#its exhausted. first of all. and its lonely. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rileyslibrary · 9 months

Text

The Log Cabin: Wish and Hope

Synopsis: You go on a vacation with the Lieutenant at his log cabin.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

Word Count: 2,617

A/N:

Wholesome fluff.

This is the final part of the story, but you can also read it as a one-shot. (Part 1 & Part 2 if you’re interested)

The inspiration behind the exterior/interior of the cabin.

Also, writing this chapter was quite the journey.

———————————————————————

The sun has almost set by the time you reach your destination.

Simon parks the car at the bottom of the hill, where the road ends, marking the boundary between civilisation and the wilderness. He retrieves his balaclava from the back seat’s pocket and scans the surroundings before getting out of the car.

“Get the axe and Bourbon from the backseat,” he instructs as he steps out.

You follow his directive, picking up the well-worn axe and a bottle of amber liquid from the backseat.

Simon slings his rucksack over his shoulder and tucks his mask into one of the front pockets. He takes your bag with one hand and a red toolbox from the car’s floor with the other.

You show him the axe and Bourbon from across the car, shaking both in your hands. With your supplies gathered, you exchange a nod—a habit you picked up from the field—and begin your way up the hill, leaving the car behind.

———————————————————————

You walk beside him, but he’s gaining ground quickly. He looks unfazed by the long journey—as if he hadn’t spent the entire day driving.

You, on the other hand, are exhausted. Each stride feels heavier on your legs, and the uneven path doesn’t help. The moss cushions your steps, making it difficult to gauge the depth of the ground beneath you.

Sometimes, you stumble, and he glances back to check on you. He looks you up and down, assessing you, before returning his attention to the trail ahead.

“Tired?” he asks, which feels more like a rhetorical question—an observation, a statement—than as a genuine concern.

You shake your head. Fatigue clouds your thoughts, and you fail to register that he can’t perceive your nonverbal response. He turns around once more, waiting for an answer.

“Nope,” you reply, forcing yourself to stand a bit taller. “Not tired at all.”

His gaze shifts forward, and you slump.

You try to focus on your senses, hoping to distract your mind until you reach the cabin. You look up at the tree branches, outlined by the fading light, casting a dark shadow above you. You listen to the birds calling, the insects responding, and a stream nearby. You take a deep breath, smelling the pine and wet ground. It seems like it rained not long ago. It’s a bit chilly. You wonder why you didn’t bring your jacket, only to recall that it’s August. Then you realise it’s August but in the Scottish woodlands.

———————————————————————

You must have walked for another fifteen minutes before the cabin finally reveals itself. It’s almost dark now, but you can see the worn wood that graces it. The hut is tiny, way smaller than you imagined, with a triangular roof and a chimney. How does one fit a fireplace in there? How does he fit in there? How are you both going to fit in there?

A small front porch extends from the cabin’s entrance, complete with a lone chair and a lantern hung next to the door. A serene pond reflects the darkening sky nearby, its surface motionless, still, mimicking the night.

As you approach the cabin, you notice a smaller room that you assume to be the toilet—a logical consideration given the cabin’s size. An open shower is nearby, next to a tree, shielded by strategically placed vertical logs for privacy.

Simon places your bags on the porch and retrieves the lantern. He fills it with fuel, lights it up, and hands it to you. He unlocks the cabin door, pushes it open, and motions with his head for you to take the first step inside.

It’s cosy. Intimate. How will he handle such closeness?

A two-seater brown leather sofa invites you to relax while a small fireplace stands against the wall. A compact table with a lone chair marks the boundary between the living room and the kitchen, which consists of a fire stove, a single counter, and exposed cabinets stocked with plates, cups, and utensils.

You concentrate on a nook at the far end of the kitchen, where a double bed is placed. It’s so snug it looks like the room was built around it. A small window in the bed’s headboard frames a view of the outside shower.

“Did you build this by yourself?” You ask, placing the axe and the Bourbon on the table.

Simon’s head pops in from the doorway at the sound of your voice.

“What?” he asks.

“This,” you gesture to the cabin. “Did you build it on your own?”

He seems surprised by your question. “Me?” he points to himself. “Nah, I found it like this.”

“You found it like this,” you echo, raising your eyebrows.

“I bought it that way and made a few tweaks,” he explains as he places your bags on the sofa and proceeds to get into the details of his modifications.

You focus again on the interior, capturing the nuances he points out. The stove, the sofa, the solitary chair beside the table – they all reflect his choices. That’s him; you’ve never seen him like this. Or, at least, this side of him.

“Also installed a couple of solar panels; I’ll go check on ’em,” he concludes, grabbing a flashlight from the toolbox. “We eat when I come back, yeah?”

You nod, but he’s already heading out, leaving you alone in the cabin. You set the lantern on the kitchen table.

You want to rest, but the sofa is covered with bags and equipment, and you’re too weary to clear them away. The lone chair by the table doesn’t look like it would do any favours for your achy back. Instead, you opt for the bed. You sit on its edge and pat the mattress.

Thoughts bubble to the surface, and your mind focuses on a particular issue—the sleeping arrangements. Yes, you’re comrades who shared a bed out of necessity before, but that was a different scenario—now, sleeping together in a bed while on vacation? A shared vacation? That’s an entirely different matter.

As you reflect, your fingers graze the sheets. They’re soft—inviting. Leaning back, you sink into the mattress, its comfort drawing you in. The hiss of the lantern, paired with your breath, becomes a lullaby in the cabin’s silence. As the emotional strain and the tension in your body eases, the bed cradles you, its comfort pulling you deeper into its embrace. The day’s worries fade away with each breath. You close your eyes one last time for the day.

———————————————————————

The morning sun filters in through the bedroom window, gently nudging you awake. You blink, focusing on the wooden wall that stands inches away from your nose. You sit up slowly. Strange—your body isn’t positioned the way it was when you drifted off to sleep.

You turn at the empty space beside you; he is not there, yet the slightly flattened pillow and the tousled sheets hint that he has occupied that spot. There’s also a subtle change in your clothing; while you’re still dressed the same as yesterday, your shoes are missing. You wiggle your toes.

The sounds of the outdoors seep into the cabin, and you look out the window. Yesterday must have drained you completely. Sliding to the edge of the bed, you plant your bare feet onto the cool wooden floor, spying your shoes near the cabin entrance. As you approach them, you instinctively reach for Simon’s jacket, hanging over the chair. Wrapping yourself in it, you inhale deeply at its collar.

You slip into your shoes and open the cabin door. The brisk morning air greets you first, biting at your skin, and you hug Simon’s jacket tighter around you. A weird sound is coming from somewhere nearby that feels out of place from its surroundings.

Your eyes narrow toward the source—something by the pond. You shield your eyes from the sun’s glare, and the source becomes clearer. Simon stands at the pond’s edge, wearing a grey shirt that clings to his sweat-dampened chest. Gripping the axe with both hands, he raises it overhead, the blade briefly shining before descending with a solid thud. It bites into the wood and splits it in half with an audible crack. Then again. And again. And again.

Occasionally, he lets out a soft grunt as he swings the axe, releasing the tension from his body until he repeats the same movement. The sweat glistens on his skin, and his biceps flex with every lift, then relaxing with each hatch.

“Morning,” you finally say.

He pauses mid-swing and looks up. He sets the axe down against a log and wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Dark patches are spreading from his underarms. He’s breathless, so he nods at you instead.

“What happened in there?” you ask, motioning towards the bed.

Simon’s lips curl up. A single droplet drips from the tip of his nose as he bends and picks up the axe again.

“You confused sleeping with dying; that’s what happened.”

You chuckle. “You couldn’t wake me up, huh?”

He shakes his head, still smiling. “For someone who claims to be ‘not tired at all,’ you sure fell asleep like a rock,” he says, swinging the axe once more to split another log.

“Tea?” you offer.

“Please.”

You grin. “Beg a little, will you?”

He lets out a chuckle. “Careful now,” he warns you jokingly, giving the axe a casual twirl in his hand and keeping on working.

You roll your eyes and make your way to the kitchen. You grab a kettle, fill it with water, and place it on the stove. Opening the tea box, you browse the selection with your finger, then turn to search for Simon outside, thinking of asking him about his tea preference. However, he’s nowhere to be found. Redirecting your focus to the options, you speculate he’d be content with whatever you choose; he wouldn’t bring them here if he didn’t like them. You settle on Earl Grey.

As the water heats up, you ready the teapot with the tea blend and look out the window above the bed. There’s movement. You take a closer look.

Simon stands right by the shower. He slowly peels off his shirt, revealing his upper body inch by inch, and drapes it over the partition as he steps into the shower. His jeans and boxers follow suit, finding their place next to his shirt. He lifts his hand and turns on the shower head, finally releasing the water he yearns for after his hard work. His eyes shut as he lets the water flow down his body, starting from his head, tracing the line of his neck, and continuing down to his shoulders.

Did you lose your ability to breathe, or did time slow down? Does it matter? And, close your gaping mouth; you’ve seen nothing extraordinary. I, on the other hand, have seen every inch of him. Pathetic.

At least, that’s what the kettle appears to be screaming at you as it whistles for your attention. You remove it from the heat, pour it into the teapot and set it aside. You return to the window above the bed; Simon is no longer there.

You curse at the kettle.

———————————————————————

With the soothing warmth of tea inside you, you set out on a hiking adventure into the forest. It’s a familiar trail to Simon, yet the landscape seems untouched—whispering leaves, twittering birds, the distant murmur of a nearby stream. Sunlight filters through the foliage, draping the ground with a delicate pattern of golden lace. Moss and decomposing leaves mingle with the sweet fragrance of wildflowers to create a unique scent.

As you continue on the trail, you get captivated by an ancient tree standing alone, gnarled and weathered by time. Its roots grip the earth like they were there before your kind began to call this place home, and its branches reach for the sky as if praying to the gods. You touch its trunk and feel unworthy.

“Naychuh.” Simon’s voice breaks the silence. It takes a few seconds for you to register what he just said.

“Indeed,” you add. “Nature.”

“It’s amazing how they can withstand everything and remain so strong,” he observes, tracing the tree’s bark with his fingers. “Resilient.”

“I wish I were like that.” You murmur.

He averts his gaze, releasing his grip on the trunk. “The environment definitely helps,” he comments, shrugging. “Plant this tree in the Caribbean, and it’ll be dead in a week, but here?” He taps the trunk. “It flourishes.”

“Our environment isn’t very… flourishing, Lieutenant.”

“Simon,” he corrects you with a smile and motions towards the path ahead. “This way.”

The walk continues, each step leading you deeper into the woods. Neither of you utters another word. The nearby stream does all of the talking for you.

———————————————————————

The journey back to the cabin is easy; you both seem relaxed, no matter the distance you have walked. The forest’s inhabitants appear to switch shifts, preparing for the night; birds cease to chirp, and owls take their positions. Shadows lengthen, and the air carries a gentle chill, hinting at the approaching evening.

You’re filthy but content. Happy. You light the lantern and pull out fresh clothes from your bag.

Simon squats in front of the fire pit outside, preparing it for grilling. He piles the logs he cut earlier into the pit, tosses in some dried pine needles, and lights them up.

Two very different ways of getting burned stand before you. You step closer to him.

“Mind if I hit the showers?” you ask.

“Go ahead,” he says, nodding towards the enclosure.

“Promise you won’t look?”

“Not a fucking pervert like you are,” he jokes with a playful smile on his lips as he pokes the fire. “Spying from the windows.”

“I beg your pardon,” you snap, your face slowly turning red. “I wasn’t spying!”

“Sure, you weren’t.”

“I wasn’t!” You retort and smile. “I was simply enjoying what nature had to offer.”

He stifles a chuckle and shakes his head. “We eat in 20,” he announces. “Go.”

———————————————————————

With the sun now entirely gone, the fire glows brighter against the darkness.

You sit side by side, close to the fire, content from the shared meal. Each of you holds a glass of Bourbon and looks up at the sky, admiring the shooting stars.

A chuckle escapes you, catching Simon’s attention.

“What?” he asks, his brows knitted together.

You look down at the glass in your hand, then back up at the sky.

“Nothing,” you mutter. “I just find it funny how trees stay resilient while stars fall.”

He follows your line of sight to the night sky.

“Trees fall, just like stars,” he says, swaying his glass. “And just like us.”

“Interesting perspective, Lieut—”

“Simon,”

“Interesting perspective, Simon.”

He nods. “We all fall when the time comes.” He whispers.

You tilt your head, studying his profile. He’s aware of your gaze, yet he doesn’t shy away.

“But every fall serves a purpose,” he continues. “Trees offer us warmth, for example.”

“And what about us?” You ask.

“We put ourselves on the line to protect others.”

“Is that what you think we do? Protect?”

“I try to find some reasoning behind it,” he admits, shrugging.

Your focus shifts back to the night sky.

“And what about stars?” you wonder. “What purpose do shooting stars hold? Creating a spectacle for us, the protectors?”

He takes a sip from his glass, a soft smile on his lips.

“They make us wish,” he murmurs. “They make us wish and hope.”

———————————————————————

2K notes · View notes

white-poppie · 3 months

Text

PILLOW TALK ⎯ f.toji x reader

SYNOPSIS ⎯ You and Toji have been friends with benefits for months.But your find yourself breaking the very first rule that Toji had set. Beneath the surface of laughter and stolen kisses, a storm of unspoken emotions brews. You have to leave this fragile arrangement...to save yourself from getting hurt from the one sided longing (or so you thought.) GENRE: angst to fluff! INFO: fem reader!, a lone '.' indicates a short timeskip!, Non jujutsu au!, Megumi doesn't exist yet (sorry 'gumi!) WARNINGS: fwb dynamics, situationship, brief mentions of Getou x reader, Gojo being a boy bsf, reader is a university student living alone, age-gap, mentions of seggs (obv but nothing happens cause we holy here.). reader feels guilty, a lot of flashback between the lines, screaming, toji being emotionally constipated, so many metaphors, "Cause I love you!" angry confession. WC: 3k+ (get comfy lol)

Your breaths come in short, hallow gasps, that familiar ache settling in your lower body as you sigh, looking at Toji who rolls down to the space next to you. Both of your breaths fogging the nipping cold.

Seconds turn to minutes, the air in the room thick with the smell of sweat and pleasure. Your frayed breaths soon return to normal, your eyes start drooping in exhaustion.

“Toji..” you mumble turning to face him. He’s lying on the bed with his hand behinds his head.

“Hm? he hums, his gravely voice knocking on the ventricles of your heart.

You don’t reply, just silently stare at his the chisel of his face, the arch of his nose, the thin lines of his lips and the scar that adorns the surface.

“What’s up?” His voice interjects your train of thoughts. He tilts his head over to look at you.

Your eyes feel heavy. Limbs are cold and his heat⏤is a magnet. "Cold." you whisper out, your fingers mindlessly pressing on the pads of his larger, thicker digits.

His onyx eyes are fixed on you. Not a twitch on his face when you play with his fingers. Toji sits up for second. Grabbing the hem of blanket that rests on both of your waists and draws it up until your shoulders, before lying down.

You could only faintly make out his expression from the nightlight. His eyes softening a sliver. But it’s gone before you can comprehend it. Makes you wonder if it ever existed at all or if it was your weary, exhausted and post dopamine rush brain playing tricks.

“You’re starin’ a lot today.” He smirks, an uncouth remark of 'did I do you so good?' Or 'I know I’m hot' just sitting on his lips, but he decides against saying it.

"Sorry." You mumble. The apology cascades down your lips so easily you wonder if it was truly for the staring or something more.

Toji nods slowly, deciding against saying anything, but flinches when your fingers brush against his forearm. He doesn't shift away repulsuvely (to your surprise).

Lays still, starting at the ceiling while your hand is just barely resting on hand⏤ for the faintest human contact. And before you know it, the exhaustion of all the physical exertion tonight, lulls you into sleep quickly.

Toji stays awake for a little longer, shifting to his side as he silently observes you. The way your lips are parted a little, hair tussled from before. He reaches to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear, before he catches himself midway. His eyebrows furrow and he stares at his own hand at the strange instinct that had bubbled in him.

He gulps deeply as he stares at your sleeping self for a couple of seconds longer before he sits up, wearing his clothes that were tossed onto the floor. He stands still in the centre of your room, taking a deep breath, pushing his hair back. He looks back at you and leaves, closing the door behind him, slowly but making sure its locked.

Toji sighs and takes his phone out of his pocket, walking into the street, his dms flooded with messages of girls.

He frowns and closes his phone again, not bothering to read them. Until recently Toji would have replied to most of them...nowadays he doesn't find the energy or the will to do it.

"How did my life get so monotonous?" he says to himself as he walks home. He wonders what happened that he so fixated upon one girl. he says its monotonous, but oddly he's not complaining.

"Must be the age catchin' up." He thinks. His face and body are intact to the wind of aging, everything the same as it was a few years ago except the few greying hair on his head. Not that he minds, its bound to happen one day.

Toji closes the door of his house behind him as he flops down on the couch. Its cold. He wonders when he got used to the warmth of your bed. Its dangerous for him. He has to end this before it gets out of hand. He won't go to your apartment again he decided.

The night drowned and the day arose, the sound of your 3 consecutive alarms rang loudly in the studio apartment.

Reaching out your hand instinctively to the other side before a shiver ripples through you at the cold mattress brushing against your skin. Ah, he left again.

Getting up you decide to finish your chores, getting ready for university.

There's a faint emptiness that lingers in your chest throughout the day. The time ticks and hours continue to spend. Its uncomfortable and yet you are unable to point out where it is coming from.

"What's wrong?" A voice interjects. You look over to Gojo, sitting on the desk behind you as the professor continues in the background.

"What do you mean?" You hum mindlessly.

"Don't hit me with that bs, this is the 8th time you have sighed in the past two minutes." He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. You don't reply.

"Toji left you high and dry last night?" he snickers and you pass him a sharp look.

You and Toji first met up through Gojo on New year's eve. And it was impossible not to be drawn in by Toji's aura : scalding fire in a desolate winter. And you were moth, a moth to the flame.

"Oh so it is about Toji." He whistles lowly, looking around before he leans in. "What happened?"

You sigh. How are you supposed to explain it to him when you yourself don't know what you are feeling. Its just a sickly feeling that is leaving you so confused.

"Dunno." You whisper out and he crooks his eyebrows, wanting you to elaborate. You look at him, "Its complicated."

"Hell yeah it is," he scoffs, "I told you not to get involved with him."

“I know, Satoru.” You huff in annoyance. You did not want him to chastise you further with his words.

“But what exactly is the problem?” He ushers.

"I- don't know how to explain it, but I feel empty? I hate when it ends like I know he put on the rules and stuff about how no cuddling, no kissing...but its feeling meaningless. Its supposed to be no strings attached but now there's a ball of yarn." You groan, burying your face in your hands.

Gojo's eyebrows furrow for a second before he looks at you. "Get out of it."

"What?"

"Get rid of this dynamic before its too late." He murmurs.

"Why?"

"Y/N." He says incredulously. "You are catching feelings."

Catching feelings? Entirely impossible. There is no way you were catching feelings for Toji. There was no way you yearning for an embrace post coitus, or wanting him to tenderly caress you, to want a kiss actually meant you were catching feelings, right?

... shit

"Shit, Satoru..." you gape, slapping a hand to your mouth as your heart beat sped up. What you thought were feelings like empathy and just care, were much deeper⏤ Satoru helped you have this epiphany.

Gojo's eyes soften before he sighs, "Move on. You should go on some dates, that would help you actually get a view how many better guys are there." He pauses, "You should go on a date with Suguru."

"Suguru?" You ask quizzically. The guy was in the pol.sci major of your university⏤ him and Satoru go way back, best friends forever.

"He always seems interested in you, I can set you guys up, I’ll give him your number.” He says and you nod, almost defeatedly.

The lecture soon gets over. You pack your things and leave the campus, but your mind is adrift down the memory lane.

The first time you and Toji hooked up is a vivid memory. It was a summer night, sometime in Feb. Gojo had invited you over to his house for a party. The music was loud, the liquor pounding in your ears, your body swaying to the beats.

And his eyes.

His eyes, oh my god, they embraced you- undressed you. They called to you and you couldn't resist like Orpheus couldn't help but look at Eurydice. And before you knew you it, the two of you had ended up behind closed doors.

The way his hands burned upon your flesh, that smirk that gutted you inside out and the butterflies that erupted when he said in his hoary voice, hovering over you. “This isn’t going to be a one time thing sweetheart.” He had whispered, “But let’s set rules for this time and all the fun times to come:”

He had said and you had whined at how he started talking leaving you half naked at which he had obnoxiously laughed.

“Rule 1: no falling in love.” He murmured, the cicatrix decorating the corner of his lip, raising slightly when he spoke the words you have now come to dread.

How did it come to this, you wonder. How did you end up catching feelings for a man so brutish in his ways, so twisted in his deeds?

It must be because of how he restraints himself every time...no it must be cause of the little convos you have when you are all wound up. If you try to remember there were so many days affection and warmth for him had erupted from you.

The day he told you the story behind his scars. The way your heart cracked at the fogginess in his eyes, the coldness in his words. And before you knew it, your fingers were tracing them. He had looked at your finger, unblinking, unflinching, almost leaning into your touch before a smile graced his face that had you flushing red.

The day you somehow broke into tears in his arms after a bad day at college. How mortified you had felt when fat tears rolled down your cheeks. How he suddenly froze, asking what was wrong, the way his eyebrows had slight furrowed, worried that he had somehow hurt you. Before you shook your head and apologised, spilling everything out. Toji had sighed, his eyes softened before his hand reluctantly moved to pat your head

There were too many such incidences that you could go on listing, but it only made you realise that you had sunk a little too deep in this quicksand

You sigh closing the door of your apartment leaning against the wooden contraption.

Ping!

You sigh and check the notification on your phone

(Unknown) Hey Y/N, this is Suguru. Satoru gave me your number.

Are you free this Sunday? I was thinking do you wanna hangout? There's a really good restraunt that just opened in the city.

You bite your lip, knowing that leavin him on seen would be so goddamn rude, but you don't know what do...

(You) Hey Suguru! Sounds good, give me a little time to think about it.

(Suguru) No problem, I'll be waiting

You feel terrible, like a sick twisted woman who is playing with both Suguru and Toji and at the same time. You keep a hand over your mouth, sucking in sharp breaths to let go of the nauseating feeling.

"What am I even doing?" You laugh unhumourosly to yourself.

What do you want? You don't know what you want. Do you want a man like Toji⏤ to be irrevocably in love with you? To cherish you? A man⏤god you don't even specifically know what he does for a living, whatever it is, its not good.

His knuckles are often battered, body bruised like it suffered an impact. You had asked him before and he had said something along the lines of "A man's got to make money doll, sometimes even through dangerous work."

Do you want someone like that to love you?

No. (yes)

A soft cry leaves your mouth as you grip the flower vase next on the table, 'in a crazed female hysteria' as the books say, smashing it against the wall before it shatters into pieces, and so does a little skin of your palm.

You wince and decide to shake it off, returning to the more important work. Your uninjured hand reaches to your phone once again. Someone wise had once said, "Sometimes holding on hurts more than letting go." And what are you holding onto? Some delusions in your mind that are bound to pain you when Toji gets bored?

(You) Come over?

(Toji) I'm on my way

Toji had learned too much about you within this little span of a few months, your likes, dislikes...your body's likes and dislikes. Your tone, mood, expressions; he had observed enough to know your state of mind despite how paradoxical you can be. He knew something was wrong.

It made his stomach churn at the thought of you in discomfort. Despite how much ever he tried to deny it, you had softened him around his edges.

And despite how he had told himself otherwise, he was back in your apartment once again.

It awkward. The way he is just standing there, taking in the mood before actually doing anything. His eyes are searching yours for a signal.

What is he supposed to do? Should he just latch himself onto you wordlessly like he used to? Thats animalistic. He is not an animal.

You take a deep breath, just staring into his onyx eyes, surprised at how he is being considerate? Perhaps he all along was, you just failed to notice before.

You wordlessly walk close to him, standing in front of the behemoth man. His eyes mover to your wrist that you are clutching. Its bandaged. He looks up and sees your bottom lip trembling and his face just drops.

His hand movs to grip your wrist and he looks at you with those fricking murderous eyes. "What the hell happened?" He asks and the sudden depth of his voice startles you.

You try to free your wrist from his grasp but its too tight. "Nothing- nothing happened I just cut myself by mistake, I swear." You say and his stiff shoulders soften before he nods and lowers your hand, still holding it.

You take a shaky breath, looking at your hand and then back into his eyes. He is not helping. Acting all concerned like he wants to hurt you. Like he enjoys playing with your heart

"I am going on a date with Getou." You drop the bomb and his eyebrows furrow, grip on your hand slipping out before he nods softly, wordlessly.

You're growing annoyed at his lack of reaction. But maybe it doesn;t effect him like you want it to. It makes you all more mad. "Say something. Toji"

"What am I supposed to say?" He says out, his voice wavering so slightly that you don't notice it, but inside he feels as if someone kept a boulder on his chest. Toji was old enough to know what this was, he didn't need to be denial because he had learned that care—not the fleeting kind that you think you vibe with a person— but the kind that your hearts beat in synchrony, the painful kind.

You take a shaky breath and chuckle a bitter laugh leaving your throat, "What are we Toji?"

And Toji swears he feels like the scummiest man on earth wehn he sees those fat tears brimming in your eyes.

And he knows he's going to hurt you if he says it out loud so instead he opts for saving both of you from the hurt.

"Fooling around, we’re fooling around, that’s all. That’s what we’ve been doing all along, right?" He says but its not convincing.

"Bullshit." You scoff. "Then why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like...its something more than these stupid rules in this stupid mess we've gotten ourselves in." You shout out and Toji's jaw clenches.

"Fuck, what do you want me to do?" He grits out and you freeze for a second. He sees your reaction and his jaw unclenches, tone a lot softer, "You want me address this and make it worse? You want me ruin your life, baby, I can do that. I can do that well enough that why I set those rules. I set them for my sake and now I am keeping them up for your sake."

You grab the collar of his shirt, "Why are you caring?! If you want to kiss me, kiss me! Why do you care if I get hurt!"

"Cause I love you!" He shouts, his voice echoing in your apartment. "And I don't want you to get hurt. I know I have dug my grave, I don't know where it went wrong, alright? I cannot be bound to a thing, a place heck even a person and somehow, here I am, so weak for someone, its going to get me killed."

"Toji..." you whimper out, your voice cracking, you are killing him.

"You can't fix me, Y/N. I am going to hurt you and myself." He whisper and before you know it, his thumb is tracing your jaw so tenderly you feeling like its a dream.

"I don't want to fix you." You mumble out, leaning against his hand, "You are a good person Toji, deep beneath all that, I don't need to fix you, if I needed to, you wouldn't be right here."

Toji breaths out deeply, leaning his neck down to place his forehead against yours, "You make me wanna be a better man." He whispers, pressing his lips against yours.

Getou wakes up at 2 to his phone ringing. Without checking the caller he picks up the phone irritated at who disturbed his sleep.

"Hello?" he mumbles out sleepily.

"Forget about her." Says Toji's voice that makes him flinch. He checks the caller Id ihis eyes widening when he sees the name 'Y/n' on his phone...looks like Satoru clearly forgot some details.

- FANFICTIONS

A/N: My longest fic yet, phew. Guys I spent so long on this, please show some love?

748 notes · View notes

boyfiejay · 4 months

Text

Forever with you

PAIRING : Idol! Park Jongseong x gn Reader

GENRE : hurt, comfort, fluff

Warning : jay almost collapses, they are overworked, he cries, short appearance of Jungwon

Word Count : 1.1k

Author's Note : this has been on my mind for so long, i just had to write idol jay. Also he is just very lovesick and loverboy coded here, its just me projecting what i want my man to be like 😋

Jongseong loved being Enhypen's Jay but he loved being your Jongie just as much.

Enhypen have been travelling around the world, holding concerts in countries they haven't visited and meeting fans that supported them since i-land. And although he loved meeting his fans and the thrill of it all, he missed you.

He missed you so much, he felt like he was going insane. It was overwhelming for him to experience such a strong desire to meet someone.

He had been homesick before, he had wanted to meet his mom out of the blue many times but it was something that could be easily forgotten if he drowned himself in work. But he never thought that being away from you would hurt so much.

Even when you two were in the same city, you wouldn't get to meet everyday. But there was a sense of security knowing he could visit you anytime he wanted. But now that he was thousands of miles away, it made him feel lonely.

At first the concerts had been a piece of cake, the excitement overpowering the exhaustion. But as months passed and the exhaustion started becoming more unbearable, all of them were constantly on edge, getting irritated easily and snapping at each other.

Today he felt particularly needy, he wasn't the over clingy type but today he wanted nothing more than being wrapped in your arms. Your soft fingers grazing his cheeks and looking at him in a way that made him feel giddy inside.

He wanted you.

Jay felt beyond exhausted, the worst he's felt in the recent weeks. He was trying his best to not snap at anyone, but today he was too tired to care about how rudely he talked to Jake. Or how he glared at Sunghoon for simply coughing too loud.

Moreover everyone was walking on eggshells around him, he didn't miss the way Sunoo scrambled to turn off his phone when Jay glanced at him. Everyone looked like they were hiding something.

He didn't put much thought to it, and although worn out, tried to give his best on stage.

Jay felt dizzy. He almost collapsed a little before their last song and was strictly ordered by Heeseung to rest for a bit. His manager was refusing to give his phone, concerned that Jay might see something he shouldn't on the internet.

But Jay didn't care about what people thought at the moment, all he wanted to do was talk to you, hear your voice as you would worriedly ask him if he was fine.

Soon after the concert ended, they went straight to their hotels. They were supposed to have dinner with everyone, but Jay looked extremely pale, so the idea was scratched.

And now he was sitting in his hotel room – which he got all for himself – freshened up and staring at his phone, wondering why you haven't replied to his text from earlier.

Much to his disappointment, there was a knock on the door. Before he could even grumble about who it was, the door was pushed wide open by Jungwon.

Any other time, Jay would've been thankful that it was Jungwon and not the others. He was just easier to talk to, and he really didn't want to bicker with the other currently. But right now, Jungwon had the evilest grin on his face, maybe not evil but the point stands.

"What is it?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper. At his question, Jungwon's grin widened, "Nothing, can't I just come visit you?" he said, voice dripping with fake innocence.

Jay gave him a look, they both knew that Jungwon was up to something so why was he beating around the bush?

"Okay fine, since you've been working so hard, i wanted to give you a gift." he said, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

He pulled someone from the hallway, making them stand beside him.

Jay couldn't believe his eyes, were you really in front of him? Your lips stretched to give him the widest smile, the prettiest one he's ever seen, as he claims.

Before he could realise, he was walking towards you, his body working without command. As soon as he was close enough, he was pulling in a hug. Your arms circling his shoulders as he pushed his head in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent that he's missed so much. He didn't even realise when Jungwon had walked out the door, shutting it after him.

It was suddenly dawning on him, you were really here. You travelled such a long distance just so you could meet him, did you miss him just as much? Jay knew the answer to that.

His eyes started to water as he hugged you tighter, oh but you have no idea of how much he's missed you. Your hands caressing the back of his head, letting his tears wet your shirt.

You pulled out of the hug, still pressed against him. There was that look again, you looked at him with so much love, like he painted the night sky and put stars in it. Your eyes slightly wet with tears as you took in his form.

He lost so much weight, eye bags under his eyes. His eyes were bloodshot due to the tears, but you had a suspicion that they were already a bit red.

But he still looked handsome as ever, even with tears running down his cheeks.

You thumbs wiped away the tears, he nuzzled his cheek in the palm of your hand, his bigger ones coming up to grasp at yours. He was scared that this was just a dream and he was going to wake up to an empty room.

Almost like you read his mind, "I'm here, I'm not going anywhere, alright?" you whispered "I missed you so much."

"You have no idea how much I missed you." he said, voice still trembling as his other hand on your waist pulled you even closer.

In the quiet of the room, the two lovers embraced each other. In that moment Jay realised that you were the one for him, the one he was willing to spend his life with. He wanted to wake up to see your beautiful face, cook for you, take you on fancy dates and all the cringey couples stuff.

It hurt him that he couldn't be with you, that he had to travel around the world and stay away from you for so long. He felt like the shittest boyfriend, but the way you mumbled 'I love you' against his lips, made him realise that you would stay by his side forever.

775 notes · View notes

matchibee · 11 months

Text

Wedding Ring

a misunderstanding between you and Miguel. I didn’t proofread but I did cry

Empty days and lonely nights. From sunrise to sunset your every waking moment felt as though it was spent on your lonesome, only your darling daughter there to fill the void running rampant in your heart. A cavernous void not even the love of a child could fill.

Not when Miguel was the one that carved the path, yanked the love from within your chest and took it with him wherever his whim took him.

“I’m head of the Spider Society,” He’d told you a million times before, words he’d utter a million more. “They depend on me. I can’t abandon them because you’re…” Miguel bit his lip, ceasing himself from continuing his words, knowing he was in the wrong.

The two of you had confined yourselves to your bedroom, Gabriella seated happily upon her plush comforter, some sparkly movie gathering her entire attention.

This was the first time you’d seen Miguel in days, perhaps weeks. The only time you heard his voice or felt his touch was in the midst of slumber, his shadow slipping into bed beside you only to depart before the sun rose again.

An awful cycle, one that was taking its toll, you could feel it.

“I just miss you, that’s all.” You took a seat on the bed,

“And I miss you more,” Miguel spoke, his hand encapsulating your shoulder, a whisper of what you craved. “But I have responsibilities away from you, that don’t concern you. Everything I do is to keep the both of you safe.”

And you knew he was right, of course he was. Miguel wasn’t himself if he wasn’t protecting, providing. That was his personality, his calling. But you’d be damned if you didn’t admit you’d thought of the ways he lacked in his recent performance. “Everything concerns me,” Your words were firm, you refused to stand down, even if the situation had yet to escalate. “We are married, we are a team. Everything that happens to you concerns me because I need you to come home. I need you to be here and show that little girl you love her.”

Miguel groaned, a frustrated noise that stemmed from your lack of understanding, of compassion he wanted you to extend. “I’m doing my best.”

“Your best isn’t good enough, Miguel!”

The room fell silent, your eyes wide as Miguel shifted to his feet, clicking at a few buttons on his watch. “I have a mission I need to get to. I’ll try to be back tonight but… No promises.”

“Don’t do this,” You felt tears in your eyes, the burn erupting from your soul. “Get someone else to go.”

“I can’t do that.”

Tears slipped from your eyes, but you turned on your heel to keep Miguel from seeing, from questioning. With a nod of your head, hands enveloping your own frame, you urged him to go — to leave before you begged him to stay just this once, even if you knew the words would fall on deaf ears.

Miguel slipped through the window, and from the corner of your eye you watched, regretted your words.

Neaten, bloodied and bruised, Miguel slipped back through the window of your apartment. He’d left to tend to countless anomalies, variants persisting where they didn’t belong. And if you knew the truth about Miguel, you’d know he was just like them, inserting himself in a life where your Miguel was lost.

But he couldn’t leave you to suffer, couldn’t leave you to this life of misery. And what started out as a desperate yearning to be a father once more spiraled into something out of proportion. He’d established himself, invested his entirety into this universe. He’s be damned if he let it slip through his fingers.

But then he saw you nowhere to be found, your side of the bed empty, sheets still slick as though they’d never been touched.

Miguel sighed, figuring it was likely you’d confined yourself to the living room, needing a moment away from a place where words were the ultimate misdeed.

In the midst of his exhaustion Miguel slipped into the restroom, the luminescence burning his eyes, washing away dirt and grime that scattered across his body, sweat that clung to his skin as though in longing. He emerged feeling as though he were a new man, refreshed. Miguel was ready to confront you, to communicate the words that had sat upon the tip of his tongue all day.

‘I’m sorry.’

Miguel was sorry, unapologetically remorseful that he’d made you feel the way you felt, the way he seemed to push your needs aside for the greater good. But it could all be damned. Miguel would move the heavens and the earth to make you happy.

The very heavens that gifted your eyes the stars so that he could gaze into them, and the very lands that breathed life beneath your skin so that his hands might have something to hold. Sometimes, he felt the universe taunted him with your very existence, there but not his, an embodiment of perfection someone as flawed as him did not deserve.

The light of the restroom illuminated your bedroom, and there upon the nightstand Miguel felt his being shatter.

A ring. Your ring. The very ring he’d slipped upon your finger in the midst of heartfelt vows, an audience of yourselves, an oath whispered between you. The very ring he’d clenched in his pocket every time you smiled, the carefully crafted band that gave him the confidence to drop down onto his knee upon seeing you drifting off to sleep with his daughter — now your daughter — in your arms.

Miguel fell to his knees once more, this time not with adoration but with regret, clutching the band between his fingers as though they might drift away, taking every reminder of you with it.

Miguel scoured your share closet, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he noticed a few of your belongings had gone missing — shoes, shirts, accessories — things he’d bought you and items you’d arrived with seeming to scatter in their frequency. Hangers devoid of purpose, rocking back and forth as though taunting him.

But then his mind drifted once more, thinking to your daughter, the very thing that’d kept the both of you together when life seemed to suggest otherwise.

You wouldn’t leave without her.

The very thought had bile creeping up Miguel’s throat, legs without stability as he crept down the hall. The door to Gabri’s room was ajar, lights dimmed to nothing, not a sound picked up by his enhanced senses.

It took more courage to open the door than it had to battle everything he’d faced as Spider-Man.

But when he did, your arms wrapped tightly around Gabriella, all rationality seemed to return to him.

Miguel dropped to his knees at Gabriella’s bedside, pushing back stray wisps of hair, taking in her appearance. Mismatched clothes, articles of clothing he recognized as yours, a tiara crushed into the pillow her head had fallen upon.

“Miguel?” Your voice was a groggy whisper, yawning into your hand coated with marker stains.

He didn’t know what to say, just glad to see you, to hear your voice and know you were still there. “You’re here.” His voice cracked, clearing his throat, gathering himself as he watched Gabriella stir in her slumber.

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” You inquired, standing to your feet, kicking off mismatched shoes and ridding your wrists of scattered bracelets.

“I thought— I saw—“ Miguel held out your wedding band, the jewel glimmering in the moonlight. Slowly, without making a sound, you dropped to your knees beside Miguel, plucking the ring from between his fingertips and returning it to where it rightfully belonged.

“I took it off while I was washing dishes and had Gabriella put it away for me. I guess I forgot to put it back on.”

Miguel wiped tears from his eyes, your hand resting against his cheek. “And… Your clothes?”

This left you laughing, trailing your fingertips against his skin, doing your best to ignore the droplets of liquid that slipped from his eyes. “We had a little fashion show. I brought some of our clothes to use.”

Miguel furrowed his brows “Our?”

“Miguel O’Hara, I’ll be damned if our daughter gets marker stains on just my clothes. If I go down, you’re going down with me.”

Then his lips quirked into a smile. “Our.” Repeating the word, loving the way it fell from your lips, a reminder of your union.

“Speaking of which,” You held up one of Miguel’s collared work shirts, multicolored lipstick stains pressed into the collar. “Gabri said she saw some trend for this on YouTube — it’s cute, but didn’t we put parental controls on the TV?”

His eyes widened, mouth agape. “She must’ve seen the password. I’ll change it in the morning, Amor.”

You hummed, satisfied. Miguel inquiring which color was which, though in the moonlight it was obvious. Miguel could recognize your features blindfolded.

“Gabri insisted mine were red, and she chose a sparkly purple you bought her.”

Miguel looked away, knowing he was gonna hear it. “She liked it, you can’t blame me.”

“I’m blaming you for not getting me one! It smells like grapes, Miguel. Grapes!”

Miguel pulled you into his lap, chin resting upon the top of your head, sighing a content sigh. He could stay right here for eternity, his arms around you as you lulled to sleep in his chest. “Te quiero con todo mi corazón.”

You peppered kisses along his neck, whispering words of adoration, of longing. You missed this, missed him. “I’m so sorry for what I said, Miguel. It wasn’t right.”

Miguel shook his head. “I understand where you came from. I should be here more, I want to be here more.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, tilting your chin to place one on your lips.

“You guys need to learn how to whisper,” Gabriella called out into the darkness. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

#miguel o’hara #miguel ohara #across the spiderverse #beyond the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderverse #into the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderverse x reader #miguel o hara

1K notes · View notes

forlix · 6 months

Text

𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫・h.h.

— an impromptu drive to the airport at five in the morning rekindles conversations and feelings alike.

words・2.5k pairing・ex-boyfriend!hyunjin x gn!reader genres・angst, mutual pining, hurt w/no resolution, established (former) relationship, Airport Scene™ warnings・implied toxicity, strong language, Not a Happy Read

a/n・dear anon who asked where this went after i posted and deleted it a few months ago & dear other anon who requested mentioned hyune angst: this is for u, my loves

“I’m outside,” was how you were greeted over the phone earlier, in a tone so callous and cold that you barely recognized the speaker. Barely.

“Sorry, you’re what?”

“You have a flight today, right? I said I’d take you to the airport.”

One second, you were at a complete loss; the next, you thought you were going to erupt with how much you felt and how much you wanted to say, the weight of the situation hitting you with full force. Your ex-boyfriend, to whom you hadn’t spoken in nearly three weeks, had just materialized outside your home with no warning at the ass crack of dawn and suggested you get into a car alone with him for an hour.

As if that wasn’t the very last thing you wanted to do.

Briefly, you reflected on how you parted ways; you wouldn’t say the breakup was malicious, but it certainly wasn’t amicable, either. The longer your relationship went on, the more questions you raised—important and unavoidable considerations of your future together, none of which Hyunjin could give you substantial answers to. Whether it was because he couldn’t or because he simply didn’t care to try, you didn’t know. But the fact that you had to ask yourself that at all was enough for you to take a step back.

Distance morphed into passive aggression. That, in turn, precipitated constant conflict. The starlight that you saw in Hyunjin fizzled further with every biting word and slammed door. The resulting supernova was far from the beautiful spectacle you’d been promised in your astronomy textbooks.

Standing on the sidewalk outside your apartment was your fallen star in the flesh.

“Let me do this, Y/N."

You’d gone silent for what felt like whole minutes before Hyunjin spoke again.

"Please," he added. You perceived how the word weakened towards the end, some of the frost in his voice displaced by quiet exasperation.

It was these observations, plus the time displayed on the clock hanging above your bathroom door, that prompted you to take your luggage in hand and leave your apartment. You were going to miss your flight if you stood there, glowering silently, for any longer.

When you emerged into the frigid morning, you spotted Hyunjin’s silhouette immediately, and something inside you came undone, as though a knot had been doing itself over and over since you and him parted ways. Your eyes locked together, your gaze contemplative, his a little surprised, as if he didn’t actually expect you to accept his offer.

The first word that came to your mind was exhausted. You could tell that the shadows on his face weren’t just products of the lone streetlight above his head; he had his back curved in a slouch that made him look a few inches shorter than he was. You were reminded of a balloon with an indiscernible opening somewhere on its surface, gradually and inevitably deflating.

Much to your irritation, the second word to surface in your mind was beautiful. Hyunjin’s normally sharp features, from what you could see beneath his hood, were bare and smooth from fatigue; thick strands of dark hair, longer than you remembered, fell effortlessly over his forehead and his cheekbones; his figure somehow looked even broader, leaner when fitted in the loose material of a hoodie and sweatpants.

He was the spitting image of a man you used to know, who looked just like this whenever he wandered into your bedroom at the end of the day, whenever he wrapped you into his arms and littered kisses over your skin until sleep overcame the both of you like a warm, clear tide, whenever he greeted you with a smile that shone like the tropical sun the next morning.

You were standing in front of a ghost.

You broke eye contact first, averting your eyes to your luggage instead. Just in time to see and feel his hand brush against yours when he took your suitcases from you and loaded them into the trunk, all without saying a word.

Now, twenty minutes have passed since Hyunjin started driving, and forty remain before you reach the airport. The vehicle is deathly silent save for the drone of wheels against pavement and wind whistling against dusty windows. You haven’t looked at Hyunjin since you met him outside your place. Instead, your eyes are fixated on the lights of Seoul and the way they flicker out of sight one by one as you drive further away.

And you remember.

The different memories you have of this car blow through your mind like you’re skimming a flipbook. That time you burst into tears mid-drive and Hyunjin pulled over on the side of the highway, giving you his undivided attention as you ranted about the terrible day you’d had. That time you noticed a paparazzi van stationed around the corner and the two of you sank so low in your seats that you had to later unfold yourselves from beneath the glove compartments. The assorted dog-shaped air fresheners you bought for him, a new one hanging from the rear-view every month (except the one that resembled Kkami, which stuck around for almost a year). The caffeine-flavored kisses shared over the cupholders between the seats, one person tipping over the drinks precariously, the other moving to catch them with a soft huff of laughter. The extra hoodie he kept in his backseat for if you ever accidentally underdressed when you went out together. The playlist you curated together, always playing quietly in the background.

You never gave this car a second thought when you and Hyunjin were together, but it is only now that you realize the place felt a little like an extension of home, of him.

The silence becomes fucking excruciating.

You are not sure if Hyunjin is interested in speaking to you. You’re less sure if you even have anything to say to him. But you open your mouth anyway.

“Thank you,” you say, hardly audible. “For doing this.”

A pregnant pause follows. Hyunjin probably wasn’t expecting you to start a conversation—neither were you, to be fair.

Little do you know that he has been trying and failing to string together a sentence since the moment he started the engine, and hearing your voice feels like clouds parting on a foggy day, a singular ray of sunshine settling on his cheek.

“It’s no trouble,” he returns. He’s quiet for a while after this, and you’re beginning to think the conversation is already over when he clears his throat.

“How are you feeling? About the trip, I mean.”

“Good. I think it’ll be nice to get away from Seoul for some time.”

Your choice of answer is intentional, and you can tell by Hyunjin’s lack of immediate response that he picks up on this.

“And you?” You return. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine, thanks. The members and I went to the states a few days ago, finished up album promotions there.”

“Oh, right.” He’d told you about this; they’d been in Japan prior, if you remember correctly. “And everything went well?”

“Yeah. It was a lot of fun.”

“When did you get back?”

You don’t expect him to hesitate at such a simple question, but he does.

“Few hours ago,” he mumbles.

This takes you a few seconds to process. And then, so surprised at his answer that you can no longer help yourself, you finally lift your gaze to the side of Hyunjin’s face.

Your eyes comb over the fluorescent lights of the highway illuminating the slope of his nose; the weariness clouding his irises; his teeth latched gently around his lower lip, as if trying to prevent himself from saying another word.

Hyunjin turns his head to look at you, too, only for a few seconds and more out of anxiety than anything. But you have long mastered the art of reading the fine print of his facial expressions, and that brief interval is enough for you to catch what hadn’t been there the last time you’d looked him in the eye: the true reason why he’d hardly set his bags down on the dormitory floor before he was leaving again, piling into a car and going to you; the same entity that you know is etched all over your face, too.

Yearning.

He is the one who looks away first this time, with a soft snap of his head like he has to force himself to do it—but the damage has already been done.

“Idiot,” you mutter under your breath, and you mean it in every sense of the word.

And it’s so unexpected (and so damn true) that it wrests a laugh from Hyunjin’s lips, the sound every bit as light as it is dark. The bittersweet smile that it leaves behind on his face mirrors helplessly onto your own.

You don’t say another word to each other for the rest of the drive.

The sun has risen by the time Hyunjin pulls up to the curb of the international terminal, but there’s hardly anybody around at this time of day, so he doesn’t mask up before stepping out of the car. He places your suitcases in front of you, then holds up a finger as a silent gesture of wait right there—and he dashes up the curb, beelines towards the line of trolleys, and pulls one over.

You feel a helpless warmth in your fingertips as you haul your suitcases onto the metal platform together. Even now, he’s taking care of you, as thoughtlessly and naturally as respiring.

“Is that everything?”

“I think so.”

And the two of you find yourselves two feet apart and facing each other, examining your counterparts as if the answer of what the fuck to say now lies in the curves of their cheeks, in the purse of their lips.

But all you obtain from looking at Hyunjin is a glimpse of that wicked entity again, yearning, now in the form of eyes softened by the sunrise and lips parted by forbidden words, sitting readily on the tip of his tongue.

You feel a deep, hollow sadness within you, derived from knowing and hating that no amount of yearning will change the reality that he’s not yours anymore.

“Have a great trip,” Hyunjin says at last. “Be safe, okay?”

“I will,” you answer. “Thank you again. Get some rest today.”

Your arms move to push your trolley, but not before they nearly twitch in his direction with how much you want to hug him goodbye. The last thing you see before turning around is his hand in the air, and then you enter the airport, wondering vaguely if you will ever see him again.

You're in a bit of a numb state as you check in your bags and step into the line for security. The last hour has left you feeling like your heart and mind have filled with static—the kind that shows up when there are too many television signals in the air, all of them unintelligible and amorphous.

But then there is a shout of your name behind you, so urgent that the familiar voice cracks over the last syllable, like bone breaking upon boulder. You turn around.

The white noise clears.

The soles of Hyunjin’s sneakers echo as he runs across the mostly-empty airport; his hood has been knocked down and his long hair set free, combed backward by the wind; there are other eyes on him, but he is only looking at you, something else burning in his gaze now, something certain and familiar.

You move your suitcases aside and extend your arms, your pulse racing with anticipation—just in time for him to positively crash into you. He very well could have hurt you with how quickly he’s moved toward you, but the very instant his skin meets yours, he’s gathering you so tightly and securely in his arms that he cushions his own fall, costing you only of the breath in your lungs.

And the two of you fuse together like a cosmic collision, imperfect but quintessential. The moon’s craters themselves.

He knots one hand in your hair and cradles the back of your neck with the other; you form fists around the fabric of his hoodie, your face disappearing into the junction of his neck and shoulder. And you feel the tears come at last: tears of relief, of regret, of remembrance.

There are a billion things Hyunjin wants to say to you then. He wants to thank you for loving him. He wants to blame you for loving him. He wants to tell you that it was all worth it for him, so long as he was once the reason that you smiled. He wants to convince you—and himself—that nothing was meant to last forever, that the two of you were destined to burn out, the same way even the biggest and brightest of heavenly bodies have shelf lives too.

But there is one train of thought that overshadows the rest. It rings louder and truer than anything he has ever known and emerges straight from the chambers of his heart.

“I—” He sounds shattered when he speaks, his voice muffled where his lips touch your skin, his words a rasp that is only audible to you. “I still—”

“I know,” you whisper, squeezing your watering eyes. “Me too.”

And you think the shaky “fuck” that leaves his lips is an apt summary of the absolute mess that the two of you have found yourselves in: entirely and obtusely enamored with the person who has proven themselves to be incompatible with your love, time and time again.

You are only willing to pull away far enough from Hyunjin so that you can look at him, his cheeks now damp with saltwater and flushed with emotion, his dreary eyes swimming with adoration and sorrow. You cradle his face with both hands, and he drops his arms to circle around your waist. His fingers lace together against the small of your back.

“It’s gonna be okay,” you murmur. You wipe at his tears with your thumbs, touch your forehead to his. “We’re gonna be okay, Hyun.”

His reply is so sad and so small that your heart feels like it’s being carved out of your chest with a blunt pocket knife. “When?”

You don’t know the answer.

You don’t know the answer when you finally go through security, the final boarding call for your flight booming through the intercom, Hyunjin’s face buried in his shaking sleeves.

You don’t know the answer when you return to Seoul a few months later, and Hyunjin is not there to give you a lift this time.

You don’t know the answer when your birthday passes and you still receive texts from Hyunjin’s parents, wishing you well, reminding you to take care of yourself. Nor do you know the answer on the birthday after that, or the birthday after that, which is when the texts stop coming.

You won’t know the answer for a very long time—so much so that you spend years of your life doubting there’s an answer at all. But you find it one day when you least expect it, and it congeals in your mind like expired milk, numbs your mouth like the strongest of anesthetics.

You have your answer then, but you don’t want it.

You never have.

🔖・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa

513 notes · View notes

hedghost · 1 year

Text

alessia russo | make you my problem

sick of her family's endless questions about her dating life, alessia invents a fake girlfriend to get them off her back. unfortunately, now she has to deal with the consequences, which means dealing with you.

(fake dating fic inspired by business by catfish and the bottlemen)

word count: 13.5k

alessia stared down at the card in her hand. her eyes flicked over the perfectly printed calligraphy for the hundredth time that day. it was the first time she'd got it out since it had been delivered three months ago, when she'd promptly piled it beneath a stack of bills on the countertop, and tried to ignore it. unfortunately, the solution hadn't magically appeared as she'd hoped it would, and the wedding was fast approaching.

she read the words again, her expression burning lasers into the paper.

formally invited... et cetera et cetera... the wedding of luca russo... so on and so forth... invites alessia russo... and there was the kicker... plus one.

to really rub salt in the wound, her brother luca had scribbled a sharpie winky face next to the last bit, obscuring the ornate lettering with a scruffy, mocking squiggle.

let it be clear, alessia enjoyed her life the way it was. she enjoyed not being tied down by the constraints of someone else, she enjoyed her own space, her independence. she'd curated her own little routines, her own little preferences, and now she was free to bask in the luxuries of single life. but still, her heart tugged a little at the card - and its implications.

when luca had asked if she'd wanted a plus one to the wedding, months ago, she'd been tempted to answer truthfully, and decline. it was the look on his face however, that teasing smirk that was always so prevalent between siblings, that changed her mind. if she said no, she'd be subject to the usual smug commentary from her brothers, both of whom were happily partnered off, and the unbearably not-so-subtle questions from her parents about her dating life. and so she did her best impression of nonchalance, waved him off with a non-committal smile, and said yes.

she had braced herself for the comments, let it wash off her back when her mum asked her if she had 'finally found someone', or when her other brother gio gave her a vastly sceptical look, like he couldn't believe she'd ever bring a date. it was fine. she was used to this.

as much as alessia loved single life, it would be a lie to say it didn't sting when she turned up to every family gathering alone, watching everyone else with their partners. it would be a lie to say the ribbing and teasing from her brothers didn't hurt a little, that it didn't play on some deep-rooted insecurity she'd tried so hard to stamp out. she told herself it was better this way, but year by year, she watched from the side-lines as all her friends seemed to find their other halves, and yet here she remained, as luca had once said; a 'lone wolf'.

so she'd said yes, when the wedding had been months away, and she had all the time in the world to find a date. now, the wedding was a week away, and here she was. glaring daggers into a wedding invite, very much dateless.

her phone vibrated against the counter, where she'd dropped it unceremoniously after coming in from her match. it was undoubtedly luca again, who had been trying to call her all day. she knew exactly why he was calling. alessia considered declining the call, but she knew her brother would be persistent.

"hey luca," she sighed into the phone, leaning her head against the cupboard.

"less, hi! great game today!"

"thanks," she murmured. her head was beginning to hurt, and she was unsure if it was from the bone-deep exhaustion she felt, or the looming threat of showing up alone to the wedding.

"hey listen, i just wanted to ask you about the-"

"-the wedding, yeah i know," alessia racked her brain for a way out of this conversation, but came up short.

"okay cool, just because you never responded to my texts about your date, and i need to know if you're actually bringing one," luca paused, a muffled noise coming from the other end of the line. alessia assumed he was talking to his fiancée. luca spoke again, voice slightly softer, but still a little harried. "if you aren't that's alright, we just need to know like, right now. if it were anyone else i'd say it's too late to change stuff but since it's you, i'll let you off,"

alessia hesitated. she could tell him the truth. she really should tell him the truth. luca had just given her an out, perfectly plated up for her.

and yet, irritation stirred inside her. luca seemed so sure, so certain that she didn't have a date. she couldn't bear the thought of proving him right. she could already hear gio's remarks, see his smug smile. her mum's overly sympathetic expression flashed in her mind, not for the first time.

alessia loved her brothers, really she did. but that's not to say that, like most siblings, they couldn't be really, fucking annoying. honestly, most things alessia did in life were to spite them. even football, which at first had been her way of joining in with her cool, older brothers, soon became a way to show them up, to prove that anything they could do, she could wipe the floor with them at. alessia made her decision.

"no, it's fine, i'm bringing someone,"

"wait, what?" luca's shock was evident in his voice. alessia gritted her teeth.

"i'm dating someone,"

"seriously?" luca now seemed to be scrambling for what to say, clearly having not expected this answer. "oh, yeah, cool, well, in that case, we need to know his name for the seating charts and stuff,"

alessia cringed. both at luca's assumption of gender, and at the trap she'd just laid for herself. this was a very stupid idea.

"her name," she corrected, on instinct.

god, what was wrong with her? why couldn't she stop talking?

"oh! right sorry- good for you less. we need her name then,"

fuck. what was she doing? alessia had dug herself into a hole of epic proportions, and she really hadn't thought this far ahead. in all honestly, she hadn't really thought at all.

she couldn't back out now though. alessia racked her brain for potential fake suitors, someone she could convince to accompany her for the evening, someone who would raise very little questions. she considered ella, but alessia's family all knew she had a boyfriend. millie, maybe? god knows millie had a thing for dating footballers, but alessia also knew she was awful at keeping her mouth shut. she could try katie, but her brothers had met her on many occasions, they wouldn't believe it for a second. no, it needed to be someone her brothers didn't know well, someone who it would be very easy to erase from her family's memory once the night was over.

alessia felt her mouth move before she had the time to process what she was even saying. the regret was instant, but the words were out before she could swallow them.

"y/n,"

"wait, from united? y/n y/l/n?"

shit. shit, this was bad. of all the players, why had she unconsciously said your name. alessia swallowed hard, closing her eyes and wincing as she nodded to herself.

"yes,"

"oh shit, i didn't even know you guys were close,"

exactly, cursed alessia to herself, we aren't.

"its pretty recent," alessia said instead. god, this was bad. this was so, so bad.

"okay, does she have any food allergies or anything?"

as if alessia had any idea. she'd had maybe five conversations with you in total, and every single one had been utterly infuriating. why she'd said your name was a mystery, and one she was majorly regretting already.

"uh, i don't think so, i'll double check tomorrow," alessia winced as she spoke, very glad this conversation was not face to face.

"well, can you text her now?"

no, alessia thought, i cannot. she didn't even have your number.

"sure," alessia needed to end the call before she said something else she'd regret, "okay luca, i have to go, i'll speak to you later okay?"

"what less no! you just dropped a bomb that you're finally seeing someone, and you're just going to hang up without telling me a thing?"

"yes, i am. goodnight luca,"

after hanging up, alessia borderline threw her phone across the room. she collapsed into a chair, dragging her hands over her face.

"what the fuck have i just done?"

---

alessia woke up the next day, feeling entirely unrefreshed, and unresolved. she'd hoped to sleep on her options after her disastrous claims to luca last night, but the stress of it all meant she barely slept full stop.

at least she had the day off from training. the thought of facing you right now was honestly sickening. not for the first time, alessia cursed herself for saying your name. why she hadn't chosen someone she was actually friends with - someone who would actually go along with her ridiculous lie - was beyond her.

it wasn't that alessia didn't like you, per se, but the two of you had just never seemed to click. since your transfer at the start of the season, you'd become fast friends with pretty much all of the girls, except alessia. honestly, it had killed her at first. alessia prided herself on being likeable, on being able to get on with most people, but for some reason, it was like there was an invisible barrier between the two of you. okay, yeah maybe alessia just didn't like you.

alessia had tried to initiate conversations, but you'd respond with a standoffish comment, or a blunt joke that just didn't seem to land with her. everyone else would laugh, but alessia would find herself awkwardly drawing a blank on what to do or say. the few times you did speak, alessia just found herself getting irritated with you, with the way you seemed to constantly be mocking or teasing her for something, the way you always left her feeling frustrated, and flustered. she assumed you had some sort of vendetta agaisnt her, although she could never quite pinpoint what, or why.

she'd never really had to try to get people to like her before, never really had to force conversation, and for once in her life she hadn't known how to interact with someone.

and so, rather than try, she'd kind of just accepted it. if you didn't like her, if you had some sort of problem with her, then she'd just leave you alone. and so she had. you interacted in a purely surface level manner, as teammates - and no one could deny you were an attacking double act to be reckoned with on the pitch - but that was about as far as it went.

her musing was interrupted by a rather heavy pounding on the door of her flat. she dragged herself out of bed, expecting the postman, but instead was greeted by a very excited ella.

"why didn't you tell me?" ella said immediately, barging past alessia into the flat with the force of a bull on steroids. her eyes widened and she began to look around frantically. "oh my god, is she here?" alessia rubbed the sleep from her eyes. she was not awake enough for whatever this was.

"el, i- what?"

"y/n? is she here?" ella turned to look at alessia, honest-to-god beaming at her. "i can't believe you didn't tell me!"

finally, alessia's brain caught up with ella's tirade. right, y/n.

"you spoke to luca," it wasn't a question. ella didn't seem to notice alessia's sour mood, instead moving to look in alessia's bedroom, as if for some damned reason you'd be in there, god forbid.

alessia weighed her options carefully. on the one hand, she couldn't lie to ella. she'd be found out almost immediately. plus, once ella was involved, that meant the whole team was. it was one thing to lie to her family for one evening, but to lie to the whole team, who she spent hours each day in close contact with, was a whole other kettle of fish. of course, this was all assuming alessia actually spoke to you, and by some miracle, convinced you to keep up the lie. this of course would never happen, since alessia was still pretty sure you hated her.

alternatively, and probably the best idea, she could tell ella the truth. ella might even be able to help her out, set her up with a date or something. it crossed her mind that you were friends with ella, and maybe she'd be able to get you to help alessia out. she dismissed that idea pretty quickly.

"ella, listen-" she began, but ella cut her off immediately.

"oh, less i'm so happy for you guys, i knew you would be so great together!"

alessia was a little taken aback. the thought that ella had seen her interact with you, and somehow come to that conclusion, was honestly baffling. in alessia's shock, ella continued on, " i never understood why you never seemed to get on with her, because you know, she's literally the best, but now it all makes sense!"

"it...does?" alessia didn't really know what to say. she absolutely hadn't expected this reaction.

"you were being shy because you had a crush!" ella exclaimed, as though she'd come to an obvious conclusion. "fuck's sake less, you should've just told me you liked her, i could have set you guys up so much sooner-" alessia barely knew how to respond, she just knew she had to stop this before ella went any further.

"no, that's not-"

"aw less, this is so cute! i can't wait to tell everyone else!" that snapped alessia back to reality.

"no! i mean, please don't,"

"why not?" ella looked at alessia, eyes questioning. she needed to confess, to tell ella the truth before it spiralled. this was already getting out of hand and alessia needed to put it to bed, right now.

"we-uh- we aren't telling people yet. its pretty recent,"

oops.

"oh right, yeah totally less," ella nodded solemnly, and gave alessia a reassuring smile. she tried to return it, but she couldn't muster much more than a grimace, "okay, well, i only stopped by to ask you about it, but i'll see you tomorrow yeah?"

alessia only nodded, watching helplessly after ella as she disappeared down the corridor. she'd really gone and fucked it now.

---

she spent the rest of the day contemplating her options, but unsurprisingly, found no easy way out. she refused point blank to admit to luca it was a lie, espescially now that ella was involved, which meant only one thing. she had to ask for your help. alessia felt honestly ill at just the thought of speaking to you, but she resigned herself to it - it was the only option. it was one night, a single wedding. all she had to do was get on her knees and beg, put up with one night of your infuriating company, then endure a lifetime of embarassment from you. super easy.

ella's earlier words remained in the forefront of her mind. alessia knew that it would only be a matter of time before the whole team discovered the 'news', which meant she had to get to you before they did. she considered messaging you on instagram, but her finger hovered over the button, unable to move.

no, she thought, after opening your profile for the hundredth time. this was the kind of conversation you had face-to-face. although not that alessia had ever had to have this ridiculous conversation before. besides, surely it was best to leave no paper trail.

----

alessia had virtually no sleep for the second night in a row, sleeping though her alarm and therefore ensuing on a mad rush to get to the training ground in time. by the time she arrived, she was practically vibrating; a combination of nervous energy and the coffee she'd downed as she ran out her door.

alessia arrived at the ground in time for the morning meeting, which she listened to approximately none of, hyper-aware of your presence on the other side of the room. finally marc finished speaking, and she stood to try and catch you.

"y/n?" she called, voice borderline desperate. you turned to look at her, as did ona and aoife, who you'd been mid-conversation with. you didn't say anything, just looked into alessia's eyes expectantly. realising she had the attention of a quarter of the room, it occurred to her that now was not the best time to do this. alessia's voice trailed off, and she took a step back.

"uh, nothing," alessia mumbled, and you smirked a little. she gritted her teeth in annoyance, and walked in the opposite direction, just desperate to be anywhere but here, caught like a deer in your headlights. she decided to give it an hour, then catch you alone.

alessia lasted all of 15 minutes before the anxiety got too much, and she took off in search of you. she was so preoccupied that she didn't even see ella coming the other way. she barely even registered the collision, just questioning her on your whereabouts immediately.

"hey, have you seen y/n?"

ella raised her eyebrow, a shit-eating grin plastered onto her face within seconds. alessia rolled her eyes impatiently, knowing exactly where ella's mind had gone. god this was unbearable.

"not for that, i need to speak to her," alessia was getting anxious now, just desperate for this whole thing to be over, and ella's suggestive looks weren't helping in the least. ella seemed to notice when her breath picked up.

"you good, less?"

"can you please just tell me where y/n is?"

"i think she went towards the gym," ella calmed down, sensing alessia was in some distress. alessia took off without a second glance, trying her best to calm her shaking hands. this was fine. she just had to kindly explain, and then beg for you to help. maybe even offer you a hefty bribe or something, and just pray you didn't bite her head off.

alessia was so lost in her head as she marched towards the gym that she didn't notice you waiting for her in the corridor. she wasn't proud of the surprised yelp she let out when you grabbed her hand and pulled her, rather unceremoniously, into a storage cupboard.

"why have i just had someone tell me we're dating?"

fuck, thought alessia. this was not how this conversation was meant to go. she tried to speak, to explain, but, as usual when she was around you, she couldn't seem to get the words out. she blushed, stuttering around excuses.

"hello?" you smirked, clearly amused at alessia's panic. she looked up, meeting those dark eyes to find a hint of laughter. alessia blinked, her breath catching. the amusement in your eyes seemed to fade a little, and if alessia didn't know better, she might have recognised the faint concern laced underneath. "you good?"

"fuck, its my fault - i, i'm so sorry, i-"

"woah, alright, calm down," you reached out a lithe hand, hesitantly placing it on her shoulder.

alessia felt her face heating up, wishing desperately the ground would swallow her whole. it was now or never. she could feel your eyes boring into her, waiting for an explanation. she steeled herself, and let everything fall out in one mortified breath.

"i told my brother i had a girlfriend so he'd get off my back about my date to his wedding, only then he started asking questions so i panicked and said your name," the explanation is rushed, and you have to lean in to decipher exactly what alessia is muttering. she pauses, humiliation halting the next part.

"and then he told ella, who told everyone, so now the whole team thinks we're together, and also my family are expecting me to bring you to the wedding on sunday," her voice trails off.

you let out a laugh, a little taken aback by the comedy of the whole situation. alessia looked down at her feet, playing with the fingers nervously. you could feel the embarrassment practically radiating form her in waves. you felt a little bad. alessia stood in front of you, clearly stressed about this wedding for some reason, so much so she's caught herself up in a lie. a lie involving you, no less, who she seemed to hate, for some reason unbeknownst to you.

fuck it, you thought. you shrugged a little.

"alright," you said simply. alessia snapped her head up so fast you were surprised she didn't get whiplash.

"what?"

"alright. i'll help you out,"

"you- you'll what?"

"i'll help," you shrugged again, keeping your replies deliberately blasé, just to make alessia squirm a little. she was surprisingly easy to stress out, and it was fairly entertaining. "i don't have plans on sunday anyway,"

"you'll come to the wedding?" you nodded, "as my date?" you nodded again. alessia sounded confused, and a little sceptical. she was wary, you realised, expecting a trap, or some sort of condition. "seriously? i'll do anything you want,"

you smirked a little at the tail end of her statement. you were telling the truth; you were free on sunday, and honestly you'd been looking for a chance to break through to alessia for a while now, since she seemed to want absolutely nothing to do with you. you honestly would've done it just to be nice, but her words gave you an idea.

"anything i want?" you could tell alessia instantly regretted saying that. you'd caught her in a very desperate position. she nodded hesitantly. "okay, two conditions," alessia's eyes snapped back to yours, immediately on edge, "one, you give me some shooting practice," alessia interrupted you.

"what?"

"you heard me." you said simply, shrugging again, "i need to work on my shooting, you're our best striker. i want you to help me,"

it was true. you'd admired alessia as a player for a while now, and had hoped that coming to manchester would allow you to learn from her. you were an excellent midfielder, known for your creative play and chance creation, but despite all your ball control and technical skills, you had only scored a handful of times in your career.

despite your hopes however, alessia had never really let you in. while you made fast friends with everyone else, she had clammed up whenever you tried to talk to her. a few times she'd initiated conversation, and as soon as you'd give her a trademark witty comment back, she'd end the interaction, leaving you wondering what the hell you'd done to offend her. it'd been a disappointment, but you'd gotten over it, settling in with the rest of the team and ignoring alessia's subtle glares in your direction. now however, it was you in a position of leverage. maybe you could get something out of this too.

"okay, sure," she nodded, "what's the second thing?"

"stop acting so weird around me,"

alessia spluttered. her earlier embarrassment paved way for only pure indignation.

"i act weird? the fuck does that mean? you're the one who's always either brushing me off, or being a dick whenever i try and speak to you!"

"when have i ever brushed you off? i try to talk to you and you just forget how to speak or something, and then you walk off with a stick up your arse," you smirked, watching as alessia got increasingly frustrated.

"yeah, because you say stuff that doesn't make any sense, like how am i meant to respond to half the shit you say? or you say stuff just to piss me off! that's a pretty clear sign that someone doesn't like you, y/n!"

"i've never once acted like i didn't like you - it's called making a joke, alessia," you said, purposefully emphasising her name, "no one else has a problem with it, i'm just trying to make conversation with you,"

"why do you have to be so frustrating? it's like you have to win every conversation!" alessia cried indignantly. you took a small step forward, meeting her eyes with yours. alessia unconsciously stepped back, but she was already pressed up against the shelves of the small storage cupboard.

"maybe you're just very easy to frustrate, alessia," you said softly, lowering your voice, "maybe you should work on that,"

alessia had no response, only clenching her jaw and rolling her eyes. you stepped back, noticing how her shoulders dropped ever so slightly. you placed a hand on the handle to leave, but before you opened it, you turned back to alessia, meeting her eyes with a smirk.

"send me your address - i'm coming over later," when alessia opened her mouth to protest, you cut her off, "unless you don't want my help after all?" you raised a single eyebrow and alessia sighed.

"yeah, okay. fine,"

"bye," you turned and stalked out the cupboard, stopping at the door once more to look alessia dead in the eye, shit-eating grin plastered on your face, "babe,"

----

"so what exactly was your plan if i didn't say yes?"

"well technically i never asked for your help," alessia grumbled.

"you would've. i was just putting you out of your misery by offering first,"

"you don't know that. anyway, my plan was to maybe run away to mexico,"

"maybe you'd meet a date there,"

alessia huffed from her position on her sofa. god you were infuriating. it had only been a few hours of this charade, and you were already getting under her skin. alessia was starting to think that public humiliation courtesy of her brothers would have been the better option.

"at least then i wouldn't have to deal with you," alessia mumbled.

"oh but you were just starting to like me! look, you're using full sentences when you speak to me and everything!"

"get fucked," alessia said. you were right; at least now she was capable of holding a conversation with you. unfortunately, this graduation meant alessia now had to deal with a lot more of your infuriating personality.

you'd shown up at her flat almost immediately after training, leaving alessia to scramble to try and make the place presentable. now here you were, reclining lazily in her living room, an invasive species taking root in her safe space, and giving very unhelpful suggestions about how to fake a relationship.

"i'm thinking we say you fell madly in love with me at first sight and then-"

"we don't need to say anything!"

"no one is going to believe we're together if we don't even have a backstory, alessia!" you were enjoying this far too much, she could tell. "that might work for your uncles or something, but if you think the girls won't want every juicy detail you are sorely mistaken,"

alessia buried her face in her hands, not for the first time that evening. she felt the familiar rising of panic in her chest, tried to drown out your constant talking, and calm down. this was becoming way too much.

"what the fuck am i doing?" she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut. you paused, and alessia braced herself for another round of teasing from you.

instead, she jumped when she felt your hand on her shoulder. your touch was firm, but grounding, and not at all what alessia had been expecting.

"you alright?"

alessia shook her head, trying to control her breathing and prevent the oncoming spiral. she felt you move to sit next to her, jolting a little as she felt the brush of your thigh against hers. it suddenly occurred to her that she hadn't been this close to, well, anyone, in a very long time. she didn't dare look up.

"this was so stupid, i never should have gotten you involved," her voice was small, embarrassed, "i'm sorry, you don't have to stay,"

"can i ask you something?," you said, and alessia nodded hesitantly.

"why do you care so much? why lie at all?"

alessia sighed. normally, she would have her guard straight back up, but she'd done an awful lot of lying recently, and she was getting very tired.

"i just- i like being single, i honestly do, but, i'm just sick of people going on about it. every single time, its all 'when are you getting a boyfriend, alessia' or 'less, let me set you up with my friend'. it's my mum giving me these pitying looks when my brothers are with their girlfriends and i'm on my own, again,"

she was rambling now, gesticulating wildly as everything that had been building up inside her came out in a rant of emotion. you placed your hand gently on her thigh, and alessia jumped, but continued on, "it's my brothers constantly taking the piss, like they can't believe i could ever find someone. you should have heard how shocked luca was when i said i was seeing someone! and i'm fine on my own, really i am, but when i hear that, it just pisses me off and so i just said it to prove him wrong. even though he isn't wrong, at all,"

alessia stopped, breathing a little hard. she felt a tear prick at the corner of her eye, and willed herself to calm down. she'd already said far too much to you, didn't want to give you any more ammunition than she already had. she winced in anticipation of your teasing remarks, but none came.

"that makes sense. that would get to me too," you didn't move your hand. alessia shook her head.

"i'm sorry for dragging you into this, we should just forget this ever happened,"

"if you really want me to go, i will," you said, "but i want to help,"

"i can't ask you to do this, it's so dumb,"

"you didn't ask remember? i offered," you nudged her shoulder, and she let out a choked laugh despite herself.

"come on," you nudged her again, "i'm not really that bad, am i?,"

alessia shook her head, her gaze fixed on where your hand still rested on her thigh, your fingers absentmindedly stroking her leg. begrudgingly, she had to agree. maybe she'd underestimated you.

"okay," she nodded, finally looking up at you, "let's fake date,"

you smiled, and moved away slightly. alessia felt an unfamiliar twinge at the loss of contact.

"by the way, you're going to have to stop blushing every time i touch you,"

alessia almost choked, her face heating up even more, "i'm not!"

you just shrugged, that familiar teasing smirk returning.

"whatever you say, babygirl,"

alessia just rolled her eyes.

"okay, so what's the plan?" you said, making your way over to the kitchen. you began to root through alessia's cupboards, "why have you not got any real food in here?"

"i have real food-"

"no, this is just like, oats and stuff,"

"it's ingredients. stop going through my cupboards,"

"fine, i'll order food. what do you want?"

alessia just stared at you, utterly baffled. why you were acting as though this was a perfectly normal occurrence, for you to be stood in her kitchen as though it was your own, for you to be ordering her dinner, she had no clue. you stared back, clearly waiting for an answer.

"um, whatever you like," alessia gave in, still looking at you incredulously. you just hummed, and reached in her cupboard for a glass. alessia could only wonder how you even knew where the glasses were.

---

you'd agreed that the best course of action would be to take it slow, ease people into the idea of your relationship. admittedly, no one had ever seen you interact at training, so they were unlikely to believe a sudden 180 in behaviour. the both of you were fairly private people, so it wasn't like the others would be expecting you to launch out the pda immediately. a few gentle touches here and there, a couple whispered conversations, that was all you needed.

alessia didn't walk out to training with you, but the two of you made sure to stand next to each other where possible. you placed a hand on the small of her back when you saw ella eyeing the two of you suspiciously, only removing it when you saw her start whispering to millie. job done.

while you seemed to be playing your part with ease, alessia thrummed with nerves. she flinched when she felt you touch her back, and she swallowed at the spike of electricity it sent down her spine. alessia waited for you to remove it, but you only let it rest there. she breathed into the touch, relaxing enough to remember the plan. she gave you a performative smile, trying to school her features into those of a loving girlfriend, and you grinned.

“try it without looking like you’re in pain next time,” you whispered with a smirk, before running off to receive the ball. alessia stared after you, clenching her jaw in annoyance. this was going to be a long few days.

alessia turned her attention back to the drill, managing a successful twenty minutes without any you-shaped irritation. then the coaches called for you to partner up, and her luck ran out. she sighed as you came bounding over to her, grinning ear to ear like a love-sick puppy.

the two of you queued up, listening intently to the instructions. or rather, you listened. alessia could only focus on your hand, which had snaked its way around her waist and was tracing light shapes into her hipbone.

she was brought back to earth by the shout of her name. you laughed and nudged her,

“it’s your turn,” you smirked. alessia swallowed, realising she had no clue what she was meant to be doing.

“alessia! were you not paying attention?” the coach yelled from the sidelines. ella chose that moment to chime in.

“she was paying attention to someone else coach!”

millie wolf-whistled in response. alessia buried her head in her hands, feeling her face heat up. sensing her panic, you quickly pointed out what she was meant to be doing. alessia muttered a quick apology, running to take her turn.

she rounded on you as soon as training finished.

“what the fuck was that?”

“i should be asking you that!” you laughed. “careful alessia, anyone would think you were actually into me,”

the icy glare she sent your way could’ve frozen fire, but you just smirked.

“it’s not funny, you fucked up my whole training session,”

“i’m sorry! i didn’t realise little old me would distract you so much,”

“just don’t pull that shit tomorrow, alright?” alessia borderline spat, before turning on her heel and stalking away. you chased her down with a shout.

“hey, where are you going? you said you’d help with the shooting!”

fuck, you’d had alessia so riled up, she had entirely forgotten. she knew she needed to keep her promise, or risk losing your help, but the thought of spending another moment in your vicinity drove her insane. she needed to go home and calm down.

“after that stunt you pulled? we'll see about it tomorrow, alright?”

you thought about arguing, but seeing how hot and bothered alessia was, you decided not to risk annoying her anymore. you honestly didn’t know what her problem was - she’d asked for your help, hadn’t she? you nodded begrudgingly, watching after her as she walked to her car.

clearly, alessia was stressed, whether about the wedding or something deeper, you weren’t sure. as much as you enjoyed teasing her, you felt a little guilty about her reaction. you really hadn’t intended to distract her, but you’d seen how some of the girls were shooting sceptical glances at the two of you, and knew you needed to keep alessia’s cover. you resolved to be a little nicer tomorrow, hoping it might make alessia warm up to you somewhat.

back in her flat, alessia stared down at the invitation once again. there was no way all this was worth it, and she ran a hand raggedly down her face.

there was something about you, that was just so infuriating. the more you two were speaking, alessia just found herself increasingly frustrated. she’d previously pinned the emotion down to annoyance and irritation, but the longer it went on, she was starting to feel more flustered than anything. you always seemed to have the upper hand, and alessia was left stuttering to keep up. it was as if her brain just stopped functioning every time you so much as looked at her, or brushed her arm. it was extremely annoying.

alessia allowed herself a few moments to air her grievances, before dragging herself into the shower. she turned the temperature to cool, and tried to forget the sensation of your hand around her waist.

—-

the next day, training ran without a hitch. you made sure to fasten yourself to alessia’s side occasionally, but kept the touches and teasing to a minimum.

expecting a repeat of your antics from the previous day, alessia had showed up to training on edge. it seemed, however, that you were intent on keeping your word. it was an adjustment, getting used to your constant presence, but alessia found that without the constant teasing, she didn't mind too much. eventually, she relaxed into the familiarity of usual training, feeling more herself than she had all week.

without alessia to annoy, you'd turned your attention to light-hearted jokes at the other girls' expense. now that she was out from your spotlight, alessia found herself laughing along with the team. begrudgingly, she could see the funny side. maybe she was starting to see why everyone else liked you.

training finished, and alessia made her way over to where you stood chatting to the others. gaining a bolt of confidence, she snaked her arm around your waist. you jolted a bit at the unexpected contact. ever quick to recover, you flashed her a winning smile. she pressed herself deeper into your side.

"ready to go babe?" you asked, slinging a lazy arm around her shoulders. you didn't want to annoy alessia, not after you'd kept yourself in her good books all day, but you were increasingly aware of everyone else's eyes fastened on the two of you. alessia turned to look at you, all big blue eyes and smiling dimples. you wondered if she'd taken acting lessons since yesterday.

"i thought we could stay for some shooting practice?" she said sweetly. your eyes widened a little, pleasantly surprised she was going to hold up her end of the deal after all. you nodded, losing your words for a second. it was a little hard to think when she was looking at you like that.

"oh, uh, yeah- sounds good,"

alessia waved bye to the others, before she practically sauntered over to the goal. you watched, a little dumbfounded. clearly she was pleased with herself for having caught you off guard. after a beat, you said your goodbyes and jogged to catch her up, chuckling a little.

"so where do we start?"

"well, why don't we just run a few shots and we'll see where we go from there?"

you nodded and turned to grab a ball from the ball bag. it wasn't not unusual for players to stay after training, so most of the equipment had been left out. you glanced up to say something, but found alessia had disappeared.

"wh-?" you cut yourself off with a laugh when you spotted her grappling with a training mannequin on the far side of the field. as you watched her try to drag it over, she somehow managed to rather ungracefully trip over her own feet.

alessia swore, but looked up when she heard your bright laugh.

"oh shut up! just help me put this in the goal," she grumbled. you hoped you hadn't mistaken the hint of a smile in her voice.

"how are you so fucking clumsy?" you teased, lifting up the mannequin with ease. alessia followed as you walked to the goal, choosing not to answer. you placed it down. "here okay?"

alessia stepped back to judge the positioning. you couldn't deny she looked a little cute; hands on hips, head tilted, nose scrunched up in thought. you were broken from your musing as she stepped forward, dragging the mannequin a little to the left.

"hmm, a little more this way,"

"don't fall over it this time,"

"oh fuck off. so annoying," she mumbled, although the smile that appeared on her face betrayed her lack of annoyance. small wins, you thought.

the two of you began taking shots, alessia feeding them in as you whacked them into the net from distance. although you could often find the back of the net, your accuracy wasn't the best. you groaned after you failed to hit the top right for the third time.

"right, okay, i think i know what you're doing wrong," alessia said, as she fished the balls out the net. "you just need to position your body a little differently. here watch me,"

you fed a perfect pass into her - at least you had no problem with assists - and she struck the ball perfectly into the top corner.

"like this?" you said, trying to mimic the way she leant over the ball. alessia frowned.

"hmm, no, like-" she paused, clearly hesitating on her next move. the pause didn't last long though, as she planted her hands on your waist and physically manoeuvred you.

"so you want to move away from the defender like this," she swivelled your hips slightly, "and then, when you hit the ball, you want to sort of do this," she kept one hand on your waist, moving the other to your torso and guiding you through the motion. you tried to take in her words, but you could only focus on her body as it pressed up against yours. you nodded, suddenly a little flustered, but alessia didn't take her hands away.

alessia wasn't really thinking when she decided to touch you, but as she positioned your body, her thoughts drifted. your torso was firm underneath her hand, she noted, and her fingers slotted so neatly into the curve of your waist. her words trailed off, hands lingering a second too long.

alessia jolted as she realised where she was. she let go quickly, a little flustered. god, what was going on with her.

"um, yeah, try that," she said, taking another step back. she felt her face flush, but thankfully, you didn't turn to look at her.

trying to ignore alessia's lingering touch, and its subsequent quick departure, you geared up to take the shot. you tried to mimic what she'd done, and you grinned as the ball found its target.

"yes! that was it!" called alessia from where she stood, "now, let's run about a hundred more,"

when you finally walked off the training pitch together, you were pleasantly surprised by your progress. alessia was a good coach, now that she was actually acknowledging you. you looked over at her as she walked beside you.

the sun was setting by now, casting alessia in a warm orange glow. a piece of her hair had come loose from her braid. you wanted to thank her, but found you didn't want to break the comfortable silence engulfing the two of you.

alessia kept step beside you, contemplating her own sudden change of heart. now that she knew you a little better, the teasing remarks no longer spun her off kilter, and she found she was more amused than annoyed.

"i was thinking maybe i could come over tomorrow after training? to sort out plans for sunday and that?" she asked, turning to look at you.

"yeah sure, what time?" you said absentmindedly, lifting your shirt a little to wipe your face. despite the cool summer evening air, you'd managed to work up a sweat. alessia couldn't help the way her eyes drifted down to your exposed torso. she swallowed.

"alessia?" you prompted, turning to look at her when she didn't answer. she averted her eyes back to your face, before quickly looking away again when she made eye contact.

"oh, um, 7?"

"sounds good, i can make dinner?"

"should i be worried?" alessia smirked, recovering herself a little. jesus, she was all over the place lately. she tried to reassure herself it was just the stress of the impending wedding, pushing down the voice at the back of her head.

"fuck you, i'm a great cook,"

"i'll be the judge of that,"

---

alessia rocked band and forth on her heels as she waited outside your building. she contemplated checking the address yet again, but settled on messaging a simple i'm outside. luckily, it turned out you lived pretty close to her, so she had walked, the weather only a light summer drizzle.

training had run smoothly once again, with the two of you settling into the act comfortably. the nature of your job meant you were at liberty to keep it lowkey and professional, only having to share the occasional sly touch or whispered comment to maintain the facade. some of the others had finally given in to temptation and pressed you both for details. alessia had momentarily faltered, but was saved by you stepping in to proudly regale your concocted story. all she'd had to do was nod and smile in all the right places, content to sit back and eat her lunch while you took the reins. after everyone had left, you'd flashed her a smirk, and whispered "hook, line and sinker". then you'd ruined the moment by mocking her outfit, but she could forgive you for that.

alessia's careful musing on the day was interrupted by you bounding down the staircase. you threw the door open and beckoned her in.

"lift's broken so we have to take the stairs," you said, already making your way up, "try not to fall down them,"

"i'm not that clumsy,"

"could've fooled me," you shrugged.

thankfully alessia managed to keep her footing on all four flights, only nearly dropping her keys once. she hoped you didn't see that.

"okay, so i was thinking, for the wedding, we ne-"

"jesus, straight to the point, huh?"

"well, i was just-"

"you've literally just come through the door, we'll talk about it over tea,"

"stop interrupting me," alessia huffed, placing her bag down on the coffee table, "but fine,"

you made your way back to the kitchen area, and alessia took the chance to take in your open-plan flat. it was nice, she conceded, spacious but homely, decorated eclectically but well. she wasn't sure why she was shocked, as though she'd been expecting you to live in a cave or something.

she turned to join you in the kitchen, where you seemed to be plating up dinner already. alessia offered to help, but you waved her off, telling her to sit down.

"i didn't know you could cook," alessia said as the two of you ate. you hummed, shrugging slightly.

"you don't really know anything about me," you replied simply. for the first time, alessia felt a pang of guilt at not giving you a chance sooner. it was true - she could tell you any number of facts about the rest of the team, but she wouldn't even know where to start with you.

"well no but, i can learn," she said. you looked a little shocked by her words. alessia felt another stab of guilt.

"so, the wedding?" you prompted, eager to change the subject, "what's the plan?"

alessia began to run you through the itinerary, rambling a little. in her stress over the whole thing, she had managed to commit every little detail to memory. she wanted the day to run pefect for luca and his fiancee of course, but she also now had to contemplate bringing you into the midst.

"to be honest, you don't have to come to the ceremony if you don't want to," she added, noticing your wide eyes as you tried to take it all in.

"well, are your family expecting me to be there?"

"um, well yeah, but-" alessia trailed off. her earlier guilt at not being close to you had now morphed into an all encompassing guilt for dragging you into this whole thing.

"do you want me to be there?"

alessia faltered. despite all her planning, she hadn't really considered that. if you'd asked her at the start of the week, it would have been a resounding no, but as she mulled it over, she found that, actually, just maybe, she potentially did.

"um, yeah, i think i do actually,"

"cool, then i'll be there," you shrugged, and alessia nodded.

"so, i'm meant to be getting ready with my mum, but then we can pick you up on the way to the church?"

"i can meet you there if that's easier? less hassle for you guys, plus it might save us any awkward questions from your mum?"

"i mean, its a good idea, but to be honest i think you'll get questions no matter what. it's not a problem - you're on our way anyway," alessia said, and you nodded.

it was a nice change, seeing you like this. the way you seemed genuinely eager to help, making thoughtful suggestions rather than immature ones. the two of you sat at the table long after you'd finished eating, discussing the plan and making sure your story was airtight.

"personally i still think we should tell everyone you pined after me for months," just like that, your teasing suggestions were back, but alessia no longer found herself bothered by them.

"we're absolutely not saying that,"

"oh come on, you know you're obsessed with me,"

"so obsessed it hurts," alessia mimed an arrow to the chest, and you grinned. she felt a small sense of pride at making you laugh. it was a little unnerving. she turned her attention to more pressing matters.

"you do have something to wear right? i can lend you a dress,"

"a dress? absolutely not," you smirked, "don't worry, i've got it covered - what colour is yours?"

"why?"

"so we don't clash, duh,"

"oh," alessia still felt wary, "its like a navy blue, here i'll show you," she pulled out her phone to find the dress. you gave an appreciative look.

"yeah, i've got a suit that will go well with that,"

"i feel like you're going to show up in something stupid - should i be worried? i am worried,"

you stood up to clear the plates, whacking her shoulder playfully.

"do you need to be going?" you asked over your shoulder as you washed up, "i know it's a late kick off tomorrow, but don't feel obliged to stay if you want to get home,"

in all honesty, alessia didn't want to go just yet. she wasn't too worried about the match, it being an evening home game they were tipped to win, and she still wanted to iron out a few more things for sunday. besides, it was nice to not spend yet another evening alone in her flat.

"i don't, unless you want me to go?" the hesitance that crept into her tone was unbidden.

"nah i'm good. stay," you walked to the fridge and pulled it open, searching for something, "normally i'd offer you wine, but maybe not the best idea before a match," you held out a can of pepsi triumphantly, before collapsing onto the sofa beside alessia.

"only the best for my fake girlfriend,"

alessia took it gratefully, then realised she didn't quite know what to do with herself with you sat in such close proximity. she adjusted her position awkwardly, but it was only a small sofa.

"so, tell me about your family," you said as you switched the tv on, "any weird uncles i need to avoid?"

alessia laughed and began to give you a rundown on all the people you would need to know. she found herself relaxing as she spoke, her earlier awkwardness dissipating. you listened intently. your eyes didn't leave her face as she talked, but alessia didn't notice.

the topic soon moved with ease towards your own family, then you in general, and alessia sank into the comfortable flow of conversation. the two of you chatted for hours before alessia realised the time.

"oh shit, it's pretty late, i should probably be going,"

you yawned and nodded, "oh damn yeah, who knew you could talk so much?" alessia blushed, and began to mutter an apology, but you cut her off, "its cool, makes a nice change," you winked, "you could stay, if you like? it's chucking it down out there, plus it's dark, and you shouldn't walk back alone,"

alessia could get an uber - she had planned to get an uber. logically she should go home, make sure she got a good night's sleep before the game. despite this, she hesistated.

"is that alright?" she asked. you nodded.

"yeah of course, as long as you don't mind sharing the bed. i can drive you back in the morning before the match," you walked off, going to get her some clothes to sleep in, and alessia followed.

you fell asleep pretty much straight away, but alessia found herself unable to do the same. she stared at the ceiling, listening to your even breaths and trying to ignore the way your legs brushed up against hers.

she wasn't sure why she agreed to stay, to sleep in a bed with you no less, but, alessia realised, something had changed this week. she enjoyed your company, enjoyed you. she'd even maybe go as far as calling you a friend. for the first time, alessia found herself wondering what would happen after the wedding. she'd been so focused on keeping up the lie, she hadn't even considered it. the two of you had planned to keep up the lie a little longer, then stage a mutual and unexplosive breakup, but now, alessia wondered if you'd even remain close. what if your actions towards her were simply another part of the act, and once you got your shooting practice in return, would it go back to the way it was? alessia realised, with a very strong conviction, that she didn't want that at all.

---

alessia woke before you the next morning. the rain had cleared up, and the sun cast soft rays through your thin curtains. at some point in the night the two of you had shifted to face each other. alessia realised her arm was hanging loosely over your waist, and she pulled it back quickly.

she wasn't sure how long she'd laid there last night, thoughts racing as sleep evaded her. she lay there now, remarking on how much softer your features looked in sleep. your hair hung loosely over your eyes, and alessia had a sudden urge to brush it aside.

the thought registered with a jolt, and alessia extricated herself from the bed as quickly as possible. she tried to push down the feeling in her chest, point-blank refusing to acknowledge it.

this was bad - what was she doing? she couldn't be thinking like this. she needed to go. getting dressed quickly, alessia collected her things and slipped out of your building without a second thought. it was only when she was halfway down the street that the guilt settled in- she should have left a note or something. alessia settled for a text.

left to get ready for the game - thanks so much for letting me stay, see you later x

---

alessia was already there when you showed up at the stadium for the game. you gave her a wave, then moved to sit by your things. waking up alone had stung a little, and you wondered if you'd done something wrong. you'd thought the two of you had maybe crossed a bridge this week - that maybe you were actual friends now, rather than just accomplices caught up in the same lie. maybe you'd been wrong.

it shouldn't have surprised you. you knew alessia hadn't liked you before, although you were still clueless as to why, and maybe it was naïve to think that could've changed.

of course, the text she'd sent hadn't indicated any problem, it was an entirely reasonable thing to do, and she'd seemed perfectly comfortable in your company last night, but still, a girl leaving your bed at the crack of dawn was never a good sign. you knew with some certainty that, after all this was done, you didn't want to go back to how things were, but you had no clue if alessia felt the same. this could have just been all part of the lie for her.

that didn't matter now though, you had to focus on the game.

---

the first half was electric. alessia played well, if she did say so herself, and in all honesty, it was down to you. while before you'd had great link-up play as an attacking duo, now, the two of you were dynamite. you each ran circles around the defence, anticipating the other's moves with ease. so naturally, when alessia volleyed the ball into the back of the net, it was from a cross you'd rocketed into the box.

she ran to hug you, and you did the same, jumping into her arms and wrapping your legs around her waist. alessia had been wondering if she'd upset you by leaving early, and trying very hard not to think about certain other things, but that was long forgotten. she simply let herself breathe you in, holding you tight as she spun you around.

the game continued much in a similar way, the two of you cleaving through defenders like water. you were 3-0 up at 80 minutes, and still you pressed for more.

alessia took on a defender with ease, pressing into space. she could've attempted the shot herself, but she saw your run into the box. she passed the ball to you, and watched as you put into practice exactly what she'd showed you.

it was a perfect strike. you pumped your fists and made a beeline for alessia, squeezing her tight.

"fuck yes! that was all you lessi, all you," you yelled into her ear. alessia's eyes shone with pride, but the warm feeling that engulfed her was far, far more than that. suddenly, alessia couldn't breathe, her heart beating far more erratically than it should've been. she buried her face in your neck and held you tight. oh this was bad. this was so, so bad. if alessia thought the situation was complicated before, she'd definitely made it a whole lot worse now.

she let go, clapping you on the shoulder as she beamed, choking down the pounding in her chest.

"no y/n, all you,"

---

you were still riding the high of the win, and the goal, as you got yourself ready for the wedding the next day. you'd gone home feeling much better than you had before; alessia's reactions on the pitch seemed to confirm to you that there was no bad blood between the two of you. your heart fluttered slightly at the memory of how she'd looked at you - all beaming smiles and bright eyes.

a knock on your door shook you out of your reverie, and you tried to forget the memory. you couldn't be thinking like that. she was a friend - and just barely. you smoothed down your suit and pulled the door open.

"hey- oh. wow, you look-" alessia stumbled over her words as she took you in.

"told you i had it covered," you grinned, posing a little, "you scrub up alright yourself," you couldn't deny she looked absolutely stunning - it was taking every ounce of your effort not to stare, to keep your breathing relatively normal as you took her in.

"right- um yeah- are you ready to go?"

you nodded and followed her out, steeling your nerves to meet alessia's mum. you ran over the story once again in your mind, and from alessia's expression, you imagined she was doing the same. you reached out to grab her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"calm down, you're breathing like you've just ran a marathon," you muttered as you approached the taxi.

"ah, wow, thats such a helpful thing to say, thank you," alessia's voice dripped with sarcasm, and she didn't even look at you.

"we've got this okay? i'm great at lying," she nodded, but you could still see the tension practically radiating off her shoulders.

"i'm not," she mumbled.

"hey, it'll be fine, i promise. just let me know if you need anything - i just want you to enjoy your brother's wedding, alright?"

alessia nodded again, before you reached the car. you waved through the window at her mum, before sliding into the back of the taxi with alessia.

"mum, this is y/n, my girlfriend," alessia spoke confidently, but you'd spent enough time with her this week to hear the faint waver in her voice. you put on your best meet-the-parents voice as you chimed in - you had promised alessia you'd be on your best behaviour today.

"hi, it's so great to finally meet you! alessia's told me so much about you,"

"you too, sweetheart! we're so glad she's finally found someone to look after her," her mum replied, turning from the passenger seat to smile at you. you could see where alessia got it from.

"well, i do my best," you smile back, "she deserves it,"

alessia groaned next to you, face a little flushed.

"mum..."

"well it's true, honey! you know we worry about you getting lonely up here on your own," you were tempted to slide alessia a teasing smirk at that, but thought better of it. god knows she didn't need you adding to the stress.

"yeah, alright, alright," alessia mumbled, still firmly averting her eyes from yours, "how's luca doing?"

"he's doing well, he's with gio and your dad at the church now,"

alessia nodded and smiled, taking a deep breath in. in a brief moment of daring, you reached for her hand and squeezed. she squeezed back with a small smile. the car fell into a comfortable silence, and you turned to look at the window, watching the cars pass by, and trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest.

with alessia being the sister of the groom, she was swept up into wedding business as soon as you entered the church. you'd agreed it would be best to save the introductions for the reception, so you slid into a pew a few rows behind and watched on as alessia greeted her family. you smirked a little as you watched alessia's mum point you out to her brothers, who clapped alessia on the back in apparent congratulations. you sent them a little wave, then for good measure, blew alessia a kiss. she sent you a death glare in return.

the ceremony was beautiful, even as a total stranger. your eyes kept drifitng back to alessia, watching as she beamed with pride, tears shining in her eyes. it warmed your heart to see her like this; you knew she was close with her family, but it was nice to witness it in full. she caught your eye in the crowd, soft smile growing when you grinned back at her.

alessia beckoned you over to her side as the crowd gathered to watch luca and his wife leave the church in the wedding car. you slung an arm around her shoulders and she leaned into you.

"happy?"

"very," she nodded, "thank you for coming,"

"anytime,"

you were interrupted by gio clapping both of you on the back.

"not going to introduce me less?" he grinned. alessia rolled her eyes.

"gio this is y/n. y/n, gio," you stuck out a hand, and he shook it before pulling you in for a hug.

"pleasure to meet you, y/n," he grinned, before turning to alessia, "where've you been hiding this one, lessi? took you long enough,"

"fuck off gio,"

"i'm joking, i'm really happy for you," he turned back to you, face suddenly serious, "if you hurt my baby sister i will kill you, understood?"

"loud and clear," you grinned, and he laughed.

"yeah, i like her less, good job," gio walked off, presumably to greet someone else, and you turned to alessia.

"that went well,"

"shut up please,"

alessia was dragged off for photos pretty soon after, so you spent your time milling around the reception area, and taking advantage of cocktail hour. you had a few run-ins with some cousins and family friends, word apparently having travelled fast, but you put on your best loved-up smile, and spent about an hour gushing about alessia. you tried not to think about how easy it was.

alessia returned after a while, making a beeline for you. or rather, for the drink you held in your hand, which she took without a word and downed rather hastily.

"having fun?"

"all anyone wants to talk to me about is you," she muttered, "even luca! you'd think it was our fucking wedding, not his! i need another drink,"

"on it," you said, walking to the bar with a small laugh. you returned with two cocktails, placing one into alessia's hand. she smiled in thanks.

"just one evening, less, you got this," she nodded, already halfway through her cocktail.

"oh there she is- alessia!" alessia groaned as she heard her mum's voice.

"god, here we go," she grumbled, before plastering a smile to her face and turning around. you waved as her parents approached, swiftly followed by luca and his wife.

"this is y/n," alessia said. you shook her dad's hand, greeting him with a smile.

"it's great to meet you," you turned to luca, "and congratulations! its a beautiful wedding, thank you so much for having me here,"

"yeah thank you," he beamed, clearly caught up in wedding ecstasy, "and of course! you're part of the family too now," you nodded, a small pang of guilt at your lies hitting you squarely in the chest, "plus, as if we were going to let less get away with not bringing you,"

"luca-" alessia attempted, but he waved her off.

"she never brings anyone to anything, honestly i don't even know if she's ever dated anyone seriously, we were all so relieved when she said she was finally bringing a date,"

you didn't miss the way alessia's fingers tightened around her glass, or the way her jaw muscles clenched.

"i mean, seriously, we were starting to get like, worried, you know? like we get you're busy with football less, but come on!"

you were concerned alessia was going to break the glass if she gripped it any tighter. you snaked an arm around her waist, rubbing your thumb slightly over her hipbone.

"well, nothing to worry about anymore," you joked good-naturedly, "i'm just lucky she got there in the end," you flashed her a smile, and her eyes betrayed her thanks. she relaxed into you a little, nodding.

"i'm glad, treat her right, yeah?" luca said, and you nodded. you were getting used to these shovel talks by now, "anyway, you guys should probably get in your seats- speeches soon!" he turned with a wave.

being alessia's date, you of course found yourself on the family table, nestled between your fake girlfriend and her brother. luckily, the attention of the group had finally switched back to the wedding at hand, and you gave yourself a moment to relax. all this lying, this play-acting at being alessia's girl, hadn't felt too difficult in the moment, but now that you weren't under the scrutiny of prying eyes, you realised how much it had taken out of you. you tried to focus on the speeches, taking the moment to collect yourself.

try as you might though, your attention never drifted too far from alessia. you snuck a sideways glance at her, watching as she listened intently. her eyes shone with tears as her dad spoke, and so, emboldened by the copious amount of champagne, you placed a hand gently on her thigh. her eyes never moved from her dad, but her hand moved to rest on top of yours. you felt a little giddy at the intimacy of it all, her fingers tracing a pattern against yours. you told yourself it was just the alcohol making you feel this way, but this small private gesture implied otherwise. it wasn't like anyone could see - there was no one to keep up the pretence for.

gio swept you up into conversation pretty quickly once the speeches ended and the food arrived, seeming genuinely interested in you and your life. his plus one, his girlfriend of a few years, joined in, and you spent most of the meal chatting to the two of them. alessia was uncharacteristically quiet, sharing only the occasional exchange with her parents. you longed to know what was going through her mind, but despite the charade, you knew it wasn't the time to ask. it probably wasn't even for you to ask at all. all you could do was watch as she subdued herself, only moving to refill her champagne yet again.

by the time the first dance was done, and the party began in full, you were already feeling the effects of the alcohol. from her more relaxed manner, you guessed alessia was too. the two of you had been left alone at your table, and you took the opportunity to check in with her.

"you good?" there was nobody in your close vicinity, with everyone dispersing onto the dance floor, but you kept your voice low regardless.

alessia nodded and hummed, closing her eyes a little.

"are you pissed?" you laughed. she snapped her eyes open at that, looking at you indignantly.

"no, are you?" you chose to ignore her defensive tone, instead slipping into a wide laugh.

"yep, hammered,"

that got a laugh out of alessia, and she smirked.

"yeah, me too- let's go dance,"

you nodded and let her pull you towards the throng of people. the two of you danced for a while, just enjoying the atmosphere. alessia's parents soon materialised, the two of them grinning from ear to ear. you laughed as alessia's dad brought out the full set of dance moves, glad that alessia seemed to have eased up as well. it didn't last long however, as the four of you soon sank into chairs and began to chat.

"we're thrilled you're here y/n," alessia's dad began, his wife tucked under his arm. you could see why alessia had high standards for relationships. "lessi's always so busy, we never get to see her relaxed like this,"

you almost choked on your drink. you were pretty sure alessia had never been less relaxed in her life.

"i'm sure you'll look after her, we've been waiting for her to find someone who makes her this happy," alessia sipped at her own drink, not even looking up.

"all our children finally growing up and starting their own families, it makes us so happy," her mum nodded, chiming in. at the mention of a family, alessia finished her glass, and turned to you. it only took one look to see the frustration in her eyes. you went to say something, but were cut off by the arrival of a group of people you hadn't met.

"oh my god, hi! you're alessia's girlfriend right? i'm her cousin, everyone's been talking about how she finally brought a date, we had to come meet you! took her long enough!"

you nodded and introduced yourself, shifting your chair a fraction closer to alessia. before you could say anymore, however, alessia cut you off.

"y/n, could you go get me another drink?" you hesitated - the last thing you wanted to do was leave alessia alone in the lion's den. the desperate glint in her eye, the slight quiver in her lip, told you exactly how you she was feeling though, so you nodded and stood, waving a quick goodbye to what now seemed to be the entire russo family.

standing at the bar, you kept your gaze on alessia, who now appeared to be being bombarded by questions. you tapped your fingers impatiently on the counter, eager to get back to her and mitigate the damage. it was becoming increasingly apparent that, although she may have avoided the questions of why she was alone, your presence here had just opened up a whole new can of worms. lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the girl who sidled up next to you until she spoke.

"bride or groom?"

you turned to her, a little taken aback. your identity as alessia's girlfriend had mostly preceded introductions up until now.

"oh, uh, groom,"

"that explains why i didn't recognise you - i'm the bride's sister,"

"oh cool," you smiled politely. the girl's suggestive tone gave you a clear indication of her intentions. normally, you would have flirted back- you couldn't deny she was attractive - but you only wanted to get back to alessia. you glanced back over to the table, but her chair was now empty.

the bartender placed your drinks in front of you, and you took them quickly.

"uh, sorry, i should get back, but nice to meet you," you muttered, before practically jogging back.

"where did less go?" you said, putting the drinks down, and turning to her mum with a smile that you hoped didn't betray your concern.

"oh just to the bathroom love," she replied. you nodded. it was probably nothing, but you had a strong urge to go and check on her.

"oh, i might go as well, could you watch our drinks?" you barely gave her time to answer before you dodged your way through the crowd.

"alessia? you in here?" there was no reply. a quick check determined all the cubicles were empty, save for one very drunk bridesmaid who you had to practically extract yourself from.

you came back out, racking your brain for where she could have gone. catching sight of a door slightly ajar, you stepped outside.

"hey," you began hesitantly. alessia sat with her head in her hands, her breathing shallow. she didn't look up. "you okay?"

you contemplated sitting down on the bench next to her, but the moment felt suddenly very private. it was quite possible that you were the last person she wanted to be around.

alessia mumbled something, but her voice was too muffled to understand. you stepped a little closer.

"what was that?" you kept your voice low and your movements cautious, as though she were an animal you didn't want to spook. she looked up, and your heart broke a little as you took in her red eyes and tear-tracked cheeks.

"why do you care? you're not actually my girlfriend," her voice was tired, resigned almost.

you couldn't deny it stung a little, but you weren't going to let that deter you. you weren't leaving her like this.

"well no, but i'm your friend," at your own words you faltered a little -were you? you knew how your position on the matter had switched from before, but you still held some doubt that she had ever changed her mind about you. your voice was hesitant as you spoke again, "are we not friends, alessia?"

"we are but," she sniffled and shook her head "it's none of your business,"

"i respect that, and if you want me to go i will, but you're upset, and i care about you, and i want to help. i want it to be my business less,"

she looked up at you, properly this time, before burying her head in her hands again.

"it's just- too much," she whispered, a small sob escaping her. you rushed to sit next to her, placing an arm around her shoulders immediately.

"what is?"

"all of it," she exhaled, finally letting the dam break and her words spill out, "i thought you being here would help, that they would finally get off my back, but now they've all just made it even more clear that they were just waiting for me to find someone, yet they're all so shocked that i finally have, like, did they all just think i was fucking lonely and desperate this whole time?"

she paused to take a shaky breath.

"and i was happy on my own, i really was, but they say shit like that and suddenly i'm an insecure teenager all over again- like if my own family expect me to be alone then surely i'm not good enough for anyone to want me, and i didn't know what to say, or do, and i just feel really, really shitty, you know?"

you nodded, stroking her back as encouragement to continue.

"and they all just started bombarding me, and i didn't know what to say without you there, and i just-" she swiped furiously at her face. "and then i wanted to go find you, but that girl was flirting with you, and then i just felt so guilty for dragging you here when you could be out with other girls who aren't a fucking mess like i am, and now you're being so nice and tolerating me when i'm drunk and crying, when i'm literally not your problem and i just-"

"less, you don't get it - i want to be here. i want to tolerate drunk you. i want you to be my problem,"

alessia shook her head frantically, tears still flowing as she continued her rant.

"i'm just so sorry - i've been so stressed all day, everyone has been all over me and i should've been thinking about the wedding, but all i can think about is you, because i know you were faking it today but i just couldn't stop wishing you weren't, and i-"

she stopped suddenly, realising what she'd confessed. you tried to look at her, but she kept her eyes glued to the floor. your heart pounded as you deciphered her words, unsure if you'd mistaken their meaning. you bit your lip, wanting so desperately to say the words that, you realised with some certainty, had been begging to be let out for a while. fuck it.

"i haven't been able to keep my eyes off you all day, alessia," you murmured. she risked a hesitant look up at you. nothing in her expression told you to stop, so you kept talking.

"i know you're happy on your own. i know you don't need anyone to 'complete you' or any of that other cliché crap. and i don't either. but i've got to see the complete you this week, and she's amazing. i haven't faked a second of today. and if i'm barking up the wrong tree here you can tell me to fuck off - you can go back to hating me like before and i won't say another word, but alessia, i don't want to just be your fake girlfriend anymore, i want the real thing,"

alessia smiled, and your breath caught at the sight. your hands shook as you awaited her reaction.

alessia leaned forward, inching closer to press her forehead against yours. her hand found your cheek, her touch as soft as satin. her breath ghosted against your lips as she spoke.

"so do i,"

you closed the gap. her lips were softer than you could've anticipated. they pressed into yours, slowly at first, then with a deep urgency. the kiss was messy; tear-stained and drunken, but the feel was electric. the dam broke on all the tension that had built between the two of you, and every ounce flooded out as pure desire. you wanted her, needed her, with a desperation you hadn't realised you could possess. your bodies curved into each other; the aftermath of every faked smile, every pretend touch, culminating in the most real feeling you'd ever had.

you broke away at some point, hazy and grinning. alessia's breathing was heavy, her eyes shining.

"we should go back. you probably shouldn't miss your brother's wedding,"

"right, yeah, of course," she smiled, wiping at her cheeks to try and fix the tear-stains as she stood. you reached out to help, then pulled back to take her in. you smirked.

"were you jealous of that girl?" she smacked your shoulder, but there was no bite in it. she leant in for another kiss.

"so fucking annoying," she muttered, smiling widely against your lips.

me saying i'm writing a short fic then posting the shittiest fucking slowburn you've ever read.

anyway, hope you enjoyed! love, hedge xx

#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #engwnt #alessia russo imagine #muwfc x reader #woso #woso x reader #lionesses

1K notes · View notes

heich0e · 7 months

Text

choso/f!reader

The light from the signs that line the street around you makes a dull, irritating ache throb behind your eyes.

It’s a migraine. Or exhaustion maybe. Regardless of the cause, the pain carves its way through you like rot. You lower your eyes to the pavement, hoping that by averting your gaze from the fluorescents you may find some temporary reprieve.

It doesn’t help much.

You fish the little paper packet of cigarettes out from inside the small purse you wear over your arm. There are only three left in the pack, but you swear there should be more. You’d only bought them that morning—no, wait, yesterday morning, since you’d gone a night without sleep. You suck a little hiss of disappointed air in through your teeth, plucking out one of the last lonely cigarettes from inside the pack and then retrieving your lighter too. Though inadvisable by anyone medically qualified, you hope that maybe the hit of nicotine might help the headache while you wait.

Cigarette between your teeth, you lift your little yellow lighter to the end. Pressing down on the safety that covers the spark wheel you draw it quickly back, but the tiny flame that appears momentarily flickers out just as swiftly. You repeat the motion, pressing and dragging your thumb to light it, but you find no more success than you had upon your first attempt. Your lips pull into a tighter line, pressing into the spongey filter of the cigarette in frustration. You shake the lighter a few times, hoping that whatever meagre amount of fluid left in it might suddenly decide to make itself known.

You light it again.

Nothing.

“Here.”

You glance up.

Choso stands before you, his arm extended in your direction with a lighter in his hand. It’s green—a less neon shade than your own lighter—and has something scrawled across it in smudged ink that you can’t make out in the night. Your eyes meet, a momentary look passing between the two of you. Recognition. Greeting, maybe.

You don’t take the lighter from his hand. Instead, you steady the cigarette between your lips in the V of your fingers and lean towards him. He understands without it needing to be said, clicking his own lighter to life and holding it to the end until the cherry flares red on your inhale.

Your eyes meet again as you angle yourself into his space, closer now than before. The same street signs and their glowing lights that had been so irritating to you catch in his glassy brown eyes, framed by long lashes that flutter in a blink.

He looks tired. But he always looks tired, and you’re sure you’re not faring much better—so who are you to judge?

You pull away once your cigarette is lit, taking a drag and then blowing the smoke into the wind.

“You’re late,” you say quietly. Not a hello, nor a thank you.

“Sorry,” he replies. “My little brother had cram school. I had to wait to make sure he got home safely.”

Itadori Yuuji—15, a high school student, not his brother by blood.

You nod a little bit, dismissive more than it is accepting, and take another long drag from your cigarette.

Choso watches you raptly, his eyes following every movement. After some time passes, you hold the cigarette out to him in offering, though it’s mostly burned away.

“No, thank you,” he refuses you politely, dipping his head.

You finish the cigarette off, and then drop it to the ground and crush it under the pointed toe of your high-heeled shoe.

There’s a mint in your coat pocket, and you quickly pop it into your mouth to chase away the lingering taste of tobacco. You love the nicotine rush, but you still hate the bitter flavour that lingers on your tongue even after all these years. Choso watches that too—his eyes following your hand until the little white pastille slips behind your lips.

Your gazes meet.

You take a step towards him, wrapping your hands around his arm and tucking yourself against his side. It’s natural. Familiar. Easy. He smells like soap, and this close to him you can see the way his dark hair—down today, and tucked behind his ears, rather than in the two twists he often wears—is faintly wet, like he’s only just showered.

“Let’s go.”

Inside the shabby lobby, there’s only one person lingering—a man, standing behind the counter—who pastes on a small but notably insincere smile when you and Choso step through the door.

“Good evening,” he greets you with a slight bow.

“A room, please,” Choso says to him, to the point but not unkind.

“For how long?”

You feel the man’s eyes on you then, and you know what he must be thinking. It’s not hard to tell, looking between you and Choso, what the two of you are doing—even less so at a love hotel on a seedy side of town where you can book rooms by the half-hour. The differences between Choso and yourself are many and obvious; what with your skimpy little dress and your heels in contrast to his jeans; raggedy, thick-soled combat boots; and windbreaker. And that’s to say nothing about the differences in your countenances: Choso looks stiff, uncomfortable even, under the scrutiny of the man at the front desk, but you’re largely unbothered by the judgement in his gaze. You lean a little more into Choso’s arm where you’re wrapped around it, tucking your face into his collar in a show of diffidence but you meet the man’s eyes with a flutter of your lashes.

He licks his lips a little, a flush appearing just above the collar of his rumpled dress shirt, and you resist the urge to sneer in disgust.

Once the two of you receive the key to your room, you quietly make your way there—still sticking close to Choso’s side as you depart from the lobby towards the elevator. You don’t cross paths with another soul as you travel to your room on the third floor, the only sound to be heard is the mechanical fwoosh of the elevator as it climbs, the hum of the vending machine selling variously erotic wares you have to pass to make it to your room, and the quiet beep as Choso unlocks the door.

Just as the two of you are about to step in, a door at the other end of the hall opens, and Choso swiftly wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you in front of him to usher you across the threshold first—using his body to shield you from the eyes of the man who passes down the corridor behind him as the door swings shut. There’s something almost charmingly conscientious about the gesture, though it seems to have been more unconscious than anything.

The room is just what you expect it to be. Plain. Somewhat sterile. Not uncomfortable, but not particularly homey, either. There’s a bed, two bedside tables, a television mounted at the foot of the bed. There’s a door that leads into the tiny washroom, where the shower seems to take up most of the floorspace. The room is dim, likely intentionally, even once you flick the overhead lights on.

“That guy was creepy,” you sigh, stepping away from Choso and further into the room towards the bed.

“Who?” he asks.

“The guy at the counter,” you sniff, flopping down at the edge of the bed. You throw one leg over the other, crossing them at the knee, and lean back on your elbows against the mattress. The linen is surprisingly soft considering the inexpensive rate. “You’d swear he’s never seen a call girl before.”

Choso is still standing by the door, looking as uncomfortable as ever. He reaches up and rubs his neck, peering around the room seemingly just as an excuse not to meet your eyes.

“So,” you call to him, beckoning his wandering attention back to you. You tilt your head to the side once his gaze connects with yours. “Did you bring it?”

Choso’s hand flutters to the pocket of his dark windbreaker, and part of you wonders if he even knows he did it. You always find that part of him so curious—his sincerity. How easy he is for you to read. You can’t help but question if he’s like this with everyone, or if there’s something about you that makes him this way.

He nods.

The mint you popped into your mouth before entering the hotel has melted away to nothing on your tongue now, but the lingering freshness remains. You feel the mentholated burn as you suck in a little breath, a pleasant tingle in your throat.

“Let’s see it, then,” you say, holding out your hand expectantly.

He hesitates a little but then he approaches, pulling a creased envelope out from his jacket pocket and handing it to you. It’s folded in half, and theres a grease stain at the corner of the white paper envelope—not uncommon for a mechanic, you suppose.

Choso’s hands are always so clean when he meets you, though.

Inside the envelope is exactly what you came here for.

“This is perfect,” you remark, thumbing through the papers as your eyes quickly scan across the pages to surmise their contents.

Choso is very still as he stands in front of you, towering over where you sit perched at the edge of the love hotel bed and watching as you flick through the papers he’s just delivered into your hands. There’s something sort of expectant in the way he waits for you to speak again.

“And you’re sure this is all of it?” you ask him, glancing up from the pages in your grip.

He nods. “That’s everything.”

“Gojo’s gonna lose his shit when I slap this on his desk,” you remark to yourself with a snort. You can already picture the absolute dismay on Satoru’s face when he realizes that you beat him to the punch in securing the information that he’s been after for weeks now. You’re sure he’ll be whining about it to Geto for days.

Choso fidgets slightly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Nice work, kid,” you commend him, looking up at him with a smile.

There’s a shift in expression on Choso’s face then—not quite a pout, but a definite air of disappointment or displeasure. He says nothing in spite of the look, and you don’t ask anything, either. That’s not what you came here to talk about, after all. For all intents and purposes, your businesses began and ended with the stack of papers in your lap.

Contained within the pages Choso brought to you is every vehicle (make, model, VIN number and plate) that Choso’s garage has worked on or modified for the crime syndicate currently wreaking havoc in the city under Sukuna’s command.

“I’ve got your payment here,” you say, fishing out an envelope of your own from inside your purse. There’s enough cash inside the crisp manila envelop that you produce to reimburse the cost of the room he’d paid for and to compensate him for the information. “The rest of it went to the cram school to cover your brother’s tuition, as usual.”

Choso takes it from your hands, his long fingers brushing gently against your own as it passes between your grips, and he doesn’t even bother checking the contents before he slips it into his pocket.

“Thank you, Inspector,” he says quietly, dipping his head in a bow.

Your lips purse as Choso stares down at his feet, observing the way he seems to be avoiding your gaze.

Choso’s been working as an informant for the past few years. It started off just passing small pieces of information here and there, having established a rapport with your previous chief in his late teens following the murders of his two brothers thanks to the early days of the gang that would eventually grow into Sukuna’s organization now. Choso was born into that life—cursed by his own blood—but he’s made a conscious effort in his adulthood to keep on the straight and narrow, largely for Yuuji’s sake.

You’ve been meeting him like this for a little over a year now, building your own relationship with him now that the chief retired. Choso’s mechanic shop sees all kinds of people coming in and out, good and bad, and he gleans a lot of information in his neutrality. He’s useful to you.

You understand the risk that Choso takes by meeting with you. By working for you. It’s a truth you recognize as well as he does. But he’s never hesitated to get you the information you ask for. Has never denied you anything you seek. All he asks in return is a meagre compensation and the assured safety and education of his little brother.

You wonder why he’s willing to go so far, and for whose sake he does it.

You flop back onto the hotel bed, one hand resting over the papers in your lap to keep them from slipping onto the floor.

“I’m beat,” you complain, throwing your other arm up over your eyes and hiding your face in the crook of your elbow.

“You’re not sleeping?” the soft rumble of Choso’s low voice is strangely comforting like this.

You hum. “Haven’t been home in two days.”

“You need to rest,” he chides you, and there’s something funnily maternal in the way he says it. He’s suddenly every bit the big brother you know him to be. You shift your arm so you can peek up at him from where you’re sprawled across the bed.

He’s inched closer to you since your eyes were covered, hesitating at the very edge of the mattress beside you. He’s staring down at you with a serious expression on his face, slightly pinched in reproach but softened at the edges with concern.

“Yeah, yeah,” you snort, lifting your hand and waving it dismissively. “I’ll get there eventually, kid.”

Choso catches your wrist in his hand before you can let it drop again, suddenly kneeling against the mattress so he’s looming over you. You’re surprised by the gesture, a sudden falter in the steady thumping of your heart as he stares down at you.

“I’m older than you,” he says quietly, somewhat sullen but simultaneously sheepish. His eyes bore down into yours. “Please stop calling me 'kid'.”

You know he’s right. You know just about everything there is to know about Kamo Choso on paper, having researched him and his background extensively before you got involved with him like this. You suppose you picked up the habit thanks to the chief, since that’s how he always used to refer to him. As Choso hovers over you, his big hand still wrapped around your wrist and his broad frame blocking the rest of the hotel room behind him from view, the truth of his remark rings palpably true.

You suddenly aren’t sure how to respond, your lips parting but no words slipping out.

Choso lets your hand drop after a moment, shifting to sit beside you on the bed. There’s no other seats in the small hotel room, so it’s not particularly unexpected, but you’re strangely conscious of him now in ways you don’t like.

“You should sleep here for a bit,” he says, his eyes glancing over to the clock on the bedside table. “We have the room for another hour.”

You don’t ever leave the hotel room before a realistically inconspicuous amount of time has passed, but suddenly the prospect of spending another hour with him makes your stomach twist.

“I’m fine,” you try to brush him off, sitting up and neatly stacking the papers so that you can slip them back into their envelope and tuck them safely into your purse. Your face feels hot, and that ache between your temples is back again. You contemplate another cigarette.

A gentle touch against your elbow makes you freeze.

You glance over at Choso from the corner of your eye, and find his dark gaze on you. His eyes are imploring, soft, and seemingly fathomless.

“Rest,” he insists again. “I’ll wake you before we need to leave.”

Your eyes scan his face. Your headache throbs.

There are a hundred reasons to deny him. A thousand reasons you shouldn’t listen to what he says.

But there’s one—a distant, whispered reason, that you don’t want to acknowledge—that tells you differently.

“Move over,” you grumble, letting your purse fall to the floor with a dull thud!

Choso obeys immediately, shifting so you can crawl into the bed beside him and rest against the pillows. You squeeze your eyes shut the minute your head hits them.

“You should at least take your shoes off,” Choso remarks. You flinch a little as you feel the warmth of his hand on your ankle, holding it steady as he gently slips your shoe from your foot. He repeats the same motion for the other.

Your eyes remain shut.

After a moment of stillness, you feel the mattress shift slightly and the warmth of his body recede. When you crack one eye open to survey what changed, you see that Choso’s slipped down to the floor, resting with his back against the side of the bed and his legs crossed underneath him. His eyes are shut now too, and you watch his profile for a moment as he breathes.

You close your eyes again.

“Wake me up in thirty minutes,” you mumble, and Choso hums in response. “I’ll leave first."

But even in the stillness of that little hotel room, even in your exhaustion, neither of you manages to fall asleep.

#choso x reader #kamo choso x reader #jjk drabble #jjk writing #writing #tw smoking

645 notes · View notes

jeonghantis · 1 year

Text

✧ — IN ALL HIS GLORY.

PAIRING ⇝ kim mingyu x reader.

SUMMARY ⇝

waking up next to your lover, you can't help but admire his unearthly beauty and consider yourself unbelievably lucky that he's all yours.

TAGS ⇝ established relationship, romance, suggestive, Fluff (yes, capital F Fluff), domestic-ish.

WARNINGS ⇝ language, gn!reader, fluff (lol), nudity, makeout scene, alludes to sexual content (MINORS DNI!).

WORD COUNT ⇝ 1.2k words and some.

note: yeah, this was a draft i had originally scratched for mingyu's birthday because i was unsure of its direction, but the innisfree behind got me scrambling the pieces back together. this was meant to appreciate mingyu and his beauty and i hope i did him justice.. (and if you can't tell when you finish reading, i am still mourning the loss of his long curly hair). anyway, i hope you enjoy reading <3 p.s. this is 1 out of 2 fics i have to celebrate mingyu month. stay tuned. <3 p.p.s this so not proofread i am so sorry

reblog if you are terribly in love with kim mingyu too (and to support me).

explicit warnings under cut.

EXPLICIT WARNINGS ⇝ nudity, implications of top!mingyu, implications of bottom!reader, mingyu was Rough, mentions of oral (reader receiving).

The first glint of sun spilled through windows, swathing your lover’s slumbering figure in its golden light. His lips were parted, a hand rested atop his chest that rose and fell with easy breaths. His hair that he grew out was a dark halo from where it splayed over the pillow, so vividly stark against the paleness of it. But unlike its sable tone, Kim Mingyu still had his radiance, even in his sleep, that could set light to the darkest dark.

From where you lay beside him, you reached out, gingerly brushing away the lone curl that had tumbled over his still face. Sleep had long left your body, waking dazed with ease and warmth. The outcome of the passion that had stretched all throughout the night clung onto your bones heavily, straining you from making any big movements. But you did not mind. Though you ache all over, you could lay perfectly still without complaint if it meant not interrupting this peace.

But Mingyu woke up, blinking life back into his eyes. Then, he found you.

“Good morning, my love,” he mumbled, lips curled into a drowsy smile.

You mirror him, a hand cradling the side of his face. “Good morning, my heart.”

Then you’re reaching for each other, lips naturally finding one another.

It’s innocent at first, a tad bit clumsy with movements still sluggish, his from slumber and yours exhaustion. Airy giggles pass between you two at the lumbering bumps of noses and teeth, but eventually, a steady rhythm comes with practiced ease, a slow pace of melding lips that’s nothing short of passion. Nothing really ever is when it comes to being with the love of your life.

It’s Mingyu who grasps for more first, a palm resting atop the small of your back to draw you even closer, your body pressed flush against his. It’s only then do you remember how you both did not bother with clothes after last night’s events. And he seems to have just remembered in the moment too because he’s now groaning into your mouth, his face slanting to deepen the amorous exchange in search of more of you. You’re very quick on the uptake, the fervency of the kiss heightening, as you pour all of yourself into him and he drinks it up with an unquenchable thirst, every slip of breath, every movement of lip. You tug on the soft pink flesh of his bottom lip for him to part open. When he did, your tongue slinked in, licking into the wet cavern of his mouth with languid strokes. Mingyu is all too ready for it, welcoming your voyage with another moan and a wet caress of his own tongue over yours, as his palm smooths over the underside of your thigh, hoisting it up to lift it over his waist.

The blankets twist around your tangled limbs. Mingyu shucked it off. The cold air sends a shock through you and instinctively, you’re seeking the warmth of your lover with a tug on his shoulder. Mingyu gives in easily and shifts his body around until the upper half of him rests on top of you, pushing himself impossibly closer.

The added weight of him was not something you had considered in your daze and you’re sparing yourself some breath as you ease back with a gasp. But the man is just as lost in his daze and chases after your retreating mouth. Mingyu managed to swallow down a couple of your breaths with fervid lips until you had to stop him with a hand pressed firmly against his shoulder.

“Stop, wait - ” you exhale with a staggered laugh, gently urging your lover back. “You’re heavy, Gyu. I need to breathe.”

“Yeah, and I need you,” he whines petulantly like a child, though he is pulling back anyway until he’s back laying on his side. “Which, arguably, is more important.”

“Can’t exactly have me if I stop breathing,” you counter with a playful roll of your eyes. “I’m already exhausted from last night trying to keep up with your insane stamina.”

A prideful look crosses his face. “I did go pretty hard on you.”

You smother the urge to smile as you give laudatory pats on his chest. “You did and I do love you for it, but now my entire body hurts.”

“Want me to help make you feel better?”

“Please.”

Mingyu grins. “I have to fuck you again though.”

“Thought so,” you snorted and slapped his chest, but you were smiling.

“Or I make you breakfast,” Mingyu laughs and reaches to hold your hand, interlacing your fingers with his. “Then I could give you a massage. How’s that?”

“Heavenly,” you hum.

Mingyu props himself up on one arm, staring down at you with glittering eyes. “Then give me a kiss before I go?”

You laugh softly and cast your gaze up at him, a hand already reaching to pull him down by his nape.

But you still.

Kim Mingyu was beautiful. This was a fact you knew. A fact that you should be accustomed to. But no matter just how much you set your eyes upon his perfectly sculpted features, your breath catches in your throat every time.

Mingyu was outlined against the risen sun; his radiance coming to full glory as the light kissed his bronzed skin to gold. Each dip and curve of his toned body, each sharp and soft line of his handsome face appeared meticulously carved onto skin, like marks of a sculptor’s tenacity. Even the moles adorning his face—one flecked on the tip of his nose and the other on his cheek—looked thoughtfully placed, somehow adding their own strange allure to his already captivating charm.

The mole on his cheek twitches when a smile pulls at the corners of his lips.

“What is it?” Mingyu whispered, his dark eyes peering. “What are you staring at?”

You had not known you were staring for so long, but who could blame you when he looked the way he did? When you love him the way you do?

“I was just thinking about how beautiful you are,” you answered honestly, brushing back the raven strands that had fallen over his eyes. “And about how I am absolutely in love with you.”

“Suddenly?”

“I’ve always thought so,” you smiled.

Mingyu regards you for a silent beat, the faintest blush dusting his cheeks. Then he’s dipping down and capturing your mouth with his in another heady kiss.

“Fuck breakfast and a massage,” he grunts against you. “I am going to fuck you.”

“Gyu,” you start to groan, which should have been a warning but it comes out half-hearted and laced with desire instead.

“Or I can use my tongue on you instead,” he offers as his mouth already strays away, mapping down kisses down the column of your throat. “Please?”

“Just because of what I said?” You try for a laugh and it comes a bit breathy.

“All because of what you said,” Mingyu says and draws back. He’s peering at you with those big, sparkling eyes again. “Because you’re beautiful and I’m absolutely in love with you too.”

“Charmer,” you huff, a smile itching your lips. “You’re still making breakfast and giving me a massage right after though.”

Mingyu smiled as blinding as the first glint of sunlight. "Deal."

#seventeen smut #svt smut #mingyu smut #mingyu fanfic #svt fanfic #kim mingyu smut #seventeen fanfic

1K notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

Text

Dirty Work 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Let me know if you want more. Didn't get too much on Part 1 but I have ideas so...

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your third week begins in the same place. Before the iron gate, the code unlocking the green maze within. You’re still just as impressed as your first day there. To you, it’s like a fantasy. Entirely unattainable but it’s right there. You can look, but you can’t touch… not beyond cleaning.

You linger outside, not thinking. You admire the tall tulips and the hedge trimmed to resemble some landmark you can’t quite place. You could see a place like this in an Austenian film or perhaps something Victorian. You don’t have an eye for the difference.

You key in the code for the backdoor and continue on. You put covers on your shoes and grab a fresh set of gloves. You’re getting into a pattern, though each client differs slightly. You put your things away and bring your water bottle with you. You bought a cool strap that keeps it against your hip, a small splurge with your first paycheck. The rest went to bills.

As you start on your usual journey through the many rooms of the airy house, you wonder how its sole resident isn’t lonely. Or perhaps he is. He doesn’t seem the type to admit to it. You turn your thoughts back to your work. You try not to think of him, truly, you don’t know much of him.

You take a candlestick and polish it. You move on the small globe; an ivory orb on a silver axes, the outlines of the continent carved into the surface. As you put it back, you notice something. An item you can’t recall being there before. You reach for it but stop as you realise it’s a camera.

You retract your hand and move on to dust the shelf itself. Does he not trust you or was it there before? Of course, somewhere like this would need security. There was a story just the other day about a break-in, but that was closer to your father’s where those culprits dwell.

The second floor is always easier. It seems even less lived-in than below. All but the study and the main bedroom. You flit in and out, checking points off the list until you’re content. You can only hope he will be too.

As you descend, the epiphany tickles your brain. It’s the first shift he hasn’t appeared. It’s easy to assume he’s busy. You don’t expect him to hang around. As if he would supervise you. Besides, that’s probably what the cameras are for.

You pack up and get your single refill of water. You leave the way you came, as you have twice before. The keypad flashes red to signal the lock is in place. You haul your kit higher on your shoulder and tread slowly along the little path along the side of the house.

You look at the gazebo trimmed in hanging ivy. It’s beautiful. You’d like to venture up and sit on that bench. Just sit and watch and smell and feel. You force the thought away and turn back along the stonework.

You’re going home. Not to pollen but tobacco smoke. Not to lush gardens but wilting strands in soggy mud. Not to immaculate floors and pristine decor but to stained walls and broken springs in your mattress.

Home, to another man that makes you nervous.

🧹

Your father is as he always is, smoking on the couch. You say hi as you come in with a bag of groceries, the prize for what was left of your check. He grumbles and flicks through the channels. You go to the kitchen to put away the food.

You’re almost at the end of your first month, a third of the way through your probationary period. Hopefully after that, you can pick up more clients. You shut the cupboard and go back to the living room. Your father coughs into a crumpled tissue. He sounds horrible. You can’t say so, he doesn’t seem to care.

“I got some fresh produce,” you announce proudly, “I’ll steam some veggies with the chops.”

“You get fries?” He growls.

“Uh, no,” you admit, “I thought we could eat something healthier–”

“I don’t like steamed veggies,” he drops the remote and grabs his pack of smokes.

“Oh, sorry, I was only thinking–”

“Don’t lie and say you were,” he snorts as he pulls out a cigarette and taps the end of the pack. “Go on, I’m tryna watch this.”

He nods at the television and you follow his gaze to the rerun of All in the Family. He’s seen them all before. You take the dismissal and retreat up to your room. Like you always do.

It’s always been like this. You don’t hate your father but sometimes it feels like he hates you. You put your kit and your water bottle on your dress and change into clean clothes. You lay in bed and close your eyes, trying to let go of the tension in your muscles.

You don’t remember your mom but he does. You assume that’s why he’s like this. It’s not you, it’s what happened. Tragic. A loss he won’t talk about.

You rub your forehead and let your arms fall to bend on either side of your head. You only ever saw one picture of your mother. You don’t think you look like her. She was pretty. And young. You were always too afraid to ask about her but you could tell she was younger than him. No one could’ve expected her to go so soon.

You close your eyes. It’s a strange sort of grief to miss someone who is only a shadow in your mind. Not even a voice, just this ghost you know by name. Mommy…

You blow out a deep breath in an effort to bid away the sadness. That was so long ago. This is now and you have a lot to worry about.

🧹

The Laufeyson house greets you once more with its elaborate brickwork. It’s starting to feel familiar, like a habit to put in the new code and walk along the winding path around to the back door. Six more numbers and you’re inside; shoe covers, gloves, bottle, and the list.

You always check the new email sent by the agency. There’s always something small and new squeezed into the bullet points. This week, you notice the first task is laundry.

‘Retrieve hamper from hallway. When hamper is left outside door, it means clothes must be washed.’

Easy enough. You go upstairs first and take the tall hamper from beside the door frame. It’s heavy and there’s no wheels to aid in your struggle. The laundry room is downstairs. Your descent is treacherous, one step at a time as you haul the basket down step by step. If Mr. Laufeyson is there, he can’t happy with the noise.

You finally get to the machine and follow the instructions about cycle type and separating colours from whites. However, there is only the bedding to be cleaned. You load the linens in and take a moment to figure out the touchscreen. Your father’s machine has a dial that only works on one setting and gives off a dingy stench.

You leave the basket in front of the washer and retreat to start your usual progression through the urban manse. Mop, sweep, dust, vacuum, polish; hallway, kitchen, dining room, sitting room… Nothing unusual or unexpected.

As you cross the narrow foyer to the den, the sunshine glows a warm orange through the slender windows on either side of the front door. The patterning of the glass reflects prettily on the floor. Despite your best efforts, you can’t help but imagine residing somewhere so brilliant.

You sigh and carry on. You’re sure to open the long drapes to let in the late spring sunshine. It’s not so bad working in the light and you can see where the rare spec of dust is hiding. You go to the tall shelf beside the record player and pull out the albums to wipe beneath them. Music would be jarring in a place always so silent.

You slip the albums back into place, pulling out one to admire the cover; Ane Brun. You’ve never heard of them. You read the track list curiously. You know you shouldn’t be wasting time.

“I don’t believe I’d have anything to your taste on my shelf,” the mocking slither has you pushing the album in line with the rest.

You almost apologise but you remember. You don’t speak. You just clean. So clean.

You glance over at Mr. Laufeyson as he struts in, a book held in one hand as his other is tucked in his pocket. He wears his usual pressed attire; a dark button-up and even darker slacks. You note that he has no tie that day. A single curl dangles by his temple as the rest of his black hair is precisely combed back.

You return to your tasks, gently wiping the cover of the record player and along the stand. You hear the book drop onto the low table before the sofa before his footsteps continue on; closer. He approaches as you get to the next shelf, a collection of EPs in unmarked sleeves.

You wince as he stops near you, flipping up the cover of the sleek record player before stepping back to peruse his selection. You do your best to keep on as he looms. The air is thick and suffocating. Should you go to the next room and come back?

He slips a record free of its sleeve and places it carefully on the players. He moves the needle over and flips the switch, a crackle before the sound drones from the tall standing speakers. Acoustic guitar with a gritty feel to it. The sudden addition of a woman’s voice jolts you; her tone is peculiar but not unpleasant.

When I woke I took the backdoor to my mind And then I spoke I counted all of the good things you are

He backs away without a word. Not an explanation. You finish cleaning the second shelf and dare to glance over. He reads his book on the couch, unbothered by your existence. That isn’t too unfamiliar.

You finish the space but leave the vacuuming for later. You wouldn’t want to ruin the music. You go into what you can only call a sunroom. The french doors peek out onto the garden and a patio set with a large dining set in white iron and glass.

The music drifts in and keeps you company. It almost makes the work easier. You make quick work and go to check the washer to switch over the load. Once you have the dryer figured out, you begin on the second floor.

It’s only as you come out of one of the guestrooms that you notice the silence is returned. You turn down the hallway and near the next door. You enter the study with your usual reverence. Something about the space is intimidating.

The large leather chair with its dimpled back and the even bigger desk; slabs of marble set into polished ebony. Shelves of a similar material, decked out with numerous volumes and the occasional ornament. Some appear even to be genuine artifacts. The rug at the centre is patterned in Persian style.

Behind the desk are a set of doors that open onto a balcony. The drapes are drawn shut. You find that is often the case. It’s a sombre and dark space hidden from the bright gardens without. Your tasks here are minimal. You use the hand vacuum and dust the shelves. You aren’t to touch the desk at all.

A shadow startles you as you drag the cloth along the edge of the bookshelf. Your eyes round and you look over as Mr. Laufeyson enters. You blanch but he doesn’t acknowledge you. He sighs and goes to the desk, sitting in the chair and wheeling it closer. You narrow your sights on the shelves; focus.

You feel a tremble but quickly shake it away. This is his home, he must be able to exist within it, but this feels strange, almost deliberate. Is he trying to make some point? To scare you? You remember the mention of those who came before you. Did they quit or did he dismiss them? Regardless, you can’t afford either.

It isn’t that difficult to follow the rules. Don’t speak? You haven’t much to say. You get closer as you advance along the shelves to the back of the office. He lets out another long exhale. His chair creaks, once, twice, and again.

“Hm,” he rolls back and swivels, an action you observe from the corner of your eye. He tuts and wheels back to the desk, resuming tapping on the keys of his slender laptop. The glow limns his silhouette sinisterly.

You rustle the drapes as you pass them and cross to the opposite shelves. As you brush over the spines of the books, you nearly drop the cloth. His low hum frightens you as he mimics the same melody that played from the speakers below. His tone is deep and sonorous, even delightful.

You squeeze the cloth and pause before regaining your composure. This cannot be a coincidence. The camera and now he’s following you. Or so it seems. Does he distrust you? What reason have you given him?

You are mindful to wipe down the bronze statue of what you assume is a viking warrior. You place it back staunchly, making sure your work is entirely visible to him. You are honest and you like to think you do your work well. Or at least, you try to. Perhaps if he sees that effort, he won’t be so suspicious.

As you head for the door, he quits his humming. His chair squeaks again.

“You are rather more thorough than the last,” he muses.

You stop and turn your head. You nod. He’s baiting you to break his number one rule.

“And you take orders well,” he adds blithely, “that is rare these days.” He taps a key again, “as you were.”

You take the dismissal in stride and flit off to your next task. It isn’t much, maybe only a statement of fact, but it’s something. He isn’t unhappy with your work. So far, neither are you.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #marvel #mcu #thor #avengers

286 notes · View notes

afreakingdork · 29 days

Text

Spring Break

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader One-Shot

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, POV Second Person, Friends to Lovers, Human/Turtle Relationships (TMNT), Yearning, Romance, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, One-Shot

Synopsis: You're on your first spring break of college and returning back home to NYC. Donnie has agreed to pick you up from the airport and the season of change is ready to exercise its rights upon your friendship with him.

Also available on Ao3

I cannot thank @tmntxthings enough! She took my half formed plot bunny and helped me finish it up and embellish it with the cutest ideas!! This fic would not exist without her and she gets my endless affection! 💞

Plane descent, it was the one part of flying that really felt like a roller coaster. With its little dips and adjustments, your stomach would rise in turn. It made some sick, but you found it exciting. It was a manifestation of coming home. With each drop in altitude you were a little bit closer and, no matter how people felt about plane rides, the excitement was palpable. Even those tired and exhausted, ready for their changeovers, were glad for a moment on the ground.

This was your stop and you were especially excited for what waited for you.

Clinging to your phone, there was a final announcement and you looked out the window. Watching fields and houses grow closer and closer, your heart alternatively soared. Ants took on definition and eventually you were doing the careful careen through buildings to land in LaGuardia. With a squeaky landing that jarred your body, people stood through the taxiing process which prompted fights with flight attendants.

You were back in New York City.

A fervor running throughout the plane, there was still the docking process and each second ticked by through syrup until you got a text.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: I am at the appropriate baggage claim.

It was a new entry in a sea of others that had you momentarily closing your eyes. You then typed out a response about what you’d endured since landing and Donnie kept you occupied with messages right up until it was time to deboard. Bumping and jostling and giving appropriate glares back, you were soon just shy of running down a tunnel. Just like descent, you were closing in by the moment and once you broke free from a certain pair of doors, you paused only to take stock. It was fate, you thought, that people parted and there he was.

Donatello stood bundled up both for some kind of anonymity and the early spring weather. A balmy cool outside, trees were clinging for a bit more warmth before they burst with color. You were going to miss the blossoms this time around, but you had a lifetime of watching the petals dot the otherwise dirty streets before. You always liked this season. There was a sense of change in the air. A metamorphosis, you saw not just the growth between your youth and now, but everything from the last half year.

You were offered a full ride to a school all the way across the country.

You accepted and left behind everything.

The long days of your first semester would have been lonely if not for a certain purple coded turtle offering to marathon shows with you online.

You texted in the cafeteria until you found your crowd.

You continued to message him because he had to know the latest gossip.

A webcam was sent to you as a gift so you could better work on projects together across multiple state lines.

You clung to Donnie as a virtual lifeline through your first set of finals.

The Christmas holdover in California due to a lab opportunity had been a daunting choice.

It was made all the better as you were given a digital spot at the Hamato family table during Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Then came another bout of studying for midterms.

All to now, where he’d offered to pick you up after something had come up with your parents and you had complained of the taxi fare on your spring break budget.

You were in motion.

In fact, you were barreling towards him. He heard the footsteps, but didn’t connect them to your person as he looked up. Now knowing the source, he jammed his phone in his pocket and took on a sort of prepared alarm. Then, at the last second, he pivoted a foot out. A careful rotation, he lowered his stance into a readied one. It was all the confirmation you needed as you leapt.

He caught you at the same time for the hug and you crushed yourself to him. Momentum should have knocked the air out of you, but he swung. Your body twirled up with your heart and, by the time you were set down, you were groping to get more of him. This was new, you remembered. His scent wasn’t like coming home. You’d never been close enough to really get a whiff. Clinging to his worn hoodie didn’t crop up memories of softness because you had at most brushed it in passing.

You’d known this mutant for seven months and this was your first hug.

You wanted more.

Your only saving grace was he appeared to feel the same. For each tug, to get your arms tighter around his neck, he gave equal pressure around your waist. As you butted your head to his, he clawed into your own jacket, trying to get you that much closer.

It was warm.

It was overwhelming.

You didn’t want to let go.

“Hey.” You murmured against him.

“Greetings.” His voice responded. “How was your flight?”

“Good. Boring. Long.” You nuzzled closer.

“A full work day’s flight.” Donnie hummed, amused.

“Thanks for picking me up. It’s good to see you.”

Finally, after what must have been too long, Donnie pulled back enough to view you with a chide. “You as well.”

A little shy, your arms slipped to rest against his plastron and an announcement interrupted citing luggage. A quick check found you were at the right carousel and you sent Donnie a wry look. “We’re in the right place.”

“I was clear about my location.” He playfully rolled his eyes and reluctantly relinquished you to approach the long luggage circle.

You followed close behind and bumped arms with him. “Oh, there was this lady who would not stop yaking about the toast squares she got in that plane snack mix.”

“Ah, yes, the snack gacha.” Donnie chuckled and bags began to drift down the line.

He explained the odds and you walked him backwards through your trip. There was a gap from when you’d set off for your flight until arrival. He’d been on a video call when you’d packed your suitcase so when said luggage came winding down the metal slide, you didn’t need to say a thing. He knew it and hoisted it up where you shouldered your backpack. You’d returned with mostly things to wash, but you figured that was part of coming home.

You soon drifted away from the building. Working through the bustling drop offs zone, you headed to where Donnie had sequestered one of his vehicles. Parking cost too much for the tank, he settled on something visually low key though the interior was just as technologically stacked as the others. It was a resistance in temptation to press buttons on the dash you had never seen. They felt familiar as he’d taken you on a phone tour when he completed retrofitting the van, but it felt different in person.

Conversation took you home and, before you realized it, you were idling on the street.

Time had slipped through your fingers like water and you hadn’t cupped enough to drink. There’d even been traffic, you’d sat through it, but it hadn’t prolonged the journey. You were due inside. Your parents were waiting. You also would need to leave Donnie. He’d only ever been here to give you this ride. Heart sinking regardless, you moved to give Donnie your regards with a forlorn tilt of your head.

“Let me help you with your bag.” He rushed the statement.

Your eyes met.

You were both a little too eager to delay the inevitable.

“Thank you, I’d appreciate it.” You told him though your heart wanted to ask him over for dinner.

You’d already skipped coming home for winter break and there was no way your parents would allow an interloper to impede on catching up with their child.

You were required to spend time with them first, then friends.

Duty was a strange thing. It brought you home to mom even though you were an adult with a supposed choice. It had your friend hoisting your stuffed suitcase out of the back of a van where you had created the burden of the heft. You clicked up stairs, your luggage wheels hopping steps and Donnie felt the need to fill the space as if he were required to keep from giving you a moment of quiet.

You were thankful.

You didn’t want to think of how you’d miss him.

Again, he’d felt the same.

You liked that about him.

Reaching your door, you knew you hadn’t messaged your parents for this same reason.

It was your own coveted surprise amongst what you had to do.

Donnie was careful in carting your suitcase up silently.

It felt like a stolen moment. “We still on for Wednesday?”

“Yes.” He nodded and pulled up a ninpo calendar for the sake of it. “Mikey has forewarned Señor Hueso and if you make April wait a moment more, I think she will strangle whoever is closest.”

“Of course.” You bobbed your head and felt the reminder of the knob.

You needed to go home.

You needed to see your parents.

You hadn’t seen them in so long.

You hugged Donnie.

Slower this time, you still moved quick enough that you avoided the awkward shuffle. It was an instant threading of bodies where you had to stave off a sigh. You fit so well without practice and his toned arms slung so comfortably around your waist. You bumped your head to his for the sake of closeness. He stilled and you thought it too much until he turned his beak to nuzzle the side of your head. From his inhale, he was catching your smell so you openly breathed him in the same.

Then you came apart, heads down, unable to bear to see the other leave as you mumbled out promises of seeing each other soon.

Donnie left by the sound of stairs and you unearthed your key to head inside.

Wednesday couldn’t come soon enough.

The rest of your Saturday had been a flurry of catching up with your folks. You were pelted with every question under the sun and the few phone calls with them you’d had throughout the school year seemed to have never happened. Your parents remembered none of the details no matter how much you whined about how you’d already told them about your class load. You were struck with backhanded comments about missing the holidays and how this cousin had proposed and that nephew had gone skiing and would you believe the tan your aunt got?

Then came sleeping in your old bed which was now a foreign one.

You called Donnie with your headphones on and he answered after only one ring.

Unable to stand the odd sheets, you curled up beside your window for faint outdoor light and watched Donnie on screen eat snacks as you unloaded about how annoying it all was. You loved your parents, but it was always something. He took his time in the conversation after your most heated complaints were air cooled and then subjected you to his own. His family’s separation anxiety was on another level, but he never made it a competition. You instead felt commiseration, even if the comparisons were outlandish.

Exhaustion took you to bed and the old smell of you drifted up like one you didn’t recognize. You were just tired enough to mention the discrepancy and Donnie made a comment on how you’d changed. You weren’t sure you had as you hadn’t felt like it, but you guessed of anyone, he would know best.

How had that come to be?

Your best friend was here and someone you’d known since elementary school. You still loved them, but they’d fallen to a certain wayside once Donnie appeared. Meeting him had been an accident at best. From senior year finals, you’d picked up a local coffee shop as your own. During summer, you switched to drinks for fun instead of necessity and a new barista started that you liked. She was great at conversation and better at upsizing drinks with a wink so you always made sure to tip. There came a day when you forgot to have cash on hand and you promised to come back by to fork it over. Now on a first name basis, April had scoffed it off, but you still returned after making change at a nearby bodega. It hadn’t been more than 20 minutes and yet she had disappeared. You waited for her to return from break only to notice a mutant was similarly off to the side and one you’d come to find was waiting for the same April.

That was early August.

You’d gone to UC Berkeley in early September.

That was less than a month knowing the turtle in person.

Now you were drifting off to Donnie complaining about how he’d been found sneaking into East Laird’s lab yet again.

He just needed access to one chemical.

They wouldn’t miss it.

He’d doctored the supply sheets himself.

The janitor was paranoid.

You giggled and it must have come too late because he ordered you to sleep.

You told him you missed him.

In truth, you did.

He murmured the same along with a mention of Wednesday.

It wasn’t here yet.

Texting helped as Sunday led straight to a family meal with whoever was in town. You rehashed the exact same stories about school more times than you could count. Your scholarship was both held up like a heavyweight champ’s belt while others spoke to you like you were some Hollywood convert. It didn’t matter that there were six driving hours between the two places. You’d betrayed some inane state pride by going to a far flung college and whether that was a success or pompous choice was your family’s to debate.

You went to bed so angry afterward that you broke your 125 day streak of saying goodnight to Donnie.

You woke up under your old ceiling.

Breakfast reminded you of high school.

Dad had work.

Mom had lunch.

She talked and you listened.

You saw your best friend in the 3 o’clock doldrums.

It was awkward until it wasn’t.

It took about an hour, but you fell in line to your old pattern.

You meant to message your bestie more, but college had taken both of you in different directions.

Who’s this guy you keep mentioning?

Donatello, was it?

Did you meet someone?

What a story that was and it came with a growing smile from your best friend. Each passing word felt like guilt off your lips and you were teased mercilessly.

No, stop that! We aren’t dating!

Why would you ask?

It’s perfectly normal to help a friend out like he did.

Yes, we’re close.

Not that close.

He’s a nice guy.

Yes, really nice, what are you insinuating?

It wasn’t like that.

You wanted to call Donnie on your way home.

Your best friend’s words kept you from it.

Tuesday your dad had off from work and, though they took you, you ended up showing your parents around Prospect Park. Where they’d only heard it was nice, you had seen enough from social media to actually maneuver it. You picked a restaurant they hated and then a bakery they loved. You were nagged incessantly and then pestered.

Tell us about your new college friends!

You don’t sound like you have many, what happened?

Oh, whos’ that?

Tell me more!

Are they nice?

Go to any crazy parties? We won’t judge.

They did.

They judged everything.

You kept Donatello’s name out of your mouth, though he appeared with each question.

He kept you sane.

He had been there for you.

He made things better.

You texted him as you ran to a bathroom stall for a moment of peace.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Hard to go back after your taste of freedom?

It was such a him response.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Tomorrow, you’ll have us.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Don’t worry.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: Until then, say the word and I can call you away with a lab emergency.

Donatello, not to be confused with the famous Italian Sculptor: I know the codes for several. Do not ask why.

It helped as you rejoined your parents.

One more day.

Wednesday morning and afternoon were tedious affairs with little to do outside of the dreaded laundry. You aired and disinfected your suitcase and ended up cleaning for the sake of it. It made your mom happy and you prepped ingredients for your parent’s dinner even though you wouldn’t be partaking. It would be another nicety in hopes that they wouldn’t say a word when you stayed out late.

It wasn’t like you had a curfew, but you knew the biting remark would be there.

You left just before your parents got home so you sent messages to both of them to cover your bases. Their sent confirmation was like a final school bell and you were running down stairs at an alarming pace. Donnie’s text window appeared next and you shot out a message about your imminent arrival. You felt a buzz in response and wound an oddly familiar path to the necessary sewer grate. One prepped for access to the turtle’s tunnel, you climbed down and only then brought up a map. Above was one thing as you knew your local streets, but the journey below was one you’d never had time to memorize. Donnie’s map was clear and as you switched from sewer to subway lines, you soon came to the brighter lights of the lair.

The Hamato were piled in the living room and you saw Donnie amongst the bale.

He smiled, but it was Mikey who wrapped around you.

Your name was shouted and it summoned the others who hadn’t been paying as much attention. You got friendly pats, several more squeezes from Mikey, one bear hug from April, and a litany of pelted words from the others. Leo’s Hollywood comment didn’t sting as much because he pulled it out in a reference to Son in Law. He did a pretty good Pauly Shore impression and your praise had him pulling out more impersonations. As the chides and jokes flew, you thought about how they hadn’t pelted you with a million and one questions about your college life. They cared little about class and only if you’d had time to catch any local movies or shows.

You nearly wept at not having to talk about only the studious side of your life and you got to share a movie you recently streamed with Donnie. The others hadn’t known either of you watched it and you both excitedly regaled them on reasons not to without spoiling anything. You laughed about a plot line of having been plucked from their environment and joked about red squirrels. Donnie responded in kind about grey and you both laughed until you realized you were the only ones.

“What’s that about?” April asked where she was folded over a couch beside Raph.

“O-oh, it’s-!” You choked on giggles and held onto Donnie’s arm since he was close.

“You see, there was this inane test question that kept coming up.” Donnie filled in for you.

“Non-native grey squirrels have basically put native red ones on the endangered list!” You spoke with too much levity for the topic.

“Now this is a known ecological issue, but the way the professor framed the question…?” Donnie shook his head with a smile.

“He made it out to be like a gang war! So-so Donnie made this joke because they always, freaking always run out of breakfast in the caf when I get out of my morning class about my territory being disrupted!” You giggled.

Donnie bumped you to chastise. “Wait, you’re leaving out your classmate who runs to beat you there, your grey squirrel!”

“Omigosh! I don’t even know her name!” You cracked up.

“You’ve yet to mention the actual campus grey squirrel!” Donnie pressed.

You laughed harder. “Omigosh, he hates me and anyone that goes near his door on South Hall!!”

You both hurled more examples that fit into your branching squirrel joke and you thought everyone was having a good time until Raph’s voice cut through. “Sounds like a good inside joke.”

You weren’t immediately sobered, but your giggles grew strange.

“Yeah, I’m not getting it, but hey that happens.” Leo shrugged. “Squirrels aren’t my first comedy punching bag.”

“They’re cute! What do you mean they kill each other!?” Mikey had a watery expression. “To extinction!? How could they!?”

April patted his back. “It’s a dog eat dog world.”

“Is that why we were the Mad Dogz?” Leo looked to Raph.

“No, but I’m going to say yes.” Raph shined back a snaggletoothed grin.

With that the others moved on.

Suddenly feeling painfully self-conscious, you shirked and felt that Donnie’s hand behind your back.

You looked up at him and he had a grin and whisper waiting for you. “These dum-dums don’t know good comedy.”

“You are the funny one.” You softened up and, in an instant, felt reassured.

He pressed lightly for you to join the room and you jumped back into the conversation which had moved onto pigeons. A hotly debated topic, you took sides and spouted facts you had learned in class. Memes were then shared and eventually you went to Hueso’s. The rowdiest table for what was a comical argument about whether they were his favorite customers, the skeleton yokai refused to answer and only spoke of cash spent and tabs to be paid. Leo chased the man into the kitchen to be his usual intrusive self and you stayed present in table conversation the best you could.

It was difficult when Donnie kept sending you reaction images based on said speech and you found it impossible not to reach right for your phone so each joke would land fresh. It eventually meant both of you were side by side texting on another and it was only when the food came did you jar out of it.

“Can’t leave your significant others for even a second?” Mikey jeered before he tapered off. “Though I kind of thought it was you that Donnie was texting… But that’d be weird right!? You’re literally sitting together, why text?” He laughed.

Others laughed.

You and Donnie didn’t.

It spurned April to steal Donnie’s phone.

Some kind of betrayal, Donnie nearly flipped the table to get it back, but the flash of screen April had seen was enough.

You two were outed and ruthlessly drilled.

This was supposed to be fun, you thought to yourself as you tried to field lobs. They weren’t supposed to be rude like your family and yet you were back to fending vultures off.

Yes, you spent hours talking.

No, you weren’t dating.

Yes, you texted.

No, it wasn’t because it was a secret conversation.

Yes, you were just friends.

No, you weren’t more.

It was only when Leo reappeared and saw the distress mounting on you and Donnie did he step up in his leader position and caught the table’s attention by the throat. He laid out a new topic in the form of recent battles and that conversation took the heat off. You sighed into the booth, feeling particularly drained and when Leo shoved in to have more seat, it bumped you right into Donnie.

Donnie made room, but his hand stayed on the seat, close to yours.

You tapped a questioning finger to his.

Your heart was heavy.

Were you wrong?

Was your friendship weird?

Donnie had gotten you through moving across the country.

Donnie had done so much.

You really, really liked him.

His finger curled around yours for reassurance.

You’d asked once hadn’t you?

Something about if you bothered him early on since you talked just about constantly.

Donnie had scoffed by saying the word itself and told you that he put forth as much effort as he cared to.

You’d be the first to know if he was displeased.

He’d been honest.

When you complained about a science he liked, he didn’t care how hard the class was, you got an earful.

One of the few times you’d tried to use him as an excuse not to study, he’d hung right up and temporarily blocked you so you’d be forced to.

Your hands moved and, with a rush of your pulse, you tucked your other fingers up and over his.

He held your hand with one and ate pizza with his other as if nothing strange had occurred.

You did the same and spoke more normality by responding to something Mikey said.

It was taken with its own retort and everything felt right.

“I’m stuffed!” April flopped back and her jacket slunk down lazily on her shoulders.

“Can’t… move…” Raph groaned.

“That’s what happens when you are here for four hours and thirty seven minutes ordering non-stop.” Hueso commented as he picked up several empty pizza trays.

“One for the road?” Leo burped.

“Depends…” Hueso cracked a brow and slid over the check.

Leo flicked his eyes down once and then over to his tablemates where everyone dodged the question.

“Maybe next time.” Leo spoke guilt and Hueso hummed knowingly as he departed. “Split time! Cough it up!”

Complaints were loud as all sorts of money was deposited on the table.

“I love and hate catching up!” Leo crooned once an appropriate amount was placed.

“We were literally here four days ago.” Raph didn’t have the energy to eye his brother.

“Bah!” Leo swung a lethargic arm and it flopped on the table.

“No more pizza for… four more days…” Mikey grunted.

“Heh, you guys’s diet sucks.” April chuckled and fell over into Mikey on purpose.

The youngest squeaked and dominoed into Raph who shouldered the weight without moving.

“We’ll see you again, what? Friday, right?” Leo craned his head toward you.

Leo was dismissing you.

It was late.

This had been the plan.

Two days.

Donnie squeezed your hand.

You had never let go.

“Well…” You tried to respond.

“You know!” Donnie cut through conversation as if he hadn’t heard how it was coming to a close. “Remember how we weren’t able to find Jupiter Jim and His Majesty Cromslor anywhere online?”

The table quieted and you looked to Donnie curiously. “Oh yeah… We missed it in our marathon.”

“I purchased a copy then, but it only came in a few days ago.”

“That took…” You flicked up a few fingers to count. “Months!?”

“Oversees. Probably a boot leg, but it does indeed work.” Donnie smiled at you.

You felt a flutter in your gut. “We should-”

“Watch it now?” His brows bobbed. “Well everyone?” Donnie looked out, carefree to his inebriated brethren. “Movie night?”

“I’m sleeping!” Raph announced. “Don’t wake me and we’re good.”

“But Don…!” Leo’s head fell onto where his arm was still on the table.

“I could watch.” Mikey’s shoulders bobbed beneath April.

“I’m out. Got work.” April yawned.

“Then it’s settled.” Donnie turned back to you. “Not that we needed permission.”

You chewed on a giggle. “Can’t wait.”

Everyone else dragged themselves back to the lair, but you and Donnie took up the rear as you discussed some lab work. Delving into the study you’d monitored over winter break and what came of it, you were soon sat around the projector where Splinter was asleep in his chair. Raph used the last of his energy carting his dad off to bed and Mikey settled into a bean bag with commands to turn his head towards the screen. Leo helped in that matter and set himself up with his phone in hand to hang out more than watch. You and April said your goodbyes and then Donnie joined you on the couch. Raph didn’t return until well past the first quarter of the movie, but didn’t seem to mind as he flopped down to watch a film presumably the family had seen many times before.

The room was filled with the quiet sounds of the movie until Donnie leaned into you. Your shoulders brushing, he whispered to you a fun fact about the movie that gave way to more. With your head turned against the cushion, you eventually stopped watching the film to instead stare at him. He was enthralling. His lips moved with specific enunciation that you knew came from his love of pizzazz. He topped it off with eloquence from IQ and his flair was infectious no matter how emotionless he tried to present himself.

You adored him.

The credits rolled and there was light after movie discussion where you all found Raph had fallen asleep as promised. Donnie regaled you in his theories on how this movie affected the larger Jupiter Jim universe while he threw a blanket over his older brother. Leo pitched in a few notes about his comic knowledge, but no matter how obsessed the Hamatos’ were in this film series, there was still a limit of how much conversation could be shared.

“Welp!” Leo announced, coming down from a stretch.

That was the second final call of the night.

You had already overstayed your welcome.

You pulled out your phone to text your parents.

Donnie touched your wrist. “Before I forget, I finished my latest project. That targeted hearing device.”

You slowed. “Oh yeah, were you able to work out that model on how it decides what to filter?”

“Yes, in fact, I had a breakthrough-!”

“You finished that two nights ago right? When you were pacing in that fit?” Leo interrupted.

Mikey perked up. “Oh yeah, you were so upset, but you wouldn’t say why! If it was just because you were doing your usual tech walk things, then why not tell us?”

Donnie had obvious guilt and raised his hands.

You stared.

Two nights ago was when you hadn’t been able to text him goodnight.

You were in motion and interjected yourself with force into the fray. “Show us!”

Leo and Mikey looked at you curiously.

You tried not to balk. “It was for you guys too! It will help you gather intel on missions!”

“I thought it was just for your goggles or business people who never take their Bluetooth out, even at dinner parties?” Leo quizzed Donnie.

“The applications are wide ranging! Why do you think I patented it?” Donnie held his head haughtily and headed toward his lab.

The line there went first Donnie and Leo paired where Donie was putting his all into convincing Leo of his inventions use and then you and Mikey who trailed behind in a conversation of your own.

You weren’t sure, but you thought the blue brother glanced at you twice.

Mikey regaled you on a video game he had recently beat and, by the time you entered the lab, Donnie was in full presentation mode. A space you had only been in virtually, Donnie walked everyone to where the buds were and tried them on Leo first since he was the naysayer. They proved to work nicely as you and Mikey played examples by moving around the lab to make noise for the technology to hone in on.

You remembered locations from your guided tour, but definition had been sparse over the phone. Now here and moving about, gadgets kept catching your eye. Donnie explained them with quips from his brothers about use or malfunction. You heard all manner of stories and saw a part of Donnie you had yet to see. Donnie was quick to hang up if his brothers tried to intervene, but he was no stranger to complaining about them. You felt like you knew them better than you did because of it, but seeing the brothers in action was something else entirely.

They carried through, soon fatiguing of reminiscing and giving space for Donnie to show off his more successful tech. He shined, putting his best foot forward in a way you assumed he prepared for investor meetings. He eventually let you examine his bo staff and demonstrated how it could be reformed within his ninpo. He was detailing how his schematics process had changed since acquiring his mystic powers when Leo suddenly yelled up to the ceiling.

“Nope! Beep, beep, beep! Hear that? That’s my brain at full capacity! No more! No more science for Leon! Honk-shoo! Bedtime alarm.” Leo threw his arms up and seemed ready to spin around to leave before he caught sight of you. “Great seeing you, by the way. We’ll be seeing you, but not again tonight! Later, losers!”

You all watched Leo walk out.

Mikey saw his own chance to pull away.

The youngest did nothing distinctly, but you could tell he was ready to head to bed himself.

You had been together for hours now and it was definitely the AM of the next day.

You needed to text your parents.

You needed to go home.

You’d see Donnie again.

You had one last time before you flew back across the country.

You got your phone in hand and messaged your parents to check in.

“Michael.” Donnie held his own anxiety.

That meant both remaining brothers were ready for you to go.

Having already proved to your parents you were alive, you moved to next pen a message about how you’d be home soon.

“Huh?” A bubble popped on Mikey’s attention.

“Have you checked the time?” Donnie moved away from you.

Looking up your screen found the time at 2:47am.

“Oh ho!” Mikey sang with scandalous purpose.

You paused and looked up to see him sporting a huge grin.

“I get what you’re putting down, brotha! It is the one and only reserved time for my most exclusive dish!” Mikey moved fluidly through a few poses.

“Yes.” Donnie looked pointedly at you. “You might have heard of it.”

You blinked a few times not realizing some kind of ploy was in motion. “Special time…?”

Sliding to the right, Mikey’s whole body dipped below his raised arms. “It is time for my unmatched, out of control, unparalleled 3am dump nachos!”

A memory slapped you across the hippocampus.

You did remember.

Mikey had sprung them on Donnie when he was helping you study for finals last year.

The Mikey of the present then snapped to attention in a business-like manner. “Proprietary reserved and guaranteed to eradicate night munchies.”

Your phone buzzed and beckoned with annoyed responses from your mom.

You’d thankfully never sent that message about heading back.

She knew you were doing alright, that was enough.

You closed your phone. “Who am I to say no to the clock!?”

“Nacho time!?” Mikey turned to confirm with the last party. “That was what you wanted, right?”

“Yes.” Donnie tried to stave off a certain amount of joy. “Nacho time.”

“Woo!” Mikey started to holler but caught himself off to whisper. “Quieter woo because people are sleeping!”

You all filed down to the kitchen where Mikey took point in commanding his own cooking show. Talking about all his past chip and cheese related mishaps, he walked through pantry staples and what wasn’t for good nachos. Donnie settled in by your side and eventually grabbed a few drinks. The pair of you mingled together, sharing little glances amongst Mikey’s display until the nachos were in the oven for a quick melt session.

“Oh man, this was a great idea.” Mikey looked at Donnie approvingly. “I can’t remember the last time we did 3am nachos.”

You did, but you kept quiet.

“Probably after April’s midnight launch at that movie theater.” There was an air to Donnie that said he was purposefully making something up.

“Eugh, was it one of those ones where they watch like six movies back to back?” Mikey made a face.

“Are those marathons bad?” You asked.

“They are when you can’t pause and do stuff like this.” Mikey gestured around the kitchen.

“Helps to be allowed an oven.” Donnie cocked a brow at you.

“It’s not my fault someone started a fire in the dorms a few years ago.” You shot a smarmy look back.

“Finesse.” Donnie’s fingers came up to floss the word.

“This again!” You rolled your eyes.

“The rules are in place to protect! As long as you don’t violate them obviously, then I don’t see the problem.”

“Your homemade oven thing was way sketchier!”

“You could make it out of all the materials you had on hand! It’s completely safe!”

“Just because one can, doesn’t mean one should!”

“Look! I can recreate it now! You never tried.” Donnie went for a junk drawing and came back with supplies. “The most you needed was wire, then a containment unit, easy enough to build…”

Donnie nearly pressed to your side as he cut and created a wire and then spliced it with a battery. Showing you how to then encase the coils, he asked for your help holding something in place. You did so and he eventually came around with electrical tape to bind his creation. He complained about how soldering should be allowed if hot glue guns were. You spoke against that point and your hands brushed. He scoffed at live flames and slipped his arm through yours in lieu of reaching for a piece of plastic that had rolled away. You pressed into him and told him that with that logic you could simply weld.

“Couldn’t you?” Donnie’s face was near yours.

“I’d need…” You reached up and his cheek tipped into your hand as you activated the release on his goggles as you’d seen him do on video.

His lenses came down and you were close enough to see through them to his eyes beneath.

“… something like this.”

“I see… Safety first…” Donnie murmured, leaning in.

“Mhm…” You mirrored him.

A timer dinged and you jolted apart.

“3am nachos!” Mikey came around with oven mitts as if oblivious. “After hearing both your arguments, I’m gonna go with no homebrewing ovens in the dorms. It looks like you’re building a bomb.” He set the tray down and the smell was undeniably delicious.

You might have enjoyed it more had your heart not been pounding out your ears.

“To the uneducated, perhaps!” Donnie grumbled and looked over the spread.

You moved to better reach and heard Mikey talk about the best constructed bite.

What were you doing?

You had almost kissed Donnie.

If that was what just happened.

Donnie.

You had a nacho in hand.

Donnie.

What you had to label as your newest best friend.

Donnie.

Not a replacement, but an embellishment.

Donnie.

Next to you, the man in question said something about guacamole.

He helped you through your semesters.

You still had 10 more after the current one.

Four total years.

That didn’t include masters which you aimed on getting.

On the other side of the states.

As far as possible in the continental US.

That was only the grand scale.

On a minor one, you’d be back there in only four days time.

You’d barely seen Donnie.

You’d also arguably spent more time with him in just seven months then you had lifetimes with some of the people you still happily called friends, but 90% of that time had been through an internet connection.

Donnie.

A chip entered your mouth and it tasted so good you wanted to weep.

It certainly wasn’t for any other reason.

Mikey’s cooking was that good.

Eating.

Eating was happening.

You tried to tune into what Donnie and Mikey were discussing.

Donnie had put his goggles back up on his head.

His eyes looked pretty as he talked to his brother.

They always seemed lazy in expression, but they caught so much.

They also took in nothing if he didn’t care to look.

He’d been looking at you.

Right through that red and blue glass.

The make-up of purple.

Mikey hummed an exhausted note. “Oh man… 5am already? Sun’s gonna be up soon…”

“That late?” Donnie asked absently.

At least your parents had gone to bed and wouldn’t hassle you.

They might because you were absolutely going to get home after they woke up for the day.

That was less than ideal.

You also had lunch plans.

What were you doing?

“I’m hitting the hay!” Mikey announced even though you were sure he’d said other things. “Hug for the road!”

Mikey hugged you and you were sure you hugged back.

“Finish those off or whatever. They don’t keep so toss ‘em! Night, D!”

“Night.” Donnie spoke.

Alone.

You were alone with Donnie.

You’d been avoiding this hadn’t you?

Both of you had.

“Still hungry?” Donnie spoke timidly.

“Sure.” You had barely had any.

You worked through building that perfect bite Mikey talked about and then went for some salsa Mikey had whipped up.

Donnie was right there with his own chip and your knuckles brushed.

You both froze and looked at each other.

You saw it all there.

The budding feelings.

The long distance.

The fear.

The longing.

“It’s too soon…?” Donnie broke away to look at the sheet pan. “Don’t you think?”

You did.

You know you did.

You were weepy as you nodded and ate more than necessary just because the taste helped abate the sadness.

Donnie offered to take you home in his own melancholy.

You’d barely experienced college.

You were so young.

In spite of knowing him so well, it wasn’t enough.

When he pulled over on the empty morning curb outside your apartment, sunlight was peering in on your exchange.

What would you do?

How would you say goodbye?

“Walk me to the door?” You asked.

“Of course.” He put the van into park and turned it off.

You walked side by side in silence up the stoop.

The moment you were both on the same level, you hugged him. Hard into his middle you squeezed him for all he was worth. Not to be outshined, you were similarly scooped. Donnie created a protective outer layer where his face buried down into the top of your head. You both siphoned as much of each other off as you could feeling like it would be the last.

Was that right?

It didn’t feel like it, but for right now it was hard to parse anything.

It was exciting to be close to him.

You hadn’t known when he offered to give you a ride that you’d tackle him right out of your airport gate.

You’d never hugged before that.

You’d never touched at all as far as you could remember.

All of this was sudden.

Too soon.

You rooted your face into Donnie’s plastron. “I’ll still see you Friday?”

“You’ll see me tomorrow if available.”

You blinked up wide right out of his chest.

“You’re on break. I want to make the most of it.”

This time you threw your arms around his neck and he hoisted you up into the hug. You laughed into it until he set you back down and your heads bumped together. Sting moving to cradle, you lingered against one another. You felt more then, how you were rushing. You were jumping to conclusions. You were deciding years down the line before being present in your own moment.

Too soon.

“Dinner.”

“It’s a date.”

You entered your apartment on a cloud nine bubble that even your parents couldn’t pop. It prevailed through your mother’s nagging and you finally catching blissful shut eye. You barely made your lunch appointment with your friend and were disheveled for it. They laughed at you and joked about a rough night. The unsuspecting victim who just happened to ask the wrong question at the right time, you unloaded on them. Not usually the type of friend for long talks, they took it in stride and came out like an MVP.

They gave you advice on how to proceed and shared how they themselves were doing long distance.

It wasn��t for everyone.

You were young.

You needed to prioritize you.

There was also a certain amount of trusting your gut.

All a tricky balance, you came away feeling optimistic and closer to your friend than before.

You also crashed as soon as you got home and had a screaming match with your mom when she returned from work to find you in bed. It was enhanced by you not telling her about your dinner plans, but it all felt like a certain amount of stride. It was par for the course with growing pains of your adulthood and you got yourself gussied up amongst it. Donnie came to get you and you felt whisked away where your dad sent you off in good humor.

You wished he fielded your mom, but you guessed you could only ask so much.

Your date was a romantic one. Dictated by closeness, you counted in touch. There were brushes to the hands that morphed to holds. He’d pressed your back to indicate he wanted to pull your chair out and would eventually pull you to his side when some drunk adults stormed by on the sidewalk. You snuggled close to him during a concession selection and later would rest your head on his shoulder during a movie. Afterwards when you lingered for a walk in twinkling night lights you spoke your feelings into reality and what to do.

You’d wait.

It was too soon.

There was so much more to see.

You didn’t feel sad about anything other than not being able to kiss him when he brought you home.

Those hugs were hard enough to break apart from.

Friday then came and went and this time you felt fully present amongst the Hamato. Sunita and Casey joined for a rowdy bunch and you felt strong enough to take over the entire city. You also were always placed by Donnie’s side whether it be by both your conscious choices or simply your draw to one another which earned some ire. Unlike the last hang out, you were validated and both breezily brushed it off with knowing smiles. That brought more confusion, but any and all were left guessing what your relationship was.

Your family and a huge friend group hangout took Saturday.

Then you packed with Donnie on a video call.

It was just like a week ago, but wholly new.

You wished him a somber goodnight and right before hanging up he asked to drop you off.

You would have to fend off your parents, but you decided you could oblige.

There was little complaint as the next morning your mom asked you point blank who the boy was. You admitted to them the events of the last seven months, mutation and all, which they took in various stages. What your dad heard mostly was your loneliness and how this guy had gone above and beyond to make you feel less so. That was enough for him and in a stern decision, he refused to be moved. It left your mom high and dry outside the marriage unit and she eventually sighed to dreamily say that was why she loved your father.

Comparisons were then made between them and your relationship with Donnie and you shut that down as quickly as you could.

Donnie was then there and in an impromptu parents meeting.

He was surprisingly adept at it and you had a feeling he was aware this would happen. You ended up drilling him on the way to the airport where he admitted he prepared for at least seven possible scenarios regarding him butting in on the airport drop off. He regaled you in them all until you were sick of his preparations and you were at the airport.

He walked you as far as he could.

You hugged.

It should have been scented with desperation, you thought.

Instead, it felt like a promise.

With the same clingy digging, he gave equal pressure to your waist as you gave his head. He clawed your back and you pulled at his mask tails. It caught puffs of laughter from both of you as you drank each other in. You knew his scent now, a specific one you wished to curl up in. You’d remember prolonging time together even when you talked to him on the phone, presumably as soon as you landed. You’d be exhausted and want to shower, but you’d make time. You liked to give it just as he’d do the same.

You parted.

With smiles that were plump with tears unshed, you waved to him and he lingered as long as he could. You thought he even might have continued past that and used his goggles for some x-ray business. In case he did, you metered your steps and kept looking back to send him more grins to log. He probably had a thousand already from the calls or even this week, but you’d give more. You boarded a plane and spring break ended.

Across the country you flew.

Back to school.

Back to work.

Through summer and an internship.

Opportunity and papers.

Talk of job and studies galore.

Late night calls and walls of text.

A flurry of messages.

Arguments.

Cold shoulders.

Apologies.

Fall Semester.

Winter break.

Spring Semester.

Spring break.

Rinse and repeat.

Donnie became your only airport ride. No matter when you came, everyone knew he was designated. It became common knowledge as much as anything else. As much as your friendship, everyone knew that was to be expected.

You grew.

Four years passed.

You found yourself yet again coming into LaGuardia on the cusp of spring. You had plans for furthering education on this side of the country. California had been nice, but Donnie had mentioned a study once that stuck with you. Eight in ten adults lived within 100 miles of where they grew up. It seemed like such a silly statistic four years ago when you’d made your college choice. You weren’t sure if you necessarily understood now, but there was a certain comfort in knowing you’d be in New York for the foreseeable future.

It helped that you grew up in such an amazing city.

What a town, Donnie would say reverent regardless of whether it was bad or good.

Shouldering your bag, you walked out to baggage claim. While the spot may have changed and the man was still growing like a weed, Donnie would still always appear to you between crowd waves. A sort of fate, he’d part pedestrians like the sea and he looked up from where he was tinkering with something on his gauntlet.

A smile spread on his face and he was in motion.

You had to keep up.

A hop and a skip and you collided in a spin. Twirling out for the sake of it, you both murmured affections until he rooted your face out from his shoulder. There he dipped you first for the sake of flair, but brought you up to properly execute what came next.

Your hands tucked behind his neck.

He locked his arms around your waist.

His gaze poured over you.

You tugged him lightly as he was taking his time.

He was hovering, no doubt committing all of this to memory.

You didn’t fault him; you had started dating a few weeks ago.

He’d blurted out the question saying he was unable to wait until spring break or even until you graduated with your undergrad.

You were long past first kiss territory, but this would be the first with the label.

“Donatello.”

“Not to be confused with the famous Italian sculptor.” He staunchly said the same thing he had since the moment he’d first introduced himself.

“Please.”

“Please what?” He jeered.

“Kiss me, dum-dum.” You pulled him as hard as he’d allow and he snuck in a laugh before your lips met.

You would always appreciate this time of year for its change.

💜Follow me or my Ao3 for more fanfiction! Behind the scenes deep dive for this fic and others along with in-depth writing discussions, plot bunnies, and more are available for only 1$ over on my patreon~ 💜

My betas are such champs, they follow me for any type of work! All the love to @tmntxthings (look familiar 😒) and @thepinkpanther83

#me #rottmnt #rottmnt donnie x reader #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #fanfiction #my fanfiction

193 notes · View notes