#but my roommate wants their lamp back from the living room and to share the cost of the couch (this one’s fair! i agree!) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

todayisawthewhxlewxrld · 4 months

Note

Ok. I have a request took me a lot of courage to finally request and shat myself a couple times but anyway! A one shot where choso lives in y/ns dorm with them and he was like doing his hair and kept messing up and gave up and started crying (I FEEL LIKE THATS SOMETHING HED DO THE POOR BOY:() thennnn y/n walks in their dorm and sees him crying and then comforts him and does his hair for him!!

IF THAT AIN'T LOVE THEN I DON'T KNOW WHAT LOVE IS!

synopsis// choso is having an off day.

➚ pairing// choso x gn!reader ➚ word count// 1.4k

contents// frustrated/sad choso? idk just some hurt/comfort in a way! fluff?? could be read as either platonic or romantic doesnt really matter i supposeeee? i think it kinda reads more romantic tho

notes// anon ur actual fucking MIND. i was moved. literally right after reading ur request i opened up my notes and went to fucking WORKKK!!!! anyway sorry its so kinda all over the place but i hope u like it and it lived up to ur expectations!! n also sorry to everyone else for posting a oneshot mid smau its short n cute okay (AND ITS FUCKING CHOSO SO LIKE CMON???) i couldnt help myself !! also the title is lyrics from cupid's chokehold by gym class heroes... okay bye!

Sharing a dorm with Choso was heavenly.

Because of your conflicting schedules, half the time, you rarely actually saw each other. But even when you did, he was the type of roommate to keep to himself; he has his side of the room, and you have yours. Of course, you two talked here and there; he was actually pretty nice company whenever you two were actually in the room at the same time. But more often than not, the only time you would see him was late at night when you were just getting in to go to sleep.

Either way, the point is, you never really saw him around much. Choso was always quick and effective, so by the time you would head back to your dorm after a few of your classes, he would just be heading out or have already left.

Usually, his alarm would go off an hour before his classes, which is ample time for him. He’s done his routine hundreds of times before—doing his hair and eyeliner is practically muscle memory, and at this point he's sure he could do it in his sleep. but not today, apparently. Today his alarm goes off late—half an hour late. Which Choso isn’t panicked by, only slightly frustrated, but it's fine. That still leaves him another half an hour to get ready, so there's still plenty of time given that it only takes him 10–15 minutes to get ready, so it's fine. Everything is fine; he repeats it in his head like a mantra, like if he thinks it and says it enough, he’ll actually believe it.

Choso quickly dresses, then sits at his desk, where a little mirror sits. He sighs as he flips on a lamp and grabs his eyeliner. He doesn’t even have to think about it, instinctively taking the cap off and bringing it to his eye, only for it to crumble as it meets his waterline. Choso cusses under his breath as he blinks, attempting to get whatever fell into his eye out. When that doesn't work, he rubs his eye, only for it to spread eyeliner all across his eye and cheek. He groans, grabbing a cloth to wipe it off with, and once his face is clean, he doesn't even bother trying with his eyeliner again—looking at the time, he’s already wasted more than he wanted doing that. He’ll just do his hair and leave, or else he’ll be late.

Choso stills for a moment, forcing himself to take a deep breath to try and calm the nerves and frustration simmering beneath his skin—it's fine. He nods. Now somewhat calmer, he grabs his hair ties and gets to work… only for one of them to break as he’s trying to put his hair through it. Choso stares at himself in the mirror, eyes narrowed and swallowing harshly, as he desperately tries to ignore the rising heat going to his cheeks.

Whatever.

It's fine.

He’ll just do the other side of his hair...only for the same thing to happen. Choso can actively feel his heart racing—it's pounding against his chest and ringing in his ears—and he’s already too far gone to notice or even stop the tears from falling down his cheeks. He doesn’t really know why he’s actually crying, if he’s being honest. It’s not like this is the end of the world; he knows that, yet he can't stop himself. Too many things have gone wrong, and he’s barely woken up. First, his alarm goes off late, which isn't the most horrible thing within itself, but then his eyeliner crumbles and gets in his eye, and when he tries to wipe it away, it instead smears on his face. Then he rubs his face raw, trying to get it off, and now he can't do his fucking hair because his hair ties suddenly decided to disintegrate and snap in half.

He messily wipes at his tears and tries inhaling deeply for air in a feeble attempt to calm himself the tiniest bit down. It doesn't do anything. In fact, it makes things worse. His tears fall harder, and he’s choking in shallow breaths of air. If anyone walked in right this moment, they’d think something horrible happened, like one of his brothers died. and it's just his luck, or a very obvious lack thereof, when you walk in. Choso immediately starts scrambling to wipe his tears away and hide his face from you as you drop your things in shock—you hadn’t expected him to still be in the dorm, let alone be here crying.

“Holy shit, Choso, are you okay? What's wrong? Did something happen?” You panic, immediately running to his side.

He doesn’t say anything; he just takes in and lets out shaky breaths as he shakes his head, one arm outstretched to keep you at arm's length.

You frown and look around. For what? You’re not sure. Part of you thinks if you look hard enough, you'll find why he’s crying, but all you see are snapped hair ties, a crumbled, unsharpened eyeliner pencil, and a cloth full of eyeliner. That’s when it all starts to make sense. You smile softly at him, who's still hiding his red tear-stained face from you, before you grab his comb and a new pair of hair ties from his desk.

Choso doesn’t know what you're doing when he hears you shuffling around, and he refuses to meet your gaze, filled to the brim with embarrassment at having been caught crying, but his head involuntarily snaps up, looking at you through the mirror, when he feels you start to brush his hair. You're already staring back at him and flashing him a warm smile, not saying a word as you continue to detangle his hair.

“You don't have to do this,” he sniffles, finally calming down enough to say something.

"I know I don't," you shrug. "But I also know it sucks when it seems like nothing is working or going to plan, so..."

"I can do it myself-“

"Choso, just let me do this for you, please.”

He stares at you for a moment, studying your face as if trying to find something, and when he finds nothing but your soft eyes and willingness—your desire—to do this for him, he sighs and nods. You beam and gleefully get back to work on his hair, and Choso finds that he’s no longer embarrassed by being seen crying but rather by the fact he feels like a doll—but the worst part? It's kind of nice.

He likes having someone do this for him with no hesitation; he likes the way your fingers carefully rake through his hair to ensure there's no tangles even though you just combed it; he likes the way you don't tie the ponytails too tight like he usually does, which only results in a pounding headache he can't get rid of; he likes all of it.

He likes all of it so much so that he finds himself closing his eyes in complete bliss, drowning in your gentle touches. You poof up one of his ponytails a bit, ready to tell him you're done, when you look into the mirror and notice his eyes closed, looking like he’s in a whole other world. You can't fight your smile off as you play with his ponytail for a bit longer before slowly wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his shoulder.

“What do you think?” You whisper, your breath softly fanning against his ear.

Choso opens his eyes, surprised to see you pretty much hugging him from behind, yet he doesn't hate it, not one bit. Too caught up about how much he does not hate this; he doesn't respond, and it makes you nervous.

“Sorry… I know they don't look exactly like how you usually do them, but-“

"No, no,” he cuts you off quickly. “They look amazing... Thank you, y/n...”

You smile, happy with his answer, as you untangle yourself from him and stand up. “You should head out now, Choso; you're late.”

He blinks, totally forgetting about class, and hurriedly stands up. "Right, thank you again,” is all he’s saying before rushing out the door.

You giggle slightly before yawning and making your way to your bed, ready for your usual nap, when Choso comes rushing back into the dorm again. You stare at him wide-eyed, and he simply stares back.

You furrow your eyebrows, confused, and are about to ask if he's okay when suddenly he blurts out:

"I wouldn’t mind if you did my hair again.”

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

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babyboiboyega · 10 months

Text

Short on Time (Hobie Brown x F!Reader)

Hobie Brown x f!reader

Summary: Hobie has a weird way of convincing you to sneak out to the roof despite your roommate being home…

Word Count: 7.3k

Content: nothing but fluff, the very real and very apparent fact that I have an unhealthy obsession with this man, Hobie being an incredibly loveable and hilarious menace, horrible cockney/british slang, a bit of profanity, some rough writing bc it’s been a while

Inspo: All I Wanted - Paramore (paramore never misses)

A/N: heyyyy! Enjoy this Hobie Brown oneshot that took me too long to complete but I absolutely loved writing <3

TAGLIST FORM

The sunset lamp in the corner of your room cast varying hues of purple and blue across the walls of the room, bouncing off of the numerous glass trays and items dotted throughout it. It provided a good backdrop for a night of nothing but deep breaths, slowed thoughts, and mere relaxation- and you were adamant about experiencing all of those and more of the same sentiment.

It was just…a little hard to do so when the sounds of unhinged and drunken laughter floated from your shared living room and right through your door, effectively putting your plans of relaxation on hold.

After an entire week of completing assignments and dealing with people who were less-than-pleasant, lacked common sense, and just made everything harder, all you wanted to do was something that required minimal thinking and produced the most amounts of serotonin; But it seemed as if that would be next to impossible.

You dropped your head onto the wooden surface of your desk, your third groan in the last 10 minutes leaving your mouth and joining another chorus of laughter from the living room. Your eyes closed tightly while you blindly reached for your phone, intent on turning your music to the max volume. Your roommate and her friend would be able to hear it, and your neighbors would be able to feel it, but you were desperate. That desperation only grew as your fingers closed around nothing but air.

With furrowed eyebrows, you lifted your head and look to the spot where you could’ve sworn you put it-

“You’ve got an ace personality, love, but rubbish taste in music.”

The voice was as familiar as ever, but the suddenness of it appearing in your room made you jump slightly, your body rocking back in your chair. Your mouth opened on a yelp as you felt the front two legs of your chair lift off of the ground, and just as your arms instinctively reached out to grab onto something, you felt a slight push to the back of your chair.

“Jesus-!”

“Far from it, actually.” You heard the amusement in Hobie’s voice before you turned to face him, your heart beating rapidly because of his sudden appearance…and because of him in general.

His smile was familiar, as was his tendency to just show up at your window…or in your room, as was the case tonight. Despite knowing that he could just pop up at any time, there were still a number of times when he had managed to sneak up on you.

Your room seemed smaller as his lanky frame walked further in, his eyes focused on your phone in his hand as he continued to hit the skip button. With furrowed eyebrows and a breath of exasperation, you stood up, quickly reaching for your phone only for his arm to raise.

“Not you breaking into my room and insulting my music taste- all in one night. Hobie, gimme my-”

“Now, wait a minute, love, you know I’m only jokin’.” He replied, his smile widening as he watched amusedly while you raised yourself in an attempt to grab your phone. It was no use, as he effortlessly towered over you, and judging by the smile on his face, he was enjoying the sight.

“This the playlist we listened to ‘round last week, yeah?”

Your movements paused at the mention of the playlist currently pulled up on your phone, and at the memory of you two sitting in the same room the week before, listening to the same music. It had been a rather uneventful day for Hobie, or Spider-Man, but your day had been the exact opposite: hectic and so busy that you’d had no energy to do anything but sit at the head of your bed and talk with him about any and everything- at least until you had fallen asleep, propped up against your headboard, your head tilted back.

That had been last week and since then, you hadn’t seen the lanky, eccentric man. Well, you had seen him on the news and on the internet, but only as Spider-Man; you had seen him enough times to know that the reason for his lack of visits was because of his ‘job’ as the city’s mostly friendly, ‘take no shit’ Spider-Man.

But now he was here, and his presence was already making up for those days you had gone without being able to see him.

“The same one, yes. Why? You tellin’ me I converted you to neo-soul?” Your eyebrow raised as you finally gave up on trying to get your phone, your arms falling only to cross in front of your chest. The corner of your mouth lifted into a knowing smile as you watched his eyes scan the screen of your phone while the next song played. His lips pursed slightly as his eyes met yours.

“I’m tellin’ you…that you could have worse taste.”

It was slightly laughable knowing that even if he had liked a few songs from the playlist, he’d make sure to keep it to himself…at least as a facade. Despite his very different taste in music, there had been a few songs that he had listened to simply because you had asked him to, and he’d had no problem letting you know that he had liked them. But occasionally, he liked to put on the ‘my music is better’ facade, and you entertained it every time.

“You didn’t even say hey to me or nothin’; just came in being a straight menace.”

A laugh left his mouth as he finally handed your phone back to you, a song that he had previously stated was ‘okay’ coincidentally playing through your speakers. You didn’t make a move to change it. In fact, your phone was all but forgotten as he gazed down at you, an easygoing smile on his face.

“You sure about that? I could’ve sworn I said hi when I got here-”

“No, you did not, and you know you didn’t-”

A peal of laughter floated through your bedroom door, and it only served as a reminder of the night’s events leading up to this point. Your shoulders sagged slightly at the sound, and only sagged more as you internally chastised yourself.

It wasn’t your roommate's fault that you’d had a shitty week and couldn’t seem to relax, and you couldn’t exactly be mad that they were having fun and enjoying their Friday night…

They could be a little quieter though.

Hobie could see it as clear as day on your face, your internal struggle and frustration. It made his smile drop slightly, though it still remained in place and only softened in response. His lanky frame sat on the edge of your windowsill, his legs extending straight in front of him and his arms crossing. His posture expressed nonchalance- indifference, even; but his eyes and his expression showed exactly how attentive he was when it came to you.

“You look rather brassed off. Wanna talk about it?”

Did you want to talk about it? Or would you rather indulge in Hobie’s regular antics in an effort to forget about your own list of shortcomings spanning the week? On one hand, you’d never grow tired of his random tales of breaking past riot police’s defenses or interrupting the most recent, half-assed charity speech done by a corrupt politician. Each account would end with you slightly chastising him for doing something that bordered the definition of dangerous, and each time, he’d only respond with a cheeky grin and a not-so-subtle attempt at changing the subject. Regardless of how many times it happened, you still couldn’t deny the fact that you loved every single one of your conversations.

“Nah. ‘S just the regular.” You start, joining him on the windowsill with a sigh. It wasn’t lost on you that with only a glance, Hobie knew the state of mind you were in; this time was only a reminder that he possessed that ability, as he had done it multiple times before. He had a talent for exuding the chillest, most indifferent demeanor, but when it had come down to it, he had been there when you needed him. Now was no different.

Instead of leaving your answer as it was, he simply turned towards you, resting his back against the window sill and raising an eyebrow in your direction. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at you, his lips pursing as he took in the look on your face. It spoke volumes, as did the look in his eyes. It was the look of someone calling another person’s bluff without any hesitation whatsoever, and seeing it on his face had you smacking your teeth in resignation. You still refrained from continuing.

“You don’t have to tell me, love,” he starts, bending his knee and setting his foot on the windowsill. His hands fidget with something- an object- that he was able to pull out of his pocket between one second and the next, though his eyes stay focused on you.

“But, it was you who once told me that I was an ace listener…”

He ends the sentence with a shrug of his shoulders; though, judging by the small grin curving his lips, it's apparent that while his words are said in jest, they still hold meaning behind them. You know as much, because you _do _remember telling him how he was rather easy to talk to. The words, no matter how serious or casual they were, always flowed easily whenever you were in Hobie’s presence. And now was no different.

A heavy breath left your mouth as you mimicked his position, leaning your head against the windowsill and bringing your knee up to bend in the space between you two. Your hands fiddled with a loose thread hanging from the shorts adorning your legs while your eyes flickered from his to the window that he only crawled through a few minutes ago.

“Actually…”

“Here we go.” The rumble of his voice blended seamlessly with the music coming from your speakers and the little bit of comfort it brought made your lips loosen to let out your account of your week, starting from the beginning.

During the entire recount, Hobie only interjected to offer his own commentary - usually containing weird, cockney insults for the people you described; but aside from that, he sat and listened. Well, that wasn’t exactly true.

His tendency to keep the air surrounding the both of you lighthearted showed itself whenever you seemed to be growing irritated just from recounting the details, and he reminded you of this tendency by methodically and gradually taking off his bracelets and rings, and transferring them to your wrists. As you continued talking, your wrists and fingers had taken on a bit of weight from the metal and leather of his jewelry, though it didn’t stop you from gesturing as you spoke. As soon as he was done with one hand, you’d take it back and use it to gesture while placing your other in his. Now there was just the occasional clink as the rings that fit his fingers perfectly but were a little too big for yours knocked into each other. It only resulted in him taking your hand and sliding the rings back onto your finger should they look close to falling off.

Had it been a month earlier, you would’ve gaped at the physical affection. It was something small, and something you suspected he did absentmindedly; but the fact remained that he hadn’t always been this comfortable around you. There was a time in you two’s… friendship (?) when you wouldn’t even contemplate unloading your problems onto him under the guise of not wanting to bother him when in reality, it had been an attempt of keeping him around longer. The last thing you had wanted was to run him away with your- in your words- constant nagging, complaining, and non-stop talking.

You could vividly remember the face he made the day you had explained that to him. He had called you ‘silly’ in the nicest way possible before laughing loudly. Ever since then, he had made it a point to remind you that while he was constantly busy saving civilians and the city, there would always be time for you and him to sit and just talk to one another. He’d kept to that promise since then.

By the end of your series of misfortunate events, you wore one of his black, spiked bracelets, and 3 of his rings that knocked against each other as you settled your hands in your lap with a sigh.

“So, that’s how my week went.”

What followed was a few seconds of silence, broken only by the soft music emanating from your speaker, though it wasn’t long before the sound of more shrill laughter joined the noise. Another sigh, a heavier one, left your mouth as you let your head thump against the windowsill behind you.

“And I came home, just…knowing that I’d be able to chill, relax, get my mind off of the week, but my roommate has her friend over and they’re hellbent on drinking as much as they can and speaking as loud as they can tonight. And I can’t even be mad at ‘em!”

A sharp, almost hollow laugh left your lips as you shook your head, your eyes turning to the view on the other side of your window. The city was wide awake, and as much was clear by the various sounds that usually accompanied living in the city. Closer to the center of the city, there seemed to be some kind of event going on, as the dark sky was cut through with bright lights that waved as if wanting to draw everyone’s attention to it.

Probably some event for the top 1% to go to and pat themselves on the backs for the ‘good deeds’ they had done for the city; the ‘good deeds’ that only seemed to help those they deemed worthy of it.

Goddamn…Hobie’s rubbing off on me.

Hobie’s narrowed eyes and slightly pursed lips were the only responses you received at first. While your fingers fidgeted lightly with the rings adorning your fingers, he simply gazed at you… then he was swinging his leg through your window to the fire escape.

You watched in confusion as he stood on the other side of your window, motioning for you to join him with a smirk that not only made your heart quicken but also made your confusion and curiosity grow. Your eyebrow raised in question.

“Stop being so skeptical- we’re just going to the roof.”

You gawked at him slightly, your eyes widening and your head tilting. He had said the words with a lighthearted sigh and a roll of his eyes.

“The roof? You said that like it's a normal occurrence for us to go to the roof- the hell we going to the roof for?”

“Well, it’d be a normal occurrence if you weren’t boring, love-”

“Hobie…why are we going to the roof?” You repeated the question, standing and turning to where he stood outside your window. It was easy to ignore the jab; the lightheartedness and teasing in his tone told you that he hadn’t meant them. But that didn’t stop your wariness from growing.

“You trust me, right?”

The words were simple. 4 words said with a lopsided smirk and a twinkle in his eye that was so uniquely Hobie Brown you couldn’t imagine finding it in anyone else’s eyes, no matter how many variants of him existed, as he had once told you.

They were simply words, but your answer to the question was so much more.

Of course, I trust you. I honestly don’t know if I trust anyone else as much as I trust you. And I don’t think it's because you’re Spider-Man. It's definitely because you somehow know exactly what to say and what I need to hear even when I don’t. Its also because I can’t go a damn second without thinking about you or your voice or your laugh or your eyes-

“Of course, I do…but I feel like you’re about to give me a reason not to.”

The laugh that left his mouth admittedly made a smile of your own appear on your face. It was loud, and it sounded as if it…belonged in your space. You certainly thought it belonged in your space, as well as thinking that you’d like to hear it more.

“Now why would I do that? Just wanna show you somethin’, love. ‘S all.”

This time, your look of contemplation was purely for show, as you had already decided to indulge in this little ‘surprise’ of his. There was only one obstacle. Or more like two.

“I can’t exactly walk out and just say I’m goin’ to the roof.” You motioned to your door, and the sound of your roommate and her friend’s laughter almost ironically emphasized your statement. “They’ll have at least 5 questions - each, and then they’ll probably even follow me up there. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not have them walking up on me just speaking to Spider-Man.”

Exasperation appeared on his face in response to your words, and when he spoke, his hand gestured between the two of you.

“Who said anythin’ about them seein’ you?”

If possible, the mischief in his eyes grew, as did the smirk on his face. It was only when he reached a hand through the window towards you, your lights subtly catching the web slingers on his wrists that you understood what he was alluding to, and it made you immediately shake your head.

“You deadass?”

“I’m deadass, love.”

“You can’t be deadass.”

“You know I won’t drop you! You just said you trusted me-!”

Laughter coated his words as he watched you quickly stand up, your head shaking adamantly.

You did trust Hobie, there’s no question about it. But being more than 10 feet off of the ground and relying on nothing but a piece of web to hold the both of you up was not an appealing or exciting thought.

He wouldn’t have bothered offering had he any reservations about the security and safety of his webs, and you were aware of that fact; but still…the thought of swinging through the air, several feet above the ground, and relying on nothing but a piece of web to catch the both of you-

“Nah, you got it.”

“Oh, for bloody-”

“I’ll take my chances with the drunk women in the front room, and I’ll meet you up there since you’re so adamant about going to the damn roof.”

Hobie knew not to take the snide tone of your words to heart. If anything, he only found them amusing, as made evident by the smile on his face and the disbelieving shake of his head. His eyes followed you while you found a pair of slides and a jacket before shrugging it on and turning back to him.

“I don’t get any type of hint for what's up there?”

“No- but if you aren’t up there in the next 5 minutes, my new name will be Barney Rubble.”

The words made you pause, your lips parting slightly as you replayed his words in your mind. Another one of Hobie’s endearing, and incredibly amusing (and confusing) qualities is that he has no problem letting a Cockney insult or saying slip. It could be in the middle of the most casual conversation one could have, or it could be in response to something outrageous he heard. Or maybe he just felt as if the curse would further enhance whatever he needed to say; you suspected it was more so that third one this go around.

You were used to it; used to hearing a word you had never heard prior to it coming from Hobie’s mouth in the middle (or beginning…or end) of a statement. Every time you thought you knew every piece of cockney slang- at least the ones Hobie used- he just…lets out another one. You had half a mind to keep a record of them to look back on.

You were used to it. You were also used to the feeling of confusion and amusement that always went through you every time he did it.

“...the fuck did you just say to me?”

Hobie smacked his teeth and rolled his eyes once more in faux outrage, and it only made your amusement grow. A small peal of laughter left you as you repeated the phrase in a horrible imitation of his strong accent. Pitching your voice low enough was a struggle, but you personally thought that your imitation of his accent was spot on. Judging by the deadpan look on his face, though, he disagreed.

“What even is that? Who even is that- Barney Rubble? Barney got a last name? Didn’t know tha- where you goin?”

Instead of sitting there and taking your teasing, he did something that surely had your body preparing for a heart attack, the way you tensed and quickly jumped into action.

Once he had ducked back into your room, it had only taken him 3, wide steps to reach your bedroom door…the one that would lead straight into the living room.

The living room that was occupied by your roommate and a friend.

With a hand closing around his wrist, you dug your heels into your carpeted floor, pulling him to a stop. It was barely enough, as you also had to insert yourself physically between him and the door.

You had a clue as to what- or who- Barney Rubble is, and ironically enough, it rhymed with ‘trouble’.

“What are you doing?! Alright, alright! 5 minutes- I’ll be up there. Damn-”

“Aht- you’ve got 4 minutes and 30 seconds now, love. Better get a move on.”

And if the mere thought of him walking into your living room in his suit didn’t give you enough of a heart attack, the way his hand landed on your hip and squeezed surely did.

The flush that went through your body had your eyes widening slightly and your lips parting on a quick breath. The place where his hand still rested emanated nothing but heat as he turned you towards the door, nudging you slightly forward. His steps shadowed yours, except they did so on the outside of your own. It allowed his chest to barely brush against your back, but it was enough to have your heart speeding up in the slightest.

Hell, anytime Hobie initiated any type of physical contact had your heart beating a little faster.

“W-well, what am I supposed to tell them when they ask where I’m going?”

You turned slightly once you reached the door, your hand landing on the knob and opening it slightly. The sound of the tv in the front room along with the two women’s voices immediately increased in volume as you did so, but your focus was still on Hobie’s hand and how it turned you slightly to face him.

The proximity between you two had gotten smaller at some point, forcing you to crane your neck back just to be able to meet his gaze; and perhaps it was the reflection of your lights in his eyes that were somehow always intense and soft as they gazed at you, but you could’ve sworn there was something else beneath that usual look of mischief. Something that you continued to convince yourself was simply a trick of the light, or a quick flash of his eyes- anything besides what you hoped it was. There was no point in giving yourself false hope.

It didn’t matter how much you were in denial, and it certainly didn’t matter how sure you were that he only saw your bond as that of a pair of friends, you still found yourself instantly being drawn into him as he spoke to you. His voice was a deep rumble- one that floated over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps on every part of you. His touch was a beacon of something akin to hope as he squeezed your hip again, bringing your attention back to what he was saying.

“Between us two, you got the beau’y and the brains, so use ‘em, love.” You gaped at the compliment he let slip- as if it were the most normal thing. He continued talking before you could fully process his words or the reaction they drew out of you.

“May wanna hurry up, though; you got ‘bout 4 minutes now. 3:59…3:58…3:57-”

“Goddam- you’re such a menace. You actually make me sick-”

The last thing you heard was his low chuckle as you opened the door, quickly stepping out and leaving it cracked behind you. The sound of laughter and a blaring TV grew as you walked closer to the living room. From your position, you could see the backs of your roommate and her friend, both of them lounging on the couch and talking loudly. Their words ranged from gossip they had gotten from their place of work to whether or not they’d marry someone they had yet to meet- and it wasn’t hard to see that their words only reflected the tv show they were watching.

For a second, it seemed as if you’d be able to slip behind them unnoticed and make it to the door. Their voices were loud enough to cover your steps, and the tv was certainly loud enough to cover the sound of you opening and closing the door. And for a moment, you though that you’d make it. Your hand closed around the knob of the front door, turning it lightly, only for a quick call of your name to stop you in your tracks.

“Where you goin’?”

Your roommate’s words slurred slightly, and there was a wide and curious smile on her face as the both of them turned towards you. Her words were loud to compensate for the volume of the tv, and it only made you wince slightly as you stopped and turned toward her. You could feel your lips turn into an expression that looked more like a grimace than a smile.

“I think I forgot my charger in my car. Was gonna run down and get it.”

It was the first excuse to reach the forefront of your mind. It made sense, and it was also something that you’d done multiple times on accident. You surely thought that it would be a valid enough excuse and that you’d be able to slip away… but leave it to your roommate to make things the slightest bit difficult.

“Oh! You can just use my charger. I’m not using it now!”

Your mouth opens to maybe provide another excuse or to even decline her offer, however, your words stop at the sight just down the hallway. It's hard to keep your eyes from widening at the sight of Hobie poking his head out of your door while leaning against the frame.

With a shit-eating grin, he held up 3 fingers to signify the number of minutes you had left before you truly learned what- or who- the fuck Barney Rubble was.

Deep down, you knew that his actions were joking; he wouldn’t actually walk out into your living room with his suit on, prompting screams of confusion and questions from the two drunk women in front of you. He wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

It was almost as if the menace himself read your mind, as his eyebrows rose in a challenge and the grin on his face grew. There was the slight sound of your door opening followed by the sight of his foot stepping past your doorframe. And then his hands raised as if he were going to slip his mask on over his face-

“UH! Yeah-I…actually lied. I’m not going to get my charger, I gotta…run to the store. For, uh…floss.”

“...I’ve got floss sticks, Y/N. I can get you one-” Your roommate threw back the cover she used before moving to her feet. The mere thought of her turning and seeing Hobie right at the end of the hallway made you quickly step forward. You weren’t the best when put under pressure, and there were so many different factors of the situation you had found yourself in, and Hobie was still at the end of the goddamned hall, smiling and holding up two fingers, and since when was your roommate so charitable-

“NO, you’ve got the mint ones- I don’t like those. They make my teeth…burn. I mean- hurt.”

By sheer will alone, you didn’t curse at yourself for that response right then and there. Instead, you stood there, ignoring the sight of Hobie doubling over with silent laughter at the end of the wall, and praying to whoever listened that your roommate was drunk enough to write off your excuse as something not worth your time.

Perhaps the universe was on your side, as she tilted her head and regarded you for a second, her eyes narrowing slightly. You had no doubt that she was the least bit suspicious, and you honestly couldn’t blame her. You had no idea what the hell you were saying, each word seeming to miss the filter of sense they usually passed through before leaving your mouth; despite the absurdity of your words, your roommate simply shrugged before lowering herself back into her spot, mumbling something that included the words ‘weird’ and ‘strange’.

You, however, certainly didn’t waste another second before turning and quickly making your way out of the apartment, your steps quickly taking you to the rooftop. And just as you had expected, the sound of laughter was the first thing you heard once you pushed the door open.

The sound lead you to a corner of the rooftop that was only illuminated by a string of dusty lights left by someone who’d had an idea for the rooftop but had given up. You had a perfect view of the city, the lights being easier to see from the rooftop. You were sure that you’d see elegant cars and even more elegant dresses and tuxes if you were closer to the event, but you weren’t…and you didn’t want to be.

Despite the laughter that still fell from his lips, at your expense, no less, you found that you still wouldn’t rather be anywhere else than on the rooftop with Hobie…goddamn Brown.

“I ain’t a dentist, but maybe you should get that checked out, love.”

“Don’t start-”

“Don’t think I’ve heard of someone’s teeth burnin’-”

His words broke off into another rumbling chuckle, one that immediately prompted you to roll your eyes. Nonetheless, you still walked closer to where he leaned against the low wall surrounding the roof.

Your arms crossed in front of you, your facade of being fed up with his antics quickly crumbling as his eyes narrowed at you. The soft lights reflected off of his dark skin, glinting off of each piercing he had and therefore highlighting the skin pierced by them. The action of his arms crossing drew your attention to the sinewy muscles of his forearms as they raised, copying your pose as he gazed down at you.

“You gon’ tell me why I’m up here, or are you gonna stand there and make fun of me? Because I can definitely turn right back around and go back-”

That was a lie. The fact that Hobie had wanted you there in the first place was enough to ensure that you’d stay until you saw whatever he wanted to show you. It was the emptiest threat.

“You gonna be patient and let me surprise you, or are you gonna keep askin’ questions, love?”

Another chuckle fell from his lips as he dropped his arms. One of his hands stretched out, his long fingers hooking beneath his loose bracelet that still adorned your wrist before pulling you a tad bit closer. His body turned slightly to the side, allowing space for you to lean against the wall as he jutted his chin towards something you had yet to see, though you kept your eyes on him.

It was your turn to narrow your eyes in suspicion at his actions and his refusal to answer you straightforwardly. It made your curiosity grow.

This was new, whatever…this was. You could confidently say that you two were close friends, but the softness of his eyes and the way his lips curled fondly into a smile that you liked to think was only for you said differently. It watered that little seed of hope in your chest. Now it was only a waiting game to see what it would grow into. And for some reason, you had a suspicion that tonight would not only give that seed enough room to grow but that it’d also become a little clearer, this bond between you two.

“You’re bein’ rather skeptical instead of just takin’ in what’s right in front of you.”

“And what exactly is right in front of me, Hobie?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow. You hadn’t meant for your voice to be so soft. You certainly hadn’t meant for your eyes to flicker down to his full lips as they pursed slightly at your question. But you found that maybe it was a good thing, as Hobie used the same loose grip he had on the bracelet to pull you just a few inches closer.

There was more than one way to take his words, and the realization, paired with his actions, came with a small increase in your heart rate.

The grin on his face had slowly disappeared, being replaced by a look of contemplation and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on. His eyes roamed over your features as a heavy silence fell over the two of you. Your room had been a space of familiarity; a space with enough distractions that served in keeping your thoughts from straying to things you were too scared to ask for and too self-doubtful to openly wish for. But now…with nothing but the open city skyline and the two of you alone on a nearly barren rooftop…those same thoughts reared their head. Only this time, you were almost certain that you weren’t the only one being pestered by them.

“Oh, I wish I could show you, sweetheart.”

His words echoed with every beat of your heart, no matter how irregular it had grown because of his presence. His eyes flickered from one point of your face to your eyes, and back. The subtle feeling of his fingers tightening around the bracelet, pulling you even closer was nearly lost on you as you focused on the way his lips parted slightly, an inaudible sigh lifting his shoulders. Though as they lowered with the same breath, his eyes flickered quickly over your shoulder, the grin you knew all too well appearing on his face once more.

“But you can see for yourself.”

With a mind that still worked on getting itself through the fog of longing that had been brought on by Hobie, you let him turn you towards the edge of the rooftop that looked over a grassy park. It was one that you sometimes found yourself walking through when you needed or wanted to, but now the usually open area was crowded with people either sitting on blankets or lawn chairs, all of their attention on the stage that sprawled over the park’s pond.

It wasn’t hard to figure out why, as the sound of music reached your ears no sooner than you had realized that there were people on the stage. And it wasn’t just any music. The opening notes to one of the songs Hobie had recommended to you were as familiar as the sound of your own name, as you had certainly listened to the song more than enough times. Along with the recognition of the song came the realization that the band playing was one that you both were rather fond of.

“Is that…?”

Hobie’s answer came in the form of a chuckle and a nod of his head that you saw out of your peripheral, but other than that, he simply let the music speak for itself. Despite your distance from the concert itself, the music effortlessly rode the soundwaves before reaching the two of you, making your smile grow.

You’d had no idea that they were even coming to your area, let alone holding an entire concert. But somehow Hobie had known, and he had made sure to bring you to a view no one else had to watch it.

“Mate of mine only had 2 tickets, and one was for him.” He shrugged one shoulder as you looked at him, your eyes bright with excitement for the music that just started.

“Thought that I’d have a better view from here, with someone who’s a lot less annoyin’ and a lot prettier.”

A sound close to a laugh and scoff left you at his words, your head shaking slightly. Despite the smile he wore, there was nothing else to imply that his words were joking. The music provided a background of harmonies and lyrics that you felt only added to the atmosphere, and you briefly wondered if the feelings going through your body were a result of the music’s bass traveling through the air before settling into your bones, or if it was an amalgamation of feelings you were finding a little easier to put a word to.

“Hobie, you didn’t have to do that. Giving up a free ticket to watch it from a rooftop?” Your voice still held a bit of disbelief as you questioned him, your eyes flickering between the performance and his features. Your divided attention caused you to miss the way his eyes softened as they landed on you, but you were perfectly aware of the way he turned, leaning his elbows on the wall and letting his arm rest firmly against yours. You may or may not have instantly leaned into the warmth his body emanated.

“There’s a difference between having to do somethin’ and wantin’ to do something. It’s always the second one when it comes to you, love.”

Your smile grew- if that was even possible- and you leaned more into him, your skin flushing from the combination of his words and the point of contact between you two.

The music switched to one of the band’s slower songs, and it only seemed right to hum along with the music. The opening notes garnered cheers from the crowd and a wide smile from you. Though a tug at your wrist paused your humming, and with curious eyes, you turned to Hobie.

“You trust me, right?” He asked the same question he had posed earlier, yet this time, his words were softer; more genuine. Your answer was the same as before…but softer; more genuine.

“Of course I do.”

His eyes brightened at your answer before looking above the two of you to a slanted roof that jutted out over the edge of the roof. He took a step back, pulling you along slowly as if to give you a chance to change your mind, but you did nothing of the sort. You let him lead you to where the roof’s corner was directly above you, and you could only watch as he let go of you before lithely and quickly jumping onto the same corner.

You’d seen Hobie’s powers in action multiple times, and each time, you could remember your heart speeding up in concern and worry. Especially when you saw the familiar webhead fighting the week’s newest villain on the news, or heard another news station calling him a menace or even a villain himself. Now was no different as you watched him balance precariously on the edge of the roof before crouching and offering a hand down to you.

You took a breath, one that both steadied you and tampered down your nerves, before reaching for his hand. Hobie was one tall guy, and that length only transferred to his arms as he was able to easily grab your hand and hoist you up to the roof…but that was as far as you got before your nerves got the better of you.

His hand was clenched tightly in yours, and your eyes widened as you noticed just how…far from the ground you were-

“Oi, look at me.”

Neither his voice nor the sound of the band playing could tear your gaze away from how far away the ground looked. Was the ground moving or was that just your mind playing tricks? Was it getting closer? If the ground was getting closer that meant-

It was only the feeling of his arms wrapping securely around you, your body being pulled into the wide and hard expanse of his chest as he settled the two of you on the roof, that pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts.

“You know ‘ve got you. ‘M not lettin’ you go anywhere.” He mumbled reassuringly, his arms squeezing lightly around your shoulders where they were still wound around you. Your breath hitched once more, but not because of the height you two had found yourselves sitting at.

Without a hint of hesitation, your own hands raised, securing themselves tightly around his forearms across your chest. You pushed your back further into the confines his arms made around you until you could feel every point of contact between his chest and your back, and only then did you take a deep breath before letting it out.

“You good, love?” His breath puffed lightly against the shell of your ear as he lowered his head, and the sensation sent a chill down your spine that you didn’t bother trying to hide.

Sitting there, watching a band you both enjoyed from a view no one else had, knowing that Hobie had specifically wanted this moment between you two made your words catch in your throat. It made every nerve ending in your body alight as if Hobie held the sun itself in his veins, transferring its heat and fire to you every time you two touched. While his touch was like fire, his voice was like a soothing balm that washed over you, always rumbling from deep within his chest.

The word ‘good’ would never be adequate enough to describe how you felt in his arms. There was only one word that even remotely fit the emotion flowing through you at his touch, his voice- him, except this time, there was no self-doubt holding you back from admitting it. To yourself, at least.

The slower music reached the two of you, the familiar tune helping you relax into Hobie’s chest and helping you realize just how perfectly the two of you fit together. His feet bordered yours, knees bent and giving the two of you an extra sense of security as they kept you from sliding off of the roof. While one arm stayed wrapped around your shoulders, his other unwound itself so that his fingers could find yours. They gently twisted the rings- his rings- that still adorned your fingers before almost slowly lacing with yours. Your smile grew as your head fell back to rest against his shoulder, his chin nudging slightly against your temple. A content sigh left you in the form of words.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

A/N: I hope y’all enjoyed this little oneshot that came from staying up too late and fantasizing about Hobie Brown (its an obsession at this point but can you mf blame me?)

All interactions are greatly appreciated! Likes, reblogs, comments; give it all, I’ll take it all <33

Y’all’ stay safe!

Tag list:

@shinsousliya , @honey-teaaaaaaaa , @tchhairbandhere , @jessiapollo-blog , @zane2408 , @bananasplits-world , @yellowjacketmurder , @barkbarkbo , @butterflyybabe , @bananafishok , @mitsuya-takashi , @chaoticevilbakugo , @cedeni-beanie , @kingstormpostsshit , @sailorsolar12 , @justariellove , @angelsmist , @eriksjournal , @mermaidchansons , @nil-eena , @paisholotus , @thesecretwriterblog , @brain-of-nekoma , @simp4iwaizumi , @bumlyn , @jackdrawsjunk , @http-twyla , @cedeni-beanie , @taleiakirby , @brain-of-nekoma , @borderlineacademia , @ventingfanfics , @jackdrawsjunk , @writesbyriri , @serahxney , @awolfcsworld

TAGLIST FORM

#hobie #hobie brown #hobie brown oneshot #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #hobie spiderverse #hobie x reader #hobie brown fanfic #spider punk #spider punk x reader #spider punk oneshot #spider punk x you #spider punk x yn

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detroit-grand-prix · 8 months

Text

make you better - susie wolff x personal assistant!reader

Summary: There's nothing worse than getting sick when you live alone, far away from family. But someone unexpected steps in to take care of you.

Tags/warnings: Reader/ Y/N perspective, contains descriptions of an (unspecified) illness and references to a gun violence incident, not romantic/ship content.

Author’s note: I wrote this a while ago, right after I had COVID in early February. It was the first time I'd had a symptomatic case of it. I don't get ill often, and I am not exaggerating when I say that I had never felt more ill in my life. I was also living alone at the time, which made the entire experience especially terrifying. After that, I decided to find a roommate.

I wrote this as a way to cope with the whole thing because it was strangely more traumatic than I expected. I've shared it with a few close friends and wanted to keep it mostly to myself, but with all of the requests I've been getting for more Susie-centric fic, it felt like the right time to share it. The illness isn't explicitly named so as to not place it in a specific period of time. The sex/gender of the reader isn't specified, and it is also not romantic or shippy, and that was intentional.

Writing this brought me a lot of comfort when I needed it, so I hope you find it comforting, too.

“Okay, here you go. I have to leave,” a man says, as you swing your leg over the jump seat and slide off of the motorcycle he was giving you a ride on.

“Be good,” he says, as you take one last look at him. He reminds you of your grandfather, for some reason. Your grandfather died years ago.

As you turn around and listen to the roar of the four-stroke engine take off, you look around at the street you are standing in the middle of. It was dark outside, like it was the middle of the night. The only lights are coming from nearby houses, and the sickly orange cast of sodium-vapor street lamps. There was something familiar about where you were standing, like you’d been there before, but it had been a while.

You turn around and notice a large building that looks eerily similar to your primary school. Without thinking, you walk up to the entrance and sit on one of the concrete benches outside the front door, and wait. You’re not sure what you’re waiting for, but you have the distinct, creeping feeling that you are either way too late, or way too early to something.

You hear the sound of a church bell, but it’s oddly distorted and distant, even though it is likely coming from the Catholic church that should only be a block away. It rings four times. That can’t be right. It can’t be that early in the day, and you think you remember those bells being a lot louder, once.

You get up from the bench and walk to the front door, giving a cursory tug at the old brass-toned handle. The door is locked.

“Why am I here?” you think. “What am I waiting for?”

These questions loop over and over in your mind, causing eventual panic to build in your chest. You’re not sure why someone - your grandfather, you suppose - would have just left you here. You think about walking back home, you’re fairly certain you know the way, maybe, but there’s just fog in the distance in every direction that makes you unsure of where you really are.

Not knowing what else to do, you lay down on the concrete bench and rest your head against the red brick wall of the building. Someone should come by eventually and tell you what to do, right?

As more time passes, you don’t see another soul. You just hear the distant, occasional peal of the church bells that sound increasingly distant. You’re still not sure what to do, so you do the one thing you know that you can do, even if it won’t help.

You bring your knees to your chest and start to cry.

But then, the scenery around you shifts. You feel someone shaking your shoulder. Their touch is gentle as it coaxes you into the elsewhere. You open your eyes to see a dimly-lit room. It looks like a bedroom, but it’s not your bedroom.

There’s a petite woman with a light blonde bob haircut standing over you. She has a concerned look in her eyes, and her voice is so soft and quiet that it takes a moment to understand what she’s saying to you through the stubborn fog of heat, sweat, and pain that are gripping your senses.

“There we are,” she says, looking relieved once you manage to narrow your focus to her face. “I brought you some water and some more medicine. I know it might hurt to swallow, but do your best.”

She holds out a glass of water for you as she waits for you to sit up, only handing it over once she’s confident your coordination has returned enough for you to not pour it all over your lap.

“Now, hold out your hand”.

You obey, happy to have some instruction as she deposits two red-and-white capsules onto your palm.

You pop the pills in your mouth and go to take a drink from the glass she’s handed you, remembering why she said something about it hurting to swallow. The water hitting the back of your throat feels like a hot knife, and swallowing requires conscious action. It’s difficult. You can only manage to drink just enough to get the pills down before you can't take anymore and start to cough.

“I know,” the woman says, her voice soft and sympathetic. You continue to cough, trying in vain to make it stop. “But we have to get that fever down.”

The coughing finally ceases and you settle back on the pillows you were laying on, and things start to become clear again, even though it feels like your mind is working on a delay.

The woman standing over you is named Susie, and the bedroom you are in is a guest bedroom in her condo.

Susie is your boss. A friend too, but your boss, first and foremost. You’re ill, and she’s taking care of you.

You came to meet Susie when you got a job working for a racing team in a division called Formula E. The team was called Venturi Racing and was based in Monaco. You moved to Nice, France to commute to work. It was a long way from home - a lengthy flight’s worth of a long way from home, but it was the kind of job you’d dreamed of having someday, so you jumped at the chance, packing all of your possessions and moving halfway across the world.

Monaco seemed like an alien world at first, but you settled into your new routine and your job quickly. The team principal, your boss, a formidable, confident woman named Susie Wolff, was the one that wanted to hire you, and you quickly hit it off, developing a sort of mutual trust that you’d never had with one of your bosses before. Before long, she invited you over to her condo for dinner once in a while. You met her husband and her son. Her husband was also team principal for a racing team, albeit one in Formula 1. He was in charge of Mercedes, and they made the chassis and power unit that Venturi used in their race cars.

You worked for Venturi for two years before getting a devastating announcement at a morning meeting in the early spring. The race team was being sold to Maserati, the Italian car manufacturer. They would take over the manufacture of the car itself and the power unit - the engine - severing the team’s tie with Mercedes.

Because of Susie’s own association with Mercedes, it meant that her time as CEO (which she had been promoted to from Team Principal) of the team would be coming to an end. She was an investor in the team as well, and would be selling her stake in the team to Maserati.

You were dumbstruck. New ownership meant a lot of changes would be made. You couldn’t imagine working for another racing team, or if you would even keep your job. Rumors of redundancies and the potential for reorganizing the entire structure of the team were abound, but you carried on with your job, going to London and Seoul for the last two race weekends, trying to act as if everything was normal.

Susie announced her departure to the public during the weekend of the London EPrix.

The team finished the season narrowly as vice-champions, with Edo, one of the team’s drivers, finishing third in the driver’s championship. It was a season worth celebrating, but it was bittersweet, because it would be the last one as Venturi.

But one day, shortly after getting back from the Seoul E-Prix, Susie called you into her office. It was filled with boxes, as she was packing up. She only had a few days left with the company.

“I have a proposal for you. It’s going to sound unusual, but I’d like you to come work for me, just for a while. I will need an assistant to help me coordinate things, since I won’t have one here any longer.”

She had an executive assistant at Venturi that organized much of her day-to-day work with the company. It made sense that she would want the continuity of that aspect of her life, and her current assistant was already slated to stay on with Maserati.

But, your job wasn’t even remotely related to that kind of role. As you opened your mouth to protest, she cut you off.

“I know it’s not the kind of work you do here, and I know it’s not what you moved halfway around the world to do, but it will just be for a while, maybe a few months. I have some… other activities in the pipeline, but things aren’t settled yet. I will pay you what you make here, and then some. I will take care of transferring your visa sponsorship, and take care of the rent on your flat. If you want, after your non-compete clause in your contract ends in a few months, we can see about getting you a role similar to the one you have now in Brackley, should you so desire.”

Brackley, the town in the United Kingdom where the Mercedes F1 team was based - naturally, Susie would have more than a little sway in getting you a job with the F1 team, if you wanted it. Some might see it as some sort of nepotism, given that her husband was CEO and part-owner of the team, but that was the reality of the world of Motorsport. It was all about who you knew, and Susie was a very good person to know.

You didn’t relish the idea of living in the UK after spending two years in the practically perfect climes of the French Riviera, but…

“I’d prefer someone I can trust, and I trust you. I know you’re organized. You do great work around here. My son likes you, and if I can save myself the process of interviewing and hiring someone brand-new, I’d like to. At least give it some consideration, won’t you?”

She gave you the kind, warm smile she always gave you, and you asked for a few days to consider it, which she agreed to.

In the meantime, your department met with the higher-ups at Maserati, asking them questions about their vision for the direction for the team. They assured you that they wanted to change as little as possible, not wanting to deviate from the patterns that made Venturi successful, but something about them rubbed you the wrong way, and you realized that you didn’t want to stay past the transition period.

You sent Susie a message to tell her that you accepted her offer. You left Venturi right after the changeover, telling your colleagues that you were going to take a bit of a break for a while.

Being a personal assistant wasn’t the kind of work you necessarily enjoyed, but your job with the race team made you very good with the kind of attention to detail that being Susie's assistant required. You coordinated her travel schedules and all of the associated arrangements (hotels, cars, meals, special requests), sometimes having to work with her husband Toto’s assistant on the logistics. You responded to requests for interviews and scheduled those, handled all of the other inquiries she received (of which there were a lot) and even helped make arrangements for two keynote speeches she gave at various conferences.

You also handled the smaller, daily minutiae - various errands, making appointments, doing the shopping for the household. You traveled with her sometimes as well when she was giving speeches at conferences or going to events. In just a few months, you went on trips to Ireland, Portugal, and even the United States.

For a woman that didn’t technically have a regular job after leaving Venturi, Susie was shockingly busy.

“You’re a lifesaver”, she told you, more than once. “I know you don’t want to do this forever, but I don’t know how I got on without you.”

Hearing things like that, in addition to the more-than-generous wage Susie paid, made the work bearable, even enjoyable at times. Plus, she was generous and kind in a way that made you feel like you were her friend and trusted confidant, and not just her employee.

By the time the new year had come and gone, you’d fallen into a comfortable routine, until you woke up one Sunday morning in January, feeling a bit odd.

It felt like the early stages of a head cold. It was minor, an occasional sniffle and watery sneeze. You convinced yourself that it wasn’t worth worrying about. The heat in your flat was running at full-tilt, after all. Maybe you needed to tell your landlord that it was time to change the dust filter.

You rarely got sick, and it was bearable when you did, so you didn’t give much thought to it. It was your day off, so you took some over-the-counter cold medicine and went about your usual Sunday. You went to the supermarket to do your own shopping, spoke to your mother on the phone (which was sometimes challenging, just because of time zone differences), tidied up your flat, watched something on Netflix, and caught up on some reading before going to bed early.

It was going to be another busy Monday morning. Susie was due to give a keynote speech over Zoom for some conference, and things had to be prepared for her to travel to London for some meetings for the next week, so things had to be arranged for that. You fell asleep that Sunday trying to make mental lists of all of the things that needed to be done over the next few days.

You woke up with your alarm, and immediately knew that this was more than a simple head cold. Your nose didn’t feel stuffy any more, but your throat felt like it was on fire. You had woken up in a puddle of your own sweat, and your mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls. Your arms and legs ached like you’d gone to the gym, which you hadn’t in… a while.

The thought of calling in sick crossed your mind, but remembering how much work you had to do that day dissuaded you.

Plus, you felt better after a hot shower and chewing on some cough drops while you were on the train to Monte Carlo from your flat in Nice. The brisk walk in the fresh air between the Monte Carlo train station and Susie’s condo on the eastern end of the principality helped, too.

You could have driven your own car in less time, but you preferred to take the train and walk most days. The weather was almost always pleasant, even in the winter months, and the scenery never got old. (Plus, the tiny, narrow streets in the principality were an annoyance to drive around, and finding parking in your own neighborhood in the early evening was often a nightmare. It was easier to just take the train).

By the time you got to Susie’s building, though, you started to feel bad again. You felt strangely winded, and your limbs felt heavy and achy again. You had gotten plenty of sleep the night before, so you weren’t sure why you were so exhausted. A seasonal cold or allergies had never made you feel this way before.

The building’s concierge greeted you on your way across the lobby, and asked you if you were okay. You waved him off, insisting that your windedness was just from the cold breeze. You stood by the elevator for a moment to catch your breath before getting on and pressing the number for the Wolff’s floor, concerned by how hot and sweaty you felt, especially given that it was chilly outside that morning.

You fumbled with the key to their front door for a moment. The door wasn’t unlocking, and you started to panic, knowing that neither Toto or Susie would be in at the moment. Toto would have left for his work week in Brackley last night, and Susie would be out, dropping her son, Jack, off at school. After a moment of struggling with the lock, you realized that you were trying to use the wrong key.

Feeling momentarily sheepish and glad nobody was around to witness your blunder, you unlocked the door, hanging your coat, scarf, and bag on the coat rack in the entryway. You toed off your shoes and left them by the door, before heading to Susie’s home office and starting your usual Monday morning tasks. She had set up a desk for you as well. It was small, but neatly arranged with your laptop, a whiteboard, and baskets for incoming and outgoing correspondences that the housekeeper would leave when she collected the mail. Most mornings, Susie would leave you a still-warm breakfast pastry or the coffee she knew you liked, depending on how cooperative Jack was with getting out the door for school in the morning, and you almost always arrived when Susie was taking him to school. There was nothing waiting for you on your desk this morning, not even a cup of coffee. It was fine - you had no appetite anyway.

You were in the process of cross-checking Susie’s calendar for the day with inquiries in her email when you were seized with a painful coughing fit, wondering how the air in the condo was so dry when it was located so close to the edge of the Mediterranean. That had to be it, right? Or maybe there was just a tickle in your throat. There was no way you were actually getting sick. You got up to get yourself a glass of water and stood in the kitchen, waiting for the coughing fit to subside when you heard the condo’s door close.

“Good morning!” Susie called out from the entryway. She sounded cheerful as she talked, rounding the corner from the entrance to the kitchen. “My goodness,” she said, seeing you trying to contain your coughing . “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you said between coughs, trying to get a sip of water down. “Just a tickle in my throat, I think.”

Susie looked at you skeptically. “I don’t know… you don’t look so good. You’re flushed, and you look awfully pale,” she said as she stepped closer to you. You could feel her eyes on you. When the coughing subsided, she surprised you by reaching out to put the back of her hand against your cheek, then your forehead. You knew it was cold out, but her hand felt like ice against your skin. It startled you for a second, but felt kind of good. You were starting to feel a little warm. “And you are definitely running a fever, my goodness. Are you ill?”

“No,” you said. “I mean, not really. It’s just a cold, I think.”

Judging by the expression on her face, she definitely did not believe you. You weren’t sure you believed yourself, anymore. You hadn’t wanted to admit it, but what you had was definitely not a seasonal cold.

“Well, I’m going to take you back to your flat. You need to get some rest. And I won’t hear any arguments,” she said, knowing you were about to argue. “I will be fine for the day, and I won’t have you working while you’re sick.”

You gathered your things, and Susie gave you a ride back to your flat in Nice. It wasn’t a long drive - a half an hour at most, but you still felt bad that Susie was not only taking an hour of her day to bring you straight back home, but also that you wouldn’t be able to do your job today. You had always been a bit of a workaholic, it couldn’t be helped.

As she dropped you off at your building, she implored you not to feel bad, assuring you that she would be fine.

“If you need anything, and I mean this - please, please call me, or send me a message. I’ll come right away.”

You promised her that you would let her know if anything changed, despite not planning on bothering your boss with such things, and trudged up the stairs to your flat. You changed out of your clothes, put on pajamas, and took some more medicine before crawling into bed and falling asleep almost immediately.

You slept peacefully for a few hours, but then, vivid nightmares started coalescing. In one instance, you dreamed of your mother dying. It seemed so real - she was hanging on to the edge of a bridge you recognized from your hometown, and you couldn’t summon the strength to lift her up by her outstretched hand. You watched as she fell into the canal below and was swept away by the current.

The dream was so vivid that you nearly started crying when you woke up.

It was dark outside. You scrambled for your phone to check the time, confirming that you’d slept until just past midnight, somehow.

Other sensations became obvious as you came out of sleep - the fact that you were burning hot and drenched in sweat. On the bright side, the sinus congestion had cleared up, but as a trade-off, your throat felt like it was an open wound, or like you’d swallowed a bucket of rusted thumbtacks. Your head was pounding. You couldn’t ever remember a time when you felt this ill.

You sat awake for a few hours, trying in vain to soothe your tortured throat and quell the vicious coughing and rasping. You tried gargling warm salt water, which helped temporarily. You ate some ice pops that you’d found in the back of your freezer, left there from an awful heat wave over the summer. You took some cough syrup, wincing as it burned like cheap alcohol as it went down. It just caused more coughing, making your whole body feel weak. You couldn’t do anything else other than sitting on the closed lid of your toilet with your head in your hands until it stopped.

After that episode, you ran a hot shower to try to get the steam to clear the congestion in your chest, and rinse off the sweat that was now drying grossly on your skin. It helped enough that you were able to go back to sleep for a few hours.

You woke up when you normally would have been getting up for work, but immediately knew you would not be going in today. The guilt was momentary, but you felt even worse than the night before, barely wanting to move. Just as you were about to message Susie to let her know you’d be out again, she called you, taking you a bit by surprise.

“I just called to see how you were feeling,” she said.

“Not good,” you responded, surprised at how hoarse and thin your voice was. You hadn’t talked since she dropped you off at home the day before.

“Oh, you sound awful. Well, I -” she paused for a moment. “I’ll be there in an hour. Pack whatever you need for a day or two, comfortable clothes and that.”

She said it without preamble or explanation. “What?” you asked. “Why?”

Surely she wasn’t expecting you to work… maybe she was going to bring you to the hospital? It wasn’t that bad, was it?

“I’d like you to stay with me until you feel better. You sound absolutely wretched. I was worried about you all afternoon, being all alone when you’re ill. I know you don’t have any family in the area, and I’d hate for you to need help and not have anyone nearby to ask. I can’t make you come stay with me, of course, but I would feel a lot better if I could keep an eye on you. Please.”

It was a tempting offer, and your flat seemed a lot scarier last night when you woke up from the nightmares without having anyone else around. On the other hand, Susie was your boss, and as an adult, you weren’t her responsibility.

“I… don’t want to impose, or to get you or Jack sick,” you said, hoping that would be a reasonable enough excuse. You would find a way to manage by yourself. “Plus, you have that Zoom keynote this week and London next week-“

“Nonsense,” she said. “We have two guest bedrooms. You wouldn’t be imposing at all, and I’m doing the conference presentation from my office, anyway. And you were ahead of the curve on the prep for London, so I’m not worried. Really. Please, let me pick you up.”

She knocked down your objections one by one, and not even two hours later, you were settled into bed in one of the guest rooms of the Wolff’s condo. Susie had supplied you with some cold water and hot tea, and set up a small humidifier on the nightstand. It was shaped like an owl, so you assumed that it had come from Jack’s room. You heard a soft knock on the door and looked up to see Susie coming in. She had a tray in her hands with a steaming bowl, and something else that you couldn’t make out the shape of.

“I made you some soup,” Susie said as she set the tray down on the nightstand. “Well, I heated up a tin of it, really, but I thought you could use something to eat. And, I brought a thermometer,” she said, holding up the device. “I’m sure you still have a fever.”

She turned the thermometer on, and after it beeps a few times, holds it to your forehead. The device beeped urgently, and Susie frowned at the display.

“39.5,” she muttered. “I’ll be right back.”

It was high, higher than you were expecting. No wonder you felt so awful.

She left the guest room and returned shortly after, with a medication bottle and what looked like an ice pack, wrapped in a small tea towel.

“Here,” she said, handing you two small capsules from the bottle. “It’s paracetamol, for the fever.”

She handed you the glass of water she’d given you earlier, and you took the pills with tentative sips. It didn’t make it hurt any less, and you groaned and winced. It was just water, but it still didn’t go down easily.

“Sorry, it hurts,” you whined, your voice barely there at that point. You settled yourself back down onto your pillow.

“It’s okay,” Susie said, quietly. She took the glass of water out of your hands and set it on the nightstand. “I know it hurts, but getting some rest will help.”

She placed the ice pack on your forehead, careful to keep it wrapped neatly in the towel, and it felt amazing on your overheated skin.

“Getting that fever down will, too.”

Susie took your hand and gently squeezed it before she turned around to leave. “I’ll come back in and check on you in a bit. Try and get some sleep. And don’t try to yell across the house if you need something, you can send me a message, okay?”

“Okay,” you said. Or tried to. Your voice was only vestigial at that point. “Thank you, Susie.”

“It’s my pleasure, darling. Feel better.” She patted the top of your hand as she stood up to leave. As soon as she closed and latched the bedroom door behind her, you closed your eyes and fell asleep almost immediately.

That is how it went for two days. You lost most of your time to sleeping. You had more fever-fuelled nightmares. Susie roused you every few hours to take your temperature, to give you medication, to try to get you to drink some water or eat some soup or some ice pops. She said she was worried about you getting dehydrated, and it didn’t help that you could still hardly stand to swallow anything.

She continued to bring you ice packs for your forehead to help with your fever, extra blankets when chills wracked your body, tea with honey, and cough drops that didn’t seem to do much. She brought you clear broth that you tried to drink but the salt stung your throat too much for you to manage getting much of it down.

For the rare moments you were awake during the day while Jack was at school, she sat in a chair next to your bed and talked to you. The conversation was mostly one-sided as you still couldn’t talk much, but she was very good company, and it made you feel better that she didn’t seem to mind spending time with you, even if you were too exhausted and raspy to be a decent conversation partner.

At one point, she brought you a plush toy that looked like some sort of alien cat with tiny wings instead of arms.

“Jack wanted me to give this to you to keep you company.” she said. It’s the first thing that made you smile in days.

On the third day, you had an especially realistic, especially frightening nightmare. It must have been inspired by the news you’d read from the United States about a shooting at a university campus, because you dreamed about the university you used to work for before moving to France. You watched in terror as one of your old coworkers was taken down in front of you. You get shot trying to run away, and the wound you sustain to your hip burned. You swore you could feel the blood running down your leg. It all felt so real.

You bolted upright from sleep for the second time that week, opening your eyes to the darkness of the bedroom, but that time, you can’t help but cry.

Your sobbing didn’t make much noise as you still didn’t have much of a voice, but it was enough to prompt Susie to come and check on you.

You were a little embarrassed as she sat on the edge of your mattress and gathered you into a hug, but the embarrassment was momentary. You let yourself be held as you cry into her shoulder. She rubbed your back with one hand, cradling the back of your head with the other, and told you that everything would be okay, and that you’ll be feeling better soon. She didn’t make you explain, she didn’t ask questions, she just let you lean into her and cry.

There was something in you that broke when you realized how badly you missed receiving this kind of maternal - or really, any, affection. You couldn’t really even remember the last time you’d hugged anyone. You moved halfway across the world, and while you don’t regret it, it feels awfully lonely at times. You don’t get home to see your family much, and your mother certainly couldn’t drop everything to fly halfway across the world to come and take care of you.

It meant a lot that Susie is there for you, even though she didn’t have to be. She’s your boss, but she cares enough for you to look after you when you need it. The realization made you cry even harder.

You’re so thankful she insisted on you staying with her, because you’re weren’t sure how you would have managed to weather your illness, whatever it was, by yourself.

She calmed you down enough for you to go back to sleep, and, by some miracle, your fever broke by the next morning.

Within a day, your throat started to hurt less. Your voice came back, though it was thin and airy. Your appetite came back, and you started feeling human again.

Satisfied with the progress of your convalescence, Susie brought you back to your flat after four days in her guest bedroom.

“Don’t even think about coming back to work until next week,” she said, as she parked her car in front of your flat. "I want you to be at one-hundred percent. We've got a lot of work to do, but I'll be fine until you're better."

You smiled, and thanked her for her kindness before you watched her pull her car away, keeping your eyes on it until it disappeared around a corner. Just telling her thank you didn’t feel like enough, but you’re not sure there is a way to thank her that would have felt like enough.

#susie wolff x reader #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #y/n is not used #my fanfic #my fanfic writing #formula 1 fanfic

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gridgirldrabbles · 2 years

Note

heyheyhey

idk if you’ve done this idea yet but if you could a fic where carlos and reader are roommates and reader goes to a party forgetting to tell carlos and doesn’t come back until 4 am and they get into a big fight which ends with an angry love confession

‘where have you been?’ you jumped as you heard the voice in the dark, noticing the lamp in the living room was still on. carlos was stood in the doorway in front of you, arms crossed against his chest with a rather displeased look on his face. ‘it’s 4am, why are you still awake?’ you asked, removing the shoes that had been rubbing your feet raw the whole night, sighing at the relief when they touched the plush carpet of your shared apartment.

‘because someone didn’t come home and then refused to answer their phone,’ he was shaking his head like a disapproving parent, and if he wasn’t so mad at you you would’ve laughed, ‘I thought something had happened to you!’ you ran your hand over your face wanting nothing more than to go to bed, you’d been drinking steadily for the past six hours, and while you definitely weren’t drunk, you were somewhat tipsy. ‘sorry, I didn’t realise I had to tell you everywhere I was going dad.’ you knew you’d struck a cord from the sharp intake of breath, if you weren’t so exhausted then maybe you would have tried to not be an ass.

‘I was trying to make sure you were safe!’

‘I don’t need you to look after me!’

‘why are you being such a dick right now? I was just looking out for you.’

‘because I don’t know why I’m being lectured when you go out all the time without telling me! you’re not my boyfriend, you don’t have to protect me.’ you huffed, as much as the words tugged on your heartstrings, you were right. carlos wasn’t your boyfriend, and as much as you wished he was, you had tried to fight down those feelings when you realised they weren’t reciprocated.

‘what if I wanted to be?’ the words cut across the silence of the room like a knife, your head snapping up to look him directly in the eyes as you processed his words. ‘I’m only so protective of you because I care about you, as more than a friend.’ his cheeks were turning red at his admission, if he was ever going to confess his feelings, this wasn’t how he had thought he was going to do it.

before he could open his mouth to say anything else, your hands were cupping his face and dragging his lips towards yours, capturing them in a sweet embrace. he could taste the faintest taste of tequila and lime on your lips and it was like it had put him in a trance. you pulled away softly, smiling towards the dumbstruck spaniard in front of you.

‘I care about you too, as more than a friend if you hadn’t figured that out.’

#cs55 #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz drabble #f1 imagine #f1 drabble

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dreaming-of-mossballs · 7 months

Text

Writing Practice

Featuring a few OCs!

WC - 2k

MASTERLIST HERE

I just wanted to let everyone know, I am, in fact, alive. I’m just inactive to pursue studies, but I wanted to write a bit to ease some apprehension I have about tests coming up.

The /-/‘s are where I normally would’ve italicized.

————————————————————————

Thursday.

The third day of training camp.

And there are records just /everywhere/.

The colorful cardboard sleeves lay sprawled across the living room carpet like ants on a cracker. Unless there had been an earthquake, Ellis saw absolutely no foreseeable reason that this should have happened. She gave the room a quick scan before tearing into a run down the hallway towards the bedroom.

With the force of a soldier, she flung open the door, nearly tearing it off its hinges. She spotted a dark shape moving from just behind the open doorway of the bathroom, which was located on the left side of their shared bedroom.

Just /what/ does this lunatic think he’s doing?

She snorted to herself.

“Scout!” She called, raising a hand to cup her mouth.

Her blonde-haired roommate only intensified his rooting through the cabinets. Ellis gripped the doorframe frustratedly, shook her head, and stomped into the room. He turned his head swiftly with an expression of pure fear, although it wasn’t directed at her.

“Would you care to explain how my music collection has travelled— no, EXPLODED, halfway across the dorm?” She gestured towards the hallway, nearly knocking over a tacky lamp that the previous tenant had forgotten to take with them. Scout sprung to his feet and dusted off his thighs before making eye contact with her with the most self-righteous expression he could muster. A bottle of Windex and a plunger lay on the tile next to his feet.

“What happened?” Ellis raised an eyebrow at him. She did her best not to let any irritation, or exhaustion from hours of training, seep into her voice.

Her roommate cleared his throat. “I… kicked over your records by mistake,” he said. His tone was flat, but he had the least convincing expression ever.

She bit back a disbelieving snort.

“Sure,” she said after a slight pause. “Looking in the bathroom cabinets is going to help with fixing that problem, I guess?” Ellis added with a questioning tilt to her voice. He crossed his arms.

“It’s none of your business,” he responded flippantly, running a hand through his gelled-up hair. Ellis couldn’t help but notice his face seemed rather flushed, with something along the lines of nervousness.

She stared at his red hi-tops for a moment in a moment of mutual awkwardness before relaxing her shoulders with a sigh. “Whatever. I’m gonna go make some Kool-Aid. Do you want some?”

Scout didn’t say anything, and Ellis started off towards the kitchen before he interjected.

“Wait—.” He outstretched one of his arms to stop her. “Maybe—, maybe don’t go in there,”

The black-haired girl tilted her head. “Why not?”

He dropped his hands to his sides.

“There’s a rat,”

Memories of her roommate leading entire organizations into battle surfaced in the fraction of a second. Ones of him fighting ferociously, both alongside and against her, where he was covered head to toe in blood and soot. And now she was standing in a musty dorm room, staring at said roommate, who had the full intention of fighting a four-inch long rodent with a spray bottle and a plunger.

She mouthed a silent “oh” at him before snatching the plunger out of his hands and whisking out the door. He started to follow her, but thought better of it, turning back to the cabinet and pulling out an old bucket which had come with the suite.

A self-satisfied smirk crossed Ellis’ faced while traipsing down the hallway. She had dealt with WAY more than rats. She had dealt with MIA, for gods’ sake. Her roommate was silly for letting this get to him. Poking her head into the main living area, she scanned the room with a disinterested stare.

Her gaze swept the kitchen from the island in the middle to the oven. “Scout, I don’t see it. And if there really was a rat, I think it would be gone by now, don’t you?”

But then, Ellis realized the sink seemed just a tad bit darker than usual. She stepped closer, squinting her eyes, and spotted an outline of something dark and furry reflecting off the stainless steel walls. She heard the scrabbling of feet before brandishing the plunger like a sword and backing up against the wall.

Right on top of the mixing bowl in the sink, was a massive rat. It was almost as big as the handheld iron Scout had gotten as a gift.

“Oh—, oh that is a BIG fuckin’ rat,” she said, her eyes widening in disbelief. The clattering of silverware rang out as the creature, evidently an ugly one, clambered out of the sink and onto the counter.

“Scout. SCOUT.” She raised her voice, not tearing her eyes away from the rodent even for a second. “WHAT DO WE DO???”

“I don’t know, idiot!” His muffled voice came from down the hallway. This time, she heard bottles being thrown across the floor as he rummaged through the closet. The rat drew closer, eyeing her like the pathetic creature she was. “How strong is the suction on the vacuum?”

“The red one??”

“No, the grey one,”

“I don’t know, I haven’t used that one in weeks. Why???”

“I want to see if we can immobilize it using the suction,”

“Scout, you can’t be serious—,” The rat made a noise that made the hairs of her neck stand on end. “The puny vacuum we got with our dorm will tickle it at the MOST. Now can you get over here before this thing decides to rip my face off???”

Scout skidded on his socked feet around the corner of the hallway and into the kitchen. “Back up a bit, moron. It thinks you’re trying to corner it,”

“Oh, so you’re the rat EXPERT now, are you?” Ellis snarled, but obliging anyways. She backed up, bumping shoulders with him, and the greasy-furred creature launched itself onto the floor with a /thunk/.

“I’ll call animal control. Or pest removal? I don’t know what you guys call it. We never had rats in our mansion,” Scout tucked the bucket under his arm and fished in his pocket for his phone. Ellis took a deep breath, her heart racing so hard she thought an artery would burst.

“Okay, Mr. Silver Spoon,” she muttered. “They aren’t gonna charge us for that, right?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. They did say the building was supposed to be rat-free though,”

“I’m sure they did. They /also/ said the washing machine worked perfectly fine and it overflowed twice last week,” Ellis barked a laugh.“Go get somewhere safe while I keep an eye on this thing,”

Scout handed her the bucket and shuffled slowly to the right towards the coffee table, eyeing the rat which was skittering next to the quarter rounds connecting the floor to the walls. Ellis tucked the bucket into the crook of her elbow and wielded the plunger like a crude sort of gladiator. She was ready to move at the slightest twitch of a tail. Scout sighed loudly behind her from on top of the table. “We’re on hold,”

She turned her head towards him indignantly.

“We’re WHAT???”

He raised his hands defensively. “Don’t look at me. I don’t know why they aren’t answering. The business models in this place are so damn crude,”

/Yeah? Says the guy who had a team of butlers at his beck and call since the ripe age of five./ She rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. We’ll just have to get this thing out of here by ourselves,”

She spotted a bag of almonds lying on the coffee table Scout was standing on and snatched it with a spiteful glare. Dropping the almonds in a trail towards the balcony, she kept her eyes trained on the dark brown blob, which was now rubbing its face with its forepaws.

/This is so gross,/ she grimaced, throwing the sliding glass door to the balcony open. /I don’t even know if this little fucker likes almonds,/

Ellis backed away from the door and joined Scout on the coffee table. But after fifteen minutes, it hadn’t moved an inch.

The exasperated girl buried her face in her hands, earning a snort from Scout.

“It’s never gonna leave,” she muttered. “I guess it lives with us now. We only need the kitchen to survive, right?”

“I am not surrendering this dorm to yet /another/ animal,” Her stone-faced roommate rolled his eyes, and it took her a moment to realize what he had implied. “Maybe you just aren’t doing it right. It says here, rats like bananas a fair amount. Maybe more than almonds,”

She withdrew her hands, hissing at him. “I’m not wasting a fucking /banana/ on this rat. Do you know how expensive bananas are nowadays?” Ellis was becoming hysterical. “You know what? Why don’t we make a charcuterie board for the damn thing, while we’re at it. You would know all about how to cater to the refined tastes of Sir Ratticus the Third, right? Right???”

“The rat has better taste than /you/, I’ll say—,” he grumbled.

“That’s it. I’ve had it with you,” she threw her hands up in the air, the bucket rattling as it slid down her forearm.

“In fact,” she said bitingly. “Why don’t you take care of it? I tried, so now it’s your turn,”

Ellis had never witnessed the color drain out of a boy’s face so fast.

“Ah—,” he looked taken aback. “I’d rather not,”

“Nuh-uh,” she narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t get to criticize my way of doing things when the most you’ve done is ATTEMPT to call animal control,”

“I had it under control before /you/ got here,” he leaned forward with a glare.

“Sure. Okay, go get it then,” Ellis raised her hands swiftly as if to push him off, and Scout shrieked.

And she means, /shrieked/.

It reverberated off the dingy walls of the living space and into the neighborhood outside. Ellis could hear the cawing of crows as they startled from their perches.

It was honestly impressive.

Scout clutched his arms close to his body with a terrified expression, his eyes were shut tightly, and he was shivering. Ellis looked onward, wide eyed. After thirty seconds, Scout blinked his eyes open again to see her staring at him in confusion.

“I— uh. I wasn’t actually going to push you, you know,” she said curtly.

“Y-yeah. I knew that,” Scout replied dismissively. His cheeks turned a deep shade of pink and he glanced away. He had impressively long eyelashes, Ellis realized.

“Well. That rules out that option, I guess,” She shook her hands out and sighed. She paused.

“Why don’t you just watch me and tell me where it’s going?”

He bit his top lip. “Yeah. Ok,”

And with that, Ellis shook the bucket off her arm and stepped off the table with it nestled closely to her chest. The rat had moved a little bit closer to the doorway, now gnawing on one of the almonds. Ellis now realized she had placed /way/ too many almonds on the floor. It would have likely gotten too full to follow the full trail.

She raised the bucket higher, her gaze laser-focused on the creature. When it bent down to pick up another almond, that’s when she struck, launching herself at it like a cheetah in the underbrush. The red plastic bucket clattered over the mangy rat, which started clawing at the walls of its prison immediately.

“Scout! Hand me those textbooks, will you?”

Her roommate grabbed the textbooks on “Modern Magic Study” and a number of other combat books, and tossed them to her, fear still illuminating his eyes. She slammed them down on the bucket and waited for the struggling to cease to a few scrabbles a minute.

“Now, hand me your phone,” she ordered him. Ellis dialed animal control once again and walked over to the kitchen table as though nothing had happened.

She turned to Scout.

“You feel like making dinner? This might be a while,”

————————————————————————

2023 - Dreaming-of-Mossballs - Do not repost/translate without my permission - NO AI

#Mossball_Writing #Hahaha I did this all in one go and I regret it immensely #writers on tumblr #writing community #writeblr #Hey uh am I tagging this right

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delimeful · 3 years

Text

mere monstrosity (1)

warnings: spiders, misunderstandings, captivity

Logan woke up to the familiar soft chime of his alarm, and rolled out of bed bleary-eyed but ready to get the day started. He kept quiet as he crept out of the room.

He didn’t bother grabbing his glasses, knowing that they’d only be of use after his shower. His feet knew the way from his bedroom to the bathroom by heart, and he preferred to shower in the dark to avoid the likelihood of getting one of his light-sensitivity migraines, so he didn’t reach for the lightswitch either.

Instead, he pushed quietly past the half-open door and fumbled for the shower knob, cranking it up to exactly the point before it turned scalding.

The water flickered on a moment later, and amidst the clamor of droplets against ceramic, he heard an indistinct, high-pitched noise, like a chirp or squeak.

“A mouse?” he muttered to himself, squinting at the dark, blurry interior of the shower.

He couldn’t hear anything else over the spray, so he quickly turned the shower off and stepped back to flick the lightswitch on, potential headaches be damned.

He pulled the shower curtain fully to the side, and blinked at the sight of a blurry black splotch in the corner of his bathtub. Leaning in a little further, he could briefly make out individual legs, long and numerous, before they were pulled closer and blended in with the rest of the shape.

“You are… a considerably large spider,” he informed it, grateful that it was him and not Patton who had found it. The resulting terrified shriek would have woken him and Janus, and probably most of the neighbors for that matter. “Are you a tarantula? Are tarantulas even native to this area?”

The spider, rather predictably, didn’t respond, and Logan recalled that he’d just doused the poor thing with jets of cold water. It was probably curling all its limbs in a mock death-curl, trying to process the unexpected threat to its breathing and body temperature.

He reached over to the counter and carefully removed the collection of multicolored toothbrushes from the plastic cup next to their sink, tapping it against the side of the counter to clear out any remaining dust.

“Try to stay still, alright?” he coaxed in a low voice, crouching and leaning over the tub to get a better angle. “I don’t want to catch any of your limbs, just keep them all tucked in close like that and I’ll get you out of there.”

To his surprise, the spider really didn’t make any sudden moves, remaining frozen as he settled the cup over it. The only reason he was sure it was still alive was the tiny motion of its front legs, two little investigative nudges against the edge of the cup.

“Excellent job,” he praised, his curiosity only growing. Most of the spiders he had cupped would immediately run at the glass with arms lifted in threat, or run in frantic circles along the edges seeking an escape. Of course, none of them had been this large. Most wild tarantulas were hunters, though, not spinners. Aggression would serve them well, so why was this one so docile? Was it an escaped pet? Had the cold water been that shocking?

He quickly retrieved a folder from the living room, returning to find that the plastic cup had shifted a couple of inches. It was large enough to push it, then.

“Just a little bit more,” he continued to soothe, carefully sliding the folder under the cup bit by bit, allowing the spider time to shift its legs onto the folder so the tips wouldn’t be pinched. He then carefully lifted the whole ensemble up, keeping a cautious hand on top of the cup. “There we go.”

The kitchen was dimly lit, the small light under the microwave still on so that anyone getting water in the middle of the night wouldn’t trip or run into anything in the dark. Logan glanced at the front door for a long moment, and then gave in to the urge to investigate his catch a bit closer. It would be irresponsible to just release a domesticated tarantula into the wild, after all.

He set the cup and folder down carefully on the counter, and then placed a heavy ceramic plate on top of the cup, reasoning that it was better to make sure the spider wouldn’t push the cup-- and itself-- right off the counter.

“One moment.” That done, he went into his room to retrieve his glasses, leaving the light off so as to not wake up Janus, who had only gotten in from his night shift a few hours ago. His roommate normally slept heavily once he managed to get to sleep, so Logan didn’t have to worry about waking him by climbing out of their shared bed, but better not to risk turning the lights on in the first place.

The world came into a much clearer focus once he’d pushed his glasses into their proper place atop his nose, and with his vision improved, he had no problems finding the hall closet and rummaging through it for one of Janus’s old terrariums.

He set the glass case down on the kitchen counter without any furnishings inside-- he was only planning to get a good look at the specimen, after all-- and flicked on the kitchen light before carefully moving the trapped spider into the terrarium and then lifting the cup away.

The spider frantically scuttled back, smacking thorax-first into the glass wall of the terrarium, and Logan frowned contemplatively at the sight of it.

It was certainly a tarantula, one that he’d probably be able to find online fairly easily with the distinctive white stripes along it’s eight fuzzy legs. Concerningly enough, there was an odd swelling protrusion on the anterior part of the body. It was a similar dark shade to the rest of the body, but almost larger than the thorax, and it blocked off any sight of the pedipalps, fangs, or eyes.

The texture didn’t seem to match the carapace… Perhaps it was a piece of garbage or organic waste that had gotten stuck on the creature? If it hindered movement, that could explain why it had been so still earlier.

It wasn’t still now, exhibiting an odd vibrating throughout its body that Logan had never witnessed from a spider before. He would certainly be doing some research into arthropods after this.

Well, at the very least, he could see if that protruding material would come loose.

Logan carefully pulled on one of Janus’s thick leather gloves, one of the more worn sets in case the spider had urticating hairs, and then reached down. The spider seemed to spot his shadow, going by the way it stiffened, and he reminded himself that though he didn’t know the species and many tarantulas were venomous, it was incredibly unlikely their venom would be able to do more than hurt him.

Confidence restored, he continued reaching down until his fingers met the odd lump, at which point a low, guttural hiss sounded, and the spider threw its front legs up and lunged, slapping its limbs down against the floor of the terrarium in threat.

Logan remained undeterred by the small tantrum, instead focusing on the fact that the obstruction was loose, almost like shed skin on a snake. Studying the spider carefully, he pinched it gently between two fingers, trying to discern what in the world it could possibly be.

The next three movements happened in rapid succession.

First, Logan tugged lightly at the material caught between his fingers. Second, the spider recoiled sharply, pulling away from his grip with surprising strength. And third, the covering came loose, the spider pulling free from it and leaving a limp swathe of fabric hanging from Logan’s fingers.

Below him, now uncovered, there was pale skin, a mop of bedraggled hair, and a tiny, terrified human face.

Logan froze, staring down at it-- them with wide eyes.

The being he’d mistaken for a spider was actually a drider, a creature of myth that was apparently all too real. Logan couldn’t help how stunned he felt. Even apart from the shock of the discovery, there was the shock of their size. Driders were said to have a human-sized spider half, not the other way around!

Below, the drider was still frozen in place, staring right back up at him. He could see the way their little chest was heaving with quick, panicked breaths, could feel the way the tiny makeshift poncho in his hand was sodden and cold, and he felt guilt strike him like a ruler across knuckles.

“I-- Hold on a moment, please,” he managed, his mind racing as he stepped back, turning and hurrying out of the room.

Once again, the hall closet held exactly what he needed, and he mentally rescinded all his past complaints about the amount of extra snake care items Janus had stashed away in their storage closet like a dragon’s hoard.

The heat lamp was compact enough to fit easily in the terrarium, where the spider-person had scuttled back to press themself into the furthest corner, limbs pulled in tightly in what had to be a fear response.

Logan set the lamp carefully inside and plugged it in, sighing in relief when the bulb lit up and began to glow orange. “This lamp is designed for reptiles, not arthropods, so it may be too hot for extended use. However, it will work temporarily as a heat source to get rid of excess moisture, so I encourage you to use it.”

The drider was glaring up at him with the tiniest scowl he’d ever seen, front legs still lifted up defensively, but didn’t say a word.

“Do you speak?” Logan asked, and received only silence in return. “I suppose I should have guessed as much, seeing as you haven’t responded to any of my previous statements. Do you understand me? Do we speak the same language?”

The drider glared harder.

“I find it hard to believe that you have animal-level intelligence,” Logan continued, now mostly to himself. He lifted a hand, displaying the poncho he still held. “Although some birds can ‘sew’, construction of clothing to cover one’s form is a complex and distinctly human sentiment.”

Still, nothing. Their gaze was caught by the poncho for a moment before they looked away entirely, looking for all the world to be sulking.

Logan sighed, and then slowly moved to place the poncho next to the heat lamp, laying it out flat for easier drying. “I’m going to attend to my morning routine. It should only take me a few moments, but please feel free to call or make noise if you need my attention between now and then.”

The drider’s expression had eased into confusion at the sight of their garment laid out before them, but their legs remained warily upright as Logan left the room.

As promised, he only made a brief stop to make sure both of his roommates were still soundly asleep before climbing into the shower and preparing himself for the day, roughly fifteen minutes behind schedule.

It wasn’t too disruptive-- it had eaten into the time he normally allotted for sitting at the table and eating breakfast, so that would have to be skipped today, but it wasn’t the end of the world.

Honestly, he’d likely spend the rest of the day thinking about the surprise addition to his morning. There were so many questions he’d love to ask, but seeing as the creature had attempted to hide their existence even at risk of being perceived as a normal spider (and therefore possibly squashed), he expected he wouldn’t be receiving any answers.

Talkative or not, the drider clearly had sapient levels of intelligence, and Logan was loath to start off humanity’s relationship with a vulnerable and secretive species by keeping them trapped in a snake terrarium against their will.

Even if he was willing to weigh scientific advancement over his morals, his roommates would never allow it. Patton would naturally be terrified and possibly sympathetic when witnessing their clear terror, and he’d had enough extensive debates on ethics with Janus to know that his opinion on keeping them captive would be much the same.

So, when he returned to the kitchen and saw them toppling over and scurrying back from the heat lamp that they’d clearly been attempting to use as a makeshift ladder to freedom, Logan didn’t bother commenting, simply moving forward and looking them over.

“You seem to have mostly dried,” he stated instead, able to appreciate the subtle design work of the poncho better now that it wasn’t being used as camouflage. The drider gripped it like they thought he might take it away.

They would react fairly badly to him reaching out with his hand, and reasonably so. Logan hadn’t exactly done much except douse, capture, and then gently interrogate them. Not exactly trustworthy behavior.

He studied the terrarium for a moment before grabbing a washcloth and draping it over the side, providing an easy textured surface for the spider to climb up. There. “You are free to go.”

The surprised expression that flashed across their face was almost comical.

“I’m not sure what your purpose in the bathroom was, but I’d ask you to be more careful in the future. One of my roommates…,” Logan sighed through his nose, exasperated even imagining it. “Well, suffice to say you should avoid him at all costs.”

The tiny drider continued to stare at him, gaze occasionally flickering over to the towel with clear suspicion. It was saddening to be so distrusted, but perhaps this show of goodwill would help prove that he didn’t intend any harm? He hoped he hadn’t frightened them from the residence entirely-- he shuddered at the many, many potential dangers the creature would find outside.

“My roommates will wake later in the day, so if you intend to avoid their notice, I’d suggest leaving the enclosure as soon as I have departed for work,” he gave a little farewell wave, not reacting to the slight flinch it elicited from the little guy. “It-- well, you probably don’t share the sentiment, but still-- it was nice to meet you. Goodbye.”

Forcing himself not to turn back and get one last look, Logan hurried out the door.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides g/t #ts logan #ts virgil #tiny drider au #drider #mere monstrosity #mm #g/t #spiders tw #well just one but yknow #sorry for late posting i forgot it was saturday #time is fake #my writing #writing

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cvtqr · 3 years

Text

hey roomie!

pairings; eren jaeger x reader

content warning; eren jaeger x f!reader

content warning; friends to lovers, masturbation, unprotected sex, cream pie

being eren jaeger’s roommate was... well, challenging. he was always up late doing extra work his boss assigned him, bringing his friends over, his brother barging in once a day.

you didn’t want to move out though, i mean you could never afford a place on your own. plus you had a good relationship with eren. you were connected through your cousin reiner in college. you guys got pretty close and by graduation the both of you decided to share an apartment for expense reasons.

as of right now, eren was interning at a company called scout. a business ran by no other than the semi-famous, and extremely handsome, erwin smith. eren was working in one of the offices managed by levi ackerman. you figured having someone as powerful and smart as levi guiding you, eren was going places in that company.

as for you, you were currently employed in a bar and grill restaurant called marleys.

“i’m headin’ out, see ya galli!”

“see ya tomorrow, text me in the morning.”

friday nights were usually the worst over at marleys, but today was different. some new workers joined the crew and my boss, galliard, wanted to see how they handled the pressure of a packed night. considering that, he gave me the night off.

living with eren for almost a year i’ve come to take notice of his schedule. every friday i get the notification someone’s at our front door at the same time. 12 am is when he comes home on fridays. it’s been like that since the first few weeks you guys lived together while you were still unemployed.

at least it’s only 7pm now. i can finally have some peace and quiet time to myself with no distraction. once i got home the first thing i did was change into my pajamas. it felt nice not having to worry about closing doors or anything, at least for the time being. eren wouldn’t be home for another 4 and a half hours so you could sit in the living room naked for all you cared.

you didn’t have to do anything but enjoy the peace and quiet, so that’s what you did. you plopped down on top of your made bed and just looked around. that was until your eyes met the picture collage on your night stand. specifically the one picture in the collage.

it was from last summer, you and all your friends at a pool party. the one person you had your eyes on though, was eren. how he looked with his shirt off, his damp hair thrown into a messy bun, his swimming trunks wet from just getting out of the water. to top it off, a smug grin on his face while wrapping his arm around you as you sat on his lap. completely innocent of course, there just wasn’t enough room for everyone to fit in the frame of the shot.

you don’t know what got into you during the next few minutes, but some how your hand found the hem of your pants. slowly bringing it down you started to rub circles around your clothed clit, all while thinking of your roommate. as the heat in your pants began to grow, you finally decided to let loose.

you pulled your pants, along with your panties, down and disregarded them on the floor, flipping back onto your side. you were on full display for anyone who walked in and turned down the small hallway of the apartment. you didn’t even consider the possibility of eren coming back home early. no, you didn’t even think of getting up to shut the bedroom door. was it because some part of you wanted him to come home early and see you?

it was dark in the apartment when eren got home. the only sort of light reflecting was the dim light of your lamp coming out of your bedroom. walking over to put his stuff down on the counter, he turned on the main lights.

if you weren’t digging your fingers into your cunt fantasizing about your roommate, so good to the point where you had to squeeze your eyes shut? then maybe you could’ve heard him come in and just maybe you could’ve seen the kitchen and living room light up.

but he heard you first.

not only was the small light coming out of your room, but soft little moans and grunts.

sneaking quietly to the door of your room, eren rested on your door frame, you still not noticing him. he figured you were too deep in your thoughts, and your cunt, to hear him.

that was until you felt your orgasm building up.

“e-eren”

“i’m over here, y/n.”

you quickly realized that you weren’t hearing things and that for the first time in almost a year, eren came home and early. you quickly pulled your fingers out and reached over to your throw blanket, now covering you bottom half.

oh god he’s going to kick me out. he doesn’t want to live with such a pervert. some roomate, masturbating to the mere thought of him. that was all your brain could comprehend as eren walked over to you and took a spot on the edge of your bed.

“you know, i was going to let you be and go fuck my fist to the sound of your pretty little whimpers. but now i know you were thinking of me. i figured you’d wanna help me out with my ‘issue’ ”

what. i mean of course you weren’t going to deny. but will this change anything between the two of you? fuck it’s already changed after that

“will it change anything between us? like- would we still be good friends and roommat-“

“stop worrying so much, y/n. i just admitted to getting off to the thought of you, after i actually just walked into you doing the same exact thing.”

he crawled over your bed and landed hovering over you.

“things are already different”

he leaned down and captured his lips with yours. more of a gentle, passionate kiss, which led to a more rougher one just a few seconds later.

“want you eren.” you mumbled out between kisses

your hands trailed down to the belt of his pants before he slapped them away.

“i’m not giving you anything until you’re more specific. what do you want now, sweet girl?”

“want your cock, i want your cock eren!”

his hands trailed down to the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it over you. the second you were exposed to him, his mouth latched onto you, sucking dark marks onto the flesh of your brest. his other hand now working on the other one, swirling around the sensitive nub.

after he was satisfied with all the whispers coming out of your sweet mouth he looked back up at you.

“want my cock hm?”

you never nodded your head so quickly in your life

“a little more specific baby... come on your so close!”

“want it, want it in my pussy, please eren. just please fuck me already.” at this point you were about to cry for him

“good, i think you deserve your reward for using your big girl words.”

moving your hands back down to his pants, you successfully removed his belt, this time without him slapping you away.

but it was him that quickly shuffled his pants and boxers down.

“i’m on the pill as long as you’re clean.”

his cock twitched at the thought of fucking you raw, his cum filling you up.

before you knew it, eren had pinned your arms above your head with one hand, using the other to guide your hips up. his large cock entered you and he bottomed out.

giving him a nod of approval, he slowly pulled back out, before harshly thrusting right back in. your legs quickly wrapped around his hips, pulling him in closer. his hands let go of your wrists, he was now using it to hold your chest down as he sucked and nipped at your neck. your hands held onto his shoulders, tugging onto his shirt.

without missing a thrust, he slid his shirt off with just one hand, soon returning to work on your neck. your hand met with his now bare shoulder, slightly digging your nails into it. your other hand found it’s way to erens hair, tangling into his messy bun. right as your hand met his hair, he pounded right into your g-spot.

this caused you to let out a loud moan, almost sounding like a scream of pleasure. your hand tightly gripped around his hair. harshly pulling it back.

“fuuuuck, that’s it? that’s the spot isn’t it?”

the only answer he needed is when you let out the same reaction once he hit over that same spot again. he had won you. he continued to abuse your g-spot all while you roughly tugged his hair back.

the wave of pleasure the two of your were experiencing was mesmerizing.

“fuck eren, i’m gonna-”

before you could even finish your sentence you creamed all over eren’s cock.

“please let me, inside, fuuck please.”

once he got the soon nod of approval, he poured his cum out. he did what he’s been fantasizing about since college. he finally fucked you and came inside. and he came hard.

when he pulled out the mixture of cum started to leak out of your hole. that was when eren used his figures to push it back in.

“no, no, not one drop of this is going to be wasted. you understand?”

#attack on titan #attack on titan smut #aot #aot smut #attack on titan x reader #anime #anime smut #snk #snk x reader #snk smut #eren jaeger #eren yaegar #eren x reader #eren smut #eren jaeger smut

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tobesoalive · 3 years

Text

latch (Sam Kiszka x reader)

hey guys here's the little Sam enemies to lovers smut that was requested! idc if it’s a bit cheesy, I had a ton of fun writing it so please please please send in more requests! I love helping your ideas come to life!

Warnings: Smut (Oral-f and m receiving, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex)

Friday had finally rolled around and you were more than ready. After a long week of classes and work you were more than ready to have some fun tonight. You and your roommates were going to have some people over tonight to celebrate your second year of college almost being over. You had come up with the idea last weekend and quickly made a list of who all should be invited. There was one person on the guest list that you were dreading to see, no other than Samuel Kiszka.

You had met a kid named Danny Wagner in your first class freshman year, and you two became fast friends, sharing many of the same interests and hobbies. Together you and Danny were a dynamic duo, and you always made each other laugh. People often thought you were dating, but he already had a beautiful girlfriend back home. Danny also had another person constantly attached at his hip, Sam Kiszka, you’d almost think they were the ones dating.

Sam was a lanky kid with sharp features and an extremely annoying god complex. He really thought he was the absolute shit and that everyone was in awe of him. Quite honestly many people were, but you saw right through it. You found him to be arrogant and rude, and you were always disappointed to see him when you went over to Danny’s place, even though he was his roommate. Sam would often show up unannounced at your place too, mostly with Danny, but a couple of times he showed up alone. You were always polite, inviting him in like the good host you are, and you two ended up watching a movie together, and much to your surprise, in these times he was almost tolerable. Almost. He would make a snide remark or joke that would infuriate you, but he wouldn’t stick around for long, usually having somewhere to be. That somewhere was usually the bed of another girl, but they probably didn’t just watch movies.

That was another reason you couldn’t stand Sam. Last year you had a crush on him and he would do the thing where he would play with your emotion, hang out with you and flirt with you only to immediately go and fuck random girls. It hurt you, a lot, but you eventually got over it, losing the romantic feelings, or rather pushing them deep down where you’d hope they’d never surface again.

Now people were going to be at your house in an hour and you haven't even showered. It didn’t really matter though, you weren’t all too concerned with what other people thought of your appearance, so what if your hair was a little wet. You quickly rinsed off in a cold shower, then changed into a simple outfit for the night, flared corduroys and a crocheted tank top.

That was the other thing, you’d think you were exactly Sam’s type, he seemed like he would be into girls who were more artistic and down to earth, but all the girls he hooked up with seemed like they spent most of their time thinking about themselves. Not that there was anything wrong with those girls, you weren’t the “pick me” type, but it seemed like Sam would care about that kind of thing. Whatever, you don’t even like him anyways, he’s more of a nuisance than anything.

You had finished a seltzer by the time people started arriving, the playlist you and your roommates curated playing throughout the apartment. Being with your friends always made you very energetic, and people always said they liked being around you. You could get a crowd laughing in no time. People were coming through the doors and when there were about 75% of the people there, your partner in crime finally arrived. “Wagner!” you shouted across the room in a dumb accent, already a little buzzed. “Where art thou good friend?!” Danny yelled back, matching your accent as you two finally made your way to each other, wrapping him in a friendly embrace. “Where’s your obnoxious sidekick?” you whispered into his ear.

“Don’t worry he’s here. I know how you were just dying to see him.”

“Oh aren’t I always?” you responded with a sarcastic smile

“I still think you need to give him a chance, you’d probably really like him.”

Before you could even respond, he was running up behind Danny and lifting him up by his waist.

��Well if it isn’t dumb and dumber!” you exclaim before Sam comes up and wraps his arm around your shoulder.

“Oh come on (y/l/n), you love me!”

“Haha good one Kiszka, now why don’t we do something I actually love.”

“And what would that be?” Danny questions.

“Take a shot and dance our asses off!” you yell. If you were going to deal with Sam you needed to be a little more intoxicated.

You gathered your roommates and the boys and took them to the kitchen and got out the glasses.

“To friendship!” you yelled

Right then you caught danny say something quietly, and it looked like he was saying “Or more than friendship”

That made you stop for a second before throwing your head back and downing the shot.

“Ok let's get back out there” your roommate says as she pulls you by the arm.

You spend about the next half hour dancing with all your friends, taking hits of joints and drinking. You and Danny did a silly little dance you had come up with last year when you would get drunk in your dorms and do dumb shit. Mid-routine he slipped and pulled you down with him, both of you laughing your asses off. You felt someone grab your arm and help you up as the song changed, “Latch” by Sam Smith blasting through the speakers, one of the best party songs probably ever. The person who had grabbed you wrapped their arms around your waist, swaying back and forth with you to the music. You loosened the stranger’s grip and spun around only to be met with the face of that little shit, Sam.

“C’mon kid can’t you at least try to tolerate me for one song”

“Who ever said you were intolerable?” you respond, admiring how the dim light highlighted his features.

He leaned in close to your ear and lowly whispered in it “You think I can’t see it. Whenever you’re around me you act like it’s charity work.”

You pull back to look him in the eyes and say “It wasn’t always that way. Now let's get back to what we were doing. I like this song more than I like you, which is quite a lot.”

He gives you a grin before you start moving your body against him, and by the end of the song he’s staring at you in complete awe.

Once the song ended you broke free from his grasp. “See you later Kiszka” you say with a wink, turning around and disappearing into the crowd.

Your stomach was in knots, and not from disgust. The moment you just had brought up a lot of emotions, mostly about your romantic feelings for Sam but also the resentment you felt towards him. Fuck, you were in deep now. Things would be so much easier if you never had to see him again and all of this could go away. But alas, you needed to suck it up so you could still have a close relationship with Danny. Plus in about twenty minutes Sam would probably be grinding on another girl. Screw it, you were going to have a good time with your friends, you didn’t need Sam to be happy.

The rest of the night you avoided Sam, giving him zero of the attention he was craving. A couple hours later people were leaving your home or asleep somewhere in the living room, bathroom, kitchen you name it. Thankfully though, your room remained empty, you needed some space to think.

Everyone was asleep and the house was quiet, you threw on a pair of boxer shorts and an oversized Led Zeppelin shirt, passed down to you from Danny. You went to the kitchen and drank probably a gallon of water, making one last pit stop to the bathroom to pee and brush your teeth. No matter how tired you felt you knew you'd thank yourself in the morning. Finally you were on the way back to your room when you stopped in the doorway. Sam was standing in there, looking at all your decorations and your extensive vinyl collection.

“You’ve changed some stuff since the last time I was here”

“Yeah, I like to rearrange stuff y'know? keep it new and interesting.” You remarked, rubbing the back of your neck and yawning, trying to hide your obvious panic. This is the last thing you were hoping for, being confronted one on one with the man himself.

“Are you cool if I stay here tonight? Daniel is passed out on the couch and I don’t feel like making the walk home alone.”

“Of course...did you want to sleep in here?” you ask before you could even stop the words from coming out of your mouth. Fuck, you were a dumbass.

“If that’s okay with you, sleeping next to a stranger wouldn’t be my first choice.”

“You never had a problem being in a stranger’s bed before” you mumbled, looking at the floor.

He didn’t say anything, just turned his head to stare at you for a second, his eyes seeming almost apologetic.

“Well you might as well get comfortable” you tell him as you turn off the lights and flick the lamp on.

“Do you have a shirt I could borrow? I don’t really wanna sleep in jeans and a sweaty shirt.”

“Would you like an old one of Danny’s or one of mine?” you tease him, grabbing out yet another old band shirt of his roommate’s.

While he’s changing you turn away and busy yourself with lighting some incense and pulling the covers back, to avoid seeing his bare torso.

“Can I throw on a record? I can never get to sleep in the silence.”

“Help yourself” you say, but he already has a selection in his hands, Michigan by Sufjan Stevens, one of your favorites.

“Wonderful choice, but I imagine you’re a bit biased.” you say to him, both he and Danny were from the same town in Michigan and had to let everyone know.

“I just wanted something calm and serene, compared to all the fast paced stuff we’ve been blasting for the whole night.”

“Well it was a party Samuel, you have to give the people what they want” you tell him as you climb into bed.

Sam grabs for one of the pillows and a blanket, but you stop him.

“Were you gonna sleep on the floor like a dog? I don’t give a shit whether or not we share the bed.”

“I just assumed...I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable...or anything.”

“You might be surprised by this but I actually feel pretty safe around you” you confess to him. Fuck, you were still slightly intoxicated so your filter was off. It’s okay, he was still a little drunk too it seemed.

“Do you mind if I take my pants off?” he asks you with a sincere look on his face.

You can’t help but burst out laughing, finding his awkwardness and the absurdity of the comment quite hilarious.

“I’d prefer it to your rough jeans...as long as you’re wearing underwear.”

“C’mon I’m not that much of a freak” he says as he pulls down his zipper and clumsily kicks his pants off.

You couldn’t help but stare for a moment, he looked gorgeous quite honestly, long hair tangled, old shirt hanging off his shoulders and shark boxer briefs stopping at his mid thigh.

“Okay Kiszka, get in here before I change my mind.”

He pulls back the sheets and crawls in, laying his head on the pillow facing you.

“I’m sorry” he says, looking deeply in your eyes, seeming almost ashamed.

“About what?” you knew you shouldn’t feed into this, whatever was going on here was completely platonic and wouldn’t mean anything in the morning.

“Everything. Being such a dick to you. Leading you on. I promise that’s not me, I just, I honestly don’t know how to act around you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just the one person who actually kinda intimidates me. Or at least my feelings for you intimidate me.” he sighs.

“Is that why you are always fucking other girls and telling people about it when I’m around?”

“God you’re not going to take it easy on me, are you?”

“Why should I?”

“You shouldn’t. With the way I’ve treated you I honestly don’t expect anything from you, I just couldn’t hold it in any longer and I thought this was as good of a time as any.”

“Sam, can I be honest with you?”

“Of course”

“I actually don’t hate you at all like you seem to think. I can’t stand you because I really do like you, but I gave up on anything happening a long time ago.”

“Well you did a pretty good job of hiding it” he says, moving a little closer to you to the point where your noses were almost touching, the feeling of his breath giving you goosebumps. The music hummed softly in the background as you thought for a second.

“Sam don’t hate me but we’re both kinda drunk and I don't wanna do anything right now. I wanna be there for it, like fully there.”

“I was actually hoping you’d say that. I wanna take in every detail and remember it all. You’re not just another drunken hookup.”

You can’t help but give a soft smile, your cheeks going red.

“Well maybe I wouldn’t be opposed to a bit of cuddling”

“Neither would I” he says as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in close as you bury your head in his chest, taking in his scent.

Something overtakes you, and you tilt your head up and press a soft kiss to his collarbone.

“Goodnight Samuel”

“Goodninght kid” he whispers, pressing his lips to the top of your head, and you can feel him breathing in your scent as well, elated to finally feel wanted.

********************************************************************************************************

You wake up to sunlight streaming through your curtains, turning to look at your clock but instead being met with Sam’s chest.

You were sober enough last night to remember everything that happened, Sam’s feelings for you coming to light and vice versa. It made you almost giddy with excitement, not being able to wait until his eyes opened.

You played with his hair, running your fingers through it and moving it from his neck, replacing it with your lips. Soon enough he’s stretching his arms and yawning.

“Any reason you needed to wake me up at 7 am?” he asked you, looking down at you as the pad of his thumb brushed across your cheek.

“Just couldn’t wait to see you I guess”

“That's a first” he says sarcastically, once again staring deep into your eyes.

You could hear the birds singing outside and a refreshing spring breeze made its way into your room through the open window.

You stared at each other for a second longer before he whispered “Can I?”

You nodded your head yes and he dipped his head down to capture your lips in a kiss. It started off sweet and then your lips started moving in a rhythm, his hands grabbing your legs and pulling you onto his lap. He kept kissing you as your tongue made its way into his mouth, causing his hips to buck up into you. You pulled back and let out a soft sigh, basking in the feeling of him growing hard against your core. He took this as an opportunity to attach his lips to your neck, sucking at the delicate skin and leaving little nips.

“Can I take this off?” you ask him, hands grabbing at the hem of his shirt.

“Please” he groans against your neck.

You pull it off and instantly your hands run along the expanse of his smooth skin, admiring every freckle and mole, fingertips brushing across his nipples. You pull your hands away to pull your own shirt off, blushing a bit, slightly embarrassed to show yourself to him. He takes a moment to stare at the newly exposed skin, pulling you down into a kiss a moment later and mumbling “You’re absolutely stunning” into your lips.

“You’re not too bad yourself” you say with a smile spreading across your face, quickly losing it as you bite your lip when he starts to move his hips once again, his bulge rubbing deliciously against your already wet core.

“I need more of you” he grunts, obviously frustrated.

You tangle your hands in his hair and pull his head back a bit, looking down into his eyes before saying “then have me”, pulling him into a kiss.

In a swift movement he flips you both over, kneeling with his legs on either side of you.

“These need to come off” he says, tugging at the waistband of the boxers you slept in. As he pulled them off and the cold air hit your core, you couldn’t help but drink all of him in, admiring just how gorgeous he looked, as if he was sculpted by the gods himself. That moment ended when you felt his middle finger run lightly up and down your slit. You threw your head back and closed your eyes, concentrating on the feeling of his skin on yours.

“Please Sammy, I need you” you say, surprised at yourself for using that nickname with him.

He looks at you and smiles before lowering his gaze to your dripping cunt, furrowing his brows as he pushes his long finger inside of you. You mewl as he pushes it down to the last knuckle, letting you adjust for a moment before starting to slowly pump in and out.

“Fuck you’re tight. So much better than I imagined.”

“So you’ve thought about this before?” You smirk at him, turning your eyes to look at the sight of his finger pumping in and out.

“Quite a lot actually, I’ve thought a lot about how you taste too” he says before readjusting himself so his head is buried in between your thighs. It only takes a second for his tongue to find your clit as he inserts another finger and starts to pump a little faster.

“Fuck you’re good at this” you say as you let out a breathy moan, hands once again finding their way into his hair. That causes him to moan around your clit, sending vibrations through your whole body. You don’t know how much longer you’d be able to last, with Sam lapping at you like it’s his last meal.

You pull his hair, forcing his lips to part from your sensitive bud, pulling him into a sloppy kiss.

“I wanna taste you too” you say before getting up and kneeling on the floor in front of your brd, motioning him to sit with his legs over the side, facing you. You look up at him as you pull his boxers down, length hitting his stomach. You take a second to admire it, with its pink head, a large vein running up the bottom. It was a nice length, with quite a bit of girth to it, surrounded by a small patch of pubic hair. As you wrapped your hand around it you said “not to be weird or anything but your dick is gorgeous”, causing him to let out a light laugh that was quickly stifled when you wrapped your head around the tip of his cock. His fingers intertwined with your hair, lightly pulling it, not forcing you down on his dick like some guys do. You gently moved your head up and down, taking as much of him as you could in your mouth and using your hand to stroke the rest.

“Fuck I need to be inside of you” he groans, tugging at your hair, causing you to pull your mouth off his dick with a small pop.

“Can I ride you?” you question as you make your way back onto the bed.

“Fuck yes, I can’t promise how long I’ll last though” he says, pulling you in for another kiss as you line him up up with your entrance. You run his tip along your slit a few times before slowly starting to lower yourself down, taking your time to adjust to his size. Once he’s fully sheathed inside of you, he throws his head back, letting out a guttural moan.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“So have I” you say before starting to slowly move yourself up and down on him.

It’s lazy and sweet, not perfect or anything, but nothing about this situation really was. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Fuck” he remarks as he grabs your hips, fingers sinking into your skin,helping you move up and down on his delicious cock.

“You fill me up so perfectly, god you feel so good”

“I guess it was meant to be baby” he says with a grin, putting his fingers in his mouth then moving them down to rub circles around your clit.

“Fuck Kiszka, if you keep taht up I’m gonna cum.”

“That was my goal, I’m close too” he breathes out as he buries his head in your neck.

You clutch the back of his head as you start to move yourself up and down faster, fucking yourself on his cock.

“Fuck Sam I’m gonna cum”

“Me too babe, where do you want me to?” he asks shakily.

The only word you can muster out is “Inside” as you approach your peak, clenching around him once more before tipping over the edge.

It’s complete bliss as you ride out your high, feeling him give one last deep thrust into you before coating your walls with his warm ropes of seed.

You collapse against him, nuzzling your head into his neck, pressing sloppy open mouthed kisses as you both catch your breath.

He pushes your hair to the side, leaving his lips on your temple while he remains sheathed inside you.

“Thank you” he says, still regaining his breath and returning to reality.

“Don’t leave me” you say softly into his ear.

“I wouldn’t for the world, don’t you worry kid.”

You sit up and look into his soft brown eyes, taking in how much things have changed in the past few hours.

“I don’t hate you. Not in the least. I just hated the idea of not being with you.”

“Same here, but we don’t have to feel that anymore. I’m sorry for the way I treated you. You deserve the world, and I want to try my hardest to give it to you.”

“Thank you Samuel, I’ll try to do the same.”

You give him one last long kiss before pulling back, pushing his hair behind his ear and saying “C’mon loverboy, let’s go get some breakfast.”

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lucyintheskywithxanax · 3 years

Text

Different Kinds of Falls

Request : autumn themed + underwear store with Wilhemina

A/N: @blacksmokieee25 since you’re probably not going to bed until the sun rises, I’m posting this now. Happy birthday lovely ^^ I tried lacing together your two requests and came up with this weird, vignette fic that I hope you’ll like. I hope your 23rd year will bring you love and happiness. I’m very glad I know you xx

Warnings: a tiny little bit of smut and a lot of bad English

Word count: ≃ 4 600

She was like a princess in a fairytale, trapped in a tower and waiting for someone to save her from isolation. Except no one had come. She would have to do the saving herself.

But she was too tired, she protested. She couldn’t do the saving. She said, Because to save someone, you have to think they are worthy, you have to love them at least a little. And the dragon keeping me prisoner – that dragon is me. I cannot save myself for I do not think I’m worthy.

All this of course she didn’t say. You thought it yourself, as you lay in bed watching her, the sheet pulled up high so she could hide herself – she wouldn’t say she’s hiding, she would say she’s cold. You had been reading The Island of Doctor Moreau next to her, a little appalled, a little sleepy, until you had come upon one sentence and stopped. Now you stood watching her as the sentence played in your head like a record spinning again and again.

The Thing that bled and ran screaming and sobbing – that is dead, too.

Wilhemina felt your gaze on her and glanced at you, looking as if she couldn’t quite believe she had allowed you to lie half naked in her bed like that. She looked a little fierce, you thought, a little too mean for a lover. She looked like she didn’t quite know how to let herself be loved.

You gave her a smile and ran one finger down her cheek, along her jaw to her chin, down her neck. Wilhemina’s brow furrowed, shoulders tensing as your finger reached the collar of her nightdress.

Will you let me see you naked? you wanted to ask, just a whisper so as not to scare her.

Of course you didn’t.

You wouldn’t make a good hero, you thought. You would make a terrible knight. The one who always runs away first, who says bad jokes to make up for her cowardice and her overwhelming fear of love.

You would take one look at the dragon and leave the princess in her tower.

The Thing that bled and ran screaming and sobbing – that is thriving, too.

But consider, you thought, as Wilhemina, still frowning, leaned in to plant a kiss on your lips: what if you saw the princess before you saw the dragon. What if the princess saw you. Doesn’t love make the lovers brave?

Wilhemina’s kisses were often clumsy. They were always terrified, that this kiss would be the last, that after it would only come the bite of her own teeth and the burn of her tears. Her fingers slid behind your neck and clutched your hair. She pressed herself against you.

As you guided her head to your neck and closed your eyes, you slipped your hand under her nightdress to feel the skin of her shoulder. Brave? Or stupid? Wilhemina’s breath hitched.

She pressed herself deeper into you.

The Thing that bled and ran screaming and sobbing – that is dying, too.

“It’s alright,” you tried, both hands held up, wide eyes quickly shifting from Wilhemina’s face to the fragments of glass on the floor and her bare feet. “Be careful, I can take care of it.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” she snapped. Her hand was pressed against her chest, fingers clutching the towel wrapped around her body as if it were the last remaining piece of her broken armor.

You winced.

“It’s alright,” you tried again. “I –”

“Get out!”

You met her eyes again, wide with fear and fury because you had walked into the bedroom as she was getting dressed, and you had almost seen her, and in her hurry to hide from you she had knocked over the vase with the flowers that she had bought for you three days ago.

“Mina – ”

“Y/N if you do not get out of my sight in the next two seconds I will hurt you.” Voice breaking, hands shaking.

Still you hesitated.

Wilhemina grabbed a pillow – the beside lamp was nearer – and threw it at you.

“GET OUT!”

She never screamed. It was that scream that made you obey.

You stood behind the closed door and listened as she cried.

She didn’t believe that you could love her. And yet she felt it, in the way you kissed her, and she saw it shining in your eyes, and in your smile, and she heard it in your voice too. So she tried to find an explanation. You were lonely, in need of company, and a good actress. You were smitten and infatuation blinded you but it wouldn’t last. You were an angel. You had taken pity on her.

She couldn’t find a reason. Some nights it made her so angry she felt like smashing all your things or – even better – destroying herself. She wanted to hurt you and to pull the truth out of your throat so she would understand why and how you were smiling at her like that.

She didn’t believe that you would stay and she didn’t understand why you were here in the first place, but she found that she rather liked your presence. Loved. So she fought against her impulse to be mean and agreed to sometimes share a few things with you; things that lived at the surface, not the big, the dark, the important things that lived deep within her – there was no point sharing those. She hid those and she hid her shame so maybe you would stay a little longer than you had planned.

It was selfish, she knew it. But she was way past selfishness.

You met her on a Saturday afternoon. It was the fall and outside the leaves were falling.

You were scrolling on your phone as you sat, bored, on a chair by the fitting rooms, waiting for your roommate who was trying on the new sexy underwear she’d need in case she successfully seduced the boy who had just moved in next door.

You were distracted by an unfamiliar sound, and looked up just as a woman walked in, supporting herself on a cane and looking as if she owned the whole world. It seemed to you even her nostrils flared a little, in outrage that some servant hadn’t sprayed myrrh or sandal wood in the air to celebrate her arrival.

You eyed her as she passed you, and quickly lowered your gaze as hers met yours. Her eyes were dark. Cold. Glazed.

This woman is scared, you thought, without knowing where the thought came from. She’s terrified.

Just as you were glancing up at her again, your roommate burst out from her fitting room with her arms thrown up in triumph and crashed right into the woman.

The shock sent her stumbling backwards, until her legs bumped into your knees and she fell onto your lap.

Instinctively your hands fell on either side of her waist to steady her, and you felt her flinch and tense up.

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped.

And already she was pushing herself up onto her feet, and you sat as if petrified on your chair, your cheeks flushed, your hands still held up, the reminder of how she had felt burning low right under your skin.

Your roommate immediately walked up to the woman with an apologetic expression on her face and one hand raised as if to touch her shoulder, but she was stopped by the loud, threatening noise of her cane hitting the ground.

The sudden noise broke the trance you had fallen into. You jumped, remembered where you were, became aware that your roommate was wearing a low-cut black lace nightdress that barely hid her body. And the woman was staring at her with anger burning like a low fire in her eyes, but the rest of her face was completely blank, unreadable, terrible.

Your roommate cleared her throat, and decided her safest option was to ignore her. She turned to you, opened her arms and asked in a voice which, to her credit, barely shook at all: “How do I look?”

“Horrendous,” the woman said, her voice quiet and low but laced with contempt and mockery.

What happened next you saw as a movie on a big screen. It felt unreal, somehow, but most of all it felt scripted; part of you already knew exactly what your role would be. It didn’t ask for your approval. It just happened.

Your roommate turned back towards the woman, fists clenching and eyes shining. “Excuse me?” she said, not quiet as the woman had, but loud, and angry.

The woman smirked. “I said,” she answered, still as slowly, “you look horrendous.”

“Then why don’t you try it on and we’ll see if you look any better!” your roommate nearly screamed.

Your gaze was riveted on the woman’s face, and you saw something uneasy flicker in her eyes.

Your roommate saw it, too. Her confidence flared up.

“Come on,” she laughed, taking one step forward. “Go get one your size and put it on I dare you.”

At that exact moment a vendor walked in, alerted by the noise, to peer curiously at the scene. The woman quickly scanned his face, assessing danger.

“Do you ladies need anything?” the vendor asked.

“Yes,” your roommate roared, “another nightdress and then stay with us, you can be our judge, you can decide if she looks any better than me wearing it.”

“I think you look very good,” the vendor said to your roommate politely.

“Ah!” your roommate exulted, turning to the woman again, her eyes burning their way down to rest on her cane, and then up again to sneer, her face shining with the certainty of her triumph.

That was when, as was scripted, you stood up. You didn’t become aware of your action until your roommate glanced curiously at you. And then you heard yourself speak, something about decency, about kindness, about you leaving if your roommate was going to be such an ass.

You didn’t know what you were saying. Your roommate’s expressions were your only guide. You saw surprise, and then anger. Her eyes narrowed a little. They told you it would take time for her to forgive such a betrayal.

Later, you would say that surely it had been fate pulling the strings. But back then, all that you knew was your body’s vibrating, burning, coming to life with the reminder of how the woman had felt.

“I didn’t need your help,” Wilhemina – Ms Venable? Wilhemina – snapped a few minutes later, as you walked out of the store together. The air was cold and already smelt of winter.

“Would you like to get a drink?” you heard yourself say.

She let out an incredulous laugh. “Certainly not.” Another laugh, eyes falling on your face, briefly, as if to make sure you were real.

“Does that mean I’ll never see you again?” was what you said next, and you would have blushed at the plea in your voice if you hadn’t been so intent on making her stay.

“We’ve barely talked,” Wilhemina said, face hardening, “why are you so interested in me?”

She was suspicious, wary, ready to jump at your throat. You didn’t know how to explain what was happening to you – the vibrating, the coming to life – without sounding like a complete fool.

“Let me walk you to your car,” you offered.

Wilhemina hesitated. Nodded.

When you reached her car, she stood with her back to the door and you laughed nervously and started rambling about the weather because you didn’t want to see her go just yet. You said how autumn was your favorite season because of all the colors and of all the smells. You said you wanted a life full of falls. You said, Falls as in the season, but also as in falling in love. Here you averted your eyes and felt yourself blush.

It wasn’t you talking. It couldn’t be. It was too bold.

You looked up again and said, Why don’t we go on a walk? and don’t stop, until we’ve found a leaf the exact same color as your hair.

At this very moment the breeze blew into Wilhemina’s eyes a strand of hair that had escaped her impeccable ponytail, and she raised her hand to brush it away, fingers gracefully grazing her skin with just a touch of annoyance, and you thought - Dear Lord, you thought, as one thinks who has just fallen in love.

But you didn’t believe in love at first sight, you reminded yourself. What was it, then? You had seen the dragon and you had seen the princess and they were the same.

But you were no hero. Curiosity? Or your soul whispering to her soul?

But wasn’t that love?

You took a peek. There was inside you the irresistible desire to know everything about her.

You insisted you gave her your number and she accepted it “to get rid of you.”

On the third day after that, she called you.

The full moon had risen a few minutes ago and the night shadows had retreated into the corners, where they lurked. You shifted closer to Wilhemina and nuzzled her neck with your nose.

“I’m sorry about the vase,” she whispered. You hummed. Her hand fell on your head. I’m sorry I snapped at you.

You pulled away to meet her eyes, and traced her brow with your thumb. The moonlight painted her in black and silver.

You trailed your finger over her shoulder and stopped at the collar of her nightdress.

“Will you let me see you?” you asked.

You were not sure you were brave enough to watch. But you asked anyway.

Her eyes met yours again. “Don’t forget the story of Lot’s wife,” she answered. “Orpheus and Eurydice. Medusa.”

You planted a kiss on her cheek.

“What these stories teach me is that everyone looks.”

“And they all die.”

“No. They all turn into something else.”

“Eurydice dies,” Wilhemina insisted.

“Are you afraid I’ll die if I see you?”

She shook her head. She let go of you. “It’s not the one who sees that dies. It’s the one who is seen.”

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?”

You propped yourself up on one elbow to watch her as she got up and crossed the room to the window. She closed it against the cold.

“Are you afraid I’ll leave you?” you insisted.

“I like you blind,” she said.

“But I’d love to see you.”

She turned, gave you a smile that shone a little defiantly. “When Oedipus finally saw, he stabbed himself in the eyes.”

You fell back on the bed with a groan. “Enough with mythology. We aren’t gods. We aren’t heroes.” You opened your arms to hold her close as she slowly made her way back to bed.

“Do we even know what we’re looking for?” you asked, bending to avoid a branch full of golden and red leaves.

“I do,” Wilhemina answered. “I spent yesterday evening reading about mushrooms.”

You grinned at her.

“One of us had to make sure we won’t die intoxicated,” she said, a little coldly.

“That’s very noble of you,” you teased.

This was about a month after you two had first met. You now spent most of your spare time together. Wilhemina had even stopped doing extra hours at work to spend them with you instead. Your roommate barely saw you anymore. She had complained about your absence and asked whether she should look for someone else.

You had always craved a strong connection with someone, and it seemed you had finally found it. You didn’t need words to communicate with Wilhemina, as if your soul and her soul were made of the same stuff. You could point at a star in the night sky and knew she felt the same about it. Knew you were understood.

You wanted to spend every second of every day with her.

Two nights ago, you had kissed her. You hadn’t expected it of yourself. It was too brave, too bold. That’s how you knew that you loved her.

She had frozen with her hand on your thigh, eyes wide open, breath caught in her throat, until suddenly something had changed and she had turned ravenous. She had kissed you back as if you were the ghost of a long-lost lover she was about to lose again, and the desperation she had poured into your mouth had made you fear that this was too much for one person to bear; too much need, too much anger, too much love required to fill the gaping, sucking black hole inside her. You had broken the kiss, panting, and almost run away. But the way she had held on to your wrist, the way she had looked at you, the feel of her on your lips – you had stayed.

None of you had mentioned the kiss since then. She seemed to be waiting for you to make the next move, and you weren’t sure you wanted to. Weren’t sure you were brave enough.

“Look here,” Wilhemina said, pointing at a small cluster of brown mushrooms half hidden under dead leaves.

You crouched down to examine them. “Yes,” you smiled, “these look like penny buns.”

You picked one for Wilhemina to look at.

“Butter, garlic and parsley,” you grinned, watching her as she inspected the mushroom, held delicately between two fingers. “One or two potatoes.”

Wilhemina hummed and cautiously put the mushroom in the basket she was holding.

You took the basket from her so you could hold her hand as you walked slowly down the path. Wilhemina glanced sideways at you, as if to make sure ill intent wasn’t shining in your eyes, before she pushed her palm against yours and laced her fingers with yours.

After a few minutes you stopped looking for mushrooms and gazed up at the beautiful leaves instead. The air was cold and crisp, and smelt of damp earth and decaying leaves. Every so often the sound of something falling – a dead branch, an acorn – reached your ears.

Wilhemina’s heart was drumming against your palm. Was it your touch, you wondered, that made it beat so fast?

She wasn’t looking at the ground either. She kept glancing at you. You knew this, because you kept glancing at her, too, and more than once you found her gaze already on your face. The first time your eyes met, you both blushed, and if Wilhemina quickly looked away, you found it impossible not to gaze at the dusting of pink on her cheeks.

“Look,” you breathed.

On your left between two oak trees was a small, round, dark pond. Its surface was half covered with leaves and you wouldn’t have noticed it at all if the wind hadn’t blown the branches above and sunlight hadn’t caught it. Wilhemina and you paused at the edge of it, hand in hand, to look at your reflections in the dark water.

“It looks like a fairy pond,” you whispered.

Wilhemina hummed her assent. You stroked your thumb over hers as you stared at her reflection, fully clothed, tall but with the edges trembling.

“If we stay here long enough maybe we’ll see a doe.”

“You’d never have the patience,” Wilhemina teased.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, “I would if we had something to do to keep each other busy.”

Something, very close, fell from a tree.

It felt like dissolving into the golden light – like becoming part of something beautiful – when Wilhemina gently pressed her lips to yours. The basket stood between you two, so she hastily set it down on the ground before she captured your lips again, shyly, so very delicately it made you tremble. As if you were something precious. Something to be treasured.

It was this gentleness that made you kiss her back.

When you broke the kiss, Wilhemina squinted in the sunlight that fell through the branches and directly into her eyes. Dear you, she looked so scared. You wanted to push her, to make her fall so she would know you would always catch her. You wanted her to do the same to you.

You started walking again. You were both so focused on the other that you forgot the basket. You remembered it five minutes later. You found it funny; Wilhemina’s jaw tightened with anger. It had never happened to her before, she assured you. She didn’t forget things. The implication made her shiver.

You walked back to the pond and found the basket on the moss where you had left it.

From where you were lying between her legs, you slipped your hand under her shirt to feel the warm softness of her tummy.

“Don’t you sometimes wish you didn’t have a body?” she asked.

You glanced up at her sleepily. She was reading your book, the one you had finished just a few days ago – you wondered if it was the same sentence that had caused her to stop.

You dropped a kiss on her hip. “I rather like having a body,” you answered. “And I love that you have one yourself. How would I kiss you otherwise?”

“Without a body, you wouldn’t need or want to kiss me.”

You considered, hand absentmindedly stroking her tummy.

“I don’t know,” Wilhemina went on. She was thumbing the book nervously, her eyes a little glazed. “It seems to me the body only brings its owner pain.”

“But I love your body,” you retorted.

“I am sick of it,” she said. “I am sick of the competition that comes with it. The pain, the probing, the examination.”

You watched her in silence. How could you tell her that some days when you woke up before dawn you would spend long minutes delighting in the sight of her body? And that you would press your lips on her skin to kiss, not who she was, but the body that you loved.

You took the book from her (you were starting to think that giving it to her in the first place hadn’t been the brightest of ideas. She had never told you the kind of surgeries she had undergone, the kind of names she had been called. You didn’t like the look on her face now) and put your arms around her waist. You pressed your cheek against her thigh and closed your eyes.

“I don’t like my body (she knew this already. You’d told her before). I think it’s too flat. And yet you find it beautiful. Maybe that’s mankind’s curse. Maybe that’s beauty’s curse. The beautiful doesn’t know it’s beautiful until someone comes along and tells it so.”

She started running her fingers through your hair, and you opened your eyes to find her gazing at you with a fond and thoughtful smile. She checked herself when your eyes met. Her face hardened a little.

“No need,” you smiled.

And then you were crawling up the bed, planting kisses on the strip of skin between her panties and her shirt, and then up her cleavage, smiling when she pushed her head back to give you better access to her neck. You twisted a strand of her hair around your finger – hair let down, only for you – and slid your other hand down to cup her center, determined to take her mind off the horrors she had read, or been reminded of.

You had made love before, but never entirely exposed, never entirely seen. Part of you loved it. Another part of you hated that you loved it. That part wanted you to stop being cowardly and to take the jump. To fall. Tear off the sheet, tear down the tower’s walls.

What terrified you the most was, there would be no going back, the day she would show you her back.

Your fingers started massaging her clit over her panties.

“How would you be able to feel me if you didn’t have a body?” you breathed, lips planting open-mouthed kisses up her neck.

Wilhemina’s only answer was a small, breathy whimper. She lifted her hips to push against your hand.

You followed the sound of her voice to her bedroom. She sounded afraid. You hurried.

“Y/N?”

“I’m right here,” you called, as your hand closed around the door handle. “Is today the day I’m going to,learn you’re terribly scared of spiders?” you joked, to try and curb the worry in you.

You pushed the door open, walked in and stopped as if suddenly turned into stone.

Wilhemina was standing with her back to you, facing the mirror on the wall. She was wearing the low-cut nightdress your roommate had dared her to try on all those months ago at the store. She was trembling.

You held her gaze in the mirror, unable to breathe, heart speeding up until all you could hear was its mad, terrified, elated gallop.

For a moment you stood completely still, not daring to look at her back, until the fear in Wilhemina’s eyes threatened to spill over, and you took a step forward.

Gently you gathered her hair in one hand and pushed it over her shoulder. Wilhemina’s gaze in the mirror glazed over, looked through you and at a place where she was safe and numb.

You took a deep breath. You watched.

A shiver ran through you as your gaze followed the diverted course of her spine, skin pulled taut over the bones. For a moment you watched with the awe-stricken eyes of one who is shown a terrible thing, terrible yet fascinating, for the watcher is safe from it. Then you swallowed, and forced your attention back on the importance of the moment.

You were still not breathing as you trailed your fingertips down her back to the black lace hugging her waist, and then back up again, lingering this time, stroking every scar.

Wilhemina’s breath hitched when you pressed your lips on her spine. Grazing her skin, planting a kiss. You rested your chin on her shoulder and waited for her to come back to you, pressing your front against her back to show her you were not disgusted, not disappointed, not running away.

When her gaze turned clear enough for her to see you again, you offered her a tender smile, and stroked up and down her arms.

Wilhemina drew in air through her teeth. “This kind of nightdress wasn’t made for people like me,” she breathed out.

“Nonsense,” you cut her off. “You look beautiful.”

And dear you, she did, with her eyes barely guarded now and the lace barely hiding the swell of her breasts, nipples peaking under the delicate fabric. Your arms wrapped around her waist to pull her closer against you.

“Thank you,” you breathed into her hair.

She nodded, but didn’t speak. She was still trembling against you.

“How are you feeling?”

She let out a self-deprecatory laugh. “Like I don’t want to be here.” She took hold of one of your hands. Her eyes glossed over.

“Does it terrify you,” you breathed, trailing your lips down her neck, “to know that I have seen you and found you beautiful?” A pause. Your heart was beating too fast. “That I have seen you and decided to stay?”

In the silence that followed you heard your words echo all around you. You had expected each one of them to sow a grain of fear inside you. That wasn’t what happened. Instead each one of them pulled up a fear sprout that had already been sown inside you.

Wilhemina’s eyes met yours in the mirror to share her surprise. For she was – okay? There had been no harsh landing? She let her body relax and she realized that, even though her mind was still very anxiously expecting danger, she wasn’t hurting. She was okay.

Tag list: @mssallymckenna @supremeinlilac @pluied-ete @rainbow-hedgehog @pearplate @angelxsarahp @paulawand @asktammyr @peggycarter-steverogers @coconutlipss @saucy-sapphic @thesupremewife @paulsonpills @billiedeansbottom @lilypadscoven @winslctrg @simpforpaulson @venablesgirl @mckennamayfairgoode @ka-s @lntlmate @talulahmae @mrsdeanhoward

#sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #wilhemina venable x reader #wilhemina venable #ahs #ahs imagines #fics

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hogwartsmarvelmommy · 3 years

Text

Empty Mugs and Unexpected Hugs (H.O) 🔥

Word count: 3.3K

Enemies to lovers

(HarrisonOsterfeildxReader)

Warnings: Smut (fingering, unprotected sex *Wrap it up*) cussing, that’s probably it..

🌼🌸 MASTERLIST 🌸🌼

With Tom came Harrison, you knew that. What you didn't know was when you had agreed to a roommate situation with Tom, you were also agreeing to one with Haz. “Tom, you said ‘would you like to live with me.’ not ‘me and Haz’” you told him as you stared at the blonde boy who was carrying box after box. He opted to do this shirtless, despite the cold London breeze. A sheen layer of sweat glistened on his overly defined chest, and you hated the way you longed to reach out and touch him.

“I figured you just knew?” Tom said coyly rubbing the back of his neck as he saw the way you stared down his best friend. He wasn't blind, he knew the hatred you supposedly had towards Haz was something with much deeper roots, but anytime he tried to figure it out, you would deflect and change the subject.

“I'm not doing either of your dishes,” you said loudly enough to catch Harrison's attention.

“Wouldn't expect you to, princess,” he winked at you. With a loud groan, and a dramatic flip of your hair, you proceed to your empty room to unpack your things.

Living with Tom and Harrison was way more entertaining than you had ever thought possible. Most nights were spent at the dining room table with one to many empty beer bottles laid out in front of you, while you laughed and joked about things that were probably not funny. Of course there were also the quiet days when Tom was away filming with Haz in tow, and on those days you would usually have the company of one or both of the twins.

“You should just admit you love him,” Sam said suddenly while you were taking a sip of your beer, causing you to spit your drink all over the table.

“Sammy!” You cried out the sting of beer in your nostrils. “I do not,”

“Y/N, It's written all over your face,” Harry argued. They were supposed to be on your side, you had been friends with the twins for years, the only reason you even knew Tom, was because of Sam and Harry..

“I do not love Harrison,” You told them, but even you were unconvinced by your own words.

It was late when you heard the front door to the flat open. The twins had left a few hours prior, Tom was in the states, and Harrison was with him, so who was coming into the apartment?

You were in just a shirt, an old one of Harrison's you had taken a while back, and a pair of cheeky underwear. Tip toeing to your bedroom door and grabbing a golf club from your bag, you proceeded to sneak down the hallway to the large living area where the front door was. Your heart was pounding with the thought of having to defend the place against an intruder, in just your underwear nonetheless. You saw a shadow, next to the couch, and raised the club ready to attack. As soon as you went for it, the lamp flicked on and Harrison saw you charging towards him with a golf club. Luckily he had fast reflexes, catching the club in one hand and your quickly moving body in the other. “Christ Y/N. What are you doing?” he asked, holding your body close to his. You felt your muscles relax into him, thankful he was in fact not an intruder, and you wouldn't have to explain why there was an intruder beaten and bloody by your hand to the authorities.

“I thought you were a robber,” You admitted coyly, stepping back a bit to look at him. His piercing blue eyes looked deep into yours, a small smile on his lips as his eyes trailed down your overly exposed body.

“So you would charge at an intruder with a bright pink putter, in just your underwear?” he asked you. “Also is that my shirt?” you could feel your cheeks heat up. You pushed away from his body with a scoff and turned to go back to your room, already done with him, but his hand caught your wrist, pulling your body back into his arms. His grip was tight as he held your body close to his. Something was off. Something was wrong. This was abnormal, Haz without Tom, and showing you any sort of affection.

“Hazzy, why are you home?” You asked, finally wrapping your arms around his waist, accepting the unexpected hug that you usually would not share with Him.

“Family stuff, I've been back for a few days. Just been with my mom,” He said, still holding you. You instinctively hug him tighter, getting the feeling that something bad had happened.

“You okay?” You asked him quietly. To which he just hummed into your head, still holding you.

“Better now,” He whispers. You're so confused, and exposed. You hear the twins' voices in the back of your head. ‘Just admit it, you love him.’ Was that what you had been feeling for months on end? Is that the feeling you were feeling now, making your stomach turn? “I missed you,” He whispers and you swear you could feel him press a kiss against the top of your head. It's too much, so suddenly.

“I need to..” you push your body away, scrambling to find any words to get you away, your mind is clouded by thoughts and feelings. “Pants,” You finally let out, leaving Harrison in the living room, stunned at how flustered you had become in the matter of a millisecond.

As soon as you're back in your room, you let out a groan, you're so confused. He missed you? You? y/n? Why would he miss you? All the two of you did was bicker, bicker and flirt. Flirt. Because you did in fact have feelings for Harrison. Feelings that were not not supposed to be had towards him..

“Y/N? Can I come in?” you haven't even put on pants yet when his voice calls to you through the closed door.

“Sure,” You call out to him, desperately searching your floor for the discarded sweats you had had on a few hours before. Nowhere, great. He cleared his throat from behind you, while you were bent over, ass on full display. Fully aware now, of how exposed you are you decide to just crawl under your blanket on your bed.

“Did I do something?” He asked, concern plastered all over his face.

“What? No, why would you think-”

“You just ran from me, like literally ran, after trying to attack me with a golf club,” He points out, making you cringe.

“I- Uh, yeah. I'm sorry about nearly attacking you,” You mumble, a little more embarrassed than you'd like to admit.

“So why'd you run away?” he pondered, watching you closely as you struggled to find your words. Unbeknownst to you Harrison was also having an internal crisis. You were Y/N. Someone Tom considered a little sister, Harry and Sam's best friend, but he couldn't help the way that you made him smile every time you couldn't open a jar, and would defeatedly ask him for help after way too long of attempting it yourself. Or the way you would curse at the line of dirt that you could never seem to sweep into the dustpan. The way you would always make a cup of tea before finishing the last, leaving so many mugs with a single drink all over the place, something that would drive any other person crazy, but he just found it endearing, and was sure if it ever stopped, he would miss it.

“You said you missed me,” You finally managed to say, making a smile spread over Harrison's lips. He took a chance, stepping into your room, towards where you were sitting on the bed, and when you didn't object, he crossed the empty space sitting right next to you.

“I did miss you,” He said, grabbing your hand and squeezing it gently.

“We fight, and argue,” You started, obviously ready to explain all the reasons he shouldn't have missed you.

“And we flirt, and share memories, and glances. You drive me nuts y/n. But the second I step out that door, I miss it all. The obnoxious quirks, the way you can't pronounce some things correctly, no matter how often I correct you. I miss hearing you call out goodnight to me in the nighttime, and how you always wish me to have sweet dreams. I don't know when, or why it happened, but yeah. When I'm gone I miss you,” you feel a tear escape your eye at his confession, not sure exactly what to say or think for that matter. His finger caresses your cheek wiping the tear from your face.

“Haz?” You whisper.

“Yes?” He asks, full attention turned to you.

“I miss you when you're gone too,” You finally admit, a weight lifting from your chest. He's thankful to know his feelings aren't completely one sided. Your admission of missing him is at least enough to confirm that you don't actually hate him. “Can I be honest?” You ask, catching even yourself off guard.

“Please,” He says, waiting for you to say whatever you had to say.

“I- '' You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for rejection and embarrassment, but if you wait much longer, you'll never say what you have to. “I get so irritated with you, because everything you do just draws me in. I can't not stare, or listen. It drives me nuts, to be so flustered by everything that you do, and it's the simple things Haz, the way you insist on sitting on the left side of the couch, or how you always make sure I've eaten after a long day. The way you constantly clean up my mugs that I leave everywhere, and you have never once said a thing about them, even if you have had every right to,” you don't even want to look at him, afraid he will be appalled, but you have to say it. “I’m pretty sure I've managed to fall in love with you, while trying desperately to hate you,” you whisper.

That's enough of a confirmation for Harrison, that you're on the same page. With his hand gently on your face, pulling your chin up towards him, he leans in, pressing his lips ever so gently against yours. And the electricity that you both feel from the slightest touch? Fucking magic.

“I tried so hard not to love you,” He whispers. You look up at him through your lashes, his eyes gazing directly into yours, and it's like you're looking at the sky on a clear summer day. “And dear God did I fail,” he whispers, making you melt. He leans back down, this time kissing you with something so much more. It's meaningful, it's beautiful, it's everything you have wanted without realizing it. Your hands are against his chest, feeling each thud of his heart, while his are cupping your face. He kisses you like his life depends on it, and in that moment it surely feels like it does. He deepens the kiss, his tongue making its appearance in your mouth. It's everything and more. You wrap your arms around his neck, wanting to extend this moment forever, and his slip down to your waist, pulling you closer. He pulls away, and a soft whine escapes your lips.

“Tell me to stop,” He whispers, as he caresses your cheek. Eyes searching your face, making sure he's not crossing a line. You lean into his hand, closing your eyes and letting a soft humm leave your lips. With no objection from you, he reconnects your lips for a third time tonight. This time it's hot, so so hot. You can feel the ache forming in your stomach as his lips move from yours to your neck. You need him, you have to have him, just a little taste and you realize you have been starving. With a swift motion you're straddling him now, leaning down into him instead of leaning up, giving him so much more access to your neck and jaw, and then he remembers an unanswered question from before.

“This is my shirt,” He says, this time it's not a question, just a statement.

“Yeah,” You giggle. His eyebrows raise a bit as he remembers all the shirts that have seemingly disappeared over the last few months.

“Do you have others?” He asks. You feel like you have been caught red handed, nowhere to go or hide.

“I- Yes,” You admit. “I like to sleep in them,”

“In just your underwear?” He asks, to which you shyly nod. He throws his head back and lets out a dramatic sigh. He's done for, “That is so fucking hot,” he mutters before leaning back in taking your bottom lip between his and sucking it slightly. He feels his pants tighten as your hips grind into him instinctively, and you're so wet and warm he can practically feel it through his jeans.

“Hazzy,” you moan as he pushes you down onto him, providing a friction you desperately need, even though it's not what you want.

“What is it?” He asks you, as he does it a second time. Your head falls down onto his shoulder, and you don't know if you can even express what it is you want.

“Can you..” You trail off.

“Can i?” he asks, needing to hear you say it out loud.

“Touch me?” The words are like music to his ears, flipping you onto your back as he slips his hand between your bodies, running his fingers along the damp fabric of your ruined panties. The fact that you're this wet from just kissing is driving him crazy. He slips his hand into your panties, finally sliding his long digits along your slit. One thing about Harrison that drove you absolutely crazy was his hands, because dear god were they perfect, his long fingers and veiny tops, you'd be lying if you said you had never gotten off imagining his fingers in the place of yours, and now, actually having the real thing, you felt like you were flying.

As he slid his finger inside you, you let out a gasp, his being so much bigger than your own, and it being way too long since you had been with anyone.

“Say the word and I'll stop,” He says, as he looks at your face twisted in pleasure, but he can't tell that it's not pain, he's never seen you like this before. This is a whole new territory.

“Please.. Please don't,” You nearly beg as your hips buck against his hand. The smirk that replaces the concern on his face is unbelievably hot, his pupils are blown with lust and you're sure yours are as well. He thrusts his one finger in and out grazing against your spot each and every time, his palm rubbing your clit as he does so. You're going to lose it, this is so much better than you could have ever imagined. He pulls his finger out, causing a whine from you, which quickly turns to a gasp as he replaces it with two. If you're falling apart to his fingers you're not sure how you'll be able to handle his cock.

“Hazzy,” You moan out, right on the brink of losing it.

“Come on my fingers princess,” He coos, and that is precisely what you do, your whole body shakes in pleasure, and your toes curl, and he keeps going, as your walls squeeze tightly around his fingers.

Once your legs finally stop shaking he pulls his hand away, and although that was probably the most powerful orgasm you had ever had, it is not nearly enough. “Haz.” You say quietly as he peppers kisses on your neck.

“Hmm?” He hums.

“Need more, need you,” you say, and his head peaks up, a smile on his face, a bit in excitement, a bit in surprise.

“You sure?” he asks, to which you respond by kissing him, you nibble at his bottom lip, and he lets out a moan. You reach down unbuttoning his jeans and sliding his zipper down, and he assists you in pulling them down. You can clearly see his length through his boxers, his cock, rock hard and leaking on to his boxers, it's flattering. You let your fingers trail his length and you can feel his eyes on your hand, and you're not sure if he's worried, nervous, or excited. You slide his boxers down and his cock springs free, and you can see the violent red hue of the tip, he's begging to be touched and he hasn't even said a thing. You wrap your hand around him and he lets out a gasp at the sudden contact, you stroke your hand up and down a few times before, he pushes you back onto the bed and climbs over you. He slides his fingers in the hem of your panties and slowly drags them down your legs, before dropping them to the floor, and then takes his time lifting his shirt over his head, exposing his chest, you follow suit, and throw the shirt you had on to the ground. You're both completely naked now, no turning back, you've made it this far already.

"Y/n, baby we don't have to," he whispers against your ear.

"Hazzy, stop worrying and fuck me please," you nearly beg as you pull his lips to yours in a desperately hungry kiss.

"Christ," he mutters as he lines himself at your entrance, pushing into you at a slow, agonizing speed. Of course he's only doing this to make sure you're ok, his fingers seemed like so much to your tight pussy he's worried he's going to hurt you. But the way you moan out his name gives him full confidence that you in fact are fine. Once he's fully sure you're fine to take him, he speeds up his thrusts, finding a place that is perfect for the both of you. Your legs wrap around his waist as he pounds into you. You're not sure you're going to last long.

"Not gonna last," you moan into his lips.

"S'okay, me either," he says back. He slips his hand down, rubbing your clit strategically. You let out another loud moan before his name leaves your lips, repeatedly as you convulse around his cock, and it's only one more thrust before he completely empties himself into you.

It's a few quiet moments of your bodies laying flush against each other, enjoying the afterglow of sex. "I'm gonna clean you up," he whispers in your ear before pushing himself up and off of you. He disappears from the room for what feels like an eternity, but is back within a minute with a warm rag and a glass of water, and he then cleans you up, being gentle with how sensitive you now are.

Your eyes get heavy after everything is said and done, and you're worried he's going to disappear from your room, but he lays next to you instead. Pulling you into his arms.

"Hazzy?" You whisper after a few minutes.

"Hmm?"

"Is everything ok with your family?" You ask, getting worried this may have been a lapse in judgement on his part because of heightened emotions.

"Yes. Char decided to give us a scare and disappear for a weekend, so I came back to try and keep my mom from murdering her," he admitted with a chuckle.

"Oh," you giggled.

"Y/n?" He whispers.

"Yeah?"

"I meant it. I missed you," he says, pressing a kiss atop of your head. You smile before falling asleep in his arms. Maybe this was a mistake, maybe it would be forever. All you knew was it felt right.

#Harrison Osterfield #harrison osterfield smut #harrison osterfield imagine #hazzy #haz #haz osterfield #harrison osterfeild x reader #harrison osterfeild x reader smut #harrison osterfeild fluff

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keilemlucent · 4 years

Text

long days for bad people

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~6k

Being a prized, adored possession was far better than you thought it would be.

warnings: light daddy kink (no age play, just the name in mostly jest), spit kink, crying kink, degradation, brief descriptions of blood + violence, kidnapping (consensual?? read a/n), brat taming, light sadomasochism, mind break, praise kink

------

here it is, mafia au, villain hawks, dom, brat tamer, soft(?!) hawks. what more could you want?

there’s briefly described kidnapping at the beginning of the fic but it is reiterated throughout that this is consensual! no yandere/stockholm stuff in this fic.

i’ve been working on this one for a while and i’m happy to finally share it. hope y’all enjoy!!

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You shouldn’t have fucked around with the League.

God, it was common knowledge in the parts of town and circles you inhabited. Of all criminal syndicates, mobs, to fuck with, the League wasn’t one of them. They were known for their complete cruelty and violent delights. The League had such a reputation due to the fact that they openly left bodies carved up and burnt as they pleased.

But, you were a fucking idiot and got involved anyways.

It was a small loan, Giran almost seemed to scoff when he gave you the cash. You and your almost-stranger of a roommate were just very late on some bills and were going to lose a lot of material items if you didn’t scrounge up at least two paychecks in about three days.

You swallowed your pride and took the first and easiest loan you could get. That just happened to be with gap-toothed, wide-grinning Giran of the League. He, you knew from what you’d heard, was somewhat fair in matters like yours.

You had two weeks to pay him back.

...

You didn’t make it in time.

You were close to the amount, notably. You scrounged and clawed your way into getting the cash back. You weren’t much of a pickpocket, but you snagged some odd jobs around the apartment building that you and your roommate were still fortunate enough to keep a room in.

After one particular job, a nasty carpentry gig that you weren’t qualified for, you returned home tired and worn.

Sure, you were a day late on payment. But with this last gig, you were so close. The League would have to pity two, stupid, stupid young girls?

They didn’t, you realized, as you stepped into your apartment.

Your roommate's slain corpse was laying over the arm of your cheap couch, eyes vacant and mouth dripping blood onto the old beige carpet.

You dropped to your knees, horrified and completely stunned.

“You should’ve known better,” it was a hum from across the room, from a figure you didn’t even know was in the room until then. “Really, you’d expect folks to be smarter.”

Your mouth dried as the figure moved from the nighttime shadows, flashing a dazzling smile and ruffling crimson wings.

Hawks.

You’d heard of him, everyone had. Terrifying, fast, precise, and cutthroat. He took orders and didn’t ask questions other than snark. He talked too much, fucked too much.

“W-wait,” You didn't know why you were pleading, but you had to try, right? “I’m so close, wait—”

Hawks sauntered up to you wielding one of his feather blades, the red of blood mixing with the filaments of his feathers.

He crouched down in front of you, tsking, “I don’t like begging, angel. I’ll make this quick for you. Your friend there?”

Hawks jerked his finger behind to your dead roommate.

“She fought, pleaded, begged, all that normal shit I don’t like hearing when shitheads like you two don’t make payday,” his voice was slow, talking about death like some casual thing. “I’ll make this nice and fast if you don’t run your mouth anymore, how about that?”

You swallowed, nodding.

The small percentage of your brain that was fully functioning figured dying quickly was a much better way to go than whatever the hell had happened to your roommate. There was far too much blood for that to be quick.

Hawks hummed, the tip of his feather blade tipping up your chin so you were forced to meet his gaze. You vaguely heard the pitter-patter of your tears hitting the carpet below. Blood rushed in your ears as you stared death in the face.

Hawks appraised you.

You watched the metaphorical cogs and wheels turning in Hawks’ skull as he looked you up and down before flashing forward, gathering you in his arms and flying from the apartment.

Your first thought was obvious as you clung to him in the open air:

He’s going to drop you and kill you.

When you screamed, tears growing thicker, he slapped a gloved hand over your mouth, “I’m giving you an out, kid. Trust me. You’ll prefer this over death.”

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Your new existence was certainly better than death.

If you were ever caught and convicted of any of the illegal things you participated in, you’d be fucked, thrown into prison until you rotted, until you were just dust and bone.

But, until then, you worked for the League.

You had groveled at the feet of their leader, Shigaraki, hands clasped on your lap, claiming your worth, or maybe lack thereof. Not many attachments, not many people who’d miss you, a semi-useful quirk.

With a boot shoved into your skull, he sneered that you’d be the League’s new errand dog.

The real reason they accepted you was due to the threatening air Hawks was exuding and the fact that their old ‘errand bitch’ had died the week prior. They needed a new body to act as a civilian and do things that only an unsuspecting-looking ‘civilian’ could. You fit the bill, and Hawks had taken a liking to you.

Oddly, working for the League was actually pretty okay.

You got your own room. It was small, but you only had to share a bathroom with the somewhat unhinged Himiko, but she was fairly nice once she warmed up to you. Everyone lived in the League’s HQ and went about their business, getting drunk at their bar front each night.

Most of the mess happened at night, but it was important to put on a nice veneer and keep spirits high. Not to mention that no one would dared to fuck with the League, anyways. The cops and federal government had long been paid off due to the resources that the League had acquired for them.

You felt somewhat untouchable.

A lot of this confidence was due to the fact that you had become Hawks’s... Keigo’s...

‘Songbird’

As he liked to call you, anyway.

Keigo was the general, loveable annoyance of the League, but his connections were invaluable and his skills were unmatched. Despite how he could grate on people (read: Dabi and Shigaraki), he was respected and feared just as much as everyone else was, if not more so. And being his metaphorical and literal pet had its perks.

Sure, the first time he had you come to his ‘office’ and he fucked you against the window until it was smeared with cum and blood was a bit surprising, but god, if you didn’t fucking love it. Being Keigo’s personal fucktoy came with protection, pleasure, and a surprising amount of genuine attention. The dude was lonely, and so were you. The two of you made a good ‘couple’, if you could even call yourselves that. The sadism he doled out was always counterpointed by affections that did seem genuine.

Keigo was fond of you, and you of him. Maybe your brush with death had twisted something in your head, to even allow yourself to get close to a man like Keigo, but you couldn’t make yourself care.

You were comfortable and content.

...

[bird boss]: hey babe ;^) get to my office in the next thirty minutes

[you]: what if i don’t

[bird boss]: do u really want to find out

[you]: ...

[you]: im just curious

[bird boss]: don’t get cheeky songbird

[you]: u make me wanna u know

[you]: i know it gets you riled up

[bird boss]: tread lightly kid

[you]: oooo i gave you some guff over text

[you]: what’re you gonna do about it?

[bird boss]: use your imagination

[bird boss]: 25 minutes now, songbird

[bird boss]: don’t make this worse for yourself <3

You set your phone on your cheap duvet, quickly primped yourself to see Keigo. He wasn’t too strict about your appearance but wearing dark clothes and some of the more expensive gifts he’d gotten you over the months he’d been screwing you never hurt. Something about ownership with him always got him hot and bothered.

You tried to remind yourself frequently that Keigo saw you as some sort of possession, but a possession with feelings.

Meandering through HQ was always a bit daunting, despite your protections. Your skimpy outfit choice and hardly-hidden lingerie made you feel a bit more like an object than you liked too.

There were hardly hungry mouths around the League, they kept you all fed, but god, were there starving eyes.

Dabi wolf-whistled as you walked past him through a common room, shouting something about how Keigo was collecting his pound of flesh for the day. Maybe a line or two about being a whore, but that was all flavor at that point. Keigo called you far meaner, more sinful things. And hell, it wasn’t like Keigo hadn’t... shared you on more than one occasion.

Maybe you were a little fucked up for enjoying your lifestyle to the degree you did, but why not indulge where you could? Life was far shittier scraping paint off old fences and picking up cans to just scrape by.

Opulence was a breath of fresh air. And if you were Keigo’s fuck toy? Then, god, you were Keigo’s fuck toy.

When you arrived at Keigo’s office, you knocked gently on the door, quickly adjusting your skirt and blouse.

The door opened, though no one was behind it. Only a single one of Keigo’s feathers allowed you entrance.

His office seemed daunting and extravagant for a man who did most of his ‘work’ in far-shadier, far-bloodier places. The walls were covered in mirrors and old paintings, something out of vanity and pride, knowing how Keigo saw himself. There were several black leather couches scattered around against walls, some stained by your various... activities. There was a broad desk parallel to a back wall made entirely of windows.

Night had fallen, leaving the room lit by a few lamps and warm fixtures.

“Hey, boss,” You hummed as you stepped in, shutting the door behind you just before the lingering scarlet feather flicked the lock on the door.

And the other one.

And the deadbolt.

You swallowed thickly.

As much as you enjoyed a lot of the perks of your... position, it was also daunting.

Keigo was daunting, all bloody colors, vanity, and hunger.

He sat behind his desk, wings puffed up, and partially extended over the back of his chair. The desk chair was massive, specifically acquired so that you would have enough room to properly straddle his lap for hours on end if he so wished.

Keigo idly clicked around on his desktop computer. He leaned slack and back into the chair, legs spread wide and exuding casual confidence that reeked of his own ego.

Keigo normally wore a mix of black and red, as edgy as it was. He liked to seem clean, hide the stains of sanguine that undoubtedly lingered on him no matter how he tried to cleanse himself. His black slacks were pressed, the seams pristine. The black shirt he wore was rolled up to his elbows, the buttons of his red vest undone as well. His black tie hung half-undone and limp around his neck. His tousled gold hair was mussed as normal, ruffled by his flights. His feathers might’ve needed preening, but you doubted that that was the reason he called you to his office.

And based on the deep set of his brow and the sickly smile on his lips, he was already on edge and in a mood.

“Songbird, come over here, will you?” Keigo sat back from his typing, watching you from across the room. He took you in the same way a parched man sucks down red wine, greedily and soon to be fucked. “On my lap.”

You complied, despite your earlier attitude. You padded across the room, going around his desk.

As you moved to straddle his lap, worn hands gripped your waist. His amber eyes gave you a warning, crinkling at the edges, “Not like that, sweetheart. Do daddy right.”

Oh, so it was one of those moods.

Maybe you were Keigo’s sexual punching bag so he could exert control on something he could later kiss better and patch up.

Sure, he was going to fucking ruin you, but part of the fun with him was that the more it hurt, the nicer he was after. And, all things considered, with some of the... other folks the League brought in to satiate its member’s desires, you fared far better. Keigo cared about you, in his own particular way.

You tried to lean over his lap yourself, but his hands and feathers positioned you perfectly as he wanted. With the tight grip he had on your waist and shoulders, dragging you just as he liked, it was easy to see his need for control.

Your head hung off of one of his thighs as you squirmed in his lap. His bulge already pressed into your ribs, a wonderful reminder of the reward you’d reap later on. Keigo’s hands gathered your hand to the small of your back, a feather replacing their grip a moment later.

“Sit with me while I finish this shit,” Keigo grumbled, going back to clicking the desktop. His leg bobbed absentmindedly, his free hand rubbing over the curve of your barely-covered ass. “Be a good girl, (Y/N). If you can stand that.”

He laughed under his breath.

You let your head dangle limply downwards, blood rushing to your cheeks.

You’d thought you’d be in for more of an ass-kicking, but it appeared Keigo was taking things unusually slow. You knew better than to complain, but kicking up a bit of metaphorical sand couldn’t be that bad, right?

“I dunno,” You hummed, kicking your legs lightly. “I don’t think you like it when I’m a ‘good girl’, daddy.”

“Watch it.” A single, sharp smack to your butt was hardly enough to shut you up, but Keigo did so all the same, rubbing over the covered flesh a moment later, “I’m not in the mood.”

“Are you sure about that?” You wriggled, intentionally pushing up against his growing erection.

His breath stuttered, a smirk pulling at the corners of your lips. The hand on your ass didn’t rear again, rather Keigo kept thumbing smooth circles as he continued to click around on the computer. He might have been actually doing work. Or, he was ignoring you, egging your sass on.

“If you didn’t want anything, why’d you call me in here?” You asked, way too cheeky for the way Keigo’s body was practically vibrating underneath you. Pissing him off had consequences, of course, but you weren’t in the mood to play ‘good girl’ that day.

“I told you, I want you to sit with me,” Keigo pinched your ass. “But, you’re too mouthy to do just that one thing. You’re usually better than this.”

“Am I?” You played innocent, craning to give him a wide smile. “Hadn’t noticed. What I am noticing, is your already-hard cock, dear.”

“Oh, ‘dear’?!” Keigo paused on the computer. “Cheeky. Cute.”

Keigo would just dig in more, lean in, before ‘snapping’, if you could call it that.

You gulped as his hand swatted at upper thighs, his nails almost knicking your skin.

“Up and don’t get smart about it.”

Oh, you were going to be remarkably smart about it.

You rose but hardly stayed upright for long. Sliding down to your knees, you pushed at Keigo’s legs, “Wouldn’t you prefer me down here? Just for a treat while you finish your work?”

Keigo clicked his tongue, gaze flickering down to you, “Fine. Behave yourself.”

Yeah, right. You both knew that that wasn’t going to happen.

You were already tucked underneath his desk, undoing the fly of his pants.

You pulled his cock from his trousers, pumping his cock to full hardness. Smearing around preek for a bit of extra flare before inching forward.

Wrapping your mouth around Keigo’s dick was somewhat of a feat— he had a decent girth to him, so you usually took the opportunity to warm him (and yourself) up with a bit of tip-kissing and kitten licks.

But, you were feeling bold.

You spit on his dick, a move that normally would have earned you plenty of verbal snark, but anything Keigo could’ve said to you was swallowed as you took his cock down to the back of your throat.

You sucked around it, massaging the vein on the bottom with the flat of your tongue. Drool began to pool at the side of your lips as you let the head bump your throat, gag reflex be damned.

All the while, Keigo had stopped moving above you. The fabric of his trouser balled up in his ringed-fingers as he gazed half-lidded down at you.

You smiled around his dick, looking up at him innocently as you began to slowly bob your head. His wings fluttered, twitches and air stirring around you.

Keigo stifled a laugh, a hand tangling in your hair, “All that talk earlier and now you’re treating me to a blowjob without even me having to tell you to? Dove, you’re too much.”

You pulled off of him to reply, “I can only try.”

Before he could reply, you spit on his dick again, and went back to slurping around him.

You held the base of his cock in your hands, twisting and spreading spittle. It almost felt like your actions were for show, but Keigo’s eyes were rolling back in his head all the same.

You smirked.

A drool pool from your mouth, puddling in your lap and soaking your skirt. Not like you weren’t already dripping from the sinful sounds Keigo stopped trying to hold.

“A-ah, that’s it, angel,” Keigo fucked into your mouth with his hold on your hair. “Just like that.”

Your hand rose to play with Keigo’s balls, teasing at the sack as he cried out a high moan above you.

Considering the performance you were giving, it was unsurprising to feel him tensing above you. You’d been on your knees for him hundreds of times; you’d learned to see the little twitches and puffs of breath he’d give when he’d get close to coming.

You pulled off his cock with a pop, detangling the hand from your hair in the motion. It was all fast enough that Keigo couldn’t have stopped you in his hazy, pleasure-filled state.

Based on the look of rapid disbelief he was giving you, your trick had worked well. Knowing Keigo’s... tendencies made you hesitant to push him too much in the past, but for whatever reason, you were feeling stupidly bold.

Consequences.

“Sorry, daddy,” You wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand. “Didn’t feel like swallowing today.”

Keigo’s disheveled appearance was more than gratifying. Knowing how easily you made him come undone by that point was one of the perks of your position.

His hair was more than ruffled, strands and tufts chaotically curled around his cheeks and ears. There was a bright blush on his face, spreading from his nose to the apples of his cheeks, down his deck. At some point, he’d popped the buttons at the top of his shirt. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, half-panting and based on the darkness in his brow and the far-too peachy smile on his face, Keigo was fucking pissed.

His wings stood on end.

You gulped from below him.

Maybe you pushed your luck too far.

Maybe.

“You’re playing real cute today, aren’t you songbird?” Keigo didn’t move, but his feathers twitched above him, wings flaring out even farther. “Real fucking cute.”

You were fucked.

Good.

A few feathers flew from Keigo, one snagging at your wrist, wrapping around it, and pulling you up from the desk.

You wobbled as you stood, dragged across the room as Keigo leisurely followed behind you. When you tried to set your own pace, Keigo swatted your ass with a huff, “You never learn, huh? I thought I’d trained you better than this.”

You opened your mouth to spit some dickish retort, but you were cut off as Keigo’s shoved you onto one of the leather couches.

“Don’t.” Keigo’s tone was acidic as he stood over your, wings still flared out. “I told you I wasn’t in the mood for your cute bullshit, dove, and you still decided to test your luck, huh?”

You kneeled on the cushions, sucking down air, shaking with anticipation.

“You don’t feel like swallowing today? That’s fine, I can work with that,” Keigo shrugged easily from above you.

Keigo had an... active sexual imagination, and you could tell by the crook in his lips that he had something devilish planned as retribution.

A sharp slap came down on your cheek, Keigo catching the opposite jaw and keeping you from recoiling too far. You blinked as the pain spread around your skull like licking flames against a frostbitten body.

You wanted more.

A little grin stretched against your mouth as Keigo rubbed at your cheeks with his thumbs, “Aw, you always get so sweet like this, dove. You can be a good girl if you try, can’t you?”

His actions carried candor and his words absolute torment.

Despite how Keigo was trying to goad you into submission, you had a bit of spark left in you.

Plainly, you spit on him.

The glob of saliva landed on Keigo’s cheek, under his eye.

He blinked at you.

You continued to smile.

His own expression grew strained.

“Oh, songbird,” Keigo damn near lamented, wiping away the kind gift you’d given him. His voice was smooth without any bit of waver, all of the sexually-charged anger rolling just beneath the veneer. “You’re just being pain slut today, aren’t you?”

You were, absolutely. You could feel your arousal wetting your panties, the heat of the strike from your cheek beginning to boil something in your gut.

“You just need a bit of special attention today, right? That’s all.” Keigo tsked, fully removing the tie from around his neck. “You just need a little reminder.”

“Reminder of what?” You asked, tilting your head quizzically.

Keigo flipped you, feathers pushing and bracing you as needed while nimble hands tore off your clothes without reverie.

“Plenty of things, especially with this attitude you’ve got today,” Keigo’s tie looped around your wrists, binding them together at the center of your back.

“You definitely need a reminder of who’s the boss around here,” Keigo shoved you forward, stomach flush with the back of the couch.

You reeled from the pace of it all, shifting your knees for any bit of stimulation you could get. Keigo’s feathers were slicing and pulling your clothes from your body faster than you could keep track of. It was overwhelming, making your mind swim in the best possible way. You throbbed.

“Maybe a reminder about who fucking provides for you,” Keigo’s own clothes were shaken off, dropped to the floor and forgotten.

It was true. Keigo always made sure than you were taken care of, in more ways than one. Despite how fast-paced and laid back he could seem, he was always on top of making sure you had more than enough material and immaterial pleasure whether than be in the form of food, fucking, or otherwise.

You yelped as a smack fell across your ass. A feather caught the elastic of your panties, snapping a moment later, leaving you fully bare before him.

Keigo’s worn hand came to press at your throat and jaw, tilting your head back as he climbed behind you, “Maybe, you need a reminder about who keeps you safe.”

This phrase was softer than the others, a sweet kiss pressing to your cheek and his voice a bit more gentle. It was jarring at the skin still stung from his earlier strike, but you cherished the heat besides.

Once again, true. The folks in and outside of the League were greedy. There were plenty of unwanted souls that stole glances at Hawks’s prized songbird. There were starved eyes that tore into you whether you were dolled up for Keigo or not. There had been some... close calls, one could say, but Keigo always was there, in the end, unafraid to get his hands dirty.

“You know what the most important reminder is, dove?” Keigo rolled his hips against you, cock wedging between your thighs.

“N-no,” You stuttered, brain turning gooey as Keigo’s arms snaked around your waist, sharpened nails leaving indents in your hips.

He nosed at your neck, leaving a few love bites in his wake.“‘N-no’, what?”

“I don’t know,” You leaned back into Keigo’s chest, rubbing your thighs around his cock.

“Oh, songbird, you sweet thing,” He chuckled, all teasing and self-indulgent. “I’m the one who makes you feel good.”

He was so right, wasn’t he?

With the way he’d learned your body over the last few months, he’d had some undeniable pursuit to make you feel the best.

Keigo was inquisitive by nature. He had kept you on your back for hours while he finger-fucked you, watching every twitch and roll of your hips to figure out just the right ways to break you. He’d kissed and sucked and slapped every inch of you, sussing out the perfect ways to make you writhe and cry for him.

Sure, you were an absolute terror to him sometimes. Not to mention that Keigo jumping you covered in the blood of that day's targets was as macabre and horrifying as it sounded.

But, fuck, if he didn’t know how to bring you to ecstasy that fucking ruined you in the best way.

Keigo got off on watching you shatter for him. It was the reason he’d torn you from that cheap, bloodied apartment in the first place. A kind, naive little morsel that he could play with as he wanted. You didn’t complain. Fuck, you reveled in his attention. You gave it back to him, like the fucked up, semi-divine being could be any more debauched than he already was.

Corruption spreads, but you’d never complain. If being plucked from struggling for pennies to being fucked stupid by a man who could kill you at a moments notice, a man who would kill for you, somehow poisoned you?

You’d die with a bitter taste on your tongue and a smile on your face.

Keigo rubbed at your clit, nipping at your neck, and rolled his hips greedily. His cock was covered in a mix of your slick and his own preek, easily sliding between plushness of your thighs.

“You love pushing me, acting all tough,” Keigo chastised, clicking his tongue. “I mean it when I say it's cute.”

You don’t have any more quick retorts in you, not when his fingers are down your throat, gagging you as spittle dribbles down your chin onto the leather below. It was sure to leave a mark.

“Behind all that bark and snark, you’re just a good girl, aren’t you?” Keigo punctuated his words with a bite and nip to your neck. “Just needed a reminder, right, dove?”

You whimpered against his fingers at the praise, grinding against Keigo’s touch needily.

His fingers pushed pinched your tongue, breath curling over the shell of your ear, “What are you?”

You mumbled against his fingers, “A g-good g-girl.”

It was humiliating in the best way. Keigo’s light laugh at your attempt. The way he nuzzled his nose into the sweat at the crook of your shoulder was just aloe on the burn.

“I misspoke, if you can believe that,” Keigo’s cock pulled out from your thighs. “Songbird, you know what I meant to call you?”

You squirmed at the loss, but he was quick to hush you. His fingers left your mouth with a thick trail of spit.

“You’re my good girl.”

You melted in his arms.

Falling back against Keigo’s chest, you craned your neck to lock your lips to his.

Maybe that was it, why all the filth didn’t bother you. Because you had worth. Maybe it was insecurity, or maybe it was self-aware in the face of your lived experience. Before being taken, the life you’d lived made you just a rusty cog in a dying machine. You wouldn’t have amounted to anything, probably.

But with the League?

You were the prized, beloved consort of an angry god.

Keigo owned you, body, mind and soul, and you let him. That’s not even to mention how you had him wrapped around your finger. He adored you, under all of it.

Fighting with him was for sport, not blood.

Keigo licked past your lips, pressing his cock to your cunt teasingly. You whined against him, wriggling in his arms.

“What does my good girl want?” Keigo loved making you beg for him, claw for any bit of stimulation. He liked it even better when you were already soft for him.

Stray tears pricked at your eyes, “Y-your cock.”

He pinched the meat of your thigh, shaking his head, “Not good enough. Speak properly, dove. Clear and correctly.”

You swallowed, searching for the words in your own haze.

Your words were willed to be solid.

“I want your cock, daddy.”

It was just enough.

Keigo pushed forward, the head of his cock already stretching your cunt. Consider the girth of it, the lack of preparation stung and burned more than you would’ve liked, as good as it felt to finally be filled.

Keigo cooed at your soft tears, keeping your face to his with a firm hand on your jaw. He shushed you, far too sweetly while licking the salt from your cheeks, “Relax, angel. Big breaths.”

You nodded, sputtering as he speared into you. Keigo’s free hand went back to toying with your clit, encouraging the tension to drain from your body.

As he bottomed out, you shuddered, falling back into his chest. Keigo’s wings fluttered, twitching in wait. Hot breath fanned over your face, Keigo groaning and locking his jaw.

The stimulation was overwhelming. You had expected Keigo to be meaner, considering how mouthy you’d been.

Yet, it made sense. Keigo had figured out one of the better ways to make you break was softness.

(Truthfully, it made him crack in the same way, but he’d never tell.)

“Feel that?” He asked, just barely rolling his hips.

Keigo released your jaw in favor of wrapping a hand around the front of your throat, tugging you as close he could manage.

“Uh-huh,” You panted.

You could, the kiss of his cock head against your cervix was almost uncomfortable. The delicious pressure and sensitivity already had you reeling in his arms, unsteady and wanting.

“I fill you up so good, don’t I?” Keigo praised his own ego, his cock, but he wasn’t wrong. The curve of his cock rubbed against all the right spots. He stretched you just right, the burn ebbing away into a need for more, more—

“Please, Keigo—” You gasped. Your legs shook as Keigo slammed into you, shoving you forward and into the wall.

His pace was brutal. Hands and feathers kept your back in a harsh arch as he rearranged your insides to his liking. He was kind enough to keep stroking at your clit, bruising your hips and babbling filthy nothings.

“I’m the one who makes you feel this good, only me, right, dove?” Keigo growled into your ear with a particularly hard thrust.

You nodded against the wall, aware of the drool slipping down your chin as your mouth lolled open. Your insides were hot like white flames, searing any ability to use coherent speech.

Keigo snickered at your state. Slowing, he gripped your ass cheeks. You yelped, inside jumping as he pried them apart. You flinched, hole twitching as he spat down, the liquid cool against the flushed skin.

It was little moves like that, Keigo just subtly making your shudder and feel dirty that got you the most fucked up and fucked out.

You pressed back on his cock, panting against the wall and keening. You would’ve spoke, if you could, but anything that you had the ability to say would’ve been torn apart by Keigo’s sharpened, silver tongue.

“My filthy little dove, huh?” Keigo sneered, watching you try to bounce on his cock the best you could. “Such a glutton when you get broken down like this, needy whore.”

The pleasure of Keigo’s cock tearing up your insides was all you could focus on through the fog of your mind, desperate and wanting and greedy.

“Y-your,” You corrected, the words bubbling from your lips, disjointed and messy. “Yours.”

Keigo may have been avian, but he purred like a damn cat at your admission. He held you like a possession, cock throbbing as he fucked you just right.

“God, you’re sweet, angel,” He nipped at your jaw before wrapping his hand around your throat. “Even all fucked up, you know who you belong to so well, don’t you?”

You nodded, rolling your hips back.

Keigo must’ve taken pity on you, squeezing at the sides of your neck. Cruel as he could be, he must’ve noticed the way your thighs and knees trembled against the leather. Keigo knew the cloud in your eyes well— how to get you hazy and how to fuck you perfectly through the fog.

He fucked back into your dripping cunt, pace harder and faster than before. You were helpless to do anything other than fall forward into the wall, cheek squished against the scarlet.

“Who’s brat are you?” Keigo squeezed a bit harder at your neck as you swallowed against his palm.

“Y-yours—!” You squeaked out, mind going numb from the stimulation and pressure.

A wicked sneer curled against your ear as Keigo’s movements grew sloppier. His tongue lolled over your shoulder, messy kisses and slobbery bites and marks left in his wake. He was close, but you weren’t far off easier.

“Little bird,” It was sweeter, closer and hotter. “Can you come for me? Come all over my cock?”

You nodded.

“Not good enough.” Keigo bit down, nearly breaking the fragile skin of your neck. “You know I like words, angel.”

You gave him words, plenty of them.

Nearly incoherent pleads and cries poured from your bruised lips as Keigo pounded into you. Each blabbering wail was met with Keigo groans and grunts, condescending little phrases spitting over you without release.

Your lack of leverage and use of your arms made you thumping against the couch and wall, vision darkening on the edges as the pressure in your gut and the hold on your throat remained.

You were breaking in his arms, tears rolling down your cheeks as you held yourself from cresting. The exertion of it all was taking its toll, legs jellied and chest beading with sweat.

Keigo sensed it, shifting his hips to hit the spongy spot in your cunt, “Come, dove.”

You let go.

A sob shattered in your throat as your climax crashed through you. Keigo released your throat, holding you by your bound arms as he bottomed out. His own harsh cry panged against yours as he stuffed you full.

Surprisingly gently, he rocked his hips against your own, letting the ambient throb of your cunt milk him dry.

You came down, rolling and spinning as you sucked down air a bit too fast. Keigo panted behind you, though the sound seemed dull.

The pressure from your wrists released, soft thumbs rubbing at where the fabric had bitten into your forearms, “Hey, angel, you with me?”

You could only nod weakly, exhaustion and aches creeping in.

Keigo repositioned the two of you, setting himself against the arm of the couch, wings up free to drape and splay over the floor. He dragged you with him, pulling you to lay on his chest. The stickiness of his spunk, your slick, and general sweatiness might’ve been uncomfortable, but you weren’t quite lucid enough to care.

“How are you feeling? Still feeling a little mouthy?” Keigo teased, already knowing your answer.

You muffled a groan against his chest, shaking your head against the sweat of his chest.

“Awww,” Keigo chuckled, fingers brushing over your cheeks, “Is my dove a little fucked out?”

“Keeeigo, b-be nice.”

Your voice broke, parched.

Keigo snorted, pressing a kiss to the side of your forehead, “I guess I can manage that. Just for you, though. Can’t let the others see me get all soft.”

You wouldn’t; seeing Keigo warm and gooey, both of you mutually fucked-out, was a pleasure only you got to indulge in. And you loved every moment of it.

++++++++++++

taglist: @sinclairsamess (msg me if you’d like to be on it!)

ko-fi

#salem writes #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #hawks x y/n #hawks x you #takami keigo x y/n #takami keigo x you #mha smut #mha x reader #bnha x reader #hawks #hawks smut #hawks fanfiction #takami keigo smut

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chosonore · 3 years

Text

part one | calmness

calmness [noun. the state or quality of being free from agitation or strong emotion]

pairing: kamo choso/f!reader

summary: falling in love with choso was a gradual and slow process, creeping up on you so inconspicuously that you don’t realize until the feelings hit full force. he’s become a constant in your life, your sun, your home. but does he return the feelings?

wordcount: 8k

content/warnings: roommates au, friends to lovers, fluff, slice of life, mentions of alcohol, language, some pining but not really, the amount of oblivious reader and choso will kill you, slow burn, characters are aged up if not already obvious, lowercase intended, [UNEDITED]

a/n: [hello this is a re-post because my blog was banned for a few days! so if you’ve seen it before, i’ve had to delete it i am so sorry if you’ve saved it. but it’s here to stay now!] here it is, the long awaited roommate!choso series wehfuhuehw if you’ve lurked around on my blog before, you would’ve seen the little drabbles i’ve sent suki a while back. this idea has been floating around in my head for so long and there isn’t really a lot of plot to it, it’s really just a really long slice of life thing. wanted to explore falling in love with choso, i just... love him a lot ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ i’ve spent a lot of time thinking about how he would be in situations like this and i hope you enjoy!

masterlist - next

you were pretty sure that you’d scared all the costumers away with your constant sighing – even yuuji was looking at you concerned now although you’d told him that you were fine hours prior. the entire apartment hunting issue was now getting to you; a few months prior, your landlord had announced that he would be selling the apartment, leaving you with no other option than to find a new apartment. but rent was astronomically high and you were already struggling as is. even finding roommates was proven to be a difficult feat, you weren’t sure why but you kept attracting weird people and now two weeks before the moving out date, you still didn’t have a place to stay. worst case scenario, you’d have to rent a storage space and crash at your friend’s place.

“y/n, are you okay? you look… very stressed,” yuuji asked gingerly, after he’d closed the store and helped you clean up the cash register area. “uh if it helps, you can vent to me! we’re friends right? so what’s bothering you?”

you were hesitant. sure, despite not knowing him so well since he’s only been working at the store for a month or two now, you would consider the two of you friends. but you felt bad just dumping the entirety of your worries onto him. so you opted to tell him the… short truth.

“ah it’s just- i’ve been looking for a place to stay because, essentially, i’m getting kicked out of my place but it’s been pretty unsuccessful,” you sighed, scrubbing at the counter more vigorously now. “i need to move out in two weeks but i haven’t found a place yet and the people looking for roommates just seem to be people who would drive me insane.”

“oh really?” yuuji sounded hopeful- wait, why did he sound hopeful? “my older brother is looking for a new roommate! his former roommate recently moved in with his boyfriend so the room is vacant right now. if you want, i could arrange a date for you to look at the apartment and meet him? i promise my brother isn’t weird or anything, he’s pretty diligent with chores and is always up to hang out.”

your jaw dropped; yuuji was your lifesaver. he was incredibly friendly and polite, always helping others and looking out for everyone. you were overwhelmed with joy and relief, maybe you were naïve and too hast in trusting his words but his brother had to be similar to him, you couldn’t imagine them being polar opposites. it couldn’t be that bad and at this point, you were desperate. “i would love that! when are you guys free?”

“ah we could actually head over to his place after clocking out,” yuuji put the boxes and pens back into place before ushering you to the staff room and turning the lights off. “he’s been home quite early lately, so i can just let him now right now if you’re free?”

you nodded in agreement, almost too eagerly, as you threw your jacket on and grabbed your bag, waiting for yuuji outside of the store. it was already dark outside and you almost felt bad for taking up his time like this but he had offered after all. yuuji was furiously texting as he stepped out of the building, screen lighting up his face in a comical way. in the dim light of the street lamps, you clumsily fumbled with the keys before finally being able to lock the door.

“you’re in luck, he’s home right now!” yuuji announced, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his red sweater. “said it’s okay if we drop by real quick.”

you hummed in thought, matching yuuji’s pace as you walked across the street. “does he live far away from here?”

“nope, it’s basically around the corner.”

thankfully, the apartment was within walking distance so you had a slow stroll while talking about work, friends and uni. although you shared the same friend circle, it was almost impossible to have both of you in the same room – yuuji was often busy with club activities while you were constantly studying or working. it wasn’t until he started working at the store that you finally got to know each other, immediately getting along much to your friends’ relief. he had never talked about his older brother before so you were surprised that he had siblings at all. but he sounded genuine when he said that his brother was cool so you didn’t think much of it.

“okay so this is the place,” yuuji stopped in front of a building, pressing the doorbell. “please don’t be too intimidated when you meet choso, he looks unfriendly and unamused sometimes but that’s just his face.”

turning around, you took a closer look at your surroundings. it was an apartment building that looked rather cozy, surrounded by tall, expanding trees. to your relief, it wasn’t a sketchy neighbourhood - you’d always felt wary about walking home by yourself after a late shift. in the distance, you could see a playground and screaming, laughing children. it was harmonious and peaceful, easing your soul and initial doubts.

“oh okay,” you bit your lip in nervousness as the buzzer went off, following yuuji into the building. the closer you got to the apartment, the squirmier you got, anxious about meeting his older brother. the door was already left ajar so you could enter, the smell of food wafting out of the apartment to the hallway. you peeked inside before entering, immediately feeling more at ease upon seeing that the apartment was organized and clean. coats and jackets hung up on the coatrack, shoes lined up neatly along the wall. several photos were stuck to the wall - one of a younger chubby-cheeked yuuji, one of what looked like a garden party, another one of a happily smiling group of people. your heart was warming up; yuuji’s brother seemed like a rather attentive person who appreciated his surroundings and close friends and family.

“choso! did you make dinner for me?” yuuji called out as he kicked off his shoes and stormed inside before you could stop him, leaving you to your own devices as you awkwardly stood in the hallway of the apartment after closing the door. you took your shoes off slowly, stalling as much time as possible. should you just wait for yuuji to come back? or should you come in and greet them with the same energy that yuuji just exuded? but then his brother might think that you were weird and reject you straight away. you froze when a deeper voice rang out.

“didn’t you say you’d bring a friend? where are they?”

you hastily took off your shoes and tiptoed deeper into the apartment, hiding behind yuuji as you looked at the taller man in front of him. his brother looked at you curiously, placing the cooking utensils he was holding onto the counter. so yuuji and him did look like polar opposites. yuuji, for the lack of better terms, looked like a soft peach while the man in front of you had tied his dark, long hair in twin tails and was sporting a huge white shirt with sweatpants but perhaps the most striking thing about him was the face tattoo. you hadn’t expected that at all. he spiked your interest, you couldn’t deny that he was attractive. you had to snap out of it, this was your potential future roommate and you did not need to have any further thoughts. not of that kind.

“hi,” you greeted quietly and held your hand out for him to shake. “i’m y/n, nice to meet you.”

“choso.” he shook your hand, giving you an approving nod.

maybe you stared at his hand a little too obviously, admiring his long fingers, his nicely shaped fingernails and the veins on his hand. yuuji cleared his voice, slightly elbowing you in the side. you gasped in embarrassment, jerking your hand from his and hiding it behind your back. choso didn’t seem like he had caught onto your staring. and if he did, he had enough mercy to not bring it up.

“let me show you your room first,” choso explained unfazed, patiently waiting until you followed him. he walked across the living room, pointing to the side. while yes, he was attractive and seemed to be an enjoyable person to be around with, you couldn’t shake the wariness in your bones. choso switched on the lights, letting you step into the room first. it was empty for the most part, aside from a few boxes that were neatly stacked and placed in the corner. the room had a comfortable size, big enough to fit everything that you owned but not too big so that you’d feel uncomfortable with the empty spaces.

“sorry about the boxes,” choso apologized, turning to you. “i’ve been storing some of the stuff from our studio here, since i sometimes work from home and it was more convenient to have it here instead of my room.”

“i see…” you nodded, trying your best not to peek at the contents of the box. “if you don’t mind me asking, what do you work as?”

“some of my friends and me, we’ve opened a tattoo and piercing studio earlier this year. i only do tattoos though, some of the others do piercings additionally,” he explained to you, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. your mouth fell open, making you look like a fish. you couldn’t hide your excitement, eyes gleaming like you’d just discovered the biggest treasure you’ve ever seen.

“really? that’s so cool! yuuji never told me you were a tattooist, i would love to see your works someday,” you grinned from ear to ear while choso looked away from you, not being able to handle the praise. although he appreciated the sentiment, he didn’t know how to respond to compliments - the feeling was foreign to him.

"yeah, sure," choso replied with a strained voice. in the dim light, no one would be able to make out how the tips of his ears reddened and choso was thankful for that. he cleared his voice, slowly trudging outside of the room to show you the rest of his apartment.

when yuuji had mentioned that he’d found a potential roommate for choso, he didn’t tell anything else. choso didn’t expect it to be yuuji’s co-worker, much less someone whose energy was so bright and happy unlike his gloomy self. he briefly wondered whether you were okay with living here - even if you were desperate to find an apartment, surely you'd at least want someone who was… more open and less intimidating than him.

you trailed behind his broad frame, carefully taking in the entirety of the apartment. it seemed like there was nothing to worry about. even though you've only known him for a few minutes, you felt at ease with him and that gave you a better feeling about moving in with him. yuuji was innocently sitting on the couch, spooning the soup choso had prepared earlier while watching tv. his eyes followed the pair, relieved that there was less awkwardness than he anticipated but slightly suspicious because… there was something.

as choso showed you the rest of the apartment - kitchen, living room and bathroom - he comprehensively explained expenses and house rules to you. there weren't many rules to begin with; choso simply disliked clutter and expected everything to be put back to its original place after use, being noisy was a no-go as well. everything in between was negotiable. by the end of the apartment tour, you joined yuuji in the living room. he shot you a questioning look, raising his eyebrow in curiosity. you were certain that you'd take the offer. there was no way this opportunity would go to waste.

"thank you for showing me around, choso," you smiled at him gratefully. "if you're okay with me moving in, i'd love to become your roommate. i think we'll get along well."

the last box was haphazardly tossed in the corner of your room, earning you a disapproving glare from choso. exhausted, you flopped on the bed and spread across it like a starfish. choso placed the remaining boxes on the floor. moving day was, despite choso coming to your rescue, utterly chaotic and tiring. your muscles were aching from overexertion and there was no remaining energy or nerve for you to attend to unpacking. you felt like a jellylike mass.

"i'll cook something for us. do you have any preferences or dislikes?"

you lifted your head slightly to peek at choso who was standing in the doorway, on his way out. “you’ll cook for me? what are you, an angel?”

choso didn’t reply, simply stared at you. he was used to such antics - it reminded him of his childhood when he was still living with yuuji and taking care of him. lethargically, you shook your head and planted your face back in the pillow. "no, i'm okay with anything. will inhale anything as long as it's edible," though your voice was muffled, choso understood you nonetheless. he made a confused, albeit affirmative noise before disappearing. a long exhale left your lips. truthfully, you were lucky to have an amazing roommate like choso. even though you didn't know each other well and he wasn't very talkative, he was very much willing to help. with time, you were sure he would warm up to you and become great friends. your eyes were slowly drooping, the exhaustion settling in your bones. within minutes, you dozed off into a deep, comfortable slumber. you didn't wake until a knock roused you out of your sleep, startling you in the process.

"huh? yeah?" you scrambled hastily, trying to fix the bird's nest that was your hair. choso did not need to see you in this state - delirious from being woken up from your deep slumber, feeling as if you'd woken up in a new century and with imprints of your pillows and blanket on your skin. before you could make yourself presentable, choso had already opened the door and stared at you unabashedly.

you blinked dumbfounded, staring back at him.

“food’s ready. you coming?” choso gave you a questioning look, waiting for a reaction. so apparently, he did not care what you looked like after waking up. he didn’t even bat an eyelid at your messy state, unfazed by it.

“uh yeah, give me a minute,” you replied after a few moments passed, sitting up tiredly. choso nodded before closing the door behind him as he returned to the kitchen. grabbing yourself a fluffy blanket, you wrapped it around yourself and waddled outside. whatever he had prepared, it smelled divine. you hummed in content as you took a seat at the dining table. the table was already set, dishes still steaming and looking so inviting that you had to stop yourself from drooling. choso padded to the table, placing some drinks on the table before taking a seat as well. as he described the dishes he'd cooked for the two of you, you inconspicuously looked him up and down. this time, without yuuji catching wind of it.

you knew choso was tall and very broad but you only realized the full extent of it seeing how the chair seemed tiny in comparison to his frame. his hair was down for a change, falling just above his shoulders. as usual, he was wearing comfortable clothes; a big shirt, big enough that you could admire his arm muscles and hands every time the sleeves moved. not only was he attractive, he was incredibly attentive and helpful as well, not expecting anything in return.

"thank you for cooking, i really appreciate it. looks really good," you complimented choso, taking a bite from the dish. you hummed delighted, wiggling in your seat happily. "oh my god, this is so delicious! where did you learn cooking like this?"

"i used to cook for yuuji and myself a lot."

"i wanna return the favour too but now i kind of feel inadequate," you joked lightly, smiling at him sheepishly. while you weren't the worst cook, you weren't outstandingly great either. choso however, was probably the best cook you knew.

"i don't mind. as long as you do your best, it's the thought that counts."

you nodded in agreement, taking a sip from your drink. silence fell over you; a comfortable silence however, both of you just enjoying the food. you supposed it wasn't too bad if you took your time getting to know each other - after all, choso seemed like someone who would quickly recoil if cornered. it wasn't too much of a concern.

after finishing the meal, you helped him clean up and wash the dishes. nudging him gently, you asked: "do you want to watch some movies after? yuuji recommended me a few that i have yet to check out."

choso took the plates, drying them with the towel before placing them back to their designated spots. "sure, you're responsible for the movie selection then."

spending time with choso was easy, almost too easy. you were glad that the two of you were off to a good start, he didn't seem to mind your company and you enjoyed his. cheerfully, you put the movie on, snuggling the blanket that was wrapped around you. the way you were laying on the couch was reminding choso of a little burrito. unbeknownst to him, the corner of his lips lifted a little at the sight. he waited until you noticed him and shuffled a little so he could sit on the couch as well. the movie you had chosen was a lighthearted comedy, one that yuuji had highly praised and recommended you watch first.

midway through the movies, the exhaustion was creeping up on you, making you feel heavy and sleepy until you slumped against choso's side. he glanced to the side, observing you to see whether you would wake up. soft and steady breaths left your lips, already asleep within seconds. choso pondered whether to wake you now, worrying that you would miss out on the movie that you were so eager to watch. you looked so peaceful that he felt bad, deciding to wake you once the movie was over. but even choso couldn't shake the tiredness, gradually slumping against you until sleep overtook him as well.

as the sun was rising, light was flooding the apartment, filling it with warmth. you scrunched your eyebrows at the brightness, attempting to move so it wouldn't blind you. the first thing you noticed was your strained neck - probably because of the weird position you had slept in - and the second thing was that something heavy was laying on your lap. blinking in confusion, you peeked, groaning inwardly at the blinding light. black hair was splayed across your lap, connecting to… choso? oh no. oh no. you must've fallen asleep while watching the movie and judging how choso was comfortably using your lap as a pillow, he did as well. embarrassment spread throughout your body; this wasn't supposed to happen, much less with someone you didn't know so well.

now that you were unintentionally watching him, you felt creepy. the situation was too perplexing to you - should you wake him now? or just wait… until he woke up? but what if you had to pee. what if choso wasn’t going to wake up until a few hours later? what if he woke up and saw you staring at him like a creep? though you did think he looked vulnerable and peaceful in this state, unusual from his intimidating, unwavering self. it made your heart tingle with an unknown feeling, softly bubbling with curiosity.

beneath you, choso was moving slightly, shuffling around until he felt comfortable. you stayed still, tensely watching his next movements. he remained still for a while, making you exhale in relief. until he didn’t. choso blinked a few times, trying to make sense of his surroundings until his gaze fell onto yours. and you stared back, frozen in fear. even if he was the one laying on your lap, you felt anxious.

“uh i… we must’ve fallen asleep last night, ha ha…”

“you fell asleep early on and i was going to wake you after the movie ended but fell asleep myself, i’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable,” choso apologized sincerely and sat up right away, rubbing his eyes sleepily. even though he looked rather deadpan, there was a trace of embarrassment on his face.

“oh no, it’s okay! we both fell asleep after all… ah, since we’re roommates, we’re sort of friends now, right? so don’t mind it too much, it happens!” you gave choso a reassuring smile, showing him that there was no bad blood between you.

choso nodded slowly. “i guess so. i’m glad you don’t mind. "

an awkward pause.

"do you have classes anytime soon? i can make breakfast for us.”

and just like that, the tension between you was alleviated. not completely gone, but barely noticeable. choso stretched like a cat, yawning quietly before he got up. you couldn't help but glance at his toned stomach, eyes almost bulging at the sight. turning to the side, you hid your face and cleared your voice. "i don't have classes today but i have to go to work later. so i won't say no to breakfast if you're making it."

"how's living with choso?" yuuji questioned you curiously, leaning against the counter. lowering the pen and writing board you were holding, you hummed in thought. in the past few weeks, the two of you had settled into a comfortable routine. there were minor hiccups here and there but the issues were easily resolved - somehow, you silently understood each other, an important foundation for a good friendship.

"pretty relaxing, to be honest. he's a good roommate and friend," you replied, clicking with the pen which earned you an annoying glance from yuuji. "you should've told me he was a great cook! i don't think i've ever tasted any dishes that were as good as his."

"he cooks for you?" the surprised tone in yuuji's voice startled you. was that out of the ordinary? you just thought he was being a good friend when he prepared dinner for you whenever you had a late shift.

"uh yeah? mostly when i come home late or when we have movie nights together. i always tell him that i can definitely help but he insists that he's fine doing it himself."

"i see. choso just doesn't like people messing with his cooking routine, that's all. i'm not even allowed near the kitchen, even though i'm not that bad of a cook either," yuuji laughed, scratching his head sheepishly. he wasn't going to tell you why he was perplexed by the fact that choso willingly cooked for you. it was too early to make any assumptions; he just couldn't shake the feeling that there was something at play. no one knew his brother better than him - choso would never do any favours for persons he didn't care about, persons that weren't family or extremely close friends. while they had talked about choso's thoughts about you, he never mentioned anything more than getting along well and often spending time together. for choso's standards, you were a quite close friend.

"oh, and here i was, thinking that he must really hate my cooking skills. so it's just that," you concluded, grinning happily. he was weirdly persistent about it but knowing this detail about him, you'd stop pestering him in the future. "hey do you wanna come over tomorrow? it's movie night again, i'm sure you'd enjoy it too."

"hmm, sounds tempting. if you can convince choso to cook, i'm in."

"pff, who would say no to this face," you retorted mischievously, showing yuuji the best puppy face you could muster up. he groaned, pushing you gently.

"show off," he told you jokingly and rolled his eyes. "i don't know how choso tolerates you."

"you're just jealous, huh? didn't think you had that emotion in you. choso and me are the bestest of friends, of course we get along well," you stuck your tongue out at yuuji before leaving him to his own devices as you bolted to the cash register to help a customer. as you animatedly conversed with them, yuuji shook his head. it was obvious that there was some attraction but that was something he'd let you figure out. cupid wasn't a well-fitting job for him. friends, my ass.

"huh, did you say something, yuuji?"

"no, not at all."

soft, melodious music was playing in the background as you silently sat at the counter, watching choso prepare some meals before yuuji was visiting. this time, you heeded his advice, not pestering his brother about needing help and instead just opting to watch him and make light conversation. choso seemed to have noticed as well, mood ever so slightly lifted when he saw you simply taking a seat and asking about his day. he liked this routine, being able to go about his day without someone unwantedly poking their nose into his business until he felt comfortable enough to talk about it. as you absentmindedly doodled on a napkin, choso casually told you about his day at work. about squirmy customers who were getting their first tattoo done, about those that had interesting ideas that he was still trying to find ways to implement, about how noisy his co-workers were and that they wanted to have a night out soon.

“do you wanna join us? you said you wanted to meet my friends,” choso asked, briefly glancing up at you as he was dicing the vegetables. it was true, you did inquire about his friends at some point, more so jokingly and out of curiosity - although he complained about them every now and then, you could tell that he deeply cared about them. choso was the kind of person who acted like a mother hen around friends and sometimes nagged a lot more than you anticipated. but then somehow, miraculously, every minuscule task that would stress you was completed and topped with a freshly made, warm dish by the end of the day. he wasn't good with words but his actions made up for it.

you didn’t expect him to offer you to tag along. he was comfortable enough to introduce you to his friends, even seemed to trust you with them. it felt… strangely heartwarming. "i would love to join you but i have quite a lot of assignments piling up; i'll have to do some night shifts to finish them," you replied and sighed ruefully, putting the pen away. "i'll tag along once i've finished everything, okay?"

choso frowned slightly. "but don't overwork yourself. you'll end up frustrated and burnt out," he told you earnestly, reaching out to pat your head. you gaped at him, the fond gesture making you feel flustered. it was nice knowing that he was looking out for you. choso stared back at you, seemingly startled by his own gesture as well. his hand had moved faster than he could react - he didn't know what to make of it.

the ring of the doorbell interrupted every trail of thought and you jumped up quickly. "i'll get it!" you sprinted towards the entrance, letting yuuji in. perhaps you greeted him too overzealously, yuuji looked at you like he knew something was up. nonetheless, he didn't mention anything, instead presenting you the bottle of wine and some dvds that he brought. choso gave his younger brother an acknowledging grunt, too absorbed in his tasks. taking in his surroundings as he got comfortable on the couch, he noticed some subtle changes in the apartment - the numerous pillows and fleece blankets littered across the couch, the set of matching mugs as well as choso's sketchbooks and, presumably, your textbooks on the coffee table. it was obvious that the two of you spent a lot of time together.

even throughout dinner, yuuji realized that choso had taken a liking to you, more than he probably realized and let on. he almost felt like a third wheel watching how you animatedly talked about trivial things and even more so when it was movie time. like a little burrito, you were wrapped in a blanket, leaning against choso. though it surprised yuuji to see his older brother opening up to you so rapidly, he was happy about it. although chaotic and clumsy, you were a good person and a positive influence. having witnessing how choso had closed up and how hurt he had been after the break up of his previous relationship, yuuji was glad that he wasn't cautious around you and welcomed your presence. even though… both of you were painfully oblivious.

"should we wake her?" yuuji asked as he saw you snuggling into choso's side, peacefully sleeping while the movie was still on.

"no, it's okay. she often falls asleep midway through movies, i just let her sleep. probably exhausted from uni."

yuuji looked at him as if he grew three heads. "so you just let her sleep? and you… sleep on the couch too?"

"hm? yeah, kind of. i feel bad about waking her and we're friends so it's not that big of a deal," choso replied innocently, shifting slightly so he was comfortable while keeping his arm around you. ever so slightly, he leaned onto you.

yuuji buried his face in his hands, silently screaming. don't comment on it, don't say anything, it's none of your business. you might have pink hair but you're no cupid.

utterly exhausted, you made your way into the apartment. you flopped onto the couch, grunting in irritation when you heard choso calling your name. staying put, you just laid there and listened to his footsteps nearing. "you okay? did anything happen?" he questioned, leaning over the couch to look at you. you weren't even sure what to answer, whatever you were feeling at the moment was an accumulation of stress across multiple weeks. you were frustrated with your projects, feeling like you weren't making any progress and not having time for yourself whatsoever. all you needed was a break, a pick me up.

"do you wanna talk about it?" choso repeated again but you shook your head, lifting your head slightly to look at him. he almost felt bad for thinking that you looked adorable, the way you huffed in frustration with a little pout on your lips. you shook your head, hugging one of the pillows.

"not now, later maybe?"

"okay. i'll make you a cup of tea." he disappeared from your field of vision. you listened to the sound of the kettle, closing your eyes as you focused on it. slowly, your erratic thoughts came to a halt. your breath and heartbeat steadied and you gradually felt more calm. clack. choso placed the cup of tea on the coffee table, taking a seat next to you. he was hesitant to touch you just yet, waiting for another reaction from you. sniffling quietly, you sat up and thanked him quietly.

"choso?"

"hm?"

"can i have a hug?" you inquired meekly. he didn't reply, simply pulling you into his arms. without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck. he smelled nice, like freshly washed laundry and the shampoo he was using. it reminded you of home, making you feel more at ease. gently, choso rubbed your back; wherever his fingers moved, it left a trail of goosebumps on your skin. not that he noticed anyways, fortunately. for a few minutes, only the sound of breathing resounded. it was calming and warm - choso was warm, so warm - you almost fell asleep. humming quietly, you moved closer to him.

"today was just really… bad. everything went wrong," you confided in him. "it made me feel like shit, like i couldn't do anything right. i guess i just feel really stressed so i can't concentrate on anything."

choso leaned forward, reaching out to grab the cup of tea. you squeaked in surprise, holding onto him so you wouldn't drop backwards. his left arm snaked around your waist, keeping you in place as he leaned back again. you moved back a little, as far as choso's arm allowed you to, and took the cup from him, taking small sips. "i think you're doing okay," he told you, drawing patterns on your back. "it's only natural to feel this way when everything's been piling up. what you need is a good rest and have a reset, you'll feel more refreshed and inspired to work on your projects. and don't hesitate to ask for help, no matter whether it's a professor or classmate."

"i also told you not to overwork yourself, didn't i? and don't think i can't tell that you've been pulling all nighters," he scolded you, pinching your cheek playfully. it made you giggle, tilting your head to get away from his hand.

"yeah i know, i know. just couldn't help it, it's a bad habit. i'll try to get better at it," you promised him, giving him a reassuring smile. "thank you for listening to me."

"it's the least i can do."

a comfortable silence fell over you. choso continued to rub your back in an attempt to soothe your nerves while you sipped your tea. you were grateful for him, he was an amazing friend - you didn’t even know how to show gratitude to him. awkwardly turning to put the mug back on the table, you then leaned against him. “choso?” you hummed against his chest, snaking your arms around his waist. “you know you can talk to me about problems too, right?”

“what do you think we’ve been doing these past few weeks?” he retorted and chuckled in amusement. “you should try to go to bed now. get some rest, you’ll feel better tomorrow.”

you pouted, not wanting to move. fortunately, he couldn’t see the face you were making - you weren’t ready to let him go just yet, wanting to memorize the expanse of his chest, his warmth, the way his arms felt around you. it made you feel safe, like a temporary relief to your anxiety. “can we… can we watch a movie maybe? i’m not sleepy yet.”

of course, choso saw right through you. “you always say that and then you fall asleep midway. you just don’t want to move, huh?”

“okay, you caught me,” you giggled hysterically as he stood up slowly and pretended to let you fall, catching you before you fell. clinging onto his shoulders, you wrapped your legs around his waist. you refused to let go. unbothered, he held you by your thighs as he waddled across the living room towards the console to choose a dvd to watch. while clinging onto choso, you could hear his heart beating rapidly - you chalked it up to how strenuous it must be to carry you around. choso, on other hand, couldn’t put a finger on the warm, tingly feeling inside of him. did he like having you around like this? stupid, of course he did, you were good friends after all. spending time with you was relaxing for him as well. back on the couch, he let you use his lap as a pillow, absentmindedly combing his fingers through your hair. the two of you remained in this position until both inevitably fell asleep, movie still playing in the background.

“y/n. earth to y/n. dude, can you hear me?” nobara was frantically waving papers in front of your face, rolling her eyes as you snapped out of your trance and took them from her. to your delight, the two of you shared quite a few classes this semester which meant that you could usually share the workload as well. you copied some of her notes, hastily scribbling them in your notebook.

"sorry, i was lost in thought. what did you say?"

"i asked you whether you wanna go out later? the whole crew is coming, it's been a while anyways," your friend repeated, placing her little cosmetics bag on the table to check her makeup and apply another layer of lip gloss.

"ah sorry, i already have plans for today, maybe ano-"

"with whom?" she asked pointedly, narrowing her eyes at you. in recent times, you've been rejecting her offers to hang out a lot; whether it be because of studying or hanging out with… "wait, are you having a date with that roommate of yours again?"

"it's not a date!" you briefly paused, giving her a dirty look. nobara was weirdly persistent about this dating thing, claiming that you would never get anywhere if you didn't make a move. "his name is choso, yuuji's older brother. i told you a million times already. he's been a really good friend and taking care of me when i feel stressed, so i thought it would be time for me to do the same for him."

"a really good friend?" a doubtful look was shot your way.

"yeah, i mean yuuji cooks for us all the time, how is it any different? anyways, i'll join you guys another day, okay?"

nobara stayed still for a moment. you truly didn't realize how much you's been mentioning choso. choso this, choso that, choso here, choso there. even yuuji had confided in her that he thought you might have developed a crush on his older brother though he wasn't certain. nobara, however, was sure. but operation make y/n realize things proved to be more difficult, considering you hadn't had a crush before as you were never interested in relationships.

"fine. but in return, you have to tell me about choso. what do you think of him?" nobara stuffed her belongings into the impossibly full handbag. propping her chin on her hands, she leaned closer to you with a shit-eating grin. you sighed, putting the papers away. it was no use trying to focus on your assignments when she was in an investigative mood. she wouldn't let go of the issue until you gave her a satisfactory answer. and for some reason, it irked you that she was inquiring about choso. why was she so curious about him? couldn't she have asked yuuji instead? it was his brother after all. maybe nobara was… interested in choso? you narrowed your eyes at her.

"i think he's great. might be intimidating at first and not very talkative but when he opens up to you, he's actually a softie. very respectful and polite towards people, always thinks of others first. and not to mention, he's really talented too! he often acts like he's annoyed by people or minds his own business but he really does care a lot. you feel comforted by his presence when you're close with him," you rambled, trying to list all the positive points about him that you could think of. nobara nodded slightly as she was listening to you, making it difficult to gauge her stance on him. was she going to confess now? maybe you should confront her about it. yeah, she would never admit it otherwise. "nobara, are you interested in choso? if you wanted me to introduce you to him, you could've just asked."

nobara stared at you with an open mouth. checkmate.

"you know i wouldn't have judged you at all! after all, choso is handsome too. so really, you don't have to sneak around about this," you concluded triumphantly, patting her arm in reassurance. it filled you with pride to be able to catch nobara off guard for once - usually, she was very composed and ready to give you a sassy answer.

"y/n, sweetie. you're so very wrong." nobara sighed, dejectedly pushing your hand away. you were incredibly dense when it came to feelings and relationships. maybe it would be more amusing to just watch everything pan out. “i don’t really care about choso, that’s your man after all.”

“yeah, yeah, i- wait what?”

thankfully, you arrived home earlier than choso did - for once. and for once, this friday was going to be a relaxing one, seeing as you’d finally finished your projects and assignments and could finally engage in a much needed self care day. placing the groceries bags on the counter, you went through the ingredients again just to make sure you didn’t forget anything. yuuji had given you a recipe for his famous meatballs recipe, claiming that it was one of choso’s favourite dishes. in recent times, choso seemed to be exhausted and sometimes even easily irritable after work - considering how much he did for you, it was only fair for you to treat him as well. surprising him seemed to be the best course of action.

making quick work of the ingredients, you took your time to clean the apartment while the soup was still cooking. yuuji was kind enough to lend you a few dvds, not even asking you whether you were going to watch them with choso anymore. while you felt bad about turning your friends down yet again, you promised yourself to make it up to them in the future by inviting them over for a sleepover or movie night. though knowing them, they would not let you stay in the comfort of your home but drag you to a party or club again. especially nobara would always insist on dragging you along, while megumi and yuuji didn’t really care about where they would be going for the night. her excuse was to find you a partner, claiming that it was about time you realized how cute you were, which you vehemently denied. even maki had told her to pipe it down at some point. all the more, it made you suspicious that nobara had not brought the topic up anymore. you couldn’t imagine her giving up so quickly, considering how persistent she had been for almost a year now.

the jingle of the keys and the soft click of the door made you stop whatever you were doing, peeking around the corner to see choso coming in. giggling quietly, you watched as he stopped in his tracks and sniffed the air, seemingly confused about the scent of the soup. he turned around upon hearing you, a small, almost unnoticeable smile on his lips. “up to no good?” he questioned you teasingly, placing his bag and jacket in the wardrobe. huffing, you stuck your tongue out at him and shook your head. you padded over to him, softly tugging at the sleeve of his shirt to make him follow you to the kitchen.

“since you always cook for me, i thought it would be time for me to do the same for you. yuuji showed me your favourite dish but i’m not sure if it turned out as well as he always makes it,” you sheepishly explained, showing him the pot of soup and the bowls and cutlery that you’d already laid out. choso hugged your side, squeezing your waist gently before patting your head and muttering a quiet thank you. your chest filled with pride, finally being helpful to him for once. if you weren’t careful, it would burst - he fuelled your ego even more as he complimented you, telling you how well the soup turned out and that he really appreciated it. you knew he wasn’t lying, for one because he was a sincere person and always offered heartfelt compliments, and because of how eagerly he was eating, practically inhaling the soup in one go. he even looked like he was in a food coma by the time you finished dinner, making you ban him from the kitchen to take a rest on the couch.

after washing the dishes, you came back to the living room to see him lie across the couch, eyes closed and calmly breathing. he looked like he was taking a nap, until he opened his eyes to peek at you as you approached. giddily, you joined him on the couch, showing him the hair products that you’d already placed on the coffee table. “can i give you a massage and do… uh hair stuff? i really like it when people brush my hair and stuff and i thought you might enjoy it too,” you explain to him. choso contemplated for a few seconds before shrugging nonchalantly. yes! you signaled him to sit on the floor in front of you as you pressed play. with the sound of the movie in the background, you focused on choso’s hair and took off the hair ties first. he got comfortable, turning towards the tv and learning his head against the edge of the couch. gently running your fingers through his hair, you made sure to detangle rough knots before massaging his scalp gently. you could tell that choso was beginning to relax by the way his shoulders were slowly sagging. in silence, you worked through the entirety of his scalp before moving on to brush his hair.

if you didn’t already know that choso was a naturally withdrawn person, you would’ve been concerned by how quiet he was and how he didn’t show any reactions to the movie. you were glad that he seemed to like the entire hair spa ordeal; he didn’t even seem to mind that you were using your hair products on him, the soft floral scent now emanating from his hair as you massaged it through the tips and then brushed it in slow strokes. by the time you were done, he looked utterly relaxed, struggling to keep his eyes open as he climbed back on the couch and sat next to you. without having to ask, he wrapped his arms around you. yawning quietly, you moved closer to him, turning your attention to the tv. habitually, his hands moved against your back, drawing shapes and patterns. slowly, choso could feel the heat in his body rising and chalked it up to the close proximity. it did make him feel a little uneasy however; he shifted you around on his lap until he felt comfortable. abruptly halting his movements, he froze as you turned to him, ass grazing his groin. an electric shock ran through him. subconsciously, he jolted at the friction. the tips of his ears turned red in embarrassment but he reassured you he was fine when you looked at him concerned. what the hell was that? was his body now not listening to him after being so relaxed?

“choso, can i ask you something?” you leaned back slightly to look at him.

“you already did. but yeah, go ahead.” choso grinned at the little huff you let out, grasping your hand in time as you tried to hit his chest and intertwined your fingers so you couldn’t move.

“uh this might sound weird but i think a friend of mine is interested in you. nobara, do you know her?” you squeezed his hand, moving it around with yours. “she asked me about you the other day.”

“huh, really? isn’t that one of yuuji’s friends too?”

you nodded in agreement. “yeah, we’re all friends. i only told her good things about you, of course.”

choso hesitated. he wasn’t sure what to tell you, not wanting to say something about your friend that could upset you. but the truth was, he wasn’t really interested in anyone right now. the recent breakup had done a number on him and he felt like he hadn’t properly moved on just yet. not when the thoughts were still obsessively circling in his head. but when choso was with you, they miraculously seemed to disappear, making him feel more at ease. “i’m not really looking for anything right now, sorry. i don’t really want to disappoint her, i’m just not really up for a relationship right now,” he told you truthfully, giving you an apologetic smile.

you stopped in your movements, nodding slightly in understanding. and still, it made your heart seize up for an unknown reason.

ps.: the story of how it takes reader and choso ages until they realize their feelings or alternatively: nobara and yuuji unwillingly turn into cupids

#jujutsu kaisen #choso #kamo choso #choso kamo #choso x reader #kamo choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #choso x you #kamo choso x you #choso kamo x you #choso imagines #choso kamo imagines #kamo choso imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen imagines #fic: home #writing

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y0itsbri · 3 years

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Hi Bri 🥰

C-16 if you'd like to 👀

Coffee dates and disasters

au with college!lip and barista!mandy where ian is a frequent visitor at the campus café and meets mickey under rather unfortunate circumstances. don't cry over spilled milk, buddy.

which also fits under a.u.gust for @gallavichthings

words: 2.4k

"never would have thought you the type to come to one of these places," ian mused, looking around the small café with only lamps and string lights illuminating the space. "can't believe college changed you, man," ian clutched at his heart dramatically.

"don't worry. 'm still the annoying bastard you love so dearly," lip squeezed ian's shoulder before he sauntered up to the counter.

the barista's bored expressed brightened when she saw them. her perky demeanor was matched by a high pitched voice, "hey lip," she smiled, dark lipstick striking. she appraised ian with a somewhat predatory eye, "hello, lip's friend."

"uh, brother," ian coughed.

lip rolled his eyes, "and he's gay so don't even try it, mandy."

she pouted and flicked her hair behind her shoulder, "not that it's any of your business, anyways."

ian chuckled besides him, drawing another smile out of mandy, this one kinder, sweeter.

"what can i get you boys?"

the pink highlights glistened in her dark hair as she whipped up lip's cold brew and ian's caramel macchiato, then proceeded to insist that this one is on the house. neither of them argued, but thanked her before they settled down in some stools by the window.

"fucking the barista privileges?" ian asked, raising his eyebrow at his slut of a brother.

"i think of it more like fellow south sider charity," he rubbed his bottom lip, "but yours works too," lip smirked around the edges of his coffee cup.

"you're an idiot."

"can a man who got us free drinks really be deemed an idiot?" lip philosophized.

ian paused, taking a moment of thorough consideration. he looked lip straight in the eyes as he answered, "if that man is you, then without a doubt."

lip tried to knock ian's cup out of his hand, but failed at his attempt. ian thanked his well-practiced jrotc skills and a lifetime experience of growing up in a house packed with annoying siblings for his victory.

they chatted about the robotics classes lip was taking, how he got full-time access to one of the labs, and his weird ass roommate who may or may not be gay if ian is at all interested. ian scrunched up his face. after hearing so many horror stories about the guy, ian didn't want anywhere near him. he wasn't that desperate yet.

the second that lip was out of his seat and heading to the bathroom, the beautiful mess that was mandy descended.

"hiiii lip's gay brother," she leaned against the table.

"it's ian," he spun his empty cup in his hands. he couldn't help himself from smiling at her charisma.

"well hi, ian, i just wanted to say sorry if i spooked you earlier. i just had no idea lip's brother would be so cute!"

"his ugly mug's not too hard to beat." ian laughed. "he got the short end of the gallagher stick, literally."

"cute and charming. you're funny, ian gallagher, i like you." she placed her hand on his shoulder for a moment, a movement so soft compared to her rather frantic appearance. "come back here anytime and it's on the house, yeah? i work most evenings after three."

"oh. uh- okay," ian scrambled for words, "thanks."

she squeezed his shoulder once before lip returned with a rather obnoxious entrance.

"ayo mands, stop harassing him!"

ian ducked his head in embarrassment.

"oh, shut up! i'm just clearing your cups," she winked at ian as she left.

mandy was something else. but she was kind and good company. ian could get used to the chill atmosphere over the chaos of the gallagher house anytime. he might just take up her offer.

"you'd think with all the time you spend here, you'd be offered a scholarship or something by now." mandy sipped on her chocolate frappuccino as she laid her feet across ian's lap. he always made sure to come visit during her breaks at least twice a week during the past couple months.

ian shrugged, "guess they only had room for one gallagher."

mandy hit his arm in a way that hurt. lip was fucked if he ever broke her heart.

"does fiona even know that this is where you sneak off to?"

"yeah." mandy's look said she didn't believe him. "well, kinda. she thinks i'm visiting lip, brotherly duties and all."

"yeah? how are those brotherly duties?"

"fuck if i know."

she laughed.

"i still think you should apply here for next fall," she encouraged, "could take some art classes."

"i suck at art."

"chemistry?"

"failed that."

"business?"

"yeah, no thanks."

mandy flipped him off, "fine. botany?

"ya know what? sure." he had always wanted to grow tomatoes.

"really?!"

"heart wants what it wants, mandy. we can't all be psychology brainiacs."

"brains and beauty, what can i say?" she teased. ian laughed, eyes glistening towards his friend. mandy made things better.

"hey," she continued, "there's this concert on the main campus lawn this weekend, you should totally come!"

"isn't that just for students?"

"they don't card, dummy."

"right, right, i knew that."

"sureeee. you in?"

ian mentally checked his work schedule.

"i'm in."

lip and ian strolled into the café a few days later. okay, maybe ian had felt a bit guilty for abandoning his brotherly duties lately, but at least this way he could hang out with both his best friends. well he could have if he remembered the fact that mandy had the day off for her behavioral neuroscience midterm. they had literally spent her previous shift reviewing the terms, he should have known.

ian's couldn't help his face from falling as another blonde barista took their orders, mostly eyeing lip the whole time.

"hi lip," she smiled a little too sincerely, "what can i get for you today?"

ian had ordered something new at the recommendation of the blonde and he was not a fan. and to make matters worse, he had to actually pay for the atrocity that he wouldn't even be able to finish.

"so how's your little coffee dates with mandy?" lip asked over his cup.

ian nearly choked on his god-awful americano. "how'd you know?"

"please. she's obsessed with you. every time i see her, it's 'ian this,' 'ian that,' 'ian might apply here in next year.'"

"oh."

"yeah, oh. when were you gonna tell me?!"

“it’s all mandy’s idea, i’m not even sure i want to,” ian muttered, refusing to make eye contact.

“dude, i’ve literally shared a room with you since the day you popped out of monica’s wretched womb, you think I can’t tell when you’re lying?”

okay maybe ian had been getting increasingly more excited about the idea of attending school and actually learning things that he wants to learn. something that might actually lead him somewhere real since rotc was looking more and more like a poor man's fantasy the more that he thought about it.

“I was gonna tell you, swear on it.” and he was. once he convinced himself that lip wasn't going to straight up laugh in his face. but the look in his eye seemed genuinely supportive.

“mhm, i gotta catch my english lit class," lip stood up, swinging his tattered tan backpack across one shoulder. he patted ian's shoulder in his big brother ways, "don’t be a stranger, yeah?”

“yeah, yeah for sure! have fun learning a language you already know!” lip flipped him off at his smartass remark.

soon after, ian stood up to return his drink to the counter, the anxiety from the conversation making him entirely lose whatever appetite he might have had. plus, it wasn’t the same here without lip or mandy. he just wanted to be wrapped up in a cocoon in his own bed. but that was so far away. maybe he could catch an early ride—

thump.

ian crashed into a guy’s sturdy body.

the remnants of his shitty drink spilled in an americano nightmare over both of them, ceramic pieces shattering on the floor in a truly horrific manner.

ian yipped and the other man let out a grunt of irritation.

they were fucking soaked. well, at least the coffee wasn't hot? ian tried justifying the situation, but, nah, this was bad.

"shit! i'm so sorry, lemme," ian reached out and the shorter man flinched away.

they were now far enough apart that ian got a good look at him. a leather jacket.. now covered in ian's drink -- shit. and shockingly piercing blue eyes that lingered too long on ian's before his cheeks turned a shade of pink that made ian's stomach flutter.

he might have seemed cold if he didn’t make ian feel so warm.

"it’s cool, man. i gotta go, uh," and he walked out of the café without looking back.

fuck.

ian smelled like coffee the entire train ride to the back of the yards. he laid in his bed regretting his entire life.

no mandy. no lip. no dignity.

the day of the concert that mandy had invited him to rolled around. ian wouldn’t admit it, but he was nervous to spend a coffee-less evening with mandy, their entire friendship built inside that one room. his little bubble of safety was bursting.

well, to be honest, the bubble had burst the moment that his disaster of a coffee was spilled onto one of the most ridiculously pretty guys that he's ever seen. every time he closed his eyes, he remembered the guy’s face shift from hostile to something else. he was torn between wanting to know the his name and also on never seeing him again in fear that he would simply pass away of embarrassment.

hopefully mandy hadn't heard about it. they may not have been friends for a long time, but he already knew that she would never let him live it down.

"hey ian!" her familiar voice called. that sounded promising.

his face fell with relief as he finally spotted her at the corner. she embraced him in a warm hug before pulling back and giving him a once over.

"huh, could have sworn you'd still have coffee behind your ear or something after the description karen gave me of your little disaster the other day." she smirked, quite literally double checking behind his ears as they turned hot under her gaze.

"ugh, fuck, how much did she tell you?" he itched his forehead and scrunched up his nose.

"oh, calm your tits, it's funny as fuck." she giggled, punching his arm in a way that still unintentionally hurt.

"whatever. are you excited for the concert tonight?"

their reunion conversation lulled eventually, and ian noticed that they weren't necessarily standing alone.

no. fucking. way.

just his luck, if he was being honest. he probably deserved this.

there he stood. the man that has plagued his dreams the past few days. in a light wash jean jacket that was a little tight on the biceps, leaning casually against the wall, kicking the pebbles on the ground with his boot.

"uh, what's he doing here?" ian gestured towards the victim of The Coffee Incident.

“what, you know him?” mandy asked, walking them towards him.

“vaguely.” if that wasn’t the understatement of the year.

"huh. i didn’t think my idiot brother had any friends."

brother? how did ian not realize she had a brother?

"what, did you think i was going to babysit you all night? i can't let everyone here thinking you're my boyfriend, no offense or whatever, but you're in good hands!" she kissed his cheek, clearly not helping her own not-looking-like-her-boyfriend rule.

ian eyed said brother's good hands only to see the faded letters of FUCK U-UP on them. oh.

mandy pushed ian over to her brother, "ian, mickey. mickey, ian," she introduced before pushing and shuffling her way through the crowd of college students to find herself someone’s cheap ass fruity alcohol to mooch off of.

mickey. ian's brain repeated over and over, a chime against the murmuring sea of voices they found themselves enveloped by.

"nice jacket," ian pointed out, an awkward attempt to converse before shoving his hands back in his pockets.

"it's my second favorite." the corners of his mouth lifted like there was more to the statement. ian took the bait, as if he could resist.

"what's your first?"

"first is still airing out the fuckin’ coffee smell," he smirked as ian groaned. "oh c’mon, man, don't go crying over spilled milk."

how could he not? on the bright side, he didn’t seemed to hate ian for it.

“if it was anyone else,” mickey drawled, “they’d have to get a beat down for it.”

“why do I get a free pass?” ian mused.

“well, you’re mandy’s friend, right?”

“yup,” ian tried to suppress his disappointment. he really did. but fiona always told him he wore his heart on his sleeve.

“yeah, that ain’t why, though,” his eyebrows waggled suggestively and ian nearly felt his heart drop out of his ass.

ian blessed whatever coffee god was out there for sending him both mandy and the beautiful man in front of him.

“you wanna go listen to the band?” ian nodded his head towards the stage with passionate players jumping around like they were playing lollapalooza or some shit.

“lead the way, stud, just try to keep your drinks off of me this time,” mickey knocked into ian’s own flannel covered shoulder.

yeah, ian couldn’t believe his luck. maybe karma was finally on his side.

—

mandy smirked at her brother and best friend not-so-subtly checking each other out over the course of the night, bopping their heads to the music and downing whatever free booze they could get their hands on.

she hoped that adding mickey to the equation would be enough incentive to convince ian to stick around. things were better when he was near.

the way that ian followed mickey around like a lost puppy with that dopey moon-eyed look, it seemed like her hopes would come true.

and when both ian and mickey strolled into the café to come visit her at work the next week, mickey in his worse-for-wear leather jacket and ian in borrowed denim, she thanks the coffee gods for her luck.

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