#breaks my heart!!!! knowing what's to come
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Was Any Of It True?
Pairing: badboy!Azriel x goodgirl!Reader
Summary: Modern/College AU! Az’s on-again-off-again girlfriend gives Azriel a proposition: make the new bookworm fall in love with him, then break her heart, in exchange for anything he wants. He agrees, but things get complicated when he falls for Reader for real.
Based on this request! 🩷
Warnings: angst, sexual language?, swearing, Azriel & friends being assholes
Word Count: 10.2k oh lord sorry besties I couldn’t shut my little brain off
“I'm telling you, Az, she's pissing me off. The professor loves her, and I saw that she got a 100 on the exam,” Claire was seething while she and Azriel lounged in his apartment, eating the pizza he'd ordered.
“Mhmm,” he mumbled around his pizza, only half listening. Claire was always complaining about something. “And what did you get?”
“98! He took two points off because I didn't answer thoroughly enough,” she scoffed. “God, I hate her. She's going to push me right off the top of the Dean's list.”
Azriel blinked. “I mean, you'll still be very near the top of the list.”
Claire groaned, throwing her napkin onto her paper plate angrily, “That's not good enough!”
He rolled his eyes and she glared at him. “Don't be an ass! This is a big deal to me.”
“Oh, I know it is. This girl is all you talk about.”
“Because I hate her. Maybe if she got laid, she’d be distracted enough to slip up once in a while,” she grumbled.
“Yeah, maybe,” Azriel said, pulling his laptop out of his backpack and setting it on the table, a sufficient signal that he didn’t want to talk about his girlfriend’s arch nemesis anymore.
No more than a week later, Azriel’s on-again-off-again girlfriend was off-again, and honestly, he was relieved. Claire’s obsession with being at the top of the academic food chain was bordering on insanity, and he was glad he didn’t have to hear about it anymore.
He was currently at a house party that Cassian had dragged him to, with a blonde girl that he couldn’t remember the name of sitting in his lap, one of her arms draped behind his neck, the other resting on his chest. She had been whispering in his ear all the things that she wanted to do to him, before Cassian interrupted, handing Azriel a shot with a grin.
Blondie scowled at Cassian, who just smirked back as the girl that Cass had been talking to earlier sidled up next to him, wrapping her arms around his middle.
Azriel knocked the shot back and handed the cup it had come in to the blonde girl. “Can you get me another one?”
She seemed annoyed, but took the cup from him anyway, striding into the kitchen.
“Sorry for interrupting,” Cassian said, settling on the couch next to him, before pulling the girl onto his lap.
Azriel rolled his eyes. “Like I give a shit.”
Cassian snickered as the blonde girl came back, draping herself in his lap again, handing him another shot. He drank it, just as Claire appeared before him, her arms crossed over her chest, and her brow furrowed.
“What do you want?” he asked, his voice husky.
“I have a proposition for you.”
He smirked, making a show of tightening his grip on the blonde girl’s waist. “No, thanks. Been there, done that.”
“Not that kind of proposition, you idiot. Can we talk privately? I think it’ll be worth your while,” she said, her lips turning up into a sultry smile.
“I don’t know, Claire, I’m pretty busy right now,” he said, turning his gaze to the blonde girl, squeezing her thigh. She sighed dreamily, leaning further into him.
Claire groaned. “Look, Az, I really need your help. Please?”
Azriel studied Claire, and he could see that it was true. She was wearing her most annoyed, don’t-fuck-with-me face, but her eyes were pleading. Sad.
He sighed, glancing apologetically at the girl in his lap before turning back to Claire. “Fine, we can talk.”
She led him into someone’s empty bedroom and shut the door behind her.
“If this is about that girl you’re obsessed with, so help me,” he said. She winced, and he threw his head back. “Unbelievable. Claire, I don’t want to hear about this anymore! I don’t care about your problems.”
“Just hear me out!”
He crossed his arms over his chest, and raised an eyebrow at her, waiting.
“She actually is threatening my spot on the Dean’s list now,” she said, looking close to tears.
He looked pointedly at her. “And?”
“And I was thinking about what I said earlier… about how if a really hot guy was interested in her, maybe she would stop caring about her grades so much,” she said, smiling at him now.
“And?” Azriel just wished she would get to the point.
Claire sighed, exasperated. “I need you to seduce her.”
Azriel barked out a laugh, leaning his shoulder against the nearest wall. “You’re kidding, right? Why would I do that?”
She stepped closer to him, trailing a finger along his chest, her touch feather-light through his black t-shirt. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, “Because I asked? Because I’ll give you anything you want,” she said, her voice dropping seductively.
He held her gaze, leaning down until their mouths were a breath away. Azriel heard her breath hitch.
Then he pulled away rapidly, and she blinked. “Sweetheart, you know I can fuck you anytime I want, right? That is not going to persuade me to help you.”
Her brow furrowed, her nose scrunching up. Oh, she was furious. Azriel's mouth turned up into his calculated half smile.
“What do you want, Az?” she huffed.
“Hmm,” he said, taking his time to think. Claire scowled. “I haven’t decided yet. But when I need to call in a favor of my own, you have to promise to do it. No matter what,” he drawled.
To her credit, she really looked like she was thinking it through, trying to think of another way to push this girl off the list. But finally, she sighed. “Deal.”
He pushed off the wall, walking towards the door. “Alright, so I just have to seduce the bookworm? Easy.”
Claire shook her head, her eyes still alight with her anger. “No, if I’m going to agree to any favor you could possibly want, you’re going to have to go further. You need to make her fall in love with you.”
Azriel bristled a bit, leaning against the door now. “I know I’m an asshole, but that seems too far, don’t you think?”
“No. If she’s going to be distracted enough that her grades will slip, you need to make it seem real,” she said, and then smiled as if she had a wicked thought.
“What?” Azriel asked.
“And then you break her heart, right before exams,” she said excitedly, her eyes burning with enthusiasm now. “You tell her, in front of everyone, that it was all fake.”
He rubbed at his bicep, a nervous tic that Claire picked up on immediately. “Jesus, Claire. I don’t want to ruin this girl’s life.”
She arched her brow. “Why not? She’s ruining mine.”
Azriel rolled his eyes and Claire pounced, “Any favor, Az. Any time, you can tell me to do whatever you want,” she smirked.
He groaned, pinching his nose. “Fine,” he ground out. “Where do I find her?”
Claire beamed. “Where else would a nerd be? The library, of course.”
---
You shifted in your seat, starting to feel sore after poring over your notes for hours. Maybe you should go for a walk. Maybe. But, you still had so much to do…
Groaning, you crossed your arms on the table, laying your head down on top of them. Just a minute, you just needed a tiny break --
“Studying always makes me feel like that, too,” said a low, male voice.
You lifted your head, bewildered, and nearly choked on your own spit. The guy who was for some reason deigning to talk to you was… well, what other way was there to say it? He was drop-dead gorgeous.
His face was stoic as he sauntered up to your table, his jet black hair was just a tad unruly, his hazel eyes burning into yours. But it was his body that made the breath completely escape your lungs. He was dressed in all black, his t-shirt hugging his chest and his biceps, showing off his every muscle, and there were swirling black tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves.
All you could do was stare as he took the seat across from you, leaning back with his arms crossed like the two of you did this every day.
“What class is that for?” he asked, nodding to the textbook open in front of you, the dozens of papers scattered around you.
“Organic Chemistry,” you said, trying to sound like you were normal and not completely surprised by this handsome stranger finding you in your favorite quiet corner of the library.
He let out a low whistle, “Damn, you are smart.”
“What, did someone tell you I was?” you asked.
“No, I just figured when I saw all the --” he gestured to your cluttered workspace, “homework stuff.”
You arched an eyebrow. “Homework stuff?”
His mouth turned up the slightest bit, holding up his hands like he was surrendering. “You caught me. I’m not much of an academic.”
“Then what are you doing here?” you asked curiously.
“Now, that is an excellent question,” he said, and really did seem like he was questioning it. “Girls? Parties? Though I could get girls anywhere and I don't particularly enjoy parties.”
You nodded. “Ah,” you said. “Got it.”
He braced his arms on the table, leaning forward. “I take it you’re not into that kinda thing?”
A dry laugh escaped from your throat, “Definitely not. I’m really only here for the--” you mimicked his gesture from earlier, “homework stuff.”
He barked out a laugh, his stoic face completely transforming for the briefest of moments. You couldn’t help but stare. “You’re telling me all you do is study? A beautiful girl like you? Please tell me you’ve been to at least one party,” he said, looking at you incredulously.
You blushed. “No, I haven’t been to any.”
You braced yourself for impact, for the teasing or insults to come, but he just smiled softly. “You wanna go to one with me tonight?”
Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. “You don’t even know my name.”
The side of his mouth quirked up into a smile, his eyes dancing with amusement. “What's your name?”
Rolling your eyes, you told him.
“Nice to meet you. I'm Azriel.” He raised his eyebrows, “So? Party?”
“I thought you just said you don't like parties!”
“True, but I do love the thought of corrupting a sweet, innocent bookworm,” he smirked.
“No, thanks.” You couldn't imagine yourself going to a house party, especially not with a stranger.
Azriel's cool-guy demeanor seemed to drop the slightest bit. “Why not?”
You looked at him pointedly. “I don't know you. And I have no interest in being corrupted. Why do you want me to come to this party so badly anyway?”
He shrugged casually. “I like you.”
“You don't know me!”
“See, that, right there,” he snapped his fingers and pointed at you. “You're funny. Smart, beautiful. What's not to like?”
You forced yourself to hold his gaze, even as a blush rose to your cheeks. “I'm not going to a party with someone I don't know. They make true crime documentaries about that sort of thing.”
He seemed to contemplate that for a moment. “Okay, you make a fair point. What do you want to do then?”
“What do you mean?”
“You can pick our first date, since you didn't like my idea.”
“What date?” You blanched.
He arched an eyebrow. “Our first date? Weren't you listening?”
You studied him for a moment. For the life of you, you could not figure out what this guy's angle was.
As if reading your mind, he said softly, “Look, I just saw you and thought you were really pretty, and that it looked like you could use a break from studying. That's it,” he held his hands up again. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. If you want me to go, I'll go.”
For a beat longer, you watched him, his body language, his ridiculously pretty face. What was the harm, really? You sighed, tore off a scrap of paper from your notebook, scribbled out your number, then handed it to him. “I need to study. If you text me later, I'll let you know where we're going on the first date.”
His face broke out into what might have been the first genuine smile you'd seen from him. He took the paper from you, his fingers brushing against yours.
“Can't wait.”
You were half expecting to never hear from Azriel again. But just a few hours later, as you were eating dinner in your apartment, your phone chimed with a text.
Az: Done studying yet?
It was an effort to bite down your smile.
You: Taking a break for dinner.
It was less than a minute before he responded.
Az: Dinner? Is that what our first date is going to be?
You didn’t try to hide your smile this time.
You: A little cliche, don’t you think?
Az: Oh, absolutely. So… what are we doing?
You: Meet at the tennis courts at 7 tomorrow?
Az: We’re playing tennis?
You: No, but I’m not giving you my address. And I’m not giving away the surprise.
Az: So smart. So mysterious. I’m swooning.
You: Shut up.
Az: See you tomorrow ;)
You tossed your phone to the side, forcing yourself to focus back on your schoolwork.
The following day you parked your car by the empty tennis courts on campus just before 7. It was early spring; the weather finally started to warm up enough to not be too chilly in the evening. Still, you rubbed your arms nervously. You were starting to regret this. You didn’t know this guy at all. What if it went horribly wrong?
Before you could contemplate bailing, a familiar figure rode up on a jet black motorcycle. Of course this guy had a motorcycle. You couldn't see his face underneath the helmet, but you would already recognize those tattooed arms anywhere.
He parked his bike, smoothly sliding off it and taking his helmet off before sauntering over to you. “Hey, beautiful.”
You rolled your eyes, sure that he had said that to a million girls on a million dates before.
“What? Don’t do that,” he said softly, his smile softening and his gaze raking down your body. “You are beautiful.”
“Thank you,” you said quietly, giving in.
“So,” he said, towering over you. “What’s the plan?”
You smiled. “How’s your mini golf game?”
He raised an eyebrow, looking a little skeptical. “Mini golf? That’s what you’re choosing?”
“Yes, it is. Do you have something to say about that?” you teased.
His eyes sparked at the tone in your voice. “Nope. Nothing at all.” He nodded to his motorcycle. “You wanna hop on the bike?”
You looked pointedly at him and he laughed. “Didn’t think so,” he gestured to your car. “Lead the way.”
Your nerves started to dim as the two of you fell into a rhythm going through the course. The two of you were just talking and laughing like it was normal. It was… fun, actually.
“Shit,” Azriel muttered as he overshot the hole. Again.
You laughed and his eyes flicked over to you, lingering a bit. “You’re good at this, bookworm,” he said as he took another shot, sinking it into the hole this time. You watched, leaning against your putter, having finished that hole two shots ago.
Shrugging, you said, “I used to go with my family a lot.”
He placed his hand on the small of your back as you walked to the next hole. You cleared your throat, focusing on your steps, on your breathing, on anything but how it felt to have him touch you so casually. “What about you?”
“What about me?” he asked as you dropped your ball onto the green.
You took your shot before you answered. The ball landed just shy of the hole. “What’s your family like?”
“My family…” he trailed off, clearing his throat, setting up his shot. He paused to look at you for a moment before he swung. “It’s complicated.”
He hit the ball and it stopped right next to yours.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” you said, as the two of you walked further down the hole.
“No, you didn’t. It’s just… I don’t really talk about them with anybody.”
You nodded, not sure where to go from here.
Azriel smiled reassuringly, nudging you lightly with his shoulder. “Stop worrying.”
“I’m not worrying,” you claimed, your voice an octave too high.
“You are. I can tell.”
You bit your lip to hide your smile as you sunk your ball into the hole.
“I think I’m going to need some pointers from you on the next hole,” he grumbled.
“I guess I could help you out,” you laughed.
So, when you got to the next hole, the last hole, he stepped so close that your bodies were nearly touching. You tried to control your breathing.
“You’re gonna help me out?” he murmured, his eyes flashing down to your lips for a moment.
“Okay,” you breathed.
He stepped behind you, his body pressed against your back, wrapping his arms around you, his hands covering yours on the club.
“How is this going to help you, exactly?” you asked, your voice slightly unsteady.
His lips brushed your ear as he said, “Oh, trust me, it’s helping.”
You couldn’t say anything. Could hardly breathe.
“What do you think I’m doing wrong?” He murmured.
You swallowed. “You’re hitting it too hard. Not exactly rocket science.”
“Mmm. That makes sense. I do tend to go… hard.”
That finally had you coming to your senses. You stepped out of his grasp, turning back to glare at him when you were a safe distance away.
The side of his mouth turned up into a smile. “Sorry. I couldn't help myself.”
You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at him again. “Just take your shot.”
He smirked at you for a moment, before he swung, and the ball went right into the hole.
He turned to you, his eyes wide. You laughed and he hugged you, picking you up and spinning you around.
You let out an involuntary squeal of surprise, and he laughed, gazing into your eyes as he set you back on the ground. “Thanks for the help.”
“I think you’ve been playing me this whole time,” you joked.
His smile fell a little, his eyes sobering.
“What’s wrong?” you asked. When he just stared at you, his expression unreadable, you added, “Azriel, I was joking.”
He blinked and then his natural, stoic expression was back as he took a step closer to you. “Right. I think you’re just a good teacher.”
You just looked at him, trying to decipher the changes in his mood, who he really was underneath the gruff exterior.
He smiled faintly, stepping even closer. “What are you thinking about?”
You had to crane your neck to look him in the eye now. “I'm trying to figure out what you're thinking about.”
Azriel's smile turned into a smirk. “I'm thinking… that I really want to kiss you. But I don't want to scare you away.”
Heat flooded your face and his smile turned softer as he cupped your cheek gently with a rough hand. “Would it scare you away?” He murmured.
“I -- don't know,” you said honestly.
His hazel eyes dipped to your lips and stayed there. “I think I'm gonna have to take the risk,” he said, his voice low, husky.
“I think so, too,” you breathed.
His free hand slinked around your waist, gently pulling your body into his. Your heart thundered in your chest as he leaned down, slowly bringing his lips to yours. He seemed to give you a moment to process, and you felt him smile against your mouth when you started to kiss him back, your fingers curling around his bicep, his shoulder.
You were breathless by the time he pulled away, and as the two of you drove back to the tennis courts, you couldn't help but hope that it would happen again by the end of the night.
When you parked your car near his motorcycle in the abandoned lot, he lingered, his gaze holding yours, dropping to your mouth again.
He shot you a crooked smile. “Aren't you gonna walk me to my bike?”
Rolling your eyes playfully, you got out of the car, walking over to the motorcycle and settling against the fence near it, crossing your arms over your chest. “Happy now?” You asked.
Slowly, he sauntered over to you, his eyes twinkling under the stars. He raised his arm, twining his fingers in the chain link fence above your head, leaning his body towards you, but not quite touching. He gazed down at you, still sporting that half smile. “Very happy,” he murmured.
Your breath hitched and when his smile widened, you knew he heard it.
He held your gaze as he leaned down, bringing his mouth to yours again. You let yourself fall deeper into the kiss this time, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into you.
When he finally pulled away, he was grinning. “Want to go for a ride before you head home?” He said, nodding to his motorcycle.
You had stepped far enough out of your comfort zone for today. “Maybe next time.”
He raised his eyebrows in amusement. “So you're giving me a next time?”
Damn. You blushed. “I said maybe.”
“Uh huh, sure,” he said, leaning in again so his lips were barely an inch from yours. “You can't wait to see me again,” he whispered.
You shoved him away lightly and he chuckled, backing up towards his bike, but keeping his eyes on you. “Until next time, then. Have a good night, bookworm.” He winked before putting his helmet on and speeding away.
A few weeks, a few dates, and several kisses later, you couldn't deny that Azriel was on your mind quite a bit.
You had never thought that someone like him would be interested in someone like you, but he seemed to prove time and time again that he did indeed like you. He texted you flirty little things every day, making you blush in class. He asked about your day, and seemed to genuinely be listening, and he would do pretty much anything you wanted on your dates. Last week, the two of you had gone to a local bookstore and he had watched you browse, a small smile on his face. He ended up picking out a book he wanted you to read and you did the same for him. He had been sending you daily updates on his progress through the book. Slowly, you were starting to let your walls down, despite yourself.
So, when he asked you to finally go to a party with him, to meet his friends, you accepted. You still felt cautious: partying had never been something that you were remotely interested in, but you trusted him.
---
Azriel knew he had to tread this next part carefully. Things had been going well with you. He let you take control of your time together so you would be comfortable, and honestly, he was actually having a really good time getting to know you and seeing where you would take him next.
And when you kissed him… God. It was always a struggle to keep his hands on your waist, to stay PG. He wished he could explore things further with you in that regard, but he wouldn't let himself go there. Not when your broken heart was the finish line.
He rarely let himself think about it -- the deal that he had made with Claire. Being with you felt so natural that he usually forgot he was supposed to be acting. That he was supposed to be leading you to Claire’s revenge.
He had convinced you to come to a party, upon Claire's request so she could see the progress he had made with you. You had said yes, he assumed because you trusted him enough now. The thought made his stomach roll. He was really starting to hate himself for getting mixed up in this.
Azriel acted differently around you than he did around the rest of the general population. At a young age he had learned to keep quiet, to not show a single emotion on his pretty face, to be tough, or be punished.
With you… he couldn't help but smile. Couldn't stop the laughs that he usually stomped down for the rest of the world.
So, having his two worlds collide at this party…he didn't know exactly how to navigate it. Deep down, it made his heart swell that you trusted him enough to help you navigate something so far out of your comfort zone. But if his friends saw the way he acted around you, he would never hear the end of it.
This would be a mess.
If Azriel wasn't leaning against his motorcycle when you exited your apartment building, he may have fallen over. You were wearing skintight jeans and a black tank top that showed more cleavage than he ever imagined he'd see from you. His fingers flexed on his biceps. He wanted to pull you back into your apartment and spend an hour peeling those clothes away inch by inch.
He blinked the lust away, trying to maintain his stoic expression, but failed, as he always did with you. He smiled at you and you smiled back.
He could tell by the way you carried yourself as you neared him that you were nervous. “Hey, beautiful,” he drawled his usual greeting as you wrapped your arms around his waist in your usual greeting.
“Hi,” you said, a little sheepishly. His eyes must have lingered on your curves a little too long because your eyes widened a bit, and you bit your lip nervously as you pulled away from him. He nearly groaned. “Is it too much? Do I look stupid?”
Azriel placed his hands on your shoulders gently, dipping his head to look you in the eyes. “You look amazing. Seriously.”
You blushed and murmured, “Thank you.”
He had to turn away, to grab your helmet, so you wouldn't see how much you affected him. He fucking loved it when he made you blush like that.
Azriel turned back to you, holding up the helmet, his eyebrows raising with amusement. “You ready to join the dark side, bookworm?”
You sighed, shifting on your feet.
“It'll be okay,” he said softly. “I got you.”
You nodded, seeming to resolve yourself, and reached for the helmet with slightly shaking hands.
He helped you make sure it was on correctly, his fingers brushing your chin, your neck. He bit back a smile as you shivered.
Azriel held your hand as you got settled on the back of the bike, showing you where to put your feet, and how to shift your weight with him.
When you seemed at least somewhat comfortable, he slid his helmet on, smoothly setting onto the motorcycle. You wrapped your arms around his middle, pressing your chest into his back. You were already holding him like your life depended on it, and he beamed freely underneath the helmet.
“Hold on tight,” he shot back at you, before he revved the engine, taking off much more gently than he normally would.
He tried not to think about the feel of you pressed into him, how tightly you were holding on. It didn't work. He wanted to drive you everywhere.
He couldn't resist reaching back to briefly squeeze your thigh at a red light. “How are you doing?”
“Good,” you said. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard a smile in your voice.
Too soon in Azriel's opinion, they had made it to the party. He parked, offering you his hand to help you get down.
When he pulled the helmet off your head, he was pleased to see that you were indeed smiling.
“Have fun?” He smirked.
“I did, actually,” you said, sounding a little breathless.
“Whenever you need a ride, you just let me know,” he winked.
You laughed, glancing behind him at the house.
He took your hand in his, squeezing reassuringly. You seemed to relax a bit. “We can leave whenever you want, okay?”
Taking a deep breath, you nodded and smiled nervously up at him.
You were doing this for him, he realized. Because he had asked you to. His heart constricted, guilt churning in his gut again as he led you inside, your hand squeezing his tightly.
His shoulders tightened as he led you through the crowd, making sure you were tucked in close to him.
“You want a drink?” he asked, as you made your way to the kitchen.
“Sure,” you said.
He rifled through what was on the sticky counter, trying to find something not disgusting for you to drink, making sure you stayed close to him.
Finally handing you a cup, he put your hand on the small of your back, guiding you to a corner of the living room that wasn’t yet very crowded. He took a seat on the couch and you settled in next to him, tucked closely into his side.
You smiled, leaning your shoulder into his. “Is this really it?” You asked skeptically. “You just sit here and drink around a bunch of drunk idiots?”
He laughed before he could stop himself. “I mean, yeah, that’s pretty much it,” he said, dipping his head to say in your ear. “Or we could dance. Or make out,” he smiled against your ear.
You blushed and he laughed again, kissing your temple.
Azriel wrapped an arm around your shoulders as Cassian and Rhys showed up, grinning at you, their eyebrows raised. Azriel fought the urge to roll his eyes. They had seen him laughing with you, kissing you, he knew. He had nearly forgotten where he was, why he was here with you. He loved them, but he wasn’t sure what they would say to you about him. They didn’t know about his arrangement with Claire, and he had been keeping details about his relationship with you as vague as possible.
“So you’re the one Az has been spending all his time with,” Cassian grinned.
You smiled sheepishly, leaning further into Azriel. “I guess.”
Azriel nodded to his friends. “This is Cassian and Rhysand. They’ve been my best friends since we were kids.”
He could tell you were intrigued by that. He still hadn’t told you anything about his childhood.
Before you could ask any questions, Claire showed up next to Azriel’s friends, her expression the very picture of friendship. It unsettled him so much that he held you closer to him, so you were practically on his lap.
“Hi Claire,” you smiled, and his heart sank. You really had no idea how Claire felt about you.
Claire smiled back. “Hey. I never expected to see you here.”
“I’m trying new things,” you said, smiling lightly at Azriel.
He couldn’t take it, having you so close to Claire, seeing that trust you had in him when you looked at him. He cleared his throat, standing up and offering you his hand. You took it, smiling politely at Claire and his friends as he led you through the house, out to the backyard.
“Is everything okay?” You asked, looking up at him curiously as he leaned his back against the side of the house.
“Yeah,” he said, unable to stop the smile that rose to his face as you gazed at him with your big doe eyes. He tugged you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I just wanted you to myself for a minute.”
“Oh yeah?” you flushed, and before he could stop himself, he kissed your cheeks, feeling the heat against his lips before his lips met yours in a slow, sensual kiss.
He was still kissing you when he heard Cassian snickering close by. “Oh shit, he’s whipped.”
Azriel rolled his eyes as he pulled away from you, but kept his hold on your waist. “How am I whipped?”
Cassian’s eyes gleamed with mischief and Azriel’s heart started to pound. “Sneaking out here on your own. You’re usually content to stay on the couch to make out with your girl of the week.”
Your body tensed in his arms and Azriel groaned internally, glaring at Cassian, who smirked. “Oh, she didn’t know? My bad, Az.”
Azriel’s expression was enough to send Cassian back inside.
Your brow furrowed as you stepped back, out of his reach. “Girl of the week?”
He winced. “He’s being dramatic.”
You raised your eyebrows, glaring at him, crossing your arms over your chest.
It was kind of adorable, but Azriel reigned in that comment. He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, look. I told you when we met that I go to parties and meet girls there. But things are different now,” he said, taking a step closer to you. And it was true. Things were different. You had been the one haunting his thoughts since that first date. He had barely looked at anyone else since.
After a moment, you sighed, and he knew you wouldn’t resist when he wrapped his arms back around you.
“Cassian’s an idiot,” he murmured, his focus back on your lips that he was dying to kiss again.
“So I’m not the girl of the week?” you said quietly, your eyes on his lips now.
He smiled. “We’ve been seeing each other for several weeks, haven’t we?”
You nodded, biting your lip, before you stood up on your tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his lips. Azriel was surprised by his own relief. “Are we going back inside?” you asked.
“Not if you don’t want to,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist again.
Pursing your lips in thought, you said, “Mmm. Let’s go back in.”
“Yeah?” he said, surprised.
You smiled up at him, resting your chin on his chest. His heart melted. “I’m trying to be brave.”
He kissed your forehead, smiling faintly. “I’m proud of you, bookworm.”
You beamed, your whole face lighting up.
Azriel led you inside, his hand on the small of your back, trying to manage the swell of emotions in his chest. He didn’t have the time to process them right now.
The two of you mingled throughout the party for a few hours, and you even went so far as to dance with him for a bit, your body pressed against his, your hips swaying to the beat of the pounding music. He could hardly believe it, the way you let loose with him.
He stopped in the bathroom before the two of you left. He wasn’t gone for more than a few minutes, but when he returned, he spotted you near the kitchen, backing away from a guy who was clearly very drunk and very horny. Azriel saw red.
Before he could take a second to think, Azriel was upon the bastard, punching him in the jaw.
He heard you yelp. The asshole staggered back, swearing, his hand cradling his jaw. Azriel barely spared him a glance, his hands gently holding either side of your face, his gaze raking your body, searching for any sign that he had touched you.
Your eyes were wide, your breathing labored, but you seemed physically fine. “Are you okay?” he asked.
You nodded, your eyes still frantic.
He wrapped his arm around your shoulders as he led you outside. Claire caught his eye on the way out, hers shining with delight. He scowled at her.
When you made it outside, he hugged you to his chest. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
You snorted. “You were gone for a few minutes. It’s not your fault that men are gross.”
“Are you okay, really?” He asked, pulling back to look you in the eye.
“I’m okay,” you said quietly.
He held you close to him, gazing at you for another moment before you smiled faintly. “You really didn’t need to punch him, you know.”
He winced slightly, remembering the yelp you let out when he threw that punch. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” you said, rising on your tiptoes to kiss him.
Azriel held you until his heart rate slowed down, until his body was convinced that you were okay.
Later, after he had dropped you off at your apartment, Azriel stayed awake, tossing and turning, so many images from that night racing through his mind.
The way his heart constricted every time you smiled at him, the horror he felt at seeing Claire play nice, the terror and rage that flowed through his entire body when he saw that creep bothering you…
Azriel knew then, that he had real feelings for you. Shit.
---
“C’mon, baby, you’ve been studying for ages already,” Azriel murmured, standing behind you as you sat at your desk in your apartment, his arms draped around your chest, his lips trailing down your neck.
Your toes curled, heat running right through you. You wanted to give in. You really did. But…
You sighed. “I’m sorry, Az. I have this big exam on Tuesday. And finals are only a few weeks away.”
For some reason, that comment made his entire body stiffen. “Oh, yeah. Finals.”
You snorted. “Don’t tell me you forgot about finals.”
“No, I just… they’re soon.” His voice wavered a bit as he stood up fully. You twisted in your seat to look up at him. His brow was furrowed, his eyes swimming with anxiety.
“What’s wrong?” You asked, reaching up and cupping his cheek with your hand. “Do you need me to help you study?” He had never seemed to care about his grades before.
He leaned into your touch for a moment, shooting you a forced smile. “No, it’s okay. I’ll be fine. I should go, and let you study.” He stooped down to press a quick kiss to your lips. “I won’t distract you anymore today.”
Before you could even respond, he was out the door.
You turned back to your notes, but couldn’t digest any of the information. That was… weird.
Azriel and you had been dating for months now. Though neither of you had ever put a label on it, you both knew you were exclusive.
In the privacy of your own mind, you secretly loved that he acted so differently around you than he did out and about on campus. You felt like you got a different version of him that was saved especially for you. It made your heart swell, all the little things he did for you each day.
You were also willing to admit, to yourself only, that you were absolutely in love with him. You had known for weeks now, and had been debating whether or not you should tell him.
He had been the one that made you step out of your comfort zone, to try new things, to be brave.
So, soon. You would tell him soon.
---
Azriel had to get out of the deal. Now.
He remembered the exact moment that he realized he was in love with you. It was a random afternoon, the two of you were watching TV at his apartment. He was laying on the couch, you were laying on top of him, your legs intertwined with his, your head on his chest. He was absentmindedly running his fingers through your hair while you giggled about something that happened on the show.
And he had the thought. I want my whole life to look like this.
And he knew. He loved you.
This had scared him, obviously, on multiple levels. He had never loved anyone before, never knew what that looked like. Yet somehow, he knew without a doubt that it was true.
And then, of course, there was the deal he had made with the devil.
He had known early on that he would have to get out of the deal. He had just been putting it off, hoping that Claire’s insanity would die down throughout the semester.
But now his time was up.
He prayed to whoever might be listening that Claire would listen to reason. That she would call it off. He couldn’t bear the thought of hurting you. He wouldn’t do it.
Claire smirked as she opened the door. “I’ve been wondering when you would show up. It’s been a long time, Az,” she purred.
Azriel stalked into her apartment, barely sparing her a glance. “The deal’s off, Claire.”
She cocked her head to the side, amused. “Oh? Why is that?”
“Because it’s insane,” he growled. “You were insane for coming up with it, and I was insane for agreeing to it. I’m done.”
Slowly, her lips curled up into a lethal smile. “You fell for her.”
Azriel blinked.
Claire cackled. “Oh, this is rich. You actually fell for the bookworm? I never thought I’d see the day. No wonder you haven’t been crawling into my bed.”
He scowled. “The deal’s off,” he repeated in the tone he used to scare people away.
She really looked at him then, her eyes bearing into his. After a moment, she finally said, “Okay.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Okay? Just like that?”
Claire shrugged. “You were right. It was an insane plan. And it didn’t even work,” she said bitterly. “You suck at your job. She’ll still be on the top of the Dean’s list, even after all your lovey-dovey shit.”
A swell of pride ran through him at the thought of your name at the top of that list.
“Alright,” he said, his brow furrowed, trying to figure out if there was some kind of angle here. But, there didn’t seem to be one.
He left quickly, his heart and mind feeling lighter. The guilt of how the two of you started would always be there, he knew. But now when he looked into the future, it wasn’t a hazy blur of nothingness that he saw. It was you.
---
The week before finals, there were parties everywhere. So you heard.
You had gone to a few more with Az over the past few months. It still wasn’t exactly your thing, but you didn’t mind going, especially with Azriel being so attentive to you every time you did.
Azriel didn’t seem particularly interested in going to this one, but his friends had been complaining that they never saw him anymore, so he agreed to go. And you had agreed to go with him, if only to take a break from your near constant studying these days.
You followed him through the crowd, his hand clasping yours, as always. Drinks in hand, you made your way to the outskirts of a group of people who were dancing and you joined them, Azriel pulling you in close to him, moving against you.
A laugh burst from you, and Azriel grinned, leaning down to kiss you.
You were so happy, you thought. So happy in that moment with him. You knew people watched you, as they usually did when Azriel was like this with you. You didn’t care.
When he pulled back from the kiss, he gazed down at you, his eyes swimming with affection.
“I love you,” you said before you could stop it.
His eyes sobered, and he pulled you in even closer, so your bodies were flush together. He leaned his forehead against yours, and in a crowd of people, Azriel said, a soft smile on his face, “I love you, too.”
Your heart leaped and you grinned, threading your fingers in his hair and bringing his lips to yours.
Suddenly, the music stopped, and from the TV came a voice. Azriel’s voice.
Everyone turned to the sound, curiously, watching. The video was jumpy, filming the floor, like it was filmed from someone’s pocket.
Azriel tensed, his arms still around you. “Fuck,” he said. “We need to go.”
Utterly confused, you didn’t argue as he pulled you through the crowd. But you stopped dead in your tracks when you heard video Azriel say, “Sweetheart, you know I can fuck you anytime I want, right? That is not going to persuade me to help you.”
Your blood ran cold, shock jolting from your heart down to your toes. Azriel was tugging on your arm, but you didn’t budge as you heard Claire’s voice next.
Claire. He had been talking to Claire. What did he mean, that he could fuck her whenever he wanted? You hadn’t even known that they knew each other. When was this filmed?
“Baby, please, I’ll explain everything, but we need to go,” Azriel was saying, sounding frantic.
You wrenched your arm from his grasp, weaving through the still crowd, moving toward the TV. You heard him swear, calling your name behind you, but you kept moving.
They were saying something about a deal, about him owing her a favor. You couldn’t make sense of it, not until you heard video Azriel say, “Alright, so I just have to seduce the bookworm? Easy.”
Video Claire responded, “No, if I’m going to agree to any favor you could possibly want, you’re going to have to go further. You need to make her fall in love with you.”
It was then that you noticed Claire, next to the TV, her eyes locked on you, smirking.
You couldn’t breathe, your legs were going to give out --
It was all fake. All of it.
Azriel caught up to you then, picking you up, slinging you over his shoulder. You didn’t protest, the shock setting in. You had to get out of there, even if it was him that carried you out.
When he made it outside, you pounded on his back with your fists. “Put me down, you asshole!”
“Sorry,” Azriel said, wincing as he gently set you on your feet. “You looked like you were going to pass out.”
“Like you even care,” you spat, storming away from him.
“Of course I care. Please, just give me a minute to explain,” he pleaded, following you.
“Explain what?” You stopped abruptly, spinning around to face him. “That you played me for a fool? Made me fall in love with you as a sick joke? Well, congratulations, it worked,” you said, pouring every ounce of venom that you could muster into your voice. You turned back around and continued walking as tears started pricking your eyes. You refused to let him see you cry.
“It may have started out that way, but it’s not like that anymore. From the first date, I had feelings for you. I love you. You have to believe that,” he said, right on your heels.
You knew he could catch up with you easily if he wanted to. He was hanging back, trying to give you your space. That pissed you off even more. “How could I possibly believe that?”
“Because you feel it, I know you do,” he said, finally wrapping his fingers around your wrist.
You tugged your hand free, but stopped walking, needing to catch your breath. You faced him. “What was the point?” You asked quietly. “Why make the deal?”
It didn’t matter. But you had to know.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Claire and I used to date. When you transferred, you pushed her off the top spot of the Dean’s list. She hated you for it. She said she would give me any favor I wanted if I made you fall for me… to distract you from school.”
You were so surprised that the tears you had been holding in started to fall. You angrily swatted them away.
Azriel continued, “I said no at first, but she was persistent, and…” he took a deep breath, darting his eyes away from you for a moment. They were shining with unshed tears. “I have no excuse. I agreed to it. I’m an asshole. But you made me want to be different.”
“Was any of it true?” You heard yourself saying, your voice breaking.
He lifted his hand, like he was about to reach for yours, then let it drop, thinking better of it. “It was all true. From our first date, you were breaking down my walls, making me smile, making me laugh.” He smiled sadly. “I fell for you. I love you,” he said, and now a lone tear did slide down his cheek. “I called it off with Claire ages ago. I told her I was out, and she agreed. I… I didn’t know she filmed it.”
You wanted to believe him, that he really did love you. But… “Even if you do love me, that doesn’t change what you did,” you said in a small voice.
Azriel sniffed, wiping the tears off his face. “I know. I am so, so sorry.”
Shaking your head, backing away from him, you choked out, “I don’t -- I can’t. I can’t do this right now.”
He took a step toward you, his eyes pleading. “Please. Please don’t go.”
Turning your back to him, you walked away, barely registering the pavement beneath your feet, the direction you were going.
You knew he had followed you home, not letting you walk alone at night. You watched his form retreat after you locked yourself inside your apartment with trembling hands.
Azriel called your name, but you kept walking.
You went to bed, not even bothering to change. Laying on your back, watching your ceiling fan spin around and around, you tried to identify all that you were feeling: shame, humiliation, sorrow. Fury.
Replaying all that had happened between you, all the times he was probably laughing at you with his friends behind his back about you. You felt nauseous.
How could he do this? How could he have played you for so long?
You woke up to several missed calls and texts from Azriel, all sent hours apart. It seemed that he didn’t get any sleep at all.
What the hell were you supposed to do now?
I am so sorry. I’m the worst person in the world. I know that.
I know what you’re thinking right now. I know that you’re going over it all in your head. But, it was real, baby. It was all real. I swear it was. I love you so much.
I’m hoping you’re getting some sleep. Can I see you today?
Groaning, you tossed your phone to the side, and took a long shower. By the time you got out, someone was knocking on your door.
You quickly dressed in some old pajamas and called through the door, “Go away, Az.”
“Well, at least you’re alive,” you heard him say. “Can I please come in? Two minutes?”
You threw the door open, furious. “No, you cannot come in. You humiliated me. You used me. You had your fun. What else could you possibly want?”
Azriel was standing on the threshold, his hands in his pockets nervously, his facial expression looked like you had just slapped him. “I want to apologize! I want to make things better, that’s what I want.”
Biting your lip to keep from crying, you said quietly, “Go away.”
His face fell. “I love you.”
Shaking your head, you said, “You don’t.”
He took a step forward, wedging his foot on the door jam so you couldn’t close it on him. “I do,” he said, his eyes pleading, baring into yours. “You know that I do. You know I’ve never let anybody else see the real me. Nobody but you.”
Tears spilled onto your cheeks then, and he wiped them away gently. Despite everything, you couldn’t back away. “It doesn’t matter,” you croaked. “You only went out with me so you could help her ruin my life.”
Azriel opened his mouth, as if to reply, but then shut it.
You laughed humorlessly. “See? Even you don’t have a comeback.”
His eyes softened, his rough fingers still absentmindedly stroking your cheeks. “Please,” he said again. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not enough,” you whispered, your heart breaking all over again as you looked up at him, at the pain in his eyes.
“How do I fix it?” He whispered back, tears sliding freely down his cheeks now.
“I don’t know,” you said, stepping back out of his grasp. “Please, Az. I just -- I need to be alone right now.”
He nodded, drawing his arm across his face to wipe the tears away. “Okay. Okay, I’ll umm -- I’ll see you later?”
You didn’t know how to answer that, didn’t know if you would see him again at all. He took a step back, into the hallway.
Especially knowing where that awful bet had originated, you refused to let Azriel and Claire get in your head for finals. You buckled down, spending entire days at the library studying, writing papers, finishing projects.
Without another word, you shut the door.
It was helpful, actually. You didn’t allow yourself to think about him, about all the memories you had that had become so tainted and confusing.
By the end of the semester, you had maintained all your A’s, passing every final with flying colors. And thus, secured the very top spot of the Dean’s list.
Azriel had been texting and calling every day. You left them all unanswered.
You hadn’t yet had time to think, to process through the hurt.
A new text chimed as you were packing up your car to head home for the summer.
Saw the list. Nicely done, bookworm. I know it doesn’t matter, but I really am proud of you. Looks like all that hard work paid off ❤️
Despite everything, there was a swell of emotion in your chest at his words. God, why did everything have to be so awful?
Later, you were hefting your last box into your trunk when you heard the distinct sound of a motorcycle slowing down behind you. Your heart raced. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to see him again or not.
Slowly, you turned around to see Azriel sliding off the bike, his helmet tucked under his arm. “Hey, beautiful,” he said, somewhat tentatively.
“Hi,” you said softly.
He nodded to your car, his expression grave. “You’re leaving?”
“Back home for the summer,” you said, unable to take your eyes off him. He looked tired. And sad.
A moment passed silently, the two of you just looking at each other, pain hanging in the air between you.
“I miss you,” he said quietly.
You sighed. Willed yourself to be brave. “I miss you, too,” you admitted.
Something like hope gleamed in his eyes. “I love you,” he murmured.
“I --” you started, and couldn’t bear it. “I need time.”
He looked crestfallen, like you had just punched him in the gut, but he nodded. “The summer?”
You swallowed. “Okay,” you said. “Okay. I get the summer, and I’ll find you in the fall. We’ll talk then.”
“Thank you,” he said, quietly. “Thank you for… for that. For talking to me now,” he winced. “I know I don’t deserve it.”
“No, you don’t,” you said, but there was no malice in it. You were too tired. “I get the summer, Az. Don’t contact me until school starts.”
He looked like he wanted to argue, but agreed. “Okay. I’ll see you in September,” he said, backing up towards his bike. “Have a good summer, bookworm,” he added with the slightest of smiles, before he slid on his helmet and drove away.
---
You spent most of the summer moping around, reading books, and trying to sort through everything that happened, all the feelings you had.
For three months, you sifted through every moment that Azriel and you had shared together, picking them apart, deciphering every movement.
It may have been slightly unhealthy.
You believed that what you and Azriel had was real. You believed that he did love you. And you couldn’t deny that you loved him. That maybe you always would.
Was it worth it to deny yourself the person who had made you so happy? Who had taught you new things, who had helped you out of your comfort zone?
As September grew closer, you still weren’t sure.
---
Azriel got more and more anxious as the summer came to a close. It had been torture to not contact you at all, but he knew he was in no position to be asking you for anything, so he did as you asked.
The hurt on your face those months ago was still a clear image in his mind that haunted his nightmares. He would never forgive himself for hurting you.
Yet, he couldn’t stop imagining what would happen when he saw you again. Would you give him another chance? You would have to be a saint to even contemplate that. But then again, you were the best person he had ever known. If anyone would be able to forgive, it would be you.
Scowling, he stomped that shred of hope down. He couldn’t go into this having any expectations.
Soon, he would know.
---
It was bittersweet coming back to school. Academia was where you thrived. You felt right at home in the library, stacks of papers all around you.
And you used to feel at home with Azriel.
You sighed at the thought. The first day of classes was tomorrow. You had told Azriel not to contact you until school started back up again, and knowing him, he would take that seriously.
Deep down, you knew what you wanted to do. It terrified you, though.
Sure enough, the next morning, you had a text from him:
Hey, bookworm. Hope your first day of classes goes well.
The slightest smile spread across your lips. You knew he was probably dying to ask when he could see you, but was trying to keep it light. Leave the ball in your court.
For the first time since everything, you texted him back.
Thanks, Az. Yours, too.
He opened it immediately. After a moment, you willed yourself to send another:
Wanna meet up at the tennis courts tonight?
His reply came at lightning speed:
7?
Reigning in your smile, you replied:
7.
You couldn’t remember ever being this nervous as you walked to the tennis courts. There were a few people playing, so you sat underneath a tree nearby, willing your legs to stop shaking.
Right on time, a familiar motorcycle turned into the parking lot. He spotted you immediately, striding over to you with unsure steps.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said quietly.
You looked up at him, your heart racing at the familiarity you felt. “Hi,” you said, and after the briefest hesitation, you patted the grass next to you. You weren’t sure you would be able to stand.
Immediately, he plopped down across from you, his knees only inches from yours as he faced you.
His eyes were locked on yours. “How was your summer?” he said, his voice cracking slightly.
“Okay,” you said. “How was yours?”
“Okay,” he said quietly.
You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. “Okay, here’s the thing. I did a lot of thinking. A lot of thinking. And I do love you, Az.”
You paused, not sure how to word what you were feeling.
“But?” Azriel said, his voice dripping with trepidation, his eyes guarded.
“But it’s going to take some time before I can trust you again.”
Azriel swallowed, his eyes never wavering from yours.
He seemed like he was waiting for you to continue before he said anything, so you added, quietly, “I am willing to try, though. To give us another chance.”
The tautness in his body released, relief flooding his features. “Really?” he croaked, tears swimming in his eyes.
You could only nod before he launched towards you, knocking you on your back, before he threaded his fingers through your hair, kissing you deeply.
You laughed, as his other hand came up to cup your face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I swear I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you,” he said against your lips.
Wrapping your arms around him, you sighed into his kiss. “I know, Az. I know.”
“I love you,” he murmured, moving to kiss down your neck.
“I love you, too.”
“I missed you so much,” he groaned before kissing your lips again.
You giggled. “I missed you, too.”
He finally stopped kissing you, settling his elbows on either side of your head, leaning his forehead against yours. “Thank you. For giving me another chance.”
Smiling, you kissed him swiftly on the lips. “Don’t mess it up.”
“I won’t. I swear I won’t.”
The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon in each other’s arms, going over your respective summers.
Eventually, Azriel propped himself on an elbow, gazing at you with all the love in the world.
“What?” you asked.
He grinned. “You wanna go mini golfing, bookworm?”
You couldn’t help but return his smile. “Only if I can help you again.”
Azriel leaned down to gently kiss your forehead. “It’s a deal.”
@thalia-as-blog @saltedcoffeescotch
#acotar fic#acotar one shot#azriel x reader#acotar x reader#azriel one shot#acotar#azriel acotar#azriel fluff#azriel x you#azriel#azriel angst#acotar azriel#azriel fanfic#azriel fic
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not enough l max verstappen x reader
request/summary – Hi! Can I request for an angsty Max Verstappen x Reader where she is just a normal girl y’know not the “supermodel” type like the other WAGs and she also leads a normal life with a normal job, thus why she got so much hate from the media and the fangirls. Never quite fit in with the other WAGs either. At some point it’s all getting too much and she decided to break up with Max because she truly believes that she’s not meant for this life but then she saw Max stands up for her during a press conference?? I had this scenario in mind while listening to Gold Rush by Taylor Swift, if that also helps! Thank you <3
author's notes – HELLO??/ LANDO WIN??? IM SO PROUD OF HIM! do expect another fic coming out this weekend around lando's win. it will be self indulgent about reader missing the race 🤕 keep an eye out but enjoy this in the meantime and keep sending in requests!!
Max and I sat in our hotel room the night before the race weekend started. I was sat on the floor as I tried to help Max with unpacking his suitcase. I had, by some miracle, convinced my lovely (but not exactly fashionable) boyfriend to wear some non-Red Bull clothes for once to the paddock. He reluctantly agreed, since he knew I barely come to races with him due to my tight schedule, and this was the least he could do for me.
“Okay, idea. How about, you wear the Miami GP button up…and then the black jeans I bought with you, the baggy ones, and then your usual shoes? Not too much out of your comfort zone, I hope?” I ask with excitement as I look back up towards him.
“And what if I don’t like it?” He asks, clearly unsure of the whole idea. I nod understandingly. “Well, I mean, of course you don’t have to, Maxie. But I just thought it’d be fun. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I say softly as I try and search his face for any signs for the reason to his reluctance.
I watched as his head dropped down to his lap. “And what if I look stupid in it?” He asks quietly. I immediately felt my heart melt. “Baby, why ever would you think that? You’ll look great in it, promise. But it’s okay if you don’t want to, we can try again some other time, okay?” I say softly as I interlock our hands to comfort him. He nodded.
——
When we got to the paddock, I felt a little out of place, knowing all the other WAGs would be there. Max notices me fidgeting nervously with my fingers, and he brings my hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on it before intertwining our fingers. During all the practice sessions, quali, and the race, I felt awfully like an outsider. All the other girls were supermodels, and very conventionally attractive. I felt like the stand out amongst them, and not in a good way. They all talked with each other earnestly about the newest dress shop they just found, and while they had no malicious intentions of leaving me out, it just didn’t work with my humor and their tastes.
With a sigh, I go roam the paddock. Max finds me afterwards, a little confused. “Hey schatje, I thought you were with the other girlfriends?” He asks softly as his arm slings around my shoulders to bring me with him as he walks to the garage. I try and brush off the left out feeling I had from earlier and just shrug. “I was just getting a little bored, nothing much,” I say as I shoot him a quick smile. “You sure?” He asks with raised brows as he looks at me knowingly. I nod with a hum, giving him a kiss before I send him off to his meetings.
After the race, Max flies to Monaco for the next race, and I fly back to the UK to my place as I didn’t have any more days off. I open my phone a few days after, scrolling on twitter as usual. I felt my heart sink a little as I see a tweet with all of the WAGs being spotted hanging out. I felt my stomach churn at the way their skin glowed, and their clothes hung off their figures so delicately yet so effortlessly. It was stupid to feel jealous of them, I knew it was. But it was also stupid of me to think I could ever have been a part of the same category they were. And unfortunately, the replies to the tweet all agreed.
maxfan93739 – I wonder why max’s girl isn’t there?
georgeschassis – why would she be there? she’s not even a model?
dutchlion – I don’t even think she’s talked to them before
landosbandage – yeah she’s not like the other gfs, she usually keeps to herself
I turned off my phone, unable to think straight. Max called me that night to let me know that he got his schedule cleared by some miracle and was gonna fly out to be with me in the morning, but I had already fallen asleep from exhaustion. I hadn’t ate the whole day, staying in my bed under the covers, burying myself from everything and everyone until my eyes closed from fatigue.
I woke up the familiar sound of Max playing with my cat in the morning, a few laughs from him. I felt like I was going to throw up, so dizzy that I didn’t even question the fact that Max was at my place so suddenly. I opened up my phone to the usual tweets, and I couldn’t stop myself from searching up my name, seeing what people were saying about me.
she’s so much fatter and shorter than the other gfs, don’t know why max is with her…..
annoying people attract annoying people ig…….
Max is a three time world champion, he shouldn’t be with an ugly girl whose using him for his money and fame……
we’ve never even seen her support him in public, she plays it off as being introverted and shy as if we don’t know what she’s doing.
I slam my phone face down as I hear Max’s voice. “Schat? Hey, I didn’t know you were awake. I called you last night to tell you I was gonna fly in last minute, but I think you already fell asleep, right?” Max asks with no suspicion of what I was just doing. I nodded. “You want some breakfast, love? I ordered in some waffles from that place you love?” He asks excitedly.
I stay silent for a moment, thinking of the tweets. “Uh, you know what? I think I’ll skip out on breakfast today,” I say with a nonchalant smile. His smile falters. “Baby, you need to have breakfast or else you’ll be hungry. It’s not healthy,” he says as his voice softens. “No no no, I know, Maxie. I just had a really heavy dinner last night. Like really heavy. If I need a snack before I’ll lunch I’ll take it, don’t worry,” I say to try and convince him. I hold my breath as he scans me, thinking about my answer, before finally nodding and accepting it. “You tell me if you need a snack, alright?” He says as he presses a kiss on my forehead.
This kept going on for many days, me making excuses about my meals like me eating when he was working out, or having a snack earlier, or that I felt super full from the last meal. Finally, one morning Max confronts me.
He walks up to me while I’m sitting on the couch, my cat in my lap as I’m petting it. “Schatje, we need to talk. I know exactly what you’re doing. You’ve barely been eating, my love, what’s going on?” He asks with concern lacing his voice as he sits down next to me.
I stiffen slightly, my stomach knotting up as I think about what he’s referring to. “Why don’t you ask twitter?” I say coldly. I see him sigh immediately, pursing his lips. “You know twitter isn’t good to listen to. It’s all bullshit, love,” he says as he tries to reach his arm out to me. I pull away, letting my cat go as I stand up.
“Max, this is exhausting. I cannot constantly feel like every part of me is ugly because of the other WAGs being so stupidly beautiful because they’re models. I cannot handle being in the spotlight and having every single mannerism of mine criticized, every fluctuation in weight pinpointed and spotlighted for the world to see. I can’t do….. this,” I say with a sigh.
He takes a few minutes to process what I’ve just said. “You can’t do…. us? Is that what you’re saying?”
I gulp, my silence being enough of an answer for him. “Oh come on, you can’t be serious. You’re gorgeous, and I don’t care that other girlfriends are models. I only care about you. Please, we can make this work,” he pleads softly.
I shake my head. “I’ve been trying, Max. I’ve been trying to make it work this whole time. It’s just not happening. It’s too much for me. I need time away from it all.”
“You’re doing this to yourself, it doesn’t have to be like this,” he mutters with a voice of frustration.
I felt my eyes roll in frustration. “You just don’t get it! I wish so badly the I could just, not care the way you do, but unfortunately I care very very much about what they all say! And don’t you fucking dare blame this on me!” I snapped at him unintentionally, hurt that he’s blaming me right now when I very clearly needed him right now.
“I’m not trying to blame you! But why don’t you believe me? That I’ll protect you from it all like I have been doing! You don’t need to break up with me for this, for fuck’s sake,” he mutters out, his voice slightly raising now.
I felt myself hold back tears in the back of my throat, not used to the angry tone my boyfriend was using, as I flinched at his tone. I sniffled, trying to hold back the tears with a shaky breath.
He takes a few seconds before he sighs, unable to change my mind. He clenches his jaw, slamming the door to our bedroom. By morning, all his stuff, including him, were gone from my place.
Soon enough, the fans noticed. Noticed that I was no longer liking and commenting under Max’s posts, that I was no longer interrupting his streams, that Max didn’t talk about me much anymore.
A media reporter came up to Max during the race weekend for an interview. At the end, he asked, “It looks like you and your partner are not talking anymore, no?”
Max brushed it off casually in the way he always does about private matters to the media. “Uh, well, every relationship has its ups and down, you know? But that is something I prefer to keep private.”
“Well, better to be rid of her,” the reporter says jokingly. Max’s eyes suddenly shifted into a more serious tone. “No? She’s amazing and gorgeous and kind and intelligent. So no, it’s my loss, really. And either way, you have no right to talk about any woman like that,” he says firmly before walking off.
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𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 ; 𝐛𝐜
𝐭𝐰: [afab!reader. angst at the beginning (not between chris and the reader). breakup (also not chris and the reader). best friend!chris. confessions. nipple play. cunnilingus. sliiiiiight pussy job if you squint. first time (together, they’re both experienced though). unprotected penetrative sex (don’t.). creampie. bff2l trope. fluff.]
𝐰𝐜: 5,7k;
🏷️: @silentcry01 , @capitainesyallin , @becomingmina , @cottontailtoy , @warpedspirit , @newhope8 (i tagged you since you interacted with my post but do tell me if it makes you uncomfortable and i'll remove your name!) ;
[check out my masterlist here]
𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭. 18+ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢. 𝐢 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬/𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬. 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐢𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬.
─── ⋆⋅🥛🍯⋅⋆ ──
When Chris opens his door you’re there in front of him.
The pouring rain has soaked you from head to toe, clothes sticking to your body and it’s the worst feeling ever. When you raise your head and your eyes meet his, Chris’ breath hitches in his throat - they’re red and puffy and teary and it’s breaking his heart. You look absolutely shocked and devastated and he doesn’t know what to do to help you.
“What… what…” he opens and closes his mouth a few times, unable to formulate a more complex sentence such as what are you doing here so late? or what happened?
“Can I come in?” Your lips quiver as you speak, voice broken. You sniffle.
Chris blinks a couple of times and then he comes to his senses. Stepping aside, he nods rapidly. “Of course. Sure, of course. Come in.”
He doesn’t give a fuck about the fact that you’re practically dripping and wetting the floor, his only preoccupation right now is making sure you’re safe and taken care of. Chris runs to his bedroom leaving you there, shaking and trembling and dumbfounded - he comes back a couple of minutes later with one of his hoodies and long sweats and a pair of warm socks.
“You should change. Go take a shower and dry yourself. You can put these on, they’re clean.”
“It’s not… you don’t have to,” you hiccup, still crying, and then you sneeze.
Chris cups your face in his large hand, brushing your puffy cheek with his thumb. “I don’t want you to get sick. C’mon. I’ll make you a cup of warm milk with your favourite cookies.”
With one last sniffle and a weak nod, you accept the fresh clean clothes and make your way towards Chris’ bathroom. The feeling of the hot stream of water hitting your body is somehow regenerating, and once you step outside you feel light as a feather and so relaxed that you almost forget why you were upset in the first place. Chris’ clothes feel warm on your body and oddly familiar - maybe it’s his scent that makes you feel home, or maybe it’s the fact that you actually are in his home, wearing his clothes after you just got out of his shower. The tears are back, prickling in your eyes, and a few of them actually slip from your eyes before you can stop them.
“Here you are,” Chris smiles at you as soon as he spots your figure standing in the hallway. You look so cute in his clothes. “Your milk is ready.”
“With… with honey?” You pout and a smile spreads on Chris’ face.
He nods. “Of course. Two teaspoons, as usual.”
The tears are back, and so is the traitor lump in your throat you get every time you look at Chris or whenever he does something that shows extra care towards you. “I’ve… there’s… my wet clothes. I didn’t know where…”
Chris shakes his head as a no, “ah, don’t worry about that. I’ll do the laundry and put them in the dryer. They’ll be ready before you know it. Just, please, come drink your milk.”
He leaves you a warm blanket for you to wrap around your legs, especially your feet, since he knows they’re always freezing cold. The milk is perfect, just the way you like it - two tablespoons of honey and your favourite cookies. It still amazes you, sometimes, the way Chris knows you like the back of his hand. You hear the sound of the washing machine going off, and then you hear footsteps, and then Chris is back.
“Is it good?” He asks, sitting on the end of the couch, looking at you with a soft smile and warm, brown eyes.
“It’s perfect,” you lower your gaze to the now half-empty mug, circling its rim with the tip of your finger. “Thank you, Chris.”
“Ah, shut up. Don’t even think about thanking me.” Chris squeezes your foot, which makes you chuckle. “You feel like talking to me?”
“About… about what?”
“About whatever was the reason why you showed up here looking shocked and soaking wet.”
“Oh,” you murmur, “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not upset at you. Just worried. I want to help you, please talk to me,” he pleads, worried - you can read it in his eyes, in the way he’s fidgeting with the silver bracelet wrapped around his wrist, in the way he’s biting on his lip.
It’s time to let your walls down, it’s time to tell him the truth. Why are you so scared? It’s your best friend, the man sitting in front of you, and not a total stranger - however, part of you feels as if it’s even worse right now. With him, you know you can be yourself and one hundred percent honest, but right now everything feels different and you don’t know whether things will be the same ever again if you do tell him the truth.
“We broke up.”
Chris feels a pang in his chest, knowing how you must feel right now. Broken and lost, not knowing what to do. He’s found himself in that exact situation before, when his long-term relationship had ended, leaving him heartbroken and hurt. You looked devastated when you showed up at his doorstep… He wishes he could ease your pain, make you feel better, but right now the only thing he can do is be there for you.
“I’m so sorry, flower,” Chris squeezes your foot once again. “Was it… was it completely out of the blue or… had things been rough lately?”
Both - should be your answer, which is also the truth in some way. But the actual truth is that you weren’t expecting the breakup at all. There were problems between you and your ex, but you were both willing to work on them.
“It’s complicated. I still… haven’t realised it. I’ve still got to process the whole thing.”
Chris nods. “Right. If you need to talk I’m here. You know that, right?” You hum an affirmative response. “Talking about it might actually help you feel better.”
“I don’t think so, but thank you, Chris.” You place the now empty mug on the small table besides the couch. “It was just sudden and I needed to get out that house as soon as possible.”
Chris furrows his eyebrows and goes into overprotective mode. “Why? Was he being an asshole about it? Did he hurt you?” He instinctively clenched his jaw at the thought of your ex, or anybody else for the record, hurting you - he’ll go beat his ass right now if you tell him that fucker laid one stupid finger on you.
“No, no. Not physically. He said some… hurtful things, but nothing that isn’t true,” you sigh, and Chris rolls his eyes and scoffs.
“No. You’re not defending that asshole and I’m sure nothing of what he said to you is true. Nothing.”
Oh, you don’t know how you’re wrong, Chris.
“I’m not defending him. Just - thinking rationally, I see his point of view now.”
“What did he tell you?”
You don’t want to go there, Chris.
“Just… random stuff. It doesn’t matter, it’s not important.”
“It is important since you haven’t stopped crying since you got here. I can’t let you believe that asshole is right.”
It feels insanely hot in Chris’ living room right now. Your palms are sweaty and there’s a weird feeling in your stomach - you can’t really decipher it, but it’s making you feel dizzy. And Chris is in front of you, waiting for an answer, waiting for you to tell him the truth. The truth. The same truth you’d told your ex before storming out of his place and walking to Chris’. It’s a weird thing - the truth.
“He just… pointed out some things. Like, I’ve been emotionally distant for the past few weeks, and that I’ve changed.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it, too,” Chris quickly comments. “People change. Emotionally distant? Does he not know you’ve just changed your job and that they’re making you work your ass off?” He scoffs, invested in the conversation.
“I mean, he’s not wrong. I have been emotionally distant-”
“It is completely normal to feel drained, especially if your life and your routine have changed drastically. He should’ve been more understanding of-”
“He accused me of having feelings for somebody else.”
Chris’ jaw drops. He stares at you, blinking, incredulous. As if you’d just told him the most absurd thing.
“He what? He… he accused you of cheating? You?” Chris can’t believe the words that left your mouth - well, your ex’s mouth. You’re the most sincere person he knows. “You aren’t capable of such a thing, he should know that. You… you’re the most honest person I know.”
You swallow the lump in your throat, nervously toying with the pendant of your necklace. The necklace Chris got you for your birthday last year. You never take it off, not even when you shower, which is why you had to go get it polished. It’s your most prized possession, and not because it’s from an expensive brand or bullshit like that - it’s because he gave it to you. That’s what makes it so special.
“He didn’t accuse me of cheating. Just of having feelings for someone else.”
Chris rolls his eyes, annoyed. “Yeah, and who would this someone be? You’re always at work and when you’re not working you’re at home with him, and when you’re not with him you’re with me- oh.” Bingo, Chris. “Don’t… don’t tell me he thinks there’s something going on between us.”
Your lack of response is everything Chris needs to know, even though he’s only partially right.
“Is he for real?” Chris scoffs. “We’ve been friends for decades and nothing’s ever happened, there’s no reason for him to start feeling jealous now. You’ve been together for almost a year, he should trust you and not accuse you of having feelings for me-“
“He’s right,” you blurt out, much louder than you had expected.
Chris, in front of you, freezes. “What?”
“He’s right, Chris. I… I feel something for you. I think I always have, and I think… I think he always knew.”
“You… you feel something for me?”
You pull the blanket he lent you over your head, but Chris can easily tell you’re nodding. “I’m sorry,” he hears you mumble, even though your words come out muffled by the thick layer, and then he hears a sniffle.
He comes closer, sitting next to you now. “Hey. Flower,” he calls you softly. You don’t pull the blanket down, you don’t want him to see your tear-strained face. “Why are you sorry, hm?”
Another sniffle. Chris figures you’re drying the tears with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Because… things’ll be different now. Between us. And it’s all my fault.”
“First of all, it’s not your fault. You can’t control your feelings. You can’t choose who to fall for, that’s not how it works.”
You’re quiet for a few seconds. “So you… you’re not mad at me?”
“Are you mad at me?”
More seconds spent in silence. “Why would I be mad at you?” You ask, genuinely confused.
“Because I have feelings for you, too.”
The world stops. Everything’s silent and completely still. Nothing can be heard except for both yours and Chris’ heartbeats. The weird feeling in your stomach has been replaced by a more pleasant one, a more hopeful one. You wish you could turn back time only to hear those words come out of Chris’ lips one more time, to make sure you didn’t imagine them.
“You’re lying…” is the only thing you manage to say after moments of dizziness. Your head is spinning, heart thumping in your chest.
“I’m not,” Chris says. “I would never lie to you.”
“You… you have feelings for me?”
It feels weird, to have this conversation when you’re fully hidden by a blanket, but at least you can ask him all the question that come up to your mind without feeling shy. Chris doesn’t seem to mind it, either, even though he’d much rather see your cute face. He bets your cute, puffy cheeks are all red now.
“I do. I have for a while,” he confesses. “It’s kinda hard not to fall for your best friend when she’s the cutest and the sweetest and most caring person on earth.”
“Stop it,” you mumble, embarrassed, and Chris knows you’re covering your face with your hands right now.
“Nope, not gonna. Not when I’ve waited all this time to tell you.”
Chris’ hands are trembling, despite the confidence in his words and voice. The one thing he thought would never happen is happening right now - you’re there, in his living room, telling him you like him and he feels the happiest he’s been in forever.
“Flower?”
“Hm?”
“Do you mind lowering the blanket so I can kiss you?”
You’re positive your heart has never beaten so fast in your chest. Chris wants to kiss you. Chris has feelings for you and wants to kiss you - it’s not an hallucination, he really said it.
“You… you do it…” you murmur, feeling shy. You can’t wrap your mind around the fact you’re about to kiss him.
Chris finds you the cutest. Grabbing the blanket, he gently pulls it down. Your face is as read as he imagined it, and you’re not looking at him. With two fingers under your chin, he lifts your head.
Nothing can prepare you for the moment when Chris finally presses his lips on yours. It’s the moment when things change forever, because there’s no way you can keep on living without kissing those lips ever again. Chris feels warm on you, he feels familiar and foreign at the same time, he feels like nothing you’ve felt before, he feels like home. He pulls back only to lick his lips and press them back on yours, cupping your cheek in his hand, pulling you closer.
Despite this being the first time the two of you kiss, it’s almost as if you’ve done this a million times before. It feels natural, there’s no shyness anymore in your actions, not even when you place your hand on the back of his head and pull him even closer.
“I’ve wanted this for so long…” Chris mumbles, resting his forehead on yours when he pulls back to breathe.
“Me too,” you bite your lip, nuzzling his nose, “thought it’d never happen.”
Chris crashes his lips on yours once more. “I never… wanna stop… kissing you,” he mumbles in-between kisses, hungry, craving the contact.
“Me neither…” you wrap your arms around his neck.
Making out with Chris feels amazing. It feels like finally being able to eat after weeks of starving. It feels like a dream come true. You truly do not want to stop kissing him, and even if you wanted to you’re positive you couldn’t, because it’s your body that craves him and his presence. It’s instinctual, the way you keep licking lips with him, a thirst that only him can quench.
“Closer…” you mumble.
You need to feel him closer. You need to wrap yourself around him, you need to feel his arms around you, his warmth surrounding you and keeping you safe.
Chris shifts on the couch, but even then the two of you are uncomfortable. “Stupid fucking couch,” he curses under his breath.
“Maybe we could…” you peck his lips, and then again, and then once more. You nearly forgot what you wanted to say in the first place. “Maybe we could take this to your room…” you breathe on his mouth, curious eyes looking into his and waiting for an answer, shyness long forgotten.
Chris’ breath hitches in his throat. Okay, maybe you didn’t mean it that way, but he can’t stop his mind from going there. From imagining your body under his, from imagining the feeling of you wrapped around him. He should really stop thinking about it, even though the damage is already done and he’s already hard.
“D’you mean… I mean, am I reading the room… the way I’m supposed to be reading it?”
It’s when you give him a small nod that his brain start short-circuiting. The thought of sleeping with you has crossed his mind before, but he never thought he’d actually get to live the moment one day. Like, for real. And now you’re here, in his living room, looking at with with the sweetest eyes, your lips all red and swollen from the countless of kisses, implying what you’re implying and Chris feels like his heart is about to leap out of his chest right now.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Okay, let’s go to my room.”
You cling onto him like a koala as he picks you up, hooking your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. As he walks towards his bedroom, you can’t help but overthink this. You haven’t really felt this nervous about sex before - it’s a good kind of nervous, though. You’re excited about it and you trust Chris more than you’ve trusted any of your partners. Everything feels right and natural with him.
Chris’ bedroom is warm and cozy and welcoming. You’ve been here countless of times before, but never in a situation like this. You’ve slept in this room, just slept, you’ve watched movies with him, you’ve done research for your essays and worked on your stuff - you’ve never entered this room with the awareness you were gonna have sex with Chris.
Even when he gently lays you on his bed with all the care in this world - even then it doesn’t feel real. He resumes kissing you with the same passion and reverence as before, the same hunger, but there’s no rush in his action - just a desire of living the moment and be in the present with you. He doesn’t care about anything else right now, you’re laying on his bed and that’s everything that matters - the whole world can go to hell for all he cares. You’re wearing his clothes, laying on his bed, and everything feels so beautifully domestic that he doesn’t want to let go of this moment, too afraid to ruin it.
“Chris…” you breathe out when he starts kissing the soft spot below your jaw.
Your legs part almost naturally, welcoming his body in between them, allowing him to press himself on you. The contact his erection makes with the front of the sweats you’re wearing makes you want more. The awareness that you’re the one who’s making him feel this way right now sends a shiver down your spine which makes you arch your back.
Chris slips one hand under the hoodie you’re wearing, caressing your warm, soft skin. He’s never touched you in such an intimate way. His thumb draws imaginary shapes on your stomach, imaginary patterns that make no sense but that right now, to you, they’re the most wholesome thing in the world. Chris’ hand moves up, up, until the pads of his fingers come to brush the underside of one of your breasts and you gasp against his mouth.
“Is this… not okay?” Chris has to ask, he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way.
You shake your head as a no and he immediately moves his hand, but you place it back to where it was. “No, I meant… it’s okay. More than okay, actually.”
Chris cups your breast with a delicacy only someone like him can have within himself, treating your body as if it were made of glass and he was terrified to scratch, or worse, break it. His thumb brushes your nipple, feeling it harden under his touch, and you want nothing more than for him to wrap his lips around it.
He seems to read your mind. “Can I take it off?” He asks, referring to the hoodie.
“Yeah. You too,” you tug at his black t-shirt, lifting it up just a little bit.
“Together?” Chris asks and you nod.
You both take off the pieces of clothing at the same time, remaining half-naked in front of each other. You’ve seen Chris shirtless countless of times before, but never in this context, and that’s why it feels completely different this time. He looks absolutely stunning and perfect and yours. You bite your lip at the realisation.
He’s going through the exact same thought process inside his head - brain chemistry altered by the sight of your perfect breasts right in front of his eyes.
“You’re all mine…” he mumbles, latching his lips on yours once more, his hands on your chest.
It’s when his fingers slip under the thick waistband of the sweats he’d lent you, that you realise it’s not just an hallucination - Chris is about to see you naked and you’re about to see him naked and he’s gonna be inside you and you’re gonna make love to each other for the first time tonight.
He starts kissing your neck and then your collarbone, and his fingers stay exactly where they are, touching you slowly beneath the waistband, but not going too far as to touch your most private parts. When his lips wrap around your nipple, however, it takes you so off guard that you gasp and arch your back, which allows his fingers to brush you there. You both blush at the sudden contact he makes with your pussy and clit.
He lifts his head to look at you, searching for any sign of discomfort in your eyes - instead, you just beg him, “please.”
Chris hides his face in your neck, taking a deep breath as he feels his cock throb and twitch inside his underwear. He starts by pulling the sweats down your legs, slowly, while kissing you. You do feel a little bit shy about being fully naked while he’s still got his pants and underwear on, and he senses that, so he starts undressing himself, pulling down his own clothes. Even though you can’t see his cock, you hear the sound it makes when it slaps against Chris’ stomach.
Both you and Chris shiver when his tip accidentally brushes your naked pussy, completely unintentionally since Chris was just trying to make himself comfortable and ready for what he’s about to do next.
“Can I eat you out?”
You feel already dizzy at the mere thought of Chris going down on you. “Yeah. Please,” you beg once more and Chris is losing his mind.
He leaves gentle kisses all over your skin as he moves down. Your chest, your stomach, your navel, your thighs, until his lips brush you there where you need him the most. He starts leaving small pecks there, too, taking his time, not wanting to rush anything, worshipping you like you deserve.
The first lick on your clit makes you let out a small hmph sound which you try in vain to muffle with the back of your hand. Of course he finds it in record time. That should make you feel jealous of his previous partners and sexual encounters, perhaps, but right now you’re just thankful he’s nothing like your exes.
Chris knows how to use his tongue, licking and lapping at your pussy like there’s no tomorrow - his only goal is to have you cumming on his tongue and hearing those pretty sounds you’re trying so hard to muffle and hold back. He grunts against your skin, wrapping his plump lips around your clit and sucking, chuckling satisfied when he finally manages to make you moan. All for him. It’s him who’s making you feel so good.
He licks and kisses and sucks and strokes your clit with the tip of his fingers, pleased with the way your legs are shaking on each side of his head. He starts grinding his cock on the mattress by reflex, smearing pre-cum all over the covers, which you’ve already stained and soaked with your wetness that’s pooling under your ass, a mixture of your arousal and Chris’ saliva.
“Chris… Chris…” you pant, legs shaking like crazy and Chris hooks his arms under your thighs to make sure you don’t move and squirm too much, burying his face in your sweet cunt.
He makes out with your pussy, swallowing your arousal and humming at how delicious you taste. He lets out a tiny humph when you entangle your fingers in his hair and tug at it when you’re about to reach your high, pulling him even closer until all he can smell, taste, feel is you.
“Chris…” with one last whimper of his name you come onto his tongue, clit throbbing in his mouth. He continues to suck and tease it with the tip of his tongue until you gently tap and push him by the shoulder.
Chris kisses your inner thighs, your hips, your stomach as you come down from your high, your taste is still invading his mouth and he wishes it’d never fade away. He’s already addicted to you.
“You okay?” He mumbles on your skin, resting his chin on your stomach as he looks at you.
You nod. “I’m feeling great,” you toy with the ends of his hit, twisting it with your finger, “need you, though.” The need to feel him close is stronger than anything else.
“Let’s get under the covers, yeah?”
You feel incredibly at home between Chris’ bedsheets, in his arms as he finds his place between your legs, his hard, leaking cock pressed on your stomach. You can feel it perfectly, hard and hot and velvety at the touch. You want to return the favour, but you’re both too needy right now, and if you don’t get to feel him inside of you within the next couple of minutes you might actually explode.
Chris’ strong arms are on each side of your head, and then his lips are back on yours. You’re tracing imaginary patterns on his back with the tip of your finger - at least Chris thinks they’re imaginary, while you’re actually drawing little hearts all over his skin.
He begins to tease you by slowly moving his hips, allowing his hard member to slide up and down your folds, his balls pressing on your clit with each thrust, and you feel yourself getting wet all over again, even more than before, perhaps. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer until you can’t even distinguish where your body ends and his begins, until you’re one thing.
Chris pulls back only to stretch his arm out towards his nightstand to grab a condom, you suppose. You’re quick to entangle your fingers with his, stopping him.
“Without…” you murmur, hiding your face in the crook of his neck - you’re blushing and your face feels super hot, almost as if it were on fire right now. “Can we do it without?” you ask him and Chris blinks a few times, incredulous.
“Are you sure? One hundred percent?” He asks. He needs you to be sure, it’s a huge step.
You nod repeatedly. “Need… need to feel you. I’m clean, I’ve never… I’ve never done it without a condom before. Want you to be my first.”
Chris kicks his head slightly back and squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to control himself. Those words, together with the way that you’re looking at him and with how hot and wet you feel pressed on him. He knows you’re on birth control, and he trusts you and knows you’re telling the truth about being clean.
“I’ve never done it without a condom, too. And I’m clean. We can… we can do it without one, if you promise me you’re really sure.”
“I am, Chris. Promise.”
He shifts all his weight on one arm as he wraps his fingers around his cock. You can’t help but bite your lip at the feeling of his tip brushing your entrance - Chris makes sure it’s wet enough before pushing inside of you, he would never hurt you.
The both of you let out a gasp and look into each other’s eyes when he finally slips inside of you. It’s different than anything you know, it’s different than anything he knows. He pushes inside of you slowly, not wanting to rush it and give in to his instincts, and only when he’s bottomed out inside of you you feel complete. You’ve been dreaming of this for so long, and now he’s here, in your arms, between your legs and inside of you, and everything feels right for the first time in forever.
You’re making love to Chris. Chris is making love to you. You’ve never felt more alive.
He starts moving inside of you. The pace is slow, excruciatingly slow at first. Chris just sways his hips back and forth tentatively, feeling your warmth and your wetness engulfing his member wholly. He feels the closest he’s ever been to you - physically, of course, but also from an emotional point of view.
“You feel amazing,” he whispers in your ear, thrusting just a little bit harder, craving more and more. “All mine. You’re all mine. My pretty flower. Never letting you go, you’re stuck with me now.”
You giggle, kissing his lips softly. “Fine by me. I’ve been wanting to be yours for the longest time.”
“I’m yours, too, yeah? I’ve always been, flower.”
He bites his lip to hold back a moan, continuing to fuck into you at a steady pace, sinking deeper and deeper inside of you with each thrust. A soft bite on your collarbone, a sweet suck on the soft flesh, then he cups one of your breasts in one hand and wraps his lips around your nipple once again while still fucking you, and keeps on sucking and licking until he feels his orgasm building up in his stomach.
“Touch yourself,” he nuzzles your cheek. “Wanna cum together.”
You look him in the eye as you touch yourself the way you like it, setting the right pace and applying the right pressure on the sensitive bundle of nerves, and it doesn’t take long before your toes begin to curl and your legs start to shake. Chris, on top of you, still fucking you, squeezes his eyes shut, his mouth falls open as he feels close to his release.
Before he could pull out, you whisper in his ear, “inside. Cum inside of me. Need to feel you.”
Chris reaches his high mere seconds later, with a choked moan, hiding his face in your chest, and you release around him immediately after. He fills you up slowly, and you can’t really feel it, except for the unfamiliar warmth that starts spreading down there.
Neither of you move. Chris stays exactly where he is, on top of you, inside of you, and you have no intention to unwrap your limbs from around him. It doesn’t matter that you’re all sweaty and sticky and that his warm cum is already starting to ooze out of you - neither of you wants to let go.
A giggle escapes your lips, and Chris snaps his head to look at you, curious to know the reason behind it. “What?” He asks with a smile on his face.
His cute dimple appears. You poke it. “Nothing. I just realised that now I know what you sound like in bed,” you giggle once more, covering your lips with your hand.
Chris’ cheeks turn red. “Ah… Hey, I know what you sound like, too!” He protests with a chuckle.
“True, but I also know what your orgasm face is like,”you add, sticking your tongue out at him.
“And I know what you taste like,” he whispers on your lips, looking into your eyes, “and I also know what you feel like when you’re wrapped around me. I know what it feels like to be inside you and to fill you up.”
It’s your turn to blush now. You cover your face with both of your hands. “Chris! You can’t say things like that!” You whine, embarrassed.
“But why not?” He asks, rolling over and carrying you with him so that you’re now lying on top of him. “I always thought I knew you like the back of my hand. But you know what I just realised?” He pulls a strand of hair away from your face.
“What?”
“There’s so many things I don’t know about you, and I can’t wait to find them all out, one by one. I wanna learn everything that makes you… you.”
“Does this mean…” you mumble, absentmindedly drawing invisible flowers and hearts on his chest. “That you’re my boyfriend now?”
“Well, that depends,” he says seriously.
“On what?” you pout, looking at him with big, doe eyes.
He smiles at you, the dimple is back. “Do you wanna be my girlfriend?”
-
You hate mornings.
Tossing and turning in your bed, you soon come to realise there’s no way you’re getting back to sleep - the sun is already up in the sky and shining bright, lighting the whole room. When you open your eyes, realisation hits you - this is not your bed.
You inevitably start thinking of the previous night, of Chris, of your confession and what happened after. The tingling feeling between your legs is the proof that it wasn’t a dream - your, actually Chris’, clothes on the floor are the proof you didn’t hallucinate it.
You’re in Chris’s bed. The full ache between your legs is there because of Chris. The clothes on the floor are Chris’. But where is he? Why isn’t he beside you and why aren’t his clothes on the floor as well?
Your heart beats fast in your chest as you get up and start dressing yourself to look presentable, thinking of the worst scenarios possible. Perhaps he realised last night was a mistake. Perhaps he doesn’t know how to turn you down without breaking your heart. You rush downstairs.
And you find him there, in the kitchen. With his curly hair all dishevelled and all over the place. In a worn-out hoodie he just won’t throw out just because it’s was an old gift of yours. With his bare feet against the cold floor.
Two mugs on the table. Plenty of cookies on a plate.
“Oh!” Chris is surprised to find you standing there. “Good morning,” he smiles at you brightly. “I made you breakfast. I actually wanted to bring it to you in bed, but you beat me to it,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his neck nervously.
Your favourite smell is lingering in the air. You check what’s inside the mugs. Milk and honey. You smile at Chris - your boyfriend. Everything feels right.
─── ⋆⋅🥛🍯⋅⋆ ──
𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞. 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢'𝐦 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝.
#bangchan smut#bang chan smut#bangchan fan fiction#bangchan fanfic#bangchan fic#bang chan fanfic#bang chan x reader#bang chan x you#stray kids fanfic#skz smut#stray kids fic#stray kids smut#stray kids masterlist#skz masterlist#bang chan x y/n#bang chan x female reader#bang chan x oc#bang chan hard hours#bang chan hard thoughts#bangchan hard hours#bangchan hard thoughts#stray kids hard hours#skz hard thoughts
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Lullabies | Max Verstappen x Singer! Reader
Summary: Six months ago, Max walked out of your life after a conversation about your future. When you find out he' ended up in a's dating Kelly - who has a child - you work through your emotions in the best way you know how; revenge music.
Warnings: Swearing. Angst. Miscommunication. End of a relationship. Max doesn’t look great in this.
Female reader with various faceclaims. Takes place in 2021 but timelines have been completely altered. Olivia Rodrigo songs.
Main Masterlist
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Feb
YourUserName just posted
liked by georgerussell63, bestfriend and others
YourUserName 'and i fantasise about a time you're a little fucking sorry'
12,326 comments
User 1 mother is in the studio, ya’ll. i'm smelling a new album
User 2 did their breakup destroy my soul? yes. do i believe the revenge album will heal my soul? absolutely
User 3 the working titles are so unhinged and I’m here for it
→ User 4 hit you with a car is so real
→ User 5 love that she called him evil whilst also saying that she wants him to drive off a cliff. we respect it
francisca.cgomes i’m SO ready for this. sure you can’t give me a little preview?
→ YourUserName stop trying to get me fired
User 6 sis disappears from social media for 6 months only to come back serving cunt
━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━
2 months before
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May
redbullracing just posted
liked by YourUserName, maxverstappen1 and others
redbullracing ANOTHER VICTORY FOR MAX VERSTAPPEN 🏆 #AustrianGP
tagged: maxverstappen1, kellypiquet
7,445 comments
User 7 omg omg omg y/n liked. this is not a drill
User 8 was that last photo really necessary? she’s just a wag, she’s not actually part of red bull
User 9 not y/n liking 🥺 he broke her heart but she’s still supportive of his career
User 10 that should’ve been Y/N
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June
YourUserName just posted
liked by maxverstappen1, victoriaverstappen and others
YourUserName 'you’re just a stranger i know everything about'
10,102 comments
User 11 not max liking despite not even following
victoriaverstappen so talented
liked by maxverstappen1
→ YourUserName thank you, vic x
→ User 12 not the former SILs interacting on main
alex_albon what's that sound? oh, it's just my tears
→ YourUserName doofus
→ lilymhe can confirm
User 12 and now my heart is breaking all over again. i miss the two of them so bad
kellypiquet just posted
liked by landonorris, redbullracing and others
kellypiquet summer break with my favourites 🤍
tagged: maxverstappen1
4,387 comments
User 13 so pretty
User 14 goals
User 15 anyone notice max hasn’t been commenting since y/n became active again on socials
→ User 16 delusional
→ User 17 clearly they're fine if she's posting vacay pics with him
→ User 18 except these are clearly old pics because max had stubble at the gp like two days ago so...
→ User 15 @ user16 plus he always used to comment and this time he's not even liked the post
→ User 19 not to add fuel to the fire but they were also spotted arguing after his podium
YourUserName posted a new story
Hi, guys. This part of the Baby Fever Angst series, which will include smaus for other drivers. Daniel’s part has already been posted.
I have part 2 planned if people want it but also happy to leave it like this if people don't want them to have redemption haha
Tag List (I tried to include all those who asked. Sorry if you only wanted to be tagged in Part 2 to Daniel and not the other drivers, it got a bit confusing haha)
@lav3nder-haze @minkyungseokie @callsignwidow @luvrrish @fall-bambi @evans-dejong @sadsierra2 @justdreamersdream @spookystitchery
#formula 1#f1#formula 1 smau#f1 smau#formula 1 social media au#f1 social media au#social media au imagine#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 headcanon#formula 1 drabble#formula 1 one shot#formula 1 fluff#formula 1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 drabble#f1 headcanon#f1 one shot#f1 fluff#f1 x reader#max verstappen#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen drabble#max verstappen headcanon#max verstappen one shot#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen smau#max verstappen x reader
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unwelcomed ❥︎ a. putellas & c. graham hansen x reader.
your first three weeks working for barcelona's women's hospital went as smoothly as you'd hope, but you find yourself in the middle of a rivalry between the two top surgeons.
prologue of in sickness, in health.
warnings: mentions of workplace harassment.
in all your three weeks of working at barcelona women's hospital, there has never been a non busy day, let alone a non busy hour or minute. you were constantly rushing up and down hallways throughout the medical facility. constantly answering calls from patients and coworkers alike.
it was tiresome, no one ever said being a nurse at one of the top medical institutions for women's health in europe was going to by light work, but you figured that (with all the world class medical professionals around) it wouldn't be as stressful as working at a normal hospital in a decently sized city.
that's when you realize that everyone has to pull their weight, big or small. you often felt bad about your complaints towards your workload considering that it was minor compared to what the surgeons have to do, especially dr. alexia putellas and dr. caroline graham hansen. two of the absolute best.
you've only interacted with dr. putellas, the heart surgeon; she was the head of the surgeon department, so you saw her often. if she wasn't booked with patients, you'd usually see her in the hospital's garden taking a well deserved lunch break.
despite having such an crucial role, she rarely ever talked to anyone, except for dr. guijarro, dr. rolfö, or dr. paredes (who was the hospital's head supervisor, a very important woman). for everyone else, it was the usual head nod or no response at all. she was a 'go to work & go home' type of woman. your interactions with the woman was always short and simple, "hello." "good evening." "goodbye." and nothing more.
you quickly learned from a few of your coworkers that dr. putellas was quite the heartthrob. women would always fond over her and even make unwelcomed advances towards her. all the attention made her uncomfortable and you believe that its what made her so reserved.
"she's a real sweetheart." dr. frido, one of the more vocally welcoming doctors, said to you one day. "she just has a lot of eyes on her, many of them are quite perverted, so she keeps to herself in order to stop all the attention."
you only nodded in agreement because what else could be said? dr. putellas was a professional who was just trying to do her job without being the target of romantic, and even sexual, comments.
dr. frido glanced over to nurse engen with a teasing smile. "ingrid has had similar problems before a certain police officer came into the picture."
nurse engen blushed lightly. "it was hard to do my work when women would comment on my eyes. it's nice at first, but then it gets annoying pretty fast." the norwegian nurse turned her attention to the small police officer who was standing off near the front exit with another police officer a little shorter than her.
the said officer, affectionately named mapi, quickly looked away when she was caught by her lover. engen and frido both laughed at mapi's adorable obession with the nurse. you only smiled, not sure if you were familiar enough with them to laugh along appropriately.
as much as you were curious about dr. putellas, you kept your distance away from her as you didn't want her to assume you were like the women she awfully despised. your efforts seemed to please the older woman as she frequently sent you a small smile whenever you passed by her.
you were a bit more curious about the other famous surgeon, dr. graham hansen. while you knew a few details about dr. putellas, you knew absolutely nothing about dr. graham hansen, the hospital's brain surgeon, and it seemed like no one did. not even her fellow norwegian, nurse engen.
"i know as much about her as you do." ingrid said calmly. "i'm a bit shy when it comes to meeting new people, so i never got the chance to bond with her and i think she might also be shy as well. we do have a reputation for being shy [norwegians]."
"you can always talk to osho." frido cuts in. "i think osho is the only one here that knows anything about caroline."
"osho?" you asked.
"asisat oshoala, but we call her osho." frido informed. "osho works at the front desk in the children's unit. she's also caroline's 'best friend' and i always see those two hanging out together."
ingrid agreed with the swede. "yeah, i'm not sure what brought them together, but they are quite the pairing."
you have yet to meet asisat, but you assumed that she was as reserved as dr. graham hansen. dr. graham hansen always locked herself in her laboratory, she refused to leave the room until her work for the day was absolutely done and even by then she would still work away until the late night, or at least until dr. paredes came to relieve her of her duties.
you only knew what the woman looked like because her face was plastered on newspapers and advertisements around barcelona, but you have yet to see her in person. it makes you wonder what qualities asisat possesses to get to know such a socially off woman like dr. graham hansen. it was only the third week of your employment, so you knew you were bound to meet her eventually.
and by 'eventually', you weren't expecting to meet her now.
"I just need you to work with this young woman for the rest of the operation, which means you'll be working under the supervision of caroline." dr. paredes informed you as she read of a clipboard. "the patient is recovering from a traumatic car collision which brought damage to her..."
you completely blocked out any more words coming from the older woman's mouth. too focused on the fact that dr. graham hansen was now your field supervisor to listen. a few thoughts ran through your head as you struggled to process the given information.
"what if she's strict? what if she's a bitch? does she know that i'm not as experienced in the same field? what if i make a mistake? will she report me? will she berate me? does she even talk? will she just ignore me the entire time?"
"nurse." you hear paredes address you firmly.
you snap out of your thoughts immediately. "yes?"
dr. paredes gives you a pointed look. you feel your insides turn a bit. dr. paredes softens her gaze a bit before gesturing over to graham hansen, who leaned against the door frame of her office, staring down at you like you were a child in need of discipline.
"please sign your name here and follow caroline to operation room 7." she hands out a pen to you. in your perpheral vision, you can see that dr. graham hansen had already made her way down the hall to operation room 7.
you signed your name and quickly followed after the surgeon, not exactly feeling great about how you presented yourself in front of two women who could possibly end your career.
the moment you arrived, you already saw dr. graham hansen hard at work. you applauded her mentally for her dedication to her job. you took a glance over at the victim on the hospital bed; a teenage girl with brown skin and braided hair tied back into a ponytail. you took a closer look at her and saw no significant damages, a few scars and bruises here and there, but nothing that gave a clue that she was in a car crash.
"her vitals have already been checked. go sit in the corner." dr. graham hansen commanded without taking her eyes off the x-ray screen.
your body stilled a bit, but you followed her orders regardless. you watched caroline look through autopsy reports and other medical files, feeling absolutely useless in this whole ordeal.
"vitals have been taken, bloods have been drawn, x-rays have been performed, and a bodily clean up has already been done. why am I here exactly?" you think to yourself. you think a little more before coming to the conclusion that you're an assistant nurse, which means you'll be assisting the surgeon rather than the patient.
this made you furious because you absolutely hated being an assistant nurse. it was an insult to your career and to your image. while you could be doing your actual job, you're sitting in the corner like a child while you wait for someone (who's actually doing their job) to give you an order, like getting her a bottle of water or something.
you were going to speak up, but caroline had reached for the hospital phone and dialed four numbers before turning her back to you. you waited anxiously as the phone rang against caroline's ear. someone eventually picked up.
"asisat, can you bring me a book to 7?" caroline requests as she continued typing away. "bring a self-help book. like one of those 'self-improvement' ones and maybe another one in the feminine literature genre. thank you."
dr. graham hansen set the phone back into the holder then went back to work. you were contemplating asking her if she needed anything, but you didn't want to leave the room before getting to meet asisat. after three minutes of silence (aside from the light taping of the keys), there was a knock at the door.
"enter." dr. graham hansen commanded plainly.
you were hoping to meet osho, but the door opened to reveal dr. putellas. you and dr. graham hansen were perplexed to see the tall woman at the door. dr. putellas looked down at you with a frown before shifting her gaze back to the woman occupied by the screen in front of her.
"you are quite a selfish woman, caroline." dr. putellas spat out nonchalantly. your eyes widened and the typing came to a halt. dr. putellas didn't care whatsoever. "this woman could be doing her job and you're keeping her hostage for the next six hours. you always do that and it's shameful."
dr. graham hansen glared at the latter through her reflection on the computer screen. "i don't always do that. irene grabs random nurses and attaches them to me. i'm completely independent."
"then you should tell irene to stop." dr. putellas responded.
"you think i didn't already?"
"no i don't think you did. you're incapable of basic socialization."
dr. graham hansen growled. "i remember telling asisat to bring the books, not you."
dr. putellas crossed her arms. "you did, but I knew those books weren't for you, but rather one of your hostages."
"so your purpose here is?"
"to confront you, that's all. if you're not going to use her, then let her continue her work."
you were about to jump into the mix, but dr. graham hansen slammed her hand down on the desk.
"then why don't you go complain to irene instead and leave me the hell alone? she's free to walk out of this room whenever she wants. no one but her own consciousness is stopping her." dr. graham hansen snapped and whipped her chair around to face dr. putellas.
"what in the world is going on here?" you hear irene asked from out in the hall. you look out to see her standing alongside dr. frido and a short police officer, who you recognized as mariona.
dr. graham hansen glared at both you and dr. putellas then at paredes. "get this little girl and her white knight away from me."
irene looked between the three of you. she knew that both alexia and caroline had issues with each other, for what reason? she does not know.
she beckoned you out of the room. "frido, please take her to the children's unit and bring osho down." she looked at alexia with a disapproving glare. "ale, my office now."
dr. putellas smirked at you before making her exit. frido and mariona waited for you out in the hall. you looked back at dr. graham hansen and she had the look of murder in her orbs. you quickly left the room.
"what is their problem?" mariona broke the silence after a minute of walking. "this has been happening since caro joined us a few years ago. is ale.... jealous or something?"
frido shrugged. "i'm not sure. i talked to osho and she's not sure what the deal is either. might want to ask patri."
you kept your mouth shut the whole time. there have been major events here and there at the hospital, but this was probably the biggest you've experienced. to be at the center of the issue this time felt so surreal, to have two intelligent women fight 'over' you warmed your insides. it made you feel like you were the main character of a love drama of some sort.
#alexia putellas#alexia x reader#alexia putellas x reader#caroline graham hansen#caroline graham hansen x reader#barcelona femeni#barcelona femeni x reader#barca femeni#barca femini x reader#woso#woso community#woso x reader#woso imagine#woso fanfics#in sickness in health
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do you believe me now? | 5
in which spencer reid and fem!reader are reunited, but the worst kind of sparks are flying. you meet a man named randall. derek morgan buys you a drink (sort of). it seems that some things can't be unsaid.
part one | two | three | bonus chapter | four
this series is 18+
warnings/tags: r goes to a bar but doesn't drink alcohol, gets hit on by weird men, dramatic, angst, sorry in advance
a/n: surprise! i'll see myself out. love you! lmk your thoughts on this bad boy! i KNOW you'll have some! i'm locking all my doors and the cops are on speed dial after posting this. stay tuned for part six tho
You don’t call Spencer for four days.
Spencer doesn’t call you for four days.
It’s scary.
There’s some texting—mostly him giving you updates on how things are going and when he expects to be back. Mostly you giving the messages a thumbs up and saying nothing else.
Finally, on Thursday afternoon, his ringtone (the Bill Nye theme) makes you jump as you’re sitting on your bed staring into space.
His caller ID photo—which is simply his passport photo, because you’d thought it was adorable—stares at you. You stare back. Contemplate not picking up.
But you’re not quite there yet.
And you cannot keep listening to Bill Nye the Science Guy.
The answer button is cold under your thumb, but not as cold as your greeting.
“Hi.”
You barely recognize your own voice.
It seems to send Spencer for a loop as well, because his reply is halting.
“Hey! Hi, um—how are you? I feel like we’ve barely talked this week.”
That would be because you told me my feelings for you are stronger than your feelings for me and I don’t know how to stop making every single word I say secretly mean I love you. We can’t have a conversation without me loving you. It will always be in the room or on the phone with us. To ignore the presence of it is impossible, and I don’t know if I can ignore the absence of yours, either.
“Uh… yeah. I’m fine. What’s up?”
There’s a pause.
“We wrapped up this morning. We’re getting on the jet here in a few minutes, and, um—I know it’s not ideal, but we missed Derek’s birthday and Penelope is insisting we all go to his favorite bar tonight. And he told me that for his birthday he wants to meet you. So… would you be up for that?”
“You want… to take me to a bar?”
“No. I mean—I know it’s not really your thing, but we missed Derek’s birthday three years in a row, and—and I understand if you don’t want to meet him tonight, but we wouldn’t have to stay very long and I really, really shouldn’t skip it. Derek has saved my life on more than one occasion.”
“You could go without me.”
More silence. Every second hurts, but you don’t understand why he wants you to come meet his best friend if he thinks the two of you are in different places emotionally.
But maybe he’s not going to break up with you just yet. Maybe he’s going to keep inviting you to bars and foreign film festivals and bookshops. Maybe he’s going to treat you exactly the same as he always has but with this new added layer of knowledge that the way he treats you isn’t actually love, and it never was, and you’re not sure if it has the potential to ever become love. Because if it did—wouldn’t it have already? What more do you have to offer than what you’ve already given him?
Breakup or no breakup, you feel sick.
When he speaks his tone is similarly chilly. It’s welcome. You want him mad. If he can’t reciprocate your adoration, then the very least he can do is have the decency to reciprocate your reproach.
“I could. Is that what you want?”
No. I don’t want any of this. I need you to know me well enough to know that. And if you can’t love me then at least get angry. At least show me you feel something other than passive contentment.
“Yeah. Sure. I don’t know.”
A pause stretches so long your heart pounds. You watch the elapsed time of the call tick by, second by second, and you wait for the anticipation to crack under the weight of silence, to give way to some terrible jump scare or to give way at all.
But the words that end the conversation (if you can even call it that) aren’t any great relief. They’re just sad, and chalk full of defeat.
“Alright. I’ll… I’ll call you later.”
You feel like you’ve swallowed an ice cube. All the words you’d like to say are frozen in your stinging throat.
“Okay. Um… I’ll let you board now.”
“The jet’s not…” but he trails off. When he speaks again he sounds just as hurt as you’d wanted—and it doesn’t make you feel better at all. “Okay. Bye.”
“Bye.”
The line goes dead, and your face is burning as tears fill your eyes for the hundredth time this week. That call was terrible and poisonous and you don’t feel like yourself.
Things have gone so wrong so quickly, and all you know how to do is ice him out so he can’t do it to you first. But it’s not going to make this better. No matter how mean you are to him, at the root of it all you feel unloved and scared and alone and Spencer knows things about love and relationships that you don’t. He’s confusing you with all this talk of feeling differently about each other and I’ll be home tomorrow I miss you and things get complicated when one person likes the other more and let’s talk in person and will you come meet my best friend tonight. All of it leaves you motion sick and ugly crying in the fetal position.
All you have to get through this is who you’ve always been, a little of the person you’ve become, and the love you harbor for Spencer which rattles around in your chest like a nail in an empty toolbox. At the moment it hardly seems helpful. It mocks you, pointing out the pathetic hilarity of your paradox. The only person who can comfort you, the person you want more than anything, is the reason you’re so upset in the first place. But you can’t help being drawn to him.
Maybe the love you have for Spencer is more like a magnet in a compass.
Even if he doesn’t feel it for you, you do love Spencer. And that goes beyond just loving the parts of him that like you. To hide from that love would be a gross disservice to yourself and all the work you’ve done to get here. It’s not as if you suddenly know exactly what the answer is—but you’re sure that hiding is the most childish, cowardly thing you could do and the furthest you could get from a resolution. Even if you can’t make him love you back, you refuse to allow yourself to fizzle quietly out of his life. This relationship deserves something more than that.
So maybe you don’t have a plan when you wipe your eyes and pick up your phone. Maybe there’s no strategy behind your actions as you text Garcia for the bar location. But if you keep running from everything you’ll never get anywhere. All you can do is show up. It seems like the next best step.
------
The pub isn’t too crowded—but for a Thursday night, you suppose it’s a bit busy.
Boot heels hooked onto the metal foot-beam of the stool you’re sitting on, elbows resting on the polished mahogany surface of the bar, you’re staring into an untouched mixed drink. Then you glance down the bar to your right, at the man who’d bought it for you.
Maybe your ensemble gave him the wrong idea.
Coming to this gathering had required bravery, and you came armored. Your ensemble projects significantly more confidence than you’re currently feeling. It was intentional, a form of self-protection—but now you’re wondering if it’s projecting a little too much confidence.
All done up, clearly still a little rough around the edges, and sitting alone at a bar was bound to draw the wrong pairs of eyes.
“Hey, darlin’,” the gruff man says, approaching when you inadvertently catch his gaze. “Are you gonna drink that, or should I? Otherwise I’m lookin’ at eleven dollars right down the drain.”
You avert your eyes, scanning the groups dotted here and there.
“I’m waiting for friends.”
“Does that make a free drink less appealing?”
He takes the stool next to you, off-gassing the scent of cigarettes and leather.
“I’m not drinking.”
“Really? I’ve never seen a girl who looks as sad as you do come sit at the bar to stay sober.”
You frown, looking back up at the man next to you. He seems like the Hell’s Angels type—tattooed knuckles, leather jacket, grey beard, and a weathered face that’s clearly spent decades with the sun. Fifties, maybe younger and just looks more rugged. What does it say about how I look tonight that this is the kind of man I’m attracting, you wonder. Maybe you look desperate and just as lonely as you feel. As he claims you do.
“I’m not sad.”
“Alright. I’ll take your word for it. But a happier girl wouldn’t be all alone.”
“I’m waiting for friends,” you repeat, letting the words drip like venom from your tongue.
“I’m Randall. See? Now we're friends.”
“I don’t need more friends. I like the ones I have.”
Something catches Randall’s attention long enough to catch yours. He raises his bottle vaguely, gesturing beyond your shoulder.
“Are those angry lookin’ guys in the suits marching right over here the friends you’re talking about?”
You turn your head, brows furrowed, and immediately see the gentlemen to whom your new pal is pointing out.
Spencer is storming across the bar looking close to furious (which for him, means an expression so placid it gives you chills) followed by Derek Morgan—a man who you’ve only seen pictures of and is even more impressive in person.
You hate how your breath catches, how your heart is already beating a little faster than usual at the sight of him even though you’re not exactly pleased with each other right now.
Suddenly the bubbles in your cocktail are once again fascinating.
“Those are the ones.”
“And why are they dressed for church?”
Church?
“They’re FBI.”
“Ah. My lucky fuckin’ day.”
You almost snort.
“Hey,” Spencer says sternly, hand settling on your back as he partially fills the small space between you and the strange man. “Who’s this?”
You shrug, sit up a little straighter, and take a shallow breath—not because you’re scared of this man but because Spencer is suddenly so close to you and you can feel his warmth and the air bending around him and the scent of him is genuinely dizzying to you.
“Randall,” you exhale unenthusiastically. But the odd thing is that you’re rather grateful for Randall’s presence. Because now Spencer is here and you have no idea what you’re going to say to him.
“Oh,” Randall says, sipping his beer unhurriedly before using it to gesture to Spencer. “You’re the boyfriend. You know, that’s funny, because she didn’t mention a boyfriend.”
“I didn’t mention anything. We weren’t having a real conversation.”
Randy holds his hands up defensively, fingers still wrapped around the neck of a sweating bottle.
“I’m just saying it’s in-ter-esting. Not trying to start anything.” He stands, pauses for another sip—Spencer obviously isn’t sure what to make of this man because he says nothing. “But listen, man to man—you better buy her some flowers or a real pretty fuckin’ necklace or somethin’ because a happy girl in a happy relationship does not come pout at the bar all by herself.”
“Get out of here, man,” Derek finally speaks up.
“Yeah, yeah.” He sets his empty bottle down and fishes in his pocket for a cigarette, sticking it between his lips. “But—just for the record—I have a wife. I wasn’t gonna do anything weird. Sometimes when you’re my age you just gotta live a little. Buy a pretty girl a drink. Piss off some Mormons, or whatever the fuck you are.”
This guy sounds like a bad Bruce Springsteen song. But part of you would almost rather hang out with Randall than be forced into a conversation you’re not prepared for with Spencer.
And whose fault is that, you remind yourself. You decided to come be mature. Suck it up.
“Goodnight,” Derek emphasizes.
Spencer doesn’t say a word. You can feel his eyes boring smoking holes into the side of your face, and you look anywhere else.
“I’ll be here next week after physical therapy like clockwork,” the stranger waves as he ambles away—but not before pointing at you. “You enjoy that drink, friend. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
What a weird man.
There’s silence for a moment—in which Spencer refuses to stop watching you and you refuse to acknowledge that.
“And here I was thinking Spencer made you up.” Derek has a beautiful smile and a warm, charming cadence as he holds out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Derek.”
You take the proffered hand and shake, offering him a shy smile and introducing yourself in kind.
“Happy birthday, by the way. Sorry for crashing your party.”
Really, he’s stunning.
“Thank you, sweetheart. And you’re not crashing anything. I told pretty boy here I wanted to meet you the second he started talking about a friend. But nah, he just wanted to talk and talk and talk about you—”
“Alright,” Spencer mumbles, blushing, eyes finally torn from your profile. You smile slightly, brows knitting as Derek magically melts some of the terrible tension.
“Pretty boy?”
Before either of them can explain, someone shrieks in your general direction. You startle backward in your seat, and Spencer steps closer, hand sliding up your back as Penelope, JJ, and Emily join your little huddle. For only a second you allow yourself to shrink into him—before you’re straightening your posture like your spine is a metal rod and his touch burns. It’s a knee-jerk defensive reaction for which you have no explanation. You can’t see him, but you don’t feel his hand on you again.
“Oh my god! Look at this beautiful person who I love!” Penelope exclaims, pushing past Derek to grab your face and kiss both of your cheeks. “Oh my god,” she says again, wiping sticky lipgloss away with her thumbs, “I totally meant to ask before I did that. But your face is just so kissable. I’m so glad you decided to come!”
“Hi, Penelope,” you smile half-heartedly, incapable of reciprocating her cheery mood. Fortunately, she’s cheery enough for a standard commercial flight’s worth of people, and probably thinks of Derek’s birthday as a national holiday—so she doesn’t pick up on this.
Emily and JJ offer you tamer although perfectly kind greetings.
“Ooh, what are you drinking?” Emily asks, leaning closer to examine the forgotten beverage in front of you.
“Not that,” Spencer mutters, grabbing the glass and sliding it away from you. You give him an affronted look—and immediately wish you hadn’t, since you’re meeting his eyes for the first time since he left. His words stall for just a moment as his eyes dart between yours before he’s saying, “you shouldn’t accept a drink if you didn’t watch someone make it.”
The audacity of him to be acting protective makes you scoff.
“That guy didn’t spike my drink. He was harmless.”
“People thought Ted Bundy was harmless, too.”
It’s such a ridiculous thing to say that you don’t even have a response—your eyes simply narrow and you shake your head. A claustrophobic silence falls over the small group.
“Okay…” JJ murmurs. “Um, do you guys want to go check out the jukebox with me? We have to play all of the birthday boy’s favorites.”
Several enthusiastic yeses go around, but you’re too busy having a stand off with your boyfriend to take much notice.
Soon, it’s just the two of you.
“Controlling isn’t a good look for you,” you finally say, spinning to rest your elbows on the bar once more and studying the bottles of liquor on the shelves beyond.
“Evasive and avoidant isn’t particularly flattering, either. I was under the impression that you had no intention of coming after that phone call earlier.”
You scoff again as your blood heats. Already the conversation is going worse than you’d expected—and your expectations were not high.
“Do you think the cab driver was a serial killer, too? Or maybe the bartender?”
He’s still behind you and slightly to the side—but he leans down, resting his own fists on the bar right next to you and speaking lowly, directly over your shoulder.
“Why don’t you try speaking to me like we’re adults instead of starting meaningless arguments in order to get under my skin?”
From him, that hurts.
It’s a branch on the tree of your greatest insecurity—the fear that you’re too inexperienced with relationships and that makes you too immature and he’s been lying every time he says it’s not an issue. Because of course it’s an issue. It’s why you fell in love with him, it’s why you don’t know how to fix it, and it’s why you’re incapable of actually expressing any of your feelings to him.
“Why do you think I’m here right now?” you whisper—as sharp and stinging as a poison dart. “I’m trying to be a fucking adult. I don’t want to be here.”
Silence.
“Then why did you come?”
His voice is so calm it burns like dry ice.
“Because! Because you asked me to, because—”
You can’t bring yourself to say it aloud.
Because I’m obviously still in love with you and I can’t just turn that off. I tried to do the right thing.
Instead you bury your face in your hands and let it hang in the air, unspoken. You know he knows. You just don’t know why he’s acting like you’re so unreasonable for being upset.
“Let me make this very clear to you,” Spencer murmurs, brushing your hair away from your ear so tenderly, speaking so softly you could convince yourself that he’ll say something kind. It’s the closest he’s been in days and now that he’s here you feel how much you missed him in your bones. And even though you sense a trap, you can’t help but sit up straighter. You’ll be complicit in your own undoing if it means you can have him close. His breath shakes slightly as he inhales and you brace as best you can. “Nobody is forcing you to be here. You told me you weren’t coming and then you decided to show up. I was ready to give you the space that you were too scared to ask me for. But I can only take responsibility for so much of what is ultimately your bad behavior and your adolescent volatility. You can only blame so much of your bad behavior on inexperience before I run out of patience because I don’t find thoughtlessness and emotional immaturity compelling. I told you that if there is a disparity in the way we feel for each other, that was fine, and I meant it. But if you can’t cope with how I feel about you then don’t let me hold you back. I am not holding you hostage. You can leave whenever you want. So don’t waste your time punishing me because you don’t want to be here. And if you do want to be here, good. I want that too. But act like an adult and make a decision. My leniency has limits, even for you. I am asking that you do not push it any further than you already have.”
You don’t know how long it’s been since your last breath by the time he finishes his address.
Long enough that you’re dizzy when you push away from the bar and shoulder through the throng of patrons as quickly as you reasonably can without outright running.
Long enough that when you burst out the door into the biting-cold night air, and finally take a deep, gasping breath, it burns and stings and aches and so does your head and your eyes as they well with hot, furious, heartbroken tears.
You speed-walk to the end of the block, hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your cries and all the curse words you’d love to scream.
Part of you knows you walked away from the bar in case he decided to try and follow you—but when you look over your shoulder the sidewalk is empty. You should’ve known better than to think he’d follow you after that. But at least it means you can have your breakdown by the relative safety of the bar, leaning your back against the dirty brick facade next to the entrance alcove and sliding down until your butt hits the cold concrete and you don’t even care.
Who the fuck was that man in the bar who looked like Spencer and sounded like Spencer but spoke to you like this is all your fault, like it’s your fault you love him and he doesn’t love you back, like it’s ridiculous that you’d be upset, like you’re cruel and petty for having feelings about it, about him—for having any fucking feelings at all? And to think that was the man who you let know you more intimately than anyone ever has. Every insecurity you’d ever admitted to him was hurled back in your face like it was nothing. Hell—he even handed you the ones you’d never mentioned. He proved every terrible thought you’ve been having about yourself right.
How could he be so unabashedly mean to you?
Spencer doesn’t have to love you. It seems clearer now than ever that he doesn’t. But part of you wonders if he suffered some sort of traumatic brain injury because that’s the only explanation for why he could go from treating you how he did before to treating you like he doesn’t even like you.
You feel like you might throw up.
“Called it,” a rasping, grumbling voice says from a few feet away.
You look up, and spot fucking Randall standing under a street light ten feet away, still smoking.
You go back to studying the tar spots on the sidewalk through bleary eyes. Pebbles sting as they press into your palms. Another one of the universe’s terrible jokes, you suppose. Just earlier you’d thought that you’d rather talk to Randall than Spencer and now here you are and here he is.
“That kid as much of a dipshit punk as I thought he was?”
Hearing Spencer described as a kid and a dipshit punk is so jarring you almost stop crying.
“He’s not a dipshit,” you sniff, voice thick with tears as you find yourself explaining Spencer Reid to this stranger for no reason at all. “He has an IQ of 187. He’s a genius.”
“Ah,” he scoffs dismissively, flicking ash from his cigarette. “Dipshit-ism don’t discriminate. Anyone can be one. Even your genius punk boyfriend. As a recovering dipshit myself I know what the work of a fellow dipshit looks like. And this has dipshit written all over it.”
You sob harder.
Randall speaks calmly around his cigarette.
“You know, I’m sorry for whatever you got goin’ on. But I’ve never not been the asshole when I got a hysterical woman in front of me. It’s nice that I can confidently say this time it is not my fault.”
The bar door opens, letting a warm burst of jovial music and chatter into the otherwise still night. Steps that are too heavy to be Spencer’s hit the concrete next to you—you look to your left and see Derek Morgan before he looks down and sees you.
“Hey—you okay out here?”
“Why don’t you go ask your Jehovah’s Witness buddy? He did this.”
Derek makes a face, locating the source of this interjection.
“Sir, I asked you to leave her alone once and I don’t appreciate being made to repeat myself. Are we clear?”
“Yeah, whatever. Fuck me for making friendly conversation, I guess. Gonna have to call my wife and tell her to pick me up down the street. I don’t want her on the damn phone while she’s driving.”
Randall wanders away again, still muttering to himself and smoking. Derek watches him go, staring daggers into his back until he turns his gaze to you.
Goodbye, Randall, you think. Great. Now I have neither of them.
“Hey,” he softens, crouching down to your level. “You okay?”
You sniff, wiping your cheeks and attempting not to smudge your makeup. It’s impossible not to feel awkward—you just met this guy and now he’s here trying to do emotional labor for you on his birthday.
“Yeah, I’m fine. This is embarrassing.”
“You don’t look fine. Can I do anything for you? Do you want some food? A drink?”
“You really don’t have to—”
“I know, I know. But look—Reid is always talking about you. You’re important to him, and he’s important to me. I’ve never seen him this happy and I’ve known that kid a long time. It is in my best interest that someone maintain you, and if it’s not him, it’ll be me. Call it a favor to him, if that makes you feel better.” Derek is sporting a slightly more modest Cheshire grin again by the end of his sentence. Listening to him speak that way about Spencer speaking about you, it’s impossible not to feel a teeny bit lighter. Even if you’re not entirely sure where you stand on all things Spencer related at the moment. “So I’ll ask you again. Is there anything I can do for you?”
You sniff again.
“Sure. A ginger ale or something might be good.”
“Got it. I’ll be back. And come inside if Randall tries to run up on you again, okay?”
Despite yourself you manage a laugh at the way he says the name. His warm smile flickers warmer at this.
“Will do.”
When Derek returns a few minutes later, the plastic cup he’s holding looks decidedly not like ginger ale.
“Penelope insisted that this is what you would want. I don’t even know.”
You smile slightly as you take the cup, full to the brim with bubbles and thick red syrup. A cherry bobs underneath the layer of cubed ice.
“Shirley temple,” you chuckle. “I’ll take it. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome,” he says, flashing that brilliant smile again, and you look into your cup as you drink. Maybe your face warms just a bit. You’re still shy around men, you realize. Especially attractive ones. And Derek Morgan definitely qualifies as attractive.
“So,” he begins, and to your surprise, crouches down in front of you. “I have to be honest—I came out here in the first place because Reid sent me to check on you. But now I’m wondering what the hell he did.”
Spencer sent him. A considerate action that would theoretically signal his care for your feelings. You take another sip, staring into space and trying to digest this information, but it only jumbles with the rest to confuse you more.
Of course, you don’t know how to convey this to Derek in a way that’s not overly-familiar for just having met the man, so you go with an old standby.
“I’m probably just overreacting.”
“Uh-huh. I have sisters. I know what an overreaction looks like and if you were overreacting you wouldn’t be out here hiding. What’d he do?”
You can only keep up the facade of emotional stability for so long. Your chin wobbles in a horribly embarrassing way and you look down again.
“I’m not sure—I’m not sure if he really did anything or if I’m just being dramatic and I don’t want to make him seem—”
“Why don’t you stop defending him and just tell me what he did?” Derek urges. “Trust me—I love that kid to death. But I also know he can be a dick sometimes. You don’t need to worry about making him look bad in front of me.”
Part of you is glad Spencer has such a good friend on his side. And Derek is right—Spencer is an adult. You don’t need to worry about besmirching his reputation. So you take a shuddering sigh, staring into the red of your drink.
“He just doesn’t like me as much as I like him. Which isn’t his fault, like I said, but—he’s being such an asshole about it.”
Derek pulls a face, strong eyebrows making an impression as they knit.
“Did he tell you that?”
“Over the phone,” you nod emphatically. “And just now he gave me this whole fucking speech about how immature and horrible I am for not being 100% happy about it. And maybe he’s partially right, I mean—I know people feel things differently and maybe he just was asking for more time. I worry I fucked it up so bad because I couldn’t handle that—but at the same time he didn’t say he wanted more time. He was really fucking unclear and vague about what he wanted, and he asked me to come to this bar like it was nothing when I’ve been worried he was going to break up with me all week. So yeah, I guess he’s right and I have been a bitch about it because I was upset that he didn’t… like me as much. And I wanted him to feel bad because I was so embarrassed, and I also didn’t want to act like everything was normal if he was just going to dump me, I…” you realize you’ve been hardcore rambling and your face heats. “I don’t know.”
There’s a pause, and you worry you’ve done exactly the thing you didn’t want to, which was overshare to this man who seems like he’s significantly more normal and well-adjusted than you. You drink deeply, swallowing sugar and the rest of your words.
“That’s… bizarre. I don’t mean to invalidate your feelings, but… that just doesn’t make any sense.”
“Yeah,” you scoff, projecting annoyance so you won’t start crying again. “I was confused too. I thought he really liked me.”
“No, sweetheart, I’m saying—that doesn’t make sense because he does really like you. Really, really likes you, more than I’ve ever seen him like someone before. I mean, last week I finally finished that Tesla biography he’s been on my ass about for months and when I told him, all he wanted to do was talk about your thoughts on it. And then it wasn’t even about the book anymore. I have never, ever seen Reid pass up an opportunity to talk about Nikola Tesla. I’m talking never in my life. He finds a way to make every conversation about you. I can’t even follow the connections sometimes but he always finds a way.”
Your nose wrinkles.
“Sorry you’ve had to hear so much about me,” you mumble. Though you’re not really sorry. It feels good. A twinge of joy in all the murk.
“I’m not. Like I said, I’ve known Spencer for a long time and I’ve never seen him this happy. I’m not about to let him fuck it up.”
“If I make him so happy then why did he tell me we don’t feel the same?” you whisper, reaching into the puddle of syrup and ice at the bottom of your now empty cup.
“Is that exactly what he said?” Derek asks, after a long pause. You bite the maraschino cherry off the stem and nod morosely, grinding a long-gone stranger’s cigarette butt with your boot just to crush something. There’s another beat of silence. “Alright. You know what I think?”
You raise your head to meet his gaze, your own wide-eyed and expectant.
“I think you two need to have an honest conversation. You’re both confused and hurting—I promise Spencer is feeling it too. If you talk to him he won’t be unkind to you.”
“He already was,” you admit.
“I apologize if I’m out of line here, but you just told me you’ve been icing him out all week because you want him to feel bad. I’m willing to bet you don’t realize how sharp these claws are.” Derek grabs your hand as he says it and you marvel at how much he is the opposite of you. Everything he does and says seems so natural and reasonable and charming even if it would piss you off from anyone else—and you just met the guy. You can see why Spencer and Penelope speak so highly of him. “I think you’ve probably both had your moments these past few days. But that doesn’t mean neither of you deserve any more chances.”
He puts your hand back on your knee and pats it.
“Besides, Spencer‘s not good at mean. I bet he’s inside worrying himself sick over whatever dumb shit he said to you. He’s probably hyperventilating as we speak.”
“It was really out of character for him,” you concede.
“Yeah. He’ll be apologizing for a long while. It will get annoying. But he sure as hell won’t be doing it again, I can tell you that much. If he does, let me know. Emily and I will whoop his ass and call it a fitness evaluation.”
“I think that’ll be unnecessary,” you laugh thickly, pulling your sleeve over your hand and wiping away the few tears that haven’t quite dried. “But thank you.”
“Anytime. Now, it’s my birthday, and as a grown man I should not be getting involved in someone else’s relationship drama. I was supposed to be on the dance floor a while ago.” His tone is so warm and sugary by the time he finishes it could rot his perfect grin. It’s futile to hide the way your mouth twists into a reluctant smile as you look down and fix your hair—praying he can’t tell how fazed you are by his kindness. “You’re going to talk to him, right?”
“I’ll—yeah. Right,” you say quietly. But the sinking feeling in your stomach knows it’s a thing easier said than done.
“Good,” Derek grunts, taking your empty cup before pushing himself back up to his feet and offering you a hand. “Do you want me to send him out here or do you want to come find him inside?”
You balk.
“Like—right now? I have to talk to him now?”
Before he can give you an answer you think you’d rather not have, the bar door is opening. From your spot you can’t see who it is right away, but Derek turns over his shoulder and does a double take before looking back at you.
Spencer steps out onto the sidewalk, eyes scanning for until he realizes you’re a few feet shorter than usual. Sitting on a filthy public walkway is probably his worst nightmare, you realize, as you scramble to your feet and dust the crumbs of concrete from your palms against the back of your cold jeans. He begins to say your name, and it sounds like relief and regret, but you stop him.
“I have to go wash my hands.”
It’s monotonous and mumbled and comes out too quickly but you don’t have time to worry about that as you brush past both of the men on your way back into the bar, making an immediate beeline for the bathroom.
Your face burns with anxiety as you shut the door behind you, immediately drowning in the yellowish lighting which is so harsh but seems to illuminate almost nothing. Who paints a bathroom red? It’s suffocating. You feel like you’re inside an aorta.
Water runs cool over your hands as you sniffle, rinsing the bits of dirt from red indents made by pebbles and things, and the soap is too floral and powdery but you wash twice anyway. Maybe you’ll just stay in here and wash your hands forever.
There’s a light knock on the shiny wooden door and it makes you jump. Your name is muffled from the other side.
“You in there?”
Quickly you wipe under your reddened eyes in the mirror, trying to fix the slightly smudged makeup.
The door opens when you don’t respond, and there’s Spencer, looking weary and tense all at once. Is that your fault?
“Hey,” you sniff, trying to effect casualness, but it comes out too quickly and your posture is too stiff. Under his all-seeing gaze you cross and uncross your arms, look at him and look away. Your hands end up in your pockets. He’d say crossed arms are a sign of self-soothing.
“Hey.” His is more measured, and of course makes you feel embarrassed in comparison. The door swings shut behind him as he enters the small room and makes it feel that much smaller. “Are you… hiding from me in here?”
Yes.
The graffitied toilet stalls to your left suddenly look fascinating.
“Nope. Just washing my hands.”
This is not what Derek told you to do, you scold yourself internally. Stop being so scared. Be honest with him.
Silence rings. All the brutally honest things you’d like to say choke you until your throat hurts and your eyes get hot. Yet again you feel like a stupid little girl who’s too emotional to communicate.
You cross your arms. It’s an indulgence you feel you’re owed.
Spencer says your name again and it’s too much. He never says it this often. When he does it feels good but now it’s too formal, makes you too aware of your own inadequacy, and how he must be seeing you—a wraith of a girl in a dingy bar bathroom with clammy hands and smudged eyeliner, practically shaking with fear under an unforgiving light. Someone who is too scared and much too sensitive.
Spencer attempts to speak again.
“What I said before, it was—”
“Can you just take me home?”
It comes out on one exhalation and seems to stall him with all the effectiveness of a slap to the face.
You don’t know where it comes from, either.
Easier said than done, you’d thought a few moments ago. All the bravery Derek had tried to instill in you is gone, swallowed down the drain like soap scum. And now you’re choosing to let your fear win—because at least that’s a known quantity. The fear will never reject you. It will always be waiting with open arms.
Too scared.
The end feels imminent. You try to press yourself back together, fingernails biting into palms, trying to make something feel more tangible than the terrible knowingness that you’re careening toward an end which was supposed to be a beginning. It’s stifling and you wonder if Spencer is breathing it too.
You can’t look at his face, but you watch him pocket his hands in his pants and there is so much impossible space between you in such a tiny room.
“Yeah. I can.”
Something breaks. It’s small, and without fanfare. But it feels final.
It’s just a ride home. Just a ride home.
That’s all you have left, and you don’t know how you know it but you do.
Something so important is being left in this stupid, dingy bathroom. Something that was at one point beautiful and shiny and so arrogant in its newness that it seemed it would never become ugly. And now you’re abandoning it without dignity on the chipped tile floor and in the cobwebs on the walls. It was bigger than you, it was you—and now it’s going to be nothing.
A vehicle honks on the street. A boisterous group laugh explodes somewhere beyond the door. Water drips from a faucet.
“I’ll… I’ll bring my car around.”
“Okay.”
But he just stands there for another moment. Like he can’t get himself to move.
If only time would freeze before he could walk away.
But it doesn’t.
He sucks in a decisive breath.
“Okay,” he murmurs.
It’s that fucking phone call all over again.
Then he spins on his heels and leaves you there.
Your time is up.
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid smut#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine
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summary : art and reader come back at the hotel after he lost another match
warning/content : sfw, fluff, gn!reader, kissing, just the reader reassuring art
word count : 445
“You did a great match Art,” you reassure him. “You cannot always win, and it’s okay.” Actually, it has been some time since Art has won a match, but it really doesn’t matter to you. You’ll always support him because you know he's, in fact, an amazing tennis player.
Art doesn’t respond to you, doesn’t even look at you, and goes straight to your hotel room. What disturbs you the most is the fact that he did not want to see your daughter before going to bed, which is something he always does. You open the door of your shared bedroom to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, his head buried in his hands. You approached him quietly. “Art I-,”
“I’m deeply sorry, Y/N,” he interrupts you. “I thought I could do it, but all these matches I've lost made me realize I was just a failure.” He looks at the floor saying all this. The words he just said make your heart sink, how can he think that of himself?
You sit next to him and hold his hands. “Baby, I don’t want you to think that of yourself,” you say “Please look at me, baby.” you ask him, because you wanted him to see how much you loved him. When he finally looks up at you, you see tears running down his cheeks. Your heart sinks at the sight of his tear-streaked face.
“Art,” you whisper, gently placing a hand on his face. He looks at you, his expression a mixture of defeat and sadness. Without a word, you wrap your arms around him in a comforting embrace. “Art, don’t beat yourself up, you played your heart out there.” Art leans into your embrace, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. “I just…I wanted it so badly, I always play my matches for you,” he admits, his voice shaking and thick with emotion.
You hold him tighter, your heart breaking for him. “I know baby,” you say softly, “But you gave it all on the court, and that’s all anyone could ask for.” For a moment, you guys sit in silence, the only sound being the steady sound of Art’s breathing. As Art’s sobs slowly stop, he pulls away from your embrace, whipping his eyes with the back of his hand.
Art gaze intensifies, his eyes locking with yours in a silent acknowledgment of your shared vulnerability. In that shared moment, the air between you crackled with unspoken desire. Without a word, Art leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender yet passionate kiss, his love for you expressed in the warmth and intimacy of the moment you guys just shared.
a/n ; i just wanna say that english is not my main language so i'm sorry if there is any grammar mistake :) i might also write a part 2 where Y/N and Art are doing spicy stuff but idk
#challengers#art donaldson#challengers 2024#challengers movie#mike faist#tashi duncan#tashi donaldson#josh o'connor#zendaya#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x you#art donaldson imagine#art donaldson challengers#art donaldson smut#mike faist x reader#challengers spoilers#x you fluff#x reader#fluff#smut#art x reader#art x patrick#fanfic
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Embracing Truth ; Paige Bueckers ┈﹒
꣑୧ — summary | paige helps her gf come out of the closet 💐💌❤️
wc ; 870
— warnings | smalll hints of homophobia , anxiety related topics , mainly fluff + established relationship
my master list ㇀♡
1) i am sooo sorry for not responding to ur request anon! I accidentally deleted it from my drafts :(
a/n : this was so sweet and cute to write 🥰 this definitely healed something in me. Enjoy ◡̈
Paige sat on the edge of the bed, watching as her girlfriend, y/n, paced nervously back and forth between the blondes dorm. She could tell something was weighing heavily on your mind, and her instincts told her it was something serious.
You and Paige had been dating since your second year of college, meeting during one of your shared classes. You knew you had always been into girls, often experimenting with them in highschool. But there was one problem, your parents didn't know.
They weren't necessarily homophobic per say, but to be fair the conversation of you being gay never was a topic of conversation. But the idea of one day having to tell them terrified you, especially since you knew the relationship with your girlfriend was becoming serious.
“Y/n, what's wrong?” Paige asks, snapping you out of your thoughts as she stood up and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder to stop your pacing.
You took a deep breath, looking up at your girlfriend with tears welled in your eyes managing to croak out , “I don't know Paige, I really need to tell my parents… I need to tell them about us. But I'm just afraid that they won't accept me, accept us. What if they kick me out? Disown me??”
Paige’s heart ached at the sudden fear that lingered in your voice, as she pulled you into a warm, comforting hug, holding you tightly. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. I’ll be right by your side every step of the way. We’ll get through this together, I promise.”
You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you, knowing that Paige would be there for you, and be by your side. “Okay,” you whispered, “Okay, let’s do this.”
A few days had passed since you had the conversation with your girlfriend, part of you wanted to procrastinate for as long as possible, because they would eventually find out regardless of when they were told. But your subconscious knew that now was the time, especially since you were serious about the blonde. You had to embrace the truth, your truth.
You and Paige drove over to your parents house one Friday evening, in the hopes of possibly sharing this important news over dinner. You were a bundle of nerves, but the blonde held your hand reassuringly as the two of you began to walk towards the front door. You took a pause, hesitating to ring the doorbell , after gathering your thoughts, you gently pressed on the round button in front of you, revealing a small chime in reply. You were soon greeted by your parents, who were surprised but happy to see them.
“y/n, Paige, what brings you here?” your mother chirps. Hugging the both of you before inviting you two inside.
As you walked through your house, skimming past the dining room and making your way towards the living room, you plopped down on the couch before breaking the silence, “We have something we need to talk to you both about” your voice trembling slightly.
Once the rest of them had joined you on the couch and surrounding seats, you took a deep breath and began to speak again. “Mom, Dad, you know how I’ve known Paige since freshman year of highschool? And how we’ve spent a lot of time with each other since then..” the two of them nodded in response before you continued, “well.. I realized that I like her more than a friend way. What I’m trying to say- I’m saying is that I’m with Paige. Like we’re dating..” your voice trailing off before facing them both in the eye, as your eyes had been previously wandering and focusing on different objects in the area. “Im gay.”
There was a brief moment of silence as your parents processed the information. You feared the absolute worst as the seconds of silence passed by, but then you mom spoke up, her voice filled with love and acceptance. “Sweetheart, we love you no matter what. We just want you to be happy.”
You couldn't hold back your tears as you hugged them both, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief and gratitude. Paige wrapped her arms around them all, feeling grateful to be a part of such a loving and accepting family.
After the initial shock wore off, your parents welcomed Paige with open arms, eager to get to know her now officially as their daughter's girlfriend. You all spent the evening talking and laughing, and you couldn't have felt more loved and accepted.
As the night came to a close, and as the both of you drove back to the blondes dorm, you couldn't stop smiling. Your heart was full of love for Paige and your family, as you squeezed her hand as a way to silently say I love you.
“I love you, P,” you whispered quietly, your voice filled with emotion. “I love you too, y/n” Paige replied, squeezing your hand back gently. “I'm so proud of you.”
And in that moment, that's when you knew that no matter what challenges you both faced in the future, as long as you had your girlfriend by your side, you could handle anything.
as always, thank you guys so much for reading!! don't forget to leave reqs :)
#wlw#wlw imagine#wcbb#my hcs#headcannons#paige bueckers#wcbb x reader#paige bueckers x reader#paige buckets#uconn women’s basketball#uconn huskies#wlw community#caitlin clark#caitlin clark x reader#iowa wbb#kate martin#uconn wbb
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Make him jealous ~
A/n: entirely self indulgent.
C/w: written by a minor!, porn with minimal plot, marking, nipple play, fingering, oral (r!receiving), kissing, praise, gentle, idfk.
2 weeks. That’s exactly how long it had been since your now ex had suddenly cut contact with you. A long relationship you poured your heart into for months, gone without a second though, leaving you void, unable to enjoy anything. It was like you were a shell of the fun loving person you used to be. The joy sucked out, and all that remained was a sad, confused girl who was all but betrayed by the man she loved the most.
You hardly made it through the day without tearing up atleast a little. Everything hurt. It hurt even more when your friend, shoko, has shown you photos of your ex and his new girl. Cuddling in bed, his arm around her waist it was sensual. Your frustrations came pouring out to her. It hurt that you meant so little to him, he could move on so quick, he wasn’t hurting like you were. You wanted him to care, to hurt, to be jealous.
The topic continued to your lunch break, where you met up with 2 more of your colleagues, Gojo and geto. Your frustration seemed to radiate to the rest of the group, the 3 of them vocalizing their distain for the man, that you deserve better, he deserves to hurt, it’s almost like they wanted him to suffer more than you. But in truth, you just wanted him to realize what he lost, to make him jealous.
The sexual tension was thick. Talking about how you needed someone to mark you up and post it on media, to be fucked till you forget, to feel loved again, right in front of your 3 friends, all eyeing you like hungry predators ready to devour their prey. They were so tired of seeing you sad, watching as you slowly lost motivation and will power for all the thighs you used to love. So if anyone was going to do something about it, let it be them. They will make you feel better, like friends do.
Eventually, Gojo took the initiative to finally offer up his services. “I mean, you know the three of us would be more than happy too, you just say the word it will all be yours~” you felt yourself twitch with excitement, almost like a fantasy, to be in between the most attractive people you know. It wasn’t just you, they wanted you too, maybe even more so. Anything for their dear friend.
Finally, the trio came to a plan. They were going to dress you up, take you out, feed you, and fuck you till you feel nothing but pleasure. Then hold you tight till you fall asleep together. It began Saturday morning, breakfast Gojo paid for. You ordered pancakes, that satoru ended up sneaking a few bites of. Next, you were off to the mall.
It was fun, riding the carousel, getting small snacks here and there, but the real event was when you made it over to a high end store with gorgeous dresses. The boys had ran off, but shoko kept her hand in yours guiding you through the store and picking out dresses for you to try. She even came in the changing room to help you sip them, and give you her opinion.
One thing lead to another, she found herself getting handsy with your delicate body, her hands that had previously helped you slip in and out of your clothes was now tracking down your abdomen and dangerously close to your heat, covered only by lacey panties. You gasped as she began toying with your clit through the fabric, her other hand coming up to cover your mouth. “You wouldn’t want to get caught right? Be a good girl and keep it down”, she’d whisper sensually in your ear.
Her words shot right down to your cunt, throbbing with need. She wasted no time to slip her long fingers inside the hem, now. Rubbing them along your slit, feeling your wetness. “Your so fucking wet, my fingers are drenched baby. I can tell you want this.” You felt your eyes roll back against your skull as she plunged two long fingers inside your hole, giving you only a moment to adjust before roughly curling them inside you repeatedly.
Her assault on your core had your legs weak, threatening to fall down. “Careful, baby.” As she helped you to the small chair, fingers still deep inside you. She moves her mouth to leave small love bites on your neck, proof of what the two of you had done in the dressing room. Your hands flew up to hold on her shoulders as you felt yourself reaching your high. “Are you close? Go on then. Let me feel you.”
Your legs shook as you came on her fingers, and your sounds where muffled by her hand covering your mouth. After you came down from your orgasm, dress long forgotten, you put your clothes back on and left with the dress that you and liked the most, face still red and flustered from your exchange in the dressing room. Shoko held your hand as you made your way back to the boys.
The marks on your neck where painfully present, “with out me?” Gojo whined, earning him a smack on the side from geto. “Today isn’t about you, satoru. Anyway, shall we, princess?” His gaze, now back on you offering a gentle hand as you continued your day, until yourself and the trio made your way to the club. After sitting at the bar for a minute, drink in hand you made your way to the floor with the boys, shoko content with her drink.
You were face to face with Gojo, and his hand caressed your face. “You look so beautiful tonight, you know that?” Brushing the hair of your face with his fingers. You giggled and thanked him. He grabbed your chin, and leaned down into your ear, “I can’t wait to show you just how beautiful I think you are~” you felt shivers run up your spine, ones that where only exemplified as you felt a second pair of hands meet on your hips, getos face on the other side of your face behind you.
You were sandwiched between the two large men, you felt your heart facing. There hands roamed your body as much as public decency would allow them, peppering you with gentle kisses on your jawline and collar. As the night went on, the two men could feel themselves losing restraint, shoko getting needy as well. And after a few hours, they escorted you back to the car where the three of you arrived at the closest house, gojos, and hurried inside.
As soon as all of you stepped in, Gojos lips where immediately on yours, practically moaning into your mouth. Geto pulled him off, “let’s take this upstairs. Tonight is all about you, baby.” He picked you up bridal style the other two close behind, and paced to the master bedroom, an Alaskan king easily enough for the four of you. Conferring with you one last time that this was what you wanted, their clothes were being tossed on the floor. You moved your hands to lift up your dress, but Gojo quickly grabbed your wrists. “Let us do it, you don’t have to move a muscle tonight for that?” You nodded, as geto grabbed your dress lifting it over your head, and shoko unclamped your bra, your breasts falling on your chests. You were then layed on your back, and your stocking pulled off your legs, leaving you bare in front of them.
Shoko was the first to move. She grabbed your face and kissed you passionately, tongue diving into your mouth. she then trailed kissed down your neck before reaching your tits. “Fucking gorgeous girl.” She popped one of your buds into her mouth, swirling it around while grabbing your other, fondling your chest.
Meanwhile, the boys layed down settled between your legs, your thighs on either side of their faces. With one hand, both held up your leg and started on your thighs, kissing and sucking on them before they both meet at your heat. Suguru went first, pressing a kiss too your clit before taking the bud into his mouth, “mmm s’ good” he mumbled into your cunt. Satoru took his fingers up to your hole, teasing your entrance before gently pushing in two fingers, making your back arch into shoko. “Careful, sweetie. Tell me if you need anything to change mkay?” Gojo reassured as he began pumping his fingers in and out.
Shoko continued her work on your chest, occasionally letting up to take your mouth in hers, sucking up all your moans, when she remembered your earlier words, reaching for her phone. She held it up enough to show off all the marks on your neck and collar, without getting your boobs in the shot. She snapped the photo, kissed your cheek and hit post.
Geto was making sloppy work of your cunt, eating you out like his life depends on it. His moth was ravenous, mumbling praises here and there relishing in your taste. “Could eat you like this forever, fuck.” Satoru was busy fingering you and kissing every inch of your body, his other hand rubbing gentle shapes into your thigh. “You’re so fucking pretty. We don’t deserve you.”
The combination of stimulation quickly accumulated, you tried to let out a warning before you came, shaking and arching off the bed. On nights like these, one time was enough, and you just wanted to sleep now.
“Do you want a bath? Something to drink?” Geto questioned. “No,” you murmured, “just get me some clothes and hold me till I’m asleep.” And so they did. You lay in the middle, shoko cradling you on one side, satoru the other, and geto holding onto both you and shoko.
#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x y/n#jjk geto#jjk gojo#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo x reader smut#satoru gojo smut#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#getou suguru x you#suguru geto smut#geto x you#geto smut#geto suguru#shoko ieiri x you#shoko ieiri smut#ieiri shoko x reader#shoko ieiri x reader#shoko ieiri#shoko smut
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I actually love jealous abs/ abs after you’ve been teasing her typa shit 🙏😔idk if this makes sense but I WOULD GO FERAL if u wrote more of those
𝕁𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝔸𝕓𝕓𝕪: “ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱꜱᴀɢᴇꜱ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴏ ɢɪʀʟꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ?"
⋆｡ °✩⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨୧⋆ ｡˚ ⋆✩° ｡⋆ ♡ ⋆｡ °✩⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨୧⋆ ｡˚ ⋆✩° ｡⋆⋆｡ °✩⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨୧⋆ ｡˚ ⋆✩°
More jealous Abby for one of my fav supporters @mitski-lovesems
Warnings: 18+, (all receiving) strap on, fingering, cunnilingus, thigh riding, masturbating, accidental squirting, rough Abby, edging, overstimulation, minors DNI
In the WLF base, there was a rule of thumb among soldiers that if you returned from patrol without a sore back, arm, leg, or any other part of the body, you hadn’t been doing enough. While in essence, a joke, the amount of times you had personally been launched from high places, stabbed, shot, beaten up, etc was a proper issue. Thankfully, the medical team had a trained physiotherapist to ease the pain. A slightly older woman was your favourite, she would dig her thumbs into the knotted muscles in your back, help you stretch, and give you exercises to ease the pain between visits with her. She always drew cute little drawings on your exercise notes. Her writing was beautiful, too, not unlike her face and figure, with a beautiful complexion of subtle freckles, pretty black hair with waves up to her shoulder, and a smile of perfectly in tact teeth that only illuminated how little she was in danger compared to the rest of the WLFS.
You were sort of oblivious to her flirting with you, mistaking it for friendliness. When your girlfriend and number one scar killer discovered your exercise instructions, written so sweetly by said physiotherapist, covered in hearts and little drawn cats, she was less than impressed.
“The fuck is this?” Abby practically spat, stalking towards you, note in hand. You looked at her blankly.
“My exercise instructions? They’ve actually been helping quite a lot, not as much as the massages though-“
“Massages? The fuck are you talking about?�� You eye her softly, not understanding where her anger was coming from.
“You know Miranda?” Her eyes darkened.
“The one half the men and their girlfriends want to sleep with? Yeah, I know of her.” You tilt your head in confusion.
“Oh, I didn’t know that…anyway, you know how I was telling you about that shooting pain I get in my back? She rubs out the muscles, it feels really g-“
“Take off your fucking clothes.” Abby interrupts. Your eyes widen, a small smile fighting to appear on your face at the anticipation of what she could and would do to you.
“It feels really nice with her thumbs on my bare skin.”
“Bare?” She demands, ripping the jeans off of your body.
“Yeah, I have to take my top off-“ She shuts you up with a deep kiss, her tongue so deep inside you that a desperate whine ripples through you. She breaks the kiss right as you thought you would lose oxygen.
“Lie down.” Your cheeks flush, she’s always been so damn sexy when she’s all authoritative like this.
“Here? Right on this bench?” You question while she pulls apart your button up shirt, leaving only the bottom half of it on you and showing your pretty bra.
“Right. Here.” Abby groans, sucking on your neck and immediately leaving a dark mark there.
“Abby it’ll show…” You exclaim, and she gives you a warning look. You know her when she’s like this. Barely talking, only taking what she fucking wants. You shouldn’t speak, shouldn’t ask questions, all she wants it to fuck you into a new plane of existence. You really didn’t understand what brought this on though, you truly didn’t think of your physiotherapist in any way other than a good physio.
“Good. It’ll teach that perky little cunt who you belong to. Lie down, I don’t like repeating myself.”
“Yeah…yes, Abby.” You comply, lying down and causing several condiments and decorations on the bench to crash onto the floor.
“So fucking sexy sprawled out for me. Fucking touch yourself. Show me how wet you are.” Your body feels like it’s on fire. You feel nervous as you bring your fingers to your clothed cunt. She rolls her eyes.
“Take that shit off, pretty girl. Need to fucking see you.” You nod, pulling it down to your ankles which she helps take all the way off your feet, tossing it into the pile on the ground.
You let out a high pitched moan as you rub your clit a little faster. Abby smiles, bringing her hand over your body.
“Good girl…” She coos, pulling you onto her lap. She puts her own fingers into you quickly and without warning, immediately finding your clit and making it feel 10 times better than with your own fingers.
“What was that moan baby?” She teases. “Are my massages a little better than your little physio girlfriend, huh?” You let out a whimper as she puts her two middle fingers inside, all the while rubbing your clit with her thumb.
“Holy f- fuck….”
“Stuttering only over my fucking fingers huh? My girls so needy.” You feel so good you want to fucking cry when she removes her fingers and slows the speed on your clit to an almost non existent pace.
“Abby…” She ignores your complaints, picking you up off of her lap and walking towards the bedroom. Still shaky from the stimulation, you watch eagerly until she returns with a large strap.
“Jesus Abby….” You begin to say, watching the determination on Abby’s face.
“She’s just my friend- she’s not even my friend she’s just my doctor…Abby-“
“Don’t waste your breath when you could be using that pretty mouth of yours for…better things. Open up.” She commands, effortlessly attaching the strap to her waist. You stand up and she just laughs.
“Where you going sweetheart?” You exhale sharply.
“The bedroom…I thought-“
“Now why would you deserve the comfort of a nice soft bed after keeping this from me hm? My girl needs to be fucked, hard and good, remind you who you belong to.”
“But I didn’t even-“
“Uh-uh. No talking.” She says, lifting your mouth open with her thumb.
“Tap on my hip if it’s too much okay baby?” She asked, her voice coming out sweeter than the vulgar shit she’s been saying thus far. You smile comfortingly at her, nodding. She grabs the bottom of your chin, pushing the tip of the strap into you and coating it with your saliva.
“Fuckk.” Abby remarks, feeling heat grow at the sight of you.
“I’m gonna push a little more into you.” You hum into her as she says this and she laughs, teasingly. “Aww, it’s okay, you can take it.” You nod, feeling it near the back of your throat this time.
“Fuck…I’m gonna fuck your face harder just- fuck- deep breaths for me…” She says, thrusting in and out of your mouth.
“Fuck….that’s really….get it really nice and wet for me so it’s ready when I fuck you.” She says, barely able to contain herself from how horny this was making her.
You pull away, revealing the soaking strap.
“Perfect baby. Now I know you were mad I didn’t let you cum before so I’m just gonna give it to you, okay?” Fuck. You could have cum just from her words.
“Answer my fucking question.”
“Yeah- yeah that’s good Abs…” You say, dumbly. What you would say if you could, is that “yes Abby, it’s okay, in fact I want you to use me for your own pleasure like I’m a toy and treat me like I’m fucking nothing,” but a simple affirmation of this being “okay” worked for you both. To those who say jealousy is a red flag clearly hasn’t seen how good red looks on Abby fucking Anderson.
“You know what? I don’t think you deserve my cock yet.” She says, taking a seat on the bench beside you.
“Sit.” Abby beckons to her large thigh. To save you from your gawking, she pulls you onto it herself and starts bouncing her leg up and down innocently.
“F…mmm~” You say, closing your eyes as the vibration of her bouncing ripples through your cunt.
“What’s that sound baby?” She questions. You roll your eyes at her act.
“Why are you…mmm~ teasing me?”
“Because. I don’t like the idea of anyone fucking touching you. You’re gonna cum over and over until I’m done with you and only when I want you to.” She explains, increasing the pace.
“Oh fuckfuck Abby…”
“Shh…it’s okay.” She coos. The friction of your bare cunt on her clothed muscular thigh makes your head go fuzzy.
“G’nna cum…” You slur your words, making her give you a cocky smirk as a result.
“Oh yeah? Gonna cum hm?” She says before stopping her bouncing. You let out a whine.
“Abby what the fuck?” You demand, clinging onto her. She kisses you playfully.
“Oh baby, you think I’m just gonna give it to you? You’re not being very convincing that you’re mine yet. Hump my thigh yourself. I might even let you cum if you do a good enough job.” You groan in irritation, but comply, slowly moving up and down the clothed skin. It feels good, but nothing like what she could give you.
“Please…want you so bad…” You beg. She smiles lovingly at you.
“Aw, I know baby, I know. But look at you. Going so slow f’me, acting all shy when I know my girls not shy is she?” You let out a shaky breath as the fabric hits your clit just right.
“No Abby.” She tilts her head in amusement at your struggle to get off.
“Fine, do you need my help?”
“Can…” You stop yourself, remembering how unappreciative Abby is of your manners and shy demeanour.
“Put your hand on my neck…please.” You ask, softly. She nods, putting one of her large hands on your throat.
“Fuck~” You moan loudly, the word coming out barely audible with the little amount of air you have. Abby’s practically gleaming and you can tell she’s wet over this.
“My pretty girl begging for my hands like a fucking slut, huh? So fucking sexy.” She coos, and it’s not long before you’re cumming, with slick lining her pants. When you finally open your eyes, you blush at the sight of them.
“S…sorry” You blurt out. Abby just smiles.
“It’s okay, something to remember you by, hm?” She picks you up, taking you to the bedroom and planting you, sprawled out on the bed.
“I thought I didn’t deserve a bed.” You say, starring up into her watercolour eyes. She nods.
“You weren’t, but you impressed me with that little show before.” She says, matter-of-factly. “I was going to tie your hands down, but I want them clinging onto me and digging into my skin while I fuck you. I think the straps wet enough still.” Your cheeks flush crimson and she tilts her head, eyeing your body. She takes off your bra effortlessly and immediately goes down to suck at your nipples, moaning as she flicks her tongue over the sensitive buds. You bite your lip. Once she’s satisfied with sucking and marking the top part of your body, she begins lining herself up with your cunt.
“Deep breaths baby, I’m not gonna stop unless you use our safe word kay? So you can beg and cry as much as you fucking want to. You can pull my hair or dig into my skin, but I won’t relent okay? I’m gonna-“ Abby says all at once, so fucking obsessed with you. “I’m gonna fuck you into next week just- can I? God please let me fuck you.” Your thighs quiver as she speaks, and you nod eagerly.
“Please do, I need it.” You say, and with this she pulls you towards her by your legs and thrusts almost the entire strap completely into you. You let out a cry. It stings so fucking good. She edges the last bit into you, moving hard and fast inside.
“Fuckkkk ohmygod thank you- thank…fuck….”
“Tell me that fucking….” Abby grunts, titling her head back while continuing to dick you deep.
“Slut…means nothing to you.” You moan, your eyes rolling back.
“Fucking look at me.”
“S- sorry I’m sorry.” You moan. “She means nothing to me…it’s you…it’s only you, ohfuck-“ You could tell it was almost enough, but not quite.
“Tell me-“ Abby sighed, looking a little guilty.
“Can you tell me you hate her?” You look at her, surprised.
“Abby…”
“Just….just this once…it doesn’t have to be- true I just….” You let out a small laugh.
“So insecure toda-“ She playfully hits you, thrusting in deep.
“Okay sorry- I hate her Abby, you’re the only one for me.” She nods.
“Good fucking girl.” She remains true to her word, fucking you over and over until you can’t even form a fucking sentence. You’ve lost count at which orgasm this was, it didn’t matter, but you felt your stomach yearning for the release that made your legs shake with you collapsing into her.
“Ab- mmm” You hum out. She smiles, finally going out of you and admiring your fucked out body. You were glistening with sweat and a combination of your slick and hers.
“You did really good. Sorry if I was…too rough.” Abby says as she runs her fingers through your hair. You shake your head.
“S’good.” You say. You’re too tired to notice her moving down the bed, that is until you feel her between your thighs.
“Ab- what?” You exclaim. She rubs your thigh fondly with her thumb.
“I’m just gonna clean you up.”
“With your tongue? Abby I came like 10 times…” She laughs at this.
“I’ll be gentle.”
“Oh my god…fine but none of your usual shit” You banter. She gasps, pretending to be offended.
“What usual shit?”
“Don’t give me that, when I’m just relaxing on the couch or I’m writing at a bench and you eat me out for like 20 minutes straight.” She smirks.
“Don’t know what you mean.”
“You’re all “mmm, ahhh you taste so good” like is it my pleasure or yours at this poin-“
“Okay, okay. I’ll be gentle.” She says, more convincing this time. You nod, spreading your still shaky legs.
She licks a stripe up your soaking cunt and you let out a deep breath. Then, she kisses your clit, sucking on it and tonguing between your folds at the same time. You let out a loud moan, already so fucking sensitive. You were so fucked out you were screaming, and instead of feeling like you needed to cum like the previous 10 or so times, you felt like you were going to pee, pass out, and cum all at once.
“W-wait Abby I- you should….mmm…st…stop I might pee Abby st- mmm” Abby had already warned you earlier though that she wouldn’t stop unless you used the safe word, and at this point you didn’t know if it would be worse to pee on Abby’s face or be denied an orgasm.
Thankfully, (and surprisingly, you might add) you didn’t pee, though, instead something miraculous happened, and Abbys face was completely soaked as you squirted all over her. You were frozen. Stunned. Embarrassed. Surprised. You wanted to kill yourself, that had never fucking happened before. You waited for Abby to come back up and she looked at you fucking awe stuck.
“I am so sorry…I’ve never squirted before that was so disgusti-“
“That was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.” Abby admits, interrupting you. You blush, covering your face with your hands.
“Really?”
“Holy fuck baby, we’re doing this every day….I need that to happen again.”
“I was just…it was so much and I…”
“Fuckkkkkk I think I came I was that aroused.” You laugh at this, not believing her. She smiles back, thankful you feel more confident now.
“I’m serious, look.” She reaches down and her hand comes back up, dripping in liquid. You nod.
“Well alright then.” You laugh and she brings you into a hug.
You stand up and she looks betrayed when you do so. You laugh at her facial expression.
“I’m showering, need to get cleaned up properly this time.” She smiles.
“Ooh, can I come?” You sigh.
“This is going to be a long night.” You remark as you both head into the nearby bathroom.
#tlou2#the last of us#the last of us2#tlou#abby anderson#abby anderson x female reader#smut#tlou smut#ellie williams
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LOVING YOU
MASTERLIST | WC: 8.1K (EXACTLY) | RELEASE DATE: 7TH MAY 2024
NON-IDOL!WOOYOUNG X FEM!READER (X NON-IDOL!SAN)
Synopsis: Loving Jung Wooyoung wasn’t worth it. Loving him wasn’t worth a god damn bone in your body. Yet here you are. Loving Jung Wooyoung made you hurt. It was a pain you were willing to endure for so long.
Warning/s: Angst. Hurt to comfort. Some fluff. Mentions of food and alcohol.
Rina’s notes: This is probably my favourite thing I’ve written kind of gagged! For texts white is someone else and blue is you! Sumin and Ningning what are you doing here?? There may be some spelling and grammar mistakes, I just haven’t had time to clean it up! Not too proud of the ending as I don’t really know how to end stuff sorry!!!!!
Tags: @newworldnet
Loving Jung Wooyoung is like watching your heart getting ripped out and doing nothing to stop it. It’ll happen again so why bother. Your heart aches as he smiles as Sumin knowing full well she’d never love him as much as you do. But what you do know is that she makes him happy and that’s all you can ask for at this point.
The sounds in the cafe had gradually faded out as you watched the pair lovingly gaze into each other’s eyes. They were both so content with being in each other’s presence you’re sure they’d forgotten you were even there with them. Neither of them had spoke to you nor looked in your direction for a while, leaving you to trace your finger in the grooves of your mug.
Your eyes drifted from the couple to the chalkboard above the counter, after reading it you look around the room. You do everything but look at the couple.
“So what about you?” Sumin smiles at you, breaking you out of your daze.
You return the smile, slightly lost, and reply. “What about me?”
“What’s your favourite thing to do? It’d be nice to know you more, seeing as you’re his best friend and all.” It’s always that last line that gets you but she says it so politely you aren’t sure if it was supposed to come off as condescending.
“Oh.” You think for a moment. “I don’t do much. I stay inside.” You give her an awkward smile, looking over at Wooyoung to say something.
He puts his hand on your shoulder and nods. “That’s something though, kiddo.”
Before you can get another word in he lets go of you and continues talking to Sumin about whatever they were before. Slowly you reach into the bag on your lap and pull out your phone. You see San’s name on the screen along with a text message and open it discreetly.
Is everything going alright?
just call pls
i wanna go
Read 13:17
You make an effort to turn your phone off of silent and after a few moments it rings loudly, cutting off the conversation happening next to you. “It’s San.” You place the phone on ear closest to Wooyoung and San says something about needing your help but you don’t really register it. You simply pick up your bag, pull out your wallet, place some money next to your cold drink, wave to the pair and leave. You can hear them both say goodbye but you shut the door just as quickly as you open it.
After leaving you turn the corner and see the pair through the window, they go back to talking as usual. Wooyoung laughing at something Sumin says and you can almost hear his hearty laugh as if you were still in there.
San hears your irregular breaths and his heart breaks for you. “Do you want me to pick you up?”
“He’s so happy.” You let out a shaky sigh.
“I’ll come and get you.” Keys jingle on the other end of the line and you can hear Byeol meow at San for leaving.
“They’re so happy, together.” You study the smile on Wooyoung’s face. He doesn’t cover his mouth with his hand and instead reaches for hers. His smile reaches his eyes, as does hers.
“Wait at Aurora, it’s Hongjoong’s shift.” You nod, although he can’t see it he knows.
Your phone slowly slips back into your bag, you’re not sure if you put the phone down or if San has but you register that it’s no longer in your hand. You finally tear your eyes away from the pair and drag your feet two blocks to Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s store.
It’s a silent walk.
There are no cars on the road. There are no people in the street. There are no birds chirping.
You’re left with your thoughts. Dangerous, really.
This is the first time he’s been so enthusiastic about having you meet someone, he pushed so hard for it and how could you say no to that face. The face you’ve loved so dearly since 8th grade.
She is the first girlfriend of his that had smiled at you and spoke to you and asked about you, something that gains Wooyoung’s stamp of approval. She offered to pay for your drink and even gave you a book you’d been meaning to read that she had on hand. She didn’t judge you for being a homebody nor did she pass comment on it.
Sumin was lovely. That’s what you hated more than anything.
Hongjoong had clearly been warned about your arrival because by the time you arrive there’s a hot chocolate on your usual booth and a small post it note next to it. Your heart clenches at Hongjoong’s gesture, not because it hurts you but because you’d missed being there.
The place was empty, his lunch rush had ended as all the sweet treats on display were gone and Yeosang was wiping tables.
You go straight to the booth quietly, getting a small smile from the man behind the counter as you walk past him. Placing your bag next to you, you pick up the note.
‘It’s on me.’
Simple and short but enough to remind you that’s exactly what Sumin said that made Wooyoung kiss her on the cheek while wrapping his arm around her while you were in line together. Of course Wooyoung was affectionate, he always has been but not like that in a long time. He’d hug and hold hands and give San or Yeosang the occasional kiss on the cheek but that’s where it ended.
You keep staring at the note before wordlessly folding it and putting it at the edge of the table.
“Do you think he doesn’t know?” You’re not sure who you’re speaking to, yourself, Hongjoong or Yeosang.
“Honestly?” Yeosang responds, his voice telling you he’s close. You nod and he sighs. “I don’t think he does.” Looking over at Yeosang he comes and sits opposite you. “I think he’s so wrapped up in his own world he’s not looking right in front of him.”
He watches as you take a sip of the warm drink. It provides no comfort to you as it usually would. You feel empty. Just as you place the drink down you hear San enter.
There’s nothing but pity in his eyes.
The cycle continues and he’s not sure how much longer he can let it go on.
Loving Jung Wooyoung is like being at the beach on a sunny day. It’s warm for a moment before it gets too hot and you get burnt. You’d endured it for so many visits so what’s one more, after all you’ll be out of it soon. It’s hot in the house, there are too many bodies and not one window open. Wooyoung had told you it was a nice gathering between friends and not a full blown party, hence the long sleeve shirt and jeans. He lied to you but at least the rest of the group is here.
“I was hoping to see you again! Our meeting was cut short last time!” Sumin rests her elbow on your shoulder and shouts over the music. She offers you some of her drink but you have your hand to decline it. “You don’t drink?” You shake your head, causing her to laugh. “That’s a shame! We could have been drunk buddies! Wooyoung said you were once!”
Ah. Those times. The reason you stopped drinking. “Not anymore! But thank you for the offer!” She smiles and leaves you alone, going somewhere to the sofa’s to mingle some more.
The music feels like it’s getting louder and you begin playing with your sleeves, scratching up your hand as you do. It begins to hurt but you ignore it the best you can and focus on finding someone you know. Your best bet is Seonghwa being in the kitchen, making sure people drink safely and responsibly so you go there.
It takes some pushing and small excuse me’s that go ignored to get there but in the end you do. He’s keeping it as clean as he can while staying out of everyone’s way, it’s in his nature after all. He silently gives you a comforting smile as you walk his way.
“I didn’t think you come.” He speaks into your ear.
He leans down to your heightso you can reply in the same manner. “I thought it was just us. That’s what he told me.” Seonghwa pulls back, just as confused as you were when you arrived. You pull him back in to defend Wooyoung but he doesn’t give you the chance, instead he speaks to you.
“Friends don’t do that, you know that.” He shakes his head and cleans some cups on the side.
You reply. “It’s just how he is!” But you’re not sure he hears you.
As he busy’s himself you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. With the amount of times it goes off you could mistake it for a call, but it’s not. It’s Wooyoung.
hey
heyyyyyyy
hey hey hey
are you here
sumin asked if you’re here
you’re bffs now she says
WEREH SO BFFS NWU
that was sumin
d'you make it or not
can it woo
you lied
now where are you?
He leaves you on read and you sigh. Just as you go to put your phone back he pipes up again.
you know i didn’t mean to
welllllll
bathroom
su thinks she’ll be sick
ok
Read 22:13
This time you successfully put your phone away and bid Seonghwa goodbye, although you aren't sure he can hear you considering the volume of the music and the constant chatter. You push through the group of people in the doorway as politely as you can and make a beeline for the stairs.
The crowding on the stairs didn't slow you down, you came to see Wooyoung but now that Sumin is (supposedly) being sick you want to make sure she's alright.
The bathroom door is wide open, a couple in there all over each other, so you knock on his bedroom door just a couple meters away, assuming she's in the suite. You continuously knock without receiving a response. It takes you a couple minutes to decide what to do. You could go downstairs and see someone you know or you could go home or you could go and see Wooyoung like you said you would. How could you ever knowingly let him down?
You shout that you're coming in before opening the door and the sight you're met with makes you freeze. Much like the couple in the bathroom they're all over each other. Lips and hands constantly moving to cover more area. Each movement more desperate than the last as they pull each other closer. You can't watch any longer and slam the door shut behind you as you leave. You don't know if either of them spot you and you don't want to stay long enough to find out.
You shoot down the stairs just as quick as you went up them. Seonghwa watches you from the kitchen doorway and tries stop you however his efforts are in vain when you rip your wrist out of his grip without slowing your pace. He sees you go through the front door and sighs as he catches a glimpse of Wooyoung coming down the stairs.
"Is she here?!" He shouts over the music as best he can, San, Seonghwa and Yunho are all in his line of sight but they all look at him before going back to what they were doing. He does some extra searching around the first level of his house but his efforts come up short. You aren't with any of their mutual friends or your usual spots.
Maybe he was imagining things. Maybe you left after you realised it wasn't a meet up. Maybe you left when he wasn't there when you got here. Maybe you never came at all. Maybe you came upstairs and opened the door and saw him and Sumin before promptly leaving because who would want to walk in on their best friend and their partner making out? He surely wouldn't want to walk in on you doing that.
Wooyoung opens the front door in order to let some air in as he tries to figure out what's going on. After all that over thinking he's quite confused when he sees you sitting on the curb at the end of his house with Yeosang at your side.
He considers walking over to the two of you but you lean your head against Yeosang’s shoulder and he decides to stay back. He watched from afar as you speak to each other, he can’t make any of it out and he assumes by the closeness that he should leave it alone.
“I just went in. I knocked by no one answered. I upset myself in theory.” You laugh quietly.
He shakes his head. “Not really. You thought she was being sick. Wooyoung doesn’t like sick so you did what you thought was right.”
“It’s his room and I just walked.” You look down and shuffle your feet uncomfortably, thinking back to the scene.
“You usually do, it’s nothing new.” He peers over his shoulder as best as he can and he’s sure he sees Wooyoung watching you from the corner of his eye. Wooyoung notices and pushes the door shut slightly to cover himself.
“I just want to go home now.” You stand up and Yeosang follows suit.
He reaches out for you but you start walking away. “Let’s get something to eat. You’ll just sit and wallow in self pity at home.”
“It’s better than seeing them.” You wipe your eyes, a movement both boys watching you catch up on. Before Wooyoung can even consider comforting you his friend jogs slightly to catch up to you.
He goes back inside and shuts the door behind him. Both you and Yeosang hear the door shut and you look at him as he sighs. He reaches out to wipe your tears and pulls your eyes away from the door.
“What do you want to eat, hm?”
Loving Jung Wooyoung is like watching snow fall and land on wet pavement. The snow won’t settle, so why try. It's so pretty but at what cost? Wooyoung looks at Sumin with so much love, it's the same way you look at him San says. But if it was why can everybody but him see it?
"Did you end up coming over last week?" Sumin diverts the conversation towards you, getting too shy to talk as Wooyoung stares at her.
You wave your hand dismissively and swallow your drink. Her question makes Wooyoung look at you and you softly punch his shoulder as he sits next to you. “Only for a couple minutes because someone said it was a gathering between friends, not a party with everyone he knows.” He laughs and so do you to hide how annoyed you really are, this makes San stare at you from across the table but you slightly shake your head at him.
“Oh!” Sumin exclaims. “Wooyoung said you guys used to party all the time. Are they not your scene?”
“They never really have been, I only went because I was 18 and he wanted me out my dorm room.” You sigh.
“Books were your life back then, one of us had to do it.” San pipes up, sipping his coffee, amused. The other three laugh as you jokingly frown at San.
Silence falls over the table as all of you dig into the cakes in front of you and drink your lukewarm beverages. You can see San’s eyes flick from you to the couple as they feed each other, you try to pay no mind to it but he watches your shoulders slump the tiniest bit more and he can’t help but feel pity for you.
It’s past the lunch rush for Aurora hence the group gathering but you can’t help but feel like an outsider to the other three. Wooyoung and Sumin being in love and San not having to battle the same feelings as you makes it easy for him to speak. But every movement you make has you second guessing yourself. For comfort you end up watching Wooyoung, something you’ve done for a long time that you aren’t quite sure you can give up.
He’s so pretty and lovely and caring and kind and the thought of all that makes you want to fall for him all over again. He’s so happy to watch Sumin talk to San even though he’s the biggest chatterbox at the table, he’s so content that they’re getting along. His eyes tell you everything you need to know about how he feels and as comforting as they are how easily you can read them hurts. Because it’s not for you.
Sumin smiles at you and you shoot her one back. She doesn’t seem hurt or jealous or angry that you’re staring at her boyfriend, there’s an unreadable emotion in her eye that you can’t pinpoint but you know it’s not negative. San spots your interaction and sees you ever so slightly cringe and curl into yourself.
He takes this as a sign to go, as much as he knows you want to stay for Wooyoung (just for it to be like old times once more) he can’t bare the sight of you working yourself up and feeling like you make people uncomfortable. He’s seen it all before but this time it seems to be worse. Maybe it’s because he can see how in love Wooyoung is, how both of you know Sumin is the one for him and this is it, how you wished to be loved the way you love him. San stands up with a smile “I’ll pay for this one, Wooyoung you’re paying for the next.”
“You’re going?” Wooyoung goes to take his wallet to pay his and Simon’s portion but his friend dismisses just as fast.
“Mhm, we have to take Byeol to the vet. You know my sister doesn’t like doing it and I don’t like going alone.” He gestures for you to get up, which you do.
Wooyoung reaches out for your hand as you step out the booth and you feel him just graze your wrist, his movements causing you to move back. His touch burns, it hurts and you’re not sure why. All you know is that you can’t see him right now because everything is starting to hurt.
You can see Sumin from the corner of your eye as the gears begin turning in her head and she connects dots you wished she couldn’t. She’d caught you.
Quickly, you wave bye to the couple and Seonghwa behind the counter as he finishes up his shift and leave San to pay. Wooyoung considers going after you but Sumin shakes her head and he doesn’t. “Girl to girl, don’t worry.” Is enough for him to leave it alone. You’d never spoke to him about ‘girl problems’ before so if she knew, that was already more than him.
San comes outside and sees you sat on the curb with your hand on your chest. He can’t tell if you’re trying to slow your heartbeat or steady your breathing but he leaves you to it until you’re ready to talk.
“I’m a terrible person, San.” You look over your shoulder at him. “I like a guy with a girlfriend and she knows but that’s barely changed anything.”
“You don’t just like him, you’ve loved him since we were kids. No partner has ever changed that for you. You aren’t a terrible person, not when you liked him first.” He tries to reason. He reaches out to you and helps you stand up.
The pair of you walk to his car in complete silence. There’s nothing else that can be said because he’s right.
The car isn’t too far, just down the road, but it gives you time to think about your next steps. You could either come clean and move on, never mention it again or apologise to Sumin. Coming clean could ruin everything though and suffering in silence for too long can ruin a person but you have nothing to apologise for. You’re stuck in an endless loop of hurt.
As you slip into the passenger seat you can feel the dreaded vibration of your phone in your pocket. You don’t open the message, instead watch it come in on your lock screen.
I don’t blame you. You’ve known him for much longer and he cares about you. You haven’t done anything to come in between us so I can’t fault you. I won’t say anything if you don’t feel comfortable with it.
“Sumin knows.” You read the message out to San before turning your phone off in your lap.
“And how does that make you feel?” He tries to be empathetic as he starts the car.
“Pathetic.” Your phone lights up one more time but you flip it over after reading the next message.
Just don’t hurt yourself more than you have. A boy isn’t worth that much.
Loving Jung Wooyoung is like watching the cherry blossoms flower and then counting the petals as they fall. The petals, although beautiful, are eventually forgotten about. You sit at the kitchen island, staring at the clock above the oven. 10:23pm.
Sighing you open your text thread with Wooyoung once again and check if he’s read any.
Today 11:14
what’s the plan then dude
it’s the 17th
Today 14:22
you missed the last one
you said we’d watch two movies to make up for it
doctor strange isn’t gonna watch itself??
Today 17:36
what are we doing????
wooooooyuuuuuuu
is it off??
Today 19:12
san came instead
thanks for letting me know you weren’t coming
Delivered
Just as you go to turn it off and head to bed you watch the ‘Delivered’ switch to ‘Read 10:24’ and your heart drops but you’re not sure why.
When it comes to Wooyoung you’re not sure about a lot of things but there’s not much you can do about it. You’re so used to feeling that way that, to you, at the end of the day it is what it is. It’s how you feel and you can’t help that, you just have to learn how to navigate it.
Your phone rings and you see his caller ID. Hesitantly you pick up, Lord knows what he’s going to say but you hope it’s along the lines of sorry.
“What’s with you and San recently?” He exhales.
You laugh quietly, he’s the pathetic one now. “Not even a hello?”
“I don’t show up so you replace me with San yet again?” You can hear shuffles on the other end of the line.
“Was I supposed to stay by myself on the day we have reserved for each ot- wait, you didn’t show up you’re right!” After turning the lights out and shutting off any electrics you need to, you go to your bedroom and put your phone on charge. “Hold on, you’re on speaker.”
“We were supposed to watch Doctor Strange together!” He argues.
You laugh at him, amused once again. “Wooyoung you didn’t show up and didn’t even tell me, how was I supposed to know you wanted to watch it with me when you didn’t have the decency to text me?”
“I forgot! I went out with Sumin and my time was taken up!”
“So why are you mad at me!”
The line goes quiet and you’re sure he’s put the phone down. After hearing some more shuffling from him that theory doesn’t stand. Either way he still doesn’t say anything.
“I don’t know actually.”
“Meeting on the 17th is our thing and you forgot, we’ve done it every month since we were 15 Woo. You forgot, it was something you wanted to do and now you’re mad at me because I didn’t want to be alone.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
He falls quiet again and this time you put the phone down. You’re already hurting after being ditched but being ditched for Sumin (even though they’re together) on your day made it still just that tiny bit more.
You watch his caller ID show up on your phone again but you turn it off and flip it over on your nightstand. Before you lay in bed you flip down the picture of you and Wooyoung at your graduation that sat next to it.
He’d never forgotten before, he used to make a point that it was your thing not only to his partners but your own friendship group and yet he’s the one forgetting. He’s the one who’d got your hopes up only to leave you hanging.
You lay awake that night, overthinking. Staring at the ceiling of glow in the dark stars you and Wooyoung put up one night after watching The Blair Witch. Regardless of how you feel about him a friend doesn’t do this to a friend. He didn’t forget to go bowling with Mingi and Yunho. He didn’t forget to go to the lakes with Jongho. He had meetings with Sumin those days too. Were you just that forgettable?
Quickly you text your best friend, feelingly conflicted after putting the phone down and being shouted at for something that was entirely his fault.
it’s our thing
you left me and that’s on you
Delivered
You keep your phone open on the message screen expecting Wooyoung to be awake considering you know he has the next (or current, depending on how you see it) day off however nothing comes.
Instead you watch the ‘Delivered’ switch to ‘Read 04:25’ with no response.
Loving Jung Wooyoung is like flipping through an old photobook as you fantasise about what could have been. It had been a while since the whole group were together (in a calm setting) but it had been a long time coming seeing how busy you had all been.
You can’t stay mad at Wooyoung for long, it’s been a week and you’re currently sat next to him on Ningning’s couch as she pulls out your yearbook. “Here he is,” she covers Wooyoung’s picture and shows it to Sumin who’s also sat next to him “we did let him walk around like this. I can only apologise.” She takes her hand off the picture and she immediately laughs.
“This is you?!” She points at her boyfriend only for him to look down and laugh. The rest of you laugh as well and she scoffs in amusement. Her eyes scan over the rest of the page. “You were all in the same class, that sounds like trouble.” She mutters jokingly.
“If you were looking for trouble it was these two.” Seonghwa point to you and Wooyoung. “Team Rocket over there.” He rolls his eyes, thinking of the many times he or Hongjoong had to free you from detention.
You lean back and pout. “It wasn’t even me, it was all him and I was taken in by association!”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have associated with me then!” He fires back just as fast.
“Sometimes I wish I didn’t!” Both of you roll your eyes at the same time causing the others to laugh once again.
It was nice to be in a friendly setting with everyone rather than stuck in a small space with the couple. You’d been seeing them at random times of the week, Wooyoung being the one inviting you out never Sumin. She text you from time to time however it was mainly to ask how San was and if you would both be seeing them soon as a group.
“How did everyone become friends then? I’ve never been with you all at the same time to know.” Sumin hand’s back the yearbook to Ningning and looks around expectantly.
“Ning and I are childhood friends.” You start.
“Then hell-spawn moved in next door.” Ningning glares at Wooyoung who does the same back.
Yunho smiles at the pair. “Mingi and I met them in middle school after Wooyoung tripped Ning into Mingi.”
“Jongho and I were always in the same classes and clubs.” You add.
“Seonghwa, Hongjoong and Yeosang were in the high school student committee so they were running into these two all the time.” Mingi points to you and Wooyoung who frown at him.
Wooyoung mumbles quietly “No need to add that.” making Sumin laugh.
“And San joined my home room and just never left.” You smile at him which he returns pretty quickly. “Made me show him around the whole school only to find out he didn’t even go there.”
Sumin’s jaw drops in disbelief as she looks at San who nods with a cheeky smile. “Wow so you really have been friends for years!” She looks over the room. “It’s really nice to have you all be so welcoming no matter how long we’ve known each other.”
“Don’t worry about it, anyway come with me. I have so many good pictures of Wooyoung, you have to see them.” Ningning stands up and offers a hand to Sumin which she quickly takes, standing up too.
As they leave to the hallway people begin to funnel out of the front room and you follow Yeosang to the kitchen. You both silently make yourself drinks as well as pour some extras for everyone else. There’s a quiet sound of chatting coming from behind but you and Yeosang continue in silence.
He watches over you with a look that asks how you are and all you can do is shrug, there’s not much you can do about how you feel but live with it, you have for years anyway.
A call of your name from the hallway takes your attention away from the silent conversation so you put your drink down and instead you go and join the other girls as they look at photos. Sumin points to a picture on the wall of you and Wooyoung, both of you in relatively formal outfits that match to a certain level. “When was this?” She seems so innocently intrigued that you take it off the wall and let her hold it. She brings it closer to her face and comments about how small you both were.
You’re both stood next to each other timidly, his hand holding yours as you both smile. His purple tie matching your purple dress. The picture was taken by your mom but Ningning had begged for a copy.
“The night after graduation, right?” Ningning leans it towards herself slightly.
The night after graduation. The night where Wooyoung pulled you away from the makeshift gathering you and everyone else in your year were having to tell you that he decided not to go to his dream college even though he was accepted. He told you he couldn’t go because he didn’t want to be far away from you because best friends don’t just up and leave each other.
The night where you almost had your first kiss, with Wooyoung at that. The only reason it didn’t happen was because Seonghwa thought something bad had happened (you guys were away for 30 minutes to be fair) but instead walked in on your lips just barely grazing each others. He left but that didn’t matter because the moment was gone. So you both settled on holding each other close and slow dancing until you were too tired to do it anymore.
The night your crush on Wooyoung came into full effect and you fully believed that the moment between you at the gathering would lead to something more but instead it went unaddressed and ignored. Your heart clenches at the memory and you have to physically stop yourself from clutching your heart.
Ningning breaks you out of your daze by asking the same question as Sumin. She watches your heartbreak for your younger self as you think of the night, after all besides Seonghwa who saw you she the only other person who knows fully what happened that night. “Yeah, we had to make our own prom because our senior pranks went too far.” Both you and Ningning laugh at the memories while Sumin continues to look at the picture.
“Wooyoung come look at this!” She exclaims. He pops around the corner and she passes the framed picture to him. He falls silent just as you did and looks up at you. “You two were so little.”
“We were indeed.”
“You were matching too.”
“She had no other friends, someone had to go with her.” He laughs to himself before leaving quickly, Sumin follows after him while asking about the senior pranks he had commit.
Ningning turns to you and places her hand on your shoulder, she strokes the are with her thumb. She’s given you the same look so many times you don’t have to speak to her to know what she’s going to say, it’s not like you could do anything about it anyway.
“Let it go, it’s fine.”
“No it’s not.” She tries to reason but you’ve already pushed her hand away from you and joined everyone else as they gather around the front room once more.
Loving Jung Wooyoung was like watching flowers die. Originally you cared for them but as time passes you realise can’t keep holding onto them. You realised this when Sumin text you last night asking if you and San would want to meet her and her boyfriend in a couple days to hang out. (She didn’t explicitly say ‘her boyfriend’ but saying ‘my Wooyoung’ was enough to make it sting a little.)
You responded to her a few hours later reminding her you and Wooyoung have plans, a text she leaves on delivered but you know she’s read it. So you’re confused when she walks in before your friend, she thanks him for holding the door for you and waves at you.
Wooyoung pulls out a chair for her across from you and then sits next to her. “I couldn’t leave Su behind, not if we’re coming here.” He holds her hand on the table. “It feels like it’s our place now.” You’re taken aback but you feel so much different from last time. You feel hollow, like an empty can that’s being kicked as someone walks down the street. It doesn’t hurt as much as you think it would, as much as it usually does.
“So what did you wanna see me for?” He keeps his body facing Sumin but looks your way.
“Just a catch up is all, we haven’t seen each other in a while.” Your statement makes the atmosphere awkward. You all know why you haven’t seen each other but it goes unsaid and instead makes Sumin put her head down awkwardly.
You lean back in your chair and cross your leg over the other. “How have you guys been then?”
“Well, we’ve been alright.” Wooyoung starts. “Su met my parents recently, that happened too.”
She nods. “They’re really nice.”
“How are you?” He follows up, looking away from Sumin.
“I’ve been good. San, Yunho and I have been hanging out loads, we’re going bowling with Ningning and Yeosang next Saturday so, yeah, I’ve been busy.”
Wooyoung leans back too, confused. “Where was the invite?” He tries to joke but it doesn’t come off as one.
“We sorted it in the group chat, you never replied so we thought you were busy.”
“Well I’m sure we can come right?” He looks over to Sumin who agrees, stating that their calendars are empty.
You shake your head and look down at the table. “We already booked it for five. We planned it like two weeks ago so.”
The table falls silent. None of you are too sure what to talk about. It’s true, you did call Wooyoung to catch up and hang out but with or without Sumin there wasn’t much to talk about. How do you catchup with your best friend who’s supposed to know everything about you? He spent all him time with his girlfriend, which is understandable, but it felt like he was leaving you behind. Not only you but the rest of the group.
There was nothing you could talk about, leaving the three of you sitting quietly looking around the cafe. It wasn’t the same as last time, this time you weren’t doing it because you were hurt or upset and didn’t want to look at the couple. This time you were doing it because it was awkward and there was nothing else you could say. You wanted to reconnect to Wooyoung but you didn’t know where to start.
You wanted to be his friend again.
That small realisation hits you hard. You weren’t stuck on him. You wanted to go back to the way it was before. You’d have to relearn everything about him but you were willing to do it if it all felt normal again.
There’s nothing you can say to fill the silence at the moment. All of you shift uncomfortably. Wooyoung wants to see you, Sumin doesn’t want to do anything that could upset you considering she knows (well, knew) about your feelings towards her boyfriend and you’re fighting yourself on what to do.
“I think I should go.” You announce, you aren’t sure to who but they both seem to take it on board. “I’ll see you around.”
You and Sumin give Wooyoung no time to argue as she assumes your seat and you leave, she smiles at you softly on your way out which you reciprocate quietly.
The scene mirrors the one when you first met her, only this time she knows you’re watching through the window but she pays no mind to them. You watch as she talks his ear off while he nods and agrees every now and then. He stares at her with an emotion you can’t quite read, perhaps you weren’t in love enough to know if it’s a stage of that or not.
Before you can think about your next steps your phone rings and you’re quick to pick up. “Hello, San.”
He makes a small sound of shock. “You sound much more joyful than I would have expected.”
Taking your eyes away from them you look up at the clear sky. “Yeah, well, it’s a good day.”
“That’s good.” San sounds just as content as you. “That’s what acceptance is like.”
“How would you know?” As if your brain is working on autopilot you begin walking toward Aurora.
You can hear some sort of movement on the other end of the line. “We’ve all been through it at least once.” Hearing Byeol meow at San as he walks past her makes you both laugh, her volume will never daily to make you smile.
Both of you stay quiet, the silence isn’t awakened like earlier or sad like last time, it’s nice. Neither of you had to fill the space or force anything, you see each other so often now that there’s nothing to update on.
His car door slams and his keys jingle. “Aurora?”
“Yeah.” Smiling, you cut the call off with the small cafe in sight.
Loving yourself after so long is like having a picnic in Summer. It’s bright. It’s warm. It’s enjoyable. San sits across from you on your blanket, empty food boxes around you and bottles of fizzy leaning against your leg, staring you down while he paints. He pouts as the 30 minute timer goes off, cutting off his playlist when it does.
“Hey drop the pout! At least you’re not doing this with Hongjoong or Yeosang, they would have wiped the floor with both of us.” San pulls his painting closer to himself as you reach out for his. “Come on, I worked hard on this!” You plead but he shakes his head.
“Five more minutes?”
“No, we can flip them at the same time-“
“But you’re so much better than me at drawing!”
“I’m literally not!”
He finishes up some details before hesitantly handing you the small canvas, you do the same with a smile and at the same time you both flip them over to see the paintings.
San had (poorly) painted a portrait of you in the park you were sat in with the exact same setting behind you, a stream and flowers behind you. There were a few ducks painted on there too, all sat in a line. You smile at the painting, making San smile too.
He checks over your picture and immediately spots Byeol in the corner. It makes him smile, how much you love that cat.
“What do you think?”
“It’s perfect, I’ll put it up in my home office.” He puts the picture down and admires you staring down at his portrait.
You turn the paintings face up and leave them on the blanket to dry in the sun while you begin to eat any remaining snacks and fruit.
The whole experience is calming and comforting. “Next time we’ll have to bring Ningning and Jongho. There’s something there, I’m telling you.“ San laughs and shakes his head before offering you to feed you a strawberry which you gladly bite. “There is something there! There always has been! I’m telling you San!”
“Or we could bring Byeol on a harness and leash.”
“Why didn’t you say before we left?! She’s home alone on a nice day and we could have brought her with us!” Your phone begins to vibrate, presumably with texts, which you ignore to continue talking. “Next time it’s nice out we will.”
“Alright, promise?” He reaches his pinky over to you and you lock them. “Promised. Now are you going to get that?”
You push your thumb against his with a small smile. “We had to make it official first.”
Once you let go you pick up your phone, opening it quickly to see where the notifications were from only to see _ on your messages. Opening the app you realise they’re all from Wooyoung.
Today 13:16
r u busy rn
can I come over
I’m freaking out rn
I think su is done with me
what do I do
what do women do
how do I apologise
nvm she doesn’t want me to apologise
she wants time
what does that mean
i’m out with san right now
i told you two days ago
but it’s our first fight
you should probably message hongjoong
he’s good with stuff like this
pleas dude
wooyoung i can’t help
sorry
You put your phone back down without awaiting his response. “He fought with Sumin and he wants to know what to do.”
“Are you going to see him then?” San seems slightly nervous about your answer which thankfully goes unnoticed by you. Once you shake your head you can see him visibly relax.
Lying back you laugh at him. “Why would I?”
“You usually do.” He reasons, moving to sit down next to you.
“Fair.” You turn your head towards him and squint to see him. “Well, I’m here with you so there's no need to go anywhere. do you want me to go?"
San lifts up his hand to block the sun out of your eyes, letting you look at him properly. "No." He shakes his head while biting his lip.
"Then I won't." You move your own hand away from your eyes and rest it on your stomach as you close your eyes. "It's been really nice today, thank you. I think we should do this more often, with Byeol next time."
"That would be nice." He's thankful that you can't see him because he's sure that the face he's pulling right now isn't the best, he's trying to find the right words for what he's about to ask. "Do you think we could, possibly, may- Never mind actually.” He shakes his head and looks around the park awkwardly.
“Maybe next time we could make it a date. I don’t want to jump into anything now after everything but I think, if you’re willing to wait, we could try.” You turn your head away from San and sigh.
He smiles to himself. “I’ve waited for a while, what’s a couple more months.” Both of you quietly laugh at his comment. “Don’t fall asleep now, we’re yet to go on the swings.”
“Oh, leave me alone! I’m just resting my eyes!”
Loving you is like dreaming. It’s so incredible, it’s everything you want. Except when you when up you have to face reality and it’s difficult. That’s how Wooyoung feels as he watches you laugh at a joke Yunho says he doesn’t find all that funny, maybe it’s because he leaned in and told you personally and Mingi and Yeosang laughed because they just caught him saying it. You laugh so hard a hand rests on your stomach while the other hits Yunho’s shoulder.
“You’re staring holes into him.” Jongho comments beside him. Wooyoung continues to watch you from the other end of the table as you place some meat from the small barbecue onto Mingi and Yeosang’s rice while telling Yunho to get his own. “Wooyoung eat your food or go.” Jongho repeats your gesture but gives himself and his sulking friend meat instead, Seonghwa scolding him as he does.
Ningning sits across from Wooyoung and shakes her head. She glances over at San who watches you attentively, a smile slowly forming on her face. He stares at you with that same look you used to have when staring at Wooyoung and it’s enough to let her know you’ll be alright. She’s glad it’s him. Anyone else and she would have had her doubts but San stuck with you throughout all your hardships and struggles, even if he hurt himself along the way. Again, much like you did with Wooyoung but you’re past him now.
Wooyoung looks across at Ningning and follows her eyes to San. He’s brought straight back to reality. A cold feeling washes over him. He’s confused but when everything clicks his heart burns. His face mimics yours when you first met Sumin as he begins to notice all those small things he didn’t before.
How you left soon after meeting Sumin. When you lied about seeing them together that night (something neither of you have ever addressed, he’s not sure why). Why you were upset about being left on your day. All the uncomfortable moments and shifting when they spoke to you about you.
“It’s not… fair.” He whispers, Jongho is the only person that catches it and watches him leave. The group turns to him as his seat screeches when he leaves. He meets your eyes and for a second he spots understanding which is then followed by guilt. Jongho goes after him as he makes his exit, leaving everyone else to continue their conversations and eating.
Ningning follows suit too, leaving the two hotheads alone would result in an outburst you don’t deserve and as your longest friend all she ever wanted was your happiness. Wooyoung’s ruined it once she she’ll be damned if she lets it happen again.
Both Jongho and Ningning stare at him with pity as he watches you, San and Yunho laugh together. “It’s as if I hadn’t just left. I feel so-“
“Invisible?” Ningning leans towards him slightly. He nods and looks between you and San. “You can’t expect her to pay attention to you all the time.”
Wooyoung doesn’t come back inside even after Ningning and Jongho do instead the pair of them watch him through the window as he leaves. Both you and San see him from the corner of your eyes but by the time you’re properly looking he’s gone.
Instead he walks all the way back home, leaving his stuff behind in the process. It’s late and the street lights barely work but he’d rather be alone. It’s probably not the best to be alone with his own thoughts and feelings but it’s better than seeing you and San.
In the restaurant Jongho and Ningning watch their friend’s phone vibrate, it’s the third time ‘Sumin 💕🎀’ has shown up on the screen. Both of them leave it alone as they continue eating.
There’s nothing they could do but watch the cycle repeat. You’d both put each other through it unknowingly, only a little too late.
#RINA’S FICS#ateez#ateez angst#ateez au#ateez imagine#ateez imagines#ateez scenario#ateez x reader#ateez fluff#ateez scenarios#kpop imagine#wooyoung#wooyoung x reader#wooyoung x y/n#ateez wooyoung#ateez wooyoung x reader#san#ateez san imagine#ateez san x reader#ateez san#san imagines#san imagine#san x reader#ateez oneshot#wooyoung angst#san fluff
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nanami asking you out on a date
fluff, that's it. i don't think there's anything else here. based on my not so nice nanami hcs
you sigh, packing up all your things into the brown cardboard box that sits on the floor of your cubicle. you use packing tape to close it, only thing remaining on the table is a calendar and a desktop.
you knew you weren't going to continue working at that place after your internship, a little too intense and draining for your tastes. the corporate atmosphere wasn't really your cup of coffee, except for nanami who coincidentally was.
you were surprised though, and a little hurt. he hadn't come to give you coffee like usual but he also wasn't there to bid you farewell. you tried convincing yourself that he was probably just too busy for an intern like you.
that's when you hear a distant voice, a manager who you had the opportunity to work under, unfortunately. she was mean and obnoxious, using you like a personal slave instead of an intern. she would make you work for her personal endeavours and any refusal would have your internship threatened.
"nanami! a little late today, that's surprising for you!!" she giggles, you look over the cubicle and see her manicured nails travelling up his arm. he looked as handsome as always.
"you know, it is valentine's day today and i wanted you to have these chocolates." you look at the calendar and it was in fact, february 14th.
"oh,,," you hear nanami say. "im sorry, i actually have a date waiting for me." and your heart breaks a little. he holds a pretty bouquet of roses, wrapped with brown paper.
it was stupid you to think that him giving you coffee or his jacket actually meant something. he was grown, he probably liked women who knew what to do with their life.
you let a few tears slip and you wipe it away with the sleeve of your shirt. sniffling, you exit the office to head to your car.
it's evening and the soft sun basks you in warmth that feels like a mother's hug. you close the trunk and look back once to bid goodbye to your six months of hard work.
right before you get into your car, you hear someone yell your name. you turn back confused only to find yourself face to face with nanami.
"i thought you left," he pants, "thought i was too late." his usual hair-do has fallen apart, blond strands cover his forehead. his eyebrows creased, as he looks at you worry etched in his eyes.
you smile warmly at him when you see the bouquet in his hand. lucky girl, you think to yourself. the woman he has waiting at home is the luckiest person ever to exist.
"everything good, nanami?" you ask, a little worried to see him still slightly hunched trying to catch his breath.
"the elevator broke down after you left, had to use the stairs."
your eyes widen in shock, he was in the seventh floor. he had run down seven floors trying to reach you?
you quickly make him sit in your driver's seat and hand him a bottle of water. you try to calm your thoughts down as he recollects his composure.
"you shouldn't hav-" "would you like to go out with me this weekend?"
your brain stops working.
"h-huh?"
"i always thought you were pretty, and i really wanted to ask you out almost five months ago. your personality, your diligence and just the way you present yourself has me utterly entranced."
he stands up and hands you the bouquet.
"i just thought it would be quite inappropriate if i asked you while you were an intern, i did not want to abuse my position and impose on you. so, no pressure but if you would like to, i'll do my best to take you on an enjoyable date."
you are speechless, your jaw going slack.
"y-you like me?"
he smiles at you, eyes turning into crescents. a soft chuckle escapes his lips.
"quite a lot, i'm afraid."
#nanamin me 🧈#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jjk fanfic#jjk#jjk nanami#kento#nanami kento#kento nanami#jujutsu kaisen nanami#nanami x reader#jujutsu nanami#nanamin#fluff ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁☁︎#nanami x y/n#nanami x you
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Hi! Liquid Courage introduced me to your work and I love the way you write so I thought I should trust you with a request of mine:)
Law x reader; in one point in time one of them subtly confessed but the feeling seemed to be unrequited They both are pining for each other, both have a sweet spot for each other and a connection beyond friendship but both just turn a blind eye to it/not think too much about it. One night after drinking a bit much Law(or reader) starts getting a little touchy but not in a sexual way. (ex. they are sitting next to each other and he slowly hooks his pinky with hers) The touches convey untold truths that are still felt the next morning. After that the touches and the longing stares continue until one of them breakes by the intensity of the moment and decide to confront the other.
I will leave the fate (and the nature) of said moment up to you. Thank you in advance for considering it! Cant wait to read more of your work<3
ps if it helps you in any way in my mind this is kinda angsty. I love angst+possessiveness but I don’t mind how it will come out for you! Really I don’t t mind if you switch up the whole scenario… whatever works for you
If you’re inspired by music, these two play in my mind: All i need- Radiohead + Just pretend- Bad Omens
DESCRIPTION: You’re both silently in love and finally decide to confront your feelings
WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol consumption, brief angst at fear of unrequited feelings, mostly fluff
CHARACTERS: Law
WORDS: 1,591
A/N: Thank you so much for this request. I hope I was able to create something that matched what you were looking for and that it's to your liking.
*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*
MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST
———————
From the day you joined the crew Law knew you were someone different. You had a presence he relaxed around a lot faster than others he’d encountered in his travels. You managed to gain his trust and proved yourself a capable and crucial member of the team and situated into the crew to the point no one could really remember a time before you. It felt effortless to be around you and Law counted you amongst one of his most trusted and closest friends. And for the longest time friends was all he considered you to be. Whether through a mix of sheer obliviousness and professional refusal to indulge his feelings any further than that. The line was clearly established that you two were just friends.
However the heart wants what it wants and emotion is very separate to logic. Despite you both maintaining a friendship as deep as they came, your bodies still sought each other out. When it came to chores you were always close by. If not side by side you where always in the same room. When he was working on medical tasks you were his second, working in silent tandem with your own set rhythm that no others could match if they tried. While it annoyed the crew to no end why nothing deeper ever happened between you both, they decided to say nothing out of fear that if they did point out the obvious connection then that flow and peace between you both would shatter and be destroyed.
One evening the entire crew were in the communal area celebrating Bepo’s birthday with a lot of drink and laughter. You called it quits after a round of a drinking game was finished and moved cautiously to the closest sofa for safety, knowing that you were less than graceful when you’d been drinking and the last thing you wanted was to injure yourself and disrupt the festivities. Law smiled down at you as you slumped into the space beside him, resting your head lazily on his shoulder. While he hadn’t been actively playing with the game he had been steadily drinking and was at the same level you were. “Sure you didn’t want to play to the end?” He asked curiously.
“Nah, another round and I’d have been passed out.” You mumbled, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. A slow content smile spreading across your lips when Law also moved to accommodate you, his hand curving around your waist so you slotted better against him. Neither of you paying much mind to the position from both the alcohol in your systems and the natural feeling that overcame you both to be seated like this. As you both continued to watch and laugh at the antics of the crew who were still conscious and playing their game, your hand rested over his, your fingers absently looping around his.
Occasionally through the remainder of the night Law would subconsciously play with your fingers that were looped through his, he only became aware that he was doing it when it was finally time to go to bed. When your hands parted and you reluctantly shifted your weight off of him to stand you both became acutely aware of the lingering sensation of each other’s warmth and touch still clinging to your skin. The walk to your own room was a hazy blink but as you settled into your bed, you couldn’t help but touch your hand, doing all you could to memorise the feeling of his touch as you fell asleep.
The next morning you woke feeling a strange kind of weight on your shoulders and mind that had nothing to do with all that you’d drank the previous night. It was a good thing you knew your limits with alcohol so you could wake relatively hangover free, still a little stiff and dehydrated but nothing that would leave you bedridden all day. No this feeling was the awareness of how you felt with Law and being in his presence brought you. The more you thought about it the more you saw that you’d felt this way for the longest time, you just hadn’t truly brought it to the forefront of your attention before.
You got out of bed and readied yourself for a new day, grateful that it would be a day of minimal tasks and filled with a lot of free time given how heavily the crew had been drinking for Bepo’s
birthday which meant you had the time to organise your feelings and adequately deal with things between you and your Captain. You were also grateful that the abundance of hungover crew meant you would have extra privacy in case things weren’t resolved amicably. You walked down the corridor and stopped outside of Law’s office. Regardless of the previous night’s party he was always here first thing in the morning without fail. As always you knocked once out of courtesy and entered, closing the door firmly behind you. When you met his gaze you felt yourself freeze. You could see the realisation and hesitation you were feeling mirrored in his eyes. As comforting as that should have been you still couldn’t bring yourself to move closer or speak.
“About last night.” “We should talk.” You both spoke in unison, a hurried mess coming from both of your mouths as opposed to your usual calm and relaxed way of speaking around the other. You fidgeted where you stood and gestured for him to speak first while clearing your throat. Law watched you carefully and let out a long sigh, noting how tense you stood and how you kept looking into his eyes and dropping your gaze again only to repeat the action less than a second later. Were you only trying to maintain eye-contact with him out of respect but failed to do so because of shame? Was it regret? He knew how he felt but the last thing he wanted was to force something on you. “Last night I overstepped the mark. Yes we’d been drinking but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Oh…” You were taken by surprise by his somewhat stilted declaration. Had you misread things? You hadn’t thought so. Now you were even more confused and found disappointment spinning in your stomach, the feeling only furthering your awareness that you had genuine feelings for Law. You weren’t known to be insubordinate but today you felt like pushing things because his statement truly didn’t seem like the man you thought you knew. “Captain, you held my hand and I returned the gesture. That’s not overstepping the mark. That’s barely walking in the mark’s direction… Do you regret doing it?” As you spoke you couldn’t help but run your thumb over your fingers that had been in his hold mere hours ago. “Because I don’t.”
“Regardless…It’s unwise to further this topic.” Law tried to sound firm but he was honestly thrown, he hadn’t been expecting you to feel the same as he did but he’d spent all last night and this morning trying to convince himself his feelings were one-sided and that it was fine that way because he shouldn’t pursue a relationship with a member of his crew. He wasn’t one to get his hopes up and at the same time he was also one to deny himself of something that made him happy to prevent the pain of losing it in the future. “We would be better to leave things as they are before they escalate.”
“Does that mean you want things to escalate?” You asked coyly finally taking a step towards the desk he sat at.
“It wouldn’t be right for me to start something with my subordinate.” Law offered the argument, not able to give much weight to his words as he openly watched you approach, giving no inclination for you to stop or to leave. You both knew that had he wanted you out of his presence he would have either ordered you away or used his Devil Fruit to accomplish the task himself.
“Captain, we’re pirates. What’s right and wrong and rules don’t exactly apply to us. Do they?” You asked simply, keeping the desk separating you both to allow him his personal space as you smiled at him. “All that matters is what we want. I’ve been honest, will you be honest with me, Captain?”
Law stood and braced his hands on the desk, beginning to close the distance between you both. You’d made convincing points and deep down he hadn’t wanted to find a way to argue against them, not when it came to you and the feelings he’d finally accepted to himself that had been there for a very long time. “Are you sure about this?” He asked, offering you one final chance to take it back because he knew once this started he wasn’t going to let you go. Your answer was a simple one, you leant in with a smile and curled your fingers around his that were braced against the surface of the desk. The wordless but deep connection you had with each other was reestablished and cemented even further as you leant in, able to share a soft and tender kiss with your Captain. However the moment couldn’t be savoured for long because within seconds the chorus of calls echoed through the Polar Tang as the rest of the crew had awoken and were suffering their hangovers and calling for their Captain to help them cure it.
#one piece#one piece fic#one piece x you#one piece x reader#trafalgar law x reader#law x reader#trafalgardwaterlaw#one piece scenario#one piece imagines#one piece fanfiction#trafalgar law#one piece law#trafalgar d water law#trafalgar law x you#law x you#trafalgar one piece#trafalgar d law x reader#trafalgar op#law one piece
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𝓜EET THE FUSHIGURO'S — ( 𝕿 ) OJI FUSHIGURO │ "dear babygirl, i'm sorry that your father is not active inside your world." (angst)
not everyone has such a perfect life, but not everyone has such a complex life. things aren't meant to go in a straight line, but things also aren't meant to be in a bumpy ride. everything felt like a maze, trying to find a way to escape this hell hole without any blocks or bumps coming into life — your life, toji's life. everyone has goals, everyone has dreams, everyone can achieve some of their goals and dreams, but some of them don't. and it's fucking hard to overcome that.
being in a relationship with toji fushiguro, ah, toji fushiguro. you aren't married to him but somehow you managed to birth out two beautiful children, first being a beautiful baby boy, megumi fushiguro. he's identical to toji, same hair, same facial features, everything looked alike between the two. in the next few years, a beautiful baby girl now came into the world, tsumiki fushiguro. personality wise, she's just like you, a kind-hearted soul, a sweet girl who should be held with care. you know those stickers that are added to packages when you buy something that can break easily; "fragile. handle with care." yeah, that's tsumiki, and you.
even if the family of four didn't have all the luxury, they say that it's the littlest things that can balm your shell.
remember how you used to be so fragile, so kind, and so, so sweet. well that wasn't permanent, and it was only temporary as soon as toji was on and off with family. you know he's working, but you don't know what or who he's working for or who he's even working with. even a man can have his own struggles; but what kind? gambling problems? drinking problems? pill-popping and spending problems? bad with money? only toji knows.
"mama when is daddy coming back?" "is daddy gonna come to my ninth birthday?" "are we gonna watch frozen with daddy?" "is daddy gonna help us with our timetables?"
those questions tire you because you don't know, you really don't. you wish you could explain where he's at, but with so little information and so little contact, you don't know where the fuck that man is.
until this one night where you left yourself and toji into shambles.
carefully leaving your bed in which tsumiki and megumi are currently sleeping in, you set yourself off to leave and relax on the living room. it took some time for the kids to sleep, it took more time for you to even sleep despite having to wake up early for work tomorrow.
not until the jangling keys were hear through the front door, and the loud creak audibly heard across the hallway and onto the living room. he's here. you looked across the room just to make sure it was him, even though you know it is him because he's the only one that has a spare apartment key to his own place. or rather your place now.
"the fucking nerve," you grumble under your breath, a vein almost popping out of your skin. getting up from the couch you came up to him, the reeking scent of alcohol lingered just two feet away from you. the musky scent of sweat and dirt combined with such a foul smell that made your whole face twist and scrunch. eye bags were visible, hair disheveled and greasy, lips chapped, breath probably smelling horrible, and clothes needing to be washed asap. he's a fucking mess.
"mm- what? 'm home..." he spoke lowly, scratching his head as he always kept up his nonchalant nature. one of his hands held a medium sized plastic bag, hanging lazily between his fingers. "yeah no shit." you said sternly, arms crossing in disbelief as your eyes followed all over him like he was some sort of homeless person. "what's up with you? why're mad, babe..?" he cocked a brow, energy low and definitely not in the mood to hear your constant babbling.
you scoffed. what is up with you anyway? is he fucking with you? "what's up with me is that you didn't come home in almost about a month. you look like a fucking mess and you smell like absolute shit." now the jet black haired man knew that shit was getting serious, the way you're just talking to him like that, and the way you're saying that he smells like shit. he needs to tighten up because your points are right about him. "what a nice way to welcome me back, thought i was expecting a kiss or sumn'–"
"are you kidding me, toji? showing up at midnight and acting all nonchalant and shit. you don't understand how fucking worried i was for you? even the kids were asking me about you, keeping them on their toes everyday without any news from you and praying that you'll be okay. do you understand what you are fucking putting me through just now? work was the only thing being up my ass and now there are multiple other things that i have in my hands and in my care." you rasped, eyebrows pinching together as frustration slowly seeped into your nerves, holding back the urge to lash at him. "instead of you, the man of the house, having all the courage to take care of its family, you fucking destroy it. fucking us all up." your hands ball into fists, the whole scene turning into a tense argument.
"you should've been teaching megumi his timetables, or maybe watching frozen with tsumiki. you missed out on my baby girl's birthday, she just turned nine and i could tell that her birthday wish was for you to come back." slowly, your voice started to crack, salty tears welling up your dropping eyes. "and what have you been doing during those times where i've worked my ass off overtime at a fucking convenient store? huh? i'm so tired, toji, and i bet you are too. but the way you're just unexpectedly showing up when you're the reason you've put me at my lowest is fucking unacceptable." you spat, a streak of tear running down your cheek. toji exhales deeply, knowing how you feel and it was actually his fault that you turned out this way. guilt and frustration washes through him, not having any other excuse about his absence.
"look, the point is that 'm here now. and i promise that i won't leave without letting you know, i promise i'll build a connection with our kids–" and then again, you interrupted his promises. "promise? hah– you? promising something that you'll do again? make up your fucking mind, toji. you broke our promises, you said that you'll marry me someday; that's a fucking lie. you said you'll get payed more and pay off our bills; that's also a fucking lie because you're using that shit to buy rum and gamble out the money that could save our life. look at you, fucking pathetic. you're embarrassing yourself at this point because i know what your true intentions are, toji. are you still popping pills to keep yourself at your feet? did you fuck whores at a brothel while you're at it?" those bitter and heartless words have left toji in shock, of course it has, you know him well and clear — like he was an open book to you.
"did you buy tsumiki the barbie doll that she asked for a few months ago? or did you gamble that money?" you asked, tilting your head slightly as your expression was evident that you were not buying this. "because i know for sure that i was counting pennies at the grocery store to buy that fucking toy for tsumiki–" you spat, holding back from having a psychotic episode before toji's gruff voice interrupted you now. "don't speak like that if you're going to mention our daughter." he gives off a warning, but you could only scoff at disbelief at it, why's he all of a sudden caring so much? "our daughter? no no no, you barely did shit for her and now you're trying to be on your goody-two-shoes to act like you care about our daughter? where were you when i gave birth to her, huh? where were you when i gave birth to megumi?" your voice echoed through the hallway, the argument getting louder that the kids would probably hear it.
"megumi, why's mommy yelling?" tsumiki asked in a hoarse voice, waking up to the ruckus happening outside of the bedroom. megumi softly hushed the little girl, placing his hands that are slightly bigger than hers to her ears, muffling your shouts and derogatory words. "it's gonna be okay, she's just talking to daddy..." he murmured reassuringly, hiding the fact that he's on the edge of tearing up after finding out the truth about the absence of his father.
"you're acting like you did most of the work when you haven't been on my shoes." toji stated, his stomach twisting at the fact that you bought up the way he wasn't with you during labor. "because i did most of the work you dickhead! you barely didn't show up for your own family, for your own lover who was giving birth to your fucking kids! how would you think i was feeling during that time toji?! squeezing the nurses hand instead of yours while i was popping my ass off to give you two beautiful kids into this shitty life!" you shouted, already having a mental breakdown as more tears bubbled within your lower lashline. "you never open about yourself, you never show any ounce of affection ever since we had kids, you never did the bare minimum to show that you still love us! you're a fucking disappointment toji! you don't know nothing about taking care of things. waking up the kids? know nothing about that. teaching them basic human decency? know nothing about that. telling them to pray? know nothing about that. taking them to school? you know nothing about that." and that was the breaking point. the plastic bad dropped down to the floor as his calloused hands quickly loomed over to you to grab you at your shoulders.
"call me a disappointment one more time 'n see what fucking happens." he shook you like you were mentally ill, thinking that some sense would come to your mind. but could you let him get this physical with you? fuck no. "don't touch me you freak!" you squealed, hands that are smaller than his large ones grab his wrists as an attempt to pull away from his embrace. "can you take a second to understand what i've been going through?! jesus... haven't had a single moment to express myself for just a fucking minute." he grunts, the grip on your shoulders loosening up as he wasn't daring himself to even hurt you. no way.
"and what do you have to say to this, huh?! stop trying to figure out a useless excuse so that i could come back to you like nothing happened." you sniffled through your nose, soft hiccups eliciting through your slightly swollen lips. "please just hear me out–" toji exclaims, showing an ounce of vulnerability that he wasn't planning on expressing. "no! take your fucking shit and leave this goddamn place," you quickly push him away from your personal bubble, grasping the plastic bag and slamming it at his chest. "you're nothing but a fucking deadbeat who doesn't even deserve to be called a 'father'." and with that, he's standing by the front doorway, mentality absolutely destroyed as his face uttuerly grew pale. this was it. this was over.
"if you weren't raised in such a fucked up clan, maybe you shouldn't have been such a shit dad."
-
the aftermath of the argument left toji having a hole to his stomach. it was like daggers were digging deeper and deeper into his gut. what you yelled and screamed at him for was probably right, maybe he is a shit father; maybe he was born in a fucked up family and turned out this way. the plastic bag swung between his thick fingers, walking like a kicked puppy in the rain as he was lost in his thoughts.
a nearby trash can was visible along his way, now carelessly throwing away the bag and discarding it with the rest of the trash and pests that were there. what was in that bag anyway? take-out? alcohol? meds? no. they were two gifts that megumi and tsumiki were asking for a few months ago. a pretty blonde barbie doll in her pink little dress, and a few stacks of digimon cards. all of that went to waste.
meet the fushiguro's.
note: phewww, that was a lot. updating my masterlist tmrw. have a good night everyoneeeeeeeeee.
⠀( OWNED BY ) STARGIRLO.
do not plagiarize any of my works , translate them , or repost them anywhere around any other social media platform . thank you .
#( xoxo ) ✶ rosalina !#was doing ts mid-way & i was like “omg idek if it's making sense”#hopefully he wasn't much ooc bc i tried to make it sound like him as much as possible#and also connect with his backstory a little bit but w a litte twist#anyway hopefully this was angsty enough or whatevaaaa!#toji fushiguro x reader#toji x reader#jjk toji#toji x you#fushiguro toji#toji fushiguro#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen angst#anime x reader#anime x y/n#toji fushiguro angst#fushiguro toji x reader#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#anime x female reader#jjk x fem!reader
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Whisper of the Forgotten | pt. 8
pairing: azriel x reader | type: angst | words: 2,6k words | warnings: none | masterlist
Azriel doesn’t say anything for a long moment. For so long, it makes you wonder if he will ever give you an answer. You watch how his throat bobs when he swallows, his eyes closing. You watch his chest lift with deep inhales.
“I am aware that this is exactly what I deserve for hurting you so much.”
Your eyes close, the back of your mouth aching.
“I broke the bond without even knowing it. I ruined the one thing I had been hoping for for so long, and I lost the person I loved most through my actions.”
He falls silent after this, and you can visibly make out how his heart breaks even more, cracks open completely and tears dwell in his eyes. Hd is a broken male, that is for sure, the actions of his past haunting him just like what has been done to him in his childhood.
“It is still there,” you find yourself saying after a moment of dense quietness. You can’t stand it anymore. “The bond has not completely vanished, I can still feel the pull.”
You find it hard to look at him, not wanting to see his expression, how torn he looks, how much this revelation broke him.
Azriel slowly starts to shake his head, his hand sliding over his chest, right above his heart, then he drops it.
“You can reject it.” Azriel’s voice is thick with emotion. “I want you to reject it. I can’t bind you to me, Y/N. I can’t force you to be bound to the person that hurt you so much, to make you stay with me–”
“You can’t tell me what to do, Azriel.” Now you lift your chin and meet his gaze. “This is my decision, and if I want to give it a chance, us a chance, again…” Your voice breaks the moment a sob crashes into it, and you start to cry again, lowering your face to your arm, crying silent tears into your skin. “Forgiveness is so hard, forgetting even harder and I know that I will never manage to do the latter, but I want to give us time. I want to give us a chance, to get to know each other again and to find forgiveness.”
You wipe your tears away on your arm, pushing up on your elbow so you can look at him. “I now know your reasons and even though they don’t remove the trauma or the pain they caused me. But I now at least have answers to my century-long questions – to why you hurt me, why you had to do everything you did.”
“I was the biggest asshole to not tell you earlier, to not come to the Prison and just explain. I was a coward.”
“You were,” you honestly answer, but your eyes close. “But I also know that I probably wouldn’t have listened. I would have been too wrapped up in my anger and hurt to listen or understand.”
Azriel’s eyes close again. “I was still a coward, a massive asshole, and don’t deserve you.”
“This is not about deserving each other, Azriel,” you softly whisper. “This is about healing, growth and moving on, about learning to forgive.”
You pause, trying to calm your heart that starts to beat a little faster with deep breaths. “I am not sure if I can ever forgive you, Azriel. If my heart will ever allow me to do so, but I am glad we talked. It was important for us to do so.”
“It was,” Azriel agrees, voice tinged with sadness. He tips his head back and looks at the ceiling. You follow his line of sight, only staring into the darkness and his shadows floating atop both of you.
“What were you afraid to find?”
Azriel is calm, then turns his head again, looking at you. You feel his gaze, sharp and piercing. “I don’t understand.”
“You said you were afraid to go see me, that you were a coward. What were you afraid of to find?”
A cold huff leaves him and then he brings his hand up, wiping it down his face. “I was afraid to find exactly what I saw in your eyes when I opened the cell door - hurt and betrayal. I hurt you so much, and I knew I would find it in those eyes that I once fell in love with.” He swallows thickly. “But I was also afraid I would be at a loss of words. That I would never be able to find the right words to talk to you. I betrayed you, hurt you so much and I knew you would never forgive me.”
You hum in understanding.
“We needed you for help, but it was the perfect reason for me to get you out. I was forced to do so, forced to no longer be such a fucking coward. I had to go, and I wanted nothing more than to do it. There was no way back anymore. I was forced to go, and finally grew some balls to do so.” He shakes his head. “I knew what I would find there. I knew you would hate me, but I knew it was finally time for us to meet again. I had the Harp and I couldn’t wait any longer. There was a way to free you, a chance I had to take and finally could do so.”
You loose a long breath and close your eyes. You shift a little on the bed, then turn to your side and rest your head on the pillow. “I will stay here tonight if that is alright.”
You need to seal your broken heart, comfort your soul, and even if there might be no future for the two of you, this is one step into the right direction of healing.
“Always,” Azriel whispers, and you feel the bed dip, and him move. Carefully, he is tugging his blanket over you, he is still lying atop. “You want me to move to the couch.”
“No, it’s alright.” You are tired, exhausted, the conversation and the day has drained you. You only want to sleep, exhaustion nearing in waves that slowly start to drown you. Your lids are so heavy, you can’t force them open any longer. You only want to sleep.
You tug at the blanket, signalling Azriel to slide beneath it. His closeness used to worry you, not that much anymore, knowing he won’t hurt you here. Won’t hurt you again, now that you have seen his remorse, scented his regret.
It will be alright, you know it.
He follows your request, and then lies down beside you, not touching you. Moments pass, moments full of deafening silence where you, despite your tiredness, can’t fall asleep. His presence doesn’t irritate you, he closeness doesn’t bother you (anymore) but it still feel strange lying here with him. Sleeping in the same bed as him after centuries of distance.
“Did you plan on how you would kill me once you get free?” Azriel then whispers and you feel something stroke over your exposed shoulder. It isn’t Azriel, but rather his shadows.
A huff leaves you. “Every day and in very much detail how I would go about it.”
He doesn’t smile in response, he only looks at you, watches you closely until he says, “I thought so.”
You don’t answer him, only curl your fingers around the blanket, hoping to just drift off into a dreamless sleep. But Azriel has different plans. He shifts on the bed, somehow uncomfortable, and then says into the darkness.
“I wasn’t only scared of what I would find, I was also ashamed.” He clears his throat. “I couldn’t look you in the eyes, I couldn’t even look myself in the eyes nor my brothers. I had no idea how to tell anyone, how to explain what I had done. I was a fucking coward and ashamed of the measures I took.”
“You were scared, Azriel,” you whisper. “And fear lets us do unspeakable things.”
Night and sleep falls upon you a moment after, a light comfort hovering above your hearts that makes you eventually fall asleep.
───── ⋆⋅ ☽☾ ⋅⋆ ─────
You slip out of his room before Azriel or anyone else in the House of Wind wakes up. You don’t want to face Azriel, not in the mood to talk to him and unsure of what to say to him.
In addition, you also don’t want to face Nesta or Cassian, not wanting to have to explain to them that you just talked and nothing happened. They would probably read more into it, and maybe even find hope. Hope you don’t want to give them.
Once back in your room, you take a long moment to think, sitting down on your windowsill, leaning your forehead against the cool window, staring outside, over the still dark city, slowly waking up.
Many thoughts cloud your mind, and despite Azriel always being in the foreground, you know that opening the box, defeating Koschei and getting your powers back is more important. You need your amulet back and you would go through hell for it. You will demand it back that day, that is clear. They have to give it to you. Then you will open the box and form a plan on how to go forward. How you will fight against Koschei, who you have to ready. And how you can start a new life in the place you were born.
You have often found yourself wondering what the Middle has turned into, what it looks like now, after centuries. You can’t wait to go back there. You haved lived there for a long time before the Wilde Hunt led you north and you ended up in the Night Court.
The Wild Hunt.
It has been on your mind a lot lately. They…have been. You could rally them again, reform your group, lead them, maybe alongside the Valkyries…and fight alongside them, once again reunited, as one.
───── ⋆⋅ ☽☾ ⋅⋆ ─────
“So, using this spell we can open it. Our hands need to be connected, Nesta, in the other hand you will be holding Ataraxia.” You pause so they can all process the information you have just provided them with.
Azriel said nothing to you, nor to Cassian or Nesta when he entered the kitchen in the morning. He only looked at you, then dipped his chin and smiled slightly. You returned this gesture.
You also haven’t spoken during breakfast, and not until you found yourself gathered around the desk in Rhysand’s office.
“But I need my amulet back for this. I need my powers.” You lift your gaze and look at Rhys first, then at Azriel. “I want it back now. I have proven my loyalty, I agreed to help you and you should know by now that I won’t harm you. It is the least you could do.”
“How do we know you won’t just run off? Or blow everything up the moment—”
Your palm slams down on the wooden table, making it groan with the impact of your loud slap. “Because I have proven my loyalty!” you growl and spin around to Amren. “Why should I do that? Do you also deem me such a cruel, sadistic monster that everyone thinks I am?”
You walk up to her until you are in her face. “You have been in Prison as well and yet they trust. What if you go berserk in this city?”
“Give her the amulet back, Rhys!“ Amren snaps and steps backwards.
But the High Lord hesitates.
“No, Rhys. She is right. And she has a right to her possessions.”
Slowly, Rhysand nods and then tips his head at Azriel, momentarily holding eye-contact with the shadowsinger and you know he is talking to him mind-to-mind. The shadowsinger bows his head in return and walks backwards a few steps before slipping out of the room.
Your gaze has been locked on him the whole time. And now that he is gone and you know you will get your amulet back, your heart is beating in your throat, anticipation rising. Your heirloom will finally be yours again, and your powers will return in full force. You need your amulet to channel them, it is similar to the siphons the Illyrians wear.
You feels how your palms turn a little clammy, and inhale a few deep breaths, hoping to calm yourself as much as needed. But the idea of finally being fully yourself again, excites you too much for that to be possible.
“Why do you need Nes for that? Can’t you do it alone?” Cassian‘s low rumble disturbs your day-dreaming about your powers and you whip your head into his direction.
“Because your mate has more power blazing through her veins than you could ever imagine, Cassian.” You smile at the female in question and then turn back to her mate. “And exactly that sort of power in connection with her sword is needed. I need someone that powerful on my side to fulfill—”
“Rhys is the most powerful High Lord,” Cassian cuts in, and you laugh.
“He might be. But his power is useless here. A different kind of power is needed, one that can only be found in people like us.” You tip your chin at Nesta and then at Amren. “Like calls to like, and that is why we need to combine our strengths.”
Cassian huffs, but a bright smile lights up the Valkyrie‘s face, a hint of pride shimmering in her eyes and when she meets her mate’s gaze, his eyes take on a similar glow.
You want to add that he should indeed be proud, but you get no chance to do so. Azriel returns right in this moment, the amulet dangling from his scarred hand.
You watch how his chest heaves with a deep intake of air. Then he moves closer. “Do you want someone else to put it back on?”
You give your head a shake and then huff. “You were the one to take it off, Azriel, you need to put it back on.” You hold his gaze as he moves closer, step by step.
You can see the whirlwind in his eyes, and how hard he is clenching his jaw. “Can you lift your—nevermind, please turn around.”
You are sure the room is holding its breath just like every person within it, you included. His scarred fingertips touch your shoulders first, brushing away your hair. “Can you lift them up please?”
You do as told and slowly, his hands reach around you. The amulet is cool at first but once it is flush with your skin it starts to buzz, humming with power. Your face lights up, and vibrations flow through your veins, making your fingertips feel tingly — the amulet is back and your powers have reached it peeked again. Of course, you need to train to be able to really use them again but the first step is accomplished.
Azriel’s hands are still on you when you turn back to him and lovk eyes with him again.
“Thank you,” you whisper.
“Not for that,” he mumbles. “Don’t thank me for returning what always belonged to you.” His hand lifts and he brushes his hand over your head. “You look beautiful.”
Your breath catches and yoh know that despite hating it and trying so hard to fight against it, your love for him is starting to burn again, and forgiveness is truly an option already.
You don’t want to let this happen. Can’t let it happen. Not yet at least.
You quickly step back. “Let’s open that damn box, shall we?”
general tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii @nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22 @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @azrielsmate2 @callmeblaire @lilah-asteria @berryzxx
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❥# — 𝘐𝘯𝘧𝘰 angst to comfort?, crying, softie shigaraki,
☆ — 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 this is his last visit.
❣︎ — 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 this is for all the shigaraki lovers (including me). this takes place in season 5 so slight spoilers but it’s not a big spoiler, so I hope you guys enjoy 🫦.
next story is bakugo!
“ 𝖮𝗇𝖾 𝖫𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝖵𝗂𝗌𝗍 “ 𝖳𝖮𝖬𝖴𝖱𝖠 𝖲𝖧𝖨𝖦𝖠𝖱𝖠𝖪𝖨 𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍
❤︎︎# — SHIGARAKI this was going to be his last visit he did for a good awhile.
it made his heart clench. a feeling that was entirely new to him, he won't be able to see, or even touch you..the thought of not being able to do those things made him irk but he had to do it. since his quirk— decay has gotten a lot stronger and more adapted the doctor agreed to giving tomura what he wanted.
the league or anyone else hasn't said anything to you yet from his order— wanting to tell you himself. so here he was, by your bedroom door watching you sleep. you looked so..peaceful. you were hugging a pillow with the covers half off your body wearing the little bonnet he had gotten you. he sighed walking towards the side of your bed crouching down a bit, luckily since he had gloves on he got to touch you one last time. he placed his hand on your cheek, with a short smile something he's never genuinely done before. you shifted a bit feeling a cold hand on your skin, groggily, you epened your eyes. It was blurry but once you gain vision you were able to see, tomura was in front of you and he looked..a bit different?.
his usual blue hair was now white, his face looked more sharper and clean and his body? he was more muscular, he was wearing a black shirt that hugged his body really well. what was he up to?. almost immediately you placed your hand on top of his, yawning. "you didn't break my door this time did you?." you joked, tomura shook his head with a small smile, "no, I didn't." and his voice too? more deeper and raspy. but you nodded your head, "you sound different..let alone look different. you hit puberty?." you joked now sitting up as tomura rolled his eyes with a sarcastic laugh, "funny. but no I didn't, I assume it has something to do with my quirk adapting.." you spoke a small 'oh' as you took a. strand in your hand. it looked nice. “would you be mad if I said this hair color fits you more?.” he shook his head with a small grin, you also smiled.
"good, because it does. I’ll miss the blue hair though” you chuckled “..but what're you doin here? aren’t you supposed to be somewhere?." he hoped you wouldn’t have asked this question, you seen the reaction on his face. he looked..upset? furrowing your eyebrows you grabbed ahold of his hand. "what's wrong my love?." your soft voice..his hand twitched against your own looking down, "this will be my last visit for awhile." confused. "what do you mean, last visit?." he looked up this time, "doc agreed to give me what I wanted after I proved myself to him." he looked down at his hand, but..doesn't that mean..your eyes widen a bit, "I don't know how long It'll take bu—!." you cut him off by hugging him tightly. he almost fell over by how fast your Impact was but Instantly wrapped his hands around you, his heart clenched again. he didn't want to leave you but after so many long months— years..he finally got what he wanted.
from the tremble of your body tomura knew you were crying but trying so hard to not make It noticeable. you clenched tighter against his neck not wanting to let him go, but you had to. shigaraki softly caressed your hips letting this moment sink In. never in a million years would he had thought he would feel like this, clenching heart, smiling..you were the only person to get him to break. to be so soft too, he would do anything for you, kill for you. he loves you. after a few minutes or so you pulled back from him with a smile of your own, tomura looked at you with soft eyes placing his hand on your cheek wiping away the remaining tears. you looked so pretty when you cried. "as long as you come back to me I'll be fine." you chuckled, he gave another small smile, "I always come back to you sweetheart."
"I'm holding this against you." you teased leaning In to take his lips with yours which he Instantly accepted. the kiss was soft and warm, yet so meaningful. the kiss you shared soon broke apart, leaning your head against his, ”you have to promise me one thing.” he spoke, you looked at him with a nod, “anything.” he breathed In then out, “stay out of the city. I don’t want you caught up in that mess let alone getting hurt. so promise me.” the look in his eyes were serious. despite being confused of this request you nodded your head, “I promise.” he nodded, “good.” — "despite that, how long till you leave?." shigaraki hummed, "not till tomorrow." — "then let's make the most of this.." when you said this, he instantly knew what you meant. you wanted to cuddle with him, laid in bed with him. right when you hit your comforter again laying on his chest, you fell asleep. even though you didn't want too, sleep took over you almost immediately. but as for shigaraki he couldn't sleep knowing this is the last visit before awhile, he traced a long your back and hip sighing. he's going to miss you so much. he knows the league will take care of you by his orders but it still ached him that he had to leave you. all the hate he has in his heart he was able to make a tiny space just for you.
his one love.
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