#I just can’t believe I even suggested come in this past week I would have given everyone the bubonic plague only
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Part 1 | Fic masterlist | Masterlist
SUCROSE
Chapter 2: Sugary
Paring: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Word account: 2005
Summary: Where the nicknames came from, how they meet, starts. (They live in the same building, in the same corridor, just in front of one another… which helps the friendship but couldn't stop Dr. Reid from falling in love)
Warnings: Fluff, friends to lovers, anxiety, mentions of menstruation and coffee facts?
A/N: English is not my first language. Reblog, like and comment. I am accepting suggestions for next parts. Please be nice. Past in italic. Gif is not mine, credits to the owner.
Spencer’s point of view
It has been weeks since Morgan met my neighbor and he can’t just drop it aside. At least he has capited a secret so far.
“I am just curious. That 's all. The girl has the key of your place and you never mentioned her.”
“I did talk about her…”
It's a murmur, Morgan almost can't hear it, maybe things were better when no one knew she existed besides me.
“She called you Sugarpout… Does Pretty Boy have a Lady?”
There is mocking in his tone, and a little of happiness.
“What exactly are you asking Morgan?”
“Are you two dating?”
“She is my friend, we ain't dating”
“Oh, pitty, she is beautiful, maybe I should gave a shot, she is very talkative”
“Leave the girl alone Derek.”
“Why? Are you jealous? Worried that I stil her? We could be your couple's best friend. Me and her would make cute babies”
“I am not jealous. Just shut up”
He leaves me be, we take care of paperwork, but he can't stop, it's like I can hear the engineers of his brain thinking.
“Ok, I just really got to know, where Sugarpout came from? I can't stop thinking about that”
“Why? Is just a nickname”
“A special nickname”
“Why does it matter to you?”
“Why so much secret?”
The truth is, I don’t really know why, where, when it all started. Is if we have being knowing each other even before we existed.
—----------------------------------------------------------
It was a rainy day, and I was just getting to my building when a strange woman got under my umbrella tugging herself at me.
“My savior. Could you leave me there? To that building?”
Was my building… is she a stalker?
“Sorry for just throwing myself at you. Is just I am made from sugar, so I could have melted with the rain”
Ok, she gots a weird sense of humor. Doesn’t she know about the danger of talking with strangers? That is one of the reasons I get so much work to do. She smells nice though… What am I thinking? Why is she staring at me? Say something Spencer!
“Ahn… yes… I was just going that way too.”
We walk together to the building and she opens the door, almost closing it in my face.
“Sorry. Why are you coming in?”
“I live here”
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know that. I am a new resident. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too”
She didn’t try to shake my hand… so she respects boundaries and personal space the same way she doesn’t do that? She is so confusing, she seems like a very complex human being.
We both get to the elevator and she presses the button… is my floor button… How I didn’t know about someone moving to my floor? Maybe because I spent the last three days away in a case. The elevator stops and she gets out with me behind her, observing her body language. Wait a minute, that’s… she lives just in front of me.
“Are you following me?”
“Ehn…” she catch me staring, I am probably very red and more awkward then the normal me. “No, no. It's just, we are neighbors, I live here, just across the hall.”
She keeps looking at me, like if she is not sure to believe me or not, just open your damn door Spencer, and prove you ain't lying.
“See?”
“Nice place, very organized…”
When she ends up beside me? Her eyes run across my place, making quick analysis scanning what she can see by the door.
“Ok, I will live you be, sorry for being so intrusive, and thanks for the umbrella ride.”
“You’re welcome. Also, welcome to the building”
She smiles, her smile is pretty.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There is a nock on my door. Weird, I basically don’t get visited. I open it slowly and there she is the rain day girl, and she has something in hands.
“Hi, I made some cookies, and decided to give you some, since you were so nice to me that day”
“Oh, thanks.” I was very surprised. “You didn’t have to.”
“No problem, it is a pleasure. I hope you like them. It is the classic one, with chocolate drips.”
“It was very thoughtful of you. I really appreciate it.”
I take it from her hands, every time I see her there is that warm feeling, she is always so nice to me.
“How is the moving going?”
“Slow, I'm still putting things in place. The kitchen is almost ready. I am not in a rush to finish it to be honest. Just, baby steps, one day at a time…”
“Well, it is your space, your stuff, it is alright going slow, its you, it should go in your pace”
“Thanks. Well, when you finish the cookies you can return the ball.”
—--------------------------------------------------------------
The cookies were the most delicious ones I have eaten in my life. I made sure to compliment her, and the way she smiles and giggles, makes my heart beat faster in my chest.
Today I discovered that I am out of sugar, so why don't I go to the new girl? She made cookies and other delicious stuff she is always happy to share with me, for sure she has sugar.
“Just a cup? Sure Sweetie, I will go grab it for you, make yourself comfortable.”
I shyly enter her house, the first thing that hits me is the smell, I think haven smell exactly like it, I can see she still has a few boxes, but all the essentials are displayed, a kindle, books, a lot of types of books, fantasy, biography, history, classics… she also has a few plants, no much decoration… Why is that hard profile her?
“Here you go, a cup of sugar to my sweet boy”
I asked her sugar a lot of other times after that, just to see her, to feel my blood run in my veins, the fast piece of my heart, the smell invading my nose, that warm feeling.
—----------------------------------------------------------------
“Hi, so, do you have plans for today?”
She was standing outside my door, smiling at me, eyes glowing. How can she always be so beautiful?
“No. I did not plan anything for today.”
“Great. What do you say about taking me to a coffee shop? Any coffee you do like to go. Wanna know more about my neighbor.”
“Hm… Yeah, sure. I will just grab my things”
We go to a nearby coffeehouse and order our drinks while we have small talk.
“I love those cloudy and rainy days, so calm…”
Our orders get to the table and she points out when I drink my full of sugar cup of coffee
“Someone really likes sugar.” She smiles and is like electricity running me. “I can't drink black coffee, it gives me an awful headache.”
“Actually. Caffeine withdrawal could be an important but often overlooked cause of headache.”
She nods in agreement.
“People say that I am just being silly or have an infant paladar. I have tried a lot of types of black coffee, but nothing worked. So i decided just to drink my milk coffee, tha latte”
“Caffeine or 1,3,7-trimethylxanthine is totally, actually 99% and rapidly absorbed; it reaches the highest plasma concentrations after 30-60 minutes of ingestion, but this duration can be shorter or longer due to the variation in gastric emptying time. The half-life of caffeine fluctuates between 2.5 and 4.5 hours in young individuals but can be longer in elderly. Caffeine can cross all biological membranes including blood-brain barrier because of its lipophilic character. Only a very small amount of caffeine is excreted in the urine. It is metabolized in the liver, mainly by the cytochrome P450 1A2, to paraxanthine, theobromine, theophylline, and further to urates. Caffeine acts on the brain and the heart by blocking adenosine receptors and inhibiting phosphodiesterase. It is considered the most common psychostimulant, it enhances concentration, improves mood and energy, induces wakefulness, and enhances exercise performance. It can also trigger anxiety, tachycardia, and hypertension. Caffeine is known to cause dependence and withdrawal symptoms such as fatigue and headache.”
Oh, no, no. She is going to think I am such a weirdo now. Couldn't I just keep my mouth shut? Things were good, where nice, and now I ruin it all.
“I have heard that coffee was addictive, but I didn’t know it was absorbed that fast, or that it didn't get expelled out of our body by urine like most of the other drinks. Maybe one of those things causes my headache every time I try to drink black coffee”
“Caffeine also narrows blood vessels that surround the brain. That is its link to headache. In some types of headaches, the blood vessels in the brain dilate, or swell. They expand into the surrounding tissues, which triggers pain.”
Why can’t I shut my mouth, she is lookin at me. She will avoid me like the plague. Why am I like that? Can’t have anything nice, ever! It is like I can’t stop, and she does not stop me, so I just keep rumbling.
“Headaches in general are a common problem for reproductive age women. Migraine headaches are 3 times more common in women than men in this age group with the difference believed to be the result of hormonal fluctuations. In women with spontaneous ovulatory cycles, headaches have been documented to occur more frequently immediately before and during the first few days of menses. Approximately half of women with migraine headaches report their occurrence associated with menstruation, with decreasing estradiol levels hypothesized as the etiologic factor. Today's low-dose oral contraceptives all contain the same estrogen component (ethinyl estradiol [EE]) but vary in the progestin component. Until recently, all progestins in OCs, the oral contraceptives (norethindrone, levonorgestrel, desogestrel, and norgestimate) were derivatives of 19-nortestosterone. A novel OC with the progestin drosperinone (DRSP) is not derived from 19-nortestosterone, but instead derived from spironolactone. This DRSP-containing OC has been shown in a large placebo-controlled trial to significantly improve the physical and behavioral symptoms of premenstrual syndrome (PMS) and premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD) attributed to its unique antimineralocorticoid activity. This improvement in symptoms has been attributed to the antimineralocorticoid activity of the spironolactone-derived DRSP. Spironolactone is the only diuretic shown in randomized placebo-controlled trials to improve the behavioral and physical symptoms of PMS. While studies using validated instruments have shown improvement in PMS/PMDD with DRSP-containing OCs, headaches have not been specifically addressed.”
I managed to hold myself for a few seconds and she finally speaks something.
“Are you trying to mansplain my menstruation cycle to me?”
“No, no… that's not it, I was just…”
“It is ok, I believe you”
She smiles, how her chicks don’t hurt with how much she smiles? Why, how is her smile always so captive.
“Spironolactone. I didn’t know about the diuretic in the OCs. It is interesting to know that, I have noticed that when I drink more water my period of blood in the menstrual cycle feels less worse than normally does.”
She… she paid attention, and… interacted? My heart hammers as a symphony in my chest. It seems the whole word is more worm, as if I had been in the cold dark without releasing it until she showed up illuminating everything and involved me with a cozy blanket proofing there is more, what truly could my life be, how good could it be.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------
From that day, I knew I was different, happier, she became a constant thought, always making everything better, the world more supportable. I felt the butterflies, the tingling, that stupid and uncontrollable happiness, the craving of being in contact with her, the maximum and anyway I could. It just happened, little by little. With no rush, never.
“Hey, Kid.”
Morgan snaps his fingers in front of my eyes.
“Where did this pretty brain of yours was?”
The teasing again, but we hadn’t had time, JJ passed rushing calling for a case, urgent.
A/N: Did you guys like the dades I insert? I had to read a few articles, I have the links, they will be right below. Thanks for the support. If you like the little facts let me know so then maybe I will bring more (cause in my opinion is a very Spencer Reid thing to do, talk about the facts.)
Links:
https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1663116/
https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S1051227621000339
https://www.uclahealth.org/news/caffeine-connection-between-coffee-and-headaches#:~:text=Caffeine%20also%20narrows%20blood%20vessels,surrounding%20tissues%2C%20which%20triggers%20pain.
https://headachejournal.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1111/j.1526-4610.2007.00650.x
#criminal minds#criminalminds#doctor spencer reid#dr spencer reid fluff#spencer reid#spencer reid criminal minds#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fanfic
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After being sick all week and working from home I’m destroyed that I actually have to GO BACK
#for the record this would never have been allowed when I was working for a school district so I’m not actually complaining#they would have made me use sick leave but still call into meetings and do do work#but here they just trusted me to wfh it’s incredible#I only complain because like any sane person I just don’t want to work but.#I’m very lucky.#also my office is like less than 10 miles from where I live so#really the only reason they said stay home is because on my Wednesday 1:1 meeting with my boss she saw me and was like “’oh you can wfh 🥹’#so I don’t alarm my coworkers which mood because I was honestly DEATHLY ILL this week no faking#like real full fledged flu#and didn’t realize#I’m still not 100% like I still get winded and can’t finish a normal meal I typically could#but yeah I’m just saying I’m bitching but I’m actually very luck and in a much better place work wise than I was before#I just can’t believe I even suggested come in this past week I would have given everyone the bubonic plague only#like I need to get out of the mindset of if I test negative for Covid then I’m fine but they’ve conditioned us#I forgot the full on flu can also kill people and at the very least incapacitate them for a week
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eavesdropping
gojo satoru x fem!reader
summary: seriously, the door was already open
warnings: satoru is an idiot, as per usual, sad tsumiki :(
last part | next part
*
year one.
satoru approaches the door to tsumiki’s room and he pauses.
after two weeks straight with the kids, you’d finally returned back to work--leaving the three of them to fend for themselves for the day--but you'd insisted on coming over for dinner.
to which satoru suggested, for the twentieth time, that you might as well stay the night. might as well move in already.
really, there's plenty of space.
but you'd pinched his arm and pushed past him at the door, telling the kids that you brought dinner. you didn't stay behind to watch satoru cradle his arm or smile at the back of your head.
and, seriously, he doesn't mean to eavesdrop (if he meant to he would've planned out something much more sophisticated than this) but the door is already slightly cracked.
“—but megumi doesn’t like it," he hears tsumiki say, soft and concerned. her tiny voice is a whisper through the opened door, so satoru takes another step towards it.
“that’s okay," he hears your voice saying, "you can talk about it if you want.”
one eye appears through the crack and he can see you and tsumiki, curled up on the bed, her eyes looking up at yours, tear stains an obvious sin.
satoru is quiet as he pushes the door, ever so slightly.
“he always ignores me when i talk about my mom or his dad, or he says something mean about them. sometimes he won’t talk to me for the rest of the day.”
this seems plausible. just five minutes ago satoru had witnessed an influx of cursed energy coming from megumi when tsumiki merely mentioned their old house and the dolls she kept on her windowsill.
he can still feel that anger brewing now, but megumi, so you’ve said to him, needs to breathe. you didn't exactly tell him to exit the table and leave the little boy alone, or come to tsumiki's room to check on the two of you, but, he knows that's what you meant. you don't have to say something for satoru to help out. he’s just doing what’s best for all of you.
honestly, you probably wouldn't even mind that he's listening in on this conversation.
you tilt your head at her. “did you ask him why?”
tsumiki sniffles, she pushes a sticky hand at the hair matted to her head, so you gently push it away and move it for her instead, much gentler with her than you've ever been with him. satoru almost complains, before he remembers that he's not even there.
“he thinks that they don’t care about us,” tsumiki answers, the hurt obvious in her voice, "he—he can’t remember everything that i can, but he doesn’t care. he doesn't want to.”
you coo at her softly, nodding your head with every word.
satoru has never heard the little girl so sad--he's used to her smiling face and bright energy. honestly, if there's an opposite to cursed energy, it would be tsumiki.
you must feel as disturbed by the difference in the little girl as he does because he watches as you try to restrain a frown.
satoru's eyes are wide through the crack as you attempt a smile. “it’s okay to not feel the same,” you tell her, “wanting to remember your parents isn’t going to make megumi hate you.”
“but it upsets him.”
“well not talking about it upsets you, right?” you say this the same way you chide satoru. and, yeah, you typically know best.
not that he'll ever admit that.
but tsumiki nods.
“then you should talk about it. don’t worry about megumi. you can tell me about them, or satoru.”
he wants to open the door completely just at the sound of his name.
“really?”
“you can talk about whatever you want with us. we’ll always listen," your smile is genuine now.
satoru tries to imagine you as a little girl, with someone wiping your tears away. but he doesn't quite believe that you were ever as small as tsumiki looks now. you'll always be this to him, he supposes, safe and infallible.
even when you were younger, blinking idly at him as he introduced himself to his new underclassmen, you were certain. he's always been sure about that.
tsumiki frowns, her eyes wide. “gojo put his hands over his ears and started singing yesterday when you asked him to take the trash out.”
he has to catch a laugh. you shift around on the bed, your face is stern but satoru can see you about to laugh.
you nudge her with your head, teasing. “i didn’t say he always listens to me.”
the little girl laughs as you nuzzle her nose and for a moment, satoru thinks he's invading.
but how can he walk away when the two of you are cuddled so close, looking so cute together? he should probably take a picture, just so he can always remember this.
but then again, a camera probably wouldn't capture the supple sound of tsumiki's laugh as you cuddle her, or your smile as you hold her closer.
so he just stands there, observing.
you don't say anything as the girl thinks, merely rub your hand up and down on her back, like a reminder that you're still there.
tsumiki remains quiet for a moment, and then she whispers, “i’m afraid that i’ll forget about my mom."
satoru is shocked by the statement, little pricks of guilt perusing through his chest. during all of the digging he did about toji zenin, he wasn't sure where the woman was, or if she was worth finding. he hadn't even thought of it, really. he wasn't very good at that.
and he watches as you pause, feeling kind of eager to see how you'll respond.
your hand continues its circles, and you smile, gently, knowing. “i used to feel that way too," you tell her, just as softly.
and maybe that hurts satoru even more.
“really?”
“yeah. i don’t talk to my mom anymore, but i used to worry that i would forget how she smelled," your nose falls in tsumiki's hair, and you pause for a moment. satoru almost smiles as you close your eyes. "or the way she hugged me," you add, squeezing.
he's never really heard you talk about your parents before. the vauge comment here and there, sure, but nothing more. he knows the bare bones of when you left home—if only from what yaga told suguru, a million years ago, but nothing more. you don’t talk about that.
or maybe he's just never asked.
tsumiki nods, her wide eyes kind of amazed at the confession. and satoru is suddenly glad that he let you follow tsumiki to her room, that he knocked on your door that first night when he wasn't sure what to do with either of them.
you understand this better than he ever could. better than he ever will.
“did you forget?”
you smile. “no. it’s hard to forget those little things, no matter how long it���s been," you consider it for a second, "i don’t remember a lot about her but i remember hugging her when she got home from work, and the way she said my name.”
tsumiki's perks up, “do you think it’ll be like that for me?”
“i don’t know, sweetheart. it could be. you might remember more than i do," you cup her face for a moment, hoping with her.
“my mom always wore rose perfume,” tsumiki's hands cover your own, and she looks closely at you, like satoru wishes he could. “do you miss your mom?”
satoru holds his breath for a moment, and your eyes narrow as you think.
“sometimes," you admit.
“does it make you sad?”
“every once in a while.“
tsumiki swallows, her face falling. “i miss my mom."
you kiss her head. satoru sees your eyes flutter closed as you speak to her, so softly he almost misses it. “it’s okay to be sad without them.”
satoru closes his eyes with you, for just a moment.
he thinks about aquariums and trips to abandoned houses and souvenirs that he couldn't keep but covet.
and his eyes open again.
“really?” tsumiki asks as if she doubts it.
“yeah. that’s just the way love comes out sometimes. it makes you sad.”
“will it always?”
“well, you’ll always love your mom, right?” the girl nods without thinking, and you smile at her. “then being without her will always make you a little sad. and sometimes a lot. but it’ll find its place in your heart, like everything does.”
tsumiki thinks about this for a moment.
satoru wants her to ask how many holes you have in your heart, and if you think they could ever be filled.
and he also wants her to never ask you anything again. he shouldn't be listening to this, but he's stuck at the door.
“do you think about your parents a lot?”
“almost every day,” you say, looking away from the girl for a moment. and then you look back. “but i think about how my mom is happy where she is, and how i’m happy where i am.”
satoru almost falls through the door.
“you are?”
“well yeah,” you say, obviously. you squeeze her a bit. “i’ve got you here. and megumi and satoru. how couldn’t i be happy?”
tsumiki settles into you, she nods in agreement, but considers something, frowning up at you. “i don’t want megumi to be mad at me. he’s my best friend.”
“he’s not really mad,” you tell her--and, well, satoru disagrees. megumi is mad at everything. “and even if he was, he’ll always forgive you. that’s what best friends do. they argue and then make up.”
“who’s your best friend?”
your lip twitches. “satoru. and we fight all the time.”
“really? gojo?”
satoru wants to ask the same question. shoko, he might've assumed. nanami, even. if you knew he was there you would probably say that tsumiki was your best friend, just to mess with him.
but he's there, and you don't know.
you shake your head, acknowledging how crazy this statement is. “yup. i’m stuck with him.”
“has he always been your best friend?”
“oh no,” you laugh at the suggestion. “we met just a couple of years ago, at school. and he always had more friends than i did.”
“…but now?”
“he’s been my best friend for a while, i guess, but i haven’t been his for very long.”
satoru frowns.
“cause you always fight?”
you laugh. “something like that.”
something like what?
and then you turn to her, eyes on eyes, making sure that she’s looking at you. “tsumiki, you know—“
and satoru thinks that he’s heard enough. he doesn't want any more secrets or any more questions. he closes the door as quietly as possible, letting his ear linger on the wood when he hears the two of you laugh.
satoru sits for a moment, almost able to see your smile through the door, without all of his eyes, like he really took that picture.
and then he walks away, into the dining room, where megumi is pushing his dinner around on a plate.
satoru sits down.
“what are they doing?” megumi asks, gruffly. he's calmer now, satoru notes, though grumpy as ever.
“girl stuff.”
“it’s dinner time.”
“oh, megumi,” satoru tsks, shaking his head. “you’ve got lots to learn about women.”
megumi frowns. “i know more than you.”
“okay, i just came here to have a good time—“
*
later on, you’re unloading the dishwasher, trying to be quiet while the kids get ready for bed, and satoru walks in.
in striped pajamas naturally. no glasses. he is already grinning at you as he leans against the counter, his fingers tapping on the granite.
you roll your eyes automatically, pushing him a little because he's in your way.
"what, satoru?"
“so, i’m your best friend, huh?”
you turn. “i knew that door was open—“
*
next part
#jjk gojo#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#jujutsu gojo#jjk#jjk fanfic#jjk fluff#jjk texts#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#gojou satoru x reader#jjk satoru#jujutsu satoru#gojo saturo#gojo x you#satoru gojo#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x y/n#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#a typical family
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lucky* (single dadrry x art teacher!yn check-in)
word count: 2.6k
content warnings: kids/family talk, fluffy smut (grinding, mentions of m receiving oral), not ramadan friendly!
based on this one-shot
. . .
From: Harry
Riley asked if he could tag along tonight. I was able to distract him with dino nuggets, but that kid has the memory of a full grown adult, I swear.
To: Harry
lmao. he can come hang with us, you know he’s always welcome here
From: Harry
And let him take all of your attention after I haven’t seen you all week? Yeah, right.
I’ll be there at 7.
To: Harry
is now a good time to tell you that i think your kid is way cooler than you are?
From: Harry
Come over and do the bedtime routine with us and you’ll think differently. x
Y/N bites away the smile edging at her lips as she looks up from her phone. She couldn’t help it — she always noticed the rush of happiness that swarmed through her body whenever she spoke to her boyfriend, especially about the prospects of plans.
Her boyfriend.
She can’t believe that Harry is officially her boyfriend. Even though it happened a few weeks ago, she still finds herself in pockets of disbelief, mostly when they’re spending time together. She’ll glance over at him and take in his side profile, or remember that day when he came in, so angry at her for allowing Riley’s hair to be soaked with paint, and flush with the realization that somehow that turned into a real, loving relationship. One with mutual respect and care, one that was handled carefully, especially given the fact that there was a child involved. Y/N hadn’t ever dated someone who already had a kid, so she and Harry had multiple conversations regarding expectations and the changes this may incur on Riley’s life.
Ultimately, they chose to keep most of the relationship away from Riley until things got more serious. She and Harry had every intention of being in the long haul together, but they both knew it wouldn’t be helpful to any of them if they threw in Riley’s comfort and mental stability. For now, all he knew was that his dad had a new friend who he liked very much, and sometimes he went to go see her and spend time with her. So far, it was working well.
Tonight, however, was the first night that she and Harry had decided they’d have a sleepover. It sounded ridiculous and childish, but Harry always struggled with leaving Y/N’s place early enough to catch Riley before he went to bed. He beat himself up when he got home and he was already tucked in and snoozing. So Y/N suggested having a scheduled night that they dedicated just to them: He’d get to put Riley to bed himself and do his entire winddown routine with him (dinner, a bath, reading him multiple books since Harry was a sucker and couldn’t say no, and finally planting a kiss to his cheek when his sleepy eyes finally began to close), the babysitter would stay the night, and Harry would shuffle off to Y/N’s.
It was a good plan.
Except… well, except that they hadn’t slept in the same bed together yet, and their touching hadn’t gone past kissing and heavy petting. It was difficult — it had nothing to do with their attraction for one another, they were busy, and it wasn’t exactly optimal to jerk your boyfriend off when he was disappointed at himself for missing his son’s bedtime.
But Y/N and Harry are grown adults, and they’re aware of the underlying meaning of tonight. She knows it’s a big deal for him to place his trust in her after putting his own happiness and love life on the backburner for so long.
It’s why she’s spent the day scampering around her townhouse, sweeping, mopping, doing laundry, and doing everything she can to make the place as comfortable as possible for him. He’s spent many evenings here — he often comes over for dinner after work since his days at the office run longer than hers at the art studio — but it’s different when you spend an entire night somewhere new. She wants her blankets and pillows to smell cozy and feel even fluffier; her bedroom a calm oasis so even if he begins to worry — whether it be about Riley, or other subject matters — he won’t feel as overwhelmed and nervous.
When 7 finally ticks along, Harry, as usual, appears at her front door, prompt and anxious. He hasn’t voluntarily left RIley alone for an entire night unless it was for a business trip. But the second Y/N answers the door with that pretty smile he adores, his nerves melt just a tad. She almost immediately pulls him in for a hug, a chuckle vibrating through his chest as he leans down to press a kiss to her hair.
“Miss me that much?” he teases. He sets his duffel bag down in the entryway of her home and she kicks the front door closed. Through flushed cheeks, she grins.
“It’s been ages,” she pouts, standing on her tippy-toes to lightly peck his lips, “And I’ve never gotten you for the night. I’m excited.”
Harry’s chest contracts slightly at her words. He doesn’t know how, but she has a way of making even the scariest things seem approachable, and it makes him want to smother her with kisses until she’s pushing him away. Keeping a grasp on his hand, she guides him into the townhouse he’s grown familiar with. He notices that her kitchen is free from its typical small messes — half-empty glasses, crumbs from late night snacks — and she has a new candle burning on the coffee table in the living room.
“Did you clean for me?” Harry asks with a smirk. Again, she blushes before turning to face him.
“I just wanted you to be comfortable,” she explains, sucking on her bottom lip, “It’s a big deal. Y’know?”
“It is a big deal.” he agrees as he issues her hand a small squeeze, “And I wouldn’t want to take this step with anyone else. I hope you know that.”
A wide grin covers her face.
She doesn’t know how she got so lucky with him.
. . .
Y/N’s tucked into Harry’s side as their third romantic comedy of the night plays on TV. Glancing down at the warm, dead weight curled around his form, he smiles gently when he sees her eyes batting closed. He nudges her lightly.
“Wanna go to bed, baby?”
She hums tiredly and sits up slightly, pressing her chin to his chest to look up at him.
“What time is it?” she asks, covering her mouth with her hand as a yawn struggles to strain free. He unlocks his phone, his screen glowing to life with a picture of a smiling Riley holding up a painting he did in Y/N’s class.
“Just past midnight,” he replies, stretching his arms out. His tee-shirt rises up a bit to reveal a bit of his inked hips and it makes Y/N swallow.
“Sorry this wasn’t a super fun evening,” she replies with a pout. She stands from the couch and leans over to grab their empty glasses — they’d each had a serving of wine each, but the minor buzz was long gone by now, despite Y/N being ever the lightweight. “Maybe next time we’ll plan something big, like… I dunno. Something good.”
She’s chattering sleepily and it makes Harry chuckle. He follows her into the kitchen, hugging her from behind as she rinses the cups in the sink.
“This has been perfect,” he murmurs lowly before pressing a kiss to her temple. “We don’t need to plan anything for it to be fun. I just like being in your presence.”
She warms as she dries the freshly cleaned glasses, gently placing them in the rack on the counter.
“You’re too sweet.” she mumbles. She shuts the water off and turns in his grasp to face him, lurching forward to bury her head in his neck. “C’mon then, let’s go to bed. You almost fell asleep on the couch.”
He snorts at her joke and rolls his eyes when she looks up at him with that dumb, cheeky grin she loves to flash at him. With their fingers intertwined, he bends down to grab his bag before following her to her bedroom.
He’s been in here several times before — on evenings when she’s particularly exhausted, he’ll help her wind down for bed, pecking her lips before driving home. One time, when Harry had an awful day at work, Y/N ran him a warm shower, complete with fancy lavender-scented steam that he’s been meaning to ask her about ever since. Despite being semi-familiar with the space, their more intimate time was often being cut short for fears of Harry missing bedtime with Riley, or Y/N needing to wake up early the following morning.
This time, however, there was nothing stopping them. No deadlines, no places to be. The knowledge made them both buzz with excitement and nerves.
Her bedroom is dim as they quietly shuffle around, changing out of their clothes and into pajamas. Harry’s the first to crawl into her cozy bed, nibbling on his bottom lip as he scrolls on his phone. Y/N flicks the single lamp off and allows the moonlight to seep through the curtains of her window, yawning once more as she climbs in next to him.
“Everything alright?” she asks softly. Harry hums, moving his arm to wrap around her shoulders and pull her closer.
“Yeah. Just wanted to make sure I didn’t miss anything from the babysitter.”
“Mm,” Y/N nods. She purses her lips, forming a gentle kiss at his jawline. “You still feel okay about staying overnight?”
A smile cracks at the edges of his lips. He locks his phone and places it on the nightstand before flipping onto his side to face her.
“I’d be lying if I said a piece of my heart wasn’t still at my own place with Riley, but I’m so happy to be here with you. I promise.”
She swallows as she reaches out to thumb at his bottom lip. “You’re cute.”
“Am I?”
She giggles, “You are, and you know it.”
His eyes flutter shut as she begins to trace his features. With featherlight strokes of her fingertips, she ghosts over his lips, his chin, down to his throat and collarbones. He hums softly at the feeling, her other hand hovering over the hem of his tee-shirt as she silently waits for permission to push the fabric up.
“What’re you doing?” he whispers out, eyes flickering open as she curls her fingers around the bottom of his shirt.
“Is it okay if I make you feel good?”
He pauses. Swallows, and she removes her hands from his form.
“You can say no,” she quickly tacks on, “Please say no if you’re not 100%. I need you to be comfortable.”
His throat bobs. “It’s just… you know.”
She nods. They haven’t spoken about Harry’s anxiety surrounding physical intimacy since their first date, but she hasn’t forgotten about it. It’s been an active decision to move slowly and she would never want to do anything to push him past his limits.
“We can just go to sleep,” she murmurs, “It’s okay. I promise.”
He catches her wrist in a gentle grasp, lips parting as if he’s surprised by his own bravery. Slowly, he guides her down to his crotch, where he’s tenting in his sweatpants. Y/N bites her lip before allowing her mouth to form around a small oh in fear of making him feel self-conscious.
“I need to know that you’re sure,” she whispers in the darkness of her bedroom. Despite the limited light, she can still recognize his facial expressions, watching as a small wrinkle carves itself between his eyebrows. He’s nervous, that much she can tell. The rest is a mystery.
“I just need you to be slow,” he rasps. “It’s been… it’s been a long time, Y/N.”
She nearly coos out a response, wanting nothing more than to love and take care of the man that lays beside her. When he lets go of her hand, she cups him softly through the material of his bottoms, slightly surprised at how hard he feels.
“You can trust me. I promise.”
He nods, and it’s a flurry of shaky, hesitant movements and constant asks of reassurance from there. Everytime she pushes her foot on the gas, she reminds herself to stop and make sure he’s comfortable. He doesn’t ask to stop; not when she’s pulling down his sweatpants or mouthing at him through the fabric of his briefs, not when she’s drooling onto the ruddy head of his length or pressing her fingernails into his laurel-inked hips.
Harry is louder in bed than she had anticipated, or maybe it’s because it’s just been so long for him. He allows strained moans and curses to fall from his plush lips when she guides him into his mouth, and he even tangles a fist in her hair when the tip of his cock bumps down her throat. She thinks he’ll cum when she swallows around him, feeling his balls tighten in her free hand but he stops himself. She knows he does because he tips her head back and stares down at her with rounded eyes, taking her chin between his fingers and gently urges her up the length of his body. She obeys wordlessly, allowing him to move her however he deems fit.
“I wanna see you when I cum,” he eventually explains breathily. She nods, ignores the way her heart feels like it grows another size in her chest, and straddles his hips.
“Is it okay if I grind on you? Or do you want me to just use my hand?”
“You can grind on me,” he replies with a nod, tongue peeking out to moisten his lips. And when she rolls her hips down against his, it’s magic — the wetness between them emits a dirty, slushy sound (admittedly, Y/N is half to blame, since she couldn’t possibly go down on her boyfriend without making a sticky mess between her own legs). Harry pants loudly beneath her and his hands find purchase on her thighs as she moves, allowing his length to slick between her pussy lips.
It doesn’t take much for him to finish after that — especially not with his sleepy-eyed girlfriend on top of him, whimpering softly at the sensation of his tip bumping against her clit. When he comes, it’s a lot, and it’s messy, but Y/N can’t find it in her to care much as she leans down to smother Harry’s face in kisses; the pride in her chest for him growing to a point where it can’t be kept inside anymore.
“‘M so proud of you,” she mumbles. Harry laughs and wrinkles his nose as he wraps an arm around her waist, guiding her onto her side.
“Jesus, it’s not like I have erectile dysfunction,” he jokes, and Y/N rolls her eyes. "And you didn't come, either."
“This wasn't about me— and you know what I mean, Harry. I know this means a lot. For you, for both of us.”
“Thank you,” he murmurs, his face turning serious. “I didn’t know if I would ever find someone as caring or genuine as you. You’re so… gentle with me, it’s almost like I’m dreaming.”
Y/N smiles and reaches out to cup his cheek with her hand. “I’m in this for the long haul.”
“I know you are,” he says, taking her hand into his and pressing kisses to her knuckles, “And I’m so lucky for that.”
#writing#harry styles#harry styles writing#harry styles smut#harry styles blurb#harry styles angst#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x you#harry styles one shot#harry styles imagine#harry styles fan fic#harry styles one direction#harry styles x reader#harry styles fluff#harry styles oneshot#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x oc#one direction#single dadrry#⭐️#smut
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all the love we had and lost
pairing: conrad fisher x fem!reader
summary: you come back to cousins beach after a few years away. conrad is not particularly happy that you're back - and you aren't particularly thrilled, either. too bad there's a history (chemistry?) neither of you can deny.
warnings: lots of plot + flashbacks. angst with fluff in betweem. slightly suggestive dialogue/situations but nothing more than the actual show, a guy being pushy about hooking up with reader but nothing happens, mention of injuries and blood throughout, hints of alcoholism, brief mention of dieting (reader is competitive swimmer and deals with certain pressures from that), reader gets her period, takes on too much responsibility and argues with her mother (aka eldest daughter syndrome)
tags: @stargirlsirius-recs, @ifilwtmfc, @qwertyb2577, @allnrsnz, @baconeggndcheez, @peanutbelley, @imogen-skye, @geekinthefuschiahair, @tvije,
a/n: thank you thank you thank you for so much love on my first conrad fic!! i'm so excited to share the rest of the series, so stay tuned :))
read part one here
the best friends of our childhoods are the loves of our lives, and they break our hearts in the worse ways. (fredrik backman)
now — summer, age 18
you throw in some extra sprinkles, along with a few more tablespoons of sugar. belly has a huge sweet tooth. it's the night before her birthday, and you're in the kitchen at the fisher's house baking her coconut confetti cupcakes.
born on june 21st — the summer solstice — belly conklin is the definition of a summer child. she's summer, personified: sunshine, sweet tea, sand, and smiles. having missed so many birthday celebrations, you’re determined to make this year special.
you go to the fridge to grab some eggs, and when you close the door, you're startled by the person standing behind it.
"what are you doing here?" you ask, holding a hand to your chest and setting the carton of eggs on the counter. the joy you felt making birthday cupcakes for belly fades away, replaced with a tingling in your chest. you and conrad hadn’t spoken more than three sentences to each other, or even been in the same room alone, since that morning on the beach. as the distance between the two of you grew, so did your frustration at him.
conrad raises his eyebrow at you. he reaches around you into the fridge and pulls out a beer.
"i should be asking you that."
"the oven at my house is broken and your mom said i could come over."
“i’ve heard that one before,” he mumbles as he leaves the kitchen. you almost can’t believe he brought it up, even if just in a passing, somewhat snarky remark. conrad probably thought you didn’t hear.
these past few weeks, conrad hasn't just been cold towards you — which was a relief as much as it was heart wrenching. he seems more closed off in general, more inclined to spend time with others who hadn't seen him grow up. in fact, you imagine he’s on his way to see nicole now. maybe with her, he can pretend everything is fine. but not with the people in this house, who knew him inside and out.
you would never admit it — if conrad wants to ignore you, you could ignore him just fine — but it was eating you up inside, and it took everything in you not to confront him, to comfort him about whatever he was going through. you’d have arguments when you were kids, but it was nothing a ring pop or tub of cherry jello couldn’t solve. this time is different; the wound is deeper, harder to heal.
you wanted the old conrad back: the sweet boy who cared for you and let you care for him in return.
then — summer, age 14
belly was turning 12, and you wanted to surprise her with homemade cupcakes for breakfast. only, the oven at your house was broken, which meant your intention of baking her birthday treats would have fallen through, if not for susannah’s ever-present generosity.
everyone else was out of the house — you even asked laurel and susannah to take belly shopping to not ruin the surprise. you were decorating the cupcakes when conrad walked in from the deck. his wet hair stuck to his forehead and he was wearing a rash guard, so he probably got back from surfing. he looked paler than usual, even after being in the sun for hours, but you didn’t think much of it at first.
“hey,” he greeted, sounding slightly out of breath. “what are you doing here?”
“the oven at my house is broken, so your mom said i can come over to bake these for belly’s birthday tomorrow.” you gestured at the clumsily decorated treats. the cupcakes had bright pink frosting and rainbow sprinkles. you weren’t a professional by any means, but knew that belly would love them.
“but i’m sure she wouldn’t miss one or two, if you wanna try one,” you offered, smiling at conrad.
he smiled back, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “yeah. yeah, let’s do that. i’m just gonna get changed first.”
conrad walked past you, and that’s when you noticed him limping — along with a bloody gash just below his left knee.
you instantly dropped the spatula back into the half-empty frosting bowl.
“connie, what the hell happened?”
“i’m fine,” he answered. “i wiped out, got cut by the fin of my board.” conrad must have noticed your eyes widened with worry because he grabbed your wrist gently, thumb rubbing soothingly on your pulse point. he was bleeding out on the kitchen floor, and there he was, trying to make sure you were okay.
“i’m fine,” he reassured.
the blood dripping down his leg suggested otherwise. years ago conrad would faint at the sight of blood, and though he’d mostly outgrown that, you knew it still made him queasy. you imagined the pain definitely wasn’t making it easier. without another word, you pulled him into the bathroom and made him sit on the edge of the bathtub. you washed your hands then sat cross-legged in front of him.
“you here to fix me up, sweetheart?” he smirked as he watched you gather supplies from the cabinet underneath the sink, your brows furrowed in concentration.
“what?” you paused, almost laughing. until you saw his wound again, and you got back to work.
“it’s from the hunger games,” he explained. “when katniss finds peeta in the arena? and he’s all, like, injured.”
“well, he was definitely in worse shape than you,” you assured. “your cut’s not that deep, it just looks bad.”
“it doesn’t feel great, either.”
conrad exhaled sharply when you started applying pressure to his leg with a damp washcloth. you placed your other hand on his right knee.
“it’ll be fine, connie. i’ve got you. keep your eyes on me, okay?”
he looked down at you, wet hair framing his face as he offered a short nod.
you gestured at him to take over, and your fingers brushed together when he grabbed the washcloth, but he never looked down. his eyes still followed you as you searched the bathroom for something to cover his wound.
a comfortable silence followed. the two of you used to spend hours talking, sure, but what you loved about spending time with conrad is that silence didn't bother him. you could each be in your own worlds while in the comfort of each other's company, and that was enough.
once the wound was cleaned and the bleeding slowed down, you placed a gauze pad over his cut before wrapping a cloth bandage around it.
“i’m pretty sure it’s ‘you here to finish me off, sweetheart?’,” you remembered.
conrad shook his head. “i’m pretty sure it’s not. i’ve read the book like, three times.”
you move to sit next to him on the edge of the tub.
“how sure are you, connie? because i’m pretty damn sure.”
conrad shrugged. “i’m pretty damn sure, too.”
you rolled your eyes, but with a smile. “okay, fine. we’ll check. but, when you see how wrong you are, you have to come with me to see jaws 2.” it was playing at the local movie theatre during their weekly throwback thursday — you and belly had seen it advertised on your way home from getting ice cream. you had wanted to ask conrad, but couldn’t find the right time.
because you hadn’t meant it to be a date, but you also hadn’t not meant it to be. something changed about how you felt towards conrad that summer; or, maybe, you just figured out what was different about the love you felt towards him compared to everyone else.
(yes, love. again, something you would never admit.)
you thought maybe — maybe he felt it too. there was something different in the way he teased you, laughed with you, looked at you when he thought you couldn’t notice.
you did notice. it happened so much that eventually you decided that either it was all in your head and he didn’t love you that way, or he was also scared of what would happen if he did. which, to be fair, was the position you were in. you were very scared of what would happen if you crossed that line.
“i’ll agree to that,” conrad said. “if you agree to having a picnic with me on the beach. if i have to face my fear of sharks, then you have to face your fear of angry seagulls stealing your food.”
a picnic on the beach. you wondered if this was conrad’s way of subtly asking you on a date. did he also want to cross that line, become something other than friends? he looked at you so eagerly, you hoped he did.
“fine.” you held out your hand. “but you have to protect me from angry seagulls.”
conrad smiled at you brightly as he grasped your hand.
“always.”
in the end, conrad lost the bet. the screening of jaws 2 was cancelled, so you rented it from the video store instead. you got his favourite movie snacks, and some of yours as well, and made sure the couch had the comfiest pillows and the warmest blanket. you felt butterflies just thinking about the two of you watching together, cuddling on the couch.
when the time came though, your plans fell through. the playdates your siblings had lined up both cancelled. your mother had plans to meet a friend at the bar, and claimed she couldn't reschedule. by then your parents were divorced and your father was elsewhere with his new girlfriend, so it fell to you to babysit your siblings.
conrad came over anyway: he helped you make rice and lentils for dinner, convinced your brother to eat his vegetables, and let your sister paint his nails. the four of you watched night at the museum and ate all the junk food you had gotten, with you and conrad sitting on opposite ends of the couch, but stealing glances and shy smiles at each other. when your mother came home, a bit after midnight and a little tipsy, she got angry that you’d kept the twins up so late and cheated on the diet she had so carefully planned for you — to keep you in shape for swimming, she claimed. you rolled your eyes, and that made her angrier. without you saying anything, conrad took the twins upstairs to get ready for bed as you and your mother argued. by the time conrad walked back downstairs, your mother had gone into the living room for another drink and you were in tears. he asked if you were okay, and you told him to go home.
you never talked about that night again, and everything went back to the way it was: with neither of you crossing that line.
now
the only reason you let belly drag you to nicole’s party is because it’s her birthday.
as soon as you enter the house, nicole and the other debutantes whisk belly away to a table filled with elaborate cakes. you can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed by how elegant they look in comparison to the cupcakes you made her.
"come on," taylor groans. "let's get a drink."
taylor grabs two beers and hands one to you. you gratefully accept. the two of you catch up for a bit, when suddenly jeremiah starts serenading belly in an outrageously funny musical number. you laugh along with them, until you catch a glimpse of conrad with nicole on the couch at the other end of the room. nicole is sitting in conrad's lap, and she leans over to whisper something in his ear before kissing his cheek. your entire body heats up.
conrad was right before: you were jealous. as frustrated as you were with him, you were even angrier at yourself for feeling that way.
"i’m gonna go find the bathroom!” taylor says, practically shouting over the music.
"okay!” you yell back. “i’m gonna go get another drink."
you know all too well that it isn’t a good habit to get into, but you need something stronger if you’re going to survive this party. you examine the drink table, finally picking out some mediocre tequila. you take a shot, then another.
“tequila. my kind of girl.” someone declares, creeping up behind you.
it’s a terrible pick up line, and you already have a feeling that the guy trying to flirt with you is some rich entitled asshole.
but, the guy — liam — can hold a decent conversation, and he’s cute enough.
he’s no conrad, though. you take another shot when that thought crosses your mind, and force yourself to flirt with leo. liam. right, liam.
liam leans in close, pretends to listen to you, lets his gaze linger on the deep v-neck of your shirt. you’re so close, you can smell the alcohol on his breath.
“five minutes,” you boast after he asks how long you can hold your breath underwater. somehow, the conversation veered towards your time as a competitive swimmer. you’re just the right amount of tipsy that your inhibitions start fading away.
“wow,” liam says. “i have to say, i’m glad you didn’t have that training camp this summer.”
you bat your eyelashes at him. “oh? why is that?” you lean closer, trailing a finger down his chest.
“because then i wouldn’t be able to do this.”
liam kisses you then, and you kiss back. he slides his tongue in your mouth, runs his hands over your body. you feel nothing. it’s fine.
“let's go upstairs.”
liam’s grabbing your wrist before you have a chance to answer. as he tries to tug you up the stairs, your eyes meet conrad’s from across the room.
suddenly, you feel nauseous. you rip away from liam’s grip and place a hand on the wall next to you to steady yourself.
liam turns around sharply. “what is it?”
“i changed my mind, actually. let’s just hang out downstairs.”
liam grabs your wrist again, his grip tighter than before. “don’t be a tease.”
this time, your voice comes out louder. “i just changed my mind. that doesn’t make me a tease.”
“don’t be a bitch, then,” he scoffs, and you’re this close to breaking this guy’s nose. “do you wanna fuck, or not?”
“i don’t,” you answer instantly, struggling to break free from his grip.
“okay, whatever. we don’t have to go all the way, but we can still go upstairs, and have a good time.”
he manages to drag you up two steps as you strain against his iron grip, now almost cutting off your circulation. your heartbeat quickens and you feel dizzy. finally, you grab onto the railing for leverage, forcing liam to stop in his tracks.
“what is it now?” he groans.
“just stop, liam.”
“listen,” he starts, speaking to you almost mockingly, like you’re a naive little girl. “i know what girls want, so you don’t have to be shy. we’re going upstairs right now and —”
“liam, is it?” the rest of the party is in full motion, but here’s belly, giving liam one of the most intense death stares you’ve ever seen. belly, who if you cut open, would bleed sugar. “i’m gonna have to ask you to let go of my friend.”
“whatever,” liam answers, rolling his eyes. “if you don’t mind, we’re kinda in the middle of something.” he tries to move you forward, but you stand your ground.
jeremiah is also glaring at liam from the bottom of the stairs, his golden retriever personality long gone. “back off, man,” he warns.
“just mind your own business,” liam snaps.
“they said leave her alone,” steven asserts, walking over once he sees what’s happening. “and you don’t wanna mess with us, trust me.” he clenches his hand into a fist as if proving a point.
in other situations, you and belly have definitely teased steven for his tendency to act all tough, but right now, you couldn’t be more grateful.
“who the fuck are you? her bodyguards?”
“just let her go,” belly orders.
“i think she can speak for herself. she wants this, but if you’re jealous, you can join, too.”
your stomach churns. liam leans in close to whisper in your ear. “maybe we’ll see if those 5 minutes come in handy when you’re sucking my —”
as soon as liam lets go of your wrist, his hand trailing downward, you shove him away and punch him in the nose before he can finish his sentence. you deliver a final blow to liam’s ego as he’s doubled over:
“what i want is for you to leave us the fuck alone. there are other people in this house who i’d rather hook up with. people who aren’t complete assholes with fancy cars to compensate for their tiny dick.”
the flirtatious smile falls from liam’s face, replaced with the kind of anger only rich entitled assholes have when they don’t get what they want — figures that he only gets the hint when it literally hits him right in the nose. he’s angry enough to deliver a punch right back to your face.
you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you fall down the stairs, but belly manages to catch you before you hit the ground. she holds you as jeremiah and steven step in front. you hear them shouting at liam over the music, but their exact words don’t register.
you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and the room is suddenly all fuzzy.
“i’ve got her.” conrad’s calm and measured voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist. “go find cam — the rest of us have been drinking, but he can drive her home.”
somehow, you find yourself in a bathroom, sitting on the counter as conrad stands between your legs. he carefully examines your injury, but you notice how he avoids making eye contact.
you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the alcohol, or the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while — probably a dangerous mix of all three.
“you here to fix me up, sweetheart?” the question slips past your lips before you could stop it.
conrad looks slightly amused, and he finally meets your gaze. “that’s not the line,” he deadpans. you know (from trying not to but ultimately not being able to pull your attention away from him all night) that he’s had a few drinks as well; it seems like the two of you ignore each other best when you’re sober.
but, still, he remembers. his comment earlier and his smile right now is all the confirmation you need: somewhere in the back of his mind, he replays memories of you. no matter how cold he acts towards you, he still cares.
he continues wiping the blood off your face. “how’s your hand?” he asks.
you flex your fingers, inspect your hand. “it’s been better,” you answer, though your knuckles are slightly aching. “worth it.”
“i guess all those years away made you a badass.”
all those years away. the reminder feels like a stab to the heart, but you wouldn’t let it burst the comfortable bubble you and conrad had somehow stumbled into.
instead, you offer him a lopsided smile.
“oh, connie,” the nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. “i was always a badass.”
“yeah, yeah. but it’s different now. you’re different.” he pauses. you’re worried he’s going to say something else.
but he doesn’t. instead, he asks, jokingly: “did you join a fight club or something?”
you take that as a good sign: like you, he’s trying to preserve the playfulness between you before everything else seeps in and ruins it, before you’re brought back to the present, where you’re both heartbroken and not talking to each other.
“you know the first rule of fight club —”
“don’t talk about fight club,” you finish together.
conrad laughs, even though it’s not that funny. you laugh, too.
a silence falls over you, one that’s not unfamiliar, but not entirely comfortable either. conrad holds the cloth against your nose to make sure the bleeding stopped.
it seemed to be a strange pattern between you two — being there for each other when you bleed.
then — summer, age 12
it was the end of july when you got your first period.
you had made lunch for your siblings and walked them to their day camp, when you suddenly felt an ache in your abdomen. that ache turned into a sharp pain by the time you got home, and you ran to the bathroom to confirm what you’d suspected.
that afternoon, mr. conklin was taking all the kids to mini golf, but you weren’t feeling up for it. you texted belly about what happened and spent the rest of the day curled up in bed.
you didn’t hear him knock over the sound of the movie you were watching, but suddenly you saw conrad standing by your door, holding a bag from the candy shop.
“jesus, connie, you scared me!” you exclaimed, pausing the movie.
he smiled sheepishly and flopped down on the bed next to you. “belly told me you weren’t feeling well. here.” he handed you the bag.
you opened the bag, grateful that conrad picked out your favourite treats. you take one and bite into it. your stomach growled — you hadn’t eaten earlier because you felt nauseous, but now you could eat that entire bag in one go.
“how was mini golf?” you asked, popping another treat into your mouth.
“it was awesome! i finally managed to get past that giant hippo and get a hole-in-one. i got the highest score.”
you frown, wishing you had been there. if anything, to beat conrad’s score.
“don’t worry, we’ll go back another time,” conrad added. “you can beat me then.” sometimes, you swore conrad could read your mind. he then asked if you were feeling better.
“no. i got my period,” you huffed. “it sucks.”
“oh.” conrad adjusted his glasses, a sign that he felt awkward. “i’ve heard about those. they sound pretty brutal.”
“health class?”
“no. my mom, actually.”
health class wasn’t much help for you either, and neither was your mother. you were lucky enough to have susannah and laurel, who had explained everything to you and belly.
“anyway, what are you watching?”
“the hunger games,” you answer. “i just finished the book.”
“cool.”
conrad didn’t move — he actually leaned back against the pillows even more — so you figured he wanted to stay. you moved the laptop so it sat between the two of you and started playing the movie again.
“you know, it doesn’t seem fair that you miss out on having fun just because of your period,” conrad said as katniss finds peeta injured in the arena.
you frown, about to point out that he has no idea how painful cramps can be.
he lifted his hand up to stop you. “not that i can judge what you’re going through. i’m just saying when it’s this bad, instead of being alone, just text me, and i’ll be there.”
when the time came, he watched movies with you in bed. he brought you junk food and pain killers. he even biked to the store when you’d run out of pads.
he was there for you, just like he promised.
now
those moments from past summers now feel warm and sickly sweet, like popsicles melting in the sun — then again, that might just be the remnants of tequila flowing through your veins. you think about what happened earlier, how belly, jeremiah, and steven stepped in to protect you. how conrad is here with you now, taking care of you so tenderly even after you’ve ignored each for so long. it’s like nothing changed. but once you leave this bathroom and the alcohol leaves your system, it wouldn’t be the same. you feared you'd never get that magic back, and that weighed on your chest so much, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.
“why’d you go for liam, anyway?” conrad asks, breaking you away from your thoughts. he removes the cloth from your nose so you can answer, and the bleeding seems to have finally stopped.
“you really wanna know?”
“yeah. liam’s an asshole. and you’re…” conrad places his hands on either side of your thighs, leaning close. “you.”
“i went for liam because….well, honestly, i didn’t care who it was, as long as they made me forget you,” you admit, because what did you have to lose. you probably have a broken nose, you definitely have blood on your shirt, and your time with conrad is running out.
conrad’s eyes darken. his fingers start to play with the hem of your shorts.
“did it work?” his voice is a whisper, but he’s so close that it’s crystal clear.
“no.”
it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on conrad’s. it's not the most elegant kiss — it's messy, urgent, with your noses bumping together, and teeth clacking against each other. he cradles your face in his hands, and you wrap your legs around his waist to bring him closer. you taste beer on his tongue, and maybe a hint of lime, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. you tangle your hands into his hair, and you swallow his moan as you gently tug. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the alcohol or adrenaline, but dizzy from him.
when you run out of air, feeling like your lungs could burst, you pull away. conrad’s gaze is heavy on yours as he traces your top lip with his thumb.
“connie,” you whimper, itching to kiss him again.
“you’re still bleeding.”
conrad wipes away your blood with the cuff of his flannel. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s a knock on the door. jeremiah, letting you know that it’s time to go.
and, just like that, the moment is gone.
a few days later, belly invites you over for a girl’s night. you paint each other’s nails, eat sour candy, and watch rom coms, just like you used to. she updates you on debutante season, the argument she had with taylor, and her blossoming feelings for jeremiah. you let it slip that you and conrad kissed at nicole’s party, though you admit you aren’t sure what it means — as if you hadn’t spent hours and hours thinking about the kiss, about him. belly gives you a knowing smile, but you change the subject before she can comment any further.
you’re halfway through 10 things i hate about you when belly falls asleep. you grab your phone, deciding to finally reach out to conrad, when you get a text from him.
he’s already on the dock when you arrive, looking out onto the water.
“hey,” you greet as you stand next to him. “i was actually about to text you —”
“did you tell belly that we kissed?” he interrupts. you can’t quite read his expression as he waits for you to answer.
“no, i didn’t,” you lie. “but…would it matter if i did?”
“well, i mean, belly’s close to nicole and i don’t want her finding out," conrad explains. his words are deliberate, and you suspect he'd spent some time perfecting what to say to you. so far, you didn't like where this was going. conrad delivers another blow:
"it’s not like it meant anything.”
you feel like you could shatter into a million pieces right then and there.
“it didn’t?” you hate how fragile your voice sounds, compared to conrad’s stoic demeanor.
conrad shrugs. “i mean, we were both drunk and the thing with liam happened, so we just got caught up in the heat of the moment.”
“you’re saying there’s nothing between us, then? nothing other than friendship?”
he turned away before he answered. “no. nothing.”
“then what about last summer?” you demand. you force yourself to keep it together, your tone firmer than before. “i guess that didn’t mean anything, either.”
“y/n…” he pauses, and you know you caught him off guard. “i don’t know what you want me to say. we’re barely even friends anymore. you come back here, after all this time, after so much shit has happened, and expect us all to drop everything to fit you back into our lives. but, you don't. we moved on. i moved on, and i can’t deal with you —"
“got it,” you snap, already turning to walk away. “loud and fucking clear, conrad.”
it’s not like it meant anything. we’re barely even friends anymore.
you replay conrad’s words as you crawl into bed next to belly, holding back tears as to not disturb her sleep.
you decide then that you didn’t love conrad anymore. you couldn’t because it would eat you up inside.
then again, it doesn't seem like hating him would be any easier.
#conrad fisher fluff#conrad fisher x you#conrad fisher#conrad fisher x reader#tsitp#tsitp fanfic#the summer i turned pretty fic#the summer i turned pretty#conrad fisher imagine#conrad fisher angst#saf writes
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PHONE SEX. DAZAI OSAMU
𖤐 CONTENTS NSFW, phone sex, masturbation (male & female receiving), a little praise, extra horny dazai, begging, squirting, dazai guides you through it in the end ᵎᵎ wc 1.7k
ᵎᵎ check the mlist for kinktober here !
dazai hated nothing more than being away on missions, unable to come home to his “gorgeous belladonna” each night. it had been a week since he left to handle some very private and very secret work, which was usually his specialty, and he couldn’t bare it anymore.
he would text you everyday, during meetings, during investigations, during fights even, which made you scold him. you would get ignored, of course. he would call and pout on the daily, whining about missing you and wanting to be there. and sometimes, even..
“wanna be between your legs so bad, bella” he would whine loudly into the phone, making you go red all the way up to your ears and start yelling his ears off for having no shame whatsoever. and of course, he did not care for it any more than he did when he got kicked and slapped by kunikida for saying uncalled for shit all the time.
it was the second to last night of dazai being away and, unfortunately for him, he couldn’t stand it anymore. he missed kissing you, touching you, seeing your naked figure in the morning as you awoke from slumber.. every thought he had of you made his dick strain under his boxers. and his hand simply wasn’t doing it anymore.
“i have so many documents to finish for tomorrow… i can’t believe you talked me into doing yours too” you scolded dazai through the phone as you struggled to open your eyes and keep working. his mouth rests hung open as you talked his ear off about what you did today, body throbbing with desire. his hand involuntarily slides to his pants.
“are you even listening to me, osamu?” osamu. calling him by his first name. it makes him go crazy. his eyes shut tightly as he unzips his fly and slides his leaking dick out of his pants, back leaning against the headboard. he takes a long breath in, trying to stabilise his breathing.
“i am, love. always am” you roll your eyes at the pet name, trying to not let him get to you. if there’s one thing you are is weak. you’re weak when it comes to him, to how he speaks to you and his tone shift whenever he addresses you. it’s filled with warmth, with love, so much more different from the way he used to speak to you, to anyone. it proves just how much you’ve gotten under his skin, how much you changed him in these past few years.
and it’s proven by his desperation to have you, to feel you, which was still unbeknownst to you at this point. he smiles against the phone, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. he was aware your were sulking, trying to compose yourself so you didn’t fall for his tricks. he also knew you were failing miserably. and so was he, as he started stroking himself slowly, listening to your breathing.
“i think i’ll take a break..” you sigh as you slam your pen on the table, picking up the phone and lounging back into your chair. dazai’s eyes glisten, mouth corners raising up into a smile. it was his chance to let you know how much he wanted you, how he’s going to jump you the second he gets home.
“yeah? wanna take a break with me, belladonna?” he says in a sultry tone as you raise your eyebrows in confusion, pressing the phone to your ear and taking a sip from your drink. you hum in approval, making dazai’s excitement rise to his chest.
“what are you suggesting?” you ask mindlessly, still unaware of his intentions. dazai’s hand slides down to the base of his dick, letting out a drawn-out breath that makes you halt.
“want me to tell you how much i’ve missed you?” he bites into his bottom lip as your eyes widen. he couldn’t be… was he? oh god. this man was truly shameless. it was embarrassing how quickly your body heated up, your lips parting slightly.
“have you been jerking off the whole time i’ve been screaming your ears off?” you ask in disbelief as he chuckles. of course he had.
“come on.. stop scolding me and join me, baby. been missing you so much…” he begs as your vision blurs. you bolt out from your chair, rummaging through the boxes hidden in your drawer. it was insane how quickly this man turned you on, how a simple beg made your mind spin. you take out a blue magic wand — gifted to you by none other than your thoughtful boyfriend. self-proclaimed.
you take your pants off in a haste, throwing them into the corner of the room and sliding your panties off, jumping into bed. you put the call on speaker, placing it on the pillow next to you as dazai sits quietly on the other line, waiting.
“go on…” you whisper as you open your legs, setting the wand between your plushy thighs. dazai chuckles, amused at your obedience before he speaks.
“what a good girl… want to know what i’ve been thinking about doing to you?” he purrs. the low buzzing of the toy hits his ears and he groans, brushing a finger over his slit. god, was he thankful for gifting you that. and so were you. even though it did make dazai cocky, especially since he knew that you weren’t satisfied with only your fingers anymore. not after being fucked so good by him.
“yeah…” you breathe out, pursing your lips as the head of the wand works it’s way on your puffy clit. dazai’s words catch in his throat for a moment at the sound of your suppressed whines of pleasure, his cock throbbing in his hand.
“been thinking about the way you pretty cunt swallows me in so good… she’s made for me” your mewls accentuate with every graphic description dazai whispers against the cold screen of the phone. you failed to realise just how much you had actually missed him in return.
dazai throws his head back, hand stroking his length rapidly as he listens to your soft pleads, begging him to let you do something – anything. he was well aware you were too fucked out to even form coherent sentences.
“shit.. need to feel you so bad… haah.. fuck, baby, need to get home to you..mmh” dazai chokes out as his dick twitches, making him throw his head back with a gasp. you mirror his reaction as the toy whirrs over your sweet cunt, touching a sensitive spot that made you see stars. dazai pressed his phone against the shell of his ear, smirking at the sounds you make. even when being away, he knew what part of you you had touched, knew exactly what every reaction meant.
“oh.. ‘samu… i’m gonna– oh god..!” you whine as your hips jerk upwards, grinding against the wand for extra friction.
“you can hold it in a little longer…” your reply is not a satisfied one. “come on, gorgeous… want you to cum with me.. not yet” he was begging by that point and the idea enticed you so much you couldn’t refuse. as he hears your annoyed grunt, dazai smiles.
“yeah, there we go. circle that clit for me, okay, bella? fuck.. miss your pretty pussy so badly…” if it was one thing dazai did during sex, it was talking. however, it was actually hilarious how he was not only turning you on but he was also getting off to his own comments. he just couldn’t keep his mouth shut for anything, especially now when he was so close to making a mess on the sheets of the hotel bed.
“osamu… please” you snap him out of his daze as he chuckles, wrist shaking “mhm.. so close, darling.. need you to cum with me so badly….” it was all he needed to say for you to start resuming your antics, pushing your head back into the pillow.
the next minute was followed by loud grunts, moans and whines of pleasure, hastened begs for each other and name screaming until… “shit, fuck, bella, i’m cu– oh fuck!” dazai groaned as cum started to shoot out from his sensitive, reddened tip. at the sounds of your lover’s moans it was hard to keep it together, so it didn’t take long for you to follow suit, back arched as you squirted all over the newly placed sheets.
your bodies go limp as you close your eyes, trying not to fall asleep as you process the whole experience. your body glistens with sweat and you dread the idea of getting up and showering.. or cleaning your bedsheets, for that matter. you gather up all the strength left in your body to turn to the side, facing the phone.
“you still there?” dazai smiles as he hears the faint sound of your breathing ring out from the small device. he hums in approval, eyes threatening to close. “you don’t want to talk to me anymore, is that it?” you try to play it off as being angry, the hint of amusement in your voice giving it away.
“maybe i don’t” dazai plays along as you gasp theatrically, slapping a hand to your mouth “i can’t believe you, osamu dazai! how dare you?!” and he breaks into laughter, purring sweetly as a reply “indeed, how dare i do this to my pretty girl?”
you nod “exactly. she must be so upset” you jut your bottom lip out “well, good thing i’ll be home soon and ready to pamper her like she deserves” dazai muses, eyes closing. he hoped that once he’d open them he’d find you next to him. you smile contently, pressing the phone to you ear as you lie back again. your mind trails off as you watch the cars passing along the street.
“bella?”
“yes, ‘samu?”
“we should’ve facetimed… hey, how about i call you right now and you can spread those pretty legs for me, huh?”
“osamu!”
“yeah, definitely facetiming.. answeeer”
his annoying ass didn’t let you go until you repeated the whole show. he made sure not to slip away from the sight of you for a second. after all, you did need an audience. and how kind of him to help you out by telling you what to do.. you just wanted him to come home as soon as possible.
© cultrise | don’t steal, copy or translate my works.
#✦— kinktober.#𐙚 — pages.#𐙚— dreamscape.#kinktober '23#kinktober#kinktober 2023#dazai#bsd#bungo stray dogs#dazai x reader#dazai x reader smut#bungo stray dogs dazai#dazai osamu#dazai smut#osamu dazai x reader
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Hiiii! I've been scrolling on your account for the past hour and haven't found what I was looking for, so here I am. I've been wanting to read a Sterek fic where Stiles just takes a gun and shoots straight or whatever and when everybody is like wth he just says: what? My dad's a cop! Just, super badass Stiles. Pleaaaase
Let's see.
Bang Bang Baby by rlnerdgirl
(1/1 I 5,388 I Explicit I Sterek)
When Stiles said he was going to Los Angeles for a week for “PD,” Derek is pretty sure it’s the flimsiest excuse for a solo-vacation, and he feels bad having to call him back early. But there’s something in Beacon hills, something more dangerous than they’ve dealt with in a long time. Turns out, Stiles did go to professional development, to help him deal with shit in Beacon Hills, and when Derek gets a look at what he’s been doing, he’s more than a little conflicted.
Derek manages to blink, tearing his eyes from the gun and bringing his attention to Stiles’ face. “That isn’t a gun.” His voice is rough, mouth still parched.
The smile that pulls at Stiles’ lips makes him frown. “No,” Stiles agrees. “That’s a Barrett M82A1 sniper rifle, which, according to my instructors, I am a natural at firing, so much so that I have been suggested, many times over the past week, to enter some kind of,” the hand on the back of Derek’s neck stops stroking as Stiles’ wrist moves, hand making a gesture of some kind, “competition for, because apparently shooting competitions are things that exist. I mean, I guess I knew that. I just didn’t realize shooting this would be a competition.”
I'm the ghost of my mistakes by GreyHaven
(20/20 I 29,696 I Explicit I Sterek)
Stiles hasn't been known as Stiles for the past six years. He's Mitch Rapp, a CIA assassin with 117 kills under his belt. When he gets a late night call from Scott, saying Derek has been taken, he's on the road back to Beacon Hills in less than ten minutes. He's going to get Derek back, even if that means adding a few more kills to his ledger.
Hear The Wheels As They Roll by crossroadswrite
(2/2 I 44,919 I Teen I Sterek)
“You can’t be here. This is private property,” someone calls out and for some reason that voice sounds painfully familiar.
When it hits him why, Stiles almost chokes with the realization, “Derek Hale,” he says, unbelievably happy because he remembers Derek when they were young.
Derek looks grumpier, sadder, angrier. Stiles can’t really fault him for that. He also looks surprised that Stiles knows who he is. He squint/glares suspiciously at him, his nostrils flare for a second before he widens his eyes almost dramatically.
“Stiles,” he says quietly, like he can’t really believe it.
Stiles beams, “Yeah, you remember me!”
AND
@lovesouthernsweettea suggested this series!
The Sum of It's Parts by KouriArashi
AND
@merchymynydd suggested this one!
So Take a Long Shot by relenafanel
(1/1 I 2,650 I Teen i Sterek)
Stiles is ten when his father teaches him how to shoot. He sucks with a handgun, more likely to shoot off his own foot than the target.
The same cannot be said for his skill with a long-range rifle (but he's no one's weapon).
Eventually, Stiles knows, the secret will come out, because there are just some people he will save at all costs.
(That day comes when they're hunting a redcap through the forest and can't reach Derek in time)
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Drawing Hornet everyday until Silksong comes out - Day 200!!!
(huge thanks to this person for the art suggestion!! <3)
I genuinely can’t believe that I’ve made it to 200 days, it’s truly been wild how time flies by like that and the amount of doodles I’ve made during that time. Over 200 doodles (217 to be exact if we’re counting double pictures/extra doodles) have been made over the past 200 days. :0
And thank you all so much for the love and support! Not only have we reached 200 days but also 1400+ followers about a week ago! <3
But, having said that I’d like to make a few announcements—some good, some not so great—about a few things regarding the blog, myself, and other stuff.
Putting it all under the cut so the post isn’t long if you’d like to know more
______________________________
Announcements!
My pfp!
1.) I’ll be changing my pfp again!! I’ve officially decided that after every 100 days or so I’ll change up the pfp so it’s up to date with my doodle style (assuming it changed at all lol), but generally it’ll look relatively the same as the last!
Possibly more admins?
2.) As of right now I’m looking into the idea/possibility of having a second (maybe third?) person help me with daily doodles! As much as I’d like to keep doodling everyday there are some days that it can be tough or some situation might be happening. (i.e. recently got injured)
See, the problem is I don’t exactly have a proper way of trying this out??? My idea was to maybe do this through dms or more preferably Google Forms. I also don’t really know what form of communication afterward would be best either, suggestions to help me work this out would be great! (as you can tell I’m not very good at this stuff lol)
Commissions!
3.) After much consideration and a lot of thought, I’ve decided that in the near future, I’ll be opening commissions again for the first time in years. I don’t have everything set up quite yet, but expect more info in the near future!
About requests:
4.) You may have noticed recently that I haven’t been doing as many doodle requests recently. Sure, there’s usually quite a few in a row at once but you may have noticed I’ve also been doing “non-requested” doodles aka ones that I just do on my own.
Expect this to become a very normal thing going forward. I probably won’t be doing as many requests as before because frankly with the amount of requests I get daily when it’s open is a lot to handle sometimes. Does this mean requests will be stopped entirely? No, I’ll still do some occasionally, but not as much as I have in the past.
Also I’ll likely be doing strictly anonymous requests.
About Burnout:
5.) Alright let’s address the elephant in the room.
There have been quite a few instances where people have wondered if I would ever have burnout and have occasionally joked about “dying” from said burnout because “Silksong will never release, you’ll be doing this forever” etc etc.
In the past I’ve been fine, motivation has been great, but recently I’ve noticed it a little bit.
Unfortunately life has its own plans so it can be a little hard for me to make a doodle that day, expecially recently since I’ve been experiencing personal/medical issues. It’s part of the reason I’m hoping to get a second (maybe third) person to help me do daily doodles so I can take a little bit of the load off my shoulders.
So what does this mean for this blog?
Not much right now. But in the future, there may be some changes. My current plan is to keep going on daily doodles/posts for the length of a standard year, so roughly 365 days. After that, if things in personal life keep up the way they have, I may have to stop daily doodles and instead will post only if I have time. That likely means doodles every other day or every three days or something. At the very least I’ll still post a doodle once a week.
Not to worry though! I’ll still try my best even after I reach day 365 :)
I’ll discuss how things work a little more on my main @miizori later, but that’s as much as I can think to explain rn.
———————————————
Just a few more things I wanted to say!
This community has been so cool to interact with, so much tamer than some others I’ve been apart of in the past. I’m genuinely thankful for how much support and how nice everyone has been. I truly didn’t expect to get this far, I was fully expecting to have stopped like 10 doodles in lol. I especially love to see all your comments in the tags and people sharing their art. You’re all so cool :)))
I have a dtiys from back when I reached 300 followers that’s still available if you’re feeling up to it!
Also my main (again, @miizori) is where I make updates on doodle stuff, regular art stuff and so on if you’re interested at all in that lol
I think that’s all that I can remember wanting to say, so thanks!! I look forward to more doodles for you all :)
#hollow knight#silksong#hk hornet#hollow knight hornet#silksong hornet#hk shade lord#shade lord#hollow knight shade lord#hollow knight fanart#hk fanart#silksongeveryday
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꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝒜 𝐹𝒪𝒪𝐿 𝐼𝒩 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸
info ⭑ geto suguru x reader ﾉ 2.4k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ ex-boyfriend geto ﾉ band au ﾉ hurt/comfort ﾉ a wee bit angsty ﾉ some suggestive bits ﾉ reader is tipsy ﾉ ambiguous ending
note ⭑ hi! after writing this, i really wanna continue something with this band au geto! not sure if that means i'll be making this into a series. . . perhaps an anthology? idk! lmk if you'd be interested :3 happy reading !
the streets of tokyo during the late hours of the day are restless—especially here in shibuya. you’d think the bustling crowds, fast pace, and your slightly tipsy state would make it difficult to recognize anyone but the universe seems keen to prove you wrong recently.
because standing at the corner of the street you’re supposed to be turning at is him—the man you haven’t seen in nearly five months and didn’t plan on seeing any time soon.
the sight of geto makes you stop–or more accurately, stumble–in your tracks. you can’t help the way your eyes widen and your mouth hangs open. it’s as if time slows for a couple of seconds in his distant presence. you can’t think straight and you aren’t sure if that’s because of him, too, or if you have the alcohol to blame for that.
regardless, when you finally regain cognitive function after what feels like an eternity, you’re able to tell yourself that you need to turn around and find another route home. unfortunately for you, the thought comes a second too late, geto spinning to face you just before you have the opportunity to turn on your heel. the brief moment of shared eye contact doesn’t stop you from trying to run for the hills, though you quietly curse yourself for getting caught in this predicament while you do so.
you hear the shout of your name from behind you, but you don’t dare come to a halt. your perseverance to escape is futile, made apparent by the newfound proximity of the familiar voice and the feel of fingers snaking around your wrist. you aren’t sure what possesses you to do so, but you quickly swing around to face the man hellbent on catching up to you. he seems just as surprised as you if the way his eyebrows shoot up is any evidence.
“hey, wait—i come in peace.” geto raises his hands in mock surrender to show that he stands by his words.
you believe him.
your fingers are cool as they brush against your forehead in an attempt to form a coherent sentence. there isn’t much you can think to say other than, “sorry, i just wasn’t expecting to see you.”
“i gathered as much.” geto nods, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. he knew this reunion–if it ever even happened–would be awkward, but the air between the two of you is so tense that he finds it a little hard to breathe. he clears his throat before continuing. “kind of looked like you were trying to avoid me though.”
“got me there,” you softly admit.
geto understands but he doesn’t relate. he’s been trying to get a hold of you since he landed back in japan last week and his efforts have been fruitless until now. running into you this way may have been a coincidence but geto doesn’t intend on squandering what just might be his one chance to tell you what has been nagging at his mind for the past few months. “look, i was hoping we could talk.”
the expression that paints your face upon hearing his request is apprehension. he can practically see the blinking red lights and hear the alarm bells going off in your head. and, as much as he hates to admit it, your worry makes sense. the last time he asked you to talk, he broke up with you.
“ten minutes—fifteen, max.” geto attempts to bargain. he hopes the limit on the time you have to spend with him will convince you to agree, to hear him out. it hurts, but after chewing on his cheek, he adds another condition that’ll work in your favor. “and after, if you don’t want to see me again, i’ll leave you alone for good.”
with as much effort as you’ve been putting into steering clear of geto since his return, you’d think his words would come as a comfort to you. they don’t, though. the feelings that surge within you at hearing them contradict your strict avoidance of geto up until this point. they make you confront the fact that you have wanted to see him and can’t stomach the thought of never seeing him again.
you’re taking a risk by doing so, but you nod.
“okay, let’s talk.”
the two of you end up at some park a little ways away from the city center—one where you can see the orangey-red leaves flutter through the air once they fall from the trees and watch the fountain in the pond shoot up water that rains back down. despite how pretty the scenery is, you can’t help but look at geto instead.
it’s been practically half a year since you last saw him. you’re sure he’s changed quite a bit since then but all you can focus on are the ways he’s stayed the same, the little parts of him that you missed while he was gone—like the dragon tattoo that snakes up his shoulder to his collarbone. seeing it floods your head with memories of when the two of you were together. mornings spent tracing the delicate lines with feathery touches, kissing up the ink and coloring the creature with love bites.
you almost flinch at the reminder. your plan wasn’t to revisit the past, at least, not those moments, but seeing the tattoo on display makes it almost impossible. it’s geto’s fault for wearing that stupid sleeveless hoodie. you drag your gaze up to meet the obsidian shards that are his eyes. “strange choice of attire for such a chilly night.”
he rubs his arm at your observation, a grin gracing his lips. “yeah, i didn’t plan on staying out for long.”
you know that you agreed to come with him, but even sitting on opposite sides of the same bench is proving to be overwhelming. so, instead of regarding his innocent statement as simply that, you view it as an out. “if you have somewhere you need to go or someone you’re supposed to meet, we can do this another time.”
“no way.” geto doesn’t let a beat of quiet pass before he speaks and shakes his head. “i finally caught you and i’m not letting you get away so easily.”
the confession stuns you to silence. there are a million thoughts bouncing off the walls of your skull right now–how this wasn’t a good idea, that you weren’t obligated to listen to what he wants to say–but the one that worms its way past the others and to the forefront is that his words are… romantic. it’s frustrating that you aren’t mad at him, especially when you’ve spent so long convincing yourself that you should be.
it seems as though the feelings you tried so hard to bury are beginning to resurface.
you clear your throat. “what was it that you wanted to talk about?”
“right,” geto starts, a hand coming up to scratch at his neck. his tongue pokes out from between his lips to poke at the metal hoops wrapped around them. they’re things he does when he’s nervous, like when he first asked you out on a date or when he’d tune his guitar while waiting to go on stage. you wonder what it is on his mind that has him so on edge. though, you aren’t sure if it’s your place to ask, to show concern like you used to, so you stay quiet.
“i guess i wanted to talk about how we left things,” he finally tells you.
you should have seen this coming, and maybe part of you–a part you were trying to ignore–did. there isn’t much more the two of you can discuss. there have been a lot of unspoken thoughts lingering on your mind since that night, ones that you never planned on letting see the light of day. you’ve gone so long sitting on your feelings; what’s the point in digging them up now?
“what more is there to talk about exactly?” you ask, crossing your arms—using them as a shield. “you broke up with me to go on tour and i told you that i understood—no hard feelings.”
geto is quiet across from you, but you can tell there’s something weighing on his mind, words on the tip of his tongue. a few moments of stillness pass before he spits it out. “i don’t think you mean that. not then and… not now.”
“what do you want me to say, suguru?” you toss your hands up in frustration. your voice has been low, controlled up until this point but rises with your question, with your growing irritation. does he want to humiliate you even more than he already has? your intention of continuing to sit on your feelings, to keep them hidden, is lost with the way words unknowingly spill past your lips. “that i was dumb for thinking that i was worth a little more effort to you? that i should have let go of you as easily as you did me?”
there’s a certain level of relief that comes with your words but they also open up a wound you’ve been trying your best to close. all the emotions you felt that night feel as raw as they did then, as though you’re reliving it all over again.
the tears return, gathering at your lash line and threatening to fall but never rupturing the dam. the insecurity comes back, too. you can feel the ghost of a knife piercing your heart as you think about how it felt like he had chosen music over you. but who were you to ask him to reconsider—to think of you before his music, his dream?
tonight is turning out to be more than you can handle.
you’re about to stand, apologize for your outburst, and excuse yourself when geto speaks up.
“i didn’t let go of you—not really,” he quietly admits. his hand reaches up to his neck again, fingers twirling the loose hairs that happened to make it out of his bun. the action makes his words carry more truth and while you can’t bring yourself to believe him entirely, hearing them has an uncontrollable effect on you.
one of the tears you were adamant about not shedding until you were out of his sight rolls down your cheek. you quickly wipe it away with the sleeve of your shirt. “you don’t have to say that, it’s not going to make me feel any better.”
“i mean it, though, i do.” when you finally muster up the courage to meet his stare, his eyes tell you that what he said is the truth. his eyes have never lied. “i thought about you every day while i was on tour.”
the confession sends a pang to your heart. it clears up the fog of turmoil clouding your mind, although a haze of uncertainty lingers. does he mean that he missed you—the same way you’ve been hopelessly missing him?
you don’t have to aimlessly ponder, as geto continues.
“look, i asked you here because i wanted to tell you that i regret how i went about things. i thought about my choice–about you–a lot. and i realized a little too late that i owed us a chance. i was scared that we couldn’t handle long distance and that we’d both end up hurt but i never considered the possibility that it might have worked for us.”
geto unconsciously reaches for you, though when he realizes what he’s doing, he thinks better of it, letting his hand rest in his lap instead. just because he’s laying himself bare for you doesn’t mean the pain he’s caused has disappeared. besides, he still has one thing to say before you can even consider forgiving him.
his tongue glides across his lower lip, over the two silver hoops situated on either side. “i made a decision that both of us should have had a say in. i’m sorry.”
beyond the feelings of heartache and self-doubt, the thing you felt most that night was unheard—as if anything you could have thought to utter during that moment would have fallen on deaf ears. geto seems to have noticed that much, reflected on it and recognized his mistake. his apology, the acknowledgment of his fault, unchains the final weight that was tugging at your heart.
you sniff and dab at the stray tears that have trickled down your face. “thanks for saying so. and… i forgive you.”
there’s a weight of his own that makes geto’s chest feel lighter upon hearing your words. from the minute he started rehearsing this conversation, he imagined that he’d damaged you to the point of being unworthy of your compassion, your forgiveness. this is more than he could have asked for, even if you still choose to take him up on his offer of leaving you alone for good.
“i’m glad,” geto nods, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips, though he doesn’t let the short moment of happiness overtake him. “i know that was probably a lot and if you need to take some time to decide how you want us to proceed, if at all, i understand.”
you shake your head and the corners of geto’s lips fall into a neutral line. he made a good point earlier, one that you can’t ignore if you want to prevent yourself from getting hurt the way you did before. and despite just learning about it, geto was hurting, too. if you can minimize the pain either of you have to experience, you will.
you clear your throat with hopes that your voice will come out steady. “i’d rather come to that conclusion together. since it has to do with both of us, y’know?”
geto’s shoulders slump as the tension seeps from them. “yeah. yeah, of course. whenever you’re ready.”
“we can start tonight if you have time,” you suggest, bashfully rubbing up and down your arms. it really feels like you’re starting over. before you knew his name, simply when you had a crush on the hot guy playing at the bar you were visiting for the night. “i want to hear about how your tour went.”
“okay,” geto easily agrees, the smile from earlier making its way back to his lips. it meets his eyes and the obsidian shards sparkle—with hope.
hi there, sua here! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎
#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: jujutsu kaisen#geto suguru x reader#geto x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#geto x you#jjk x you#geto drabble#jjk drabbles#jujutsu kaisen drabbles#jjk imagines#jjk scenarios
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Cinders and Smoke
Azriel x Eris x Reader
Summary: Azriel finds that he and Eris are more alike than he thought.
Warnings: Graphic depictions of scars/past injuries.
Word Count: 2,061
Notes: A lil Azris angst for 4k?
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“You need to stop goading him into fights,” you sigh, exasperated by your mate. You sit across from Azriel at the dining room table, staring longingly at the door Eris has just disappeared through. You flinch in your seat when you hear the harsher than normal click of your bedroom door slamming shut.
Azriel places his fork onto the table with a clack that earns him another disapproving look. Stretching out his fingers, aching from how hard he’d been clutching the utensil in his hands he scoffs, glaring down at the metal. It doesn’t match any of the others and one of the prongs is more bent than the others and Azriel hates it. He knows Eris gave it to him on purpose, the asshole. The heir to the Autumn Court’s lifestyle is annoyingly endearing. Azriel hopes it doesn’t change when he becomes High Lord.
He’s still fuming from the constant back and forth bickering with the arrogant son of Autumn. It’s bad enough that you live with Eris in the Autumn Court full time, and how Azriel’s the one who has to sneak in and out of this quaint, cozy home, but he bristles at your scolding before a burning rush of guilt twists in his stomach.
“He needs to learn how to share,” Azriel growls, thinking back to the conversation you’d all been having over your meal. “I don’t get to see you as often as I’d like and when I’m here it feels like I’m a guest, not at home with my mate.”
Your gaze softens at his admission. Reaching out for his hands you watch as your mate huffs, reluctantly threading his fingers through yours like the knots connecting your souls.
“Only a little longer, mate,” you murmur, rubbing his knuckles with your thumbs. It’s a hope that Eris will overthrow Beron, but neither of you believe it will happen soon. It’s something, though, knowing that there are plans in motion so that one day there won’t be a perimeter keeping you from seeing either of your mates.
You’re all playing the long game. And what a long, long game it is.
“I don’t know how much longer I can take,” Azriel whispers, voice thick with emotion. He thought that finding his mate would be everything, and it is, but having to share you with Eris was not something he’d ever planned. And with you being the known mate of the heir to Autumn, you had always been by his side, flaunted in meetings and adored by the people of the court. Azriel has never stood a chance, always secret visits and fleeting looks that no one but the three of you understood what they mean. He yearns to be able to stay the night, the week, forever with you.
“Maybe we can talk to Eris,” you suggest, “Maybe he’ll let me visit–”
Azriel chuckles dryly, rolling his eyes. “My love, I think we both know that you won’t be going anywhere near the Night Court without him.”
“Just let me talk to him,” you plead. You know that he’s sore about these things. Even for the shadowsinger to admit this is hard enough, but letting Eris know about how he truly feels? No, he won’t have it unless it’s through a well articulated plan, where he can control the conversation and keep his emotions in check. “It will be quick, I promise.”
He grumbles because he can’t say no to you. You beam, pecking him on the cheek as you pass, headed towards the bedroom Eris has locked himself in.
Your other mate waits. A few minutes turn into many and he’s at the end of his tether. He looks at the clock on the wall. He needs to be headed back to the Night Court soon and he’d hardly had any time to see you. He’s simmering with anger until finally, he’s had enough.
Azriel takes the stairs two at a time because no, he did not come all this way to fight and not spend time with his mate. Eris can be a prissy prince elsewhere. His boots are silent as he makes for the doorway, shoving it open with an insult already loaded on his tongue–
He freezes. Everything in his mind, his body, goes still. It’s not the sight of Eris on top of you in the bed that does it. Having two mates, Azriel’s prepared himself for the possibility of having to share you like this, thought about it many times, the lordling’s hands all over your body. It’s Eris that has him screeching to a stop.
The Autumn Prince is shirtless, settled between your legs. But it’s his back that catches Azriel off guard. It’s a massacre of bright pink scars.
Eris’ startled eyes find yours. You can feel the pounding of his heart in your own chest and the terrified look on his face has you wrapping your arms around him protectively. It had taken a lot to even show you the fucked up marks on his back, and even though your love for him is unyielding, he’s still insecure about his scars.
You’re okay, you send through your mental connection with him. It’s a coo of reassurance that you know he doesn’t believe but accepts anyways. His fingers clench the linen sheets so tightly you think they’ll rip, and you filter as much calming warmth and love as you can down the bond to him.
It’s difficult to watch as it plays out. Azriel, a looming figure in the doorway. You observe how his calculated eyes scan Eris’ body, the thick, mottled marks trailing across the expanse of his back from his broad shoulders to his taut waist. Your very intelligent mate figures it out quickly, sending you a questioning look, brows drawn together and golden eyes wide. Should I leave or should I stay?
Your stare answers his question.
Eris burrows his head into the crook of your neck at the sound of Azriel’s first step towards the large bed. The shadowsinger is making it known that he’s moving closer, thick-soled boots ringing like the bell tower as he nears, letting the Autumn heir prepare himself. His breathing is uneven against your throat and his hands are shaking as they find yours to latch onto for comfort.
When Azriel rounds the side of the bed closest to where you and your mate lie, he speaks.
“Eris–”
The male hiding in your neck laughs wetly, interrupting the pitied response he figures is coming from Azriel’s mouth. “You didn’t think fire could burn, did you?”
Azriel swallows harshly, eyes flicking up to find yours again. You send encouraging feelings through the bond to him, to the both of them. It’s no longer time to fight.
“When I thought about having a mate, I never bargained for two, let alone you, godsdamnit,” Azriel ignores Eris’ harsh words. His voice is soft, touch even more so as he tentatively reaches out to caress the melted skin of Eris’ back. It’s ragged, red and pink and his stomach churns at the sight of a perfect handprint. It’s the oldest, by the looks of it, wrapping around his shoulder, marring the freckled skin there. Eris flinches at the brush of Azriel’s fingers upon his tainted skin, and the shadow singer looks like he might pull away, but he presses on and Eris lets him. He lets the Night Court native trace the deformed planes of his back, and you watch Azriel’s eyes clear, realizing just what you’ve been telling him all along.
“But here we are,” Azriel continues. Eris’ body is stock still beneath his touch and the shadowsinger can feel the tension in his bones but he doesn’t stop, can’t force himself to when he’s just like him. All these years, and no one had ever known the punishments the lordling has had to endure by the fiery hands of his own father. “Arguing like a bunch of children.”
“You started it,” Eris mutters. There’s a strain in his voice and you bite back a smile, squeezing his hand reassuringly.
“I did,” Azriel concedes quietly. He’ll take the blame for this one, because Eris is letting him see something that he never thought he’d have to share with anyone other than you. Fury twists his gut like Helfire because it reminds him so much of his own life. The family that had neglected him, both father and brothers alike, just as Eris has gone through. Maybe that is why the Mother had made you both of their mates, to take care of the males made of smoke and flame and care for them and love them like they deserve. “And I’m finding myself wanting your attention just as much as my mates’.”
His fingers pause as the admission slips from his lips. The room is silent, even the fire that was raging in the hearth when Azriel had walked in has gone quiet, stifled, and not even his shadows move from their hiding spots in the darkness of the room.
“What are you saying?” Eris asks weakly. He refuses to look over his shoulder and meet the gaze of the shadowsinger, eyes the color of the Autumn rye he loves. He’s holding your hand so tightly that it hurts, and you stroke his copper hair soothingly, always his greatest support system.
Azriel’s temper flares. He wants Eris to look at him. To see the absolute honesty in his eyes as he speaks this truth. He catches your gaze instead. The reassurance and adoration pooling them in waves is all he needs to shove that feeling aside and say what desperately needs to be spoken.
“I’m fucking weak for you, Eris Vanserra.”
The admission is enough to rip the copper haired male's head from his hiding place, twisting around to stare at the winged male confessing. “What?”
“You know I can feel your emotions through the bond too, don’t you? I can feel how much you love her, when you’re happy and sad and terrified. You were fucking terrified when I walked through that door, and I can feel it now, right here in my chest,” Azriel points to his heart, face serious. Eris doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s trapped, hovering above you, hanging onto every word that pours from the shadowsingers mouth.
Azriel continues. “But we’re the same. Have always been, and neither of us realized it. We feel the same, about our mate, about our courts, and not a day goes by where I don’t think about my mate, but also the one she’s mated to. I get that flood of emotions when you walk in a room too, the same ones you get when you see me. Nervousness, that fluttering in your stomach, the way you watch us when we’re together, that yearning for more. I see you, Eris, but can you see me through all that smoke?”
“I–” Eris chokes, unsure of what to say. Here, in front of him, a Night Court male he’s always been enemies with, bares himself, tears his chest wide open for him to view. It makes him swoon a little, and your comforting fingers have stilled, trying not to distract him as he ponders his feelings for the shadowsinger. “I see you too, Azriel.”
You can’t help but watch as Azriel launches himself at Eris, wings pulled tightly into his back so as not to hit you as he tackles the copper haired male to the bed. Eris lets out a gasp that’s smothered by Azriel’s lips on his, a harsh and hot kiss that makes his stomach burn. It takes Eris a moment to catch up, Azriel’s tongue dipping into his mouth to taste. His strong hands are gentle as they slide down his back, exploring, loving. It makes him want to cry.
Their chests heave when they part. Azriel shifts just enough so his body brushes against Eris’ with every breath. Just enough to let the Autumn Court male know that while he has to return to the Night Court for now, he is always with him. There are no cinders without smoke. The tug in Eris’ chest and the gleam in Azriel’s eyes confirm it.
You startle the two of them, beaming down at your mates from the top of the bed.
“So, no more fighting right?”
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Heya! Just hear me out:
When their s/o buys matching hoodies (w/ Bullfrog & Rayman/Ramon)
Thank you for the request !
This is a really wholesome and original idea of a prompt , I really enjoyed writing it :D
I apologize for the long wait , but it’s been a very , very busy week , and I’ve been feeling a bit too tired to write anything the past days … sorry about that ;(
Anyway , I hope this turned out okay !
Details : use of gender neutral reader ;
established relationships ;
no warnings needed
Bullfrog 💚
When you come back home and show him the matching hoodies you got while you were outside , Bullfrog is definitely very surprised :
I honestly don’t think he has ever received something like this as a gift , so expect him to be especially enthusiastic .
< Merci beaucoup my dear , it looks so nice ! >
< Haha , you’re welcome sweetie !
I just couldn’t help myself : the idea of sharing some matching clothing with you sounded amazing to be honest ~ >
This frog will have the brightest smile on his face when you’re both wearing the matching hoodies …
He just can’t stop gushing about how much he likes his and just how cute you look in yours , it never fails to make you smile ://)
The other Ghosts have seen you two with the matching hoodies occasionally , and while Dolph thinks it’s … well , maybe a bit too cheesy , Jade definitely supports you both , even suggesting more matching clothing you could get …
< Oh - you guys should definitely try wearing these !
I think you’d look super cute in them ! >
< *sigh* … please don’t encourage this . >
It’s especially nice when you’re in the safety of your home , cuddling under the comforting warmth of the hoodies and just enjoying each other’s company …
< y/n , thanks again for this hoodie … I just love it ! >
< Don’t mention it … I just really wanted to do something nice for you , y’know ?
If anyone deserves that , it’s you . >
< Aw , venez ici mon amour ~ >
< Heyy - hahah , that tickles honey ! ~ >
Rayman 🧡
To say that Rayman is happy about your gift would be an understatement :
the fact that you decided to surprise him with a matching hoodie just to see him smile is enough to make his daily stress caused by his job disappear for a few precious minutes …
< So uh , do you like it ? I wasn’t sure about the color at first , I thought it might be a bit too much , but these were the last matching hoodies they had left , and - >
< Like it ?
y/n , I love it ! You couldn’t have chosen better ! >
Rayman is already a big fan of spoiling you , so as soon as he understands that you’re into matching clothing you better believe that he’s going to buy you a lot more of them in the future … maybe exaggerating a little sometimes , but he just wants to do all he can to make you feel loved and appreciated .
< Woah - Ray what happened ? You look like you just bought an entire store ! >
< Uff - it’s okay , I just gotta carry these inside … gimme a second … >
< Hold on , let me help you …
I really appreciate you getting me all these gifts honey , but maybe don’t get so many next time : I don’t want you to hurt yourself carrying them around ! >
< Heh … you’re right , you’re right …
I just couldn’t help myself : you deserve all the best things I could possibly give you . >
< Pfft … you’re always so sweet , thank you ~ >
< Anything for you , y/n ~ >
When you’re separated during the day , Rayman likes to carry his hoodie with him and keep it by his side when he’s at work : just looking at it makes him feel so happy to have a loving partner like you , you truly are the best thing that’s ever happened to him ❤️
He loves it whenever the two of you are outside wearing the matching hoodies , it’s like a nice little way of showing to everyone around that his heart belongs to you and you alone …
Also if you ever feel worried about him getting embarrassed by it , Rayman is quick to make your anxiety go away .
< That’s nonsense darling … this isn’t just any hoodie , it’s a gift from you , and that makes it all the more special : I could never get embarrassed by it ! >
Ramon 🖤
Okay , so Ramon might get … pretty worried at the thought that you went to buy something , especially without him :
he’s the one who is supposed to watch over you , plus Eden knows who you are … they could’ve taken the opportunity to capture you and do horrible things to you .
… however , he can’t bring himself to be actually angry .
< I’m sorry Ram … I just wanted to do something nice for you , you’ve been looking down lately and I thought … >
< No - no no , I like the hoodie y/n , I do … it was very sweet of you to do this for me .
Still , please remember that Eden is on the hunt for us , you can’t just go outside without a way to protect yourself .
Just … be more careful next time , okay ?
I love you , and I can’t bare the thought of you getting hurt … >
< I love you too , sweetie … I’ll be more careful , I promise . >
Sometimes , Ramon is going to hold the hoodie and just … stare at it , quietly reflecting to himself :
you put your life on the line to get it for him … you risked getting hurt , all to give him a gift that could make him happy …
While that thought worries him , he just can’t help but smile a little in front of your sheer dedication to make him smile .
It can get very cold in the hiding place you’re both staying in , so you and Ramon definitely cuddle while wearing the hoodies :
they’re so warm and cozy … they really make those little moments of affection even better .
< Are you comfortable like this , y/n ? >
< Mhm … couldn’t be better ~ >
It’s not rare for you to stumble upon a sleeping Ramon using the hoodie as a blanket , and he just looks … so cute ;//;
He often has trouble sleeping , so having your gift so close to him definitely helps him relax … not as much as actually holding you , of course , but it’s still nice !
#captain laserhawk#x reader#bullfrog x reader#rayman x reader#bullfrog captain laserhawk#captain laserhawk bullfrog#captain lazerhawk rayman#captain lazerhawk bullfrog#rayman#gender neutral reader
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I promise.
Pairing: Stereo!Barbie x Fem!Reader
Warnings: fluff, love story, lesbo, suggestive smut but nothing really said.
Summary: (Y/n) helps the Barbies take Barbie-land back.. but falls in love with Barbie in the process. Little does she know.. Barbie loves her back.
(A/N): It’s my first time writing on Tumblr guysss! I hope you like it :)
The Kens took over everything in Barbieland.. the houses, girls night, the Barbies.. and the only way to get the Barbies back was for Gloria to give a speech.. and then that Barbie would be a decoy Barbie to get all the Barbie’s back.
Stereo!Barbie and I were helping get the Barbies constitution back in place.
“I can’t believe we’ve almost done it!” Barbie said excitedly to me. “All these emotions are just overwhelming right now..” Barbie grabs my hands. Oh my god.. “Aren’t you excited to get the constitution put back in place?” She asks with hopeful eyes. “Yeah.. I’m very happy that Barbieland will be back to normal” I answer smiling at her.
I knew that I would probably never see Barbie again after all of this.. I’d go home and Barbie would be perfect in Barbieland again.. I grew feelings for Barbie over the past week we’ve been together. Of course Barbie wouldn’t like me back.. Barbieland was the idea that Barbies and Kens would be together and Ken was always trying to get Barbie’s attention. A human and a Barbie doll wouldn’t work out.
Tonight Barbie was going to take Ken to be his ‘long-term, long-distance, low-commitment casual girlfriend’ whatever that meant.. I’m just a bit jealous by this.. even though I knew it was all apart of the plan.. but what if she falls in love with Ken in the process? What if she decides to stay with Ken? I am hopelessly in love with Barbie…
“(Y/n)? Are you okay?” Barbie asks. I determine whether I should tell Barbie the truth.
“Barbie? I- I- I love you..” Barbie looks at me surprised. “You do?” She asks. “I know barbies are supposed to be with Ken and I know you probably like Ken.. but I just wanted to get it off my chest.” I tell Barbie and she starts laughing. I’ve done it now.. Barbie of course doesn’t like me.. “I don’t like Ken..” this surprises me “you don’t?” Barbie shakes her head. “Ken’s just a really good friend, and I love you too” Barbie gets closer to me placing her hands on my waist, I can’t believe this.. barbie actually likes me. “Then why are you going to be Ken’s ‘long-term, long-distance, low-commitment casual girlfriend’?” Barbie sighs and caresses my cheek. Her hands are soft. “it’s all apart of the plan.. we need to save Barbieland. But I promise I won’t love Ken.. I’ll always love you.” Barbie kisses me softly. Her lips are soft too.. One kiss showed me all of Barbie’s feeling towards me. “I love you.” Barbie tells me. “I love you too.”
At the beach later that night all the Kens are singing to all the Barbies this weird song that the Kens like. I was with Weird Barbie, Gloria, and Sasha. “I can tell you like Barbie” Gloria says to me. “How could you tell?” I face towards Gloria “I just can..” I chuckle at Gloria’s comment. “Is it your mom sense?” I ask, joking a bit. “Maybe.” All the Barbie’s come back to Weird Barbie’s house. Barbie walks over to me and she wraps her arms around me pulling me close. “I hope you’re not jealous now..” I look over at her “I’m not.. I promise.” She chuckles.. “I think after all of this is over I want to stay in the real world.” I look over at her surprised. “Really? Why? You’ve always wanted to be perfect in Barbieland..” I ask her. “I get to be with you.. but also I already have feelings and I’m okay with change now. I’d also like to have the ideas, not be the idea.” She says. “Oh, Barbie… are you sure?” Barbie nods.
Barbie finally became human and Ken accepted that Barbie didn’t love him. Barbie and I started living together in a small apartment in LA.. Gloria and Sasha come over all the time for dinner and sometimes we go over to their house.
“Baby, Gloria and Sasha are coming over again tonight!” Barbie says excitedly crawling on the bed and wrapping her arms around me. “Do they have to come over like every night? When do we ever have time to ourselves?” Barbie kissed my lips “we have time to ourselves all the time.. you know what? Tomorrow we’ll have the whole night to ourselves… just you and me.. okay?”
The following night Barbie stuck to what she said.. “a whole night to ourselves.. what to do?” Barbie says teasingly.
And the rest of our story will be left to your imagination.
The end.
#barbie meme#barbie#barbie 2023#barbie x y/n#barbie x reader#barbie x fem!reader#barbie x you#margot robbie#margot robbie x reader#Margot Robbie x fem!reader
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Let Me Help
Requested Here!
Pairing: Dominique Luca x fostered!SWAT!fem!reader
Summary: When Los Angeles is hit with a freak cold front and your apartment loses heat, you don't ask for help. Luca sees how sick you are and pays you a visit which ends with him taking you back to his house to heal.
Warnings: reader was a foster kid, angst, sickness (pneumonia), fluff and comfort! there's also several Batman references. oops.
Word Count: 2.6k+ words
Masterlist Directory | Luca Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List
In hindsight, becoming a member of S.W.A.T. may have been a mistake. Not because you don’t enjoy the work or get along with your team but because your past makes certain things hard for you. Growing up in the foster system is a lot of things, and it caused you to be incredibly self-reliant. You learned to be responsible and take care of yourself at a very early age. More than that, you were led to believe that no one would ever want to help you. So, now that you are an adult, you find it hard to ask for help. No matter who it is, asking for assistance or backup is not easy, which makes it hard to be a member of 20-David sometimes.
When you’re in the field, you can switch that part of your brain off, and become a S.W.A.T. officer rather than a foster kid. But the moment you get back to HQ and need your teammates’ help, the words seem to disappear, and you forget how to ask people to be there for you, even those closest to you.
Joining 20-David, however, saved your life. Before S.W.A.T., you were, for the most part, alone and lost. They gave you a home, a family, and everything else you never had before. While every team member cares about you, Luca shows you what it is like to be loved and appreciated.
✯✯✯✯✯
“It’s freezing out there,” Hondo complains as he enters HQ.
“Coldest winter in history according to the news,” Street replies. “Which means desperate, cold people and more calls for us. Any chance this is like Batman, and Alfred can make us special winter uniforms before the first one?”
“Sure,” you answer. “I’m sure that’s precisely what Hicks is doing right now.”
“What am I doing?” he asks as he rounds a corner.
“Nothing,” you and Street answer together.
“Alfred,” Street whispers to you.
You press your lips together to keep yourself from laughing while suppressing a shiver. It is certainly cold, and the heat in your apartment complex went out in the middle of the night. Most people then left and found somewhere else to stay, but hotels are booked, and you can’t find the right time or words to ask your team to lend you a hand or a place to stay.
“Sorry I’m late,” Luca says as he joins your side.
He rubs his hands together to warm up and smiles at you. Hicks gives you information on a fugitive warrant and pulls up a blueprint of the man’s house. There are several points of entry, but the man knows how to barricade all of them, so your team will have to take a unique approach.
“Cut the power and wait for him to get cold,” Deacon suggests.
“Man, what do you have to complain about?” Hondo asks. “You’ve got a wife and four kids to keep you warm.”
“Really?” Hicks asks. “You wanna bring up body heat, playboy?”
You chuckle and stick your hands farther into your pockets. Luca shakes his head beside you before lowering his voice to ask how you are.
“I’m alright. Ready for sunny Los Angeles to get sunny again,” you answer. “What about you?”
“I’d have to say the same. If you want to come over for my world-famous hot chocolate tonight, feel free,” Luca offers.
“Hot chocolate?” Street asks.
“That got his attention better than I ever have,” Hicks grumbles.
“Luca’s hot chocolate is like Christmas and happiness and pure warmth in a cup. And I do pay attention to you, Commander, but my eyelids are frozen shut.”
“Just, go execute the warrant and get back. It’s going to be a long week with this cold front,” Hicks interjects.
“Yes, sir,” Hondo replies. “Let’s roll.”
When you open your locker and realize you forgot your second long-sleeved t-shirt at home, you lean your head against the locker door.
“Here,” Luca says as he extends a jacket to you. “It’s an old one, but I accidentally picked up both.”
“I can’t accept that,” you begin.
“I don’t need it. Seriously, I’ll feel better knowing you’re warm. Work with me?”
Luca smiles, and you accept the jacket with a smile. It’s warm and smells like Luca’s cologne, so, once it’s on, you regret arguing against it. If you could live in this jacket, you would.
“We got this,” Luca reminds you as he walks by your side to Black Betty.
✯✯✯✯✯
The following morning, when your alarm goes off, you feel like you can’t wake up. Your apartment is still without heat, and the permeating cold sucks the energy out of you. When you finally pry your eyes open, you remember that you are still wearing Luca’s jacket, and that gives you the surge of energy you need to get out of bed and get ready. You’ve been sleeping in too many layers, and with each one you strip off, you feel the cold settle further into you. Your joints are stiff, your nose is runny, and you can’t shake the tiredness caused by the dropping temperature. Something needs to change, but you don’t know how to fix it. There has to be a trick to surviving this without help… if only you knew what it was.
In the warm locker room, you scroll through your phone in a sad attempt to find a hotel or rental house you can afford. They’re all booked through the end of the week or ridiculously overpriced, so you turn the phone off and lean back against the bench.
“How are you?” Luca asks when he enters. “The jacket looks good on you.”
“Oh, do you need it back?” You sit up as you ask, but Luca smiles and waves you off.
“No, keep it as long as you want. Can’t remember the last time I wore it. Everything okay on your side of town? Some of the buildings in my neighborhood lost heat during the night.”
You shake your head as you prepare to lie. “Everything’s good.”
Luca nods but glances over when you sniff. The cold can be blamed for some of what is happening in Los Angeles right now, but Luca suspects there is something that you aren’t telling him. He’s repeatedly told you he’s here for you, but Street explained that foster kids aren’t great at reaching out, no matter how close someone is. So, Luca will wait for you to come to him, and his arms will be open when you do.
✯✯✯✯✯
By the end of the week, you are miserable. The cold front has stalled, so meteorologists have little idea about when it will warm up again, and your apartment is getting colder every day. You’ve been able to sleep despite the conditions, but each morning, waking up is harder than the day before. You’re constantly tired, and your sniffles worsen, becoming an ache in your chest. The joint pain has worsened, and while it eases at work, it only intensifies each night you return home.
Luca keeps a close eye on you and can tell you’re tired, but he doesn’t want to push you to talk. If he could convince you to tell Street what's up, maybe you’d be more open, he thinks. You interrupt his internal debate with a deep cough. It rattles your chest and hurts your body as it escapes.
“That does not sound good,” Luca says as he turns toward you.
You’re shivering and can barely keep your eyes open, but you shake your head and reply, “I’m good. The cold is just bothering my allergies, I think.”
Hondo yells for you, and you stand quickly, ignoring the pain as you do so. Luca watches you go and grows more concerned for you. He asks Deacon if he’s noticed you acting differently and Deacon immediately answers that he is nearly certain you are getting sick. They both know you won’t tell anyone, preferring to risk your safety at work rather than asking for assistance. It’s part of your personality, even if it worries them.
Out of stubbornness and not recognizing that your team is worried about your well-being, you brush off their questions and concerns about your health. You’ve been living in the cold for nearly a week now, and you are sure the heat will be fixed soon (even if you have to figure out how to repair it yourself). So, you return home to a freezing apartment and silently hope you wake up in the morning.
✯✯✯✯✯
Not only do you wake up, but you wake up while it’s still dark out because you’re coughing and shaking. You’re burning up, which is the first of many clues that you are not okay. After picking up your phone, you find Luca’s contact and sit with your finger positioned over the call button. He would happily come to get you and let you rest in his heated house, but when you imagine him answering, you no longer want to admit you need help. So, you get up and slowly get ready before driving to S.W.A.T. HQ. At the least, you can sit in a warm room before your shift starts.
When you enter, Rocker’s team is about to start a training exercise and invite you to join. You have an hour before you have to be in uniform, so you agree, mostly so they don’t get as suspicious as 20-David already is.
At the end of the exercise, you are holding your coughs in and fighting to hide how hard your arms and hands are shaking. You feel terrible, and anyone who looks at your target from the shooting range will be able to see that it’s affecting your work.
You don’t notice Luca standing at the edge of the rink, and when Rocker knocks you to the mat with a single hit, he jumps onto the mat beside you.
“Hey,” he calls as he gestures for Rocker to step back.
His words don’t reach your ears over your coughing, but you see him and force yourself to calm down. Luca and Rocker stand over you, clearly concerned, and you smile as you accept their help.
“I’m fine,” you promise. “Just wanted to see if Rocker would pull his punches for a girl.”
“The fist of justice is unisex,” Rocker replies sarcastically.
“You and Street should have a Batman marathon,” you reply as you follow Luca to the locker room.
“I’m just going to be direct,” Luca begins once you’re alone. “I’m really worried about you.”
“Luca, I’m just not doing well with the cold. I’ll be fine, though. I appreciate the concern, but it’s unnecessary.”
You stand, and Luca says your name. Stopping, you can’t decide if you want to let go and tell him everything or push him away like you normally do.
“Luca, I am fine.”
“You clearly are not.”
“I know that you care, but leave it alone, Luca.”
You walk about before he responds. As you pass Deacon, you realize that Luca touched your skin, so he probably suspects you have a fever. However, your conversation with Luca makes you feel worse, so you decide to power through the day and then call your landlord about your heater. Again.
✯✯✯✯✯
Luca watches you leave the minute your shift is over. You don’t change or wash up, and he decides that he can’t leave it, or you, alone any longer. As he drives to your apartment, Luca plans to remind you that you need to rest and take care of yourself, especially in this weather. He sees a drugstore and stops quickly to gather a few things he thinks may help you feel better. Maybe you’ll surprise him by accepting his offer to help you care for yourself.
When Luca pulls into the parking lot of your apartment, he’s surprised to find it nearly empty. He parks behind your car and rushes to your door. His concern grows with each moment he waits for your answer.
✯✯✯✯✯
You continue to shiver painfully despite being dressed in your tactical uniform, plus several sweatshirts, Luca’s jacket, and a blanket around your shoulders. Someone knocks on your door, and the only reason you force yourself off the bed is out of hope that it is the heat repair guy. When you open the door, you can’t decide to be happy or disappointed that it’s Luca.
Your voice is broken up by your harsh shivers as you ask what he’s doing there. Luca immediately feels how cold your apartment is and pushes inside. He sets a plastic bag on your counter before walking into your bedroom. He moves silently around your home like he belongs there and gathers your things as he goes.
“What are you doing?” you ask quietly.
“Are you out of your mind?” Luca replies. Despite the harshness of his question, his voice is soft, if a little annoyed. “How long has your heat been out? You said the cold was getting to you – because you let it in. Living like this is the reason you are sick! You should have told me, any one of us, so that we could help you. My house is always open to you, you know that.”
You get confused watching Luca gather your things while ranting about how you should have told him something. He reprimands you and helps you at the same time, it seems.
“Let’s go,” he says as he puts the bag he brought in your stuffed backpack.
“Where?” you inquire as you pull the blanket tighter around you.
“My house. Someone has to help you overcome the pneumonia you probably have.”
“But-“
“No more buts,” Luca declares. “I’m not asking, babe.”
The pet name catches you off guard, but you take Luca’s offered hand without question. You didn’t ask for help, but accepting it isn’t necessarily easier than asking for it. Once you’re at his house, he makes you comfortable on the couch before bringing you a warm drink and some medicine. His requests are soft-spoken, and you obey wordlessly.
“Thank you,” you murmur when he finally sits beside you.
Luca shakes his head and clenches his jaw quickly. “I’ll always be here to help you. I enjoy protecting you, caring for you, all of it. But you have to stop acting like it’s an imposition.”
“I can’t tell if you’re being sappy or are just really annoyed with me.”
“Both!” Luca exclaims. “Look, I can understand being independent to a degree, but living like that could have been so much worse than this, and this is bad.”
You nod and look down at the blanket. “I have trouble asking for help,” you admit. “Growing up, I didn’t have people I could ask for help. The few that I did ask wouldn’t help me, so I just learned to do everything by myself. Finding the words, the opportunity to ask… it’s hard.”
Luca’s eyes soften as he lays his hands over yours. “I promise that I will always be here. I will always be ready, able, and willing to help you. I want to help you because I care about you.”
“Why am I so important?” you whisper as you look into his eyes.
Luca licks his lips before deciding to tell you a version of the truth. “Because I care about you. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone before.”
He says care, but he thinks love. Maybe after he’s gotten you healthy again, you can have an open and honest conversation with one another. For now, though, you close your eyes and lean against his shoulder, warm and happy.
“I care about you, too. More than I should,” you mumble against Luca's shirt before falling asleep.
Luca smiles and tugs the blanket tighter around your shoulders before kissing your forehead. He will help you until he can’t help you anymore and love every moment of it, he thinks.
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I’ve got a bit of a theory brewing in my noggin regarding the Guide. I’m placing bets that the Guide’s storyline points towards her villain arc. Hear me out-
In season 3 the Guide is appointed to assist the new leaders of the Vampiric Council, our Staten Island vampires. She has been an underling for the vampiric council for centuries and manages the Temple of Blood-Devourers.
She has followed the orders of many legendary councils, "the best of the best" as she refers to them. Now she is in the hands of a group of vampires who do not care about the rules and who violate the vampiric code by which they live at every turn. But she is required to help them and so she does.
In season 4, she quickly finds that she cannot control them. Laszlo and Colin destroy artifacts from the Chamber of Curiosities. Nandor and Nadja neglect to feed the sire and he escapes. She oversaw the sacred reliquary for hundreds of years and they dismantled all of it in a matter of weeks. Then Nadja suggests they turn the whole place into a bar. She is completely opposed to this idea and only comes around when Nadja tells the Guide that the liquidator of underlings of the Supreme Worldwide Vampiric Council, Lord Tyractus (?), said that it would be better used as a bar.
This is of course a lie but the Guide cares what the Supreme Vampiric Council thinks of her and her dedicated work. So, she agrees to the bar. She can’t get her wraiths to help with converting the space into a bar because “they know what her heart really wants”. To help get through this mental block, Laszlo books her for a therapy session. That’s where we discover her history of falling in love with a Van Helsing. (I would also like to point out that the picture of the Guide with the Van Helsing in her flashback is the same one we see in the open credits for season 5) Her form of punishment is to serve the Vampiric Council as an underling for eternity. She explicitly tells Laszlo in her therapy session that “if anything gets changed here something very bad will happen.” Could this be hinting towards some greater power beyond her control?
Finally they are able to gut the chambers for Nadja’s bar. Nadja treats the Guide and her wraiths so poorly the whole time. Despite all this, she sticks by Nadja’s side. She does her best to fulfill her duties despite their constant mistreatment.
We learn in the beginning of season 5 that she is once again left waiting at the Vampiric Council. At this point she has mostly given up on trying to make them follow the legacy of the vampiric council. So instead, she pursues respect and admiration from the vampires. But she cannot make her way into the clique.
She wants to live with them, but they make up a fake excuse about there being zoning rules that limit four vampires to a house. Then she tries to support a depressed Nadja after the bar burned down from the fire Nadja started. The guide can’t get through to her, so she suggests maybe it is a hex. She asks Nadja if she has been unkind to anyone in her past. Nadja is in denial that she could have possibly hurt anyone, let alone the Guide.
The Guide knows witchcraft, so it would make sense that she placed this “hex” on Nadja. But is the hex even real? Or did the Guide just say that to scare Nadja into realizing her own selfish behaviors?
Now the Roast is where we see things shift for the Guide.
At the roast she tells Baron that Guillermo was the one who set him on fire, because she felt bad that he wasn’t in on the joke. She mentions how bad it feels to not feel included. But then she also tells the Baron that Guillermo is a Van Helsing. This I believe is purposeful.
They have neglected her, given her nothing to actually guide, and left her aimless. She ends up apologizing and admitting to Nandor and Nadja that she told the Baron that Guillermo burned him. But she purposefully leaves out that she told the Baron about Guillermo's Van Helsing blood, too.
In the end, she is an underling for the Vampiric Council. She will not risk everything for these vampires, because her loyalties lie with the Supreme Vampiric Council. I am theorizing that she may end up selling Guillermo out to show her loyalty to the Supreme Vampiric Council and as a way of getting some revenge on the vamps for how they’ve mistreated her. I believe it’s possible she could be working with this “mysterious, illustrious” vampire (possibly part of the Supreme Vampiric Council?) to lure Guillermo into a trap.
In the screen capture for the 9th episode, we see Guillermo and the Guide standing next to each other. I don’t believe the Guide has any good intentions towards Guillermo after seeing how she betrayed him by telling the Baron about his slayer blood.
I mean there’s only so long someone can put up with being left out of a friend group and being unappreciated.
Addition:
I mean, the Guide has barely been a part of the last few episodes. They added her to the main cast/opening credits but her character's only story so far is that she wants to be roomies with the vampires. She made no progress in her own story up until the Roast. She took matters into her own hands by divulging Guillermo's secrets.. and if she continues in that direction then she could very well become the villian. It just doesn't make sense to have so little story for a main cast member. They have to be taking a big jump with her character in these last two episodes. Otherwise the whole Nadja and Guide subplot will fall completely flat. And imagine Nadja's surprise when she finds out that the Guide was behind the hex?
#all aboard the delusion train#thanks to the discord server for planting this idea in my head#what we do in the shadows#wwdits#wwdits spoilers#what we do in the shadows spoilers
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Antsy
Characters/Ships: Yae Miko x reader & Ei x reader
Synopsis: You decide to release your pent up emotions by teasing them
Warnings: Suggestive content written by a minor, teasing
The puppet sat stoically on the throne, face void of emotion as she remained in a deep state of meditation.
You’ve been stuck with the puppet for a solid 2 weeks and Ei has yet to come back out of her Euthymia. Even after promising that she would take more breaks, her recent enlightenment has doubled her efforts in pursuing a better Inazuma.
She left you alone with the puppet, which isn’t exactly terrible but it just isn’t Ei. Despite her programming the affection the puppet shows is different from Ei’s. You don’t feel Ei when you lock hands, but Ei can feel every bit of contact. The puppet is but and extension of the archon, surly the sound of a low, sultry moan could get the attention of your beloved archon.
When the puppet sees you she asks of your day, how are you and why you’re in the tenshukaku. To which then you lean close to the puppet’s ear and moan out Ei’s name.
You giggle as you walk away, only for the room around you to transform into a grander space. Pillars like up against a sandy, barren surface. The sky is filled with angry purple storm clouds. And in the center sits a cross-legged Ei floating in meditation.
Ei blinks open her eyes and stares down at your confused expression. She steps down from her position in the air, almost as if she’s walking down an invisible set of stairs.
When you meet face to face she tilts your chin up with her index finger, brings her face so close to you that your lips are inches from touching her own.
“Now that you’ve captured my attention, do use it wisely”
Miko was sifting through some of the many submitted works from her employees at the publishing house, each of them awaiting for which she’d pick as the next bestseller.
Miko had been adamant about finishing the workload by the end of the day. Intel of a rival publishing house’s next launch has been leaked to her and she can’t afford to waste another second.
She promised you that she would make it worth your while if you just held tight through the next few days, and then she would give you her full undivided attention.
But you were getting antsy. You’ve been worked up these past few days as Miko’s promise hangs in the air. Thoughts of her touch, her tongue and that teasing smirk have been running rampant around your impatient mind. And to top it off she barely seems fazed, completely content with staying cooped up in the office for hours on end.
You know Miko isn’t one to back down on her word, but a little motivation can do wonders. You pop into her office to check up on her, leaning into her side as she tells you about these latest light novels. Miko knows something’s off. You just look too…innocent. You must be planning something.
“I applaud you for your patience this past week my love. I’m getting close to finishing, I’ll make sure to reward you accordingly”
“I’ll be waiting”, you say, and bend down closer to kiss her cheek and moan against it. You laugh as you walk away, barely believing you were able to get away with that. You hand grasps the edges of the handle, only for it to be pinned by your head against the door.
Your eyes widen as Miko begins pressing open-mouthed kisses against your jaw. She sighs, and the hot breath against your skin has you arching into her.
“Well look at you, all bark and no bite? You didn’t really think I’d let you get past that door after teasing me like that, did you?”
She all but drags you back and sits you against the table. Two fingers push down on your chest until your back meets the wood.
“I think it’s time to put you back in your place”
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin smut#yae miko#yae miko imagines#yae miko smut#yae miko x reader#yae miko x y/n#yae miko x you#yae smut#ei x reader#ei smut#raiden shogun smut#raiden x reader#ei x you#ei x y/n#💋
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Mamma mia, here I go again {pt7}
Summary: A summer of poor decisions leads you to having to face the consequences of your actions —and the men involved.
Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader
Warnings: heart break
Word count: 1022
Taglist: @ashy-kit @averagef1fansblog @barcelonaloverf1life @bradfordbantams @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @exotic-iris13 @goldsainz @iloveneteyam @jaypreshpresh @laura-naruto-fan1998 @monzamash @norrisleclercf1 @opheliaas-stuff @roseseraj @szobosz @topguncultleader @vellicora @ystrolllll
Part 7 of the Mamma Mia series
They really weren’t kidding when they said ‘let us woo you’. The next two weeks fly by in a blur of data streams, flights and more dates, each getting more elaborate as time goes on. Mark takes you out for crazy golf while in Singapore, a suggestion by Oscar and undoubtedly Lando, although you wonder whether they suggested the murder mystery themed one. Lewis spoils you with a hot air balloon ride to watch the sunrise when you’re in Suzuka, the sight leaving you breathless, and Kevin treats you to a picnic after a bike ride through the park. You love seeing their own personalities reflected in the activities they plan for you, but also in the way they show their affection for you: Mark takes care of you, driving you to and from the paddock, making sure you eat by bringing you lunch. Kevin and you managed to keep your promise to spend more time together; he will often just come hang out at the Mercedes hospitality and chat with the mechanics or with Mick while you get some last minute bits of work done. It’s nice to have him beside you, to have the weight of his hand on your thigh every so often just to let you know he is still there. And then there’s Lewis who is so observant and spoils you in different ways. You mention once how your sunglasses broke and the next thing you know a new pair sits atop your desk. He even gifted you monogrammed loungewear embroidered in his colours after he overheard you talking about how your travel clothes are just no longer comfortable. It’s a clear display of his wealth and not something you’re used to, but seeing him smile as you use his gifts has your heart skipping a beat. It quite literally feels as if you’re in a romance novel, but while those usually end in a happy ending, you’re having a hard time believing that that could be you. Because romance novels and relationships are usually between two people and not four. Because no matter how hard you try not to, you’re falling in love in a way that terrifies you. It breaks your heart to know you are once again hurting them, but what other options do you have? There is no way that this, that a relationship can work because that would mean having to choose and you can’t. You cannot choose between them nor can you allow yourself to live in the delusion that there is a possibility that you don’t have to. It’s impossible, the choice feels impossible, so you make the only one you can; you’d rather live with the heartbreak and the knowledge that you hurt them, than choose between Kevin, Lewis, and Mark. And so you do what you have always done: you very slowly begin to withdraw yourself, rebuilding the wall the three of them had painstakingly brought down over the past four weeks.
It all comes to a head after the race that Sunday in Japan. Your emotions are all over the place, flitting between happiness and pride at Mercedes’ performance and bagging some much needed points to hopefully be able to secure that second place in the constructor’s championship, and absolute dread at having to have this conversation with them. And so you find yourself outside the Mercedes motorhome, the three men sat in front of you.
“Now that the month is almost over I thought it best to have this conversation now,” you begin, looking down at your mug. Your stomach is in knots and for once it’s not the morning sickness that’s making you nauseous.
“I’m really sorry but I can’t do this. I- I don’t have feelings for you. For any of you. I’m sorry for stringing you along and getting your hopes up, I really am,” you continue, voice barely louder than a whisper. The silence that follows is deafening. You don’t dare to look up because you know once you see the look on their faces your resolve will crumble like a house of cards.
“Bullshit,” Kevin says, his frustrations clear in his voice. Your heart breaks at the ice in his tone, but keep your eyes on your mug while holding back tears.
“Kev-..” Mark tries to placate him, but to no avail.
“No, don’t you Kevin me. This is her M.O. God, you can’t even look at us while you tell us you feel nothing for any of us.”
“We did tell her it would be up to her,” Lewis adds.You look up at both him and Kevin through your eyelashes, watching them share a look you can’t decipher. You watch Kevin’s shoulders slump before looking back at you. Quickly you avert your eyes, trying to keep your face neutral.
“Fine,” Kevin sighs, the dejection and resignation in his voice cut deeper than any knife possibly ever could, “forget it. See you around the paddock I guess.” And with that the Danish driver leaves.
“I’m really sorry,” you whisper, throat thick with tears.
“So am I, sweetheart,” Mark says, pressing a kiss against your temple before getting up as well. Lewis gives your hand a squeeze before following the Australian into the paddock for the final round of interviews, leaving you behind with the remnants of your shattered heart.
You somehow manage to hold it together until you’re back in your hotel room, catching a ride with another colleague to avoid having to see Mark again. Throwing your bag on a chair, you make a beeline for the ensuite, turning on the shower while silent tears roll down your cheeks. Stripping out of your team gear, you step under the hot water, wrapping your arms around your chest as sobs wreck through you, afraid that you might fall apart even further if you don’t hold onto yourself. You know that this hell is your own doing but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less, doesn’t make the pain any less. Little do you know, the heartache that is already all consuming is about to become so, so much worse.
Maybe the secret fourth option was choose pain? I can already hear someone throw her phone against the wall. Love you @szobosz
Again, the biggest thank you to @curiousthyme for being my beta reader, love you so much ives
Please let me know what you think! Your comments, tags and likes mean the absolute world to me 💜
#f1 fanfic#kevin magnussen x reader#kevind magnussen x you#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton x you#mark webber x reader#mark webber x you#mamma mia fic
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