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#twice actually because I read it once and then again to actually answer it
fairy-angel222 · 1 month
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𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐅 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩
—in which toji is constantly fucking women and disturbing your peace. your complaints lead to you becoming one of them.
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pairing: toji fushiguro x fem! college reader
cw: smut, breeding, daddy kink, size kink, age gap, toji being a cocky prick, unsafe sex, ass slapping, mentions of cervix touching
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Ever since you heard about your next door neighbor Mr. Fushiguro going through a divorce, things have been hell. For you.
From the day he first moved into the apartment, constantly arguing on the phone with his ex wife about whose turn it was to watch his son, Megumi.
When Megumi is over, everything’s quiet, and you finally get a chance to rest your head and relax in peace. Doing some studying and cleaning in the quiet atmosphere.
You wished the black haired boy would stay for just a day longer, because Toji is back to his usual self hours later. Bringing in young college girls one after the other. Fucking them hard against his headboard as they let out loud cries of daddy. It was annoying. You could even stay inside anymore to get work done.
At every hour of the day he seemed to be active, fucking through all sorts of women, the shaking of your thin bedroom wall never coming to an end as high pitched moans echoed through.
It was getting to the point where you couldn’t take it. You were so fed up. Didn’t he ever get tired? Tired of promising these young desperate girls to call them back only to throw away their numbers and fuck their friends the next day.
Weeks go by and nothing changes, Megumi coming over for a silent three days then leaving again. Giving his father enough time to fuck any feelings for his ex wife out of his system.
You swore you couldn’t take it, you had barely been able to study, occasionally spending an hour or two in a nearby café between classes. When you noticed your grades slipping, your eyes having prominent bags at the lack of sleep, you groan loudly in frustration. Finding your legs moving before you could even process it.
Your fist raising to knock on the man’s door once, then twice, with no answer. You huffed, going in to knock a third time before the door swung open. A tall, muscular man towering over you with a scowl. “What?”
Your eyes widened as you scanned over his body, his perfectly sculpted face, broad shoulders, defined abs, and the very distinct outline in his sweats.
The man cleared his throat, a smirk gracing his face when he startled you out of your intense drooling. “Now, what do we have here?” he chuckled deeply, tilting his head to the side with crossed arms as he rested against the door’s frame. “Here to get your turn doll?”
You gulped, finding it harder to spit out your words as the Fushiguro man stared you down. “I.. I’m here to ask you to keep the noise down, some people have actual work to do.”
Toji whistled, “Oh? A bold one huh? I like it,” His hand reaching under your chin to make you look fully up at him. “you’re a pretty little thing you know,” he spoke, running his thumb along your bottom lip, “wonder what you’d look like ruined underneath me.”
You ignored the flutter that went off in your pussy, clenching your thighs discreetly as you glared. “Just keep the noise down okay old man? I'm trying to study.”
Toji could feel his cock grow harder, you were just what he needed. “So i’m an old man now? That’s a first, usually girls like you just call me daddy.” he shrugged, “but it’s okay, you’ll get there.”
You rolled your eyes as you walked away from him, annoyance written all over your face to mask the arousal swirling in your stomach. He’d probably fucked the entire neighborhood by now, including the campus, so you weren’t gonna fall for his sick charms. You just hoped he complied and kept the place quiet, you didn’t need that usual noise the day before your big test.
Toji had surprisingly did as you asked, and you sighed in content as you read through the pages of your notes. Your pen in your hand finding itself in between your teeth as you bit down softly. You got what you wanted, so why was your mind running wild with thoughts of the Fushiguro man’s hands on your body as he fucked you like all of those other girls.
You shifted in your seat, one leg over the other to bring stimulation to your needy clit making you whimper softly. You couldn’t let yourself give in.
Another week passed and you once again found yourself in the same noisy predicament. Your mind couldn’t help but wander to the man more than twice your age. Way too old for you yet just so.. hot. Toji Fushiguro had become your fantasy.
And it was unbearable.
Hearing all these moans day and night. Hearing Toji’s loud grunts and groans as he no doubt left them with the best fuck of their lives.
It was Thursday, and Megumi would be coming tomorrow per routine, so you’d finally get a break then. But, you couldn’t deny the fact that you wanted an excuse to go over there. Your face serious as you banged on his door.
You waited a minute, a shirtless Toji emerging into the door frame as it flew open. Toji smirked, “Ah, you again.” His sweatpants hung dangerously low beneath the start of his v line, black hair messy as his tongue darted out to swipe across his lips. “Finally came to your senses?”
His last fuck had left right before you came, coincidentally of course.
“N-no.” you objected sternly. “I’m here to ask you again to just be.. what are yo-“
You swallowed hard when he began stalking towards you, a sinister grin on his face as you were backed up against a wall. His breath fanned your head as he bent his neck. Hands on the walls near each side of your face. “Your face says otherwise, doll.”
“No it d-doesn’t.. you’re just a cocky old man preventing me from getting things done.”
Toji’s brow raised with a deep hearty chuckle, “Back to that nickname i see,” His hand grabbing hold of your cheeks and squeezing them together. “Gonna have to clean that mouth of yours, teach you how to be a good girl.”
You whimpered lowly, feeling wetness pool between your legs as you looked up through your lashes. Toji’s eyes trailing to your glossy lips as he inhaled sharply. “Don’t worry, this dirty old man’s lips are clean”
Pressing his lips roughly to yours, your eyes widening as you gripped the edge of your skirt with a moan. Toji smirked against your lips, his hands hooking beneath your legs as he lifted you up. Your frame so much smaller in comparison to his larger one.
Toji was quick to bring you inside. And you found yourself sitting on the man’s lap, your skirt bunched up at your hips as he hammered up into your wet cunt with brute force. His hands kneading into the flesh of your ass each time you ground your hips onto him.
You let out a loud mewl, his thick cock stretching you out and grazing against your gummy walls as he fucked you deep. Feeling him within your stomach when you cried out. “Fushiguro-san— ah, so- ngh g-ood.”
“That’s not my name doll, try again.” he growled deeply, landing his palm onto your ass in a hard slap. And you whimpered tearfully at the sting. “T-toji—” Another harsh smack burning through your flesh making you let out a cry. “Last chance.”
You moaned loudly, your back arching as Toji slammed into you. “D-daddy, ahh daddy, o-oh fuckk—,”
Toji hummed in satisfaction, “Look at you, thought i was a dirty old man hmm?” His teeth biting softly at the delicate skin of your neck, his pelvis hitting your red puffy folds relentlessly. “Moaning for me like a little slut, so fucking pretty.”
You let out a shaky cry, “Haah— F-fushiguro-san,” Your pussy clenched down on his girth, his rough hand making its way around your throat, squeezing the sides and forcing you to look at him. “Not gonna fucking tell you again.”
You mewled, “‘M sorry— nngh,” Your back arching when Toji bullied his cock deeper into you.
“Still waiting doll.” he grunted, eyes dark as his grip on your throat tightened, your moans and whimpers loud as his thighs noisily met your sticky cunt. “D-addy— ahh- so good,” you cried, feeling his angry tip forcing its way to your cervix, kissing the entrance with each harsh thrust.
“Good fucking girl, you’re getting there” he grinned with a groan. A creamy ring formed around the base of his cock, your pussy gushing messily onto him as loud squelching sounds filled the room. “Pussy’s so fucking tight— better be on the pill cause i’m botta cum in that pretty pussy, shit.”
“Ah— nngh daddy, ‘m close- gonna cum.” you whimpered, your eyes rolling back and your lips parting in a string of incoherent babbles, Toji’s thrusts sloppy as he groaned.
“Gonna cum on this old man’s dick yeah?” He teased cockily, “Had so much talk for someone who’s falling apart on my cock.” Toji grunted, “Bet ya sat there listening like a lil perv, your hand down your panties hmm?”
You shook your head no with a cry, “Uh uh- ahh— wasn’t.”
“Sure about that? Sure you didn’t sit there and fantasize about me fucking you like a little slut?” His hand reached down to rub at your clit, a loud moan escaping your mouth.
Your breathing sped up as you felt a coil buildup in your stomach. Your body shaking with pure ecstasy. You let out a high pitched scream, the stimulation to your g spot making your head go fuzzy. Vision turning white as you clenched down tightly on Toji’s cock.
“O-oh fuck— ‘m cumming— ah, cumming daddy.” Toji’s hand pressed down harder on your throat, the pressure restricting your air flow making you let out a choked mewl. Tears welling in your eyes as his heavy balls smacked against your ass.
“Nngh—” The ring of white thickened at his base as you let out whiny cries. Toji’s hand working small circles on the sensitive bud before he brought his lips to your ear. His voice deep and gruff as he groaned. “Fuck doll- squeezing me so tight, come on and scream for me.” He breathed, “make a mess on my cock.”
Toji’s mean pace became too much, a tight pull in your stomach as your mouth fell open, legs trembling with loud cries as an unfamiliar feeling washed over you.
It was heavenly, your brain going dumb and your pupils disappearing behind heavy lids as you screamed loudly, head falling back and nails digging into his shoulders as you fell off the edge.
Toji never slowing the movement of his hips, still hammering up into you despite the mess you were making on his thighs. Your pussy spraying streams after streams of clear liquid as you arched your hips, grinding back and forth to ride out your squirting orgasm.
“Even fucking louder than any of my previous fucks.” he laughed, “Wonder what the neighbors would say, went from being a whiny little bitch to being the same thing you complained about.”
You let out a whine, Toji flipping you abruptly onto your back, his hand still around your neck as the position allowing him to hit even deeper. “Fuck,” he grunted, his words in between each thrust. “gonna fucking breed that pussy so deep.” Letting out a low groan at the last thrust, his lips meeting yours in a sloppy kiss as he bottomed out.
A whimper fell past your lips into his when you felt him fill you up, his cum shooting in hot thick spurts along the walls of your cunt.
He smirked as he pulled away, watching you pant heavily. “Would make such a good breeding bunny.” Dipping his fingers past your lips and resting them on the back of your tongue. “Might have to keep you around, can’t be disturbed if you’re the one making the noise now can you?”
You shook your head tiredly, forcing your eyes to stay open as Toji pulled out of you. His sticky cum seeping out of your fluttering pussy slowly. Your brain was still so clouded, blinking in and out of blurry vision.
Toji hid the smile threatening to creep up onto his face, his face neutral as he plopped down onto the couch next to you. “Rest if you need to, then leave.” He said nonchalantly, trying to seem like his usual self despite the fact that he had not kicked you out yet. Which was something he never did, let a girl stay any longer than a second after sex.
The man would never admit it, but there was just something about you.
He wanted to make you his pretty little doll.
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inkskinned · 9 months
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at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"
like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.
"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."
... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.
and i'd still keep writing.
i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.
i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley
"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"
and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.
it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.
you create because you're greedy.
#every time someones like ''AI will replace u" im like. u will have to fucking KILL ME#there is no replacement here bc i am not filling a position. i am just writing#and the writing is what i need to be doing#writeblr#this probably doesn't make sense bc its sooo frustrating i rarely speak it the way i want to#edited for the typo wrote it and then was late to a meeting lol#i love u people who mention my typos genuinely bc i don't always catch them!!!! :) it is doing me a genuine favor!!!#my friend says i should tell you ''thank you beta editors'' but i don't know what that means#i made her promise it isn't a wolf fanfiction thing. so if it IS a wolf thing she is DEAD to me (just kidding i love her)#hey PS PS PS ??? if ur reading this thinking what it's saying is ''i am financially capable of losing this'' ur reading it wrong#i write for free. i always have. i have worked 5-7 jobs at once to make ends meet.#i did not grow up with access or money. i did not grow up with connections or like some kind of excuse#i grew up and worked my fucking ASS OFF. and i STILL!!! wrote!!! on the side!!! because i didn't know how not to!!!#i do not write for money!!!! i write because i fuckken NEED TO#i could be in the fucking desert i could be in the fuckken tundra i could be in total darkness#and i would still be writing pretentious angsty poetry about it#im not in any way saying it's a good thing. i'm not in any way implying that they're NOT tryna kill us#i'm saying. you could take away our jobs and we could go hungry and we could suffer#and from that suffering (if i know us) we'd still fuckin make art.#i would LOVE to be able to make money doing this! i never have been able to. but i don't NEED to. i will find a way to make my life work#even if it means being miserable#but i will not give up this thing. for the whole world.
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luveline · 1 month
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𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝
Spencer calls you drunk and in need of rescue. You confess a few secrets to him while he won’t remember them (or so you think). 3k, fem
cw drunk!spencer, mentioned past drug use, confident/bombshell!reader, flirting, spencer getting some well deserved comfort, a handful of his drunken compliments, insecurity, intense mutual pining
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
You’re blissfully sleeping in the arms of a REM cycle when your phone rings. It pulls you by the chest, a punch of shock and expectancy at once. It’ll be someone calling you into work, Hotch himself if you’re lucky. 
You search blindly for your phone. If you’re even luckier, it’ll be a wrong number. Your fingers curl around the little body of your phone and you bring it to your ear without checking the number, frazzled. “Hello?” you ask hoarsely. 
Total quiet. 
“Hello?” You pull the screen away. The caller reads: SPENCER. You pull it back rather than hang up. “Hey, Spencer. Are you there?” 
“Hello.” He laughs. “Hello, are you there?” 
“I’m here, Spencer, where are you?” 
“That’s an interesting question, actually, and I’m sure there’s a great answer, but…” 
“But what?” You sit up quickly, your throat aching with sleep. Your room is black as coal pitch. “Spencer, what time is it, my love?” 
“You shouldn’t call me stuff like that.” 
“Stop being weird and tell me where you are.” 
He laughs like a hyena. You can see it in your mind, his smile and all his pearly perfect teeth. You love it when he smiles like that and he rarely ever does. “I’m somewhere and I need your help getting home!” he says with another funny laugh. 
“Are you alright? You sound…” He sounds inebriated. 
Spencer struggled with his drug problem for so long before you found out. You just hadn’t been around enough, and when you were he’d gotten good at hiding it. You can still remember how furious you’d been with everyone, including him, because you could’ve helped, would’ve done anything to support him through it. If he’s hurting now and hasn’t told you, you love him, but you’ll be insanely angry. 
“Spencer?” you ask quietly. 
“I went for drinks with a girl but she didn’t like me and I may have drowned my sorrows too much,” he admits. “Um. Did you know gin is very strong?” 
“Aw, baby. You’re cheating on me?” 
“I’m afraid so,” he says, and hiccups. 
“Where are you?” 
After some hassle wherein you persuade Spencer to give the phone to someone else in the bar for a slightly less drunk interrogation, you dress and gather your bearings for the drive. You zip a hoodie up over your pyjamas, stuff your feet into some old converse, and set out into the dark to find him. 
He calls you again as you’re parking. “Hello,” he says as soon as you answered. “I need you to come and get me.” 
Spencer called you twice to save him. Even if he doesn’t remember, he’s called you to come and get him when he knows he needs help, and that realisation is hard to ignore. “Spencer, I’m two minutes away, I’m parking. You’re still where you were?” 
“Where was I?” 
“At the bar, sweetheart. Are you still there?” It’s scarily dark out and you didn’t grab any sort of defensive measure before you came, which you regret now, climbing out of your car to walk the dimly lit road. The bar glows like a beacon to be followed. 
“Still where?” 
“Did you hit your head?” 
“Not to my knowledge. Though I’m not sure I have much right now. I feel like I’m forgetting everything I’ve ever read, and I’ve read a lot. You know I can read about eighty average length novels in one hour on an e-reader? The buttons make it faster.” 
“You haven’t told me that before.” You shiver against the nighttime winds, footsteps heavy on the grey sidewalk. 
“I’m trying to be more conversational. Emily says it’s not working.” 
“You’re conversational. Isn’t the only condition of being conversational to prompt a conversation? We’re always talking.” 
“…What?” 
You laugh like crazy. “Spencer, you don’t need to change the way you talk.” 
“I annoy people.” 
“You don’t annoy me.” 
You approach the door of the bar, a ramshackle sheet of plywood over what looks to be a glass door. The bar building seems in similar dessaray, with modern features wrecked by scratches and smashed panes. It’s a real dive. Spencer couldn’t have meant to come here. 
You war with both hands to open the door and find yourself faced with a long and empty corridor leading to another door. Worried you’re going to get kidnapped, you bring the phone back to your ear, Spencer’s chatting an immediate greeting. “…telling me I’m doing something wrong without telling me what it is, it’s impossible.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, can you come to the door?” 
“I don’t think I have control of my legs,” he says without inflection. 
“It’s definitely the building with the smashed door?” 
“Yesssss. Are you here?” he asks excitedly. 
“I better not get murdered, Spencer Reid.” 
“Am I in trouble?” 
“How are you even keeping the phone to your ear right now?” 
“I’m on speaker phone. Milly showed me how to do it. Say hi, Milly.” 
“Hi Milly,” a new voice says. 
You rub your eyes with one hand and square your shoulders, prepared to defend yourself if the creepy door leads to a creepier room. 
Spencer is immediately visible from the get go. You open the door on to a rather cosy looking bar, which you’re thinking might be the whole point; wretched exterior, secret attraction. Warm orange light ebbs into the space from sconces and a faux fireplace, while a wrestling match playing from the small TV behind the bar casts brighter light down onto Spencer’s shoulders. He looks out of place, dressed in a white oxford shirt and a suit jacket, his tie loosened and hanging from either side of his neck, compared to the lingering patrons who sit dotted around the room in booths and on barstools. One such patron sits in a plaid shirt and a trucker hat, her hair to her back, thick and dark. 
You hang up the call and put your phone in your pocket. Spencer gasps like he’s been smacked and picks his own phone up from the bar, clicking at buttons with clumsy fingers. “No,” he hums sadly. 
“Spencer,” you say, not wanting to disturb the people spending their sorry-looking night here. “Spencer. Hey, Spence!” 
His phone tips between his fingers. The woman you assume to be Milly catches it and offers it back without looking too far from her beer. 
“Hey,” you say gently, crossing a wide empty space to meet him. The room itself is shaped like a horseshoe, the bar taking up a surprising amount in the centre, and booths and tables placed around it. Spencer’s off of his barstool as you approach, eyes like puppy dog’s, arms extended. “You okay?” you ask. 
You can feel eyes on you both from every angle, but it doesn’t matter, not when Spencer’s falling into your arms (or on to them —he’s surprisingly tall when you aren’t wearing heels). “You alright?” you ask again. 
“You don’t have to be worried, I’m fine.” 
He’s less coordinated in real life than he’d sounded over the phone, his slurring unmissable, his hands like jumping fish as he tries to hug you. It’s weird and straining to take his weight but you do it without complaint. He smells the same, at least, only his cedary cologne is sharpened by the tang of gin on his breath. 
“Thank god you’re here,” he whispers. 
“Why?” you ask, pulling away to check for danger. 
“I missed you.” 
“I missed you too, handsome,” you say, genuine but laying it on thick simultaneously as you ease his head back to cup his cheek. You can’t help yourself. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever met, and it gets worse every year. 
He frowns at you deeply. “I don’t like first dates.” 
“Then don’t go on them,” you suggest, “you don’t need to until you’re ready.” 
“I’m ready for love,” he says. You pull your lips into a flattened line, unsure of what to say, how to explain that it’s waiting for him, but his chin dips towards his neck and his eyes lock onto your face. “You’re not wearing makeup. God, you’re so pretty.” 
You flinch away from him. “Fuck, Spencer.”
“I’m sorry! It’s not that you don’t look pretty with makeup, but I never see you without it!” 
You’d forgotten you weren’t wearing any. Makeup isn’t a shield, exactly, but you like putting your best foot forward, so to speak. You’ve no clue what you look like tonight, hadn’t managed to look in the mirror, you’d been focused on getting to Spencer before he got lost. You can imagine the puffiness.
Spencer touches your cheek. You let him turn you mostly because he’s surprised you, his eyes roving up and down your face with a fawning curiosity. 
“You’re beautiful. You know that already, but people don’t tell you enough,” he says, his hand falling from your cheek. 
“Spencer,” you say softly, “let’s get you home.” 
You thank Milly for her help and grab Spencer’s bag from the floor to hang on your shoulder. You’d make a joke about how heavy it was if you didn’t think he’d take it from you, and, considering how drunk he is, topple over from the imbalance it provides. His shirt is clammy where you push your hand through his arm to link them, his footsteps wobbly. 
“I didn’t want to go on a date,” he says. 
“Then why did you go?” you ask, helping him over the door jam into the long hallway. 
“I don’t want to be alone forever.” 
“Spencer, you won’t be.” It doesn’t feel like the best time to bring up how much you like him. You’re sure he thinks you’re kidding, doesn’t everybody? Don’t torture him, they say. Don’t toy with him. Every time you flirt with him the team acts like you can’t mean it, and for a while it worked for you; you weren’t in love with Spencer. You weren’t playing with his feelings, but you didn’t love him, and then you joined the team and got to know him, watched him fluster at every comment you made or under any soft looking and realised you could love him. It was easy to fall for him. You liked doing it. But now he’s determined to write your affection off as a joke and going on dates? 
In the morning, when he’s sober, you’ll have to tell him how you feel. Or you could let him find someone more like him… ugh. It’s such a mess. 
You grapple with the size of your feelings for him as he hums and laughs his way down the hall to the glass door. On the street, he squints and straightens his back, fighting to regain his arm from your hold to cover your shoulder instead. “It’s cold,” he says in surprise. “You okay?” 
“I’m fine, I got my jacket. It’s a short walk, come on.”
His arm stops acting as protection and starts to use you for support. “I didn’t mean to drink so much.” 
“Drowning your sorrows is always a terrible idea because it tends to work,” you lament, less scared of the dark with him at your hip, though what protection he might offer is negated by the alcohol. 
“She kind of looked like you.” 
You squeeze your eyes together quickly. “Oh.” 
“I didn’t know she was going to. But she didn’t– she didn’t– it’s hard to talk. She didn’t listen like you do,” he says, lightly slurring, “she just stared at me like everyone used to in high school. Like she could tell there’s something wrong with me.” 
“Spencer, there’s nothing wrong with you.”
“I know,” he says. 
“Do you?” 
“Yes.” He frowns. “No, I don’t know. I don’t feel like there’s something wrong with me,” —his voice turns to a nearly indistinguishable mumble— “but everyone else always does.” 
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.” 
“Is that why you make all your jokes?” 
“What jokes, babe?” 
“Like that! Like babe. It’s funny ‘cos you’d never date me.” 
You’d slow if he weren’t already walking at a snail's pace. “That’s not true. Let’s talk about it in the morning, okay?” 
“I won’t remember to ask you in the morning.” 
“Spencer, you remember everything.” 
He drags his feet. “I wish I wasn’t so weird,” he whines. It’s playful at the forefront but desperate otherwise, and it gives you pause. “I wish I was normal, and you could like me normal.” 
You look down at your hands, panicking, a flash of Is this a good idea? like an alarm in your head as you turn on the sidewalk to face him. He’s looking at you like he’s begging you to disagree with him. 
You’re happy to. 
“Spencer, I like you like this,” you insist loudly. His eyes and all his sweet lashes track the movement of your hand as you touch your chest, and your neck. “You’re not normal, I’m not normal. Do you know how many times I’ve been rejected? Just for being me? I’m too bossy, too outspoken, too– too high maintenance. I've had friends with good intentions tell me I need to lower my standards, need to relax, because otherwise I’m going to end up alone for the rest of my life. I feel alone all the time.”
“But you’re perfect,” he says, puzzled. 
“To you. And you’re perfect to me.” Your hand crawls to the base of your throat. “So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. You think I’d come and get anybody else in the middle of the night dressed like this?” you ask him, gesturing to your ratty pyjamas and your dingy converse. 
“You look so cute,” he says mournfully. 
You roll your eyes. He’s too wasted for this conversation. “Come on, sweetheart. You can think about this too much in the morning. Let’s just get home in one piece.” Physically and emotionally. 
“Can I come home with you?” he asks. 
That had always been the plan. “Ask me nicely and I’ll consider it on the way.” 
— — 
Spencer shuts his eyes, hands itching to clap over his ears as you scratch the head of a spatula across your frying pan. “Is three eggs too many? People usually have two but that’s never enough for me.” 
“I think…” Oh my god the metal screeching is so loud. “You should have as many as you want. You know your body. There’s this study on intuitive eating…” I'm too hungover for this. “Three eggs is better than two.” 
“So you want three?” 
He cannot eat right now. “Yes. Please.” 
Spencer’s half sick with dehydration and half grief. He stayed at your house last night and he was too drunk to be nosy. He slept in your bed. He slept in your bed. He woke up to you at your vanity doing your hair, the nutty smell of hair oil mixed with the heat of the hair tool on high and realised with a start that he’d missed something he thought about all the time. 
You’d tipped your head back to smile at him. “There’s my boy. Sweet dreams?” 
He didn’t dream, but if he had, it would’ve been another agonising wish where you were his girlfriend, or his wife, or just there looking at him with love. He wakes up feeling sick because it isn’t true. And now you’re making him breakfast, humming a tune under your breath, sourdough sizzling under the grill and a shoddily blended avocado sitting in the bowl in front of him. 
You asked him for one thing. He picks up the fork and starts to mash the avocado again. He can’t fight the foreignness of sitting in your kitchen, a gap in his memory. 
He knows he told you about his date, how she looked like you, how she didn’t seem to like him much, but he’s struggling to collect the finer details. Why had you picked him up? He must’ve called you, but you could’ve said no. He remembers thinking you looked beautiful, but he always thinks that. 
The avocado is making him feel sick. 
“Here,” you say, sliding a plate of toast in front of him. “Do you want butter?” 
“I think I'm gonna throw up.” 
“You’re okay.”
“I can’t believe how I acted,” he says, pressing his palms to the hollows of his eyes. 
You turn off the hob. Fat bubbles and pops until it’s cooled. The clock on the wall by the refrigerator ticks incessantly. His slept-in shirt feels too tight despite the undone button. 
“Hey…” You round the island but don’t touch him, your voice gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 
He drags his hands down his face. “I can barely remember what I said.” 
“You were really nice to me… told me I looked pretty without my makeup, n’ that I was perfect. You were really nice.” 
Your tone is off. No flirtatiousness, no endless confidence, you sound wistful, like you’re glad he said it. You take the bowl of avocado he’s made a mess with and put it aside with the toast, resting your arm on the counter, and leaning into his space. “Spencer, last night? You didn’t do anything to be embarrassed of. You were nice, and kind. You tried to open the car door for me and you almost lost your eye, but you were fine. You don’t have anything to be worried about, really.”
“But it’s you.” 
“Gonna touch your hair,” you say, giving him enough time to move away as you reach out and rake back his fringe. His heart leaps into his mouth. “You said something last night like that, you know? Do you remember that? You said if you were normal.” You grace the skin beside his eye with the tip of your thumb, your perfume floating his way as you move. “And I said–”
“I’m not normal,” he says, remembering now. 
You’re not normal, I’m not normal, you’d said.
But you’re perfect, he’d said. 
To you. And you’re perfect to me.
“Right. We’re not normal, Spencer Reid, so forget that girl. She didn’t deserve you anyways,” you say. 
You draw a short, silken line down his cheek with the side of your pinky. To be touched so lightly has his stomach in knots —he’s not shocked by the swiftness with which your affection can make a bad situation good again. 
You turn away. “Now we should eat before everything goes cold.” 
He watches your shoulders move, and he remembers one last detail. So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. 
The way you’d said it… you couldn’t really mean…
“How’s your appetite? Still feeling sick?” you ask. 
Spencer smiles to himself, the ghost of your touch glowing warm on his cheek. “I’m feeling a lot better, actually.” 
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
thank you for reading!!! please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate anything and it always inspires me to write more<3!! my requests are pretty much always open for bombshell!reader (even though this one strays a bit from their usual story haha) so if you wanna see more let me know❤️
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nnight-dances · 10 months
Text
REPETITION / RARE LOVE
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pairings: kim mingyu x fem!reader (ft. yoon jeonghan)
genre: fluff, angst, suggestive & sexual content
tropes: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers (except mingyu's the only idiot), pining, flirting
warnings: explicit language, banter, alcohol consumption, borderline jeonghan slander but it's okay because i would die for the man, has been proofread by me once but only barely. kazuha (le sserafim) is your roommate, huh yunjin is present.
WHAT TO EXPECT
it's simple enough: you and mingyu are perfect for each other. you've told him as much but after years of him avoiding the topic, you leave him alone. but when your long-time infatuation with jeonghan gets rejected, you have nothing to distract you from your desire to be with mingyu. all it takes is you making out with the wrong person and a can of beer for mingyu to come to his senses. (about 11k)
OR: maybe you don't hate repetition as much as you claim to.
SEQUEL OUT NOW!
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“why are men on tinder actually vile?” you question out loud, not quite expecting an answer as your eyes continue to read the offensive opener you’d received from a recent match. mingyu, who’s crouched on the desk across from you, frowns.
“y/n, we’re meant to be studying,” he points out, “but also i thought you were over tinder?”
you look at him blankly, “i am! i just gotta finish what i started you know…”
mingyu looks deeply disappointed in you and you slide your phone across to him, “look at this message i just got! it’s disgusting! i don’t need to know if someone’s wet at the thought of—”
“god, y/n, do you have to scream?” he asks as he takes hold of your phone, busying his fingers probably with blocking the guy. you momentarily look back at your screen where the black document meant to be the outline for your final art history paper taunts you.
you sigh, looking down at your phone when mingyu returns it. “i paused your account and deleted the app.” you sigh yet again, “man! if you were gonna uninstall it without my permission you should’ve just deleted my account.”
“you’d just make another one anyway,” he shrugs, “plus, this way when you go back you’ll remember why you left in the first place.”
you grumble something under your breath but resume your attempts at writing. mingyu smiles a little as he goes back to his own work. a beat passes before, he puts his pen down again and when he sees you’re staring at your screen distantly, he asks, “did you talk to jeonghan yet?”
you gasp at the mention of your years-old crush, glancing around you as if you weren’t in a private study room (because apparently the only way either of you could get anything done was while talking to each other). “what?” mingyu continues, “one of us had to address the elephant in the room.”
“wow, you’re just the worst friend ever, aren’t you? it’s like you can’t read rooms at all. i clearly did not want to talk about jeonghan.”
“well, now you are. so you might as well be honest with me. did you think about confessing to him?”
you deflate, stomach suddenly uneasy, “no. i don’t think i will. i don’t need him to know.”
“you kinda do. y/n, look at me,” mingyu knocks on the wood to demand your attention, “it’s the only way you’ll ever have an answer.”
“i don't want an answer.”
“…”
"because i'm going to move on from him!"
"..."
“okay, well, i’m starting to! just watch me, okay? i have the agency to not be completely consumed by my very shallow attraction to a very attractive and impressive man.”
“right. you just used attractive twice in a sentence— and no, i don’t care if it wasn’t the same form of the word, you absolutely hate redundant things. and yet, you refuse to recognize the way out of this pattern of yours.”
“you are so tiring, mingyu, you know that? exhausting, even. i don’t want to do this anymore.” you shake your head at him, suddenly invigorated to finish this damn preliminary proposal of yours.
yunjin cackles as she plops down across from you in the dining hall, finding you scrolling ever so dedicatedly on pinterest. “what’s this?”
you look up at her with a pout, “i need a dress for hoshi’s little party. it’s in two weeks and i have zero options.”
“fuck, i knew i was forgetting something,” she grimaces in her typical huh yunjin way and shifts closer, “i need to find something for that too. can’t just wear a corset and call it day since he’s labelling it a formal and whatnot.”
“he really is the worst,” you agree, pausing to muse over a pretty white dress with red roses all over it. “hmm, what about this one?”
yunjin tilts her head and nods as she looks between you and the dress, probably imagining you in it. then, you sigh, “it’s just i don’t think red is my color like that.”
you’re about to elaborate when you hear a gasp from behind you, “that is simply not true!” you don’t have time to react when a figure slides in next to you. goddamnit, it’s jeonghan, you realize, trying hard to keep it together when his shoulder comes to sit next to yours. “you absolutely fucking rock the color red.”
“i do?” is all you can muster as yunjin chokes out a badly covered laugh. you glare at her, “what’s funny, jen?”
“hah, nothing, i agree with jeonghan, you’d look lovely in red.”
you frown, unconvinced as you scroll some more, feeling dizzy from jeonghan’s presence.
“preparing for hoshi’s party i presume?” jeonghan asks and you nod. “i’m so stressed, i have nothing and it’s approaching so fast.”
“you have time though,” he reassures but you’re quick to protest, “i’m not going to have any time next week because we’re organizing that night flea market. i’ll be running around campus so i need to take a trip this week.” the beauty of going to a college with an isolated campus: peace and you gotta plan every time you leave campus because there’s a singular bus that takes you to the city. it’d be a whole day trip for you if not for mingyu, who thankfully has a car that he can drive.
“ahh, tell me when you’re going into the city, y/n,” yunjin pats you, “i gotta go too.”
you nod and then remember, “right of course, i just remembered kazuha saying she wanted to come too.”
“nice,” yunjin approves, “we need all the opinions we can get. did you get mingyu to agree to drive you yet?”
“i texted him earlier but he hasn’t replied, which is slightly concerning because he may not know how to spell but he does write back very fast.”
jeonghan chuckles, “mind if i join you guys too?”
you stop in your tracks, turning to face him, “you wanna come shopping with us?”
he nods, that sweet smile of his plastered across his face, “yeah, i could use a new formal outfit. i’m tired of wearing the same black suit to everything.” he nudges your side, “plus, you guys could help me out. i can never decide on anything all alone.”
“maybe i should just not go,” you groan with your head in your hands. mingyu rolls his eyes, slapping your back, “why would not go? if your problem’s with jeonghan, he should be the one to stay back. not you.”
you sit back up, staring at the eggs in your plate. beside you, mingyu chugs his glass of orange juice, and you lean against him. “god, i hate him so much. do you wanna go see if the playground’s free?”
“right now?” mingyu looks at the time. it’s 11 am on saturday, still an hour from the time everyone agreed to meet in front of mingyu’s car, which is conveniently parked right across from the playground. as if following your line of thought, he grins, “alright. but you finish your food first.”
you sigh, “okay, mom, i will.”
five minutes later find you racing mingyu for the best swing in the playground— months of visiting the place had taught you the first swing was the only one that didn’t creak too loud and experienced the least amount of bumps during the ride. mingyu’s fast but you’re stubborn so you reach out for his arm midway, sticking your nails into the skin, knowing how dramatic he is about these things.
he gasps, “DO NOT CLAW ME.” strong as he might be, he slows down to rip your grip off. you seize the opportunity, getting a headstart and laugh when you reach the swing before him, sitting down firmly before mingyu can pull you away.
“that’s cheating, y/n, you know it!”
“hey, you’re the one that has an advantage. you go to the gym like eight times a week. i go like thrice a month.”
“sounds like someone’s lazy and whiny to me.”
you smile, “someone lazy wouldn’t win that race. and you’re the one that’s whining,” you point to his stance, his arms at his hips like an affronted toddler. he loosens his body with a pout as he walks over to the second swing. “whatever.”
time passes a little too fast for you two when you’re fighting like this because kazuha’s running over to you, breathless. “y/n! what are you guys doing?”
“zuha, hi! did you—”
“yep, i got your lip gloss.”
you chuckle, throwing your arms around her, “why are you the best roommate ever?”
mingyu scoffs, “what about you being the worst roommate ever?”
kazuha laughs, too nice to agree with him, “hey, that’s not true.” you hit him in the side, “you’re just jealous that you’re in a single. i guess money really does make people lonely.”
“i’d go for a double even if i was that rich,” jeonghan’s voice pops up from beside you. he sure has a knack for appearing out of thin air. “i couldn’t handle being alone.”
“not everyone can love themselves as much as i do,” mingyu shrugs, smugly as crosses his arms. “i’m self-sufficient like that.”
“if you guys are done, we should start moving,” comes yunjin’s voice from near mingyu’s car, “it’s already fifteen past 12.”
“i call shotgun!” yunjin shouts and you’re quick to fight back, “no way, i already called it.”
“if i didn’t hear it, then it doesn’t count,” she teases, leaning against the passenger side. you glare at mingyu, “i called it in front of mingyu! the driver is the one that counts.”
mingyu laughs at the petty fight, “y/n did call it earlier this morning.”
“that’s not fair! mingyu’s obviously going to take y/n’s side, you guys spend every breathing minute together. the rest of us don’t stand a chance.”
you smirk, “don’t be a sore loser, huh yunjin, you can call it when we’re coming back. if you remember to.”
“i hate you,” she mutters as everyone settles into the car.
“i’m open to music requests, dear friends,” you announce once you’ve started off. “but i reserve the right to reject any tasteless songs.”
“isn’t this the textbook example of a tyranny?” jeonghan breathes and you shoot him a look over your shoulder, “hey, the power comes with the seat. it’s natural selection.”
mingyu groans through laughter, “you know you don’t make any sense. just play some music.”
you roll your eyes, “he says as he laughs his fat ass off.”
“she’s just salty my ass is fatter than hers,” he mutters under his breath. the three in the backseat break into laughs at that, all at your expense as you gape at them. such betrayal.
“i don’t know why i call you friends. you’re monsters.”
kazuha pipes in, “y/n, are you calling your sweet roommate a monster right now?”
jeonghan is quick to join in, “honestly, i’d say kazuha is the nicest friend among us here.”
“fine, everyone but zuha’s out to get me right now.” the screaming continues for a little bit longer until yunjin and kazuha tire themselves out and pass out. you chuckle when you look at them, yunjin’s head bobs in the middle of the three until it hits kazuha’s shoulder, whose head then rests on top.
swiftly, you pull out your phone camera and capture the moment, sure to tease them later. as you’re clicking the photos, jeonghan’s face sticks into the corner with a sneaky grin and you shift the angle to include him. enjoying the attention, he shoots the camera a peace sign, followed by a little heart, and then a cheek heart and now he’s a bunny and then—
you pull yourself away abruptly with a shaky laugh, “god, jeonghan, this isn’t a photoshoot.”
he laughs back, “ha ha, sorry, i can’t help myself. it’s so fun to tease you like this.”
you feel the blood rush to your face at that, so you turn to face the road completely, a weak, “fuck off” on your tongue. mingyu silently observes the interaction, not without a little side-eye that you don’t know what to think of. “you should get some rest, y/n, you didn’t sleep last night.”
you frown, surprised mingyu knows that and you don’t get to ask him why he knows that because jeonghan interrupts, “you guys sure are close. i was talking to hoshi the other day, he misses y’all a lot.”
“he does? he can just come talk to us whenever though,” mingyu replies, doubt tracing his tone. “i don’t think we’re exclusive like that.”
“right?” you agree, “we used to be so close to hoshi, too, and then he moved to the other side of campus this semester and now i have like one class with him.”
“i don’t know,” jeonghan says, “you should talk to him about it, but there’s always been something stronger about the two of you together.”
you shrug, “we always end up together. it’s not that deep i think. it’s just how it is.”
the topic ends there as jeonghan agrees and dozes off himself too. you, however, feel eerily awake. awake? no, more like unsettled. something in your nerves is off and you feel on edge. you’re a little spaced out after that, as you finally reach the city circle with all the shops crowded next to each other with a little mall in the center.
as everyone gets off and gathers their things, mingyu pulls you aside with a concerned look, “are you okay, y/n?” his grip on your elbow grounds you a little. you inhale, knowing better than to pretend in front of him, “yeah, just a little uneasy. i don’t know why. probably just tired.”
mingyu looks like he knows something more about your condition, “are you sure? we can take a break at one of the restaurants before shopping if you want?”
“nah, i’m okay, don’t worry. i’m a strong girl,” you smile, reasurring him with a pat to his chest, “i feel better now. thanks, mingyu.”
he frowns, hand loosening against your skin, “you never thank me, weirdo. don’t be so formal.”
“man, there’s no winning with you, is there?”
he chuckles as he pulls you after the others, “no, i’m insatiable.”
an hour into shopping, you realize why you hate doing this. everything is so overwhelming when you’re in the city, so many people, so many clothes. at least you have friends with you as you scan racks after racks, ending up with three potential dresses on your arm. you mutter a prayer in your head that you can find something nice here so you don’t have to walk more. this is already your third store.
the first one is a classic: a little black dress. it’s satin so it sits smooth against your skin and feels soft when you twirl around. it’s a little short for your liking, perhaps too tight against your ass. you turn to the side to get a better look. you take a photo and send it to mingyu, who you’d been going back and forth with. he’d last sent you a photo ten minutes ago: him in a stupid minion onesie. you’d cursed him out real well in response telling him to stop fucking around. he writes back fast.
big gyu: u look good
big gyu: kinda basic tho
you: yea i thought so too
you agree with that, putting the dress aside in case you don’t find anything else at all.
candidate number two is more over the top: a long red dress with little black patterns on it, with a leg slit on one side. getting into it was a whole struggle but you get it on finally. it fits well thanks to the slit which also shows off some skin. you’re hot in it: like literally. the long sleeves don’t help at all. but you look good too, the flare doing wonders for your figure. you pause, sending a photo hoping mingyu would be of help.
however, when mingyu takes longer than a minute to reply, you groan, already sweating a little. concluding that he’s probably changing or something, you peek out your curtain, hoping yunjin was still in the stall next to yours. you call out her name, straining your neck to see if there was anyone else you could ask for help.
you spot jeonghan walking around the shelves near the fitting rooms and before you can hesitate to call him over, he notices your head poking out. he raises an eyebrow, sending your heartbeat into a spiral. “y/n? do you need help?”
you clear your throat, “um, yeah, i need a second opinion on this dress.” jeonghan approaches your corner and you panic when he reaches for the curtain to draw it back. his eyes question you, “can i look?” you let go of it to let him in, a tiny little rational part of you wondering he needed to come inside the room to see.
“ohhh,” he exclaims as he takes you in, “you look amazing. told ya red was your color.”
you turn away from him a little, “this dress is hot.”
“it sure is,” he agrees and you blush harder, “no i meant, like literally. i’m so hot right now.”
jeonghan presses his lips together, giving away the fact that he understands but being the little bitch he is, he chooses the option that makes you wanna combust. he presses two fingers to your cheek and mumbles, “yeah, you are.”
you push his arm off, “yoon jeonghan! you’re such a damn flirt! get out of here.” you force him out of your space and he’s uncontrollably laughing as he lets you. “i’ve another dress to try so wait outside for me.”
“sure you don’t need a hand changing—”
“no, thank you very much!” you scream, greeted with more pleased chuckling. your phone buzzes, catching your attention. you lean down to look at it.
big gyu: niceee thats hot
big gyu: u should get this dress
big gyu: pls
big gyu: pls
you: …girl why are u begging me
big gyu: because.
big gyu: you’re getting this dress right
you: no i’d die of overheating in it
big gyu: and it’d be worht it
you: i dont like how enthusiastic u are about this...
you: wtv this one's rejected.
you: i still have another dress to try
you put your phone down to try the final dress. this one was a purple slip dress with white flower detailing. it was skin tight against your boobs and a little transparent, giving away your black bra underneath. and to contrast, it sat a little loose on your hips which was honestly not the worst look, keeping from the dress becoming too scandalous. you enjoyed this dress the most so far. that was enough, given the track record.
“you done, y/n?” you’re startled when the voice outside is mingyu’s instead of jeonghan. you pull back the curtains in confusion, “gyu? what’re you doing here?” mingyu stops short, “fuck, i like this one.” you flush a little when you notice his eyes settle on your chest for a beat too long. “that’s stunning, for real.”
you laugh. “look at you using big words. but yeah, i think this is the one.” you look over at him, “did jeonghan leave?”
“um, yeah, he said he had to use the washroom when i ran into him on the way,” he mumbles. you nod, a little relieved because you think you’d die if he saw you right now. “anyway, i’m offended you were showing him your dresses and then all i got was a photo.”
“hey, you were taking so long to reply that i had seek someone else out. he just happened to be her.”
mingyu ignores that and tells you to hurry up, “i need your help choosing something for myself.”
“ugh, alright, give me five.”
in the end, you decided you’d get both the classic black dress and the slip dress, you needed more dresses in general. wouldn’t hurt to have more. when you’re done checking out, you find mingyu in conversation with kazuha who’s smiling with a shopping bag in her hands.
“zuha, you get anything?” you ask. she nods eagerly, “yeah! i got this pink dress that jeonghan helped me find just now. it’s really pretty, i’ll show you later in the room.”
you falter a little at that, glancing at mingyu who’d told you he went to the washroom. ignoring the growing unsettling gut feeling, you inform her you’d found something too. “nice, we should have a try-on in the room later.”
“you guys!!” yunjin joins the group, “this is insane. i hit the jackpot and found the sexiest green dress ever.” you laugh, linking arms with her, “you should come over later and try it on with us.”
“ah, the beauty of womanhood,” mingyu grumbles beside you, and you shove him. “you’re not invited, pervert.”
his jaw falls open, “excuse me? what did you just call me?”
you press an index finger into his bicep, “don’t think i didn’t notice you checking my boobs out earlier.” mingyu’s cheek redden at the light-hearted accusation, worsening when jeonghan appears right at the climax of the argument.
“okay, okay, first of all, i wasn’t checking anything out!” he complains, “and-and well, they—”
jeonghan cuts him off, patting his back with an amused smirk, “it’s alright, buddy, it happens to the best of us.” everyone laughs at that, much to mingyu’s chagrin who then becomes pouty for the rest of the walk to the next shop.
“c’mon,” you pull him into the store, “my turn to stare at your tits.”
“god, would you drop it?” he groans as he follows you in. “it won’t happen again.”
you giggle, “it’s okay with me, gyu, because that just means the girls look good.”
he groans again, “i really don’t need to be a part of this.” he wanders off into the store, embarrassed. you let him go, looking at clothes for him separately. turns out shopping for mingyu is harder than the concept of it sounds. it doesn’t help that he’s an expert at criticizing the small detail in every item you choose for him. half an hour later, you’re tired of him.
as if on cue, kazuha calls you to tell you to come over to an asian restaurant nearby to grab lunch. you thank the lords as you pull mingyu away, “there’s nothing here for me anyway,” he grumbles as you meet up with the rest.
entering the restaurant, you spot kazuha and jeonghan at a table nearby. yunjin’s still on her way it turns out as you sit across from them, heart in throat for the worst reason possible: you’re jealous. you may be down bad for jeonghan but that doesn’t mean you’ve lost your ability to take a hint. trying to keep the thought from completely forming in your head, you make conversation with everyone, wanting to be better than this.
you want to avoid thinking about it so you’re quick to shut jeonghan off. he’s his usual self, joking around with everyone but he picks up when you’re not as receptive as usual. you hope he just thinks nothing of it, but you know that’s not possible when he approaches you after lunch as everyone else is washing up in the bathroom.
you’re outside alone, waiting, when he slightly pushes your shoulder to draw your attention. you gasp lightly. “jeonghan?”
“can i talk to you for a sec?”
you frown, “yeah, you’re talking to me right now.”
“come on, y/n, don’t be cold. let’s go for a walk.”
“but, the others—”
“i let mingyu know we’ll be back in a few.”
out of excuses, you silently follow jeonghan’s stride through the busy street. he makes conversation really well, easing you up in no time as he distracts you from what was on your mind. it’s illegal how smoothly he then proceeds to drop the act.
you’re laughing about what he’d said about hoshi’s drinking habits just now, when he suddenly goes serious, “i think i like kazuha.”
you freeze up at that, fighting the frown that itches closer, looking at him like you didn’t hear him. heart’s out of control right now, but at least you were already expecting this outcome. “huh?”
“sorry, i just thought you should know. i’m really into her and i was planning to ask her out sometime this week.”
you would love to pass away right now. immediately, you think you hate jeonghan for doing this to you. it’s clear from his behavior that he knows you like him and that he’s apologizing— he’s rejecting you before you have a chance to confess. he likes kazuha. he’s going to ask her out. you should know that.
you sputter awkwardly, “that’s great! good for you, jeonghan. and um, you really didn’t have to tell me. i’m sure kazuha would love to be with you.”
you never want to speak a word to anyone ever again and you're sweating ever so profusely, so you speed up a little, “and we should get going, no?”
sensing your mood, jeonghan follows along but says, “i’m sorry, y/n. i- i know you…”
you don’t let him finish because it would genuinely kill you to hear him say he knows you like him. “you don’t have to be sorry.” with that, you essentially leave your body. you move fast enough to reach the car, wordlessly getting into the passenger seat and yunjin somehow knows better than to fight you.
the car ride back is filled with music. not much chatter. you realize it’s partly your fault and silently dread being back in the room with kazuha, but to your relief, when you reach she doesn’t bring anything up. you’re too tired to do a try-on like you promised and when mingyu asks if you want to come over to his place, you tell him you’re feeling sleepy. and for once, you actually sleep after telling him that.
sleep is not as much of a comfort as you’d hope for it to be: less of an escape, more jeonghan-themed content. something about heartbreak and living the rest of your life, lovelessly.
the next week starts off hectic and you’re thankful for it this once. you could use the chaos of organizing an event to take your mind off things. a small part of you wonders if jeonghan was being merciful by letting you down and timing it so well. knowing him, that doesn’t seem so impossible.
you feel better than you’d imagined you would. you cried like once since the rejection. you didn’t need to worry much at this point, having realizing that it was less important that you’d made it out to be. mingyu, on the other hand, doesn’t give up his worrying, especially when he doesn’t see you until three days into the week. and that, too, because he gave up and thought it would be a good idea to invade your room, at one in the night.
his knocking wakes you up fairly quickly, since you’d only put your phone down a few minutes ago. you rush to the door, afraid of waking kazuha up. “what the fuck, mingyu?” you ask at the sight of him.
“what the fuck yourself! stop ignoring my messages maybe?”
you groan, stepping outside your room, feeling the cold air hit you in your night clothes. “why’d you have to confront me so late at night? can we do this tomorrow? when i’m coherent and not half-naked?”
mingyu falter as if he just realized the time, noticing your tank top and shorts. “i don’t care. i’ll give you my jacket but we’re doing this right here and right now.”
you sigh, knowing this was coming. “forget it, keep your jacket. i’ll go change and be right back.”
mingyu grabs your arm when you try to go back inside, “how do i know you’re not just gonna leave me here to die?”
“dude, my room’s right here. you can come watch me change if you fucking want.”
he lets you go, flustered when you offer and you laugh as you rush back in. in the darkness, kazuha’s voice startles you, “y/n? is everything okay? are you being abducted?”
“oh god, zuha, you scared me. and no, it’s just stupid little mingyu who wants to have a talk. i’ll settle this. go back to sleep.”
she groans, “god, you guys are just like my parents sometimes.”
you laugh at that as you slip into a hoodie and exchange your shorts for pajamas. when you return, mingyu’s sitting at the stairs in front of your room and you hit him in the back.
“ouch! fuck you!” he stands up with a glare, “also i heard what you said about me. why am i stupid and little? can you just choose one insult?"
“let’s go down if we’re gonna argue. zuha can hear us, too. and did you hear what she said after that?” when he seems clueless, you go on, “she said we remind her of her parents sometimes.”
he coughs, “her parents?? what are we, married?”
you roll your eyes, “married and sick of each other, apparently.”
“being zuha’s parents doesn’t sound so bad honestly. she’d be the easiest child to raise.”
“i feel like zuha would raise you if you were her father,” you laugh, “me too, probably.”
“who’d be the father then?”
your smile falls when an answer occurs to you, you mumble, “jeonghan,” sitting at a bench outside your dorm. mingyu joins you, equally solemn now.
“did something happen between you two?”
“yeah. he rejected me when we went shopping that day.”
mingyu’s eyes widen, “what? you confessed?”
you shake your head, a strained smile, “he already knew. i guess i was obvious, but it’s still driving me insane that he rejected me without even giving me a chance to confess.”
“i can’t believe he did that. that’s conceited as fuck.”
“conceited or impressive, i can’t decide. but he told me likes kazuha and that he’s sorry. i genuinely wanted to die when he said that. he was cool about breaking my heart, too. lowkey fell a little harder for him.” you laugh at your own joke, but mingyu looks unhappy, jaw clenched like he’d tasted something bitter.
you hit his arm, “it’s not a big deal, dude. i was thinking about it the past few days and i realized i barely knew the guy. i just knew what he told me over the last year.”
after a pause, “and he’s one beautiful man, so there was that.” you smile a little.
“but he didn’t have to do it like that. he could just stop flirting with you, you know, or wait for you to come around and confess like a normal person,” mingyu says, “he’s such a little jerk.”
“hey, it’s okay, a little flirting didn’t hurt anyone.”
“yeah but he was leading you on, leaving you in ambiguity by doing that. he should’ve been flirting with kazuha, not you.”
“okay, now that’s starting to hurt,” you whine, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, “but i can’t really blame him, no? kazuha’s so precious.”
“don’t be like that, y/n.”
“what? be like what?” you look up, “didn’t you also used to be into kazuha?”
mingyu bites his lip when you bring his years-old crush up, “when will you forget about that? that was so long ago and it was barely serious. she’s too nice to be my type.” (what does that even mean? you wonder but don't have the time to ask.)
“sure, you didn’t want to change residence halls to be closer to her?”
“alright, how many times do i tell you that i did that because of you? why do you never believe me?”
“it just makes more sense the other way,” you mumble, suddenly feeling teary-eyed and hating that you were feeling teary-eyed, which only intensified the teariness in your eyes. “god, this is stupid.”
mingyu’s arm is around in no time when he notices you curling up, your lip tucked between your lips in anticipation, “hey, hey, c'mon, i thought you said it wasn't a big deal. so how come you're crying?"
“because! i feel lame. and because kazuha’s perfect, by the way. she’d probably cry too if she knew i was crying.”
he pulls you closer, “you’re not lame, y/n. you think i’d keep you around so long if i didn’t think you were insanely cool?”
you breathe through your tears, “you just keep me around because i’m insane?”
“insanely cool! open your ears, idiot.”
“you just called me an idiot. idiots are pretty lame.”
he sighs when he feels his tshirt get damper, your body so weak under his hold. he pats your hair softly, “sorry, that’s not what i meant. but seriously, y/n, you know i’m bad at saying this stuff but i seriously cannot stress enough how highly i think of you.” his hand moves to rub your back, “and you’re so much more than perfect, you know? like sometimes you don’t do a paper till three hours before and still get an A. and then, you come up with comebacks to my arguments in your own unique ways, and trust me, nobody can argue with me like you do.”
you pull away, “all right, now you’re embarrassing me. why do i sound like a bossy nerd or something?”
“you can be that at times. hey, but you forgot the part where you’re hot as shit. and also pretty.”
“i feel like that last part was an afterthought, mingyu,” you bite back a laugh, “you really only keep me around for my tits, don’t you?”
“dude, can you let me wholesome for once? i’m trying to console you, so would you stop playing devil’s advocate?”
“sorry, i’m just,” you hesitate with a heavy sigh and then, you blurt out, "i’m scared i’ll never fall in love. i’ll never find it at all.”
“now that’s some stupid thoughts you’re having,” mingyu shakes you by the shoulders, “you’ve just been blinded by your crush on jeonghan for so long that you haven’t explored anyone else at all.”
“are you volunteering to be my crush right now?” you ask, jokingly.
mingyu’s smirk catches you off-guard, “what if i am? it wouldn’t be the worst thing if i was your boyfriend.”
you feel yourself heating up a little for some reason, head in a daze from his earlier shower of compliments and now this. so instead of trying to make sense of it all, you press yourself into him in a hug. “yeah, it wouldn’t.”
“hoshi, you little shit!” you throw yourself around the guy when you spot him on the night of the flea market, the product of a long and actually insane week. he laughs when he realizes it’s you, pulling you into a hug, “bro, y/n, why is this my first time seeing in you in literal years?”
“i don’t know, i just kinda see you walking around sometimes. maybe if you actually showed up to econ class, i’d see you more.”
hoshi flinches, “you can’t be bringing econ up right now. that class is kicking my ass. i can’t keep showing up to that kind of humiliation.”
the two of you catch up at last, as people swarm around the different stalls set up along the college street. you were relieved after having finished this damn event. cheers to sleep, right?
hoshi tells you all about his new situationship with a guy in another class and how he’s regretting inviting him to the party tomorrow night. “why? believe it or not, people are more fun when drunk.”
hoshi rolls his eyes, “yeah, well, i couldn’t get any more fun. so instead i become incontrollable. an absolute animal.”
“right, i remember that. so you’re scared you’re gonna drive him off? i wouldn’t worry honestly. and if you want, i can keep you in check.”
he narrows his eyes in distrust, “you? you’re not much better than me drunk, okay? i feel bad for mingyu who’s gonna have to take care of you the whole time.”
you gasp, “wow, you’re taking mingyu’s side now? over mine? i thought we had something special.”
“you thought wrong,” comes mingyu out of nowhere, slinging his arm around hoshi’s shoulders.
“why are you here suddenly?” hoshi looks between the two of you, “i couldn’t not come to an event my lovely y/n herself planned, could i?”
hoshi laughs, “nice to see you two as jolly as ever. but also i must take your leave. i gotta go grab dinner soon.”
“hey, why don’t you come with us? we were gonna check out the new outlet the college opened.”
“oh, i would love to but i have plans with someone already.”
you nod your head in realization, “right of course, have fun. not too much, though. leave some for tomorrow.” he leaves with a full-toothed smile and you face mingyu.
he playfully pinches your cheek, “you confront him about missing us yet?”
you raise a shoulder in response, and as the flea market starts to fizzle out thanks to the darkening sky, your stomach grumbles. “let’s eat, please.”
ever since that night— you don’t want to say anything had changed between you and mingyu because your friendship had been long enough that even the slightest shift in dynamics would harmoniously just become the new status quo; the two of you had been through a lot together. but ever since that night, you’d been fooling around with him more, if that was possible.
it was along the lines of: less banter, more flirting? although one might argue that the former was just a derivative of the other. but semantics aside, this is what you know to be true: friends flirt with each other all the damn time.
that’s what you’re telling yourself when mingyu asks you to feed him some of the fried rice you’d gotten on your plate. and it was true: you’re almost a 100% certain that you’d flirted with every friend of yours, and that was just how it worked.
but intimacy came differently to everyone and mingyu’s just manifested in clinginess. he was pressed to your side for the entirety of dinner, and you couldn’t complain about the proximity. it was welcome, even, this form of friendship.
“you’re thinking too hard.” mingyu’s voice pulls you out of your little reflection session. “what’re you even thinking about? you should be all burnt out from all the work you did this past week.”
“i am,” you affirm, “but some things just don’t let up.”
he chuckles, patting your head affectionately as if to persuade your thoughts to let up for a while. it doesn’t help really, only gravitating the direction of the said thoughts toward kim mingyu even more.
“maybe repetition isn’t as bad as i always make it out to be,” you say, chin propped up against your fist on the table. mingyu had chosen a corner table of the newly opened eatery, next to a low window that glowed behind you in the remains of sunset as he shifted to completely face you. the sun had finally set. again.
“you’re right. routine is good for people.”
“but it doesn’t have to stay the same forever, you know?”
“hm?” mingyu can’t help but feel like you’re edging toward some underlying topic. you were like this since he could remember: you’d start off with some abstract and vaguely relevant concept (that had no doubt been plaguing you for a long time) and slowly circle around till he caught onto what you meant. you love playing games with him.
“repetition doesn't have to be redundant? i think there's something more subtle about it.”
he doesn’t know where you’re going with this, “but repetition is literally the same thing over and over?”
“yeah, but the ‘same thing’ itself can evolve,” your fingers knock against his, “i don’t know, i was just thinking about… us.”
“us? i guess we would be a good example of repetition.”
your gaze falls from his to find your hand instead, your fingers wrapping around his wrist until you’ve forced his palm open. his hand in your lap upside down, you pull at the fingers, “yeah, but we’ve changed a lot. for one, we fight a lot less. sometimes when i’m going to tell you a thought, you understand mid-sentence what i mean.”
“yeah, well, that’s what we get for knowing each that long. but really, what’s this about, y/n?” he captures your hand in his expertly, pulling your attention back to his face.
“do you ever think we should be more?”
mingyu breathes a laugh at that, a shiver running down his spine when he spots the solemn look on your face. and then, his smile turns grave. “y/n, we’ve talked about this before, haven’t we?”
“have we? every time i’m the one who brings it up and you kinda just shrug it off. no, don’t even try to argue with me. you shrug the serious stuff off. always.”
it’s true, mingyu admits in defeat, mind racing as he considers why you’re bringing this up now. the answer is easy: you were finally available. but he doesn’t say it out loud, like he never does. you’d confronted him about the state of your friendship before, unafraid to wonder out loud what it would be like if you started dating. you’ve received all forms of shut-downs from mingyu before so you figured you were the only one in an ambiguous place about your feelings for him.
if someone was to ask if you like mingyu, you’d probably say yes, but it’s more than that. you know better than to blindly fall for him. witnessing him in his relationships before, you know he can be ruthlessly cold to his partner once he’s out of love. you practice romantic love for mingyu: carefully because too much would definitely be dangerous.
“i have my reasons, y/n.” there it is. the strict mingyu. the rigidity in setting his boundaries was something you admired and aspired for when he exhibited it in the past. right now, you want to punch him.
you’re without a filter with him so it’s unfair when he treats you like this. you let him know as much: “i want to punch you right now. i’ve hidden nothing from you, and yet, there’s this wall you keep yourself behind. is this really one-sided?”
mingyu doesn’t know what to do with you right now, “y/n, why are you—”
“no, because it's not like i can't take a hint. so one minute you're flirting with me and then, you push me away like right now,” you point to his estranged fingers, “but then you act like nothing happened and go right back to being all intimate and touchy.”
“i just…” mingyu lets out an exasperated sigh, “i just don’t see the reason for labels. why do we have force ourselves into a restriction like that? we’ve always been above conforming.”
it’s your turn to sigh heavy enough your head hits the wall behind you. wasn’t this just his way of friend-zoning you back into silence? you’ve always been too embarrassed to push him this far because you don’t mean to hurt him. but you feel as though you’ve hurt yourself long enough now.
“so why’d you say that the other night? that it would be nice if you were my boyfriend?”
this leaves him speechless for a few beats and you continue, “that was just because i was heartbroken from jeonghan? you’re playing prince charming for me so i can go back to being your trusty little best friend?”
“y/n, you know that’s not true. i’m not playing anything in your life. i’m just being myself.”
you scoff, “you really are so fucking—”
“why are we actually fighting right now?” mingyu asks through an incredulous laugh, “this is actually so petty, dude, let’s stop. you know i love you, right?”
mingyu’s last resort makes its presence: a non-committal i love you. because at the end of the day, you’re still best friends. what was a little ‘i love you’ in today’s economy? nothing. especially when you’d hear him throw the phrase around all the time.
you stand up in defeat, “fine, let’s stop. you win.” you gesture for him to move to the side and he does so reluctantly when you glare at him like you’re genuinely mad. (you are.)
he follows you out the door, catching your elbow to slow you down. “don’t be like this. i know you’re mad at me.”
“i’m not mad. i'm tired and i just want to go back to my room,” you seethe, walking faster than him. he grabs hold of your shoulder turning you around.
“if you’re gonna storm off, at least go the right way.” you huff softly and let him steer you the right way to your dorm, hands still on you. you spend the way to the front of your room silently, waiting for mingyu to say something but he just does what he does best: take care of you.
as you reach the door of your room, he pauses, apologetic smile on display. “listen, let’s talk more tomorrow? get some sleep.” he reaches for your hair, tenderly running his fingers through the locks. there it is: the soft mingyu, his eyes wide as he stares you down for signs of stress.
his warm arm pressed againsts yours, you realize you don’t want him to just leave. you know the drill: tomorrow morning, he’ll text you to meet for lunch and everything will go back to being unsaid. maybe he’ll bring along seungcheol so you don’t bring anything up again. either way, it’ll be so natural you’ll think nothing ever happened. but you want something to happen.
so your hand settles around his bicep to hold on and partly to keep him in place. you lean in, “let me do one last thing and if you want to stop, i’m never bringing this up again. i promise.”
you don’t give mingyu a moment to react to your words and instead raise yourself up to his level, other hand on his chest, and press your lips to his. you kiss mingyu after the thirteen years that you’ve known him and the ten that you’ve wanted to. you counted the years just as you count the seconds that it takes for him to come to his senses and pull himself away.
he looks less upset than you imagined: more dazed. like he can’t believe what you’ve done. he looks at you with his lips parted and you have to tear your gaze apart, lest you should tear yourself apart with longing.
“y/n, i…” he looks away and that’s enough evidence you need. you step away from him, your easy smile back in its place, not before you pat his arm as it falls from you.
“it's okay. i understand. let’s be friends, mingyu,” you declare suddenly, catching him off-guard. you'd pulled all the stops and if he genuinely was uncomfortable with pushing the line between platonic and romantic, you would respect that.
he begins to say something but you don’t want to hear him speak, at least not right now when the sound of blood rushing to your head is the loudest it's ever been, and you certainly don’t want to falter again. you’ve decided. “good night."
mingyu should feel relieved. he really should be happy that you’re back to normal around him, friendly and playful like you’ve always been. he should count his blessings that you’ve accepted the status of your relationship with him as it is. but as he falls asleep that night, all that comes to his mind is the smile you’d sported as you asked to be friends.
it was all wrong: your lips against his, that was something of his dreams, not a reality he has to be escaping from. it replays in his head, your scent that he’d caught a whiff of now and then, whenever you’d wrap your arms around him. the heat of your skin he’d rationalize as the comforting presence of a friend for days later.
he’ll soon come to know how insanely stupid he’s being right now but until you knock some sense into him, he simply plays along with a sting he hides pretty well. he should, he’s been doing it for years now.
it’s the night of hoshi’s party already and he’s walking over to the location of the pregame, alone because according to a text fifteen minutes ago, you’re still not ready. you’d invited yunjin and some other friends to your and kazuha’s abode to apparently make the process easier, but if mingyu knows anything about the group, you’ve probably spent more time selecting the right song to play than get ready.
the door to dino and hoshi’s shared residence is already open as he strolls in, finding a group already on the floor, taking shots. he makes eye contact with jeonghan who beckons him closer and mingyu takes a seat next to him.
space is scarce so mingyu finds his arm pressed uncomfortably close to jeonghan’s, who oohs at mingyu’s fit, “ooh, you look positively sexy.”
mingyu grimaces, “do you have to put it like that?” he does look … positively sexy, mingyu admits, in the navy blue shirt he wore but— and here’s the punchline— with the buttons undone all the way to right above his navel.
“where’s y/n, by the way?” jeonghan asks, an eye at the entrance as he slides a shot glass toward mingyu. the question irks mingyu for obvious reasons and he keeps him waiting for a minute, waiting to down the liquid in glass (vodka unfortunately for his throat) to answer him. “um, she’s still getting ready. any minute now.”
“ha, that means she’ll be another ten. that’s a shame, i was hoping to pour her first shot.” jeonghan shrugs resentfully.
maybe the alcohol’s working faster since it’s been a while for mingyu, but his mouth runs faster than his head, “why’d you care? i thought you asked kazuha out a while ago.”
jeonghan raises a brow at that, “hmm. i did. but things did not work out so well. what with kazuha feeling guilty about y/n and… well, i also…”
“feel guilty?” mingyu asks, voice strained. he’s annoyed at having to listen to jeonghan’s side of the story. he could not care less about humanizing him and whatnot. he’s watched you suffer for far too long to be empathetic right now.
“yeah. and i thought i might like y/n, too, after all.” jeonghan says it so casually as if discussing his performance in a particularly challenging college course, not his feelings for a person who he’d recently rejected.
the word might pierces mingyu’s ears. the uncertainty behind it is in such stark contrast to his own… feelings toward you that he genuinely feels his breath heat up.
or maybe that’s just jeonghan when he leans over to refill his glass. “drink up, buddy.” mingyu’s just about ready to make a scene right now, shoving jeonghan’s hand off his back but suddenly jeonghan’s standing up, making his way to—
you. you’re here.
almost as soon as he catches sight of you, he looks away, pretending to give the vodka in his hand all the attention in the world, as he puts his lips to it and empties it. head is now light. that’s probably enough for now, he decides as he puts his glass down.
when he looks back up, you’re at the kitchen counter with yunjin and kazuha.. and jeonghan, who’s grinning as he hands out the bottles of fireball to the group, no doubt marketing it so convincingly that you’d think you came up with the idea yourself.
mingyu shoots to his feet, regretting it when his vision darkens but he pushes past, eyes focused on your figure— god, he forgot how hot you look in that dress. he tries to keep his thoughts in check as he approaches you, but it doesn’t help that your makeup’s even more meticulous than usual, eyes glittering and lips delightfully glossy.
he breaks into the space between you and jeonghan, arm against yours, catching your attention.
“my guy!!” you exclaim when you see him and then your eyes trail down to his chest and then back up to his face where his hair sits parted with the help of some gel. “you look like a slut. i love it.”
mingyu laughs, subjecting you to a similar once-over, “you’re one to talk.” your hair’s back in a bun of sorts, a rare occurrence because you seem to prefer have it around your face. he can’t help but pause at your exposed collarbones, the gold shadow you applied there earlier doing wonders to his already dazed headspace.
“is it already that part of the night where mingyu starts hitting on everyone?” yunjin complains, reserving the alternate version of her question (something along the lines of how impolitely he’d been eye-fucking you in front of everyone) for some other time as she nudges you to open the fireball in your hands.
you do so, looking at jeonghan who offers one to mingyu, which he refuses as he leans against the counter, hand silently at your back just in case. “you’re not drinking?” you ask, quietly enough only for the two of you, just in case he wasn’t comfortable sharing.
“nah, i just had two shots of vodka back there. trying not to mix for the sake of me tomorrow,” he mutters, patting your back encouragingly, “but let me know if you need help finishing that.”
jeonghan eyes mingyu on the side as the trio clink their bottles together and get to downing them. later, as things start picking up and more people make their way into the party, mingyu finds your arm. “do you want me to stay close by?” he frames the question in a way that you have an out, because he can tell that you’re still unhappy with him.
but you’re tipsy when your hand interlocks into his, “only if you’re going to dance like you mean it.”
the night goes better than you expect it to, especially since mingyu’s let loose for once. or perhaps… he’s always this carefree when drunk, palms kneading at your waist, keeping you close to his chest, which you try your best to not get too used to touching. he sure knows how to keep you on your toes (sometimes literally) even when wasted because you’re trying not to get too close. for you own sake.
that is until hoshi shows up beside you two, pulling you apart as he introduces you to a friend.. or a partner? you can’t hear in this state and just as you try to lean in closer to hear what he’s saying, you feel a presence at your shoulder, fingers poking you.
you turn to find jeonghan behind you, sloppy smile on his face as he screams something at you. you frown, asking him to repeat himself, hand on his bicep to steady yourself against the movement of the party.
“need to talk to you about something!” his words come at you, clearer. “right now?” you shout back, “what the fuck is it?” your body doesn’t want to stop moving so you groove against his side, and momentarily catching a glimpse mingyu’s heavy gaze on you. you almost completely stop then but jeonghan’s pulling you away, after him to a relatively emptier zone of the house.
you’re breathless, you realize, now that the spell of the music’s been broken. you rest against the damp wall behind you, uncaring as you look around for a liquid to quench your thirst. cunning as ever, jeonghan’s already handing you a plastic cup with a transparent liquid.
you narrow your eyes at him despite how wasted you are. “what’s this?”
he laughs, “i’m glad you’re vigilant as ever. this is water. cold. drink up.”
you comply, your throat throbbing ever so lesser after you’re done and you sigh in relief. “you might have broken my heart but you’re still an angel, jeonghan.”
“ahhh,” he exclaims joining your side against the wall. you frown when you take note of his fingers clasped together, almost fidgeting. yoon jeonghan, fidgety? that’s a first for you.
“actually, that’s what i wanted to talk to you about…”
when mingyu looks away from hoshi and his company to see if you were listening and when he finds out that you’re in fact in jeonghan’s embrace, he’s suddenly sober. and when your eyes find his for a moment, something in them changes and he calls out your name like a warning. but then jeonghan’s already leading you elsewhere.
mingyu wants to follow after you immediately but he realizes hoshi’s still talking to him. “hoshi, bro, can i find you in a while? i gotta make sure y/n’s okay.”
but hoshi stops him in his tracks, hand on his chest, “wait. please tell me you told her…?” he trails off uncertainly as mingyu catches on what he’s saying.
“i haven’t,” he admits, eyes still searching the crowd for you, “but i think it’s time that i do. only so much i can take.”
“that’s the spirit, man! okay, now go kiss y/n for me.” hoshi pushes mingyu with a start, not before the the latter shoots the man a glare and takes off in his search for you.
you’re still in that corner with jeonghan, who’s done narrating the past week’s revelations to you, all about his failed attempts with kazuha and his slow understanding of his real feelings about you. you’re far more unaffected that either of you was expecting, arms crossing in thought.
but then you say, “well, that’s fucking stupid. because i’ve realized i wasn’t as down bad for you as i once thought i was.” jeonghan’s smile falls a little with a disappointed sigh. “but,” you continue, “you know what i’m still curious about?”
when your hand creeps up jeonghan’s shoulder, he thinks he knows where you’re going with this. “i’ve wanted know if you’re really as good at kissing as everyone makes you out to be.” jeonghan’s already moving closer to you, enveloping your face in his hands, and his devilish grin’s spills out as his lips find your ear. “let’s find out?”
and that’s how mingyu finds you wrapped around jeonghan, making out like this was your last day living. and for a moment, he considers giving up and letting you have this. he even stops in his tracks in the crowd, his thoughts so easily drowned out by the music if he just lets go.
but his mind’s reeling when the sight of you kissing someone else just pushes him back a day ago when you were leaning up into him, soft breaths risking your lips against his and the way your body pressed into his just right. his feet move without a thought, then, shouldering through the bodies around the two in the corner.
you’re just pulling away from jeonghan to start to say something about how that wasn’t too bad when his body is lifted away from yours with an unannounced jerk. you gasp and then once again when mingyu’s face comes floating in front of yours.
“mingyu,” you breathe, unsteady from the series of events this past minute, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“what the fuck are you doing?!” he screams in your face, hands on both arms to keep you from moving. jeonghan’s walking to your side and you want to say something to apologize but you’re far too infuriated with the man in front of you to think.
“i don’t know! trying to get laid? finding happiness? love?!” you scream back with as much force. you call out jeonghan’s name, “i’m sorry. mingyu’s too drunk to—”
“jeonghan,” warns mingyu when the guy tries to break you free from his embrace, “can i have a minute with y/n.” it isn't a question.
jeonghan has the nerve to say, “maybe not. i wouldn’t leave you alone with her in this state.”
“oh, she’ll be just fine,” he replies and jeonghan simply looks at you for confirmation. but you’re still looking at mingyu, starting to tear up, head throbbing all at once. you stop fighting against his grip and mumble in defeat, “whatever.”
“if you’re going to lecture me about being bad, i don’t really want to hear it.” you’re back next to the kitchen counters with mingyu beside you. slowly, you sit yourself up on the surface, feeling exhausted. “i’ve heard it before.”
“no, that’s not what i’m doing. i just want you to stop and think clearly—”
you groan when you hear the beginnings of a typical you’ll regret this in the morning type talk, you slide off the counter and to your delight, you run into a guy holding up a can of beer for the taking. you’re quick to jump at it, grabbing it up from him and pulling the tab of the can open. just as you put the beer to your lips, ready to chug it, you feel it being pulled away, the next few moments occuring before you can comprehend anything.
suddenly you’re sitting back on the counter and your dress rides up when you feel mingyu push himself in between your legs. at first, you see his face close on yours and then the taste of beer meets your throat. no, it’s not just beer— it’s mingyu. his tongue spills onto yours, beer mixing with saliva and when you try to pull away, his hand at your neck tightens. you sit up straight and you feel his watch digging into your spine.
your head spins when you can finally breathe, inhaling only to cough out. heart in your throat, you look at mingyu in disbelief, “what the fuck!” but he’s already taking another sip of the beer and some of it slides down your throat into your dress, when his mouth finds yours again.
you’re weak in his arms, and the heat between your legs is only so rational. so you find yourself giving in and kissing him back when the liquid runs out, nails finding his scalp, earning you a deep groan that vibrates against your chest. that’s when he pulls away again, eyes finally meeting yours with an unprecedented intensity.
he leans in again, wet kiss against your cheek, followed by a grunted whisper of, “i love you so fucking much, y/n. it’s so hard to watch you run around with other men.”
you want to think you’re hearing things but mingyu doesn’t let you, another kiss right in the nape of your neck that sends shudders down your back. “i want to be yours so fucking bad. want to spoil you like you deserve.”
you swallow against the moan that rises in your throat, to pull mingyu’s face back to your eye-level, “then why aren’t you mine? why’d you push me away?” your voice breaks, betraying the pretense of indifference you try to prop up. his eyes soften, fingers brushing against your forehead.
his lips quiver and he sighs defeatedly. it’s a miracle you can hear him with all that noise around you. but you hear him clear as day against your hair when he finally says, “i’m scared. of loving you too much, of being too much. and i’m scared of losing you.”
mingyu’s imagined telling you these exact words before and how you’d react to them infinite times before but when you giggle into his collarbone, he pulls away with a blank look. your forehead is against his all over again and for the second time night you say, “that’s fucking stupid! if you were going to lose me, it would’ve happened a while ago.”
of all the things he’d imagine you saying in response, this was the simplest option, so unlike your usual overthinking self. maybe it’s the alcohol and adrenaline in your system speaking but mingyu somehow feels comforted, because maybe it really is that simple. it would’ve happened if it was going to. or maybe mingyu’s too drunk to make sense of it all right now.
so his lips are moving against yours once again, without warning, your breath all his when his arms tighten once against around you. you’re laugh grounds him enough to break away. you open your mouth to complain about the distance when mingyu’s back against your skin.
“shut the fuck up,” he groans, the command making you hotter than you’d like to admit. your legs close around his ass, pulling him closer and his hand slips across your boobs. the friction of his palm against the tight fabric of your dress makes you let out an undignified moan into mingyu.
that’s when he knows he needs to take you to somewhere more private for reasons more than one. you’re too lightheaded to move yourself so mingyu’s carrying out the house without a word anyone you two came with. it’s only when the cold air hits you that you realize you’re outside.
you struggle against mingyu until you're back on your feet and stop. “where are we going? i’m— do i know you, mister guy?” for a second, mingyu’s heart sinks when he wonders if you thought you were just making out with a stranger. then, you say, “i need to go back and find mingyu. gotta kiss him.”
ignoring the blush that colors his face, he grabs hold of your elbow, “i am mingyu, idiot. and we’re going to my room.” you shake your head to clear your vision, eyes widening when you recognize him. your hand finds his face with a light laugh, “ah! it’s my big guy.” the name doesn’t help mingyu’s condition at all, so he’s pulling you after him faster than before.
back at the party, kazuha starts panic when she realizes she’s lost hold of you, unable to locate you anywhere within the party. she tugs at yunjin’s sleeve who looks over in concern, “what happened to y/n? i can’t find her anywhere.” yunjin laughs at that, covering her mouth with her hand. “don’t worry about her. i saw her and mingyu leave together earlier. she’s probably in heaven by now, if i’m right.”
“hmm?” kazuha pauses as a thought pops up into her head, “wait… did they…?” yunjin grins knowingly, “yup. it really was high time they fucked.” the former lets out a satisfied giggle, “i know. they were so obvious without even being together. i was getting tired.”
“you were getting tired?!” you gasp at mingyu later in the night, panting against his pillow. you’re on your back and he throws you a tshirt of his to sleep in now that your dress is… demolished. you look at it sadly out of the corner of your eye. “i really liked that dress,” you whine, as he picks the remains of it up with a somewhat smug grin, “planned to wear it out again.”
“i couldn’t risk that. you looked too good in it,” he chuckles to himself as he jumps into bed with you. you sit up, feigning anger as you slip the cotton over your head, warming up when the smell of mingyu greets you. “i don’t know if i could resist seeing your tits out like that.”
you hit his chest hard with a lighthearted scoff, “i knew it! you’re such a pervert. not just a pervert, you’re also a brute.” you groan as you rub your thighs together gingerly. mingyu props himself up, pulling you down into a hug, rubbing your back. “sorry, does it hurt a lot?”
“it’ll hurt more in the morning,” you relax in his arms, pressing a loving kiss into his hair, “should’ve known you went so rough. asshole.” you giggle when he pulls away in disbelief at the last insult.
“how could you—!” you roll away from him, laughing. he shifts closer, caging you against the wall behind you, “hey, you can’t say stuff like fuck i knew you’d have a big dick and then expect me to go all vanilla! do you know what that does to a guy?”
you shriek in embarrassment, “don’t bring that up now!” your ears redden when mingyu forces you by the chin to look up at him. “besides, where do you think the nicknames like big gyu and big guy came from?”
mingyu’s jaw falls open at the revelation and you break out into a fit of laughter at his mindblown expression. “how- how long have you been thinking about my di-”
you hit him to stop him, “ever since you kept pushing me away,” you run a hand down his side, sly grin on your swollen lips, “and i had to come up with something if i wanted to get myself off alone.”
with an exasperated groan, he falls against you, suffocating you as his body goes limp above yours. you let out a gasp when you feel him hardening against your leg and he speaks into your neck, “you’re seriously telling me i’ve been missing out on taking you like this for… for how long now?”
you kiss his cheek, hand slipping down his boxers with a soft exhale, “a while. and if you hadn’t come to your senses today… well, i’d all but given up on you today. when jeonghan kissed me, i was just going to—”
suddenly your breath escapes you, mingyu’s hand around your throat and his lips on yours with a loud grunt. he stops your hand in its movements, “please tell me you’re not talking about jeonghan while— fuck!” he gasps when you bite his lower lip to protest his hand on yours. his hand gives way and you’re palming the tent in his boxers again, pushing him down against the bed, so thankful he doesn’t have a rooommate in times like this.
you place a kiss at the corner of his lips and trail down his chest, shirt long gone, before muttering, “forgive me?”
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
i really want to write a more wholesome ending but have not the time or energy right now, so i'll be back with a shorter spin-off/ epilogue of sorts about how you and mingyu as a couple work out, how your friends react, some skinship, etc.
anyway, this is my official announcement that i've become a baby carat :] didn't know how much i was missing out on before svt so this is very fun. so far, jeonghan's my favorite little guy, although as is clear from this... mingyu makes me do things. on the roster are: minghao and joshua. hopefully there will be more svt fics in the future. no promises <3 goodbye friends and foes!!
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redwlf843 · 1 month
Note
Seeing abby at the gym and getting flustered
My favorite kind of cardio
A/N: I like the way you think anon. If I went to the gym and saw her I wouldn’t even be able to function.
Warnings: ogling (don’t actually ogle people at the gym), Abby being cocky, Abby’s muscles (yes they get their own warning) fingering, swearing, semi public sex, mdni, not proof read
Enjoy 😈
You don’t want to admit the rarity at which you use the free campus gym. Sure you’ve used it once or twice before, but who has time to go to the gym? Apparently your new found gym crush does. You hated yourself for staring but how could you not, bulging biceps moving seamlessly with every dumbbell curl she did, her tight black sweat pants clinging to her muscular thighs and ass perfectly. You shamelessly checked her out from your place at the treadmill, as she did bicep curls In front of the full length mirror. Your eyes travelled up her body until her eyes met yours in the mirror.
You fell a small part of you die inside as your face flushes and you look away. You can’t believe you got caught staring, you risk taking another glance hoping she wouldn’t be to mad, but your met with her smirking at you through the mirror. You continue your run on the treadmill looking anywhere but her before you make a bigger fool of yourself.
This is how it went the whole time you move from different machine to different machine but somehow your eyes would always find her. She knew it too, she’d flex harder than necessarily, she’d smirk as you watched the way her muscles rippled under her skin, and she’d wait till you were looking at her to lift the bottom of her tank top to wipe the sweat from her forehead giving you a lovely view of her abs. You can’t help the gasp that leaves your lips. You could the moisture leaving your mouth and quickly going south.
You were getting ready to do deadlifts when the Greek goddess approached you.
“Want a spotter?” Her silky smooth voice asks
And you were happy you weren’t holding the bar yet because you would have surly dropped it.
“Uh yeah that’d be great thanks” you bumbled out
She nodded with a smile as she stood behind you. You could tell her eyes on you, you wiped your sweaty palms on your workout pants before you grabbed the bar.
You did four before you started to struggle. You got the bar upon the fifth one before you really started to struggle before you felt her front flush against your back and her strong hands holding your waist.
“It’s alright I got you” she her voice low against your ear
Your ass was tucked into her pelvis
“Just put it down slow” she guided you
And you slowly dropped the bar breathing heavy
“Good girl” she whispers into your ear
“U-uh thank you, for helping with that i um I’m done for today so I gonna hit the showers thanks again” you awkwardly ramble before rushing off towards the locker room.
You left Abby standing there smirking at your retreating form.
You just had to hurry up and shower then you could leave and forget that ever happened, you thought to yourself as you quickly opened your locker and grabbed your shower bag and towel. You could the wetness between your legs and the way your clit throbbed. You definitely had a date with your vibrator tonight.
You quickly showered and you were now in front of your locker, your towel still wrapped around you.
“I’ve e never seen you here before” a familiar voice speaks out and you jump whipping around with your hand to your chest over your rapidly beating heart
“Sorry” she says with a laugh “I didn’t mean to scare you” it’s the Greek goddess again and now you are fully convinced she is trying to kill you with how she has her muscles on display for your eyes to see. She wore nothing but a black sports bra and black boxers, her wet hair back in its signature braid.
“I don’t come here very often” you answer her question
“Hmm that’s a shame” she pushes off the lockers she leaning against and slowly makes her way to you until she’s in front of you
“I’m gonna miss having an audience” she teases with a little smirk
You blush while opening and closing your mouth trying to find something to say
Her raspy chuckle breaks the silence of the locker room
She moves closer to you until your back is pressed against the lockers and she’s right in front of you, she braces one hand on the locker by your head while the other lifts your chin so your meeting her stormy blue eyes.
She leans down and she’s a hairs length away from your lips, you can feel her breath on her face
“S’ok I was looking too” her voice is low
Your eyes flick down to her lips before meeting her eyes again, you decide to take it into your own hands and you surge forward your lips meeting hers.
It’s a hot and messy kiss, she has you pressed against the lockers and your holding onto her shoulder while your other hand is on the small of her back, trying to pull her even closer to you. Her tongue runs along the seam of your lips, her teeth nip at your bottom lip. When you moan her tongue goes into your mouth and explores when she can reach.
She breaks the kiss and you both catch your breath, your eyes meet hers and your knees almost give out at the look she gives you. Her eyes are dark, the blue irises barely visible around her blown pupils.
You feel her moves you towel and you feel her warm hand on your thigh
“This okay?” She asks as she kisses your jaw
You nod
“Use your words baby” she tells you as she nips at your neck
“Y-yes please” you breathe out
“Good girl” she mumbles against your neck as her fingers trail up your thigh to your wet core
She runs her fingers through your slit and groans at the slick she finds there
“Fuck your so wet, gonna have to be quick. Don’t want anyone to walk in” she tells you as she starts to circle your clit with her fingers.
You whimper and grab onto her arm, feeling the the muscles move under your hand just floods your center even more. She kisses and nips at your neck and her fingers move down to your hole.
She slowly fucks one finger into you savoring the way your velvety wet wall feel around her.
She adds a second finger and curls them hitting your sweet spot and you have to bite your lip to prevent the moan that wants to come out.
She sets a quick pace, her fingers fuck into you while her palm rubs against your clit. Your hips rock with every movement seeking the friction your body is begging for.
All that can be heard throughout the locker room was the squelch of your wet pussy, your quiet whimpers, and Abby’s breathing.
“Such a good girl, taking my fingers so well.” She praises and she feels your wall flutter around her fingers
She smirks as she kisses the marks she’s made on your neck
You could feel the coil getting ready to snap, she could feel how close your were with how your pussy was clenching her finger
“Let go for me baby, cum on my fingers”she tells you and you feels the coil snap
She kisses you and you moan into her mouth. Your back arches off of the lockers and your nails dig into her shoulder. She grunts into the kiss and slows down her movements helping you ride out your orgasm.
She breaks the kiss and kisses your forehead before she takes her fingers out of you. She licks your juices off of her fingers before she quickly gets dressed. You stay leaning against the lockers eyes closed and catching your breath after probably the best orgasm you’ve ever had. When you finally caught your breath and opened your eyes.
The Greek goddess had just finished getting dressed and left the locker room with a wink.
You were about to call out to her when others started to enter the locker room. You quickly get dressed and you’re about to leave when you noticed a piece of paper on the bench closest to her locker. You quickly grab it and read it as you leave.
(XXX)XXX-XXXX
Give me a call. Next time I won’t have to be so quick.
-Abby
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savannahsdeath · 8 months
Note
hiii i love ur fics ive read them all i ws wondering if you could like do a 18+ with a extremely jealous ellie??
thank you sm ily😭💞and yes ofc i tried my best!!
JEALOUS!ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER
mdni please<3
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summary: els didnt like some of the messages she found on your phone..
warnings: 18+!! smut, jealousy(obv), language
writers note: sorry it took me so long to post it😓ive actually written it like one day after you requested but i had already some posts planned and i didnt want to change everything now💔
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You came back after a meeting with your co-workers to see your girlfriend waiting for you. As soon as she heard the door open, she leaned on the doorframe of the living room, looking at you with an undefined expression.
"You're late." She mumbled, her voice sounding mad but the way she planted wet little kisses all over your face said otherwise.
Ellie's closeness wasn't just out of greeting, but out of an act of possessiveness and jealousy that you grew accustomed to in the relationship.
You sighed and looked at Ellie for a second, before saying, "Yeah, I'm late. Sorry." You gave her a quick kiss too while looking for your keys. "Meeting ended late." Your voice wasn't as cheery as it usually is.
Ellie then rolled her eyes. "Did you really had to stay that long?" She muttered loudly, trying to hide the jealousy that was so clearly showing.
"It was important." You said, finding your keys and pulling them out of your pockets. You didn't sound upset because it was hard to be upset with Ellie. She was like a little kitten who was possessive and needy at times, but still oh so sweet.
Ellie rolled her eyes again but smiled, and she leaned onto you with her arms wrapped around your waist in a hug. This was where you felt safe and home.
"C'mon," she said softly, "let's go to bed."
You nodded. "I'll just go to the bathroom, 'kay?" You asked, giving her your bag, like you always did after work - she'll lug it upstairs for you.
"Of course, darling." Ellie smiled as she took the bag from you, her expression now fully warm and affectionate. You were lucky to have her, and you knew that.
You went to the bathroom and started to wash your face and brush your teeth, taking a moment to yourself.
After a few minutes, and a good splash of cold water on your face, you exited the bathroom and made your way upstairs. Ellie was waiting for you in the bedroom.
She was doing something on your phone, which didn't surprise you - she was probably just going through your gallery, staring at your pics. You had nothing to hide anyway.
She often did that, smiling widely and mumbling things like 'my wife's so pretty'.
This time, though, she was silent and had a frown on her face.
"Who's Steve?" She asked when she saw you.
"I don't know." You answered honestly. You had no idea who is she talking about, probably a random boy following you.
"You two texted." She passed your phone to you with an opened short conversation. He replied to your story, complimenting you, you thanked him, that's all.
"Yeah, I remember now. What about him?" You lied down next to her, curiously staring at the screen, expecting some more messages to magically appear and explain the situation.
Ellie sat on top of you, playing with the hem of your shirt. "He's hitting on you." She said as she got more bold, now not only fingers but her whole hands sliding up and down your waist.
"I don't know him. He just texted me once." You shrugged, reading the conversation over and over again to find which part made your girlfriend act like that.
"Yeah, and what does his text say?" She smirked, not in her usual innocent way, but in a 'think twice before you answer' way.
You scrolled to his first message and read it out loud. It was simple "stunning💞" in a reply to your story - a photo Ellie took of you at the beach a week ago but you forgot to post it before.
"Exactly. Now, what are you wearing on that pic?" Her smirk widened as she started to undo the button of your jeans.
You didn't pay much attention to her moves, focusing on her orders. "A swimsuit. I mean, we were at th-"
She shushed you, pressing her lips against yours. She pulled away after a good minute, leaving you breathless. She forced the phone, which slipped off of your embrace while she kissed you, back between your fingers.
"Stop explaining yourself or I'll think you actually have something to explain. For now, I'm just asking simple questions. Do I look like I'm mad?" She held your chin with one of her hands, while the other was unbuttoning your formal-looking work shirt.
She really didn't look mad, but you knew it's just her ability to camouflage.
You let out a relieved sigh as soon as you catched your breath. "Oh. Right. Look, it's not a big deal, I told him I'm-"
"Busy. Yeah, I know." She cut you off. "Pretty pathetic excuse."
"What was I supposed to say?" You barely managed to say as she started tracing a path of messy, wet kisses from your neck down your body.
"Are you seriously asking me that?" She laughed and you could feel the vibrations in her breath caused by her sudden outburst on your stomach, right were she stopped to answer you.
You stayed quiet, not wanting to make it worse or seem even dumber in her eyes than you already do, if that's even possible. She noticed your confusion and didn't pressure you to read her mind.
"That you have a girlfriend. That she told you to post it. That she took this pic." She made a pause after every sentence to cling her tongue, followed quickly after with her mouth, to your core, watching your body slightly squirm. You didn't even realize when she arrived that low, and when she took off your underwear, but that wasn't important anymore. "That it was her idea to go to the beach. That she helped you pick your swimsuit. That she saw you in it first..."
"Els... Stop..." You moaned out, feeling jealous of how unbothered she looks while you were already soaking.
"Stop what?" She laughed, sucking on your clit while taking off her rings.
This simple, two-words question, turned out to be more difficult to answer than you'd thought. Actually, what did you had in mind while telling her to stop? Hers 'that she...' calculations? Her hand placement, which had a bruising grip on your thighs? Or her tongue, that had definitely affected you the most, making you drop the phone, screen-down on the bed, and hopefully hold into the bed sheets?
"That's what I thought." She said before you could think of a correct answer.
She had a whole scolding prepared in her mind, but you wasn't honoured to hear it as she had a better plan. Still, she wanted to talk to you through it, watching you do your best to answer or just understand her while she makes you look and feel like a total mess. In order to not leave your cunt hopelessly tremble, right after she took her tongue off of your clit, she pushed two fingers into your entrance.
You gasped, squeezing your thighs together, which made Ellie laugh. It was a normal reaction - her move was unexpected - but your eyes rolling back always got a reaction out of her.
"Back to the topic, want to tell me why you decided saying 'you're busy' will work?" She smirked, her fingers pumping in and out, clenching and unclenching, in a painfully fast and rough way. Her thumb rubbed your clit, replacing her tongue.
"I... If I-'d" You stuttered, taking a deep breath after every letter you managed to say.
"Y-Y...You what?" She mocked your mumbling, her smirk turning into a smile.
Your back arched, making your hips move higher, but Ellie held them down with her free arm. Even though her nails were trimmed short, so she won't have to worry she'll hurt your pretty cunt, you swore you feel them digging into your waist.
"That hurt-s..." You whispered, but you weren't really bothered by it, even though your eyes were starting to get teary.
"Yeah? Don't worry, I'm sure Steve would make it hurt more... if you'd give him a chance, that is. But you didn't and won't." Her free hand let go of your hip, taking your phone and staring at the unlocked screen, clearly thinking or considering something. "I know you're mine and you know that too." She finally concluded, but right before she put the device down, you got a notification.
She mischievously smiled as she saw who's the message from.
"You got yourself a fan." She laughed as she opened your conversation with the reason of her jealous behaviour. "'Still busy?' and a fucking winking emoji. Jesus, that's just embarrasing."
You couldn't help but admire how good her attention span was - one hand making you a whining mess, other typing on your phone, eyes barely looking away from you (only to read his text, she typed hers blindly), mind probably racing with ideas to make him, or you, or both of you, regret your little conversation. She was obviously overreacting, but then again, your profile was full of Ellie and there's no way he missed all the cute posts about her.
"Should I show him how 'stunning' you look right now?" She chuckled and shook her head. "Nah, this view is for me only."
"What d-id you do?" You stuttered, trying to take your phone back, but she placed it out of your reach and aggressively grabbed your wrist.
"I liked it more when you moaned instead of asking questions." And just as she said that, she got faster again, making your cunt tighten even more around her fingers. Even though it may seem she's not paying much attention to how precise she is, she kept violating your sensitive spot, not missing it once.
Your head hit the pillow, leaning back on it and exposing your throat from which many signs of your pleasure came.
She was wondering again, her eyes looking you up and down before finally staying at your face. Her smile faded as she looked at you for a few moments. Then, she picked up your phone and passed it to you, following by simple but stern words; "Block him."
Your hands were shaky, so instead of pressing the block button, you almost accidentally called him a few times.
Ellie's smirk came back as she looked at you obediently fulfill her requests. She knew she could make you do anything she wanted now, but she didn't feel the need to. The only thing she needed was you with her - her only.
She took the mobile from you, whispering soft 'good girl' as she saw you succeed to do what she asked you to.
"Next time, if someone bothers you, just tell me straight away." She patted your cheek, her focus going back to what's her right hand doing.
This boy didn't bother you at all, he was just nice. But you knew what Ellie meant - he bothered her. Without arguing, you silently nodded, knowing this is the last time you posted a swimsuit photo on your account.
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moralesmilesanhour · 9 months
Text
teamwork (makes the dream work...?)
genre: enemies to lovers I guess? I'm bad at these 😭
summary: one week, your usual work partner is absent, so instead you are seated next to a genius with attitude problems. it happens.
wc: ~500
A/N: if i can manage to be consistent for once, this will probably be a series because I haven't done one in a while. pls feel free to leave your reactions in the tags or comments! happy reading 🫶🏾
next see all parts in my masterlist!
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Sunlight filtered through the large classroom window. Usually, you'd be seated right by it, letting the rays warm your face in the air-conditioned room.
Not today. Your usual partner was out sick, so you were moved to the back of the classroom. Blocking out the sunshine was the silhouette of a boy you had only seen in the hallways once or twice.
He had deep brown skin, with two neat cornrows cascading down either side of his neck and brushing his shoulders. You also made out an undercut, faded cleanly beneath the braids. There was a case meant for holding glasses sitting at the front of his desk, but no spectacles sitting on his prominent nose. 
The boy was bent over his worksheet already, arm covering the page.
"Hey," you said with a pleasant upturn in your voice. A full thirty seconds passed. He didn't answer, so you try again.
"Um, excuse me-"
"I heard you." 
The boy kept his eyes on his desk, brows knitted together with focus. He was making broad, sharp strokes with his pencil. His elbow moved for a moment, revealing not a sheet of math problems, but a piece of printer paper filled with intricate geometric designs. Precise lines come together to create the form of a caped figure. It has large, mechanical claws and a mask with sharp, wide eyes.
"That's a cool drawing," you commented. The boy's shoulders jumped to his ears as if he'd been caught before dropping back down. He finally looked up from the page and paused. Wide, brown eyes flickered across your face, trying to determine what to make of you.
"Thanks," was all that the boy said before returning to his sketching. It wasn't long before you interrupted him again.
"You not gonna finish your work?"
"I'm already done, that's why Ms. Jones put me back here and let me rock."
Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. 
"Well, excuse the fuck outta me," you muttered to yourself. 
You messed with the sleeve of your royal blue uniform blazer in silence, weighing your options. Ms. Jones wasn't going to let you turn in another incomplete assignment, and this kid couldn't even be assed to say 'hello'. A deep sigh escapes your lips.
"Can I get your name, at least?"
The boy set his pen down with a slam, and looked up at you as if he'd just been asked what color the sky was.
"Morales," he deadpanned, with a slight roll on the 'r'. 
"Which Morales?"
"Miles."
You hummed in slight recognition, having heard the name somewhere before, murmured next to you in passing.
"You Dominican?"
"Puerto Rican."
"Oh, cool."
"M-hm." 
He picked up his pen again and began to twirl it between his pointer and middle finger, but held your gaze. You looked like you were finally about to get to the actual question.
"Well, Morales," you began with a smile.
Here it comes.
"Since you're done, can you help me with-"
"No."
You scoffed, "What's the point of being partners, then?"
Miles had already returned to his original position, scribbling away. He didn't look at you, this time.
"We not partners, ma."
...And so began the longest school week of your life.
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ameliathornromance · 2 months
Text
"I don't know if this is a good idea." Your Orc Boyfriend told you.
"This place is fine!" You smiled at him. Gripped onto his hand, you pointed to the door of the Inn. "I already told you that they're welcoming to everyone. You'll be fine."
All around you, people stalk by, heads shrouded in cloak hoods and clutched tightly around their necks to stop the downpour of rain.
Your Orc Boyfriend grumbled as a gust of wind sent a chill down both of your spines. He looked over his shoulder, pulling the poorly fitting hood further over his face. He sighed. "Okay, let's get out of the cold then."
Beaming, you pushed open the Inn door. The two of you entered and were instantly hit with warmth. Chatter drowned out the bard who played at the very end of the tavern. But no one spared a glance at the two of you, even as your Orc Boyfriend pulled down his hood.
"Right, let's see if we can get something to eat." You mumbled. You pulled him away from the door, desperate to get further away from the cold draft that had followed you inside.
"(Y/N)? No, that's not you,"
Whipping your head around at the mention of your name, you couldn't stop your grin. "Boor? Is that you?"
"Boor?" Your Orc Boyfriend questioned, but there was no time to give an answer.
A human man, twice the size of a regular man, pushed his way through a crowd of Goblins to you. "It's been so long my friend!" He grabbed you and lifted you off the floor.
You let go of your Orc Boyfriend's hand and wrapped your arms around Boor.
Once you were let go, your boyfriend instantly pulled you into a protective grip. Hunching over you and crossing an arm over your chest protectively, your Orc Boyfriend shot a glower at the man.
Boor didn't even glance at your boyfriend, instead bending down to you, "are you well my friend?"
Sensing the tension from your partner, you placed your hand on his forearm and squeezed. "I'm good... Boor, I'd like you to meet my partner: (O/N)."
Boor finally acknowledged your boyfriend and gave him a toothy grin. "An Orc?! Amazing! I haven't seen any of you for a few years! I hope you and your kind are keeping well!"
Your Orc Boyfriend seemingly relaxed at his recognition and grunted in return. "We are well."
"Come, allow me to buy you drinks, we must catch up!"
"Actually," Your Orc cut off. "We should get a room."
"(O/N)'s right, sorry Boor." You smiled apologetically. "Maybe later, we're both freezing from travelling."
"Ah, if you must." Boor sighed, "I will see you later my friends!"
When you and your partner had been settled in a room, you both collapsed onto the bed. A fire crackled in the corner of the room, punctuating the silence.
"Who is this 'Boor' man?" Your Orc Boyfriend asked.
"Boor's a good friend of mine." You explained, "he's part man, part giant. Super friendly and kind, but not very good at reading other people." You snorted, "one time, we nearly got caught in a Drider's web because Boor said he promised to feed us. Little did we know, he was actually trying to fatten us up to eat."
"Sounds like a shit travelling companion." Your partner grumbled.
"He meant well." You rolled your eyes and smiled. Both of you returned to silence for a moment. "...Were you jealous?"
"No." Your Orc Boyfriend said too quickly. He rolled over, back facing towards you.
You could barely suppress a grin from coming over you. "You have nothing to be jealous of, I only have eyes for you." Placing a hand on his bicep, you leaned your head against the square of his back.
"..." Your partner didn't respond for a moment. Then he rolled over and scooped you up in his arms and squeezed you tightly. "Good. If it weren't for the Inn full of people, I would have beat him to death for even touching you."
You rolled your eyes and squeezed him tightly. "I'm glad you didn't. Otherwise we'd be camping outside again and I don't think that you would want to do that."
"It would be worth it if it meant protecting my partner."
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luce-reid · 11 months
Text
Germs -Spencer Reid fic
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Spencer Reid x you (gn reader)
Word count: 1,457
Summary: you cancel a date with Spencer because of a cold and he shows up at your doorsteps to take care of you.
Cw: brief description of a cold, if you squint.
Other: not beta-read, written while sick with the flu. Also on Ao3!
Masterlist
Dr. Spencer Reid was getting ready for your date. There was excitement in the air of his apartment at the idea of finally seeing you again after so long. Sure, things between the two of you were fairly at the beginning, but he had a good feeling about this, about you.
He had to cancel twice already because of work, and just couldn't wait to see you. His heart was fluttering in his chest at the idea that, somewhere in your apartment, you were also getting ready for him. The thought made his cheeks flush pink. You were getting all dolled up just for him.
The few dates you manage to have had been simply... wonderful.
So, when he saw your name on his phone screen, he answered the call with a smile: you really missed him, huh?
Said smile, however, fell quickly at the sound of your voice. "Hey, uhm, Spencer..."
Not good. Spencer knew whatever it was, it wasn't going to be good.
"Yes?"
"I'm so sorry, I- I can't come tonight" your voice sounded hoarse.
"Are you ok?"
"Sure, uhm, it's just the flu" you sneezed afterwards. "Uhm, sorry again-" before he could say anything, you had already hang up, hiding back in the covers of your bed. Your head was thumping, loud and painful, and you were surrounded by tissues.
You were off in the land of dreams when your doorbell rang. With a groan, you dragged yourself to the door.
Spencer was on the other side, dressed in a fancy suit and with a bag in his hands. You furrowed your eyebrows, the light from the corridor almost blinding you: "doctor home visit?" Was all you managed to say, your usual banter cut short and dulled. You took a step back to let him in, suddenly feeling your legs weak.
He immediately reached out, putting one of his arms around your waist to support you as he placed his other wrist over your forehead. "You don't have a fever, that's good." he murmured to himself. You felt yourself melt in his embrace. "Your skin is so warm."
He smiled, slightly embarrassed, and shoot you a confused look. You just nodded to yourself and his hand went to cup your face, tilting it so he could look into your teary eyes.
"When I first saw you, I thought you had to be running cold, you know? But when we held hands you were just- warm." You kept on rambling. He bit down another smile. You were being really cute.
"Men's core body temperature is actually just 0.4 degrees lower than women's. Which is really interesting because, in the middle ages, women were actually thought to be the colder sex. Studies from the time-"
The utterly dazed look you were giving him made him stop his rambling. "Sorry-"
"Sorry, Spencer. I'm really trying to listen but the information is just- scrambling in my brain. Can you tell me another time?" You interrupted him and he felt a thug in his heart. There you were, with an awful cold, and still you were thinking of his feelings. You were just too precious.
"Don't worry" he smiled reassuringly. "Now let's get you to bed, shall we?"
You nodded, ready to take the few steps to get back into the safety of your own bed.
Spencer, however, had other plans: he reached for your legs and got a hold of you, princess style. You shrieked, surprised, and he just chuckled.
Your bed was a biohazard and his laughter died quickly. There were used tissues everywhere, along with opened, abandoned water bottles. Spencer bit the inner side of his cheek. This wouldn't do.
He went back into your living room and placed you on the couch. "Wait a second, okay?" You just nodded, confused, and he disappeared in your bedroom. He re-emerged just to wrap you in a warm blanket and got back to work: he opened the windows to air out your bedroom, took a deep breath and put on his plastic gloves.
Once satisfied with the state of your room, he came back out, closing the door behind him. "I'm just gonna let it air out for a bit" he answered your silent question, taking off his gloves.
You just hummed quietly in response, before sneezing.
He quickly went to you, a worried look on his face. He felt your forehead again, and was once more relieved to notice you had no fever. "Have you taken anything?" He asked as he made his way into your kitchen.
"Aspirin" you murmured, already missing the feeling of skin-on-skin contact.
Spencer started looking for a glass. "I brought orange juice, bottled water and some medicine, but aspirin should do"
He got back to you and, if you hadn't been so out of it, you would've definitely appreciated the sight of Dr. Spencer Reid on his knees in front of you, looking at you like you were the moon and the stars.
He handed you a glass of water and furrowed his eyebrows in apprehension. When you handed it back to him, he looked worried. "Do you want some tea? I can make you tea. You have to stay hydrated. " He asked, wanting to help you in any way he could.
"Yes, thank you, Spencer" you smiled.
By the time he got back with your tea, he had a goofy smile plastered on his face. "I didn't take you as a tea enthusiast"
You scoffed and reached for the mug.
"Chamomile tea?" You asked before taking a sip.
He nodded. "With mint and honey. Are you feeling any better?"
You nursed the mug in your hands, feeling the warmth spread to your hands.
"Yeah"
Truth be told, you felt like your body was boycotting you and your throat hurt and your head was fuzzy. But with him there? Yes, you felt better. It had been a long time since someone nursed you while you were sick. And by God, did it feel nice.
Once finished with the tea, Spencer took you back into his arms and carried you to your bed. You snuggled closer to his chest, feeling the cold air against your skin.
Spencer simply looked at you. "Everything alright?"
"It's cold" you mumbled.
He placed you in your bed and felt your forehead for a fever. "Honey, it's May."
The nickname made your heart jump. Spencer closed the windows and wrapped you in another blanket. "Get some rest, okay? I'll be in your living room if you need me".
He put a couple of water bottles on your nightstand and left, closing the door after him.
It wasn't until about thirty minutes later, as he was sanitising your living room, that he heard a loud noise coming from the bathroom. "Everything ok?"
You just mumbled a response, the sound muffled by the door.
Inside the bathroom, you were having a small crisis. Your face in the mirror was worse than you had imagined. In your clouded mind, you thought that, apart from a slightly red nose, nothing else had changed. Nothing else should've changed.
Instead, your reflection almost felt like a mockery: you had deep, purple eyebags; your nose was more than "just a little red"; and your eyes, oh your eyes... teary, barely opened, still overly-sensitive to the bathroom light. You tried to make yourself look more presentable, but your reflection stayed that of a sickly, flu-infected individual. You bit your lips.
"Honey? Everything alright?" Spencer’s voice brought you back to the present.
"I look awful" you whined -only to internally cringe at yourself- "you didn't tell me I look this bad"
Spencer let out a muffled sigh. You were ok, that was what mattered most. "Honey-" he stopped, just now realising he had been calling you by the nickname he was using for you in his head. He blushed.
You couldn't see that spectacle, because your bathroom door was still closed. You sat on the floor with your back against it.
"Spencer, go away. I'll be fine. Don't come back until you've forgotten how I look today, please" you felt yourself cringe at your own words, but hey! You were sick, right? That had to excuse at least some unusual behaviour.
"Honey?" Your heart jumped at the nickname. "Don't you think that's a little unfair considering I have an eidietic memory?"
You sighed, got up and opened the door. In front of you, an impossibly handsome looking Spencer was giving you a small smile.
"First of all, I think you look very cute. Secondly, I like you, no matter how you look, okay?" He opened his arms, inviting you in for a hug.
"You'll get sick" you mubled, as he held you. "Worth it."
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anadiasmount · 1 month
Note
can u make a small blurb of jude coming back to his and y/n’s apartment finding her passed out from studying so much. he wakes her up, sets up a bath for her, orders her food, and just takes care of her overall. 🙏🏼
okay bye… cause why is this actually me rn?? i’m so so so exhausted from uni and work i need to sleep for 2874828 days…🥲🤍
wc: 1.3k | masterlist | jude's masterlist
it was weird you hadn’t responded to any of jude’s calls or texts from the last hour. he found it strange you didn’t at least read or made contact since the morning when he last texted you. he had a full day of recovery and media shooting with the team and all he wanted was to be with you.
“hi baby… erm- it’s me… i’m starting to get worried that you’re not answering my calls, did i do something wrong? just please call me back when you get the chance, i miss you darling…” jude said into your voicemail once again, resisting the urge to freak out or overthink.
from jude:
are you okay?
y/n you're starting to worry me
call me back please
okay I'm headed to your place right now.
he sent you one last text before finally deciding it was just best to make sure everything was okay and go to your flat in person. he grabbed some of your favorite takeout and a book you’ve had on your list before finally heading over.
jude slowly knocked on your door with no answer, waiting impatiently and biting the inside of his cheek to hear a response but nothing was heard. he knocked again, calling out for you, and then wasted no time to slide the extra key you gave him into the slot, twisting it open rapidly and opening the door.
“y/n?”
he looked around and saw your office door open, setting the food and book down before sprinting to you. a full panic mode in him as his pulse raced at any scenario of you being left alone or something happening to you.
"y/n? are you okay?" jude asked carefully as he was faced with you slumped on the huge bean bag asleep. your hair in a messy bun, glasses almost falling down your face, ipad full with notes, a spreadsheet and planner open with your pencil on the floor, and a video lecture continuing to play as you slept soundly.
jude chuckled before crouching down and pressing kisses on your head, a small groan escaping your lips as you wiggled around in the bean bag. "y/n... wake up my love..." jude laughed as he felt you pull him closer to you, taking your glasses off and grabbing all your school stuff and setting it onto your desk.
"jude? w-ha-t what are you doing here?" you yawned squinting your eyes before rubbing them to get used to the lighting. "cmon up up up, stretch your muscles out, you were sleeping in an uncomfortable position baby," jude said as he helped you up. "no no," jude chuckled as you hugged him tight and almost made him lose balance.
"i missed you too," jude snuggled you closer, kissing your head repeatedly as you muffled your words. "how come you didn't tell me you were coming? i could've made something," you said with your eyes closed, snuggling into his neck as you breathed in his cologne.
"i did! i left you like five voicemails, and so many texts because you didn't return my calls," jude says still smiling at your sleep state. you gave him a confused look, detaching yourself and looking through your watch and seeing all the missed notifications from your boyfriend.
"oh my god! you did! i'm sorry jude, i didn't mean to make you worry handsome. i was studying for my test and i must've slept through all of them," you ran a hand along your face clearly upset and fatigued from the past exhausting few days. "i think i fell asleep right after our call this morning."
"if anything i'm glad you were sleeping and catching up on rest. all you've done this past week is uni and then study, study, study. you know how proud i am of you always for being dedicated to school, but you also know how much i hate seeing you overwork yourself," jude kissed your hands softly and then pecked your lips twice lovingly earning a hum from you.
"and before you say it, i know how hard the term is and how much you have to pay to every single detail, but right now i don't care. i'm going to run my beautiful girlfriend a bath, and after she's done her favorite takeout will be waiting for her, okay? how does that sounds?" jude said in a sincere voice making your heart melt with adoration and feeling grateful for him.
"that... actually sounds very nice..." you sighed out a breath of relief, following jude who was now in your restroom. jude touched the water to make sure it was hot to your liking, adding epson salt, some of your favorite scented oil, and a vanilla bean bath bomb.
jude helped undress, kissing every inch of your skin, and muttering praises how beautiful and proud of you he was, helping you get into the bubbly bath. "i'll be in the living room okay? going to order some food and those red velvet cookies you love so much," jude felt you squeeze his hand thanking him.
"thank you jude."
"just sit back and relax.”
“that was actually so nice…” you say drying your hair with a towel walking into the kitchen, feeling refreshed without worries of uni or work. you look around and gasp, seeing candles lit and a fresh bouquet of flowers sitting on your island. “what’s all this?” you ask jude who is leaned on the counter with his arms crossed.
“if it’s going to be a proper self-care night, we need candles lit, the house to smell like flowers and maybe this?” he pulls out a book from your wishlist. jude sees your eyes go wide full with excitement, “oh my god? how did you know i’ve been wanting this?” you try to each for it but he lifts it up in the air.
you squint your eyes at his teasing matter, “nuh uh. you made me think i had done something, and the last i want is to spend my night with my girlfriend dug into her deep book instead with me,” jude shakes his head seeing your frown. “to my defense, i was getting my well deserved sleep, no?”
“and you ignored my calls…”
“jude.”
“y/n.”
“fine you win,” you say rolling your eyes, placing the towel on the chair before leaning up and kissing him like a starved women. jude releasing a groan and slowly bringing his arm down to wrap around your waist, “can’t get enough of you y/n… especially when you smell so good.”
“let’s eat, cookies will be here before we finish eating. i’ve already set up the living room with warm blankets and your favorite soap opera,” jude says with a small smile, earning a squeal from you and clap of your hands. “you tried to deny about liking the show, saying you hated it, but what do we have here?” you tease as you sit down in the chair. “for someone who slept the whole day you sure are blabbering a lot,” jude scoffed playfully.
after eating dinner and finally being able to read at least the cover and back page of your new book, jude laid on top of you as you watched the tv, two uneaten cookies and your empty mugs on the coffee table. “are you feeling better?” he asks, looking up seeing you almost sound asleep. “mhmm, just feeling tired now…”
jude traced his hands on your are thighs, drawing small shapes and his name as you drift off to sleep to soothe you. his eyes grew heavy, but wanting to finish the episode to find out who the main character would end up with to tease you the next day. “don’t watch it without me. i see you falling asleep, so sleep,” you deadpanned slapping his shoulder gently and turning the tv off. “love you jude. goodnight.”
“goodnight beautiful.”
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staryukis · 4 months
Text
knock, knock. . . ⇢ satoru gojo
˗ˏˋsummary: after nearly getting killed in a fight, you decide to pay a visit to an old friend. unsurprisingly, he… isn’t so happy to see you
˗ˏˋwc: 3.4k
˗ˏˋcontains: f!reader x gojo, angst, descriptions of blood/major injuries, mentions of violence, friends to enemies to ???, hurt/very little comfort, romantic tension thicker than suguru's ass, gojo is incapable of moving on, slowburn, ambiguous ending, post-jjk0, MDNI !!!
˗ˏˋa/n: this is part of the collection bulletproof love, but can be read as a standalone!
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it’s not every day your ex-friend shows up at your front door battered and bleeding out while asking for your help, despite you two not having been on good terms for over a decade.
so when you did exactly this — your blood-stained knuckles weakly knocking twice on his door before letting your fist slide down the wooden surface and fall to your side, feeling too exhausted to even properly retract your arm — satoru thought he was hallucinating when he opened it and saw your face. maybe he’d finally lost his mind… being so far detached from anything remotely human because you’re the closest thing to a god would have that effect on just about anyone.
“hey,” you rasped out, tone hoarse yet wet-sounding with the blood you’d coughed up on your way there. the sound of your voice was what made him snap out of his stupor, as it sank in that you were actually here. and he wanted to be so mad at you, oh he had so much he’d been wanting to say to you in the time since you both last spoke. nevertheless, when his mouth opened, a strained response came out that neither of you had anticipated.
“who-… who did this to you?”
you didn’t immediately answer his question, instead swaying a little bit as you leaned against the doorframe for support. when you let your head drop and hang low on your shoulders, your hair falling in front of your face made you look so… defeated, in his eyes. the small drop of blood that fell out of your mouth and onto his porch only amplified just how fucked up you were right now.
you’d gotten in a bad fight, but it’s not unusual for you to get mixed-up with the wrong crowds. that’s pretty much exactly what you’d been doing for the past 10 or so years, after all. but this fight was different. someone was out for your blood and they’d ambushed you when you least expected it, catching you off guard with the lure of a grade one curse that was annoying to exorcise and then jumping into the fight right as you started to feel worn-out.
you still put up a good fight, you always did, but you didn’t leave it unscathed. purple-ish blue and yellow hues painted your limbs and your torso, scrapes and cuts adorning your features — it’s nothing you weren’t used to. but what was most prominent was the deep gash in your abdomen, oozing copious amounts of blood through your nimble fingers as you weakly pressed your palm to the large opening. your bottom lip was split open but it was not the reason for the blood that covered your mouth. you felt like you were dying and so painfully slow at that, it’s honestly a miracle you managed to drag your feet this far to satoru’s front door.
your breath came out in slow, shallow huffs, and when you lifted your head again satoru could see the pale, sunken look on your face, accentuated further by the dark bruises around your left eye and cheekbone. “i-… i need…” you began to say, and then another cough racked your chest, but this time you were too weakened to control the way your body shook as a result of it. you tipped forward, your eyelids heavy as you all but collapsed against satoru, the latter immediately catching you despite still struggling to comprehend the fact that you were here at all.  
he quickly pulled you inside, kicking the door closed behind him as he dragged your limp body to his couch. once he laid you down you sunk against the cushions, your hand slipping off your abdomen and falling to your side. satoru’s eyes widened and he pressed both of his own hands to the wound on your side, applying a firm amount of pressure to stop the bleeding. he opened and closed his mouth like a fish, stammering as he tried to find the words that keep getting lost on his tongue. he truly didn’t know what to say to you right now.
“call-“ you wheezed again, groaning in pain when you attempted to lift your head as you addressed him. “-call shoko…”
“you want me to call her?” satoru questioned in a frustrated manner, making you narrow your gaze in confusion. he shook his head and inhaled deeply, and then he— wait, he teleported? you blinked in surprise when the man before you disappeared in an instant, and then just as quickly as he’d disappeared he came back, this time holding a disgruntled shoko in his arms.
“what the fuck, satoru!“ the shorter woman slapped her hand hard across his shoulder, glaring up at him. “i told you to stop fucking doing that!” 
satoru didn’t reply, instead grabbing her shoulders and turning her around to face the couch. she opened her mouth in protest and then immediately clamped it shut when she saw you laying before her, bleeding out on satoru's couch. likewise, she also had a million questions the moment she recognized your face. but when her eyes landed on the wound on your stomach, she instantly kneeled in front of the couch, her hands hovering over your shirt as she thought about what to do.
that was simply the nature of your complicated relationship with them. it all traced back to your shared history, one that neither of you would admit to still holding close to your hearts to this day. it trumped all indifferences between you three, all the arguments and the fights and the disagreements of the past were immediately put on hold because you, one of their oldest friends, were on the verge of death.
and so, shoko went to work without another word or complaint. the faint hum of her reverse cursed technique being used to seal the wound on your abdomen was the only sound in the room, save for the occasional moan of agony from you as you tried not to roll around in pain. satoru was standing off to the side, giving shoko the space to work, and his eyes were flitting between your face and the wounds on your body. there was a flash of something across his features, and then he clenched his fists at his sides.
“what the fuck did you do?” he finally broke the tense silence, his voice heavy and his brows furrowed in frustration. you couldn’t tell if he was angry at you or angry at whoever left you in such a state. you opened your mouth to reply, but shoko immediately interjected, her head swiftly turning to the side to glare at satoru.
“she’s not in any state to talk right now, save the interrogation for later.” she snapped, having recognized the stark bitterness in satoru’s voice. satoru just huffed in annoyance, and his gaze went back to your face for another moment before he turned around and walked out of the living room, muttering something unintelligible under his breath.
by the time shoko had finished up with the worst of your wounds, she was thoroughly exhausted. she’d used up a great deal of her energy healing the wound on your abdomen, so she decided to ignore the minor cuts and scrapes scattered across your face as she focused on the ones that demanded her attention the most. you were staring at the ceiling in silence, and when she sat back on the heels of her feet with a small huff, you lifted your head and offered her a weak smile.
“thank you…” you mumbled quietly, unsure what else to say to her in the moment. shoko gave you a smile back, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. she looked like she wanted to say something but then she looked over at the entrance of the kitchen where satoru had been holed up the whole time. she chewed the inside of her cheek in mild frustration, sighing before slowly getting up to her feet. 
“i did what i could. you still have some small abrasions here and there, but… otherwise, you’ll be fine.” she said after a moment, her back facing you as she spoke. it seemed she still held some level of animosity towards you, but then again… could you really blame her?
shoko walked into the kitchen then, finding satoru sat beside the counter with his head in his hands. he didn’t move as shoko walked in, but he could sense her presence, so he sighed heavily after a moment when she lingered beside the counter. “you want me to take you back now?” 
shoko didn’t respond to his question, instead walking over to the sink and washing the blood off her hands — your blood. “she still has some minor bruises and scrapes left, nothing that should take longer than a day or two to heal.” shoko murmured, shutting off the tap and wiping her hands dry with a paper towel. she turned around to face satoru again, sighing as she leaned against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. “now would you care to explain what the hell she’s doing here?”
“fuck if i know,” he sounded exasperated as he spoke, rubbing his palm over his face with a heavy sigh. “she just— showed up like that. i didn’t know what else to do.”
shoko clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth, walking over to satoru and nudging his shoulder. “i know exactly what you could’ve done, you just didn’t have the heart to do it again… now take me back home, i’m exhausted.”
──────
over in the living room, you were slowly getting up into a seated position when satoru finally emerged from the kitchen. he lingered a few feet away from the couch before sighing, keeping a neutral expression on his face as he stepped in front of you. “c’mon, get up.” he muttered, grabbing your elbow and helping you stand up, completely avoiding your gaze as he did. “let’s get you cleaned up before you continue staining my very expensive furniture.”
before you could protest he was dragging you behind him towards the bathroom in the hallway, opening the door and pulling you in front of him, urging you to sit on top of the closed toilet seat. you did so without a word, but it’s not like he was letting you speak anyway; when you opened your mouth to say something he just shushed you and grabbed a washcloth from the cabinet, soaking it in water before he kneeled in front of you and started to wipe the blood from your face. he was careful as he placed the damp cloth over your face, dabbing around each of the minor scrapes shoko elected to ignore with precision. you could only sit there a little dumbly, eyes searching his as you tried to find an opening to speak, but he didn’t seem like he was in the mood for talking. until he was.
“you’re stupid as fuck for this.” he mumbled, a hint of disdain on his features as he cleaned your face. your narrowed your gaze at him in offense.
“why are you automatically assuming it’s my fault?” you scoffed, only for him to shush you with a finger pressed to your lips. you blinked in surprise, and then your eyes widened a little further when he thumbed at your lower lip, gently brushing the pad of his finger just beside the area that’d been split open. he pulled his hand back after a moment and stood up to rinse the cloth he was using, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d started holding.
“what makes you think that you can just show up here like this after everything that happened last year?” he asked you, his gaze fixed downwards as he wrung out the cloth before moving back in front of you, this time grabbing your hands to clean them. satoru was mad at you, understandably so, but his tone didn’t hold that kind of unbridled anger he typically reserved for his enemies. well, his usual enemies, at least.
you didn’t reply for a moment, because truthfully, you didn’t know what came over you when you decided to come here. you tried to reason it in your head but you didn’t get very far without immediately wanting to disregard your gut instincts. you were on the verge of death, you needed help, you came to the one person you could’ve trusted the most—
“i needed shoko’s help.” you answered finally, hoping your response would satisfy him. it didn’t.
“if you needed her help you would’ve gone to her place instead.” he supplied, and your shoulders sank a little bit. now he caught you slipping.
“her place was too far.”
“…alright.”
silence again. satoru was finishing up wiping the blood off your hands, when his movements suddenly slowed to a stop. his gaze was fixed on your hand as he turned your palm over to face the ceiling, his fingertips lightly tracing along the inside of it. your own fingers twitched upwards, almost closing over his, but then he pulled his hand away and cleared his throat.
“you still haven’t said what happened.”
“you don’t want to know.” 
“why would i bother asking if i didn’t want to know?” he huffed with a distinct lack of forbearance as he raised an eyebrow at you. “you at least owe me that much for showing up here completely unannounced. i could’ve easily turned you away, y’know?” 
you knew he was bluffing on that last part. satoru never really was good at lying, especially to you, but you figured he still had a point there.
so with a resigned exhale, you explained what happened. the curse you fought, the curse user ambushing you, all of it.
“did you at least get a good look at his face before you pummeled him to death, batman?” satoru sneered, his tone entirely sarcastic as he gave you a narrowed look that anybody else would have easily confused for judgement. you knew that satoru was masking his real emotions though, his tells never changed even as he grew older. and you knew that behind this snarky comment was a thinly veiled layer of concern.
“i didn’t care to chat much with him while he was trying to kill me… must’ve just been some punk that pissed off the wrong person.” you shrugged, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees.
“a punk that just happened to have a grade one curse at his disposal?” satoru hummed, running a large hand through his hair as he thought for a moment before letting out a snort. “actually, come to think of it, you probably made an enemy of suguru’s old followers after that stunt you pulled—“
“i told you i had nothing to do with that.” you groaned, rolling your eyes and standing up to walk out of the bathroom. satoru was still chuckling to himself, an oddly amused grin stretching out on his face as he got up and followed behind you.
“right, of course you didn’t. that’s why your ass was not hiding while everybody else was at shinjuku and kyoto that night… totally…” he deadpanned, making your brow twitch as you furrowed it in annoyance. 
“look,” you snarled, turning and facing satoru again as you stepped forward just a foot or two. “i don’t know what your student told you, but what could i have possibly gained by telling yuuta okkotsu that suguru was gonna be at jujutsu tech the night of his attack? it doesn’t benefit me in the slightest, and almost 10 months later i’m yet to find a good reason as to why you still believe that.” you snapped, your chest heaving as you tried to argue your perspective to satoru.
but much like him, you also have a lot of telltale signs when you’re lying. the slight tremble of your clenched fists was one of them.
satoru’s expression softened for just a moment, slowly inching himself forward as he crossed what remained of the short distance between you both to stand directly in front of you. his hands were twitching at his sides with the urge to grab yours while he speaks to you.
“have you considered that maybe that’s why i believe okkotsu… because all signs point to the simple fact that you didn’t need a reason to do it, which leaves the possibility that you did it simply because it was a good thing to do… because there’s still good in you.”
there was a level of sincerity in his voice that you don’t think you’ve heard from him in over 10 years. his cerulean eyes uncovered in the privacy of his  own home showed the depths of the ocean that he held in them, and you felt like you were drowning. your shoulders dropped a little bit under his gaze, blinking up at him with a tightlipped expression on your face. 
when you didn’t respond, satoru took a risk. he extended one of his hands forward, his fingertips brushing against the side of your wrist. a touch that was barely there but felt like it carried the weight of everything he wasn’t saying. your heart felt like it restarted with this simple act alone, so when you felt his fingers start to wrap around the base of your hand, you pulled your arm away before he lingered any longer. when you pulled your hand back he immediately retracted his own, flexing his hand at his side as if he was trying to shake off the sudden feeling of daggers in his nerve endings.
“well,” you cleared your throat after a moment, avoiding his gaze when you noticed you could visibly see the way his expression fell through the subtlest changes in his features. the slight twitch of his brows accompanied by the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed thickly. it’s all too much to handle right now. “i hate to disappoint, but that’s… not the case at all.” 
he knows you’re not being honest with him, or yourself for that matter. he knows that you know, but there’s something keeping the both of you from just… communicating this. the six eyes user never personally saw you interacting with yuuta okkotsu, but he could sense your cursed energy signature around his student for days after — it lingered in the air everywhere the youngest special grade sorcerer went and it was dizzying for satoru. 
he knew in some way or another, you had made the elective decision to warn okkotsu, a decision that ultimately paid off for their fight against suguru. but for some reason, you weren’t willing to admit that to him right now. so he decided not to push the subject any further for the time being.
the silence that followed was tense, palpable. satoru had clasped his hands behind his back, his gaze consistently holding yours. maybe he thinks that if he looks in your eyes long enough, you’ll crack. but you don’t give, especially because you’re aware of what he’s trying to do and avoiding this intense game of chicken with him like the plague. 
at one point, satoru stepped close to you again. before you could ask what he was doing he brought a hand up and cupped your chin, swiping his thumb along the corner of your lips. your eyes widened in shock, heart racing in anticipation as you felt his thumb move just underneath your lower lip. your mouth naturally parted open as a result of this, and then you clamped it shut again when he pulled his hand back and revealed the small trickle of blood he’d wiped off from beside the split in your lip.
“i’ll- i’ll just see myself out.” you mumbled quietly after a moment, taking another step back to increase the distance between you two. satoru blinked, straightening his back for a moment then sighing.
without a word he walked past you, back out of the hallway and towards the entrance of his home, where he simply opened his door and beckoned for you to leave. you inhaled a shaky breath and walked past him, back out onto the porch. you took a step forward, ready to leave, but then a thought crossed your mind. you turned around to say something else, but just as you did you were met with the door closing on your face. 
an abrupt end to the strangest and most despondent evening you’ve had in a long time.
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realm-of-rosie · 11 months
Text
💭 ways to develop productivity !!!
i. haikyuu [ tsukishima, kenma, bokuto and how they distract / motivate you ]
ii. fluff + scenarios / headcanons
iii. blog rules | masterlist
iv. ah studying, what i should be doing but i am instead fantasizing about studying. my quality time loving ass loved this HAHAHA also pretend i didnt use fUlL InTentIoN twice ok
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[ tsukishima kei ]
"try again,"
"no thank you,"
"shrimpy - "
"don't shrimpy me kei!"
"i will shrimpy you as much as i want until you answer the question,"
"but i don't know anymore," you whine, "all the words and numbers are merging together in my head, i can't tell which is which anymore,"
"you know this one," kei insists, grabbing your face in his hand and smushing your cheeks together, "remember the mnemonic you made?"
he releases your face before reading the question again and at your blank expression, kei sighs, taking his glasses off to stare at you, eye to eye.
"one kiss for every right answer,"
"...what?" you gawk.
"if you get it right, i'll give you a kiss,"
you squint suspicously at your boyfriend and he casually wipes his glasses before putting them on, "would you really?"
"come find out," his voice is teasing and singsong in reply, waving the flash cards in front of you tauntingly, "i'll even ask a new question so you get a fresh start,"
"deal!" you stick your pink out, butterflies fluttering in your stomach when his own links with yours, "just know that i will be so disappointed if you end up lying to me,"
"of course not, never to you," with a clear of his throat another question comes - one you answered with ease at the prospect of a reward.
"see?" kei smirks, "you totally have this,"
"is that all?" you raise your eyebrow, laughing when he pulls you into his arms to press a soft kiss on your lips, his fingers holding you by the chin.
you pull away first to catch a breath, and when you chase his lips again, he tuts.
"the deal was one kiss," he whispers cockily while tracing your bottom lip with his thumb, "that was already one,"
[ kozume kenma ]
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"ken, come on, i have to study," you sigh in half amusement, half exasperation because lord did you love your boyfriend but at this moment you wondered if murdering him was worth going to jail for x amount of years.
"so study?" he replies with a nonchalant tone, the clicking of the keys on his switch mixing with the music playing from your headphones.
"you're resting on my lap," you run your fingers through kenma's hair and you swear that almost purred in approval. you chuckle at that thought.
"and?"
"i don't have your concentrating skills,"
"and?"
you give him a deadpan look.
"oh, am i distracting you?"
"so help me god, i will smack that smirk off of your face if you don't get off of my lap,"
"alright, alright," he mumbles grumpily, curling up by himself in the corner of your bed still tapping away at his switch.
you, on the other hand, had slipped your headphones back on with the full intention to make it up to him once the project absorbing every ounce of your attention had finished, leaving yourself completely unaware of anything an everything happening in the room. fully immersed in the document in front of you, you began to work, slowly but surely slipping into an altered state of consciousness, and for a while, you were stuck in your work mindset.
well, that was before kenma snuck (there was actually no sneaking, you just didn't notice him move) into the nook in your desk beside your legs, giving you a mini heart attack when he suddenly leaned on your thigh.
you sigh, kissing your fingertips and passing it to him, in a way, by pressing them against the top of his head and patting him affectionately.
"just a little longer, ok? i promise,"
"take your time," kenma looks up at you with his ever observant cat-like eyes, "i just want to be close to you,"
"i guess i can't say no to you now," you tease, gently pinching his cheek and stroking it when he began to pout.
kenma leans into your touch and you tell yourself:
you totally could finish typing this with one hand.
[ bokuto koutaro ]
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"one kiss,"
"bo-" you start to laugh uncontrollably when you lift your head to look at your boyfriend - with the full intention to remind him that you had 5 minutes left until your next break - and the poor little pet the two of you shared that he involved in his quest to distract you.
"we've both been very lonely," bokuto sighs, smushing his face against the small animal he held up and you coo at the expression it had. whether it was displeasure or otherwise, you weren't even sure.
"she's frowning at you," you tease bokuto, glancing back at the open document on your screen and frowning at the red line under one of the words on the word doc, immediately correcting the word.
"she is not!" bokuto gasps, facing your poor pet and kissing its little face, "see?"
there's a moment of silence as you reread the body of your speech, eyebrows furrowing together as you go over one line in particular.
"...you're not looking,"
"hm?" you glance at bokuto then back at the screen before back at your boyfriend's frowny face and droopy hair, reaching out to run your hand through his hair with guilt pooling in your gut, "i'm sorry love, i promise, just a few more minutes-"
you are interrupted by the beeping of your alarm, signaling that it was time for the 30-minute break between your study hours and bokuto perks up immediately, laying your pet in the small play pen you had in your work room at pulling your out of your seat, not allowing you even a second to protest before he hugs you tightly and twirls you around in a circle.
"you're free at last!"
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greatooglymooglyyy · 1 month
Note
As the anon who requested the angst👀 YOU HAVE FED MY CRAVING GOD BLESSS😩 now i need the pt2👀
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Say Goodbye Part Two (Chris Sturniolo)
contains: cussing, angst, breakup emotions, arguing, fluff at the end
a/n: idk if this will be a good series or not or if I should wrap it up with the next one. let me know. love ya
read part one here
One Year Later:
“I can’t believe you’re actually going!” My best friend, Leah, exclaims excitedly. I sigh with exasperation as she beams at me with enough pride for a Nobel Peace Prize win.
“Jesus. Have I really become that much of a hermit? It’s just a bonfire.” I say, turning and rummaging through my closet. I was hoping to find something that doesn’t scream ‘I’m a loser homebody with no friends’, but so far, I'm coming up a bit short.
Leah laughs dryly, hopping off my bed to lean on the wall next to me. “Girl. Half our friend group thinks you moved to Europe or something, and the other half thinks you hate them because you never answer their calls.”
I wince at that, feeling a little bad about how antisocial I’ve been. Heartbreak does that to you, I guess, especially when your heartbreak becomes famous and won’t stop haunting your for you page. Phones just seemed like a lot of work after that.
I finally find a semi-decent fit and throw it on, turning to Leah for approval. She smiles and does her little excited dance before reaching for my hand.
“Have I ever told you, you’re the hottest bitch I know?”
I sigh dramatically, putting my hand to my cheek as if in thought.
“Once or twice, I believe. But tell me again-”
*************
I take a deep breath and stare out the window as Leah turns her car off. It’s dark, the only light from a few flashlights, people’s phones, and the blaze of the firepit. There are way more people than I expected and I give Leah an unimpressed look as we meet at the front of the car.
“Did I say kickback? I meant-”
“Shut the hell up,” I say with a laugh, linking my arm with hers as we walk down the path. I spot a few of our friends that I haven’t seen in a while and head towards them. Nate lifts his head and locks eyes with me, giving me a smile that slowly turns into a panicked look. He jogs over to me, arms open and a nervous smile on his face.
“Hi! What the hell? How have you been?” He says, looking around and making my stomach start to knot.
“Nate.”
“Hm?” He says, biting his nail.
“Please tell me, he’s not-”
“Natedog! Do we have any more marshmallows?”
His voice cuts through me like a knife instantly and I can almost feel time slow down. Over Nate’s shoulder, I find him and watch him casually stroll over to us. His hair is so much shorter than it was the last time we spoke, only a few inches peeking out from under his hat. The subtle lining of stubble around his jaw makes my knees weak as I wonder how much else has changed.
He finally clocks me when he’s only a few feet away, halting for a second and blinking slowly. I hold his eye contact, squaring my shoulder, determined to be mature about this. When he finally makes his way over to the three of us, Chris whistles low and slings an arm over Nate’s shoulder. “Damn. Looks like you found a ghost, huh, kid?”
Okay so maybe we’re not going to be mature.
“What are you doing here, Chris?” I say, crossing my arms. He raises an eyebrow and looks around theatrically. “At my best friend's party?”
I shoot a look over at Leah, who very pointedly does not meet my eye. I’ll deal with her later.
“In Boston. Aren't you more of a 90210 type these days?” I say, giving my best valley girl impression.
Chris clenches his jaw, clearly annoyed. “We come home all the time. We’d be here more if it wasn’t for our pod.”
I laugh sarcastically. “Sure. That’s something new to blame. Before Cut the Camera, there were always meetings or merch. I’m just surprised you could tear yourself away.”
“We make it back for what’s important.” He snaps.
I narrow my eyes at him now, stepping closer. “That’s interesting because you could never seem to make it home for me,” I say, throwing all the bitterness I’ve held onto into my words.
Chris snorts, leaning down so we are at eye level. “Guess I’ve always had my priorities straight then, huh?”
Ouch. I press down the hurt that shoots up my body, refusing to let it show on my face, and nod.
“At least you can finally admit it out loud,” I say, spinning on my heel and making my way back to the car.
I hear my name being called behind me but I don’t bother turning around until I feel a hand grab mine. I snatch away and look back, prepared to cuss Chris out, but it’s only Leah.
“I’m so sorry.” She says, reaching into her pocket for her car keys. “I swear Nate didn’t say he’d be here.”
I sigh and swing open the passenger door. “It’s fine. Can we please just go?" She nods and we both get in the car, preparing to drive off. But as soon as she starts to back out, we see Chris running towards the car. Leah hits the break and looks over at me, waiting to see what I want her to do. I sigh and tell her to wait, hoping he’s not coming to pick another fight.
Chris rounds the car, clearly out of breath, and swings open my door. He kneels, studying my profile, as I keep my eyes trained stubbornly out the windshield.
“What, Chris?”
He sighs, bracing his hands against the roof of the car.
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to be an asshole to you. We said we’d never do this.” I close my eyes at his words and the feeling of him so close.
“Will you look at me, please?” He asks softly. And I do, meeting his eyes and trying my hardest not to melt on the spot. He lifts his hand as if to cup my face but thinks better of it, lowering it awkwardly. I look down at his hand with longing before clearing my throat and giving him a strained smile.
“It’s fine, Chris. We have mutual friends. We’ll keep it casual.” I say with false brightness. He gives me a sad smile and shakes his head.
“No. There’s never going to be anything casual about us.” He replies and my heart aches at the sincerity in his voice. I swallow hard and shrug, turning back toward the front.
Chris laces our fingers together and my breath hitches at the first contact we’ve had in a year. I watch as he brings my hand to his lips and holds it there for a second, the moment stretching on. Leah clears her throat and we both jump, remembering we’re not alone. Not to mention, we’re supposed to be no contact.
Chris places my hand back on my lap, running his thumb over it, before pulling away and standing up.
“I’m going to call you tonight,” He begins, stepping back and placing a hand on the door. “and you’re going to answer.”
I scoff, unable to fully hide my smile at his cockiness.
“What makes you think that?”
He grins and tilts his head, “Because you said you didn’t ever want to hear from me again, but somehow you still know the name of our podcast.”
Well fuck. His smile grows as he shuts the door, waving at Leah and then jogging back down to the beach.
The silence in the car stretches for a minute before Leah puts the car back in reverse.
“So-”
“Don’t say a word, Leah.”
a/n: part three available now
taglist: @sturniolho @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @sturnssmuts
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jiminjamms · 1 month
Text
sex therapy :: 27. missed me?
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chapter tags/warnings: manipulative! naoya. therapist! toji. a very broken marriage (cont.). heavy angst but i am still not gege. infidelity/adultery. corruption. family drama.
word count: 3.0k
notes: i hope everyone has been swell! sending hugs to every corner of the world, and i hope my writing can be your little break from reality. i have also added more chapters to the fic since i cannot wrap up the story in the next few chapters, ha. enjoy! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo
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fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.
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12:33 PM Toji called 12:33 PM He told me that my daughter collapsed in front of the twins? 12:34 PM And you got into a fight with her? 12:34 PM How did that happen? 12:34 PM Are you with her right now? 12:37 PM Answer me please, I need to make sure she’s fine (Missed Call) 12:38 PM Can you phone me back asap? Thx 12:38 PM I’m still in the office right now, wrapped up the weekly meeting with the operating committee 01:01 PM Hello? 01:01 PM Hey, are you there? (Missed Call) 01:12 PM Toji called again, he gave me a rundown, and I have to say… 01:12 PM I’m very, very disappointed in you
Perhaps the better word would be terrified, but Naoya was truly and genuinely astounded.
How the fuck did this happen?
Naoya could feel his breathing grow shallow and his body turn cold as he read through each message from his Chief Operating Officer once, twice, three times. For a while, he stared at his chat history, his shaking thumb hovering over the screen while his mind went blank.
What started as an argument between just you and him now had your father involved. Not only your father, though—but also Mai, Maki, and now Toji?! How bothersome. Of course, you had to drag everyone into this! The world always had to revolve around you.
Naoya could not think straight as his chauffeur sped him back to the office from Mari’s apartment later that day. Even when he returned to his CEO suite, he could hardly focus on his conversations with department heads or strategy discussions with the Board when Daisuke L/N’s messages haunted him like an omnipresent and malevolent spirit.
‘I’m very, very disappointed in you.’
Goddamnit!
Naoya did not miss how your father was absent from the afternoon’s meetings either (although he was not stupid enough to point that out aloud at work when Naoya himself was involved in why), nor did he miss his own father’s narrowed gaze which seemingly lingered on him longer than usual.
Oh goodness, did he know, too?
No, he couldn’t have. Otherwise, Naobito Zenin would have pulled him to the side by now and given him a long and stern lecture.
Yet, when the early evening arrived, Naoya ultimately decided he must talk to you directly.
Not because he actually cared about your well-being. (Ha, as if.) But because he needed to quash the possibility that the rest of his family, particularly his Board Chairman father, could get a whiff of his quarrel with you before all hell broke loose.
Moments like these warranted him to push aside his dignity before things could worsen. 
His greatest fear would be for this recent argument to become a domino effect, as the downfall in this marriage would certainly place him in hot water.
With that, the current Zenin CEO then tapped his phone for your contact.
He needed to check up on you but ended up in voicemail. 
So, he dialed once more. 
Voicemail.
Again. 
Why were you not picking up his calls? 
You always found a way to irk him with how ungrateful you could be. Sure, there was no secret that you hated him. He would admit he was rude, belittling, and patronizing, treating you like a trophy to tote around, a doll to splay at his will, and a woman who needed to learn her place. He knew this and you knew this, because he exclusively tolerated this marriage as a means to accelerate his life. 
Despite everything, he made sure his wife was well-fed and looked after, only for you to throw a tantrum and now get his extended family involved? Ludicrous. Why not focus on the good things about him? Could you not see how he had attempted to reach you at least thirty times throughout the day? (His ultimate reason admittedly was selfish, but that’s not the point.)
Anywho, since when did you think that ignoring him was acceptable?
In a frustrated fit, Naoya tossed his phone into his desk’s paper heap and huffed.
To set things straight, he had made many sacrifices in his life to get to his seat today, like how—back in the day—he had to watch TV anchors praise his older cousin while sipping champagne in the Maldives with…whatever girlfriend he had been with at the time. Life had been hard, but he at last had everything he should’ve been entitled to since birth. This position, this family, and this company belonged to him, regardless of what stupid fucking traditions dictated.
Unsurprisingly, when Naoya took the helm, everyone scrutinized him. Sure, he might have lacked in a few (or, more accurately, a lot of…) regards since he hadn’t been built into the position the way Toji Zenin had been, but having you as his wife made him look good in family conversations and public discourse. 
He just needed a little more time to get people to trust him. Then, once all the pieces clicked into place, he resolved to toss this marriage to the side.
That ‘time,’ he hoped, would be soon.
For now, he just needed to keep you for as long as he sought fit. 
Buzz.
Well, speak of the devil.
You must finally be returning his call.
The sky had gone dark in the windows behind him now, but Naoya practically leaped from his seat, scrambling and shoving papers aside to find his phone buried beneath several printed reports. He hated how his hands quivered as he held the device, not that he could control himself at this point, and he snapped the moment he swiped at his screen.
“Where the hell are you?” Naoya hissed, clipped and impatient.
He did not get an immediate response, which infuriated him even more since he taught you to acknowledge him on the phone. 
But then, he learned why.
Because instead, Naoya heard a low and harrowing chuckle.
“I guess you missed me, kid.”
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The end to a marriage, for obvious reasons, would never be as glamorous as the start to one.
Many would dream for years about a wedding, but far fewer would think the same about a separation.
‘I'm going to file for a divorce.’
Admittedly, you were nervous when you announced the decision aloud in a crowded room for many eyes to see and ears to hear.
After all, even if you recognized the need for a change in your matrimony, you feared the consequences. You didn't want to cause your families to grow apart or your fathers to resent you. In addition, Naoya had been such a dominating fixture in your life these past few months, and he had led you to believe your days without him would be meaningless.
However, no longer could you set aside your emotions for his sake, nor would you expend extensive effort to salvage your marriage for other’s desires. Your sole purpose henceforth was to live a satisfied life without sacrificing more than what you already have for a husband who hardly look your way.
As a result, when you acknowledged divorce as the best possible solution to your demise, you were grateful for the emotional support and relieved faces from your worried father, the younger teenagers, and your trusted therapists.
Especially Toji. 
“Come with me,” the very man ordered once you stepped into his apartment’s corridor with him. 
Everyone else had been brought down to the apartment’s lower level after the earlier discussion in the master bedroom, with Megumi forced to take on the role as host in his father’s absence. The younger Fushiguro might be aloof and sometimes awkward, but word had gotten around that he was a good chef with his aunts nagging at him to prepare dinner.
“C’mon, don’t you want to show us what recipes you have learned on TikTok?” 
“...No, not really. Can we just order KFC?”
The other conversation that drifted upward was between your father and the other three therapists, which made sense given that they all used to be colleagues back when Toji had been the CEO. 
There was laughter, chatter, and the entire brouhaha brought ease to your nervous heart. 
“Ladies first,” Toji said at some point after you had trailed behind him. He had taken you several meters ahead, opening the door to invite you inside. “This is my home office.”
You did not yet see the point in him doing a House Tour 2.0, but you walked in upon his gesture anyway. The hardwood floor beneath you felt warm, your body heating up slightly despite the coolness in the air. 
Toji kept his office space as tidy as the rest of his abode. He had a white leather couch situated by the doorway and a workspace configuration to the side with desk lamps, an expensive chair, and a dual monitor setup. 
Above his screens, Toji probably had fifteen accolades in cherry wood frames, each to showcase his achievements as countless magazines named him the best leader, the top executive, and the most promising innovator. 
What caught your attention, however, was the wall beside his workstation. 
There was a corkboard. 
At first glance, the tacked-on magazine cutouts and photograph snippings seemed like a messy litter on the brown surface, but thin red strings—which made this look like a detective movie prop—connected one piece to another and suggested an order to the chaos. 
“What is this?” you asked, a question not directed to anyone in particular as you neared the corkboard without waiting for Toji’s permission.
Upon closer distance, the vague letterings and images became clear.
The newspaper cover story fastened at the very center read in big bold print: “Zenin Corporation Announces New CEO.” 
As the realization dawned that this was what Toji meant to show you, the man’s measured footsteps came up from behind you. He stopped at your side, watching how you inspected each element on the corkboard as though his room was your laboratory and he was your professor.
“The World Economic Forum estimates that more than 5% of global GDP is lost to corruption around the world each year,” he began, crossing his thick arms firmly over his chest. “Many articles you see here had been published online only to be taken down not even a few hours later. I suspect that Naoya this year alone has spent hundreds of thousands, if not millions, bribing the Japanese media to curate the public image he needs.” He then pointed around. “Look for yourself.”
You would have called Toji out for being a total creep if the objective of this collection had not been obvious. With scarlet threads weaving together to reveal an elaborate web of deceit, Toji had been curating an exposé.
There was one photo from your wedding day. Standing at the altar with Naoya, you looked so happy and blissful back then, the vibrant bouquet in your hands a colorful contrast against the pristine white of your Vera Wang wedding gown, your face radiant with a smile oblivious to the heartache that would come.
This publication, you have seen before.
What you did not recognize, however, were the articles dated from nearly a year ago, well before your wedding day, with even more printed five months ago, two months ago, one week ago…
…and reading the titles made you feel sick.
Japanese Hotshot Shares Intimate Kisses with Rumored Girlfriend Photos Reveal Recently Married Executive’s Secret Affair? Exclusive: Zenin Corporation CEO Spotted in Mexico with Alleged Lover
The accompanying pictures had the same two subjects in plain clothes and baseball caps, showing off little skin to reveal their identities to prying busybodies. Yet, upon an immediate glance, you recognized Naoya Zenin as the taller figure and assumed his very precious ladyfriend must be the other.
Photographers had snapped the two embracing each other in a cab’s backseat, sharing a secret kiss after a luxury mall date, and holding hands while stepping into a private plane. 
All to say, you were revolted. 
The more you mulled on these printouts, the more you could feel visceral disgust build in your chest. 
To think you once contemplated saving a marriage with a man like that. Whatever his plan was for him and this woman, did he intend to make you a side character to their romance until the day you would die?
Your gaze darted around, and the photo with the most unobstructed view of their faces placed you on pause.
All of a sudden, a hard lump formed in your throat because, Holy shit, she’s…stunning. 
Seeing the woman who your husband had had his sights on immediately unlocked a whole new level of insecurities within you. 
No wonder Naoya could not bring himself to be married to you when he had her. 
The woman was exquisite, to say the least. Despite the picture’s poor quality, you noticed her bright elegant face, plump pink lips, and long full lashes—precisely the characteristics that would turn heads in a crowded room. In fact, you secretly wished that you possessed her overflowing pulchritude as well.
If she was an angel from your point of view, she must also be in Naoya’s eyes all the more. 
You gingerly drew a circle around her with a finger.
“Is she his mistress?” 
Why did you even ask that? You already knew the answer. But, you wanted to confirm the facts rather than satisfy your curiosity. 
Meanwhile, Toji ran his index finger very slowly over his lower lip. 
He answered a while later. 
“Yes.” As you had expected. Then, he added, “But she’s also my ex-wife.”
What—
Your jaw dropped to the trenches. 
If you thought tonight had been filled with enough revelations, this one really sealed the deal. 
His…ex-wife?!
Unlike the man before you, hiding your deepest emotions had never been your forte. Instead, you had gone stiff as your mind reeled in shock.
“She’s…Tsumiki’s mom,” you said quietly at the realization. 
Yes, you have heard a lot about her. However, to make the connection between the lady in the picture and the woman who owned currently Naoya’s (and previously Toji’s) devotion stirred awake a thousand emotions. 
Anger. Bitterness. Resentment. 
Megumi had told you plenty about her before.
‘Treated me like a bag of shit, spent all my dad’s money on her shopping sprees every weekend, and even neglected her own daughter—my stepsister.’
Her pretty face could only go so far in disguising her dark heart. 
With this understanding, you finally grasped Toji’s bitterness when he first met you. How fickle fate had been to him. Comical, even! For his younger cousin to take his succession rights to the clan, his executive position in the company, and—to top everything off—his wife from his family. Only for you (of all eight billion people in the world) to show up at Toji Fushiguro’s office asking for sex therapy?
Now, you comprehended why Toji and Naoya despised each other. 
In addition, you understood why Toji and his colleagues had been suspicious of you. Trust takes time to build yet a moment to shatter, and all of them have had this trust broken before. By Naoya, yes. 
But also, by her.
“What’s her name?” you had to ask, ignoring the searing ache in your heart.
Your therapist, on the other hand, tried to play off his vexation by shoving his hands into his front pockets.
“Mari,” and also, “She still uses my last name.”
Wow. 
The audacity that some people in the world have.
“Here let me help.”
“Hm?”
At first, you did not quite get what Toji was referring to until he started tearing the magazine photos and newspaper stories.
Wordlessly, you gawked at him, both in confusion and astonishment.
“Why—”
Before you could complete the thought, Toji had placed everything into a neat stack and thrust the pile into your hands. “There,” he said with finality. “If you are to file for a divorce, take these to Naoya. See what the bastard has to say. Staying with him any longer would be a fatal flaw.”
Toji had never seen a single interaction between you and his cousin in person, yet he could confidently say your husband was the hamartia in your life. Perhaps the signs had always been obvious. Or perhaps, his recent experience in a toxic marriage allowed Toji to notice the red flags in yours from miles away.
“If you give him too much time, he’ll come up with his offenses,” he went on. “We don’t need to outfight him, though. We simply need to outthink him.”
Something about Toji’s emerald eyes gleamed in a way you had not seen before. 
It was a different side to him, one where he planned and strategized, a flickering core of the businessman he used to be.
“Hi.” 
You and Toji froze at the sound.
Megumi’s voice had startled you two as the boy peered in from the hallway, waving a phone in his hand—your phone. “Sorry to interrupt but, uh, he called again.”
Interestingly enough, Megumi did not need to explicitly mention a name for you all to know who he referred to. As your screen flickered on, you noticed the numerous missed calls and text messages that had flooded your notifications, all from one particular culprit, no doubt. 
Instead of embarrassment, your body surged with aggravation at how your husband suddenly seemed desperate to know your whereabouts. 
So now he cared, huh?
Before you could retrace your steps towards the door, however, Toji had already done so. He retrieved the device from his son’s hands and started dialing a number from your phone. 
You tried to stop him. “Hey, what are you—”
But Toji dismissed you, pressing your phone to his ear as the call began to ring, and his lips curled into a wicked grin when the other line must have picked up.
“I guess you missed me, kid.”
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end notes: I am excited to show the interaction between Toji and Naoya—I have been thinking about their conversation for a long time! This chapter is less of a whirlwind and more of a setup for the rest to come. Thank you for your support!
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b-o-e · 10 months
Text
alone with you, take two
Wally Darling x Reader
Warnings: jealous wally, frustrating neighbours, mwah mwah kissy smooches!!
although it is not necessary, I highly suggest reading my fics in their recommended order for the best experience! here is the link to all my silly lil wally fics in order. this is #11 :)
Jealousy isn’t a frequent feeling for Wally, but sometimes, things get on his nerves.
“Hun, would you mind helping me with these treats please?”
Your attention was drawn away from Wally, once again. 
It was a Friday night, and the neighbourhood was gathered for their weekly get together, of course. Lots of eating, game playing, and mingling going on.
You left Wally’s side, assuring him you would be right back, off to assist Poppy with whatever it was she needed.
Wally blew out an irritated huff.
And this get together seemed to mean he barely got to steal any of you for himself.
Everyone was taking you left and right. ‘Hey, come play a game with us!’ ‘Would you help me set these up?’ ‘Come take a look at this!’ No matter what, it was one thing or another, back to back to back.
Now, despite having quite a way with words, Wally still didn’t know how to use them, at times.
Occasionally, he didn’t know how to ask for things, particularly when it comes to a new challenge he's unsure of how to approach. He just… didn’t. So, what would he do instead?
He would stare.
And he would stare.
And he would stare.
He would stare, until the other person picked up on his silent plea for assistance. Or, until it will have been long enough where he figures it out himself.
This was the predicament you were in now. Although, unfortunately for Wally, you were still yet to notice you were in any sort of predicament at all.
He wasn’t sure how long it had been. He almost couldn’t complain, because it provided an extra good excuse to look at you. At the same time, he was getting frustrated, because how haven’t you realized yet? 
Well, actually, maybe you had. But, whenever it seemed like you were going to inquire, someone stole your attention away, which would irk Wally just a little bit more.
It’s happened multiple times now. By just about everyone. Twice, by most! Were they doing it on purpose, at this point? Wally was beginning to question.
For now, Wally watched and waited. And watched and waited. And watched and waited. Until finally, you were finished helping Poppy and on your way back over to him. So, he seized his opportunity.
“Would you—” he began, only to be cut off.
“Hey pipsqueak! Come play a quick round with Eddie n I!” 
If looks could kill, Barnaby would’ve been dead where he stood.
“Deal me in, too!” Howdy raised a hand, making his way over to the table, stretching his other arms and cracking his knuckles with confidence.
“Do you get one or two hands, with two sets of arms?”
“Actually,” you glanced at Wally, looking over at the group again. “Give him two! He can play for me, I’ll hop in later,” 
“Which hand do you wanna be, kiddo?”
“Uh… top? Cause I’m on top, y’know?”
Howdy sniggered.
“Okay, I’ll give you the bottom hand.”
“Jeez. Ask me for my fancy, just to ignore it,” you clicked your tongue in amusement, looking at Wally. He gazed back at you, eyes hopeful. Was he finally getting your attention? All to himself? “What did you want to say, sorry?”
Wally sighed with relief. Finally!
“Would you li–”
“Starlight! Won’t you come join Julie and I’s game?” Sally called out to you.
Nope.
Wally had it.
As you opened your mouth to reply, Wally took you by the hand, answering for you.
“Later.”
His tone was sharp and curt as he stormed toward the door, leading you behind him.
No more distractions.
Wally pulled you along, pausing briefly at the exit and looking at you, ensuring you were fine with this. Your eyes met his, and although surprised and confused, you understood the silent question and gave him a nod to go on.
The two of you stepped outside, walking briskly into the cool night. A sigh of relief left Wally, glad to finally be away from his beloved although slightly infuriating neighbours. When he decided the two of you had wandered far enough, he slowed his pace, sucking in a breath of the refreshing air. He looked at you to apologize for being so brash, only to pause.
You were staring at him, a grin growing on your face.
“Is this what I think it is?” you questioned him. His brows furrowed in puzzlement.
“Were you getting jealous in there, Wally?”
He gaped at the accusation. Jealous? Him? He opened his mouth to shut it down, only to hesitate.
Was he jealous?
His cheeks heated as realization hit him. He gaped like a fish, trying to think of a reasonable defense for himself, to no avail.
“... they were doing it on purpose,” he could only claim, deflating. 
“They were being quite rude, weren’t they?” you empathized with a giggle. “I’m sorry,”
“It’s not your fault,” he shook his head, sure of that much. “But they kept pulling you away, this way and that way. I think that I was deserving of a turn,”
“Well, no matter, now we are alone,” you smiled. “No more interruptions. What would you like, Wally?” you asked him.
He blanked.
Right.
The reason he wanted your attention in the first place.
Wally’s head dipped down shyly, his fingers gently toying with your own.
How does he say it?
He returned his gaze back to your eyes. You were waiting patiently for him to speak. No rush at all. You never did.
“I wanted to step outside with you,” he said, speaking slow as he took the time to figure out his words.
“I wanted to spend some time away, just you and I,” he continued. “Everyone was demanding your attention, but I wanted some for myself. That sounds quite selfish now that I say it out loud, doesn’t it?” He mumbled.
“I don’t think you’re being selfish at all,” you begged to differ. “I think that you have a right to desire some extra attention from me. We are together, after all. And, that being said, you are my top priority,” 
“As you are mine,” Wally nodded, giving your hand a squeeze.
“So, you just wanted to spend some time together?” You hummed softly, smiling at him. “I always quite like that idea,”
“Well, not quite…” he trailed along sheepishly, looking down at your interlocked hands.
“What would that be, Darling?”
“I wanted to kiss you,” he admitted.
“To kiss me?”
He nodded.
“Well, why don’t you, then?”
He peeked up at you.
“... might I?”
“Of course,” you giggled. 
“… now I’m nervous,” he uttered bashfully, gazing downward as he shyly rubbed the back of his neck. You grinned in amusement, leaning closer to him.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” You whispered, placing your finger under his chin to redirect his attention to you. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, gazing into yours as he licked his dry lips.
“Please?” He murmured out. 
With a smile, you tilted his chin up a bit more, closing the gap between you and pressing your lips to his in a sweet, short kiss. He went a little rigid before he relaxed into it, though he didn’t have quite enough time to reciprocate before you moved to break the kiss. 
As you began to pull away, his hand found the side of your neck, not ready for you to leave just yet. He led you back in before you went too far, his lips met yours once again, bringing you in for another kiss, slow and loving.
Moments later, Wally pulled away, more content this time. He gazed at you, any hint of his prior frustration nowhere to be seen anymore, nothing but a look of fondness left remaining in his eyes. He studied you, from your flushed cheeks to your small smile, meeting your equally love filled eyes.
“Are you satisfied now?” You asked with a light teasing tone, rubbing at your warm cheek as if it would make your embarrassed blush fade away. Wally clicked his tongue, glancing towards the noisy home down the way.
“Mmm, I’m not sure…” he hummed with a playful tone, looking back at you with a glint in his eyes.  “I think that I deserve you for some time more. How does another kiss sound to you? Then, maybe I’ll be satisfied,”
hi! hello! did i scare you? i'm back from the dead to offer you this! i hope that you enjoyed! burnout is real, bahaha! if you are new, i have some other fics along these lines you can read as well!
here is a link to my silly lil wally fics in their recommended order if you would like :) these can also be found on my ao3 B) I also have a ko-fi if you'd like to support me!
also!!! ART!!! people made art based on my fics!!! MIND BLOWING!!! check them out, super duper cool!
@leon-dechino created this one and this one! SO cool, mind boggling, makes me so happy gavhxsah
@sunkyss created this one! AHHH! so wild man, i still can't believe it bahaha! i highly suggest you check both of them out! they have so many cool works on top of these!
alas! 'tis all for now! i hope to see you soon! MWAH! until next time <3
Posted Wednesday, June 7, 2023 at 2:07 PM
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foreveralbon · 3 months
Text
“remember that night?” - ms47
pairing: mick schumacher x ex!reader
in which they spend one last night together
word count: 2.4k
content warnings: none, lazy writing towards the middle i’m sorry
song: remember that night? by sara kays
masterlist
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you don’t know how long it took to get over him the first time, but you remember how hard it was. sleepless nights spent crying and reading old text messages, sad songs made as a soundtrack for each of your memories, endless rants to your friends about how you were so good together and you don’t know what went wrong.
eventually, you found it was easier to just forget about him than to patch up the hole shaped like him in your heart. it worked - you hadn’t thought of him in the weeks since you finally deleted all his photos and messages from your phone. 
his contact was the one thing you didn’t delete though, but even then, when your phone starts ringing on a quiet tuesday night, you never would’ve expected it to be him. 
you start to reach for your phone to mute the call, then pause, waiting to see if it would keep ringing. then the buzzing stops, and it’s just his name sitting as a missed call in your notifications. you contemplate messaging him to see if everything is okay, but quickly decide against it. 
but maybe it’s the sight of the blue heart still next to his name, or the sudden longing you feel at the realisation you were so close to hearing his voice again after so long that it strikes something in your chest and compels you to pick up your phone and dial back his number. 
it rings once, twice, and you’re already anticipating his voice after the third ring. he’s never let it ring more than three times when it comes to you. 
“liebling?” his voice is raspy, like it how it used to be when he was close to falling asleep or had just woken up. the sound of your old nickname masked in the voice you once so ardently loved makes you grip your phone tighter in both hands as you try to stop yourself from saying something stupid. “y/n? are you there?”
“hi, mick,” you finally breathe out. 
“hi. i didn’t think you’d answer.” and you must be imagining it but as his voice starts to clear, you can hear the underlying hints of a smile in his tone. 
“is everything okay?”
“yes. i just… i mean you can hang up if you want.” then he falters. “no, actually. can i pick you up?”
“like… now?” it’s almost 11pm, and while you’re nowhere close to sleeping, it’s sure as hell not a time you go out. 
“yes.”
“you’re in town?”
“yes,” he repeats. 
“why?”
“because why not?” 
you’re tempted to say yes, even though seeing him again would just unravel all the effort you put into getting over him. but he’s always had that effect on you, where because of him, you make stupid decisions. the first was falling in love with him. the next? 
“yeah,” you say quickly before you can take it back. 
there’s rustling on his side of the call as he makes his way around the house. “i’ll be there in thirty minutes. dress warm, it’s going to rain out.”
you’re about to thank him for the tip when he hangs up, leaving you alone to wonder what the fuck you just got yourself into. just then, it starts to pour. 
his car pulls up in front of your house forty minutes later. the driver’s door slams as he gets out, rounding the car to open your door for you. 
“hi.”
“hey,” he grins at you, jacket and beanie engulfing his large frame. he gives you a quick side hug and even through all your layers, every nerve in your body is set off at his touch. 
he waits for you to get in the car and you realise that he put on the seat warmer for you, just how you liked it when it was cold out. 
the gesture warms your body and face. you hadn’t thought he’d remember that about you, but that was only one thing to add to tonight’s list of surprises. 
he’s quiet when he gets in, starts up the car and drives away from the curb, before asking, “how’ve you been?”
“i’m good. i got laid off a while ago, but i start a new job on friday. what about you? i heard you’re a reserve driver for mercedes now?”
he glances over at you, raises a brow. “you still keep up with formula one?”
“i like the drama,” you shrug.
he whistles lowly. “drive to survive fan over here, guys. tell me, what’s drs?”
“no,” you say softly. “someone i used to care about recommended it to me.”
and even though you said used to, he suppresses a smile at the fact that you’ve kept something from your relationship close to you. 
you make small talk for a while - how’s his mother, father? is angie doing well? how’s the past seven months fared you? you fire questions back and forth between each other and for a while, there’s a semblance of normality in whatever is going on between you. 
soon, he notices the way you shiver slightly despite him having run the heater. 
“are you cold? here, take my beanie.” he tugs his beanie off his head before giving it to you to put on. you take it gratefully, slipping it on. 
you both fall silent for a second, and just as you open your mouth to ask him what the hell you’re doing here, he’s blurting out, “why did you call me back?”
you freeze. that hadn’t been what you were expecting. but you reckon if there’s a time for honesty, it’s now. “because i missed you.”
you catch the way he throws his head back in relief, a grin spreading across his face. “why did you call in the first place?” you ask. 
“because i missed you.” he states simply. truthfully. 
it’s like a weight has been taken off your chest at your admission. in that little moment, with him by your side, you feel content. happier than you’ve been in a long time. it’s a brave move when he nudges his hand against yours, but you accept it quickly, placing your palm over his. 
you look out the window as he drives, headlights casting shadows over the rainy streets. through the dim lighting you can make out the familiar scenery. 
the long winding road brings back memories of singing karaoke in the car, conversations with no meaning and driving around with no place to be and nowhere you wanted to go, so long as you were with each other.  
you recognise the path he’s taking - towards the small observation point that overlooks the whole town. you know he’s going to swing by the 24 hour ice cream shop on the way there, and there when you realise he’s taking you out for a night of old traditions. 
the car rolls to the stop and then he pats your thigh with an i’ll be back, running out into the rain to the store before you can even remind him of your order. you doubt he’s forgotten. and in his absence, you can’t help but smile to yourself at his kind words and sweeter gestures, despite knowing better. despite knowing that going with him was stupid and risky and chances are, when you leave him in the morning, you’re going to leave with a broken heart. 
your thoughts are cut off by mick sliding back into his seat, a cup of chocolate chip ice cream in one hand, a cone of strawberry in the other. 
“strawberry, please,” you say and he hands you the cone, watches you take it then wrinkle your nose before grabbing at the choc chip. 
his laughter rings through the car, clear through the pounding rain and you’re sure you’ve never heard something more joyful than in that moment. “you’re so predictable.” 
mick drives you to the lookout so you can watch the views as you eat. you sit in silence at the top, “strawberries & cigarettes” by troye sivan playing softly from the radio. the town is quiet below you too, lit by the starry night sky, only a few stray lights on in the odd night owls’ home. it’s peaceful and calm, and you’re content with mick and for moment all feels right, despite everything about your night being completely wrong. 
and when you’re both done, he turns you, brows furrowing as he realises something. 
his hand cups your chin, guiding you to look at him. “you’ve got a little…” he mutters, thumb gently swiping the ice cream from the corner of your mouth. 
“thank you,” you whisper. his gaze flicks across your face - from your eyes to your mouth then back again. you find yourself mimicking his actions and there’s an intense panging in your chest when your eyes meet his again. 
“i want you back.” 
your heart plummets - those were the words you’d been dreading to hear. “mick, don’t say that. don’t do that to me.”
he rears back at the sudden sharpness of your tone, and you see the exact moment he begins to disassociate, his composure breaking and demeanour falling. “but i do, i’ve always-”
“mick, can you please not?” you beg. you reach up to hold his face so that his gaze is focused solely on you. “what we had, mick, it was good. but when we ended, it hurt me, because losing you felt like losing air. yes, i miss you but missing you is different to still wanting you. i can’t afford to want you again because it might just kill me this time.”
“liebling-”
“this, right now, is good. so can we please keep it just like this? nothing more.”
it’s as though the light in his eyes dim at your words and he just nods, before turning away and turning the ignition on. his voice is hoarse when he says, “it’s way too late. let me take you back home.”
an apology is at the tip of your tongue - if you take back what you said, what would change between you two? you didn’t want to go back to what you used to be, you just wanted him. but wanting him again is impossible. you don’t know what to do; you just want him to stop frowning. so you reach out for his hand, and he lets your fingers find home in his palm before closing his fist around yours. 
“mick, we’re okay,” you reassure. “but we can’t do this again.” 
he nods again, swallowing deeply. “i understand.” 
and you leave it at that. 
the ride home is silent and tense but not awkward. things are never awkward with mick. he parks in your driveway before getting out of the car to open your door. you step out of the car with a thank you and stop in front of him. it’s still raining heavily, so he goes to pull the beanie he gave you further down your head, but stops halfway to rest his palms on your cheeks. 
“can i have a hug?” 
and with mick’s hands cradling your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks, deep blue eyes staring into yours, you have no choice but to nod, and he practically falls into your hold, arms dropping to wrap around your waist and keep himself steady. “nothing more.”
“then i just need this,” he mumbles into your neck. but you know it’s more than that, so you just hold him. you feel his body loosen as he relaxes, breaths evening out. he emanates warmth and goodness and-
“it’s getting late,” he groans, tearing himself off you. “i have to go.” 
you don’t want him to, you’d much rather stay wrapped up in this moment forever. wrapped up in him forever. but you know better so you just nod. “okay. okay.”
he leans forward as though to kiss you, but you flatten a hand to his chest. “mick…” you warn lowly. 
his eyes soften before he whispers an apology and presses a light, barely there kiss to your cheek. he moves to reach behind you and get your things, then hesitates for a second. 
and then his lips are crashing to yours in a desperate kiss, and he’s telling you every i’m sorry, i love you, it’s okay through it. it’s frantic and passionate and everything you’ve loved about him since you first met him. so you grip onto his jacket, pressing into his body as much as you possibly can, savouring the moment because you know you’re never going to have another like it.
he pulls away first, resting his forehead on yours, before handing you your things, even going so far as to tugging your jacket tighter around your body. so my girl doesn’t get sick. 
even though you’re just in your driveway, two steps away from warmth, you’d stay standing in the pouring rain just to keep his hands on you longer. 
“i’ll see you around, yeah?” his hand is warm in yours when he holds it for the last time, tightening his fingers as though it would meld your bodies together and you’d never have to be separated again. and then mick is pulling away from you one last time, his face unreadable, and his smile never quite reaching his eyes. 
the rain starts to come down harder, soaking you cold to the bone, and you turn around, making a beeline for your front door. you’d never say it out loud but you’re glad it rained - it’s the only thing that keeps you from running right back into his arms. 
it’s harder to move on from him this time. 
months later, no matter how hard you try, that night never slips from your memory. you can recall every brush of his fingertips against yours, the calloused pad of his thumb on your skin, and the heavy weight of his hand on your thigh when you two finally became comfortable again in each other’s presence. the way his voice changed and his laughter erupted whenever you smiled at him is engraved into your brain, and you’re sure the way he kissed you became your lifeline.  
most of all, you remember the way his face fell when you pushed him away again, his dejected sigh as he accepted your decision, blue eyes electric with so many words left unspoken as you turned away one last time. 
but the one thing you desperately try to forget is the way he lingered in the driveway, waiting for you to come back. 
author’s note: thank youuuu @disneyprincemuke i don’t know how i feel about this but i hope i didnt disappoint
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