside of you.”

“Really? My body?”

“Yeah Drew, you’re cute. You have an adorable face, cute slim figure, you’re charming yet kinky.”

“Wow.”

“And now I guess we are going to have to be each other forever?”

“Yeah I guess so.”

“Well if I had to be anyone else, I’m glad it’s you.”

“You mean that?”

“I do.”

I grinned at him and he smiles back at me. We both start to laugh.

“Are you still going on a date with this Lois guy?”

“Well not if an adorable guy who’s charming yet kinky stops me.”

“I guess that’s me now isn’t it?”

“Yep!”

“Well I can’t fully stop you but I can tell you this. If you don’t go—we can order take out, lay in bed together, and fool around all night.”

“Hmmmm… that sounds promising.”

“Plus, I know my body really well. And I can tell you no one knows how to make that body feel as good as I do.”

“Is that so?”

He walks closer to me seductively and Im starting to get hard again.

“I’ll nibble on those nipples, toy around with my balls…I bet you these hands are going to feel so good working that cock..”

He reaches into my bathing suit and I gasp.

“Fuckkk, I guess I’ll be staying tonight,” I say barely getting words out.

“Hell yeah!!!”

3 Months Later:

“Babe, are you packed? We got to be at your parents in a couple of hours… Babe?”

“Hi”

“Are you kidding?”

“We have time for a quick round, sides I’ll jerk you off using these sexy toes,” I say wiggling my feet at my boyfriend.

“Fuckkk… I guess we have time.”

Marco pulls off his shirt and I see the definition built into my former chest. He’s been hitting the gym a lot lately and everyday he’s looking sexier and sexier.

Marco pulls off his shorts and he’s already hard from these feet. It works like a charm every time.

I watch as my boyfriend grabs the foot that used to belong to him and he kisses every toe.

It’s crazy how quick the time had flown since we woke up as each other. I guess it helps that we are so in love with one another.

I start rubbing the cock that used to belong to me and now I’m hard.

“Babe, you are so talented with those toes… mhmmm that feels good.”

I use both feet and stroke back and forth.

He stops me for a second and plants my foot on his face.

“Did you work today without any socks on?”

“Hell yeah I did.”

He takes a big sniff of them.

“Fuckkk, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#body swap #male body swap #male tf #permanent tf #body theft #straight to gay

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patrophthia · 1 year

Note

Heya, I don't know it's already done or not but can you please write about the egoistic yandere Tom Marvolo Riddle with a hugeeee obsession and love🤔 on introverted half blood slytherin y/n who doesn't give a f*ck him and his looks like other girls of Hogwarts!🫠

thank you for sending this in, i was really hesitant on writing this bc i’ve never wrote anything like this before so i hope you like it!

know you better | tom riddle

pairing: tom riddle x fem!reader

warnings: yandere!tom, very obsessive and delusional way of thinking, death, even more delusions

To fall in love with you was the easiest thing Tom has ever done. All you had to do was merely be in the same vicinity as him and he’d found himself more than just head over heels over you.

For you to fall in love with him on the other hand, that surely was one of the hardest things he had to do in life. You don’t look at him —not because, unlike the others, you didn’t dare to but because you weren’t interested in him. You don’t offer him a smile when he greets you good morning. You don’t throw yourself at him when he turns a blind eye when he catches you sneaking around the castle at night. You don’t care for him.

And quite honestly, it is driving him insane. What is it that everybody has that he doesn’t? Why does everyone else get to see you smile when you won’t even turn in his direction? Why won’t you just admit you want him as much as he wants you?

Though you don’t show it, Tom can read between the lines. He thinks —no, he knows that you’re acting indifferent to play hard to get. He knows you want him, you just won’t admit it.

He tries to be a gentleman about his intentions at first, sliding up to you whilst you hover your cauldron during potions. He calls out your last name cautiously, careful to not startle you; he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he accidentally hurts you. You turn to him, a small frown appearing on your lips. “Riddle?”

He skips the formalities, not bothering to beat around the bush. “Would you like to go out this weekend?”

You fix him a look, and then, “no.”

You didn’t hear him right. That’s what he tells himself. Or maybe he’s confused, because why wouldn’t someone want to go out with him? Tom clarifies himself, “I meant on a date.”

You turn back to your cauldron, ending the conversation as is. “No.”

He was certain that you’re playing hard to get now. That was until one of his goons —Malfoy, that was his name, started noticing that Tom’s eyes tended to wander whenever you were in the same room as him; until Malfoy tells Tom exactly why you’d said no.

“Macmillan, that’s his name. Walburga says they’ve been going out for a few months now.” You have a boyfriend? No, no, that can’t be right. There’s no way you had a boyfriend when you were so clearly playing hard to get with Tom this entire time.

Was it because your ‘boyfriend’ was holding you back from your true love? Or were you using this ‘boyfriend’ as bait? Had you known that it was time for Tom to create his next Horcrux and had needed a new sacrifice? How thoughtful of you to take care of these little things for him.

Luckily Tom’s smart, he’s known to be smart, and he’s smart enough to read you like an open book even though you won’t spare a second of your time on him. He admires it, how hard you’re playing this role of not caring for him when you’re clearly as indicated with him as he, you.

He’ll take up on your offer, he thinks as he sets out towards his chamber. The Basilisk is a dear friend of his, it’s even dearer when it does these things for him. In Parsel tongue, Tom says his order. “Kill Macmillan. And be careful not to hurt her.”

The Basilisks set out first, setting off after the aforementioned man; Tom a few steps behind. It isn’t hard for him to follow his dear friend, it leaves a wet trail in its wake for him to follow and it’s even easier for him to know when his friend has done its job from the scream you let out.

Tom’s clever enough to hide behind the corridors as he waits for his friend to return back to his home. His heart aches to hold you as you scream time and time again, asking for help and he reminds himself to reward you for your amazing acting.

With the way you’re so desperately clinging onto Macmillan’s body, you almost convince him that you genuinely cared for Macmillan, like Macmillan really was someone you were in love with. But he knows you, he knows you better than you know you. And he knows you love him.

So he schools his expression to one of worry, if you were really playing the part then he should be a good sport and play it with you. “What’s wrong?” He asks you, not sparing a glance at Macmillan’s frigid body.

“This —this thing, it came and it—” you stutter out, hiccuping out each word as you swiped at your eyes. Tom places a hand on your own, removing your grip on Macmillan’s body and ignores it when you flinch at his touch. “—it, I don’t know what it did but next thing I knew he was— he was gone.”

Oh poor you, he sympathises. Such a good girl for him to play your part so well. He pries your other hand away from Macmillan’s body and wraps his arm around you. “It’s okay,” he offers, pressing your face against his chest. “It’s okay, I’m here now. I’ll keep you safe.”

You sniffle, pulling away from him slightly. And when he realises that you could see the red glow in his eyes, neither of you mention it; for you were too afraid of the man holding you, and he too in love for something so trivial to take part of your conversation.

— from bee: this is so so new to me,, i hope you liked it!

#— requests #tom riddle fic #tom riddle x yn #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #tom riddle angst #tom riddle x reader #yandere!tom riddle x reader #— blurbs with bee #🧳: my writing #🍰: 600 with patro!

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teyums · 2 years

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“Everyone knows. Everyone knows. She f*cks you.”

Ao’nung headcanon (no use of yn!)

⚠️ All characters are age 18 or over in this story. I will not write Ao’nung in a suggestive manner unless he is aged up.

Wc: 1.2k

I myself haven’t seen anyone write Ao’nung as submissive so I was happy to. And personally, I think this fits him way more hehe. 🤭

includes: suggestive/strong language.

part two

• Because Ao’nung is such a dickhead and so headstrong all the time, I think its pretty damn obvious that it’s merely a tough front he puts on to throw any one off from finding out he’s submissive as hell, especially you. He’s actually a sucker for the woman he loves. This man literally WORSHIPS the ground you walk on and he lives for that shit. That big and bad act is simply a disguise to hide the fact that he’s actually a bitch boy. He would definitely listen to whatever you say and follow your directions to a T.

•He’s had women pine after him before but they quickly gave up because he’s so damn rude, leaving him with zero potential mates before you came along. No other na’vi woman was willing to put up with his attitude, or better yet, see right through that shit and squash it like you did. Or maybe no other woman had the power to. The mere thought of you was enough to get this man off, he was like putty in your hands; completely infatuated with you.

Something in your bones always told you that bully act was one big bluff. The first time Ao’nung hurt your feelings while you were dating, you denied his want to touch you for two whole days. When he expressed his disapproval of your decision, you made him get on his knees and beg for forgiveness, or he wouldn’t be able to touch you for two weeks. Two weeks without touching you for Ao’nung would feel like two years. It’s not a surprise that he’s incredibly clingy and gets upset when he can’t be near you 24/7, so you knew exactly what to hold against him when he made you mad. Jeez, what a fuckin baby. Talk about mommy issues.

“Baby, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean it, will you forgive me?” He spoke softly and looked down at you with doe eyes, hoping to get off the hook and have this be over with. You stood in front of him and let out a dry laugh, arms crossed and expression unamused. Now he knew good and well you wouldn’t go that easy. Him being an entire foot taller than you didn’t phase you and he knew that. Some of the other men laughed when they would see a sight such as this. How is such a small, feeble woman controlling the olo’eyktan’s son like she’s his handler? What kind of spell did you put on him?

You stared up at Ao’nung through your long lashes, hard. Completely unwavered by his attempt at winning you over.

He sighed and reached for you, but before he could even brush a finger against your arm you swatted his hand away.

“You don’t get to touch.” You hissed, earning a whine and almost a frustrated stomp from the boy who seemed sooo tough.

God, you loved to see him squirm.

“Beg for it.” You demanded, your gaze mean and unfaltering. You didn’t feel bad, Ao’nung treated everyone else like this and you were simply giving him a taste of his own medicine. Besides, he liked it anyway. The boy has a thing for dominant women, who would have guessed.

He sighed, looking around at the other na’vi strolling on the beach and cursing under his breath. “Please, please forgive me.” He spoke, sounding so much smaller than before, both in voice and confidence.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Is this what you call begging, Ao’nung? That’s pathetic, you know better. Do not waste my time.”

“Ugh… right now? Like, here? People will see me.” He lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck and spoke in a hushed tone so nobody around would hear what he was saying. He had an image to uphold, the tough son of the olo’eyktan who didn’t take shit from anybody and gave shit to everybody. If anyone saw you controlling him like this, he feared it would damage his “reputation”. Or more so his ego.

You didn’t care though, this shit turned you on. And no matter how much he complained about it, you knew it turned him on too. He would never hide the way he looked at you as if he wanted to pounce, and his body gave him up as if you had offered it a cash reward.

“Fine, three weeks.” You responded plainly and shrugged after upping his timeout, turning on your heels to walk until he grabbed your wrist and sunk down to his knees before your footing could even change in the sand.

“Wait, wait! Please, my love… I’m sorry” He apologized, genuinely this time. You could hear the desperation in his voice and it made your core tingle with need. He held your smaller sized hand in both of his much larger ones and pressed his lips against the back of it, smothering it with kisses incessantly and apologizing between each one.

Ao’nung was aware of what he had just been told, no touching. But he couldn’t help himself, he needed his hands on you every minute of the day, whether it be him kissing the back of your hand as if you were royalty or you playing in his hair while he dozed away on your chest. At this point, you had long forgiven him but seeing this big so called ‘bully’ down on his knees in front of you to earn back something so simple as the right to touch you, made you hot. You raised an eyebrow and lifted your chin at him, taking your hand back and placing your hands on your hips in an attempt to look unimpressed.

His eyes widened slightly and he shook his head, wrapping his muscular arms around your torso he hugged you tightly from below.

“Please princess, I will do anything… whatever you want. I’ll be good from now on, I promise. Just take me off punishment.” He whined desperately, the side of his face pressed just below your navel, his grip on you strong.

Feeling your breath quietly catch in your throat as you watched him, you re-centered yourself to stop your legs from trembling. Many thoughts passed through your mind and you felt your skin heating up with his face pressed up against your body. You hummed, trying to decide on one of many options and gently brushing your fingers back between the lines of scalp next to his braids.

“Anything I want?” You cooed, chewing on your bottom lip slightly and earning an instant nod from the boy who was at your complete disposal.

“Ao’nung, up.” You beckoned and used your hand to raise his chin, seeing him look up at you in admiration from below as he quickly rose back to his feet at your direction. Taking his hand, you eyed him up and down deviously while he became more and more impatient with every second that passed. The shadow on his loincloth looked much different than it did when this conversation had started. The fabric was beginning to stretch, becoming taut and hinting at his arousal. He witnessed hunger and desire cloud your eyes, his tongue peeking out to lick at his bottom lip and his eyes watching you feverishly while he waited on your next move.

“Come.” You giggled, turning around and pulling him along like a lost puppy. A sigh of relief left his lips and the goofiest smile painted its way onto his face. You could damn near see the hearts flying in a halo around this boy’s head, he was so lovestruck. His ears perked up and his stride looked drunken as he allowed you to drag him back to your tent, his eyes falling to your backside and exposing how eager he was to fulfill whatever promise he had made to you.

a/n: Alright I’m back in my groove now yall! This was so fun to write and it came to me so easily. I’m a sucker for obedient men who do as they’re told, what can I say. 🫠 I’m not sure how far in detail i’ll go when it comes to smut with ao’nung or neteyam (aged up ofc). I do know that I’ll probably get requests for multiple parts so If I write more you might see an increase in strong language or suggestive/m🅰️ture themes but I’ll have to see about that. I hope you guys enjoyed! Please like and reblog if you can, it’s much appreciated. 💞

tag list ⬇️

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#avatar 2 #ao’nung x reader #ao’nung #avatar way of water #ao’nung x you #aonung #ao’nung x y/n #ao’nung smut #ao’nung x female reader #ao’nung fanfic

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lokisgoodgirl · 2 years

Text

Bow to Me [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader]

Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: (15) Reveals and eroticism are rife at Stark's Renaissance Faire. (w/c 4.2k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smuttish. Language.

The veil fastened to your forehead by a simple gold band billowed around your shoulders. Heavy skirts fluttered around your ankles, an approaching banner of war. Thor’s eyes grew wide with alarm, seeing your determined stride through a maze of colourful bunting. There would be no escape this time. He threw a fresh candy apple to the side mid-bite, taking off with a comical run to the nearest high topped tent. It was thirty minutes into Stark’s annual family fun-day. The theme this year? Renaissance Faire. And you were already prepared to go medieval on pretty much everybody in attendance.

Several wide-eyed children looked up at you in awe as you strode between them, the heavy folds of your skirts swishing purposefully on your way to confront the cowardly god. “Fhor is afwaid of her.” one of the children lisped, to a chorus of hushed woww’s that followed you like a breeze. You smirked, lifting the luxurious panel of the costume tent to reveal a cowering Thor trying frantically to conceal himself with ye olde dust sheet. “Desist, woman!” he whined dramatically, stretching out a hand with the sheet hanging limply, the other shielding his eyes. “Do not tempt me with your corseted bosom and coquettish wiles, I beg of you. You know not what you do!" You folded your arms, trying not to laugh. “I’m not trying to make you break the Oath of Most Ass-yoor-red Recompense, idiot - your dick is safe as far as I’m concerned.” you said, watching Thor’s eye squint between parted fingers. “You know of this?” he mumbled warily. “Oh, I know of this.” you smirked. His arms fell to his sides, a look of bamboozled relief on his face. “Thank the gods.” he murmured. “I thought for sure when I saw your fiery demeanour out yonder that you had finally come to your senses and decided you must have me.” he looked at you with sudden panic. “Not that I would-I wouldn’t...oh, do not tell my broth-” You raised a hand, his words fumbling to a merciful stop. “I need to ask you something.” you said slowly, hoping he could sense the need for some semblance of sincerity. Thor's brow furrowed. “Loki said I needed to speak to you, it’s weird – so, well he can see...he says- um, flashes of things in my head and I wondered…” you trailed off, feeling suddenly foolish under Thor’s blank stare. “Go on.” he gestured expectantly, arms folded. His brows were raised, as if you had said nothing of any note at all. It was your turn to frown. “Well, what the fuck is up with that? It’s rude.” you snapped. Thor chuckled. “You are in love with him. Obviously.” he scoffed, turning over his shoulder to glance at himself in the mirror. He smoothed a rogue blonde strand, pouting. “Why do people keep saying that?” you huffed, brushing the front of your dress as heat rose in your cheeks. “Everyone knows I can’t stand him so I don’t know why you’re both obsessed with-”

“Mother used to do it to me all the time…” he continued, ignoring you as he re-adjusted the short velvet cape clasped to his shoulders. He had dressed as a king for today’s festivities. Because of course he had.

“I understand your misgivings. It is rather inconvenient. For instance, if you wish to conceal that it was you who mistakenly defecated in the pantry and your mother asks you who defecated in the pantry and you are trying to think of anything but defac-” “-OK, Thor.” you cut him off with a snap, heart thundering. “...But in my defence” he continued unwaveringly, straightening his garish plastic crown. “I was a mere five hundred at the time. Just discovered ale, you see.” he said, turning with an innocent grin which faltered when he saw your steely stare. You frowned as Thor cleared his throat. “Even you mortals have an innate barrier to the invasive sight of others, something you enact as easily as breathing.” he said, traces of mirth ebbing. “When a person feels love, that barrier falters – and recipients of that love who are gifted with magic can, you know...” “See into their thoughts?” you finished. Thor shook his head. “Read their emotions, things that make them feel. Like empathy, as overrated as is it. Or guilt – such as the guilt one may feel over allegedly defecating in a pantry.” You rolled your eyes. “Well it’s bullshit. I can’t love him – he’s awful.” Thor nodded sagely, straightening his velvet tunic. “My brother likely shares your disquiet, in all honesty.” he muttered, adjusting his crown. “In truth, I thought he would be more unbearable when this eventually happened, but he has maintained a surprising amount of decorum. You should thank him.” “Thank him?!" you snorted incredulously. "I don’t think so.” Thor preened, as moments passed in silence. “Wait…” you said slowly. “He’s never been able to do this before?” Thor shrugged, swishing his cape theatrically across his chest. He looked at you blankly as your eyes widened in disbelief. “You mean...no one’s ever loved him? How is that possible?” you whispered, hearing Thor chuckle. “You speak of love often for someone who is not, in fact, in love.” he said, raising a bushy eyebrow. “In answer to your question...those who may have developed those feelings for him became...distracted.” Thor shuffled on his feet, gaze drawn back to himself in the mirror. “Distracted?” you murmured curiously. “Yes.” he replied. “By me. An unfortunate consequence of being the unquestionable biological jewel of the family, one cannot blame them really.” You suddenly remembered the conversation which sparked their sword-fight in the training hall last month. ‘Since when did you respect the Covenant of the First Seed, brother?’ Loki had spat with fire. You remembered the casual indifference painted on Thor’s brow, radiating a confidence that was severely lacking in his present state. ‘I see not how it is my fault that you could not satisfy your lovers, Loki.’ the blonde in front of you had said. “You fucked his girlfriends? Thor, that’s sick.” you hissed, shaking your head. Thor chuckled again. “They came to me, my Lady. In their glances across the dining hall with red jewels in their hair. Flashing garters a deep shade of maroon that would make Borr himself weak. The Ordinance of the Colours is no trifle. You know yourself the power of my seductive prowess. How could they resist?”

You grimaced. “Well, I did.” you sniped, folding your arms. “Yes…” Thor conceded thoughtfully, before flicking his hair back. “But you are also in love with my brother so your unnatural tastes cannot be accounted for.”

Your mind was suddenly flooded with memories of the rage in Loki’s hands and teeth as he tore the red dress from your body the night of the shareholders party. The venom in his eyes as he watched it explode in the air in a burst of green light. The way his stare hardened at the sight of your cleavage cupped in crimson lingerie, the ancient sword conjured as deathly sharp as his cheekbones to set his brother away from you. It wasn’t Asgardian bullshit. It was more than that. And for the first time, you felt something stronger than anger. Guilt. You swallowed, chin raised defiantly as Thor’s smug gaze trawled your features. It wasn’t often he found himself on the stronger side of a debate. You ran a finger nonchalantly along a rail of cloaks hanging to your side, before inspecting the tip for non-existent dust. “Not that he does but I mean theoretically if he loved me, just you know...out of interest...I should be able to hear his thoughts, right?” “No.” Thor scoffed disbelievingly. “That is a ridiculous notion. You are not gifted.” “Right.” you said, lips hardening in a tight line. Thor sighed theatrically. “If it alleviates your malaise, I have never seen him show so much hostility towards someone he has not slaughtered moments later.” “Why would that alleviate my malaise?” you sneered, feeling your stomach flutter. “And I don’t have ‘malaise’ for god’s sake” you spat, unconvincingly, fidgeting with the loose belt at your waist. “Its not like I want him to love me I was just you know, checking.” Thor looked up coyly beneath pale lashes, a smug glint in his eye that he had doubtless learned from his infuriating brother. “My lady, if my observation does not betray his heart, then truly I do not know what does.” You stared at him mutely. He sighed again. “It is nuanced, I grant you. My brother is a frustrating creature. Believe me, I empathise.” He turned back to the mirror, admiring himself. “Rogers gave me a book this yuletide, regarding your 'Love Languages' by some alleged scholar or other. Well, my brother’s love language is... hostility.” he announced, pleased with his assessment. You rolled your eyes, fully aware the butterflies in your stomach had become a flock of sparrows. “Did you read the book?” you said flatly, hoping Thor didn’t catch the twitch of your jaw as you tried to contain the twist of nerves in your chest. “Well, no.” he said incredulously, face softening before he gave a knowing wink. “But that does not mean I am wrong.” You heard the quick succession of approaching footsteps outside the tent. “Thor! Come!” a familiar voice roared, thick and rich. “Preparations for the joust are a disaster. They intend to use horses, of all things – allegedly there are no flighting moose...on Midga-” Loki bristled, one arm frozen in drawing back the tent’s curtain.

Thor straightened the lapel of his obscenely luxurious padded tunic, tilting his toy crown askew. “What think you of my regalia, brother?” he drawled regally, spreading his hands wide to the sides. “I think there cannot be two kings.” Loki snarled bitterly, resting a hand on the hilt of a sword slung by his hip. A dull one, you hoped.

He too was dressed in costumed finery; a lapel of ermine cupping his chin above a perfectly fitted tunic of such rich green it was almost black. An ornate golden chain hung in a semi-circle around his shoulders, making a crescent on his broad chest. You ran your eyes down his long body, a pair of pale hose snug to his endlessly muscled legs. He was positively poured into them, the opaque fabric smoothing the raw animalistic power hidden beneath their cover. They ran down to a ridiculous pair of heeled, buckled shoes. Green, naturally. Loki shifted his stance, feet pointed to the exit. You watched the bulge of his thighs ripple, femurs outlined exquisite against the sinful tights which clung to carved limbs like a second skin. Your eyes lingered on his bulge, the lower curve just visible beneath the hem of the tunic. Saliva evaporated on your tongue. You tried to swallow - begging yourself to forget every historical sex scene you had ever rewound as your fingers pulsed on your clit. The god’s hair fell in luscious waves, set against the white fur tucked beneath his jaw like black paint on snow. He was beautiful. And he too, was wearing a crown. Because of course he was. “You are correct brother, there cannot be two kings at this revelry – but by a happy accident I only see one present.” Thor winked at you again. Loki’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a flirtation I observe, brother?” Thor paled. “No, he’s fine.” you said quickly, feeling your cheeks heat beneath Loki’s glare. He hadn’t spoken a word to you since your last tense encounter in the Snack Shack six days ago, every raise of your hand during meetings causing a mighty roll of his eyes akin to the old days. The weight of your interrupted conversation hung heavily in the air. Wafting like cigar smoke. Stifling.

Suddenly Thor barged towards his brother and turned sideways to exit the tent, the width of his ridiculous puffed sleeves causing him to shuffle awkwardly past his stoic sibling. Loki shot you a cold glare, nodding expectantly towards the exit for you to follow him. You sauntered casually towards the gap, taking no mind of the smouldering gaze rolling appraisingly over your medieval dress like treacle. Loki held the curtain of the tent high, his arm stoically positioned above your head as you finally felt the waft of a fresh breeze on your heated cheeks. “Agent.” he murmured in unnecessary greeting as you passed, making you pause. The scent of him invaded alongside the breath you didn’t know you had been holding. Wood smoked leather and dusky sandalwood. Pine. It clung to his onyx curls; hanging like a un-repentant traitor on every stitch of gold thread wound into the tight tunic snug against his torso. You could feel his eyeline trail down the valley of your cleavage as easily as if it was his tongue. “You’ve been ignoring me.” you said quietly, eyes fixed on Thor standing ahead; hoisting up his hoes with an exaggerated squat. People were staring. “Have I, Agent?” Loki purred, craning down from his position. His lips grazed the tip of your cheekbone as he spoke. Was he smelling your hair? “I didn’t think you would notice. Considering how little you think of our interactions.” he murmured. You could hear a snarl behind his teeth, barely masked venom blossoming on the cusp of each word like brewing tea.

You tilted your chin, the space between two pairs of parted lips excruciatingly small. Raising your eyes to meet his, you found no warmth there. No playfulness. Not today. And to be honest, after what Thor had told you, you didn’t blame him. Loki’s eyes narrowed, readjusting his grip on the fabric panel held aside above your head. “If you have nothing further to say, Agent…” he sneered sarcastically against your ear. His body curved away from you, ensuring that not a single part of his achingly erotic form touched yours. Loki’s haughty condescension sliced through the melting desire in your core, a weirdly comforting irritation usurping it. The thick golden chain hanging against his collarbone glinted in the afternoon sun, vying for your attention. Self-centred, presumptive arsehole, you flamed, feeling renewed warmth seep across your skin. Does he expect me to tell him I fucking ‘love’ him while his brother is rummaging around his crotch twenty feet away? Your gaze locked onto the sight of Thor’s face twisted in confusion as he tried to arrange himself covertly beneath the hose. Loki’s conceited confidence made you boil, a confusion of emotions competing in your addled brain making you feel nauseous. “You’re wrong.” you managed to say, voice strained. Loki chuckled mirthlessly beside you. “We’ll see.” he replied ominously, as you began to walk forward. You didn’t know why you had stopped in the first place. The chiffon headdress fluttered around your chin. Now that the adrenaline of searching for Thor had dissipated, you could finally take in the surroundings of Stark’s much anticipated event. A calculated distraction, you would admit. Swathes of bygone-era dressed guests moved in groups from stall to stall. The faint pluck of a lute troupe audible over the buzz of the crowd, humming like birds in the rustling waves of trees surrounding the clearing. Stationary wagons holding every manner of historical food and beverage you could think of were dotted about. Tony had really spunked the budget this year. Silently, you walked sandwiched between two simmering gods towards the only group of familiar faces; hovering by the food carts.

“What were the three of you doing in the costume tent?” Wanda said coyly, wriggling her eyebrows. You shook your head subtly. Loki frowned. “I think the better query is why Lang is sporting that counterfeit phallus.” he drawled, drawing his eyes judgementally over the protrusion from Scott’s hose-clad hips. The subject of his jibe’s eyes widened, a gargantuan roasted turkey leg covering the lower half of his face. “Wha-?” he mouthed, meat flicking into the air and hitting Nat on the forehead. Scott swallowed with difficulty, gesturing at his crotch with a free hand. “Hello?! It’s a Ren faire! Cod-pieces galore am I right? Everyone’s got em. You’ve got one for god’s sa-” He stopped mid-sentence, gaze lingering once more on the draw of Loki’s hypnotic groin outlined perfectly beneath the tights. You traced the curves of your sometime-lover’s bulge covetously, remembering the smack of the shutters against your lower back as he railed into you like a furious, feral animal; fucking for survival. God, had it only been a week? It felt like years. Loki shifted his stance, folding his arms as he widened his hips. “We both know that I do not require such auspicious modifications, Lang.” he said slowly, a smile tugging his lips as Scott’s cheeks flushed.

“Please tell me we’re not talking about Laufeyson’s ding-dong again…” Steve whined over your shoulder, making you jump. He sashed into the centre of the circle, hands folded together beneath the long brown draping of his sleeves. A wooden cross hung around his neck, a thick rope of cream tied to his waist. Gone was the shock of radiant blonde hair, and in its place a questionable skullcap complete with dark bowel-cut. Friar Rogers. You lowered your eyes to the ground, feeling your chest begin to contract with laughter. For a moment, you saw Loki’s feet shuffle closer; just a little. Steve’s blue eyes widened pleadingly, every inch a man of the cloth. “Can we please try to keep lewdness to a minim-” “-I think what Tuck Shop is trying to say is that there are children, children.” Tony chided with amusement, as he sauntered out of nowhere to take his place beside the good Friar. Deep lines on his forehead danced with barely contained mirth. Or maybe he’d just been at the mead. A resplendent crown sat jauntily on his head, a tunic of red tinselled satin and silver thread replacing his trademark t-shirt and jeans. In one hand, he held a ridiculously large steak on a stick. In the other, a tankard. He took a sip, as Steve glanced around, flinching as a juggler appeared out of nowhere and disappeared into the crowd. Tony burped, before posturing thoughtfully. “Although, I think collectively we can agree we’re all obsessed with Laufeyson’s ‘ding-dong’.” he quipped, raising an eyebrow around the circle. “I mean...it’s worth its not un-sizeable weight in free PR, for one thing.” Steve flushed an alarming shade of crimson, cut off comically at the base of his skullcap. Loki sighed with theatrical exasperation. “Stark, you declared that I was to be the King in today’s farcical proceedings.” he said petulantly, with no attempt to hide his irritation. “Did I?” Tony gasped, pressing a palm to his chest. Thor snorted. “I think not, brother.” he scoffed. “The crown should fall in direct lineage to those who are worthy. I would be willing to concede my post as King of this fete if you would but grant me your renewed Oath of Most Assured Recompense in return?” he goaded, making Loki’s jaw clench. You heard him inhale sharply- “-No more Oaths!” you snapped, making both brothers jump. “This is ridiculous. You can both be kings, no one cares.” There were murmurs of agreement from the rest of the group. Tony raised his hand incredulously while Loki and Thor let out a simultaneous derisive snort. “Both?!” the blonde boomed, shaking his head. “My, my it truly would never have worked between us.” he said wistfully. Loki rolled his eyes as Rogers backed slowly out the circle, seeming to glide glacially with tiny steps beneath the sway of his shit-coloured robes. “Well then one of you change.” Nat growled, as you started to feel the antsy crawl of awkward tension tingle up your arms again. Thor laughed. “There is not one garment in the tent from whence we came that would fit over one of my mighty calves, Romanoff. Tis’ my brother who shall have to concede.” “Did they really think I’d give anyone else the King job at my own damn party?” you heard Tony scoff loudly to no-one. “Asgardians, I’m tellin ya…” You saw the muscle in Loki’s cheek bob as he ground his teeth. Tony bit into the speared steak in his hand, enjoying it all immensely. The dark god’s eyes flashed, a glimmer of something sparking heat between your legs.

“Fine.” Loki snapped, “As it happens I came prepared for such traitorous shenanigans. A lifetime of dealing with you, brother, has taught me to always save my best for when you show your hand.” he smirked, eyes flickering between you and a sceptical Thor. “Besides…” he purred slowly, stalking his gaze in your direction. “I have found that people are quite willing to bow to me... even without a crown.”

He grasped one of the golden tips with his thumb and forefinger, thrusting the ornament to the ground at Thor’s feet with a flick of his wrist. You saw a green glow lap at Loki’s feet, moving slowly upwards. He could do this in a millisecond if he wanted, but he was putting on a show. His twee buckled shoes melted to thick black leather, rolling up his calves like armour. Edges appeared below the knees, shifting inward to coat his carved thighs in matching trousers which, somehow, gave the illusion of being even snugger than the cream tights. You swallowed, unable to tear your eyes away as a wave of wild fur blossomed around his torso; bear or fox or- “-Wolf.” Loki purred rakishly in your direction, his tongue taking its time over the syllable like a seductive bark. “Urgh, I love it when he does that.” Wanda cooed huskily, giving her face a dramatic fan. You rolled your eyes, shuffling with your arms folded. Suddenly your corset felt tight. Very tight. In the seconds your gaze had been averted, a thick leather belt had appeared around Loki’s midriff, cinching the fur. Heavy pendants hung from his neck, glinting in the afternoon sun against bare skin. The wolf fur ran in a deep V to his naval, every inch a slutty medieval bandit. Christ, you thought. I’m fucked.

“This will suit my new posting for the festivities all the better, anyway.” Loki sneered towards his brother as Tony took another gulp of mead. He flicked his hair over his shoulders, the haughty slice of his jaw making you flinch as it pointed to you. “I find that women prefer characters’ with a little more...depth. Isn’t that right, Agent?” Wanda elbowed you in the ribs playfully as Thor squinted; bamboozled. “What does that mean?” he scoffed. “I thought you on greeting duty, of all things…over yonder.” He tilted his head towards the line of families queued at the entrance, excited children jumping up and down. You saw a young girl burst into tears as a manically grinning Friar Steve loomed over her, draped sleeves hanging from arms stretched in greeting before her mother snatched her away. Loki smirked. “I have been re-assigned.” he said, glinting eyes making a flutter shuffle in your belly. His thumbs hooked into the thick leather belt, tugging downward. What you wouldn’t give to feel the smart of that leather whip across your ass as he took you against a tree in the wilderness beyond the faire’s boundary. Maybe he will, you thought as a thrill flooded soared beneath the anachronistic lace panties you were wearing. Loki’s lashes fluttered upwards, his lip curling before those ethereal features hardened again. He had been colder than usual this past week, and you had a feeling that today would be no different, given the circumstances.

“Yah – he’s on the archery range now.” Tony interjected casually, breaking the stare you didn’t know you were burning into the profile of Loki’s jawline.

Nat shook her head. “What the fuck? Where’s Clint?” she said, glancing around the bustling thoroughfare. Tony shrugged, talking through a mouthful of ye olde steak. “Said he didn’t feel like it today, his voice sounded a little hoarse on the phone.” Nat’s brow arched, swinging her eyes suspiciously towards Loki. The god rocked on his heels, a tiny shrug making his shoulders bounce as he tried to contain the smile pressing at his dimples. “I didn’t know you could shoot.” you scoffed, fidgeting with the veil hanging by your collarbone. “You never asked, Agent.” he drawled innocently, running a hand through his perfectly waved hair. “But truly...are you surprised?” Nat suddenly yanked you to the side of the group. She cast a quick glance back to the circle closing in on Loki, admiring his new outfit. Scott was rubbing a palm repeatedly down his pelted chest while the god smirked, pleased with himself. “He’s done something with Clint.” she hissed over your shoulder. You frowned, leaning back incredulously to see the concern etched plainly on her face. “He wouldn’t…” you whispered, glancing at a resplendent, wolf fur clad Loki stretching his ridiculously long arms to Scott's unbridled awe. “Whatever the fuck is going on with you guys, I don’t give a shit.” Nat said quietly. “Go with Laufeyson, find out where he’s put him. Barton could be passed out enchanted off his nuts in a port-a-potty and we’d never find him.”

You narrowed your eyes, trying to read her face. “Nat I…” you started, fully intending to stand your ground. Suddenly there was a low whistle. Both of you twisted around, seeing Loki drawn to his full height; hair flowing over the puffed collar of his furs with his thumb and forefinger slotted in his mouth. The curve of his ass in the aged leather trousers was obscene, thick thighs creasing the material as it fought against its master. Christ, how you wanted to sink your teeth into them as you buried yourself between his achingly long legs. There were screams from the crowd before it parted, a panicked flurry of feathered hats and veils and skirts flying in all directions as citizens fell over themselves. A beautiful black steed cantered through the fray, completely un-phased. It was absolutely huge, the massive muscles of it's broad chest flexing with each long step. It’s smooth coat gleamed, rich tones of deepest blue flashing amongst the inky hairs as it trotted over and stopped with its nose pressed against Loki’s palm. “Shall we, Agent?” Loki purred knowingly snapping his fingers and making a vibrant caparison unfurl on the waiting stallion. The luxurious material fell in folds, dark emerald and vibrant gold with Loki's insignia woven through the fabric. A saddle and reins manifested snug to the huge horse, who whinnied in approval. Words failed you, seeing an ornate curved bow appear in Loki's grip through a wash of flickering magic. He slung it casually over his shoulder, palm stretched toward you expectantly. You vaguely heard Scott’s murmurs of besotted admiration as a sharp nudge from Natasha in the kidneys made you stumble forwards, automatically grasping towards his hand. Before you could protest, the air was knocked out of you as Loki’s fingers gripped around your waist, throwing you up. Your ass landed sideways on the saddle with a soft thump. You scrambled to grip the reigns, steadying yourself. With a graceful bound, Loki swung himself up behind, winding arms encasing you before his nimble fingers caressed the leather reigns from your grasp.

The disbelieving stares of the gathered Avengers crawled in your periphery as his forearms tightened around your ribs. Loki's elaborately constructed garment did nothing to disguise the hardness of the muscle beneath, thick ropes of pure power shifting as he settled. You could feel the slide of traitorous arousal leaking between your thighs, desperately wet and needy for the infuriatingly smug god steadying you against his spread leathered femurs. “You can be my first student, won’t that be fun?” he smouldered darkly, the whisper of his sweet breath skating over the delicate skin beneath your ear. He chuckled softly against your cheek. "Someone has to break me in before I am unleashed on the unsuspecting public, surely." You sighed, a quiver of anticipation betraying the roar of desire between your legs as you pressed them together, hanging off the side of his steed. The horse stamped once. Impatient, like his master. “And Agent…?” Loki murmured through a smirk, the deep baritones making you squeeze your shoulder-blades together against the expanse of rippling masculinity beneath the wolf-pelt. “I have quite the lesson in mind.”

Continued in Bow to Me: Quivering Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection

Tags @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @mischief2sarawr @loopsisloops @michelleleewise @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @123forgottherest @holdmytesseract @joyful-enchantress @sititran @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @vbecker10 @imalovernotahater @thomase1 @lovelysizzlingbluebird @fictional-hooman @filthyhiddles @maple-seed @pineappleandro @goblingirlsarah @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @wolfmoonmusic @justjoanne242 @peachyjinx @praq123 @trickster-maiden @astridstark13 @lokisgoodboy @coldnique @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lady-rose-moon @nine-leafclover @springdandelixn @littlespaceyelf @ladyofthestayingpower @soldeloki @liminalpebble @psychospore

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #hostile f*cks collection #loki laufeyson #loki laufesyon x reader #loki x yn #loki x you #loki imagine #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki smut #loki fic #loki fanfiction #loki odinson x reader #loki marvel #loki gif

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mrfrogz · 2 months

Text

Rubble (Genji x Reader)

Hey guys! This is my first ever oneshot on Tumblr so I'm nervous and excited lol. I'm used to Wattpad and Ao3(for people who know I actually started on Wit LOL) so I apologize if the formatting is a bit weird/off. I hope you enjoy! (Also I wrote this a long time ago before McCree's name was changed) This was first uploaded on my Ao3, so if you enjoy consider checking me out here

As the aircraft was slowly making its approach to the ground, you grew more and more nervous. Biting your fingernails, you glanced around at the heroes who you happened to befriend. There was Zenyatta, you and him didn't talk much but he seemed very calm and collected in battle. Then Mercy, or Angela as she was most commonly called, was always a wonderful person to talk to however whenever she was treating a patient you knew to never disturb her. Next there was McCree, he had a much more "rough n' tough" exterior but whenever you guys were off duty he was a bit of a charmer, though you never fell for it. Orisa followed you around a lot, mostly because she was programmed to protect others but she also genuinely enjoyed your company, or at least, you thought it was genuine. It's hard to tell with robots.

Now there was Sigma, a bit of a newer addition to the crew but he was a strong fighter and an interesting person to be around. Despite his seemingly split personalities, you two have managed to have very pleasant conversations when everyone else is asleep. Finally..Genji. Genji was the hero everyone strived to be, or that's how you saw him. He was fun and goofy whenever you guys were off the job yet calculated and passionate when in the midst of a fight, but one trait persisted on and off the battlefield: his flirty-ness. McCree was a charmer, more "old fashioned" in his wits but Genji was a lot more audacious and up-front in his advances. Unfortunately, time doesn't stop for your daydreams so by the time you got to thinking about Genji the aircraft came to a particularly rough landing, jostling you around where you so happen to fall onto none other than: the cyborg ninja himself. It took you a second to fully realize what happened, as you were so busy in thought you disconnected from the outside world. That was, until you heard Genji's robotic yet endearing voice emit from behind the mask.

"Y/N, I know you're falling for me but you don't have to be so literal about it~" He teased, holding you up so you wouldn't hit the floor. Your face went hot, you still haven't quite gotten used to his banter yet. You quickly stood up properly, removing your arms from his hands. He chuckled spotting your reaction, he had a habit of doing that. "Relax Y/N, you know I'm just teasing."

That was true, but you still couldn't help but wonder..'No, now is not the time Y/N, you're about to go into battle for f×cks sake.' You put on a smile, shaking your head lightly in a playful manner. "Really Genji? Do you ever stop?"

"No Y/N, no he does not." The cowboy spoke up, chuckling lightly as he flicked his cigar, sending light sparks on the floor. "He won't stop talking 'bout ya eithe-"

"Jesse! What did I tell you about the smoking?!" Angela spoke up, quite literally a guardian angel in this moment as she distracted McCree from spilling all of Genji's secrets. The two went on to bicker, however the aircraft broke out in silence when the doors started to open slowly. You took a deep breath, knowing that this could possibly be your last mission. Though this was the case with every mission. Hanamura…Where Genji grew up. It was truly beautiful. Y'know..despite the smoke and fire from a battle that seemingly had already begun. After another deep breath, you and your team jumped off the aircraft. As you jumped, you looked over and made eye contact with Genji. He seemed to smile, giving you a thumbs up for good luck.

You were grateful your team was victorious. You were terrified of what could go wrong, of the people they could harm. Luckily, everybody was safe. Well, everybody but you. Currently, you were buried underneath the rubble, a wound on your head and you were 90% sure you broke your foot or perhaps your whole leg. You had tried calling out for your teammates, but the oxygen was getting thin. You weren't even panicking, because you knew your team had won the battle. That's all that mattered. That everyone else was safe. You closed your eyes, blood dripping down from the wound in your head. You let out a sigh, and everything stopped. Things went black, you felt numb. You were sure this was it. Until you heard a voice that was all too familiar.

"Y/N!!" The cyborg ran towards you in full distress. Fighting the calming blackness that over took you, you opened your eyes.

After coughing, you called out. "Genji…I-I'm here.." It was soft, and you weren't even sure if he could hear you. Hearing how panicked Genji was, was enough reason for you to keep fighting. He ran over to you, his enhanced robot hearing helping him greatly.

"Y/N!" He called out once more. "Y/N I'm here." He kept muttering random words, thanking the heavens you were alive, saying how stupid you were to go on your own, and then scolding himself because he was just so happy you were still here. He did all that as he moved the rubble off of you with ease. Genji relaxed greatly when he finally saw your face. Gently, he picked you up. You shuddered a bit against the cold metallic suit but quickly relaxed, your strength being all gone. "You're safe, Y/N. I promise, nothing bad will happen to you again." You nodded your head gently before closing your eyes once more, grateful for your savior.

When you finally awoke, the hiss of metal disconnecting was the first thing you heard. You stirred a little as you slowly gained back all your senses. You were laying on some kind of bed, and you were holding someone's hand. You could immediately tell who's it was though, the metallic fingers gently caressing your knuckles. You couldn't help the smile that etched on your face. You also felt some tubes run through your arm. 'Must be an IV..' Regarding your leg, it already had a cast on it and was elevated. Angela must have cared for you. After a moment, slowly, you opened your eyes while turning to look at Genji. You were a bit surprised though, when you saw he had taken his mask off. His face was scar ridden, but that never made him less attractive to you. Really you only saw him like this when he was injured, or sleeping. He was looking down, tears in his eyes. You tried reaching your other hand out to cup his face but he was a bit too far away. "Genji..C'mere.." You said softly. He immediately shot up, looking at you. The tears finally fell and he squeezed your hand.

"Y/N!! You're okay!" He smiled, tears still coming down. He leaned forward, planting a gentle kiss to your hand that he was holding. The action made you flush, yet you continued to look at the ninja in front of you. You gently cupped his face in your other hand. You couldn't tell if it was because you were weak or if you had just grown more confident, but you weren't as shy as normal. "Y/N, I am so so so sorry for letting anything bad happen to you. I promise I'll protect you now, with all my being." You smiled sadly, you didn't like the fact that Genji blamed himself and yet you were grateful for his future protection.

"Genji, none of this is your fault. I wandered off on my own, it's alright. I'm safe now with you." You rubbed your thumb softly against his rough cheek. He kissed the side of your hand that was cupping his face, and yet again you flushed. He's never done anything like that; he's never kissed any part of you before. So, a part of you couldn't help but wonder why he did it. Was it just from a place of protectiveness? Or did he truly have feelings for you? "What's important is that everyone else is safe, we saved the city." You spoke up after a moment.

The cyborg merely chuckled weakly, giving your hand yet another kiss. "Y/N, I would let a thousand cities burn to the ground as long as you were safe." He smiled softly, looking at your flustered face. "Sure it's great that we saved everyone…But if you weren't okay, I couldn't live with myself." He explained, but it seemed like he was holding himself back from…what? His cold knuckles rubbed against yours, giving you butterflies.

You smiled as well, and squeezed Genji's hand softly. "Hey..Don't worry about that." You coughed, your torso raising from the bed with the movement. The cyborg's face immediately filled with worry. "I'm safe, you're safe..the people are safe." You reassured him, laying back against the slightly elevated hospital bed.

"Yes but-" He started, but then sooner than he had started, gave up. He shook his head, and with his free hand grabbed the missing part to his helmet. "Get some rest, Y/N. I'll be back, I have some paperwork Jack needs me to fill."

I roll my eyes at the mention, but understand regardless. "Go ahead, I know how strict he can be." You gave a weak chuckle and the ninja before you slowly let go of your hand, as if it pained him to do so. You closed your eyes, falling asleep to the soft hiss of Genji's metallic helmet connecting.

After an hour or so, you woke up to the sound of the door opening. "Genji? Is that you?" You called out quietly, head still feeling groggy from your nap. You heard a feminine laugh, and immediately recognized it as Angela's. You slowly opened your eyes and watched as she put her rubber gloves on.

"Sorry to disappoint, but no, it's not Genji. Just your resident doctor." She smiled, walking over the to monitor you were connected to, looking it over.

You blushed lightly and shook your head. "I didn't mean to look disappointed, he just…said he'll be back." You said, feeling a bit stupid for expecting him to be back this soon. "He's probably busy still.." You mumbled, trying to make yourself feel better.

Angela looked down on you and checked your head wound, smiling softly. "Don't worry Y/N, he'll be back. Jack is..upset that he ran off to find you." You tilted your head a bit. "No- No don't do that please, I need to make sure your wound isn't infected." You moved your head back, but still had many questions.

"I don't understand, why would Jack be upset at that? Doesn't he always want to save as many people as possible?" You asked, confused. You saw Angela take a deep breath out of the corner of your eye before she seemingly made up her mind.

"When we couldn't find you, we all assumed you were dead. We were given direct orders to report straight back, as there was word that there was an emergency somewhere else. Luckily some other agents were free so they got there in time, but Genji insisted on staying and looking for you. We were all heartbroken, really, but Genji…He really didn't seem like he'd live without you." She confessed, turning back to her counter with medical supplies. "Young love, right?" She joked, trying to lighten the mood.

You were stunned, and didn't say a word. 'Young love?' You thought. 'Does he..really care about me like that?' You asked yourself, thinking it was way too good to be true. But how could you ignore the obvious signs any longer? As you were overthinking your crush on the cyborg, Angela had some good news.

"You should be able to leave tomorrow. Of course you won't be able to walk, and you can't go on any missions with us, but you won't be confined to this 'hospital' for long." She smiled. "Genji has already volunteered to be your personal nurse, seems to think he can do a better job than me, but I'm sure you'll be fine on your own. We all know you're a fighter, Y/N."

You thanked her and appreciated the compliments, but you were obviously preoccupied. By mere coincidence, someone knocked on the door about five minutes after Angela knocked. "Come in!" You called, flicking through the channels of the T.V in the room. Genji emerged from the door, holding a small bouquet of flowers. You smiled seeing him, along with the nice gift. "Aww Genji, you didn't have to." You said.

His robotic chuckle emerged from the mask, and he closed the door behind him. "I've wanted to give them to you for a while, actually. So yes, it was very necessary." You couldn't see him, but from his tone of voice you can tell that he smiled. He sat back down on the chair next to your bed, putting the flowers on a nearby table. You two sat in silence for a bit before you spoke up.

"Genji..You've been really sweet to me today. First with saving me-" You started.

"Technically that was yesterday." He chimed in.

You rolled your eyes with a smile. "Oh hush, you know what I mean. What I'm trying to say- Or ask, rather is…Do you..have feelings for me? Maybe I'm reading this all wrong but you kept kissing my hands and got me flowers and-" You started going on a nervous ramble, hoping that something made sense and if you were wrong Genji didn't hate you. You were so nervous, in fact, that you didn't hear his helmet disconnect. In a moment's notice, Genji was mere inches from your face.

He smiled, and nodded his head. One of his hands grabbed your own, while the other tucked your hair behind your ear. "Of course I do, Y/N. How could I not? I really do care for you, and want to have a relationship with you." He kissed your forehead softly. "I'm sorry I waited this long to tell you, I just didn't want to ruin things. I thought maybe you had someone else.."

At that you chuckled, and shook your head. "No, Genji, nobody else. Nobody else but you." You leaned your face closer to the other, neither of you connecting your lips yet.

"May I kiss you?" Genji asked, voice a whisper as if he's scared that he'll ruin the mood.

"Of course you may." You answered, and just melted feeling Genji's lips on yours. There were a few scars around his mouth, but you knew that and it felt surprisingly nice. It was like a perfect moment, one that the two of you were dreaming about forever. After a moment you pulled away, wrapping your arms around Genji. "I love you, so much Genji." You admitted with the biggest smile on your face.

"I love you too, Y/N." He said, with an equally big smile on his face.

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camatchoum · 9 months

Text

What about us...

Timothée Chalamet x reader

Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Summary : You and Timothée are dating in secret. You both want to keep the privacy. But what will happen when his PR team has a new great idea?

Words : 6.4K

Disclaimer: Sorry if there are any faults, english isn't my first language. Absolutely no hate to Kylie or their couple. That's just for the story. Hope you enjoy this final part.

My masterlist

You spent a wonderful week with Timothée. There were no fake dates on the calendar. Of course, you couldn’t really go outside, not often at least or not without being disguised, but it was like before, so it didn’t bother you at all. You still went on walks, and you even went to the movies to see the new Hunger games. All you could say is that you weren’t sure if Snow was really that bad after all, but you are afraid it’s only because Tom Blyth is really cute. That didn’t make Timothée happy, so of course you liked to tease mister jealous about it.

You two were currently at the airport waiting for both Tom and Zendaya. Nobody recognised him. I mean, it’s not that hard to hide, and just in case you weren’t cuddling or anything. You did that when you were on the plane. It happened only one time when one person recognised him but everyone thought you were his secretary or someone “not important”.

“Y/N!!!!” You hear someone scream. And you recognised Zendaya and Tom both with caps and sunglasses who were running to you. You are nearly knocked over when she finally puts her arms around you.

“Oh my god, Z!!!” You laugh. You give her a big hug, then you do the same to Tom. “It’s a wonder how we manage to stay incognito with the two of you screaming like this” everybody shares a laugh before you and Timothée take your suitcases and follow Tom and Zendaya to Tom’s car. When you were about to go in, Timothée got a call from his manager, so you waited for him.

“F*ck ! Why right now?!” he swears quietly.

“What? What happened? “ You ask, and all three of you look up at him.

“Jack just told me that I have to go wait for Kylie’s private jet to land.” He looks directly at you, knowing you wouldn’t like that. But he doesn’t like this either. He wants to spend much more time with you.

“Okay you go do that.” You tell him with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. He knows that, he can see it.

“I’m really sorry, mon cœur. I promise it will be over very soon and I’ll join you later so we can visit a little bit of the city.”

“Yeah okay” you mumble, causing him to sigh. He takes you in his arms, and you reciprocate the hug.

“I love you” he kisses your head.

“I love you too”

You don’t look at him when he takes his suitcase and goes back inside the airport, without his disguise this time. People have to see him with his girlfriend anyway. You don’t know if you are overreacting or not. It’s just that you were supposed to spend time with him in Brazil, a country where both of you never went. You know it’s not because last week nothing happened that this PR idea was over. But a part of you wanted to believe it anyway. Just two weeks right? You sigh loudly and then recompose yourself. Two weeks and your boyfriend is completely yours again, and the world will finally know.

You turn around and go inside Tom’s car, with him being in the driver’s seat and Z right next to him. You go on the back seat and buckle your belt. When you finally look up, you see the both of them looking at you with a look between concern and compassion.

“What?” you say. They look at each other before looking back at you.

“Are you okay?” Tom asks.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Y/n...”

“He promised that he’ll be joining me later to visit the city, so that’s fine” you cut her off. Not wanting to talk about it. You have to see the positive.

You then look at the window, silently telling them you are done with this conversation. They look at each other again before Tom starts the car. Zendaya puts on some music. A good Rihanna blasts inside the car, and you get your smile on your face. You don’t want to be too moody and you want to have a good time with your friends. You don’t see them very often, after all.

The three of you first went to the hotel to get rid of all your stuff. You were supposed to take a quick nap after the early morning you just pulled off, but you were too excited to wait any longer. So you immediately changed into something a little more convenient for the weather and went out. You spend the entire afternoon just exploring the city. Of course, you had to try a snack or two, and it was so delicious. You even took a lot of pictures.

You didn’t want to, but you spent a lot of time checking your phone for Timothée to text you that he was coming, which never happened. It was dinner time when you said to Tom and Z that you were going back to the hotel. You wanted to go wait for Timothée so that you could eat together. And you knew that they wanted a little moment for themselves.

And now here you are, sitting on the double bed. Waiting for your boyfriend to come so you can both go out again.

And you wait, and wait, and wait again. When the clock hits 9pm, you decide to stop having hope. You change into your pyjamas and just scroll on your phone. You want to call Z to talk, but you don’t want to be a bother in their date.

It is 10 pm when the door of your hotel room opens. You told him that you would leave a key at the reception for him. You look up from your phone. Timothée closes the door, and when he finally turns around, you can see his guilty face. At least he knows he fuckep up.

“Hey...” He approaches you and sits on the bed right next to your laying form. He lifts his hand like he wants to touch you, but he drops it with a sigh.

“I know what you are going to say. Don’t worry about it.” You say with your eyes down.

“You and I both know it’s not okay”

“Yeah I know. And I’m glad you know too. You promised you will be there. I don’t even understand how it took you so long just to see her at her jet.”

“I really thought it would be just waiting for her and like carrying her luggage while people watched us.” He pauses for a moment. “But Jack had other plans for us. They wanted us to go around a few spots in the city. I suppose you saw my stories on Instagram.” You did. They were of a few places in the city, and in some of them, you could see Kylie’s silhouette. That definitely made the fans crazy. “Since tomorrow is the convention, they wanted us to take a lot of pictures to post later. I don’t even remember how many times I had to change, so people would think we are on vacation.” He looks at you for a reaction. You don’t say anything. He already knows what you are feeling. “I also had a little talk with Jack and Linda that tomorrow we are going official”

“How?”

“After the panel, they want me to like go off stage and hug her. And while doing so, she will say that she loves me and the mic will catch it so everybody can hear.”

“That will make them lose their minds.”

“Yeah pretty much.” He chuckles with a hint of sadness. “I’m sorry for everything. You know if I could I would have spent the day with you.”

“I know that. It’s just so frustrating. I don’t know if I can go on like this much longer.” You say while playing with his fingers.

“I told you that it’s all going to end soon. I don’t think there will be too much left after that. The Wonka premiere is in two weeks, and I think they planned for us just to post the pictures that we took together. And then I’ll delete them all, and people will think it’s over.”

“Okay. I hope you are right.”

And with that, he goes to change before joining you on the bed. He puts on The Lion King because he knows it’s a comfort movie for you. You were cuddling into him when you heard his soft snores. You aren’t feeling sleepy like him. You are too afraid for that. Afraid of what’s going to happen tomorrow. Afraid of seeing her telling him that she loves him and him saying it back. He wasn’t supposed to, but you couldn’t shake the thought out of your head. And what will people think anyway? What if they liked your boyfriend with her and two weeks later he showed up with you at the premiere? You will certainly get a lot of hate for “breaking them”. You finally drift into unconsciousness due to exhaustion.

The next morning, you woke up and got ready to go to the convention. Jack already gave the pass to Timothée yesterday. When he emerges from the bathroom, he sees you waiting for him at the door. He can see that you are lost in your head, probably thinking of what’s about to occur today. Of course, he understands why. He doesn’t need to be a genius to know that this whole situation is hurting you. It all will be worth it when you’ll be on his arm in two weeks.

“Hey Y/n?” You come out of your daydreaming session to see Timothée walking to you. “Do you think you could tell your head to stop saying bad things to you. It’s really pretty, but sometimes it needs to shut up.” He grins and opens his arms. You roll your eyes.

“Well it would stop if my curly head didn’t agree to this thing” you say with sarcasm. Of course you knew that he didn’t have a choice. He stings his tongue at you.

“What’s on your mind right now?”

“You know what. Remember the rule?”

“Yep no kissing on the lips. I can assure you I want yours and only yours” he says and kisses you. “I. Only. Want. Those. Sweet. Puffy. Lips” he says with a kiss between each word.

“Okay okay stop it now.” You giggle. “Come on, I want to see what outfit they prepared for you.”

And you both go downstairs to catch up with your best friends before you go into the cars. Zendaya and Timothée in one and Tom and you in the other one. There will be fans waiting for their entry, and while you couldn’t be seen for obvious reasons, Tom doesn’t like unnecessary attention, so he will stay hidden with you.

When you arrive, you go with Tom to do a little walk before the panel. See the place while Z and Timothée are in the dressing rooms with Florence and Austin. And you suppose Kylie is there too. When it was time for you to go back to the panel, you both took your seats. It wasn’t too far but not in the middle either.

Music begins to be heard, and the people start to scream like crazy. You are really wondering if your ears won’t try to fund a way to fall off your body to survive.

And soon enough, the panel begins with DenisVilleneuve join soon enough by Austin, Florence, and Zendaya. She wears a white dress that makes her look divine. Well, you think that’s a good way to describe her since that’s the word that felt from Tom’s lips when he saw her. Of course, you agree with him. You tease him about it, but shut your mouth pretty fast when Timothée walks on stage.

“Woaw” you whisper.

“Now I think we can both agree that I’m not the only whipped person here.” Tom grins.

“Oh shut up” you both laugh.

You listen to everybody on stage talk about the movie and its production, the process of everything. You, of course, are listening very closely. You are obviously a fan of your boyfriend, but you also loved Dune part 1. It is really the kind of movie you love to watch. You are so excited when they let you watch the first 10 minutes of the movie. I'm so excited that Tom has to use all his strength, so you will stop gripping his arm like a maniac. When the clip is over and the questions from the fans begin to be asked, you remember what was about to happen. The panel will be over soon, and so will the world know about them. You start to feel nervous so you try to relax a little. Everything is going to be okay. Everything is going to go as planned.

The audience starts to clap loudly, and you realise the panel is ending. You can feel your heart beats loudly in your chest. You see Denis, Austin, Florence, and Z walk out before Timothée follows them. From here, you can see Kylie jumping into his arms. They are in the perfect place, hide enough so the fans think they aren’t supposed to see them, but not hide enough so not even one person can’t see them. They both hug pretty tightly, and then they loosen a little to look at each other.

“I love you” Kylie says. And like planned, the mic catches it and everybody starts to scream. They act like they are in shock, but when the screams got louder that’s your mouth that opens wide.

They are kissing. On the lips. They. Are. Kissing. On. The. Lips. The only rule was no kissing on the lips. And yet, right now, her lips are on his. You feel the tears in your eyes, and before you can see much longer, you run to the exit.

What you didn’t see is Timothée pushing her away immediately. He’s looking at her with disbelief. And when they go in the back, he takes Kylie’s hand to take her to his dressing room before shutting the door.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” he screams at her. He is just so angry. He knows you saw it, he knows it was like a sacred rule. And he’s so angry because when he looked for you he only found Tom looking in every directions to find you.

“What the fuck is wrong with YOU?! Why did you do that?! It was all planned remember” Kylie strikes back.

“This freaking kiss wasn’t!”

“Well I was feeling the moment, and I felt like we needed to kiss. What’s the big deal anyway?”

“The problem is that I have a girlfriend, and the only rule that we had was no kissing!” he said and just storms off. He has to talk to you right now. He can’t even imagine what’s going on inside your head. On his way out, he fell into Zendaya. Who seemed to be looking for him.

“Timothée Hal Chalamet, what did you do?!” She whispers angrily at him. “I just saw Tom's text saying that he can’t find Y/N”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, I swear.” He says, completely desperate. “We were not supposed to kiss, I promised it to her, and now I just broke another one.”

“You better go fix this” it’s all Zendaya says. She don’t want to be mad at him. She knows how hard it’s for him because he can’t control anything while he’s the one that has to do all the reparations.

He just sighs and goes again to the exit. But unfortunately, now it’s both Jack and Linda who stop him.

“What?!” Timothée asks clearly annoyed.

“”First you calm down, and second, we are going to talk about the panel.” Jack says.

“I’m sorry. Can we talk about this later? I really have to do something very important.”

“We can talk about that later if you want.” Timothée feels relieved, but Jack had to open his mouth again. “But we have to talk about our little arrangement.”

“What about it?” Timothée asks. He knows he is talking about the ending part of the plan. He looks at Linda for an answer.

“We decided that we were not going to end anything before Wonka was out.” She tells him, and Timothée’s face becomes pale.

“What do you mean? We had an accord. Everything is ending before the Wonka premiere. I can’t do this anymore, guys.”

“We don’t understand why we couldn't go any longer. If your relationship with Kylie stops here, you could say goodbye to your career. People will definitely know it was just a PR thing, and we are all going to be affected really badly. You can say goodbye to any more roles because even if you are in a new movie, people won’t want to see a liar. Wonka will be a disaster and Dune 2, too.”

“I don’t care. It has to stop.”

“Let me be clear” Jack puts his hands on his shoulders. “You don’t have a choice here. It’s either you continue or you lose everything.” He says sternly.

Timothée shrugs his hands off of him and storms off. He feels so angry but also so desperate to find you. He met with Zendaya and Tom to go back to the hotel. It feels like the longest drive of his life. When they are there, he jumps out of the car and runs to your room.

He opens the door and when he enters the sight before him breaks his heart. You are fully crying on the bed. Your back facing the door. When you hear the door shuts, you turn around. He can see your puffy eyes. You stand up and whip your tears away before walking up to him.

“You promised.” You say sternly. “You promised you would take me from the airport. You promised that we would spend time together to visit the city. You promised you wouldn’t go that far with her.” You aren’t screaming at him. You are stating the facts. What you are saying is that you are hurt by all of this.

“I know, okay. I messed up a lot for the last few months.” He starts crying. “I know how much I’m hurting you, and I can’t do anything about it. I’m just so sorry. I prom- I swear the kiss wasn’t planned. I immediately pulled off of her and took her away. I screamed at her right away, and then I stormed off to get to you.” He sniffles. “It’s killing me that I have to do this, and now that this isn’t ending anymore like I thought it was I-“

“Wait what? You’re telling me that it’s not over?”

“I- I know I promised, and I was so sure it was the end. But Jack told me on my way out that there was no way that we would stop this. They said that if we stop now, then people will find out that it was pur bullshit and that my career will be over.”

“Okay...” You just say. You turn around and take your suitcase out.

“Wait, what are you doing?” He starts to freak out.

“I’m leaving okay.” You state while you begin to pack. He tries to take your arm away from your clothes, but you yank it back before turning to look at him. “I can’t do this anymore, Timmy. I won’t. It’s hurting me too much. And what about us?! We are not really together since this whole thing started. We are hurting too much to go on like this.”

“Don’t talk like that. I know we are hurting, but we can do this. We just go on a little longer, then when it’s over, we can be like before. Just the two of us. I will end everything. I will tell everyone the truth and everything will stop.”

“You can’t do that. You know how much I want this to be over.” You chuckle sadly. You take his hands in both of yours before looking into his eyes. “You know that if you tell the truth, then people will call you a liar. Your career will be over. And if we add me in the equation, everybody will think that you were cheating on Kylie. We would get so much hate. It’s the same outcome either way.”

“Please don’t do this” he pleas. “I can’t live without you.”

“I’m doing this for me, for you. We can’t go on like this. This is breaking us apart. I can’t watch you be with her and wait for you to be with me.”

“I promise I can change.”

“You and I both know that you can’t. I know you want to. I know that every promise that you didn’t keep wasn’t because you didn’t want to do so. But every time, this fake relationship is going to come our way.”

“I’m so in love with you Y/N Y/L/N” he sniffles. He knows he can’t do anything about it. You are putting a stop to this because it hurts the two of you too much.

“And I’m so in love with you too Timothée Chalamet. I will always love you. This isn’t me falling out of love with you. This is me choosing us.” You finish your suitcase before taking everything and going to the door. You turn one last time around to see Timothée watching you. His cheeks are so wet from all the tears that still fall from his red eyes.

“I’m going to miss you.” He says and takes you into his arms. You put your head on his chest, wanting to hear his heartbeat one last time. You don’t want to do this, but you have to.

“I’ll miss you too.” You stand back and finally open the door. You stop and look back at him when he begins to talk again.

“I love you”

“Really really really?” You smile. That is the saddest smile anyone has ever seen.

“Really really really.” He reciprocates it.

“I love you too.”

And with that, you walk out of the room, out of the hotel, and wait for a cab to take you to the airport.

“Y/N!!”, you turn around to see Z. Maybe if you tell the story, people would say that it is Timothée that should be here, running after you. But you are glad he is not. You need to do this for you, and for him, you couldn’t go on like this. And if it was him, you are not sure that your mind will stay put. “Why are you leaving? Are you okay?”

“I think it’s obvious I’m not.”

“What happened?”

“I just can’t do this anymore, Z. I thought that I could handle it but I realised that I can’t. I’m hurting too much.” You start to cry again, and she takes you in her arms. “I just love him so much, but this is not possible.”

“Oh sweetheart. You know I’m with you in this. But are you sure this is the right choice to make?” she looks into your eyes. She can see that you are sure of your decision, but she doesn’t want this to happen. She doesn’t want to see her two best friends drift apart. Of course, she understands you. She probably would have done the same. Maybe she wouldn’t have lasted as long as you. When you are going to answer back, you hear a car horn. You both turn to see a cab. Your cab.

“I have to do this, Z. I can’t watch the love of my life with a girl that’s not me anymore.” You say then take your suitcase and walk to the cab.

“Don’t be a stranger” she calls out.

“I promise” you scream back with a smile. A smile full of tears but still a smile.

When Zendaya goes up to your room, she sees Tom waiting at the door. He was supposed to talk to Timothée while she was downstairs with you.

“Nothing?”

“No, he doesn’t want to open the door. You?”

“She left. She took a taxi to the airport and she’s not coming back.” Zendaya decides to knock on the door. “Timothée? Please let us in. You need to talk about it.”

“I need to be alone so get the fuck away!” Timothée screams trough the door. The couple look at each other before deciding to leave him alone.

Timothée isn’t really happy that he screamed at them like this. But he really needs to be alone to process everything. And yes, he took the overpriced ice cream that was in the minibar.

You left. You really left. He just lost the most important thing in his life. He didn’t go after you because he knew you didn’t want him to. He understands your reasoning. He isn’t mad at you for not trying any longer. How could he even think about being mad at you? You are right. This situation can’t go on any longer. He knows that you were hurting too much by this. He thinks that the only thing he wishes is that you saw the way he was hurting, too. He knows it’s not the same, but being forced to do something you don’t want to is horrible. He didn’t want to do this. At first, he only did it to protect you and himself from all the hate. Now he knows that it took proportions that were too big because he knows that you didn’t give up just because it was a little too difficult.

Every time he was with his fake girlfriend, he felt bad. He felt trapped. He felt like a puppet on a string being manipulated by the PR teams and his manager and even by the public. He didn’t have a choice about what he had to do or say or even think. Nobody wants to be held against their will. He feels so trapped in all this bullshit that he doesn’t know how to get away from it.

Days begin to pass, Timothée is back in LA, and the Wonka premiere is tomorrow night. The only thing he knows for now is that he needs to get you back. He thinks you both needed a little time to calm down to ease your minds. But now it’s over, and he will make sure you are both together again. He can’t lose you because he needs you in his life. You bring him so much joy and peace. You bring him comfort every day. He can’t lose all of it. He won’t.

He knows that in order for the bullshit to stop, he needs to go against his manager and his PR team. He needs to tell the world the truth. But if he does so, he will probably lose everything. Not everything because you are his everything to him. But he can say goodbye to his career.

Just when he was about to ask himself if it was worth it, he shut himself up. Of course, it is worth it, your freaking dumbass. He would lose everything if it meant he could be with you forever. Okay, he needs to fix everything NOW.

With this new mindset Timothée jumps out of bed. He is so excited to get you back that his foot gets caught in his sheets, and he falls. He stood up immediately. He couldn’t care less about the pain. He needs to move and fast. The Wonka world premiere is tomorrow, and with the fact that he needs to fly to your home first, then he needs to think of the time it takes to fly to London. Not to mention that it’s already dark outside. He doesn’t stress. He will miss the premiere if he has to.

He takes his phone, unlocking it for the first time since he came back from Brazil. He didn’t want to tall to anyone. No, he didn’t post the pictures with Kylie. Yes, his manager wasn’t happy. He will be even angrier tomorrow anyway. He only checked his phone to see if you sent him anything. You sent nothing, and that’s okay.

He is out of the house in one hour. The time he took to clean himself up, bought his ticket and made his suitcase. While he is waiting for the boarding to begin, he calls Jack.

“Mr Timothée Chalamet. I hope you have a good excuse for what you did. What you didn’t do, actually.” Jack answers immediately, clearly angry at the actor.

“I have a really good one, actually.” Timothée answers with a smile a little too big.

“Well my ears are wide open.” Jack says, annoyed.

“I’m just not doing your fake relationship anymore. It’s over Jack. Tomorrow night, I will be at the premier without Kylie, and that’s final.”

“Absolutely not. You are going with Kylie, and you will play loverboy until I decide it’s over. You don’t have a choice.”

“Actually, I have a choice, and I choose to stop.”

“That’s it I’m not working with you anymore, you fucking-“

“Yeah great bye.” Timothée hangs up the phone. He doesn’t need to hear Jack’s annoying voice anymore. Nobody does anyway.

He texts Kylie’s team to tell them that it’s not necessary to come tomorrow. His flight is ready to start the boarding, but he quickly taps something on his phone before putting it in his bag and walking to his flight. Full with confidence.

T- I’m getting her back.

Z- Took you long enough dumbass. Now go get your girl.

Now that he is standing in front of your door, he wonders if he shouldn’t have prepared a little speech. His confidence is long gone by now. He don’t know what to do. Does he knock on the door? Well it’s a stupid question because he will have to do it. Otherwise, you won’t answer. But what if you aren’t answering? Maybe you’ll see his face then decide not to open the door. Maybe you’ll not even hear that he is there. Well, you are a light sleeper, so maybe you will wake up. Are you even asleep right now? Maybe he should go and come back later. Yeah, that’s actually a pretty good id-

“Timothée?” he jumps at your voice. When he looks at the door, you are right in the doorway dressed in your pyjamas with a tired face and messy hair. At that moment he couldn’t find something more beautiful than you.

“Y-Y-Y/n. What’s up?” What’s up?! That’s what he has to say?! What is he doing?!

“Well I just woke up, and I saw you doing circles in front of my house.” He can’t say what you are feeling right now. You don’t seem angry, which is great, but you don’t seem happy either. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk with you. Can you let me in?” You ponder for a moment, but let him in anyway.

“Do you want a drink or something?” You ask when you come back from getting a hoodie. It is one of his. He wants to feel hope, but he also doesn’t want to jump to a conclusion.

“A coffee would be nice. I spent the whole night in the airport.”

“Yeah I’m sure it was pretty long. Don’t you have a premiere to intend tonight? Shouldn’t you be in London right now?”

“I couldn’t go without my girl.” This causes you to stop pouring him his coffee. “Y/n-“

“No. You know it’s impossible. We-we can’t.” Your hands start to tremble, so he takes them in his. At this, you look into his eyes. Those beautiful eyes that you missed so much.

“Y/n it's over. I ended it. I came here to take you with me to the premiere tonight. I want to spend this evening with you and make it unique. Because every moment I spend with you is unique.” He says in a sweet voice.

“How can I trust you? Is it really over?” Your eyes are glowing with your tears that are threatening to fall.

“Do you still love me?” He couldn’t help but hold his breath. He knows you said that you will always live him, and you left not too long ago even if it felt like eternity.

“Of course I do. How could I stop?” You smile, and he smiles back.

“I love you too. And that’s why you should trust me when I say to you that there isn’t a fake relationship in the way. And if you don’t trust me with this-“ He lets go of one of your hands to take his phone. He unlocks it, and you cloud see a picture where the two of you make silly faces. He goes into his call app. “-this is how my phone looks right now. And it won’t stop.”

You can see that he got a tone of phone calls. Some are from his manager, others are from his PR team and even some from Kylie’s. And when you see the messages that he got as well. All of them were in bold and with a lot of punctuation.

“I think that Jack isn’t really happy.” You say with a chuckle.

“You really think? Maybe that is his way of telling me thank you for all the great years.” He chuckles too, and this time you laugh. He can’t stop his smile from growing. “So what do you say? Do you want to come with me tonight?”

“Wait. Do you want me to accept a demand so unofficial like this?” You tease. He rolls his eyes before looking inside one of your cupboards and takes something out. He goes down on one knee.

“Miss Y/N Y/L/N, the queen in my world, would you do me the greatest honor to come with me tonight as my most beautiful date to the Wonka premiere in London?” He opens his hands and offers you one of your favourite chocolate.

“Well, you know I’m a very busy woman, but I think that I can clear my schedule for you.” You both laugh.

He stands back up and takes you into a bone crushing hug. You are both laughing before the tears take over. They are happy tears.

“I’m missed you so much. You don’t know how much I’m happy that I got you back.” He mumbles into your hair.

“I missed you too. So much. I’m so glad you came. Life is so hard without you.” You sniffles. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He slightly pulls away to look at your face then at your lips. And before you know it you are kissing soflty. A kiss full of love. But you pull away suddenly with a gasp. “What? What is it?”

“I don’t an outfit for tonight.” You begin to panic. “And how are we going to be here on time. London is too far you are going to be late for your own movie.”

“If we go in the next hour, we can be on time and all glamed up. I took care of that for you. You are going to make people so jealous, I promise.” He calms you down, and when he finishes his sentence, you run into your house, packing everything.

Timothée watches you doing so. He tries to help you, but you shut him up, so he just sits on the couch until you are ready to go. He can’t stop smiling. He can’t believe he got you back, and this time, he will make sure you don’t even think about leaving him.

Hours later, you are both all dressed up riding in the backseat of a black car that is taking you to the place of the premiere. The outfit Timothée wears is incredible. You are so in love with the necklace. Yours is pretty good, too. It is gorgeous actually and Wonka themed. It is perfect.

“Can you stop with your leg mon cœur? You are making the whole car shake.” Timothée says while putting his hand on your bouncing knee.

“Sorry.” You chuckle. “I’m so nervous. What if people’s don’t like me or throw things at me? And what about the questions?”

“Don’t worry about anything. If they don’t like you it’s their lost. I don’t care because I have you, and I want you here with me on my arm. And can tell you that no one will throw something at you. And if you don’t believe me, I promise I will stand in the way to protect you.”

“You’ll do that for me?” You both laugh before he looks into your eyes.

“I’ll do anything for you.” And you know that he means it.

When the car comes to a stop, your stress comes back up again. Timothée takes your hand and squeezes it, telling you that he was there for you. You nod to him, and he walks out of the car. You can hear the fans screaming like crazy. He goes on your side and opens your door for you before taking your hand in his. When you walk out, you are met with a lot of flashes and a lot of screams as well. People don’t know you, but seeing someone new at Timothée’s arm made them wild. And so the evening begins, you watch the love of your love doing what he loves. He signs pictures, posters, and some crazy things you don’t even understand why, but it makes you laugh. People are asking about you, and each time Timothée answers that you are his real girlfriend. He even goes all to the way, saying that the thing with Kylie was all fake. You were afraid of what people would think, but all the responses you got are pretty great. When you both start to stand on the carpet in front of all the photographs, you are blinded by the lights and slightly put your head on his shoulder. He chuckles slightly before looking at you, is eyes full of love.

“I love you.” He says.

“Really really really?” You ask with a big smile that is contagious.

“Really really really.”

And you knew from that moment that everything would be okay. You both have each other, and that’s all that matters.

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

The end of the series. I'm sorry it was so long, but I really wanted it to be in three parts so that the titles would match.

Hope you enjoyed it.

#timothée chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet #timothée chalamet fanfic #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet x y/n #timothée chalamet x you

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