#her anecdote was not at all what i was expecting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vultbae · 5 months ago

Text

small world ❀

art donaldson x female reader

part two (soon)

↳ summary: Art and Patrick were once your peers at the Mark Rebellato Academy —not the nicest ones. Five years later, you've made a friend that can help you fuck with their minds a little.

↳ warnings: making out, dry humping, manipulation, a lot of pettiness, mentions of bullying, and weight!! the dumbification of art donaldson tbh

↳ notes: Istg I be having the most random ideas, but I hope you enjoy!! as always, english is not my first language lolz

word count: 3.1k

Tashi enters the living room with a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes, moving gracefully in a beautiful blue mini-dress. With a soft pop, she eases the cork, instantly pouring the effervescent gold-ish liquid into the two glasses.

"You shouldn't even worry about them," Tashi says with a wry smile. As she finishes serving you some rosé Veuve Clicquot, she hands you the glass. "What are you—like, the second or third in Europe? They are gonna be broke by their thirties," she concludes, staring at you with confident eyes.

You nod, taking a sip of champagne. "Don't see it as serious; it'll be fun."

Tashi raises her glass, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. "Im just saying, don't stress over men."

You clink your flute against Tashi’s. "Alright."

A year and a half ago, you had met Tashi Duncan, who you believed was a hard-hearted bitch but ended up being a close friend of yours. She is merciless, proficient, and goddamn; she has that vicious aura you worship so much. While living in Biot, you'd always look for the nearest CRT to watch Tashi flawlessly play, enchanted by how she unnerved her adversaries.

During summer break, your father dragged you out of the academy to visit California for a benefaction event. Amidst the glamour and chatter of the event, you caught sight of Tashi —most likely attending due to her relevance spiking around the area. Luckily, your connection rapidly deepened, fueled by reciprocal admiration and tennis dependence.

And the commitment to stay in touch despite the geographical distance worked. Tashi became pretty much your best friend, and you became hers. Aside from the workaholic aspect, the resemblances between you were too much to ignore. Sooner than later, you discovered much about Tashi's personal life, the players she liked and despised, and her daily anecdotes regarding tennis and her intimate life. And that's how you became acquainted with Fire and Ice's peculiar hyper-fixation on Tashi.

Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig.

You thought it was a unique offering from God. You didn't expect you'd get the opportunity to face the golden pair again. When Tashi told you she had met Zweig and Donalson, a powerful sentiment of gratitude washed over you. You nearly fell to your knees when she proceeded to explain they were a walking boner for her. If that wasn't high power granting you a second chance to delight yourself, it was an insane coincidence.

But telling Tashi the backstory was a different pain in the ass. Although she expressed some sort of disgust towards Zweig and Donaldson's brainless carnal-based attitude, you couldn't buy it. And your skepticisms were demonstrated as valid when she —dreamy voice and all that shit— confessed through the phone she nearly had a threesome with them. A fucking threesome. You couldn't hold it back anymore, so you told her everything.

Tashi was aware of tennis's influence on your household, as you were raised by two renowned tennis coaches from the States. When you turned eight, your parents turned you in at the Mark Rebellato Academy —as if you were condemned to play tennis by default. The detrimental part of your journey was developing thyroid issues when you were twelve. Jesus, twelve years old — the commencement of the preteen period where kids either kiss your feet or bully you. One year after, along with the anticipated weight gain, you met Art and Patrick. And as if you weren't unfortunate enough already, the two —who at the time looked like fucking Beavis and Butthead— decided they didn't like your physical appearance. They hated it.

“Hey, Y/l/n!” Patrick’s voice rang out, sharp and mocking.

You froze, your heart sinking to the underground. You tried to focus on your serve, but your hands were immobile.

Patrick sauntered over, his smirk widening as he looked you up and down. “What’s the matter, Y/n? Ball too heavy for you to lift?”

You heard Art’s laughter behind your back. He joined in a kind of trembling voice. “Or maybe she’s saving her strength for lunch. She doesn't hesitate when it comes to eating.”

The echo of them and the rest of the kids on the court laughing was a sound that felt like daggers piercing your heart.

After two years of ceaseless bullying and humiliation—which also distracted you from tennis—your parents sent you to The Mouratoglou Tennis Academy in Biot, a small town in France. You are not sure if it was the harassment itself, the low self-esteem, or possibly your undeniable attraction for Donaldson. It didn't matter. By the age of seventeen, you were undoubtedly one of the major promises of European tennis.

So, explaining the theatrical, soap opera-like backstory to Tashi for your detestation of Zweig and Donaldson took time. But when you did, it was worth it because Tashi didn't distrust your testimony, and if anyone was exhilarated to play some moves against them at the beginning, it was Duncan.

That's the explanation behind Tashi pitching a tremendous party to celebrate her commitment to Stanford. This was absurd, to say the least, considering she had college offers piling up, and no one doubted she would commit to a prestigious school. But Tashi knew you'd visit from France, and this was just the perfect instance to hook you up with both condemned.

Because, of course, her biggest fangirls would attend.

It didn't take long until the country house was full of people ranging from Tashi's cousins to bare acquaintances. And spotting Fire and Ice was easier than you thought.

Tashi elbows you discreetly and signs with her head the direction they are standing. "There they are."

Your gaze falls over Art, who is laughing with —who you assume is—Patrick. His features are sharper and more defined. The lanky, slender physique you remembered from his premature teenage years had filled out into a more athletic build, with broader shoulders tapering to a trim waist covered in a light pink shirt. His blonde hair, which was no longer too light, was now strawberry blonde-ish, slightly tousled, and cascading over his ears.

Patrick, standing a few feet away, was equally transformed. His brunette hair, just a bit longer than you remember, frames a face that had hardened over the years—angular jaw, defined cheekbones, and piercing eyes that seem to miss nothing. The fucking smirk is still there, and you can see how he displays it every two seconds at whatever thing Art is telling him.

The interior of your stomach resembles a volcano about to erupt. You feel ambivalent, so many emotions overlapping each other. You see two cute, hell, gorgeous guys, and you wish you could approach them without considering crucifying them before. And you can't help but feel envious at how effortlessly Tashi managed to tame Art and Patrick while the only thing you got from them was hostility.

Your eyes can't seem to unbuckle from them. Tashi catches you slightly frowning at the panorama, and she isn't certain if you are infatuated or planning murder on the spot. "Come on."

You have no time to react before Tashi leads you through some partygoers to reach where Zweig and Donaldson are. Like dogs sniffling fresh meat, it's pathetic how their heads twist simultaneously when Tashi approaches them, conversation instantly pausing. It is as if Tashi's presence was magnetic for them.

"Well, hello, both of you," Tashi greets them excitedly, still holding your hand. "Didn't think you'd come."

Art's eyes widen, "Are you kidding?" he's about to keep speaking, but his gaze merges with yours for a split second, and he shuts off. Dead. Silent.

"—Stanford's a big deal, Tashi." Patrick interrupts, compensating for the awkwardness of Art's sudden number. "I had to drag this lazy fuck out of his bed, but we made it."

Suddenly, Art's out of the trance, tearing his blue eyes off you to bombard Patrick with a killer look. "Hey—shut up, Patrick."

Tashi sweetly, softly giggles at their word exchange. God, she's good, you think. Tashi turns to gesture to you, "This is my friend, Claire, by the way. She is visiting from the Mouratoglou Academy—

To be fair, Claire is a believable name.

"Wait, the Patrick Mouratoglou Academy? In France?" Art runs over Tashis's sentence, incredulously shooting you a broad-eyed glare. You nod in agreement, still processing you are having a civil conversation with Art Donaldson.

You feel Tashi squeezing your hand at your quietness.

"Yeah, you know it?" you timidly ask, forcing a polite smile that, if you were Art, you wouldn't buy it. But, of course, he's as dumb as a pigeon.

"Heck... Of course, I do. I wish I could go there."

Tashi smirks, enjoying the spectacle.

Patrick’s investment in the conversation piques. "Mouratoglou, huh? That's impressive. Maybe we could hit the court sometime."

And that's the first time Patrick makes eye contact with you. He's stabbing you with his stare. You abruptly wonder if he's as dumb as Art, probably not.

You squeeze Tashi's hand.

Tashi leans closer to Patrick, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "Hey, Pat... do you remember what you mentioned about erectile dysfunction? My aunt's a sexologist, I think—

Patrick loudly chuckles, apparently alarmed by the deficiency of filtering confidential information. "I need to smoke sum' stronger. Wanna come, Tash?"

Tashi purses her lips, casting a quick glance at you. "Sure."

Your point of view is like a sitcom scene, swiftly panning from Tashi's body leaving your radar to the boy in front of you, staring at you with soothing eyes and reddened cheeks. It's basically comical.

Art's eyes dart around the lively yard before landing back on you. He clears his throat. "So, uh, Claire? That's a cute name."

It takes tons of willpower not to drop the good girl act right there. You attempt to return the sentiment with a quirk on the corner of your lips. "I need to get a drink. Come with me?"

He shakes his head up and down, finding it easier than answering with words.

For the first time in a couple of months, the inside of Art's mind has more than a giant cardboard cutout of Tashi Duncan. He is in awe.

You lead the way, weaving through clusters of drunk teenagers towards the house. You feel Art's gaze lingering on your back —or ass, you don't know—a magnetic pull that makes you hyper-aware of his presence.

You arrive in the kitchen and quickly grab a bottle of vodka, a can of soda, and a party cup. Art watches you closely with a look of hypnotic admiration as if you were concocting the most complicated cocktail in the world. You want to roll your eyes so badly.

"That dress looks amazing on you." Art blurts out, unable to contain his thoughts any longer.

You look at him. Art is sitting on one of the high stools by the kitchen island, his elbow resting on the table's sleek surface, supporting his chin with his hand. There is a softness in his eyes completely foreign to you, an infrequent vulnerability that contrasts sharply with the characteristic asshole demeanor you remember.

To Art, you appear almost ethereal, like an ideal concept from a wet dream of his. His thoughts are a kaleidoscope of jumbled fragments of memory that make no sense. You look so familiar... but no.

There's no way he would forget about you.

You glance up, a faint blush coloring your cheeks. "Thank you," you reply, handing him a drink.

Art sips on his red plastic cup, eyes hooked on yours. "So, uhm. I just realized I never introduced myself properly. Im Art—

"Yeah, Donaldson, I know." you cut him off, leaving him completely silent and confused. "I've seen you play. Not bad," you clarify, with an unconscious hint of pride in your voice.

Art's smile widens. "Wait, you've seen me play?" he exaggeratedly emphasizes me.

You nod.

His eyes twinkle with excitement. There’s this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "That's, uh, great. Next time you are watching, I'll play better..."

His innate nerdiness and try-hard flirtiness provoke nausea in you. If you didn't know him, it would be a different story. But seeing a former, intense crush who shamelessly bullied you for so long, giving you heart-shaped eyes...

It's fucking bizarre. And it pisses you off.

Art begins conversing about something else. You don't know what—tennis-related, maybe. You are not wearing earphones with noise cancellation, but you can't hear him anymore. It's a blur as his words course through one ear and depart through the other. Immediately. Your brain has simply blocked the action of listening to him.

You step closer, so close you can see the fine lines in his eyes, the flecks of green amidst the blue, with a hint of brown sectoral heterochromia on his right eye. You can smell the faint woody scent of his cologne, something spicy that makes you salivate. His lips keep moving, forming words that dissolve into the dim background noise. The music, the laughter, the chatter—they all blend into a distant hum.

Art's voice vanishes into oblivion as you fix your gaze on his mouth, the curve of his lips, the way they part and close as he speaks. "Art," you say, stopping him in his tracks.

His eyes flicker with uncertainty, puzzlement, and a spark of hope. His adam's apple throbs as he notices you staring at his lips.

You lean in, your breath mingling with his, your heart pounding in your chest. Your hand reaches up, fingers brushing against his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin and the slight stubble that prickles against your touch. Art's breath hitches, his eyes widening in surprise, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he leans in, too.

Your lips crash against his. Although you don't want to make it weird, you fail. It's not a gentle kiss or a precious, out-of-a-book lips meeting. It's fierce, instructing, a clash of sour sentiments and intent. You pour all your frustration, your pent-up anger, and your fucked-up desire to overpower him into that kiss.

Art's shock melts away and quickly replaces it with an appetite that matches yours. His strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, his body pressing against yours. The kiss deepens, his lips parting to allow your tongue to explore, to taste the unmistakable flavor of cigarette and cheap vodka. You can feel the warmth of his breath and the way his hands tighten on your waist. It's almost as if he's frightened you'll pull away at some point.

And you can only fantasize about the moment you walk away.

—but not yet. You push harder, your fingers tugging slightly in his messy strawberry-blonde hair. He lowly moans into your mouth, a sound that dispatches a shiver down your spine. His hands roam your back, tracing the curve of your spine and dangerously lowering to your ass level. There's a distress in his touch you never thought would come from him.

The way he's dissolving under your venomous touch is already a win for you. You've managed to put him under you. And it's intoxicating, this control you have over him, this ability to make him forget everything else.

You pull back, your lips hovering just above his. Art's eyes are half-lidded, his lips swollen and ridiculously red from the intensity of the kiss. He looks at you in pure infatuation, "What- I... Did I do something wrong?"

You press a finger to his lips, silencing him again. "Come with me."

You peek at the party going outside—most people are outside. The living room is nearly empty, with a few alcoholized individuals entering the country house to refill their drinks. It's perfect.

You take Art's hand, your fingers lacing through his, and you lead him toward the sectional, six-seat couch in the center of the living room. You push Art down onto the couch, and he complies without resistance, his lust-drunken eyes never leaving yours; he nearly chokes on his spit at the sight of you slowly straddling him, your knees sinking into the soft cushions on either side of his hips.

"Jesus, Claire—"

You get the ick at the roleplay name Tashi baptized you with.

"Shh," you whisper, leaning in to brush your lips against his in a soft, teasing kiss. "You never shut up, Donaldson."

And that's odd for him. He gives it a second thought because he isn't aware of how much he has talked, but definitely not that much.

The overthinking vanishes as soon as you begin to kiss him again, slowly at first, savoring the way his lips deliciously move against yours. Art's hands rest tentatively on your hips, his fingers twitching as if afraid to hold on too tight. You guide his hands around your waist, urging him to hold you closer. His grip tightens, and you can feel the heat of his palms through the delicate fabric of your black mini-dress.

A sigh rolls out from your throat when you perceive something hard putting pressure against your core —which, because of the dress, is only shielded by thin lace panties. The coarse fabric of Art's light denim jeans rubs splendidly against your pussy.

A primitive groan slips out of Art's lips the moment you grind your hips against his clothed dick. Suddenly, he breaks the kiss, and his eyes wander downwards. "Shit— you'll kill me," he pants into your mouth.

You pull back slightly, looking into his eyes. They're dark with craving, his pupils dilated. "Then let me."

You are about to attack his lips again, but he hesitates. You tilt your head in confusion, murmuring a low what?

Art starts to speak, his voice shaky and breathless. "I... I was wondering if you wanted to go back to my hotel with me."

Before you can respond, Tashi suddenly appears in your vision behind Art's head. "Claire, there you are," she says, fucking loud with a knowing, manipulative smile on her lips. "Your dad called, he's outside."

You feel a surge of delicious triumph as you see the apparent dissatisfaction in Art's eyes.

"Sorry, Art," you say, standing up and smoothing your dress. "Maybe another time."

There’s a raw sadness in his eyes, an almost childlike hurt that he can’t quite conceal. He isn't even drunk; he's fully conscious of the stunning girl he just met and now is evaporating as if she was going to turn into a wolf at midnight or something.

As you are about to disappear from Art's vision, he shouts at you, "I'll see you later, right?"

But you don't answer.

Instead, you hurriedly walk with Tashi to reach the front yard.

"I didn't lie about your dad being here, though," Tashi clarifies, pointing at the big Jeep parked in front of the country house.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, a smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, alright." You glance back at the house to ensure you are out of earshot. "I think fucking him would've been better. Do you think he's gonna remember about this tomorrow?"

"Oh, yeah. This is definitely gonna fuck his head up for a while." Tashi chuckles, "he's pretty obsessive."

You feel a swell of fulfillment at your best friend's words. "How obsessive?"

Tashi smiles. "A lot."

❀

#art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #challengers #challengers fanfic #challengers fic #fanfic #patrick zweig #tashi duncan #challengers x reader #tashi duncan x reader #x reader #female reader #fem reader #x female reader #art donaldson smut #challengers smut

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humanpurposes · 1 year ago

Text

Mine All Mine

Michael doesn't have a lot of friends, nor does he want them. Now he thinks he might have found his perfect match, and he has no intentions of letting her slip away

Main Masterlist

Michael Gavey x unnamed female character

Warnings: 18+, smut, Michael Gavey being a little shit (affectionately), possessive behaviour (yk the drill here)

Words: 7k

A/n: This ended up leaning into more of a cuter side, I definitely wanna do something creepier with him at some point! Also available to read on AO3.

He gets to the room early, before the tutor has even arrived. It’s his first tutorial of the year and his first ever at Oxford. He stands straight with his head up and his hands unmoving, a picture of neutrality. He has his problem sheet in his satchel and runs through the questions in his head, not because he needs to, not because he doubts himself, but simply because he can.

He doesn’t even like maths all that much, but he’s always been good at it. He had considered doing something a little less straightforward, physics or economics, but then what would be the point in getting into Oxford to be anything less than perfect?

He knows his tutor’s name from his schedule, Stephen Breyer. He arrives only a few minutes later and they go inside. The tutorial room is small, with three of the four walls covered in bookshelves. In the centre of the room there is a table, an armchair on one side and a small sofa on the other.

Michael takes the seat closest to the door. It puts him in a slightly more direct line of sight with Stephen. It also means his tutorial partner will inevitably have to climb over his legs to sit down and the thought amuses him.

“How are you finding it so far?” Stephen asks, unpacking a thermos flask and a notebook from his bag.

“It?” Michael repeats.

Stephen pauses and looks at him, slightly bewildered. “Well, the course, the college, Oxford. All of it.”

“Right,” Michael says. He takes his time taking out a pencil and his problem sheet before placing them on the table. He sits back against the sofa and rubs his lips together in thought.

He supposes it’s been exactly as he had expected. Lectures have been fairly straightforward, Lincoln college looks the same as it had in the prospectus, and so far, most of the people seem insufferable. So many of them have no sense of urgency, no drive to truly succeed because to them, Oxford is a rite of passage rather than an earned privilege. He’s met maybe one person he’d consider worthy of his time, and even then, Oliver Quick is only a literature student. He might as well get a degree in overthinking.

Stephen is looking at him like he is still expecting an answer. Michael stares back. He’s never been one to bother with smalltalk.

“Alright then,” Stephen says, then nods to the empty place on the sofa. “Do you know if–”

The door opens and a girl walks in, closing it gently behind her. “Sorry I’m late,” she says, eyes flickering around the room and settling on the space beside Michael.

He’s seen her before, in lectures, in the dining hall, walking around the college with her little group of friends. He wouldn’t be surprised if they were all Cheltenham girls by the way they talk and dress in the stupid outfits rich girls wear to make themselves seem like normal people.

He watches her as she walks towards him, the awkward little smile she gives him before she steps over his legs.

“Sorry,” she says again, falling onto the sofa. Michael almost winces at the sudden jolt of movement and the faint scent of a sweet perfume drifting from his left. “Had some trouble finding the room.”

“You’re right on time,” Stephen says, “we haven’t started yet.”

She’s better at the smalltalk than he is. She has a constant smile on her face and a bright look in her eyes, already having plenty of humorous anecdotes to share, despite the fact it’s only their second week.

As they go through the questions on the sheet, comparing calculations and answers, Michael is horrified to find that he’s a little nervous. His throat feels dry and he can feel his heart pulsing in his chest. It’s her fault, he thinks. Everything about her is distracting, the sound of her voice, the satisfied little hum she makes when she realises she’s got another question right. Her black tights, the way her skirt rides up her thigh when she crosses her legs.

He wants to think she’s vapid, a pretty face dressed up in black boots and a denim jacket, but to his dismay, all of their answers are the same, down to every detail in their calculations.

That is until they reach the last question. It’s terribly complex and he had almost struggled with it. Almost.

He steals a quick glance at her sheet and notices their answers are different. Because she’s missed a step, he realises. He feels a smile creeping across his lips.

He proudly goes through his working out, delighted at the surprised look on her face as she goes over her own sheet.

“I got something different,” she says with a shrug.

Stephen invites her to talk through her answer. Her voice is quieter and softer than it was before, but not as defeated as he’d like.

“She has you beat there, Mr Gavey,” Stephen says.

It’s like being punched in the gut. “What?”

“Overextend yourself a little,” he explains, drawing a line through the last few calculations on his paper. “Make sure to read what the question asks of you.”

His blood is boiling and his fists are clenched. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever been wrong. A dangerous impulse in the back of his mind wants to scream his throat raw and tear his paper to pieces.

Then he feels a warmth settle over his knuckles. She’s placed her hand over his.

“It’s a compliment, really,” she says to him.

He looks up at her, only more infuriated by the gentle expression on her face. But he knows better than to let anger get the better of him. It will only leave him feeling ashamed. So he forces a smile and nods. “Thank you.”

She smiles too, sweet and reassuring.

He can’t bear the humiliation. Once they’re dismissed he packs up quickly, practically storming out of the room before she even has a chance to stand up.

He spends the rest of the day in his dorm, looking over the same problem and pulling at his hair, because now his mistake seems glaringly obvious. How could he be so useless? So careless as to not even read the fucking question properly?

His room is on the second floor, overlooking the quad. There are always people around, walking between classes, sitting on the grass, their voices and the smell of cigarette smoke rising and drifting in through his window. He hates it. He hates the noise, the distraction.

But as he goes to close the open window he spots her. It’s only for a moment. She’s walking towards the library with her hands in the pocket of her jacket and her backpack slung over one shoulder. She’s not with any of her preppy friends, in fact she looks rather solemn.

He feels a slight twinge of guilt in his gut. Perhaps he had been a little unfair to her in their tutorial.

He keeps noticing her, especially at meal times and during lectures. Whenever he enters a room he finds himself searching for her, and if he cannot find her, he waits for her to appear. He plays guessing games with himself, waiting to see what outfit she’ll wear, the pretty mini skirt or a pair of faded blue baggy jeans. If she’ll be with her friends or if she’ll be alone.

He never approaches her. He waits for her to look at him, and once they’ve made eye contact she’ll smile at him.

He likes watching her, and comes to the conclusion that she is charming and polite, but not overbearing, and that’s what's so intriguing about her. She knows how to talk to people, even the most insufferable of their peers, but she’s not nearly entitled enough to truly be one of them.

It’s a Friday evening the next time they actually speak. The library tends to be quieter at this time and he has a textbook to look over before his next lecture. Only, when he goes to find the book, he discovers the last copy has been checked out a matter of minutes ago. Fucking typical.

He goes to stalk out of the library, debating whether or not he can be bothered to ask Oliver if he wants to grab a drink in The King’s Arms, when he sees her.

She’s alone, with her chin in her palm, writing in a notebook as she looks at the textbook open in front of her. He’s willing to bet that’s exactly the book he needs.

He approaches her slowly, waiting for her to look up and notice him, but she seems utterly absorbed in what she’s doing. Only when he puts a hand on the back of her chair and leans over her shoulder does she react to him.

He sees her jump when he gets too close. “Jesus Christ!” she hisses, clutching her hand over her chest.

“Sorry,” he mutters, still hovering over her. “Did I frighten you?”

She hums a laugh but composes herself quite quickly. She turns her head to look at him. “I’m guessing you want the book?” she says, her breath fluttering over his cheek.

He straightens his back so he can look down at her. “Will you have it for long? Only I think I’ll get through the reading quite quickly.”

“Oh yes of course, you’re a genius, right?” she says with a grin.

Irritation scratches under the surface of his skin, hot and restless. That’s how he usually introduces himself, but it’s the truth.

“We could just share,” she says, gesturing to the empty seat beside her, “that is, unless you don’t think I’ll be able to keep up.”

There’s something exciting about the way she holds his gaze, the hint of a smile on her lips.

She offers to go back a page so he can catch up and admittedly, he skims through, only writing down a few notes before he tells her to move on. He can find the book again if he really needs to.

He has to lean over his left arm rather significantly to read the book properly. She notices this, and pushing it closer to him, shuffling her chair over to follow. They’re close enough that he can smell her perfume again.

“None of your little friends around then?” he asks quietly, so as not to disturb the other students.

“What?”

“That group of girls,” he says, “I’ve seen you sitting with them in the dining hall.”

She brings her chin back to her palm but doesn’t look up from her notes. “They live on my floor. I don’t need to spend every waking moment with them.”

“Touchy subject?” he asks, perhaps a little too hopefully.

His heart leaps in triumph when she looks up at him. “No. I’m just not sure I’d count them as friends, necessarily.”

“Why not?” he asks.

“Not my kind of people,” she says.

“Why not?”

She frowns briefly. He thinks she might scold him for being so direct, for asking so many questions, for being too intrusive. But she doesn’t.

The textbook is forgotten. She tells him about the village where she grew up, a sad little place by the sounds of it. She spent most of her schooling surrounded by the same twenty or so kids.

“For a long time, I knew there was something people didn’t like about me,” she says. “I didn’t understand why. I was never rude or cruel, I just kept my head down and did my work. The other girls told me I was a freak, the boys used to tease me, pull my hair, tear pages out of my books. Mum said people hated me because I was clever. Dad said I should stop complaining. So I did.”

He can’t help but draw a comparison to himself. He can feel it when he meets someone new, the inherent distrust, the sense that there is something inherently unlikeable about him. In a way he likes that people are unnerved by him because at least it’s something he can control. He has never been one for friends or common ground, a consequence of being the smartest person in every room.

He watches her intently as she tells him about a private school a few miles outside of her village, a proper posh place, Victorian buildings and sprawling estates. For her, it was her one chance of escape, and while her parents worked hard to make ends meet, the only way she was going to get in was with a scholarship. So she worked for it, got all A*s in her GCSEs, started at the posh school, and from there, set her sights on Oxford.

“You’re rather deceptive,” he says.

She smiles at him. “It’s not like I lied. Were you expecting a daddy’s money brat?”

“There’s enough of them about,” he says.

She huffs a laugh and rolls her eyes. “Fucking tell me about it.”

They start to make a habit of studying together, at first it’s by coincidence, and then she gives him her number so they can organise themselves more effectively. They meet at the library every Friday to share a textbook or go over problem sheets, in preparation for their lectures. They even start to meet before their tutorials together, to compare answers and make sure neither of them are left out. Sometimes they go for coffee after their classes, and branch off to chat about things that aren’t maths.

He tells her about the grammar school he went to, that most of the boys there were rugby playing morons. He tells her about his family, his mum, his dad, the family cat that’s been around longer than he has. He tells her about his summer, running numbers for his uncle’s accountancy firm.

She tells him about the posh school, that starting at a boarding school was like being thrown into a different universe. Sure, she had been the odd one out and got the odd “povo” comment, but it was the first place where she had felt like she didn’t have to be ashamed of her own intelligence. She learnt how to fit in, to the point where he can’t tell if she actually likes her preppy friends or if she just puts up with them for the sake of it.

He starts to wonder if he could consider her a friend. He likes that she’s smart and sharp, the slight air of competition when they compare notes or go through a problem together. He likes challenging her, making her second guess herself, watching the way she squirms and tries to hide that she’s flustered. Just once, he thinks it would be fun to one-up her, but of course, she never slips up, and she never makes a mistake.

On Halloween she mentions a party at Magdalene College being hosted by one of her old school friends. Of course he’s sceptical. Hanging around a bunch of stuck up posh kids, who no doubt will all be in slutty costumes and getting off on each other’s egos, isn’t exactly his idea of fun. Although, part of him is intrigued to see her in a different setting.

So he agrees to meet her outside her dorm at 10pm exactly. He doesn’t bother with fancy dress, opting for jeans and a black jumper so that he can just fade into the background.

She appears with some of her preppy friends. They’re all in pastel dresses of differing colours, matching wings strung on their backs, glitter on their cheeks, a little pack of fairies. She’s in white mini dress that floats around her thighs as she moves, more like an angel.

She introduces him enthusiastically to the girls, already giddy from their pre-drinks, pink gin and rosé. None of them seem that interested by his presence and he grunts in response.

She links her arm through his as they walk over the cobbles, through the maze of ancient buildings to the dorm where the party is being held. She talks about everything and nothing. She tells him who’s going to be there, who’s been uninvited but might show up just to stir shit, how many girls are going to be there and that they’re all going to be trying to get into Felix Catton’s Calvin Kleins.

“Are you going to get with anyone?” she asks.

He makes a sound of disgust.

“Come on, Michael, live a little!”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think– I don’t know–”

She puts her hands on his shoulders and turns him to face her. “Have you kissed anyone before?”

He swallows thickly. It’s not something he’s ever been ashamed of before, now it feels like a weight crushing down on his chest. “No,” he says, simply, determined to remain indifferent.

“Get with someone tonight!” she says excitedly, “just for the fun of it, we’ll find you someone good.”

He hates the idea, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell her. Perhaps it seems like fun to her, but to him it seems like an impossibility, and he thinks he’d rather have the consistency of being unwanted.

The party itself is loud and sparsely lit by neon lights. He starts off on bottles of beer to ease himself into it, but seeing everyone else is doing pills and white lines, he thinks he might need something stronger to get through the night, especially when she keeps getting distracted. The angel is quite the social butterfly and insists on saying hello to everyone, even the people she’s never met.

He finds himself in a common room and reaches for a bottle of whisky and a cup when he spots her. She’s leaning against a wall, wings discarded on the floor beside her. A tall boy, wearing nothing but jeans, a pair of feathery costume wings and a horrible Carpe Diem tattoo on his forearm, has his hands on her waist. She’s smiling and giggling into his neck every time he goes in to kiss her. Of all the girls Felix could go after.

His skin feels tight. He fears if he keeps having to watch this little display he’ll retch his guts up, and yet he’s utterly hypnotised by it, the way she had her arms around his shoulders, the way her fingertips trace the base of his neck. And fuck, he’s never seen her look so beautiful.

He ends up downing the rest of the whisky straight from the bottle and most of the night becomes a blur after that. At some point he thinks he starts trying to talk to one of her pastel fairy friends. He doesn’t catch her name, and he wouldn’t care to remember it anyway. She plays with his glasses, tries them on and giggles hysterically. He thinks she must be completely off her face, considering the look of utter disgust she had given him at the start of the night.

Somewhere in the noise of the party she throws her arms around his neck and they sway clumsily to the overwhelming bass of the music. He thinks he feels her lips graze his cheek, his jaw, his neck, but where he can help it, he keeps his eyes on his angel. Felix has one of her legs around his waist and his hands halfway up her skirt.

Fuck this.

He pushes the nameless girl off him and storms over to put an end to the scene before him. He grips Felix by his shoulders to pull him off her, grabs her by the arm and drags her out of the dorm. He doesn’t look back to see if Felix protests, he’ll probably find some other throat to stick his tongue down.

She tries to shout over the music. “Where are we–”

“I’m tired,” he snaps, bringing his face in close to hers. He gets closer than he means to, pressing his nose and his forehead against hers. He’s breathing fiercely, he realises, desperate to contain the full extent of his anger, his jealousy. “I want to leave.”

She stares back at him with parted lips, and nods.

He feels better the moment they’re outside, away from the disorientation of the party. He takes deep breaths of the night air, cold and sharp in his lungs. He snatches off his glasses, runs his hands over his face and his hair to find himself drenched in sweat.

His angel tucks herself in against him, under his arm, huddling her arms around herself and shivering.

“Do you want my jumper?” he says. His voice and the words on his tongue feel strange. His limbs feel weightless as he pulls it off and helps her into it.

“Hmm, thank you,” she says dreamily, clinging onto his arm as they stumble back to Lincoln College. He burns where she touches him, her fingertips digging into his skin. He loves it, and hates that her hands were on someone else before him.

“You were getting rather cozy with Miranda,” she says.

“Who?”

“Lilac fairy costume,” she says, playfully hitting his arm. “Did you kiss her?”

His heart sinks. He presses his lips together but she doesn’t seem to pick up on his annoyance. “No,” he says with a tight jaw.

“Oh no,” she says, looking up at him with a comically sad pout.

“It’s not important,” he says.

“It’s your first kiss! Or should have been your first kiss. It’s important. Did you at least have a good time before you got tired?”

“No,” he says, “your friends are all imbeciles.”

They walk the rest of the way back to her dorm in silence. He makes sure she has her keys, holds her face between his hands and tells her to drink a whole glass of water before she falls asleep.

She leans into his touch with a sleepy smile. “Yes, yes, I will,” she whines.

The sound stirs a wanting in his stomach. Suddenly his heart is beating faster than it ever has before.

“And call me if you need anything–”

“Would you want to kiss me?” she asks.

His eyes flicker down to her lips. His hands are still cupping her cheeks. “What?”

Her eyes are wide and alert. “I just mean, I could be your first kiss, if you wanted to.” She places her hands on his wrists, tracing her fingertips over his skin, along his forearms. It’s such a simple touch, and yet he can feel it driving him slowly insane.

He imagines her hands running over the rest of his body, down his chest, his stomach, teasing over the growing hardness in his jeans.

“You’re drunk,” he whispers, terrified of how desperate his voice might sound.

She rises onto her toes, inching her face closer to his, drawing her nose over his cheek. “So?” she says, lips brushing over his skin, “I promise it’ll feel good.”

Their lips find each other in a simple movement. It’s easier than he thought it would be, following the movements of her mouth, letting his hands fall from her face and rest on her waist. He can feel her breathing, the little hums she makes as she kisses him and runs her hands through his hair.

He decides, in that moment, that she is perfect. She is bright and beautiful, passionate and kind, soft and sharp, everything he wants for himself, the only person he has ever felt a need for. That need burns through his bloodstream, goes straight to his head and makes his mind hazy. It tightens in his gut and only makes that wanting feeling in his chest feel emptier. His heart races, his trembling hands graze over the thin, silky material of her dress.

His glasses come askew. He feels her smile against his lips and it feels good. Really fucking good.

His hands clench into a firmer grip on her waist. He needs to keep her close, to touch her, feel her, know she wants this as much as he does.

Only she’s slipping away.

Her hands come away from his neck and the cold night air stings his skin in her absence. She pulls her head away, not abruptly, but that’s the pain of it. He leans forward to chase her lips but he has no choice but to let her go in the end.

She looks up at him with a vague smile. “See? It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Nice in the moment. Pure torture that he’ll have to spend the rest of the night clinging onto the memory, only able to imagine how good it felt.

After that night he cannot escape the thought of her, when he’s in his lectures, when he’s in the library, when he’s walking between classes, when he’s in the dining hall. If he’s with her he cannot help but notice every little detail about her, her clothes, her hands, the colour of her nail polish, every micro expression, every word, every laugh, every sigh.

And when he’s alone, he can’t help but picture her in that white dress, the sound of her voice, the feel of her lips. He can’t help but imagine what it would be like to run his hands over every inch of her skin and make her a breathless, whining mess. When he’s in his dorm, it’s inevitable that his hand will end up dipping into his boxers, stroking himself until he spills over his knuckles with a grunt or a whisper of her name.

He’s never known himself to be so distracted.

Worst of all is the rage that comes with the wanting. He hates walking into the lecture hall to see her chatting to someone else, seeing her with her preppy friends around the college or drinking with that old school friend in the King’s Arms. None of them deserve her. None of them. Does she even realise it? How long before she loses herself, before she decides she doesn’t need him?

He knows he’s not a sentimental person. He doesn’t have a lot of friends nor does he want them. People have come in and out of his life, but this girl is different. He feels a draw to her, a hunger that he can’t satiate with his own imagination. She is everything he wants for himself, and he has no intentions of letting her slip away.

As Michaelmas terms comes to an end, the colleges and libraries are covered with garlands and wreaths. Despite the lingering worry in the back of his mind, Michael is rather happy with his collection of outcasts, though poor Oliver Quick seems rather unhappy at being a designated Norman-No Mates.

He finds it easier to get her attention as the term and the workload progresses. They’ve had tutorials and summative assignments, and she’s finally starting to struggle.

And then there was the incident about the scholarship. One of the preppy friends let slip that she wasn’t paying for her tuition fees or her accommodation, likely done out of jealousy after she’d gotten close to Felix at the Halloween party. He was there for her with a perfectly good shoulder to cry on when half the girls in her dorm started teasing her for it.

He tells her that she doesn’t have time to get distracted with parties or friends who won’t help her succeed.

He’s sitting at a table in the library, ready for one of their Friday evening study dates. She’s late but soon hurries in, pulling off the thick red scarf she has wrapped around her neck and shrugging off her denim jacket.

He has the textbook open at the right page and places a Crunchie in front of her when she sits down.

“Did you know there was a college Christmas party tonight?” Michael asks as she takes down her notes. “We’re NFI, apparently. Not fucking invited.” He’d checked his pigeonhole, and Oliver’s for good measure.

In the corner of his eye, he sees her look up from her notebook.

“As if we’d actually want to hang out with those vapid cunts,” he says, laughing to himself. He turns his head to check if she’s laughing too.

She doesn’t look very amused. “Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to come with me,” she says.

He pauses, hovering his pencil over his worksheet. “You got an invitation?” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” she says, “I was chatting with some of the literature guys the other day, you know Farleigh Start–”

“What the fuck were you talking to him for?” He asks in a voice like ice.

She stares at him with wide, almost accusing eyes. “What, am I not allowed to talk to anyone besides you?”

“They’re not worth your time so stop acting like a fucking bootlicker” he hisses. “They’re all self-obsessed and cruel, and I don’t know why you’re so desperate for their approval.”

“Desperate,” she echoes.

The silence of the library is screaming at him. He has an awful feeling in his stomach, like he’s done something wrong, like he’s pushed a little too far.

It’s Halloween all over again. He can feel her slipping away, and he can’t reach out for her, can’t hold onto her and make her stay where he wants her. He curls his fists as he feels his body start to tremble.

“I guess I won’t waste any more of your precious time then,” she says sharply as she starts to pack up her things.

“No,” Michael utters. He reaches his hand up as if to stop her but she stands up, out of his reach. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

She throws on her jacket, wraps her scarf around her neck and turns around, glaring down at him with sad, glassy eyes. “I need to get ready,” she says. “Enjoy the rest of your night.” Then she sweeps out of the hall with a cold rush of air and a slam of the doors.

Michael groans and lets his head fall into his hands. How had he managed to fuck up that badly?

He can’t think about the problems on the sheet in front of him, or think about the reading from the textbook. All he can picture is her in some skimpy dress, letting some sick trust fund baby put his hands all over her. It makes him want to tear his hair out.

He stays there until the evening has turned to night, until any other stragglers have left the library, to attend this stupid Christmas party or to make their own fun.

He can’t understand why she keeps trying to befriend the people who would abandon her the moment they got bored of her, the very same people who shamed her for her scholarship.

He’d never leave her, never let her feel anything less than worshipped.

When he finally packs up his bag he finds himself walking to her dorm. A few girls are leaving as he arrives at the building and he easily slips in while they’re busy chatting. He knows which floor she’s on, and then all he has to do is find her name on one of the doors… and there it is, under the number 205. Perfect.

He glances up and down the hall. It’s deathly quiet. He wonders how many students have already cleared out of their rooms, how many will be at this party, at the pub with their friends.

He can hear music on the other side of the door, a voice singing softly to a song he doesn’t know.

He brings his knuckles up and taps four times against the wood.

She seems happy when she opens the door, but her face falls when she realises it’s him.

He buries his hands in his pockets, keeps his chin down as he looks up at her. “I need to talk to you,” he says.

She sighs and purses her lips, but steps aside enough for him to come into her room.

It’s not as neat as he imagined, but it’s cosy. There are photos and posters all over the walls, clothes strewn everywhere, an opened makeup bag on the floor by the mirror, pieces of paper and used mugs on the desk. His eyes are drawn to her bed, to the colourful comforter tossed carelessly over the duvet and the pile of mismatched pillows. It smells like her perfume, and something else that is distinctly her.

A red dress hangs on the front of her wardrobe, her outfit for the party, he guesses. For now she’s dressed in her favourite pair of baggy jeans and a tank top, her hair slightly damp and her skin dewy.

She sits on the edge of her bed with her legs crossed. She doesn’t prompt him, but he knows what she wants to hear.

He stands in front of her, his knees almost touching the bed. He tries not to look at the cut of her tank top, the way it clings to her torso and teases the swell of her breasts.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “You were right, I was being unfair.”

She looks up at him, furrowing her brows and catching her lip between her teeth, like she always does when she’s thinking. It makes his stomach drop.

“You can be cruel too, you know that?” she says, “and so full of yourself, but you hold it against everyone else you meet.”

“But I’d never lie to you,” he says, “and I’ve never pretended to be someone I’m not.”

She keeps frowning. “Neither have I.”

He hums a laugh. He can’t help but reach for her, taking her chin between his fingers. She doesn’t flinch away, doesn’t question it when he gently strokes his index finger over her cheek. “Silly girl,” he says, “you care too much about what people think of you. You’re smarter than that, but you’re happy to hide it.”

Her breath hitches as tilts her head further back and lets his thumb drag over her lower lip.

“Michael,” she utters, pressing her palms against his chest, but not enough to push him away. Her hands grip at the collar of his jumper and she nudges her nose against his.

He doesn’t know where the sudden recklessness comes from. Perhaps it’s in the way she said his name, the way her eyes are gazing up at him, but every part of him feels hollow.

He leans in closer. “Why bother? Why do you want to dumb yourself down when I could just fuck you stupid?”

She leans in to kiss him and he indulges her, letting his hand settle against her cheek as they clash together in a mess of lips and tongues. It’s more frantic than the night of the Halloween party, wetter, clumsier.

She comes up onto her knees, snaking one of her hands down to the hem of his jumper.

“Have you fucked a girl before, Gavey?” she says between their kisses. He can feel her smiling.

“No,” he says, practically tearing his jumper and his shirt off, “but I’ve thought about it a lot.”

“Anyone in particular?” she says, palming over the bulge in his jeans.

“Who do you fucking think?”

His hands are on the buttons of her jeans, ripping them open, dragging them down her legs before she’s on her knees again. He slips his hand between her legs, against her clothed centre and she ruts against him like a bitch in heat.

With his other hand he grabs at her waist, impatiently pulling her tank top over her head to reveal a lacy black bra underneath. He can’t stop himself, planting firm, desperate kisses over the flesh of her chest as he undoes the clasp.

He tosses her bra aside and takes one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking and circling his tongue over the sensitive bud. He loves how she whines for him, how she runs her fingers through his hair and pulls when it feels good.

And then her phone rings.

She sighs in frustration before she shoves Michael away and crawls over to the table by her bed.

Michael groans at the loss, wanting nothing more than to grab her and pull her back across the bed. “Who is it?” he asks, adjusting his glasses.

“Could be Farleigh, or one of the girls, I said I’d meet them before the party–”

That’s all he needs to hear. In an instant he’s on top of her, pinning her wrist to the mattress so she can’t reach her phone, legs on either side of her body as he presses her down.

She writhes underneath him, unintentionally grinding her rear into his crotch. She tries to turn her head over her shoulder, but it’s hard when she’s caged in underneath him. “Michael! What the fuck are you–”

“When are you going to get it into that pretty little head that you don’t need them?” he says, letting his lips brush against the shell of her ear. He feels her shudder, feels her heartbeat racing against his chest.

“I know I don’t need them,” she says.

“Hmm,” he says, leaning back to undo his jeans enough to free his hard and eager cock. I’m not convinced.”

He takes his time pulling her panties down her legs, kneads at her thighs and her ass, pulls her hips up and parts her legs so he can get a look at her slick, glistening cunt. He’s almost fascinated by it, drawing his thumb through her folds, noticing how she reacts to his touch, the sounds she makes, the way she fists the bedsheets when he gets close to her clit, but just enough to keep her on edge.

“I could be so good to you,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to her shoulder, “so fucking good, so why do you act like you don’t need me?”

“I do,” she breathes, interrupting herself with a light moan when he presses firmly against her clit. “I do need you.”

“There you go, you’re starting to get it,” he coos, circling over her most sensitive spot with the pads of his fingers. He may not have the practice but he has the knowledge, and he needs this to feel good for her.

She responds beautifully, sighing and rocking her hips against him, and she just melts when he presses the tip of his cock against her entrance.

He has to push harder than he expects, pausing when she gives a little yelp of what sounds like pain, but she assures him she’s fine.

He grabs her hip for leverage, hissing through his teeth as he pushes in deeper. She’s so tight, so wet, so warm.

“You can move,” she says, letting her head fall against her arm. “Please, I need it.”

He starts slowly, focuses on the drag of his cock through her, the way she stretches around him, but he can’t hold back for long. Once he finds a rhythm he gets a little more reckless, snapping his hips against her rear, keeping his harsh grasp on her flesh as he fucks her into the mattress.

Her moans are heavenly and obscene. She’s given up struggling but she’s trying to look at him, trying to touch him but she can’t. She calls his name and it sounds so pathetic but so endearing.

He chuckles lowly to himself. “Silly little slut, didn’t know what she was missing, did she?”

“No,” she whines. He can feel her clenching around him and he doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be able to last. “Fuck, Michael, it feels so good…”

He pulls out of her, only to turn her back and slam back in. Suddenly she’s all over him, running her hands down his torso, wrapping her arms around his neck. She has her face buried into the crook of his neck, grazing her lips, tongue and teeth over his skin.

It feels good to have her close, but he’s still not entirely satisfied.

He pulls away to hold her down again, one hand on her throat, the other on her stomach. “Mine.” he huffs as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. “All mine. Fucking say it.”

She places her hands over his, urging him to hold her tighter, press harder. “Yours,” she utters, “all yours.”

“Good fucking girl,” he groans, and feels her respond to his voice, cunt fluttering, back arching, another whine sounding in her throat— maybe she likes that. “My clever little girl.”

He feels her come undone around him, back arching as he lets out a breathless moan, practically squeezing him to his own release.

He pulls out and with a few strokes of his hand, paints her belly and her thighs with his spend.

She’s trembling, smiling, reaching out to touch him again, grabbing at his wrists and pulling herself up. She guides him to lay back in the bed and straddles him, tracing her finger over his lips, his jaw, along his nose to push his glasses up for him. He can hardly see through them, the lenses fogged up and smeared with sweat.

“That was fun, wasn’t it?” she says.

“Yeah,” he breathes, pawing at her hips, watching his cum as it drips down her body. He can feel a sense of pride swelling in his chest, the arousal in his gut starting to tighten again.

He gasps when she drags her wet cunt over his already hardening cock. “You.. want to go again?”

She tilts her head, looking down at him with that familiar excited look in her eyes as her mouth spreads into an eager grin. “You’re adorable,” she says, tracing her fingertips over his chest, down the lines of his abs, to the trail of thin hair on his navel.

She leans down, reaching between them to take his cock in her hand, moving with agonisingly slow strokes. When he tries to protest she silences him with little more than a peck on his lips, before she trails down to his throat. “I stand by what I said, Gavey, and you’re not leaving this bed until we’ve taken that ego of yours down a notch.”

Tags (comment to be added)

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shallyouobeyme · 1 year ago

Text

From the Outside

Part 1 (you're here) | Part 2 (Coming soon)

Platonic!Yandere Batfam x Neglected Batsib!reader (GN)

Summary: You were living your life as a stranger in the house you were supposed to call home, an outsider in a group of people who were supposed to be your family. So you do your best to keep yourself distracted from your situation and go on with your life. But just how long will you be able to keep on with that?

! Minors Do Not Interact !

Requested by @sol565

TW: Not much in this one, neglect (obviously), loss of relatives, car crash (mentioned), cancer (mentioned), swearing, coming up to Yandereness in the next chapters. I'll try to proofread and edit once I finish the whole thing.

Last night you dreamed of your family again. It was a pleasant dream, one that had you wishing to keep on dreaming even after you were woken up by your alarm. All of you were sitting at the dinner table, enjoying Alfred’s excellent cooking. The room was filled with happiness and joy, the kind of atmosphere that has you reminiscing about that day for ages. In your dream you felt so weightless, Damian was sitting opposite you as he listened to you talk about your day, an anecdote of you leading to laughter filling the room. Your mother ruffled your hair from where she was sitting beside you and as you smiled up to her you felt filled with love. Around the table, the Waynes were actively interested in the conversation and Bruce was asking you a question leading to a cheeky comment from your left side. You knew what was said, but you couldn’t understand the voice. Confused you looked to where your father should be sitting but only a distorted shadow figure looked back at you.

It opened whatever would be most akin to a mouth and a blaring sound echoed out of it. Your eyes flew open as you slapped your bedside table to grab your phone. 7 A.M, time to get up. This dream had been haunting you for a few weeks now, the idyllic family dinner turning into an unpleasant reminder of your situation. At first, you had woken up in a cold sweat and slightly fearful from the end, but by now you had grown very accustomed to it. Just another part of your day to get through.

You accepted to pay the mental price for the opportunity to see your mother again, if only during the nights.

Another look at your phone to check the notifications and you got up and got dressed. Given the time you knew that you still had enough time to join your adopted siblings for breakfast, but even Alfred's amazing pancakes and french toast could to move you into the kitchen. Deciding to just nap something from your friends during lunch break at school, you grabbed your bag and jacket before quickly making your way through the manor. Like almost every morning you silently prayed that you wouldn’t come across anyone on your way to the front door. Eighty per cent of the time you were lucky, fifteen per cent you were just ignored and the other five per cent you found yourself stuck in painfully awkward small talk with the people who lived on the same floor as you. People who were supposed to be your closest friends and confidants. People who weren’t that. People who were more akin to strangers.

Today you were in luck as you managed to slip out of the giant house you hated to call home without having to talk to anyone. Getting onto your scooter, you made your way to the school, enjoying the air in your face through the helmet and the feeling of freedom that only came to you on rare occasions.

The school was still fairly empty when you arrived - as was expected - so you had the honour of walking through the empty halls like you owned the place. A sentiment that some of your schoolmates even believed. You wanted to tell them that you had no need for your Guardians money, no interest in his family’s name or his family’s reputation. Bitter thoughts filled your mind, leaving a taste of anger, of disappointment, of anguish on your tongue. They weren’t helped by what you saw when you stopped in front of the trophy showcase. There were pictures of some of the best former student-athletes that had attended the school, and the most recognizable was a picture that was proudly displayed right on eyesight. It was at a sporting event that had happened some twenty to thirty years earlier, one that was still held bi-annually. The winners of different disciplines were smiling proudly into the camera, arms around each other.

Taking the spotlight was a man that every proud Gothamite would recognize as a young Bruce Wayne on one side, a different boy who people tended to overlook based on his less noticeable features and the lack of fame he had, and in the middle of both of them stood Bruce’s former best friend. Your mother. Your late mother.

She had been a beautiful, stunning, talented woman. Everyone who had ever known her told you that. You tried to take some solace in the fact that they told you how alike the two of you were, both in looks and in personality. It did nothing to quell the underlying pain though, the pain still boiling inside you, pain that over the years had turned into anger. You weren’t angry with your mother, of course, you knew that she had not chosen to fall sick, that she had not chosen to succumb to cancer. She had loved you with all her heart and only ever wanted you to be happy. This is why, when your grandparents died in a shooting shortly after her diagnosis, she put it in her will that after her passing you were to be taken care of by her lifelong friend Bruce Wayne. After all, he already had kids and he was rich, just like she and her parents had been - money and estates that now waited on you to turn 18 to take charge of - and he’d be surely able to give you the life and the love she always wanted you to have.

Sadly, your mother had not known Bruce quite as well as she had believed she did. She had no idea that he spent his nights as the infamous Batman, or that the kids he adopted had been turned into fighting machines - sometimes even killers. She had no idea that he was not the amazing, loving and attentive father figure she had wanted you to have. Not even close.

You suppose he had tried at one point. When you were a young child, grieving the loss of your entire family and everything that you had known, he had taken you in like one of his own and assured you that from then on he’d protect you. Back then you had believed him. After all, your mother had told you so many great things about him, why should she lie. And with elder brothers and sisters, a Butler who made sure you had your favourite foods whenever you felt sad and a man who tried his best to be the father you never had. They did lots of work to spend time with you and to pay attention to you which would ensure you wouldn’t notice their weird habits and absences. But of course that couldn’t work forever. After a few months, you found out about their best (and somehow at the same time worst) kept secret and as you walked through the Batcave by Bruce’s side everything changed. He didn’t directly offer to train you, but he did insinuate that it was an option, though you declined. You couldn’t see yourself hurting others. You wanted to help like your mom had helped, by volunteering, bettering the world peacefully. Bruce had assured you that that was a completely acceptable decision and that it wouldn’t change anything. But he had lied. Perhaps knowingly, perhaps not. Maybe some of both.

Once you were aware of their second life, they didn’t put in the effort to pay enough attention to you to make you unaware of their secret. At first, they still spent time with you, but over time it seemed like you were blending into obscurity like a special bottle of champagne that was planned to be open on a special occasion only. Just that the bottle was usually remembered after the occasion had passed in annoyance. You weren’t. And as you phased out of their minds and into oblivion, you made peace with your place in the family. An outsider, a stranger inside their house, just waiting until the time had come for you to finally live your own life.

Of course, you knew you could have it worse. You had enough money to fulfil every wish you had as long as it was material, always had something to wear, something to eat, and somewhere to sleep. The only thing you didn’t have was love. But especially in Gotham you knew that you got away rather luckily with that, so while you were deeply angry towards the people who had promised to treat you like family, to love you, you also tried to just get on with your life.

It would have been easier if it wasn’t just so hard to look at your so-called siblings as if you didn’t resent them for the way they treated you, compared to one another. Somehow showing any interest in you or attempting to spend any time with you was a chore, but somehow Jason and Cass could have a little book club, Jason and Dick could go out for lunch at a cat-cafe, Steph, Cass and Tim could have Spa-days and all of them could have an occasional movie night together. It wasn’t explicitly stated that you weren’t welcome, but you had seen how they acted when you were with them compared to how they acted when you were hiding behind the door listening in. They seemed so much happier without you. As if your mere presence ruined the mood. So you started rejecting their invitations to join and it only took one of two attempts of them to stop asking completely.

You might have been able to cope better with the obvious dismissal of your existence if it had been because you hadn’t been part of the family when they had forged their close bond, but somehow, even when Damian joined, acting like a complete asshole to everyone around him, they managed to include him and when he warmed up to them he joined their close group.

So your newness surely could not have been that big of an issue right? Even Damian, completely new to the family and surely aggressive towards all of his pseudo siblings, seemed to know you were less than the others since he didn’t even bother to insult you, instead opting to ignore you. Completely. A glance spared, looking you up and down, and he had decided you were not worth it and his opinion seemingly still hadn’t changed. Sure by now you had talked with him a few times, but you could say the same about the fucking mayor of Gotham so you were sure that did not really count.

Sometimes, you lay in your bed at night, wide awake, wondering just why you were worth so much less in their eyes. What you had done wrong. Two answers usually presented themselves before you. Either it was because you weren’t a vigilante, something that you might even have been willing to accept, or it was… you. Just you. And for some reason, that was the answer that seemed more plausible to you. Maybe you were just unpleasant to be around, not fitting enough for their family. Not interesting enough, not Wayne enough.

And so you were cursed to live your life like a ghost in what is supposed to be your home. Going in and out every day, just waiting for the day to come when you could move into the penthouse your grandparents had bought you before they died, which would become your legal property in just a few years. You’d start anew. Maybe one day, after a long time and probably a lot of therapy, you’ll be able to start your own family. One that you’d promise not to fuck up like Bruce had. Until then though, you’d go on like always, spend as little time in that Manor as possible and try to distract yourself from your reality.

You really did spend very little time at the manor. For one, no one in that house cared when you left or when you came back except maybe Alfred, but even he either knew that you could properly use the freedom or he was too busy to care. Probably a mix of both. And along with that, you had started a very active life outside of your family. You had a lot of friends, though you were not ready to call any of them close friends, always knowing about how many of them were after the publicity of your actual and current family name and the money and fame connected to it. But they were nice enough and they distracted you so you didn’t mind. Especially because you used said popularity to help the people in town. You managed to get a lot of your friends to volunteer alongside you in different homeless shelters, though a lot of them tended to post dozens of pictures which made you feel a bit icky about them trying to profit from helping others, but you knew you couldn’t complain because it did help the shelters. The shelters told you so themselves.

Most of your ‘pocket money’ was donated and the rest of the time was spent doing different activities, be it arts, sports, parties or just wasting the day away. You did your best to cram as much into your day-to-day life as you could to keep you from thinking too much. To stop you from thinking too much about how messed up you were now, how you couldn’t even confide in any of your friends, how you didn’t even really manage to call them your friends, because you couldn’t allow yourself to let anyone close to you anymore, because you knew you weren’t worth it, because you knew you’d be disappointed and hurt again.

These dark thoughts were kept inside, slowly eating at you like termites, while on the outside you kept on being the happy-go-lucky Gotham personality that people loved to follow. Though you didn’t post a lot on your own social media, your friends and people around you did, which the public loved for some reason. And so you kept up the act, because what else could you do? Let people know you’re hurting? So they could ridicule you for your rich people's problems? Or keep out of the public eye? And have to face the lonely darkness that was your life? No, you’d rather keep on pretending like you had been for years now. Even if it meant being a piece of entertainment for other people who could turn on you at any second.

The day at school was mostly uneventful, only a short moment of passing by Damian ruined your mood as your classmates did their usual shtick of asking if that wasn’t your brother and you trying to shrug them off, after all, how do you explain that your brother treated you like air not worth breathing? So you changed the topic by announcing that you’d go help out at a local shelter after school and asked if anyone wanted to join. Some excused themselves but a few agreed, which led to a group of five of you coming into the shelter a few hours later after some mandatory selfies so keep your friends placated. There was a bit more traffic inside than usual - a few people definitely not in need of help - which was probably because one of your friends posted your plans on their socials. That was something that you had to begrudgingly accept. You couldn’t afford their anger, so you made a compromise with them that they could post stuff like that, but that they couldn’t post the exact location (which in your opinion was just common sense, but it seemed not a lot of people shared that).

Ignoring the people only there to see you or be near a Wayne, you focused on helping those who needed your help, though aware of the effect you could have on the shelter business, you helped out in the kitchen where people couldn’t see you. You didn’t mind, you liked cooking and you and the fellow kitchen staff had a sort of harmonized rhythm. It even helped you get lost in thoughts that didn’t make you wanna cry, so when you got interrupted in your flow, you almost jumped in shock. One of the organizers had tapped on your shoulder.

“Y/N, there’s a man outside that wants to talk to you,” Marcus told you and nodded towards the door to the front.

“They still haven’t left? I’m really sorry Marc, if you think it’s better if I leave, then I will,” you sighed, annoyed by the turn of events.

“No, it’s not a fan. At least I think, he’s- well, he claims to have something really important to talk to you about. He gave me this to show to you, said it’ll show you he’s serious,” Marcus shrugged and held a picture out to you. It was an old Polaroid of a young couple smiling into the camera. Your breath hitched.

“Is he the guy in the picture?” you asked with a newly found seriousness.

“Yes, at least he looks like it. Is the woman-”

“Yeah, could we use the office? Only if you’re okay with it, of course.”

“Sure, no problem, go ahead, I’ll bring him to you in a minute.”

“Thank you,” you earnestly smiled at Marcus as you made your way to the door that led to the office. You were used to being nervous, but not quite as nervous as you were then. This could change a lot of things, everything if it was what you imagined it to be. You looked at the picture in your hand again before sitting down behind the desk and putting it down on the desk. There were steps behind the door coming closer, so you took a deep breath as you wiped your hands on your pant legs. The door opened and in came a man who looked just like the guy from the Polaroid. He seemed familiar, not just from that snapshot of the past, but something in his face rang a bell in your memories. You mustered him, trying to keep a stern exterior as you didn’t know if this was going to be what you thought it would be.

Marcus gestured the man to sit down on the other side of the desk, before giving you an encouraging nod and closing the door as he left.

“Hello,” you greeted the man, hands intertwined before you on the desk.

“Hello,” he responded alike and you could feel his curiosity burning through you. Had you misinterpreted this? Was this just another weird fan?

“This picture,” you looked at it again before sliding it towards him, “how do you know my mom?”

A/N: So, what do y'all think? Let me know in the comments or in my inbox ❤️ Also, I'd appreciate feedback on the title as well, not sure if I should change it or keep it.

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atlasthegreatest · 2 months ago

Text

Where it Begins / Yu Jimin x Male Reader

In which, Karina goes on a blind date with Y/n—a long time friend of Giselle. Or, where Y/n and Karina bond over their shared desire for normalcy among their busy lives.

Word count: 4165

A/n: I wanted to try something… I hope you guys like it.

Yu Jimin, better known as Karina from Aespa, sat in a cozy corner of a trendy café in Gangnam, stirring her iced Americano absentmindedly. She wasn’t sure how she had let herself be roped into this situation—blind dates weren’t exactly her thing. But Giselle, her groupmate and close friend, had been persistent.

“Trust me, Jimin. He’s nice, funny, and not the type to be starstruck. He’s a normal guy with a good head on his shoulders,” Giselle had said with a grin. “You need someone who gets you, and I think he could.”

Now, as the soft murmur of café chatter surrounded her, Karina couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. Being an idol came with its own set of complications, and dating was one of the hardest. There were always eyes on her, even now when she wore a simple baseball cap and oversized hoodie, hoping to blend in.

She checked her phone again. He was supposed to be here any minute.

“Hi, Jimin?”

Karina looked up, surprised by the familiar, deep voice. She blinked, taking in the man standing in front of her. He wasn’t exactly what she had expected—but then again, she hadn’t known what to expect. He had a sharp, clean-cut look, with a slight air of confidence about him. His smile, however, was warm and genuine.

“Yes, hi! You must be Y/n?” she asked, standing up to greet him.

“Yeah, Y/n. It’s nice to finally meet you,” he said, taking a seat across from her. “Aeri told me a lot about you, but I didn’t know what to expect.”

“Same,” Karina laughed softly. “She said you were her friend from school, right?”

“Yeah, we met in one of our history classes. I work as a financial consultant now,” Y/n explained. “It’s pretty straightforward, but I like it. What about you? I mean, I know what you do, of course, but how’s life treating you?”

Karina smiled, appreciating that he wasn’t making her idol status the focus of the conversation. “It’s good. Busy, as usual. We’re preparing for a comeback soon, so things have been non-stop. But I enjoy it, you know? It’s what I’ve always wanted to do.”

“I can imagine. It must be intense. I have no idea how you handle all that pressure,” Y/n said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Do you get much time for yourself?”

“Not really,” she admitted. “But I try to make the most of the little breaks I get. I love what I do, so I can’t really complain. And besides, today’s a nice change of pace.”

“Yeah? It’s been a while since I’ve done something like this too,” Y/n admitted. “Honestly, I was kind of surprised when Aeri suggested this, but I figured, why not?”

They both laughed at how Giselle’s insistence had pushed them into this moment, and it eased the lingering awkwardness between them. As the conversation continued, Karina found herself relaxing more. Y/n had an easygoing nature, and despite his polished appearance, he wasn’t intimidating at all. He talked about his work, shared funny anecdotes from university, and even admitted to being a bit of a homebody when he wasn’t working.

Karina, in turn, talked about her passions outside of music, like how she loved writing and finding new hobbies but struggled with having enough time for them. They bonded over their shared introverted tendencies and the desire to find balance in their busy lives.

At one point, Y/n leaned back, watching her with a thoughtful expression. “You’re different from what I expected.”

Karina raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”

“I don’t know. I guess I expected you to be more… guarded? But you’re easy to talk to,” he said, a bit shyly. “It’s refreshing.”

She smiled, feeling a slight warmth spread through her at the compliment. “I guess I’m just comfortable around you. It doesn’t feel like you’re judging me.”

“I’m not. Honestly, I’m impressed. Not many people could handle what you do.”

Karina looked down at her drink, a bit flustered. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

The conversation flowed naturally after that, and before they knew it, two hours had passed. Karina felt surprised at how comfortable she was around Y/n, and how much she was enjoying herself. The awkwardness had faded, replaced by a genuine connection.

“So,” Y/n said, glancing at his watch, “I know this was just supposed to be coffee, but would you want to grab dinner sometime? No pressure, of course.”

Karina hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “I’d like that. Let’s see how our schedules line up, but I’m interested.”

Y/n grinned, looking relieved. “Great. I’ll text Aeri and let her know the blind date didn’t completely flop.”

They both laughed, and Karina felt a strange sense of excitement. Maybe blind dates weren’t so bad after all.

As they left the café, exchanging one last smile before parting ways, Karina couldn’t help but wonder what this unexpected connection might lead to.

————————-

A few days had passed since the blind date, and Karina found herself thinking about it more than she expected. In the whirlwind of rehearsals, interviews, and photoshoots for Aespa’s upcoming comeback, her mind kept drifting back to that afternoon with Y/n. It wasn’t just the fact that the date had gone well—there was something about him that stuck with her.

Maybe it was the way he seemed completely unfazed by her fame, treating her like any other person. It felt rare, especially in a world where everyone seemed to have expectations about who she should be.

“Jimin, you’re spacing out again.” Giselle’s voice broke through her thoughts.

Karina blinked, snapping back to reality as she and her groupmates sat in their dorm’s living room. They were taking a much-needed break after a long day of practice.

“Sorry,” Karina mumbled, earning a knowing smirk from Aeri.

“You’ve been like this ever since the date,” Giselle teased. “Y/n must’ve really left an impression, huh?”

Karina rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “He was nice. It wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be.”

“Nice? That’s it?” Winter piped in from her spot on the couch, clearly interested in the gossip. “Come on, unnie, you can do better than that. Give us details.”

“Well, he’s a financial consultant. Smart, funny, and…” Karina paused, feeling a little shy under her members’ curious gazes. “He made me feel comfortable. I didn’t expect that.”

“You like him,” Ningning sing-songed, earning a playful glare from Karina.

“I didn’t say that,” she protested, though the warmth in her cheeks gave her away.

“It’s written all over your face, unnie,” Ningning added, giggling. “But that’s okay. It’s good to see you thinking about something other than work for once.”

Karina shook her head, trying to hide her embarrassment. “It’s just one date. I don’t know where it’s going, if anywhere.”

“You should give it a chance,” Giselle said, her tone a bit more serious now. “Y/n’s a good guy, and you deserve to have something normal. If it works out, great. If not, no big deal.”

Karina appreciated Giselle’s words, but the thought of dating still made her feel cautious. Her career was at its peak, and dating wasn’t just personal—it was public. Every move she made would be scrutinized, and the idea of dealing with the media’s obsession with her love life felt overwhelming.

But then again, Y/n didn’t seem like the type who would complicate things. He was grounded, and that was rare in her world.

“Okay, I’ll give it a shot,” Karina finally said, her voice soft but resolute. “We’ll see where it goes.”

A week later, Karina found herself waiting outside a quiet restaurant in Itaewon. Y/n had suggested a place known for its privacy, one that celebrities often frequented to avoid being spotted. He’d even joked about how he wasn’t famous, but he figured she might appreciate the discretion.

Y/n arrived right on time, flashing her that same easy smile that made her feel at ease. He was dressed casually in a dark sweater and jeans, his appearance polished but not overly so. It was the kind of look that suited him—effortless but put-together.

“Hey, hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” Y/n said as he approached.

“No, I just got here too,” Karina replied, smiling back. “This place looks nice.”

“I figured you’d appreciate somewhere quiet. You probably don’t get much peace when you go out, huh?”

Karina chuckled softly. “Not really, no. This is perfect, though.”

They were led to a private booth tucked away in the back, and Karina felt the tension ease from her shoulders as they settled in. The dim lighting and soft music created a relaxed atmosphere, making it easy to forget the pressures outside.

“So, how’s comeback prep going?” Y/n asked once they had ordered.

“Intense, but that’s normal,” Karina said with a small sigh. “There’s always pressure to outdo ourselves with every release. It’s exhausting, but I love it. I just wish there were more hours in the day.”

“I can’t even imagine. I get stressed just from balancing a couple of client meetings in a day. You’re juggling a whole career.”

“Yeah, but you deal with people’s money,” she pointed out with a grin. “That sounds stressful in its own way.”

“Fair point,” Y/n laughed. “But I’m guessing you don’t get much downtime to just… be yourself, huh?”

Karina’s expression softened at the question. “Not really. I mean, I do have my moments. The members and I are really close, so I can relax around them. But outside of that… yeah, it’s hard to switch off.”

Y/n nodded thoughtfully. “I guess it’s hard for people to see past the idol image sometimes.”

Karina glanced at him, surprised by how easily he seemed to understand. “Yeah. It’s not that I mind being an idol—it’s who I am. But sometimes I feel like people forget there’s a person behind it.”

“Well, I don’t want to sound presumptuous,” Y/n said, his tone careful, “but I don’t see you as Karina right now. Just Jimin.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. It wasn’t something she heard often—at least not from someone who wasn’t already in her close circle. She found herself smiling, genuinely touched.

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

They continued to talk, the conversation flowing just as easily as it had during their first meeting. Y/n shared stories about his clients and the quirks of working in finance, while Karina opened up about the more human side of being in the spotlight—how she missed simple things like going to the movies or walking around Seoul without being recognized.

The night flew by, and before they knew it, the restaurant was closing. As they stepped out into the cool evening air, Y/n walked her to her manager's car.

“So… dinner wasn’t a disaster,” he joked, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’d call that a win.”

Karina laughed, feeling lighter than she had in a long time. “I’d say so. I had a great time.”

“Same here.” Y/n hesitated for a moment before continuing, “Would it be okay if we did this again? I know your schedule’s probably crazy, but…”

“I’d like that,” Karina said, cutting him off with a smile. “We’ll figure something out.”

Y/n smiled back, relieved. “Great. I’ll let you know when I’m free, and you can do the same.”

As they said their goodbyes, Karina felt a warmth settle in her chest. It wasn’t a grand, sweeping romance—not yet, anyway. But there was something genuine about Y/n that made her want to keep exploring whatever this was.

For the first time in a long while, she felt like she could be herself, and that was worth holding on to.

Bonus chapter:

It was early afternoon, and Aespa had just wrapped up a grueling rehearsal for their upcoming music video shoot. The studio was buzzing with the usual energy: staff members adjusting lighting, choreographers reviewing the footage, and the members catching their breath on the sidelines. Karina stretched her arms above her head, feeling the slight ache in her muscles.

“Okay, let’s take a fifteen-minute break, everyone!” the choreographer called out.

Karina grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat off her forehead and slumped onto the floor next to Winter, who was scrolling through her phone.

“You’ve been glowing lately,” Winter teased, her eyes still on the screen. “It’s either that new skincare routine or that boy you went on a date with.”

Karina gave her a playful nudge. “It’s definitely the skincare.”

“Sure, sure,” Winter said with a smirk. “So, when are you seeing him again? Or are you already planning the wedding?”

Karina let out a dramatic sigh. “One date and everyone’s marrying me off.”

“Hey, I’m just asking,” Winter laughed, tossing her phone aside. “He seems like a good guy. I’m happy for you, unnie.”

Karina appreciated Winter’s sincerity, though she wasn’t quite sure how to describe what was happening with Y/n. It had only been a couple of weeks since their blind date, but they had texted regularly, and their casual dinner had felt… natural. Real. Like something outside the world of cameras and expectations. She wasn’t used to that.

“I’m seeing him later this week,” Karina admitted quietly. “But it’s nothing serious yet.”

Winter gave her a thoughtful look. “You don’t need to rush. Just see where it goes, right?”

Karina nodded, thankful for Winter’s easygoing advice. The conversation was cut short when Giselle bounded over, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“What are we talking about? Jimin’s love life again?”

“Obviously,” Winter replied, smirking.

Giselle dropped down onto the floor beside them. “Well, I approve of Y/n. And I’m rarely wrong about people.”

Karina smiled. “I think I approve too. So far, at least.”

Later that evening, Karina sat in her dorm room, her legs tucked under her as she looked out the window at the city skyline. She was still winding down from practice, sipping on some herbal tea when her phone buzzed beside her. A message from Y/n.

Y/n: “Hey, Jimin! How was your day? Still alive after all those rehearsals?”

Karina chuckled softly and typed back.

Karina: “Barely! But yeah, we survived. How about you? Long day at work?”

Y/n: “You could say that. Had a couple of back-to-back meetings, and now I’m trying to remember what sleep feels like.”

Karina: “Sounds like you need more than a cup of coffee.”

Y/n: “What I need is another dinner with you. If you’re free this weekend?”

Karina’s heart did a little flip, the simplicity of the question making her smile. She typed back without overthinking it.

Karina: “I think I can make that happen :)”

There was a pause before Y/n responded.

Y/n: “Perfect. I’ll find somewhere quiet again. I’m not trying to end up on the front page of Dispatch.”

Karina laughed, appreciating his understanding of her situation. It was refreshing that he took her lifestyle in stride without making it awkward.

Karina: “Yeah, let’s avoid that for as long as possible.”

Y/n: “Deal. Looking forward to it, Jimin.”

———————-

The weekend came quickly, and Karina found herself back in the familiar rhythm of preparing for a date. She kept it simple—minimal makeup, a casual but chic outfit that could go unnoticed. For once, she felt a bit of excitement bubbling in her stomach that wasn’t tied to performing or being in the public eye. It was personal, and that felt nice.

They met at a small, tucked-away restaurant in Seongsu-dong that Y/n had picked out, a quiet place with an intimate atmosphere. As soon as Karina walked in, Y/n stood up to greet her with a warm smile.

“Hey, you look great,” Y/n said, his voice kind.

“Thanks. You too,” Karina replied, smiling as she took a seat.

Once again, the conversation flowed effortlessly. They talked about their week, shared stories about their families, and even laughed over the little annoyances of their respective jobs. Y/n had a way of making her laugh that felt unforced, natural. Karina could feel herself lowering her guard, bit by bit.

Throughout the evening, they fell into a comfortable rhythm, enjoying each other’s company in a way that didn’t feel rushed or forced. It was easy, and Karina realized how much she appreciated that—how much she needed it.

After they finished dinner, they stepped outside into the cool autumn air. The streets were quieter now, a soft breeze rustling through the trees. Karina wrapped her coat a little tighter around her, and Y/n glanced at her.

“Want to walk for a bit?” he asked. “I know a nice spot by the river not too far from here.”

Karina hesitated for only a second before nodding. “Sure, I’d like that.”

They walked side by side, the gentle sound of their footsteps mixing with the occasional distant hum of traffic. The Han River stretched out beside them, shimmering under the city lights.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” Y/n asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Karina looked over at him, curious. “Of what?”

“Being Karina. The public persona. The constant pressure.”

She thought about it for a moment, the weight of the question settling over her. “Sometimes,” she admitted softly. “It’s not that I don’t love what I do—I do. But there are moments when it’s hard. When I just want to disappear for a while and be Jimin. No expectations. No spotlight.”

Y/n nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes. “I get that. It must be hard to find that balance.”

“It is,” Karina said, her voice quieter now. “But tonight, I feel more like Jimin than Karina.”

Y/n smiled at that, his gaze warm as he looked at her. “I’m glad.”

They continued walking in silence for a while, the comfortable kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. As they reached a small bench overlooking the river, Y/n stopped and turned to her.

“You know, I wasn’t sure what to expect when Aeri set this up,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. “But I’m really glad we did this.”

Karina felt the same warmth from before, that quiet sense of something real blossoming between them. “Me too.”

As they stood there, looking out over the peaceful river, Karina realized that, for the first time in a long while, she wasn’t thinking about work, schedules, or the next big event. She was just Jimin, standing beside someone who saw her for who she was—and that felt like something worth holding on to.

As Karina and Y/n sat on the bench, watching the river’s gentle current, the silence between them felt more like an unspoken understanding. She rarely had moments like these—where the world slowed down, and she wasn’t the idol, the performer, or the public figure. She was just herself, and Y/n had a way of reminding her that being Jimin was enough.

“Tell me something you missed from before you became… well, you,” Y/n asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable quiet.

Karina thought about it for a moment, her mind drifting back to memories of simpler times. “I think it’s the small things,” she said softly. “Like going to the grocery store without feeling watched. Or taking the subway and people not recognizing me. I used to love just walking through the streets and feeling invisible, blending into the crowd. I miss that.”

Y/n nodded, his expression thoughtful. “That must be hard—to give up those everyday moments. People probably think being famous is all glamour, but they don’t see what you lose.”

“It’s a trade-off,” Karina said, shrugging lightly. “I wouldn’t change my life for anything, but yeah, there are moments where I just want to be… ordinary again. But enough about me. What about you? What do you miss from when life was simpler?”

Y/n chuckled. “You’re assuming my life’s complicated now.”

“Well, it can’t be all easy, right? Financial consultant—sounds intense.”

Y/n grinned. “I guess so. I think I miss having time for hobbies. Back in university, I used to play the guitar. Not anything fancy, just for fun. But now, between work and adulting, I barely have time to pick it up. Sometimes I feel like life’s become all about work and not enough about living.”

“Sounds familiar,” Karina replied, a soft laugh escaping her. “Maybe we need to find more time to live.”

Y/n looked at her, his smile fading slightly as his expression turned more serious. “Maybe we do.”

They shared a lingering look, the air between them charged with something unsaid but palpable. It wasn’t an overwhelming intensity, but more of a quiet, growing connection. Something steady and real, like the slow build of a song that hasn’t reached its crescendo yet.

“Are you ever afraid of people finding out?” Y/n asked after a while, his tone gentle.

Karina knew what he meant. The thought of the media discovering this budding relationship was always in the back of her mind, a constant pressure she couldn’t escape. “I am,” she admitted. “It’s complicated. If people find out, it could affect both of us—my career, and your privacy. It’s not just about us, you know?”

Y/n nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes. “Yeah, I get that. But for what it’s worth, I’m willing to take things as they come. I’m not going to run away because it might get messy.”

Karina felt her chest tighten at his words. It was rare to find someone willing to navigate the chaos of her life without hesitating, without being scared off by the potential consequences. She appreciated that more than she could say.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice quiet but sincere. “I needed to hear that.”

Y/n smiled, and the weight of the conversation seemed to lift slightly as they stood from the bench and began walking back toward the main street. The cool breeze brushed past them, carrying with it the scent of autumn, crisp and fresh. Karina could feel the energy of the city, the hum of life continuing around them, but in this little moment, it felt like they had carved out a space just for themselves.

As they reached the point where they would part ways, Y/n paused, turning to face her. His expression was soft, thoughtful, as if he was weighing his next words carefully.

“Can I be honest with you for a second?”

Karina raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Of course.”

“I didn’t know what to expect when we first met. Aeri had always talked about you like you were this larger-than-life person, this untouchable figure. And I was nervous—thinking about how different our worlds are. But now…” He paused, running a hand through his hair before meeting her gaze again. “Now, I just see you as Jimin. And I like that. I like you.”

His confession hung in the air between them, and Karina felt her heart skip a beat. It wasn’t that she hadn’t heard people express interest in her before—she was used to the admiration that came with being an idol. But Y/n wasn’t talking about Karina, the persona. He was talking about the person behind it, and that meant more than he could know.

She didn’t trust herself to speak for a moment, unsure of how to respond to such an honest, vulnerable admission. But eventually, she smiled, the warmth of his words settling in her chest.

“I like you too,” she said softly, feeling the truth of it as she spoke.

Y/n’s grin returned, soft but genuine. “That’s good to know.”

They stood there for a moment longer, neither of them in a rush to leave. The world felt suspended in time, the busy city around them fading into the background.

“I should get going,” Y/n said finally, though there was a hint of reluctance in his voice.

“Yeah, me too,” Karina agreed, though she felt the same.

As Y/n took a step back, he gave her one last look, his smile still lingering. “I’ll text you.”

“I’ll be waiting,” she replied, her own smile growing as she watched him walk away.

Once he disappeared into the night, Karina let out a small breath, feeling a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. This was new territory—uncharted, and in many ways, risky. But for the first time in a long time, she felt something genuine, something real, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to let it go.

———————

As she turned to head back to her dorm, Karina’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, expecting a message from one of her members or her manager, but instead saw Y/n’s name lighting up her screen.

Y/n: “By the way, what’s your favorite song right now?”

Karina chuckled and typed back quickly.

Karina: “That’s a hard one. Why?”

Y/n: “I’m thinking of picking up my guitar again. Maybe I can learn it for you.”

Her heart fluttered at the thought, and for the first time in a while, Karina let herself feel hopeful.

#aespa #yu jimin #male reader #karina #karina x male reader #aespa x reader #aespa winter #aespa giselle #aespa ningning #fluff

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2amriize · 2 months ago

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⟡˖ RIIZE drunk confessions

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist genre crack, fluff pairing riize x reader

ᯓ★ SHOTARO

Shotaro didn't usually get drunk, but when he did, it was hardly noticeable, as his personality remained as happy and energetic as ever. Still, he had confessed to you that most of the time, he tended to forget what had happened while he was drunk, which is why he didn't like getting too drunk. He preferred to enjoy a party while completely sober.

That night, you and Shotaro had made dinner plans for your birthday, as he knew you had wanted to try a sushi restaurant for a long time, and he had decided to invite you as part of your birthday gift. When you ordered drinks, Shotaro decided to try a mango drink with a funny name, not realizing it contained alcohol. It wasn’t until you had finished the first round of sushi that Shotaro began to realize the drink wasn't just mango, which made you laugh quite a bit. You spent some time laughing at the way Shotaro was complaining about the drink, saying that it didn't mention anywhere that it had alcohol and that he felt deceived.

"Don't worry, Shotaro, you usually don't get dizzy anyway."

"But I want to remember tonight..." he murmured as the waiter placed another tray of sushi on the table.

You continued chatting while eating, sharing funny anecdotes and reminiscing about old times you'd spent together. At some point, the conversation shifted to the crushes you both had back in high school, recalling how Shotaro had liked a girl for quite some time.

"Aren't you curious about how she's doing now? Maybe you two might like each other."

"Not really, I'm not interested in her anymore. There's someone else on my mind."

"What? And you haven't told me?" you said, crossing your arms as you looked at him.

"No, it's just that..." Shotaro looked at you before letting out a small sigh, placing one of his hands on his head. "It's someone you know."

"Huh?" You paused for a few seconds, but since all the friends you shared were already in relationships, you looked at him, confused. "I can't think of anyone..."

"I don't want to say it out loud because I know I won't remember it tomorrow, but..." Shotaro looked back at you with a small smile. You exchanged glances for a few seconds, realizing that the person he was referring to was you. You couldn't help but blush and look away after a few seconds, nervously trying to change the subject.

ᯓ★ EUNSEOK

Seeing Eunseok drunk at your door was the last thing you expected that night. You had talked to him a few hours earlier, and he had told you he was going out to dinner with some friends, so you never expected to receive a message saying he was at your door at 1 AM, just when you were about to go to sleep. You opened the door in your pajamas and found Eunseok, who was a bit dressed up. You noticed his eyes looked a bit more tired than usual, and his cheeks were pink. It was when he walked past you that you realized he smelled like alcohol.

"Are you drunk, Eunseok?" you asked while closing the door, watching him as he sat down on your couch.

"Maybe. A little... quite a bit," he said, running his hand through his hair, messing it up as he laughed.

"What are you doing here at this hour? You should go home, you look tired."

You murmured as you returned from the kitchen with a glass of water for Eunseok. You sat beside him on the couch, shaking your head as you sighed.

"I know... but I started walking, and I ended up at your door. Don’t you think it’s fate?"

"What fate, Eunseok...? How much have you had to drink?"

"Not much..." he whispered, taking a sip of water before getting more comfortable on the couch and looking at you. "Y/n, actually..."

"Yes?"

"No, nevermind."

"Eunseok, you can't start a sentence and not finish it. You know how much I hate that..."

"Actually... I came here because I missed you, I really wanted to see you, y/n," he murmured, looking directly into your eyes. "Lately, you’re the only person I think about, I can’t get you out of my head..."

ᯓ★ SUNGCHAN

Sungchan loved going to parties. You weren't really a fan of them, as you got tired quickly and felt stressed when there were too many people, but sometimes you agreed to go to parties with Sungchan because you always had a great time, even if only for a while. That night, your group of friends had plans to go out partying, so Sungchan picked you up from your house to go to the club. As soon as you arrived, he immediately went to get drinks for you and himself. You spent about an hour dancing with everyone, laughing, and being silly. You weren't sure how he did it, but Sungchan got drunk way too fast. Even so, he was always looking out for you, keeping an eye on you in case you needed anything. Sungchan was the kind of person who became a bit sillier when he got drunk. He said nonsensical things, couldn't stop laughing, and made everyone around him laugh too. He just wanted everyone to be having a good time all the time.

After a few hours in the club, you started feeling like your social battery was running out. At first, you tried to hide it and hang on for a bit longer, knowing that if you said you wanted to leave, it would ruin everyone’s mood. Even so, Sungchan noticed that your mood had dropped a bit, so he leaned in close to your ear and said, “Do you want me to walk you home?” You felt a little guilty about making him leave, but Sungchan kept insisting, so the two of you finally left the club.

On the way home, you talked about silly things, anything that came to mind, goofing around as you walked through the streets. You couldn’t help but laugh whenever you were with Sungchan. At one point, when you were close to your house, you started playing “marry, kill, kiss.” At first, you picked people you didn’t like or those you really liked. In one of the rounds, you decided to include yourself and two girls you knew Sungchan had liked at some point.

“I’d kill both of them and marry you, obviously,” Sungchan answered with surprising speed.

“That’s not how the game works, Sungchan, you can’t kill both of them…”

“But I don’t want to kiss either of them. I’d kiss you too.”

You kept walking beside him, looking at him, confused by how casually he responded. You had gotten nervous at his answer, but he seemed completely calm.

“Sungchan, you’re way too drunk.”

“Maybe,” he said, laughing and scratching his head a little. “But I don’t lie when I’m drunk, y/n. I could kiss you right now, but I’d rather be sober for our first kiss.”

ᯓ★ WONBIN

"I think I'm a little dizzy..." Wonbin said, looking at you. His big eyes were gazing into yours, and his cheeks were starting to turn red. You couldn't help but smile and touch his cheeks, noticing how they were gradually warming up.

"That's because you drank half a bottle in less than five minutes, Wonbin," you said with a small laugh, pouring yourself a bit into a small glass.

Both you and Wonbin preferred staying in rather than going out, which is why whenever you felt like hanging out with someone but didn’t want to go out, you would always text each other. That night, you decided to meet up, drink some alcohol, and chat since it had been a while, and it was one of your favorite plans together. Usually, you'd both drink slowly and never get too drunk, but that night Wonbin seemed intent on getting drunk, which surprised you since you'd never seen him like that before.

"Your hands are really cold..." Wonbin mumbled after you removed your hands from his cheeks, placing his own hands on them instead.

"They're always cold," you laughed, watching how he was acting while taking a sip from your glass.

You both talked about your usual topics, sharing the latest gossip you'd heard about people you knew. After an hour of drinking, you could definitely tell that Wonbin was getting a little drunk. You loved teasing him normally, but it was even more fun when he was drunk because he looked so cute when he complained. At one point, both of you fell into a few moments of silence, and you noticed Wonbin’s gaze on you. You looked back at him, locking eyes for a few seconds, but when you saw the way he was looking at you, you looked away, feeling a bit nervous.

"Why are you looking at me like that? You're making me nervous..."

"It's just... you look really pretty," he murmured while still gazing at you.

"Don’t say nonsense, Wonbin, you’re too drunk."

"Maybe I am, but I’m not lying... I really like you, y/n."

ᯓ★ SEUNGHAN

You and Seunghan had gotten along well since the first day you met in class. I mean, everyone liked Seunghan because he was very kind to everyone. You couldn’t deny that you had developed a little crush on him, but you knew how popular he was and thought he probably only saw you as a friend, so you never said anything and had no intention of doing so. Your class group had organized an end-of-year dinner after the exams, so you had all met at a restaurant. As always, Seunghan sat next to you since he was the person you were most comfortable with in your class. At the beginning of the dinner, everyone talked about the teachers and different subjects, but as the night went on, the conversation shifted to gossip and confessions. On top of that, many of your classmates started drinking and getting drunk. You didn’t like drinking alcohol, so you were completely sober. What you didn’t expect was for Seunghan to get drunk, and what surprised you most was the way he acted. Unlike the others, who became much more active and loud, Seunghan seemed calmer. In fact, he was much more affectionate than usual, acting in a way you had never seen before. As the night went on, people gradually left. Eventually, only Seunghan, you, and a few others remained at the table, though Seunghan was already struggling to keep his eyes open. He had drunk too much and was starting to talk about random things, laughing at everything.

At one point, you felt his head rest on your shoulder, which surprised you and made you a little nervous.

“Seunghan… are you okay? Do you want me to call a taxi?” you whispered, glancing at him and grabbing his arm to keep him steady.

“Y/n... I have something to tell you…” he whispered in a low tone, gesturing for you to lean closer. You laughed and leaned in to listen. “I like you...” he whispered a little clumsily before pulling away and giving you a small laugh.

You froze, staring at him. Did you hear him right? Did Seunghan just tell you he liked you? After a few seconds of staring in silence, you shook your head, thinking he only said it because he was drunk.

“Guys... did you know I like y/n?” he said to the others left at the table, who laughed at how drunk he was.

Feeling embarrassed, you decided to call a taxi and grab Seunghan to leave. “I think it’s time to go home, Seunghan…” After dropping him off at his place, you couldn’t help but spend the whole night kicking your feet, thinking about the way he had just confessed to you.

ᯓ★ SOHEE

You loved seeing Sohee drunk. He was already funny normally, but when he got drunk, he became overly extroverted and energetic, which made you laugh a lot. There hadn’t been a party in months, so it had been a long time since you’d seen Sohee drunk. But that night, both of you had been invited to a friend’s house party. It had been weeks since you’d been able to hang out with Sohee due to your schedules, so besides being excited about finally going to a party, you were also excited to see Sohee after so long because you had missed him a lot. Not even an hour had passed before Sohee was dancing everywhere, jumping around, and joking with everyone. You loved seeing him so happy, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched him. You had been together the whole time at the party, but when you returned after grabbing another drink, you found a girl had approached Sohee to talk to him. At first, you felt a little disheartened, but you thought maybe this was Sohee’s chance to meet someone, and who knows, maybe start dating. You couldn’t deny that sometimes you wondered if you liked Sohee, but you always ended up with the same conclusion: you didn’t know.

You decided to go out to the patio to drink, as you didn’t feel like being around the others at that moment. You needed a quiet moment after dancing for so long. After spending a few minutes alone with your thoughts, you noticed someone sit beside you. When you looked, you found Sohee, who sighed and then looked at you, laughing.

“Weren’t you with a girl, Sohee?” you asked, looking at him while sipping your drink.

“Yeah... she came up to talk to me.”

“She was pretty cute, wasn’t she?” you let out a small laugh, nudging Sohee, who seemed rather serious.

“Well, maybe.”

“Is something wrong, Sohee?” You looked at him, noticing his cheeks and ears were a little red. Although Sohee could be very energetic when drunk, there was also a moment when all that energy faded, but he still remained pretty drunk. Most of the time, when this happened, you would stay up late talking about anything together. “Didn’t you like the girl?”

“No... Actually, I’m only interested in one person,” he said, resting his head on his arms and staring at you intently.

You were surprised to hear this and stared back at him. The two of you locked eyes for several long seconds. You couldn’t quite explain it, but you felt like Sohee was speaking to you with his gaze. You couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach from the way he was looking at you.

“Sohee... you know you won’t remember this tomorrow, right?”

“Then remind me, y/n, so I can tell you when I’m sober.”

ᯓ★ ANTON

You and Anton had never gotten drunk before, but when you were younger, you had both promised that the first time you did, you would be together. That’s why you were now in Anton’s living room. You had bought some pizzas and a few bottles of soju since it was the drink all your friends had recommended at some point. To be honest, both of you were excited, but deep down, you were a little nervous about how it would make you feel. To your surprise, after finishing an entire bottle of soju between the two of you, you only felt a little happier. Unlike you, Anton was acting quite differently. First of all, his ears and cheeks were completely red, which you found really cute. You also noticed that he was talking more, and his voice had changed. It was slightly deeper and a bit louder, which surprised you; though you could also tell he was struggling to say some things. After finishing the second bottle, you felt a bit more dizzy, but you decided not to open another one, seeing the state Anton was in. He couldn’t stop talking nonsense and was becoming very touchy with you. You thought that one of you had to stay a bit sensible in case anything happened.

You had already finished eating and were both sitting on the couch watching TV, with Anton’s head resting on your shoulder. At one point, you felt his gaze linger on you longer than usual, so you looked back at him, feeling a bit nervous about the way he was staring at you.

“Is something wrong, Anton...? Are you okay?”

“You have such beautiful hair, y/n…” he began to murmur, making you chuckle. “Your laugh is beautiful too, and your eyes, and your lips…” You both fell silent for a few seconds, looking at each other. “I think I like you, y/n.”

You couldn’t help but be surprised at hearing this, shaking your head several times as you felt your cheeks heat up. “Anton, you don’t know what you’re saying, you’re drunk…”

“I’m serious, y/n, I like you so much. I could kiss you right now…” he whispered, leaning closer to you, but you grabbed his shoulders.

“Anton… let’s talk about this when you’re sober…”

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori @enhacolor

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little-star-library · 9 months ago

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If you have the time, I’d like you to imagine if you will:

You and Astarion are in the middle of a small clearing just outside of camp and he has you pinned against a tree, staring you down with an intensity of his eyes, but there’s a flash of worry that crosses over his face before he replaces it with his usual mask of facade.

Only moments ago, he witnessed you speaking with Karlach in what sure as hells looked like something that was far more than friendly conversation. The two of you were speaking in hushed tones, giggling at each other’s anecdotes and inside jokes. He’s only just beginning to know you and has successfully bedded you already to ensure his protection and alliance, so why does he all of a sudden care about who you talk to? He was never one to get jealous over someone, surely, but there was a vague flash of possessiveness that overtook his mind and it was overwhelming to say the least.

“So, my dear,” he drops his voice into a low rumble. “Care to explain what you and Karlach were up to earlier?”

“I’m sorry, but what?” This took you by surprise and you honestly don’t know what brought this on.

“Oh come now, don’t be coy.” Astarion scoffed, taking a step closer to further intimidate you and trap you under his hardened gaze. “I saw everything that was going on between you two, your little whispers of shared delight. You were practically oozing into a puddle by her side.”

Oh. Now you understood what this was about. You didn’t think that he was one to actually care with his ‘devil may care’ attitude and you weren’t going to apologize for some friendly banter with one of your fellow companions. You felt like you were never in the wrong in the first place and it wasn’t his business to know who you were conversing with. But this was an advantage for you to see if he actually wanted something more than just a one night fling and a plan started to brew in your mind.

“Wait, don’t tell me you’re actually jealous.” You matched his gaze and your lip twitch into a little smile in defiance. He grimaced at your response and his fangs gleamed in the low light of the setting sun with a disgusted curl of his lip. That was all the confirmation you needed and you couldn’t help but feel bad now that you caught him, but you wanted to see how far you could push him in retaliation for his blasé remarks he made of the last night you spent together.

“You know,” you teased. “You’re pretty cute when you’re angry.” That was the last straw by the look on his face, clearly unamused by how nonchalant you were about the situation.

“Oh really?” He leered, grasping your chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger, lifting your jaw until there was nothing but a few inches of space from his lips making contact with your own. “Well I’m about to be fucking gorgeous.”

“You already are.” Your breath hitched at the sharp inhale he took in, expecting him to yell at you for being so infuriating, but you were pleasantly surprised when Astarion pressed his lips against yours in a passionate kiss that left you shuddering from head to toe. You melted instantly in his embrace and instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck to further deepen the embrace, but it was shortly lived as he curled his fingers through the hair at the back of your neck and yanked your head back to glare at you with a look that held such a ferocity it made you weak at the knees.

“You’re truly insufferable.” He was seething at this point and a pang of guilt dropped low in the pit of your stomach for not taking him seriously. It was clear now that this was something that was gnawing away at him. “Pretending to be so oblivious to the rather obvious onslaught of flirtations from the others, it’s a rather pathetic act to uphold if you ask me.”

“I’m sorry, Astarion.” You huffed out a laugh, trying to maintain a cool demeanor to not upset him more. “But you know that I only have my eyes set on you, right? I would never stoop so low to lead you astray like that and I quite enjoy spending my time with you. If you say that I’m ‘oblivious to their flirtations’, then I can only say that part is true because I’m not actively looking for it. That’s because I’m not interested in them. I’m interested in you, if you’ll still have me.”

Your confession had him pause unexpectedly and his stiff demeanor began to roll off of him in an instant as you saw the light in his eyes soften and his shoulders slumped lower. Of course he was quick to assume that you were anything but loyal to him, however that lingering sense of jealousy in the back of his mind began to fade as he flitted his narrowed eyes across your facial features in search of any hints of deceit and found none. Your face only reflected your reassurance of your feelings as you smiled softly up at him and he suddenly forgot why he was upset at all. You were too kind and sweet for your own good and Astarion felt as if he could never really deserve someone as devoted as you were, but here you are.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” He chuckled lightly at the absurdity of the present situation, clearing his throat to chase away the anxious tension. “You don’t have anything to apologize for and I should be the one begging for your forgiveness. And I really am sorry, darling. I suppose I did get a tad carried away and assumed something was…off, to put it plainly.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you grinned cheekily. “You had your reasons and I understand where you’re coming from, honestly. And if there’s something on your mind that’s bothering you, I also hope you know that you can always come to me if you need to talk. We don’t have to rush into anything you’re not comfortable with yet and there’s no hurry to make anything official between us if that’s what you want, but I’m here for you nonetheless.”

You once again stunned him into silence and you could swear that you saw the faintest blush bloom across his cheeks when you raised up to the tips of your toes to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. He really was cute in his own way. Through your eyes, you saw a man slowly learning to become his own person and you knew all too well how painful it could be when you feel like you were always being taken for granted. But you also witnessed a good number of his quirks that began to shine through as you grew closer to one another over time and you hope that one day he can see that he deserves to be loved and cherished just like anyone else does.

“Thank you.” His voice was barely above a whisper now, his touch gentle as he took your hand in his own to kiss at the back of your knuckles. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

You could tell that there was more on his mind, but didn’t know how to put his thoughts into words presently and that was okay. As long as he knew that he had your support, then that was enough for you.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #dungeons and dragons #fluff #jealousy #little star library

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haikyu-mp4 · 5 months ago

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Plant lover

word count; 1369 – f!reader, for my idea exchange with @dira333 <3

In some way, you knew what to expect when you joined a male-dominated profession. Naturally, part of you wanted to expect the worst, but you couldn’t give up before even starting! You went into it with high spirits.

During your first week, there were a few incidents of men making rude comments. Whether it was asking if you needed a makeup break or telling you that you should leave certain tasks for the men, you would smile back and leave them be. That’s why you were so surprised when Futakuchi, one of your coworkers, shut them up by snapping back on your behalf.

Futakuchi was sick of it. He didn’t usually get involved in anything that didn’t affect him at the workplace, but he was sick of hearing every single guy bother you for no reason at all. You were more than capable and way more reliable than many of them ever were. So he snapped back, making sure they all reconsidered any other comments they might have made up in their minds.

Before the weekend, Aone sent out a reminder for their ex-Dateko monthly game night. Aone might not be the biggest talker or texter, but he hosted these get-togethers to keep the squad together.

Futakuchi had an idea, and it wasn’t such a bad one this time. Many of the others had brought partners or other friends to some game nights before, so it wouldn’t be a problem, asking you to join. He walked over to you at lunch, tapping the table beside you to get your attention.

“Hey, newbie. Wanna come to game night with some of my friends? You can practice talking back to these guys,” he said, hiding his kind intentions behind that fake motive. You could only nod in agreement.

On Saturday, Futakuchi shook his head as he saw what you carried when meeting him by the entrance to Aone’s apartment building. It was a healthy snake plant, classically known as a plant you don’t need to care much for since you weren’t sure what kind of guys you were meeting.

“That’s just perfect,” he chuckled, and you soon found out why. As the door was opened, you were introduced to the jungle-like apartment and its owner.

“Welcome,” Aone said with the tiniest smile, and your starry eyes moved from the plants in his hallway to him.

“Thank you so much for having me,” you greeted him, smiling at him with wonder.

You even forgot about Futakuchi until he cleared his throat and pointed at the plant you carried. “Where will this fit in?” he asked, somehow managing to tease both you and Aone simultaneously.

“I brought this for you, but it seems I could have chosen something more challenging.” You held out the plant with a soft laugh, and after he took it, you finally shrugged off your jacket to hang it up. “It’s a jungle in here!” you commented as you followed him further into the apartment, and Futakuchi introduced you to the rest in one fell swoop before sitting down haphazardly on the couch.

“Thank you,” Aone said, looking around for a place to put the new plant. “I think I’m out of pots.”

As the evening went on, all the other guys would glance over at the two of you, where you would be talking animatedly about something or the other, like an anecdote related to some plant or something else you happened to remember, and he would nod along patiently.

Now and then, you would move so he could show you some plants in another room, so the squad had no idea when exactly you managed to plan a thrift shop date, but Aone revealed in their group chat on Monday that he would be looking for new plant pots with you.

“Did you always like greenery?” you asked Aone as you navigated through your third thrift shop. He had a tote bag on one shoulder that was awkwardly bumpy with the other pots you had chosen from the previous stops.

“I liked a girl once, and I wanted to impress her,” he told you, and you pretended to look at the opposite shelf, nodding in understanding. “I don’t talk to her anymore, I just started loving the plants.”

You giggled at the picture in your head of Aone slowly giving more attention to his collection rather than that girl. “Evidently, it must be love. Between you and the plants I mean,” you joked, making him smile a bit.

Suddenly, your eyes set on a gorgeous blue pot with intricate flower details on it, and just as you were about to point it out, Aone’s arm shot out to point at the same one.

In your excitement, you rested your hand on his lower arm. “I was looking at that one too! We have to get it.”

And in the implications of how nice it sounded when you said ‘we’, Aone lowered his arm and let your hand slide down into his. Then he used his free hand to pick the pot up and put it in the basket you were carrying before taking the whole basket from you.

You stared at him for a moment, cheeks flushing red in the innocence of his affection before you finally put some energy into your feet and kept going, pointing out more pretty options and blushing every time you had to step closer to him to put them in the basket.

Because you found so many pretty pots, you arranged to meet up at your place another time, and Aone had brought some cuttings and other plant babies that might grow nicely at your place.

The two of you worked on filling your apartment with plants in mostly comfortable silence. He would tell you little facts he knew and you would listen intently.

After washing off your hands and cleaning up the table you had used, you made dinner, and the two of you settled into your sofa to watch reruns of sit-coms all evening.

It was no wonder the two of you were falling, fast.

After you had gone on a couple of more-than-friendly dates, Futakuchi told Aone that you still get comments from your coworkers when he wasn’t around. Aone didn’t even hesitate to utilise some overtime and extend his lunch hour to visit you.

When he stepped inside, his presence spoke for itself as your coworkers’ eyes went to him. He was holding two bentos, one covered in a cute green cover and tied into a knot at the top.

You were kind and soft and Aone loved that about you, so unlike Futakuchi, he didn’t want to encourage you to fight back. He didn’t want you to get in trouble when you were already at a disadvantage.

So he let his eyes fall into a determined glare, making sure most of them noticed him as he finally found you, covered in dirt but with a bright smile as you spotted him. “Takanobu!” you yelled, and that alone made him soften up.

“Hello, I brought you lunch,” he said, handing the bento over.

With hearts in your eyes, you dusted your hands off on the equally dirty pantsuit before taking the bento, eyes tearing up as you looked up at him. “Thank you! I can’t believe you did that, I even forgot my lunch at home.”

Aone bowed, giving you that small smile. “I have a long lunch, we can eat together.”

So you did, and Futakuchi was happy to report that you had been receiving less degrading comments and found the time to bond with some of the few other women in other departments.

Times were looking good, and you had Futakuchi to thank for it. He watched you with a raised eyebrow as you came over one day at work with a cheeky smile. “Congratulations on your new boyfriend,” he cooed.

“Thank you! I was thinking that when we get married…” Futakuchi’s eyes almost bulged out of his eyes at the statement, and you rested a hand on his shoulder. “I want you to be the flower girl.”

At least he knew you were serious about this relationship. His best friend was in safe hands.

masterlist

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mysunshinetemptress · 6 months ago

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Happily Ever after??

Leah Williamson x Jordan Nobbs x ChildWilliamson!Reader Warnings:Childhood Heartbreak

You don't know what to do, you don't know how to feel all you know is that your world has just ended, your older sister Leah and her long-term girlfriend Jordan have called time on their relationship and the mist of breaking each other's hearts with this conclusion they have also broken yours, your small ten-year-old heart.

The older girl's relationship has been going on the majority of your life, you don't remember a time without Jordan, Jordan your all-time best friend, Jordan who let you stay up just a bit later than Leah, who gave you chocolate on the weekdays, who picked you up from school, attended all of plays, all of your matches, who stood outside and helped you practice power shots in the pouring rain, who helped teach you how to ride a bike and made sure to be there for every birthday and Christmas was now gone.

Sure you could see her at Arsenal matches and talk afterwards but it wasn't the same.

Your older brother Jacob tells you it's been coming for a long time, that everyone knew it was going to happen, that they wouldn't last forever but you, you feel blindsided, they were the epitome of what love was, what love is supposed to be, how were you meant to fall in love and get married and live happily ever after if Leah and Jordan couldn't.

Leah had found herself seeking you out wanting to comfort you as well as comfort herself through the breakup, Leah knew how much you loved Jordan, how much she meant to you, and so she knew you wouldn't be dealing with the properly at all, how could you, you're ten.

What she wasn't expecting was for you to shut her out completely, for you to not want to talk to her, for you to want nothing to do with her.

"She doesn't understand Le." Leah sighed wrapping her hands around the warm mug "I know Mum but, what can I do." Amanda shrugged "She's heartbroken, she needs time to fix that, plus she feels torn." Leah looked at her mum confused "Torn." Amanda nodded "You're her big sister, she loves you, and adores you, but she also loves and adores Jordan and she feels like if she talks to or about Jordan she is being mean and upsetting you, and if she talks to or about you to Jordan she is being mean and upsetting Jordan."Leah felt her heart break at the thought of you feeling guilty for wanting to talk to Jordan, she had told Jordan amidst their break up that she wanted the pair of you to be just as close as you were.

Now Leah was seeing that it was easier said than done.

The days blurred together in a haze of sniffles and silent dinners. You retreated further into yourself, a fortress built from unspoken grief and a fractured picture of happily ever after. Leah tried everything – movie nights ended in tearful meltdowns at the slightest hint of romance, attempts at baking cookies were met with a slammed door to your room, even the promise of a brand new Arsenal jersey couldn't coax a smile.

Jacob, ever the pragmatist, tried a different approach. He'd barge into your room, not to pry, but to simply be a presence. He'd sprawl on the floor, launch into a ridiculous commentary of an imaginary football match, or share the latest embarrassing anecdote about a classmate. Sometimes, a flicker of a smile would peek through the cracks of your grief, a tiny spark of normalcy in the storm.

Today however was hard, your first match without Jordan, you played terribly unable to focus on the game at hand, your thoughts spiralling due to the older girl's absence.

You huddled under the covers, the sounds of the house muted by the thick cotton. Tears welled up again, blurring the image of the dusty Arsenal posters plastered on your wall. Leah had been right, seeing Jordan at Meadow Park wasn't the same. Sure, you'd chat, Jordan ruffling your hair with a strained smile, but the easy banter, the sleepovers with whispered secrets under fairy lights, those were gone.

Jacob's words echoed – "they wouldn't last forever." But forever was what you craved. Leah and Jordan were supposed to be the blueprint, the happily ever after you'd build your own love story on. Now, the blueprint was crumpled, tossed aside. Did that mean your own dreams were just as fragile?

Anger flickered, hot and unexpected. Maybe Leah didn't understand. Maybe no one did. They all expected you to "get over it," as if Jordan was just a stray sock, easily replaced. But Jordan wasn't a sock, she was a missing puzzle piece, leaving a gaping hole in your world.

A soft knock at the door startled you. It creaked open a sliver, revealing Leah's worried face. "Hey, can I come in?" she asked tentatively.

You hesitated. Talking meant acknowledging the gaping hole, the shattered dreams. But silence felt like a betrayal of the bond you shared. With a sigh, you mumbled, "Okay."

Leah crawled onto the bed, the familiar scent of her vanilla shampoo bringing a pang of comfort. She didn't try to talk, just sat there, a warm presence in the dim room. After a while, you found yourself reaching for her hand, the silence no longer a burden but a shared understanding.

"I miss her, Le," you whispered, voice thick with emotion.

Leah squeezed your hand. "I know, honey. I miss her too."

It wasn't the answer you wanted, but for the first time, you didn't feel alone in your grief.

Leah had made sure to keep her foot in the small crack of the door you had opened for her.

The weeks that followed were a slow dance of healing. Movie nights remained off-limits for a while, replaced by marathons of silly comedies Leah found on obscure streaming services. Baking sessions became a team effort, filled with flour-dusted giggles and the occasional mess that only siblings could create. The brand new Arsenal jersey remained folded on your chair, a silent promise for when you were ready to wear it with pride again.

Jacob's commentary continued, evolving from imaginary football matches to dramatic retellings of historical events, complete with him dressing up in mismatched clothes to portray the various characters. Sometimes you'd join in, adding your own witty remarks or mimicking the historical figures' accents, a flicker of your old self returning.

You had begun to get used to Jordan not showing up to your matches but today's match had been just as bad as the first one you had played without Jordan on the sidelines.

The final whistle blew, a harsh screech that echoed the hollowness in your chest. You slumped onto the bench, head hung low, the sting of defeat a dull ache compared to the gaping hole in your world. Your teammates, usually boisterous after a win (which this definitely wasn't), offered hesitant pats on the back, their usual celebratory whoops replaced with a quiet concern.

Jacob, ever perceptive, lingered at the edge of the field. He didn't push you to talk, just leaned against the fence, whistling a nonsensical tune you recognized from one of his childhood obsessions. As you started gathering your things, a familiar figure caught your eye across the field. Jordan, looking every bit as lost as you felt, stood awkwardly by the gate, a nervous energy radiating from her.

Suddenly, the anger that had been simmering beneath the surface threatened to boil over. How dare she show up now? Did she think a few stolen glances from across the field could erase the months of silence, the absence that gnawed at your insides? You clenched your fists, ready to storm off, when a warm hand touched your shoulder.

It was Leah. Her eyes, red-rimmed but determined, held a silent plea. "Give her a chance," she mouthed, a small, hopeful smile playing on her lips.

Hesitantly, you turned towards Jordan. The distance between you felt like an uncrossable chasm. But then, a memory surfaced: you, a wobbly mess on two wheels, Jordan running alongside, her laughter echoing in the air as you finally found your balance. A small tear escaped your eye, tracing a warm path down your cheek.

Taking a deep breath, you started walking. Slowly, tentatively, you closed the gap. You weren't sure what to say, how to navigate this new terrain, but you knew one thing – building walls wouldn't bring back the sunshine. As you reached Jordan, a single word tumbled from your lips, a question hanging in the air.

"Hi?"

The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken emotions. Jordan scuffed her toe on the ground, mirroring your hesitation. Then, she spoke, her voice barely a whisper.

"Hey, Champ. I..." she faltered, searching for the right words. "I came to see how you were doing."

You looked up, surprised. You hadn't expected her to reach out, to apologize, to acknowledge the pain she'd caused. A flicker of hope sparked in your chest, but you quickly tamped it down. It was too early to trust again.

"I'm okay," you mumbled, kicking at a stray pebble.

It wasn't entirely true. You were far from okay, but you weren't sure how to explain the confusing mix of emotions swirling inside you: anger, sadness, a longing for the way things used to be.

Jordan saw through your facade. She knelt down, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Can we talk?" she asked softly.

You hesitated, glancing back at Leah, who stood by the fence, offering a silent nod of encouragement. With a shaky breath, you nodded back at Jordan.

Finding a quiet corner away from the prying eyes of your teammates, you sat down on a grassy knoll. Jordan sat beside you, her gaze fixed on the setting sun painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.

The conversation wasn't easy. Tears welled up in your eyes as you spoke of your disappointment, the feeling of being abandoned. Jordan listened patiently, her own voice thick with regret as she explained the complexities of the breakup, the reasons that had nothing to do with you.

Slowly, a bridge began to form between the chasm that had separated you. You learned that Jordan still cared about you deeply, that she missed your laughter, your company, your fierce determination on the football pitch. You realized that breakups weren't always about falling out of love, but sometimes about growing in different directions.

As the last rays of sunlight faded, you found yourself reaching for Jordan's hand. It wasn't the same easy camaraderie you once shared, but there was a tentative warmth, a flicker of hope for a new kind of relationship.

Walking back towards Leah, you felt a lightness in your step, a sense of closure you hadn't expected. The gaping hole in your world wasn't filled entirely, but the sharp edges had softened. You knew Jordan wouldn't be cheering you on from the sidelines every game anymore, but you also knew that the love and support of your sister and the lessons learned from this heartbreak would stay with you forever.

Weeks later you looked like your old self, and you weren't anxious about your future love life (That was years down the line, if Leah had anything to do with it.)

Leah was getting ready to leave for Meadow park when you pocked your head into her room.

"Can I come?" you asked hesitantly.

Leah's smile was brighter than the morning sun. "Of course you can," she said, ruffling your hair.

The game itself was a blur. You barely registered the score, your focus entirely on Jordan and Leah. After the final whistle, you stood awkwardly by your Mum's side, unsure of what to do. Then, you saw them, walking towards you with a hesitant smile. Together like old times.

"Hey, champ," Jordan said, ruffling your hair just like she used to.

You mumbled a greeting, your cheeks burning. For a moment, there was an awkward silence. Then, Jordan surprised you both.

"You know," she said, kneeling down to your eye level, "even though things are different with Leah and me, that doesn't mean we can't still be friends. After all, who else will help you practice those power shots in the pouring rain?"

A hesitant smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Agreeing quietly, you felt the foundations of your world seeming to be formed and your heavy heart didn't feel so heavy anymore

#woso #awfc #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso imagine #leah williamson #leah williamson x y/n #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson x you #jordan nobbs #jordan nobbs x reader #jordan nobbs imagine

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sl-ut · 11 months ago

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new years eve

more college!abby

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PUBLISHED A WHILE AGO, BUT LIKE I MENTIONED BEFORE, A LOT OF SHIT CAME UP AND DIDN’T LET ME FINISH ANYTHING THAT I’VE BEEN WORKING ON. TYSM FOR YOUR PATIENCE, AND ENJOY!

also tysm to @princesssmars for giving me permission to steal her idea lol ily babe.

pairing: college!abby anderson x fem!reader

description: abby invites y/n on her friends’ annual new years ski trip! five days of uninterrupted fun at a private chalet with abby, her friends, her ex boyfriend, and his current girlfriend who seems to have some kind of vendetta against them both.

warnings: UNEDITED, smut (not a lot tbh), swearing, alcohol consumption, mentions of drug use, owen is really mean to reader, homophobia, a lot of sweet little moments between abby and reader

words: 7.4K

date posted: 07/01/24

Y/n knew she wasn’t exactly the most welcome on this trip, they didn’t even try to hide it. The only exception to this would be, of course, Nora, who’d been the one to set her up with Abby in the first place, and Manny, who genuinely seemed like the only one who didn’t seem bothered by her presence at all times. Not wanting to impose on a seemingly very strict tradition, Y/n initially declined her girlfriend’s offer to spend New Years Eve together in Aspen, which didn’t go over as well with Abby as she had expected.

“They don’t mind, really.” She tried to reassure her, only to be met with a knowing look, “Okay, a few of them feel that we shouldn’t bring people outside of our friend group, but think about it; Owen and Mel are both going, Leah is bringing Jordan…” Then came the ultimatum of, “No, if you don’t go, I don’t go.”

The threat was more than what Abby’s words even said. The cabin belonged to Abby’s grandparents, and were more than enthusiastic about their sole grandchild using it with her friends over the holidays, but were stern with the condition that Abby was not to let them go up and destroy it. To summarise, if Abby didn’t go, nobody did, and Y/n was certain that her friends would hate her less if she joined them than if she caused the entire trip to be cancelled.

So there she was on the twenty-ninth of December, tightly belted into the front seat of Abby’s Bronco on the road to Aspen. The drive wasn’t terrible, only a few hours from Abby’s childhood home just outside of Salt Lake city, though Abby made it sort of enjoyable by making a road-trip playlist and barely taking her large hand away from her girlfriend’s thigh throughout the remainder of the journey.

The chalet was more than Y/n even had the ability to imagine. It looked like it was straight out of a movie; high ceilings, wooden panelling lining the entire interior, large windows looking out over a snow-covered valley, all that was missing was for the pair of them to snuggle up together in front of the wide stone fireplace, which was bound to happen at some point over the holiday. As she ran her fingertips over the glazed butcher block counters, she was thankful that the others wouldn’t be arriving until the next day, giving them more time to fulfil the fantasies that had been racing through her mind since setting foot inside the chalet.

Abby was eager to give the full tour, looking delightfully in-place in her tight jeans and cream coloured cable knit sweater. She left no room or corner alone, using little anecdotes and stories from her childhood to help her feel more at home, and finishing by explaining exactly how she would fuck her in each and every room. Y/n laughed and brushed it off in the moment, but came to realise that she was dead serious when she could barely move her legs to crawl out of bed the next morning.

The sweet bliss was finally interrupted by the rest of the crew making their arrivals. First came Leah and Jordan, who immediately rushed to the next biggest room and then made their way to the jacuzzi on the deck. Then came Manny and Nora, who couldn’t seem to get to the kitchen fast enough, before finally, Mel and Owen quietly made their way in, offering silent greetings to their friends before going straight to their bedroom, which didn’t seem to bode well with Mel, who’s complaints carried through the entire ventilation system of the house.

The others seemed to have no patience for their drama, all clearly picking up on the fact that they must have fought the entire drive, as well as the thick tension that filled the room whenever they were both present. Instead, they all gathered in the kitchen for a late lunch and began pouring drinks, loud laughter overwhelming the hushed argument escaping the vent. Y/n was a little surprised to see that even Abby had reached for a second beer, the merriment in the kitchen and the overall excitement for the holiday seeming more important to her in that moment than her otherwise strict fitness regimen, though she really didn’t mind. In fact, she sort of liked the way that she had been looser than she normally would have been, gliding her hands across Y/n’s body without care, laughing along carelessly to jokes that she normally would’ve only chuckled at. She was more open with the group, and made sure to keep Y/n involved in the conversation even when the others talked over top of her.

The atmosphere felt warm, like they were spending time with their closest family members. Manny showed off his mixology skills, which were mediocre at best, while Nora and Abby whipped up a luxurious rendition of pasta with a side salad, all of which seemed to disappear in a matter of minutes, leaving barely enough for both Mel and Owen to split between themselves once they finally re-emerged from their shared bedroom.

The sun was beginning to set early, thanks to the shorter days of winter, leaving poor Manny no other option but to wait until morning until he could finally hit the slopes. Instead, he found interest in offering constant refills to everyone in order to, as he put it, boost morale. Abby had taken the initiative to cut herself off, wanting to make sure she still had her wits about her while also being able to relax, and made sure to warn Y/n about Manny’s drinks.

“He calls himself a mixologist,” She’d whispered into her girlfriend’s ear, “But I’d say he’s more of a wizard. He makes drinks so strong, but somehow covers up the taste of the liquor.”

That was the first and final time that Y/n ignored a warning from Abby, soon enough finding herself stumbling out the door in just her bathing suit, ears completely deaf to everyone’s questions of concern for the nearly naked girl in the cold weather as she clambered into the jacuzzi. She grinned, watching as Abby followed closely behind her, along with Manny, Nora, and Leah.

She snuggled up against Abby’s side, relishing in the weight of her thick bicep around her shoulder as she only half-listened to whatever Nora was trying to fill her in on, and babbling on about some nonsense that no one really had much interest in hearing, but they all listened in and responded as if she were telling the most interesting tale to ever exist.

Once Leah and Nora took over the conversation, she turned to stare up at her girlfriend with glossy eyes, grinning stupidly at the mere sight of her face.

“What?” Abby laughed when she finally took notice.

Y/n shrugged, answering as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “Nothing, just thinking about how much I love you.”

Abby’s already flushed cheeks darkened, but she was quick to press a longing kiss to her forehead and return the sentiment lovingly.

“No,” Y/n frowned, “You don’t understand, I love you. I love how smart you are, I love how you make me laugh, I love how you make me feel loved, I love how you make me feel.”

Abby glanced around at the others to ensure that they weren’t overhearing this intimate conversation. Thankfully, Manny was too wrapped up in making sure that Nora was correctly recounting the time that he successfully hooked up with his TA and bumped his grade up.

“I love your abs, and your big beefy arms.” Y/n continued, leaning her head back against the bulging muscle to emphasise her point, “I love your fingers, too. And of course I love your face, and your pretty eyes, and your nose–God I love your nose, I just wanna sit on it–”

All conversation seemed to stop as the patio door creaked open, all heads turning in surprise to see Owen standing in the doorway, swimming trunks hanging low on his hips and a towel slung over his shoulder.

“Room for one more?”

Manny was the first to break the silence, “Of course, man. We all thought you guys were just calling it for the night.”

The blond furrowed his brow, “What, you guys really thought you could replace me so easily?”

The words were so obviously aimed at his ex-girlfriend and the girl curled into her side, and if she hadn’t been so intoxicated, this probably would have been enough to send Y/n off the rails when it came to Owen. Instead, Abby took the reins in order to diffuse the situation.

“Are you gonna get in or are you gonna keep on bitching, Moore?”

He looked equally as pleased and displeased with her dual-sided tone, both wanting to keep things light while also warning him not to start anything.

“Yeah, yeah,” He tossed his towel to the side and climbed in, taking a seat next to Leah and directly across from Abby. “Whatever.”

The group sat in silence for a few moments before Y/n finally chimed in, “Where’s Mel? Is she coming down?”

He seemed to be visibly annoyed by either the question or by her, probably both. “She’s upstairs, not feeling too well.”

“Oh,” She nodded along, “That’s too bad, I think she really would’ve liked whatever drink Manny just made me.”

Manny grinned at the credit, “I call it, dulce peligro.”

Nora snorted, “Sweet danger? That’s a little on the nose, even for you, don’t you think?”

“Hey, when you start mixing up drinks like that, then you get a say, ‘kay?”

Owen’s stern tone cut through the playful nature of their bickering, “Not likely. None of us really come up here and get sloshed anymore, I guess we’ve all just matured past that.”

Embarrassment crept up her throat, causing tears to spring into her eyes from his clear disapproval of her current state. Nora and Leah shared an uncomfortable stare, both seemingly ready to grab Abby before she could make a move against him, her disbelief and anger so clear on her face.

“Well I definitely haven’t,” Manny chuckled awkwardly, “Besides, the holidays are the only time of the year where it's actually encouraged to get shitfaced.”

“Yeah,” Nora jumped in, “The night’s still young, and most of us probably aren’t even gonna remember tonight.”

Their words had obviously been a mere attempt at bringing comfort to the younger girl, whose face betrayed the insecurity that was very rapidly eating away at her drunken confidence from the inside out. Her eyes had become even glossier, and her heaving breaths made it clear that she was on the verge of tears.

“No,” She wiped at her nose with the back of her hand, “He’s right, I think it’s time I put myself to bed.”

Abby grabbed her hand as she stood up, carefully stepping over her girlfriend’s legs and onto the steps that lead out onto the deck, “Hey, hey, don’t go yet. You’re having fun.”

Y/n could tell she was trying to keep her cool, not wanting to put the other three of her friends in the position of hearing her and Owen fighting once again. She shook her head, stepping out onto the pine floor and wrapping herself in the fluffy white robe that Abby had brought out for her, “I’m tired, I might go take a shower and then just go to bed.”

Abby nodded, standing from her own seat and moving to climb out after her, “Alright, I’m gonna hit the hay too, guys.”

“Aww,” Nora whined, “Guys don’t go yet.”

“Stay,” Y/n turned to Abby, offering a weak smile, “I’m just… tired. You don’t have to come to bed yet.”

“Let me walk you up,” She was practically begging at this point, wanting to comfort her girlfriend when she was so obviously upset.

“C’mon Abs, she’s a big girl. I’m sure she can go to sleep without being tucked in for just one night.”

Abby scowled at him, turning to him with intent as she growled at him, “What the hell is your problem?”

It was true, as bad as Owen usually was when Y/n was around, he was usually only passive aggressive, but now he was just being downright mean. If Abby hadn’t already gone to hell and back trying to convince her friend to let Y/n come (even though she really didn’t give them a choice), Y/n wasn’t about to let the whole vacation be ruined by her pride, choosing to allow Owen’s words to slide rather than biting back as she usually would.

“Abs, it’s okay,” Y/n tried again.

“No I don’t think-”

Nora was the next person to step out of the tub, “You know, I’m starting to get a little pruny anyways, so why don’t I help her to bed?”

Abby appeared annoyed at Nora’s intrusion, but allowed her to pull Y/n away from the situation and back into the chalet, leaving Leah and Manny to face the intense staredown between her and Owen before they, too, fled the scene, allowing the real fighting to start.

Hardly an hour had passed since Y/n had curled herself into bed, not even bothering to get herself ready at all aside from removing her bathing suit and snuggling back into the fluffy robe, leaving her surprised when her light sleep was broken by the feeling of the mattress sinking next to her. Abby looked tired, irritation clear on her face as she slumped against the headboard with a quiet sigh. Her eyes softened as she turned to glance at her girlfriend, an apologetic smile crossing her features when their eyes met.

“Sorry baby, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“‘S okay,” Y/n’s words were slurred with sleep, “‘M sorry too.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Owen’s just being a…he’s being a stupid prick.”

Y/n pushed herself up, scooching across the mattress to snuggle into her girlfriend’s side as sighing at the comforting weight of her arm around her shoulder, “I know but… I don’t know. I guess I can see why he’s annoyed. I’m not one of you guys, I know how I would feel if one of my friends invited their partners to join our traditions.”

“It’s not even about that, it’s–” she cut herself off, a deep frown cutting into her cheeks, “It’s nothing. Let’s just forget it.” She hugged Y/n tighter to her chest, pressing a long kiss to the crown of her head. “I love you, you know that, right?”

Y/n lifted her head, concern filling her at her girlfriend’s tone, “Is something wrong? Did something happen with Owen?”

Abby looked alarmed, “What–No, no. Nothing happened. I promise.”

“Good,” Y/n nuzzled her head back into her shoulder, “‘Cause I’ll kick his ass.”

Abby snorted, “I’m sure you would. Now go back to sleep, I’m gonna go take a shower and I’ll be back.”

Y/n whined, “Are you punishing me or something?”

Abby cocked her head in confusion.

“No invitation?”

A knowing smirk appeared on the blonde’s lips, “I don’t know if you know what you’re asking for here, baby.”

Y/n pushed herself away from Abby, crawling to stand at the foot of the bed as she slowly backed up towards the bathroom, hips swaying seductively as she untied her robe and let it slowly glide down her arms until it hit the floor with a soft thud, leaving her bare for her girlfriend’s viewing pleasure. She bit her lip, fluttering her lashes as she whispered a response, “I think I do.”

Abby grinned, moving faster than Y/n’s brain could even register to race towards her and haul her body over her shoulder as she rushed into the large ensuite. She reached the shower, turning the water on to allow it to heat up for a few moments before she placed her girlfriend onto the marble countertop.

Y/n’s brain swirled with pleasure as the seconds ticked by, the room slowly heating up as steam curled around the glass wall of the insanely oversized shower, feelings only heightened from the bit of alcohol still in her system and her girlfriend’s hands and lips roaming around her body.

“Abs,” she gasped out as her fingers massaged her inner thigh, “I think the water’s ready.”

Despite her previous flurry of attention, Abby seemed to have settled down the moment that they set foot in the shower, relishing in the casual intimacy of carefully washing each other’s hair, lathering one another in a foamy vanilla scented body wash, and just holding each other under the hot water. After all was said and done, Abby pulled her back against her chest, one arm wrapping around her waist and the other curling around her shoulders to hold her in place. Y/n leaned her head back, staring up at the taller blonde with droopy eyelids.

“I love you too.”

“Huh?”

Y/n giggled, “I never said it back earlier, so I am now.”

Abby shook her head, leaning down to press a kiss to her soft lips, “I love you more.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you to the moon and back ten times.”

“Well I love you times infinity!”

“Infinity?” Abby whistled, tightening her arms around her, “Don’t know if I can beat that.”

Scoffing in mock offence, Y/n turned her head to sink her teeth into the meaty bulge of Abby’s bicep, just biting hard enough to leave the faintest of teeth marks in her burning skin.

“Hey!” Abby grunted, twirling her around to face her, “I bring you on this nice vacation, I make you dinner, I drive you around, I rock your world whenever you ask,” her face grew closer with every statement, “And this is the thanks I get?”

Y/n squealed at the feeling of her fingers digging into her sides, leaning up to press their foreheads together, “I suppose you’re right, I’m sorry.” Her hands moved from their places on her biceps, gliding up her slick skin to her neck, then down over her chest, one finding purchase on one of her toned breasts, the other pressing into her firm abdomen, massaging the protruding muscles appreciatively, “Can I make it up to you?”

Abby didn’t respond, instead gripping the back of her head and slamming their lips together, teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance, though the fight was over within seconds as Abby forced her girlfriend into submission. She allowed her to press her against the wall, her shorter frame pressing against her so tightly that it would seem they were connected, then seemingly made the move to flip them around until Y/n pulled back.

“Nuh-uh, I’m making it up to you, remember?” Her hand slid even lower, resting against her lower belly just above the thick patch of blonde curls between her legs.

“Baby, you don’t have to–oh,” Her words came to a halt as her fingers grazed against her clit.

It was a fight that they had on the regular, Abby always feeling like she had to be on the giving end, and not the receiving. To be quite fair, there was never a time where Abby didn’t finish during sex with Y/n, but she seemed to be determined to only allow it happen either against the harness of her strap or directly against Y/n’s own centre. Hell, they’d been seeing each other for almost two months before she even let Y/n go down on her for the first time. She was a giver, and tended to find pleasure in giving, but was growing to enjoy the aspect of receiving just as much.

“Just let me,” Y/n whispered against the wet skin of her neck, lips pressing against her jugular with an indescribable softness. “Can I? Please?”

After finally receiving the green light, Y/n wasted no time in dropping to her knees, nudging Abby’s feet apart as she slid her hands over her thick thighs, lips and tongue gliding along the trembling muscles until the tip of her nose was met with the coarse hair covering her pubis.

A soft grunt fell from Abby’s lips at the contact, chuckling at the feeling of her girlfriend’s nose prodding even further inwards, poking at her clit.

“Spread your legs, baby,” Y/n murmured, mouth barely parting from the skin of her inner thigh as she spoke, carefully scooching in closer as Abby complied, even slinging one of her calves over her shoulder to offer better access. “Thank you.”

Abby laughed, “Look at you, on your knees for me and still so polite. Such a good girl.”

Y/n moaned at the words, finally moving her mouth to drag her tongue up the entire length of Abby’s cunt, whining at the taste of Abby’s dripping nectar. She twirled her tongue around her engorged clit, dragging the muscle over the bundle of nerves, encouraged by Abby’s moans and the grip she had on the back of her head.

“Right there,” The blonde gasped, bucking her hips against her face, pressing her hand even more firmly against the base of her skull. “Yeah, right fucking there. Shit.”

Then the real moaning started. What had begun as muffled grunts had quickly developed into breathy cries of pleasure, the only words falling from her lips being drawn out curses or punchy words of praise.

Y/n prodded her tongue around the opening of her core, poking inside shallowly, hardly able to slip inside with how tightly she was clenching. Chuckling, Y/n drew her middle finger against the opening, “Relax for me, Abby.”

At her words, the muscles of her core almost immediately relaxed, easily accepting the intrusion of her finger with eagerness, walls clamping down as she added her ring finger. She pulled her face away for a moment, pumping her fingers in and out with precision as her fingertips easily found purchase against the spongy flesh that caused her eyes to roll back in her skull.

Y/n grinned, pressing her lips against the thigh that had rested over her shoulder. She would never be able to recover from this view that she was so rarely able to see; Abby’s head tilted back, eyes hooded and lips parted as she whimpered out soft praises, small breasts heaving with each breath and her nipples pebbled with arousal. There was something about having somebody so big and strong at her disposal that she simply couldn’t get enough of, knowing that in a simple movement, Abby could have her at her disposal before she could even protest, the idea that someone like Abby, who took such pride in her dominance, was willing to give it up just for her.

Feeling the tell-tale fluttering of her inner walls, Y/n quickened the pace of her fingers and returned her mouth to its rightful place on her clit, sucking and licking so gently in comparison to the fast pace of her fingers.

Abby came with a shout, hand forcing Y/n’s face impossibly closer to her core as she continued to pump her fingers, fucking her through the orgasm until she felt her walls slacken. She removed her fingers, and with one last kiss to her inner thigh, she pulled away. Abby moved her leg, reaching down and yanking her girlfriend up to slam their lips together, whimpering at the musky taste of her own cum.

“God, I’m gonna marry you,” Abby murmured against her mouth, drawing soft giggles from both of them.

“Not if I marry you first.”

Abby rolled her eyes as she reached past Y/n, turning the water off and scooping her up in a single movement, “Everything’s gotta be a competition with you, huh?”

Y/n giggled, hooking her ankles at the base of Abby’s spine and wrapping her arms around her neck, “Well, not everything.”

“Yeah? So you’re not gonna try and fight me when I have my way with you?”

Y/n kissed her again, “As long as you don’t make me wait, I’m impatient.”

Abby tossed her on the mattress, completely unconcerned about the fact that she was still dripping wet from the shower. She crossed the room, opening the top drawer of the dresser and fishing around for a moment before she found her target. Y/n watched in awe as Abby skillfully slid the harness up her legs, tightening it just enough that it wouldn’t slip as she turned, revealing the thick blue dildo hanging from her pelvis.

“Why don’t you just lay there and be a good girl for me, heh?”

When Y/n woke up the next morning, she was stiff, but who wouldn’t be after being bent in every imaginable position for over an hour?

It was nearly twelve o’clock by the time her eyes finally cracked open, and she was disappointed, but not surprised, to find that she was alone in the bed. She was dressed in only one of Abby’s lacrosse sweatshirts, and tucked snugly into the blankets and a note set neatly on the pillow next to her own.

Went out to the slopes, be back soon. Love you.

Y/n sighed, tossing the note aside as she glanced around the room, noticing that Abby must have tidied up a bit before she left, everything that had been knocked over or thrown across the room in the early hours of the morning having been set neatly back in place. Y/n would have preferred to stay in bed a while longer, but her throbbing headache demanded that she go downstairs and consume as much coffee and aspirin as possible without needed medical attention (luckily for her, she has a sexy pre-med girlfriend on standby).

After cleaning herself up some and tidying her hair (and cursing herself for not doing her entire hair routine while it was wet) and sliding a pair of sweatpants up her legs, she shuffled down the wooden staircase to face the few stragglers that stayed behind.

In the kitchen, she found Nora, who seemed like she had just returned, still dressed in her snowpants as she stood at the kitchen counter stirring her coffee. The dark-haired girl turned her head at the sound of Y/n coming down the stairs, a grin appearing on her face at the sight of the sleepy girl.

“Morning sunshine!” She chuckled, glancing over at the large grandfather clock quickly, “You just won me ten bucks, gorgeous. Manny said you’d be out for the count until the afternoon.”

Y/n raised her eyebrows, shaking her head as she made her own cup of coffee and swallowed two tablets of aspirin. She took up one of the tall stools opposite Nora, quickly taking a mouthful of her drink.

“You come back alone?”

Nora shrugged, “Yeah, once Abby and Manny start making everything a competition I count myself out.”

Y/n nodded her head, a knowing smile crossing her features. She, too, has fallen victim to the pissing contests between those two.

“Was it just you three?”

She pursed her lips, slowly shaking her head, “No, uh, Owen joined kinda last minute. Hey, did Abby tell you anything about last night? Manny said they sort of went after it after we left, but he and Leah kinda made a run for it.”

“No, she didn’t,” Y/n frowned, “She seemed a little worked up when she came to bed, but she didn’t really say much.”

A smirk appeared on Nora’s lips, “Yeah, we all heard how worked up she was.”

The blood drained from Y/n’s face, realisation dawning on her face. She thought she had made some kind of effort to keep herself quiet the night before, but to be fair, she had been intoxicated and Abby had made her come three times with just her tongue before even thinking of putting the strap to work.

“Gotta say, I never pictured Abby being a little freaky, I never even would have imagined some of the shit she was saying to you. It had me blushing.”

Y/n buried her face in her hands, wincing at the burning temperature of her skin. Had they all heard it? She’d been so worried about imposing herself on this trip that she hadn’t even considered the consequences of any alone time that she and Abby would have together. She supposed it was bound to happen; The chalet wasn’t that big, and the vents connected every room together, and even knowing that every other person on the vacation had witnessed their very active and intense sex life, she couldn’t find it within herself to regret it at all. The light purple bruises on her neck were a testimony to the way her night ended, and with Owen around, she would proudly wear them.

The front door swung open, the entire house immediately being filled with the energetic and boisterously loud voice of Manny, obviously still hyped up from his seemingly long session on the slopes. When his gaze fell on Y/n, he hurriedly glanced down at his watch, scowling as he read the time as 11:59, indicating that he had lost the bet. His disappointment was not long-lasting, however, grinning mischievously and wiggling his brows at her as Abby appeared behind her, arms resting on the counter on either side of her body and caging her in, skin cold to the touch through her thin long-sleeve shirt.

“Jesus, Abigail,” He whistled, “What did you do to her? The poor girl looks like she got mugged.”

“Fuck off,” The blonde groaned, pressing a kiss to her girlfriend’s head and chuckling as Y/n raised her middle finger in his direction.

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Manuel.” She hummed, leaning back against Abby’s chest.

Manny seemed surprised at her bold response, turning to the taller girl with a smirk as he continued to tease them.

“That’s enough Manny, I already gave her hell for interrupting my beauty sleep,” Nora added, taking a long sip from her mug.

“Please,” Abby rested her chin on the top of Y/n’s head, “I’ve lived with both of you before, I can’t even count how many times I had to sleep with earplugs in.”

Nora shrugged, “What goes around, comes around I suppose.”

Abby’s body stiffened when Owen appeared next to Manny, his blue eyes narrowing in on the pair across the counter. It didn’t surprise her in the least that Owen would be bothered by their late night activities; Abby had once disclosed to her early on in their sexual relationship that she had very little experience in anything beyond the basics. With Owen, things were quite vanilla, and there was little said and there was almost no experimentation, so it would make sense that he felt a bit dejected at the idea that the woman he was still so obviously in love with was now in a much healthier and more adventurous relationship with someone else.

Abby squeezed Y/n’s shoulders, leaning down to whisper in her ear, “I think I’m gonna go up to the room for a bit, maybe watch a movie and take a nap, if you wanna join me.”

Y/n nodded immediately, excited at the idea of going back to bed, hopping off of the stool and letting Abby lead her upstairs by the hand.

She curled up in the bed, constructing a nest of pillows and blankets on top of the comforter and tucking herself in under a lighter fleece blanket. Abby appeared out of the bathroom, now dressed in a pair of sweats and a tight-fitting t-shirt, her hair hanging loosely around her shoulders. She chuckled when she spotted the structure that had been erected on top of the bed.

“What movie did you pick?” She asked, carefully climbing in next to her girlfriend and snuggling up against her.”

Y/n glanced up at her, “The Holiday. Thought it was fitting.”

A few minutes into the film, Y/n could hardly even hold her eyes open, rolling over to lay on her belly and nuzzle her face into the crook of Abby’s neck. She glanced up at her girlfriend, admiring the way that the flickering colours from the screen were being projected on her face, light catching on her features and causing her rosy cheeks to glow. Abby turned her head, staring down at her with a fond smile.

“What?” She asked, fingers gracing Y/n’s cheek softly.

“Just looking,” She mumbled, “You’re so pretty.”

Abby scoffed, “Says you.”

“Says me,” Y/n agreed, “If anyone else says that, I’ll kill them. Except for your grandmother.”

Abby laughed, “Yes, I would prefer if you didn’t kill Nana, thank you.”

Y/n pressed her lips to the underside of her jaw, “Is everything good between you and Owen?”

“You want everything to be good between us?” Abby raised an eyebrow.

She shrugged, “You know how I feel about Owen, but he’s your friend, and I don’t wanna be the cause of some drama between you if I can help it. Nora said you guys had a fight last night.”

Abby sighed, her arms tightening around her girlfriend’s figure, “I don’t like the way he talks about you. The thing is, when I broke up with him, I was honest with him and he seemed to be okay with it. But since you and I started dating, he seems to be bothered by it. Last night, he was drunk, and he said some pretty nasty stuff about us, mostly about me, honestly.”

“So what, he’s mad that you’ve moved on with someone else, or he’s mad that you’ve moved on with a girl?”

“Not sure,” Abby shook her head, “I don’t–I just wanna move past it. I don’t care what he thinks, and neither should you. If it comes down to you and him, I'm picking you every time.”

Y/n leaned up, nudging Abby’s curved nose with her own before pressing a sweet kiss to her lips, “I love you.”

Abby smiled, kissing her again, “I love you too.”

This time, when Y/n woke up, she was still curled tightly against Abby’s chest. She was thankful, smiling softly as she nuzzled closer to her warmth and simply just laid there contentedly until a loud banging sounded from their bedroom door.

“Wake up, you lazy perras,” Manny shouted through the wooden door, “It’s time to party!”

Y/n had quickly come to realise over the few days at the chalet that Abby’s friends took New Year’s Eve very seriously. Her eyes had grown three sizes at the sight of the mountain of booze that they had all collected to share amongst the group on the one night. Each of them had expressed their excitement for the holiday, even Mel, who had hardly interacted with her the whole time they’d been there.

It was torture to pull themselves out of the little nest they’d made, but they knew that Manny would be back in a matter of minutes if they weren’t out of bed soon, and he would be much less friendly the second time. Taking a few moments to wake themselves up, both girls finally crawled out of bed and began to get themselves ready for the evening, knowing that Leah, Nora, and Mel would be wanting to take and post pictures from the little party on any social media platform that they could get their hands on.

They were both offered drinks immediately upon entering the kitchen, discovering a large bowl of punch sitting in the middle of the large island, apparently having been a concoction made by Jordan and Manny, which became quite obvious once Y/n took a small drink and discovered that it was probably closer in form to a toxic chemical than any kind of enjoyable beverage, but for the sake of the holiday, she continued to take small sips of the drink, quickly followed up by a much more enjoyable Diet Coke.

They spent the evening playing drinking games, watching movies, and exposing each other’s most embarrassing moments until late in the evening, though Y/n decided to cap herself at the one drink, considering the night she’d had the night before, and instead accepted the edible offered to her by Nora, who had also been put off of liquor by the hangover she’d had that morning.

Y/n could admit that the small get-together felt much more intimate and enjoyable to her than attending a larger party, as she likely would have done if Abby had not invited her. Even those who did not overly like Y/n seemed glad to have her there, except for Owen, of course.

Even Mel had entertained some conversations with her and had invited her to jump into some pictures with her and the other girls, the alcohol making her much friendlier than usual. Y/n’s feelings towards Mel were never set in stone. From time to time, she was very nice to her, but the majority of the time, she seemed completely uninterested in her being there. Of course, Y/n could understand it, to a degree; If Abby acted the same way that Owen did when she was around, Y/n would feel the same way, and he apparently hadn’t started acting that way until Y/n came around.

Y/n couldn’t help but keep a watchful eye on the two figures out on the deck, doing her best to not make it obvious, feeling the need to protect her girlfriend from any more hurt, especially after hearing what sort of things that Owen had said to her the night before. They’d only been out there for about ten minutes after Owen had asked her to talk in private, offering an overly sympathetic look to both Abby and her girlfriend, who’d been reluctant to let her go on her own, especially since he had been drinking quite heavily all evening.

In truth, Owen had immediately apologised for what he’d said the night before, shocking the blonde with his words. Normally, Owen was a proud man, never apologising to anyone unless he knows that it might offer him something in return.

“Really,” He had cleared his throat, obviously hesitant and uncomfortable, “I’m really sorry. I wouldn’t intentionally do anything to hurt you, it’s just…You don’t know how hard it’s been.”

“Hard?” Abby repeated, “What’s been so hard for you, Owen?”

He scowled, “Seeing you happy, with someone else–with her.”

She scoffed, “So it is about her. Tell me, if I was dating another man, would you have this issue?”

“Yes!” He looked appalled, “Seriously–how are you trying to turn this into that sorta thing. You know I’m not like that.”

“Do I?” She pressed, “How many times have I heard you use the f slur in passing, or couldn’t stop staring at two girls holding hands in public? You may not realise it all the time, but you are like that, and I can’t just sit back and let you treat someone I love like that.”

He paused, “You love her?”

She nodded.

“I just–I don’t get it. How can you be…you were never like that with me. We were happy, I thought you loved me.”

Abby stared at him incredulously, “I did. Part of me always will, and you know that, but I’m not sure I was ever in love with you.”

That seemed to set him off, “So I was just…what to you? A plaything? An experiment?”

“Owen,” she growled, “You’re the one who started dating someone else only a week after we broke up, and not just anyone, but Mel. The one person who you always told me not to worry about, that you two were just good friends. Now look at you two, you act like an old married couple.”

“I don’t love Mel.” He stated, like it was a blatantly obvious statement. “I love you.”

Abby laughed, pushing herself away from the railing harshly, “You’re drunk, Owen.”

He grabbed her arm, pulling her back into him before she could stomp away, forcing his lips onto hers in a fury of passion. His hand gripped the back of her head, holding her in place as she fought against him. Finally, she sank her teeth into his bottom lip, not relenting until she could taste the iron of his blood and he was forcing her away.

“Fuck!” He swore, reaching up to nurse his bleeding lip, though he was given very little time to recover as Y/n practically flew past Abby and swung her fist into his jaw. He stumbled backwards from the force, flood now running down his chin and neck, “You stupid bitch.”

Abby stepped between the two as he lunged at the shorter of the two girls, shoving him down onto the deck as the others came rushing out after Y/n. She scowled at him, crouching ever so slightly to meet his gaze, “Don’t you ever put your hands on her, or me, ever again.”

She turned to face her girlfriend, hands cradling her now swollen fist and running her thumb over the cracked and bleeding skin over the knuckles, “You okay?”

Y/n lifted her good hand up to swipe at the lip on Abby’s lower lip, tears leaking down her cheeks, “Are you?”

She nodded, pressing her bloody lips to Y/n’s forehead briefly, taking one final look at the man on the floor, who seemed to be in shock and finally realising what he had done, glancing between the two women standing over him, to his friends who all seemed nothing short of disgusted with him, and finally, his girlfriend, who could barely stand to offer him anything more than a fleeting glance. Abby shook her head. She never wanted this, she would have been more than content to keep Owen in her life as a friend, but there was very little that could recover him in her eyes, and she knew that he would never be able to accept her or the woman she loved. She hoped that, at some point in the future, he might come to his senses, but until then, she decided that he would no longer be regarded as one of her best friends, as he previously had been.

She led her girlfriend back inside, grabbing an ice pack from the freezer before guiding her up the stairs and to their bedroom. Abby pushed her to sit on the edge of the mattress, lowering herself to kneel in front of her. She gingerly pressed the ice to her knuckles, shushing her when she whimpered at the sudden cold.

“I’m sorry,” Y/n whispered, “None of this would’ve happened if I didn’t come on this trip.”

“Stop apologising. It’s no one’s fault but his, for being a homophobic prick, and my own, for putting up with it for so long.”

It was quiet for a moment before a giggle escaped from Y/n’s lips, “I told you I would kick someone’s ass for you.”

“That’s really all you got out of this?” Abby laughed, her radiant smile breaking through her otherwise stony expression.

“That,” Y/n leaned down, “And that I love you.”

“I thought you already knew that.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “I did, but this was my proof that I wasn’t joking about it.”

She leaned down, hands cupping Abby’s defined jaw in her hands, holding her just as softly as one might hold a newborn as she pressed a kiss to her lips. When she pulled back, she glanced at the alarm clock on the dresser, smirking as she pressed another kiss to her lips and mumbled against her.

“Happy New Year, baby.”

#reader insert #x reader #imagines #lesbian #abby anderson #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby tlou #college!abby anderson

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sluttywonwoo · 7 months ago

Text

instead of you [part forty-one] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, angst, alcohol consumption, smut (18+ ; mdni)

word count: 3.2k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

additional smut warnings: semi-public messing around, oral - m+f receiving

The other resorts along the shore were nice, yes, but they were also crowded to all hell. There’s no way you would have been able to relax at any of them. Not just because crowds make you anxious, but because Minho probably wouldn’t be able to show his face anywhere. He’d have to wear a hoodie to the pool or swim with a baseball cap on, and even those weren’t guaranteed to be foolproof.

There were hardly any people occupying the outdoor spaces so late in the day so it was like you had the place to yourselves. You and Felix continued to play in the pool while Minho grilled steaks and Jisung worked upstairs. You offered to accompany Jisung while he cooked but he assured you that he was fine to do it himself. Sometimes you kept him company at home but you knew he liked to work alone as well.

The room that you and Jisung were staying in was a standard hotel room but Nikki and Dom had a suite with a kitchenette that he could use to prepare the side dishes.

You ate gathered around one of the fire pits as the sun sank beneath the waves in the distance. When it got too dark out, Dom lit the fire so that you could all see what you were eating. There were path lights littered around the resort but they weren’t bright enough to illuminate the adjacent sitting areas too.

“I wish we had marshmallows,” you sighed. “We could roast them and make s’mores.”

“I think the bar sells little kits,” Jisung piped up. “I remember seeing a sign posted on their menu.”

“How convenient!” Nikki exclaimed.

“Want me to grab some?” Minho offered, already standing from his seat.

You had once again put yourself on the spot. Everyone was looking at you, waiting for your answer.

“I-I’d feel bad. I’m the only one who wants them, so you don’t have to!”

“Don’t be silly, we’d all eat them,” Jisung assured you with a pat on your knee.

“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to try s’mores,” Felix agreed.

Your mouth dropped open in shock. “Wait, you’ve never had one?”

“They’re an American thing, babe.”

“Does that mean you’re the only other one here who has had a s’more?” you asked Jisung.

“I might have had one before,” Minho added thoughtfully.

“Might? You don’t remember?”

“Yeah, well, when we were on the first world tour we had a lot of bonfires and shit but I was pretty drunk at all of them so there could have been s’mores there, there could not have been. I dunno.”

“Anyway,” Nikki swooped in, averting the attention away from her eldest son’s anecdotes of underage drinking. “Minho, why don’t you go grab a few kits from the bar Ji mentioned? I think your father and I would like to try a s’more too.”

“How many do you think we need?” Minho asked.

“It depends on how many each serves. Why don’t we start with two and if we run out of supplies we can send Felix up to get more.”

Felix made a face. “What, me?”

“It wouldn’t be fair to send Minho up twice,” Dom explained.

“What about Jisung?”

“He cooked dinner.”

“I’ll be right back,” Minho interjected, cutting Felix off before he could protest any further. “Does anyone want anything to drink while I’m over there?”

He took everyone’s order and then disappeared in the direction of the bar.

“Do you think he’ll need help carrying stuff?” you whispered to Jisung after he left.

“Oh, shit, maybe.”

“Should I go help him? Would that be weird?”

Jisung looked back toward his parents to check that they weren’t paying attention before answering. “No, I don’t think so. No one suspected anything other than me. Do you want me to go with you, though?”

“No, you cooked,” you reminded him, “you should stay and relax. I’ll go help him.”

He nodded. “Okay. Oh, but kiss me before you go.”

Minho was still waiting when you joined him at the bar. It was almost as deserted as the rest of the pool area. Only a couple of people were occupying the stools and they seemed to be strangers to each other, drinking in silence apart from the waves crashing on the shore nearby and the occasional sound of the blender.

“Hey, stranger,” you said, grabbing Minho’s attention with an elbow to his side.

“Hey... did someone forget to ask for something?”

“No, I came to help you. We realized it’s a lot of stuff to carry all by yourself.”

He scoffed. “You doubted me?”

The bartender placed the drinks and s’mores kit down on the counter in front of Minho right at that moment, leaving both of you to size up all there was to bring back to the fire pit.

“You could have carried all that without spilling anything?”

“Fine, maybe it’s good that you came,” he grumbled.

“Maybe?”

He set his jaw and took a deep breath. “It is good that you came. Thank you for helping. Happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

You grabbed two of the drinks while Minho took the rest, holding the plastic bags of s’mores supplies between his teeth.

Nikki and Dom cheered when you reappeared with everything. The twins looked marginally happier. It was honestly as much as you could ask for from them.

You spent the rest of the evening teaching the Hans how to make, what was in your opinion, the perfect s’more. There were only a few skewers to go around so everyone had to take turns, but it was nice to be able to take your time with something and relax. There hadn’t been much time to do that on this trip. Jisung had warned you of that in the beginning but you were still way more exhausted than you expected to be at this point. At least it was almost over.

The thought of the trip ending was one that you had been pushing to the back of your mind for weeks now. Especially now that Jisung knew what had happened, you didn’t want to think about what would happen when you went back home. Would you grow apart? Would he distance himself once he was no longer in forced proximity with you? Would Minho break up with you? It wasn’t just something you could ignore now. There were only a matter of days left.

When it was over, you would go back to Seoul with the Hans until the summer ended officially. But that would be different too.

“You’re burning your marshmallow, love,” Nikki said softly, putting her hand on your shoulder to get your attention.

“Oh!” you exclaimed and pulled your skewer out of the heat. You blew the flame out and transferred it onto a graham cracker.

“Do you want a new one?” Dom asked.

“No, that’s okay! I like them burnt, actually. I just didn’t mean to leave it in the fire for so long. It could have made a mess.”

Jisung’s dad shrugged as if to say ‘suit yourself’ before taking the rod from you and reloading it with fresh marshmallows.

If it was woodburning, the fire would slowly start to dwindle as the kindling turned to ash. Since it wasn’t, it was still burning as brightly as it had been at the start of the evening when Dom finally turned the propane off. Nikki collected the empty cups and dirty skewers to return to the bar.

“Good night, kids. Don’t stay up too late.”

Felix was the first out of the four of you to go up to his room, leaving you with your best friend and... Minho.

The pool area was completely empty by then.

“I’ll uh, I’ll leave you two,” Jisung said and stood to leave.

You grabbed his hand to stop him. “Wait, no, you don’t have to go.”

“Yeah,” Minho agreed, a little less convincingly. “You should stay.”

Jisung shook his head. “No thanks, I’d rather not third-wheel.”

“Ji-”

“Take as much time as you need,” he said to you. “Just don’t get fucking caught by anyone else.”

You waited for him to leave before slumping forward and sighing into your hands.

“I thought you said he forgave you,” Minho whispered.

“He did. That doesn’t mean he’s okay with it,” you sighed.

Minho leaned back and stretched his arm across the back of the loveseat, inviting you to sit with him. You crossed over to his side and joined him, allowing yourself to lean into his side. He wrapped his arm around you and squeezed your shoulder. It felt nice, to do something so domestic with him, even while sitting in complete silence. Still, you worried about someone seeing you.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“You.”

“What about me?”

“Just you.”

You didn’t want to give him the details and risk ruining the mood so you hoped he was content with that answer. Thankfully, he didn’t ask you to elaborate.

You shivered suddenly, unintentionally but thankfully changing the subject.

“Are you cold?” Minho asked.

“A little.”

“Should I turn the fire pit back on?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s so dark out now. It’ll only draw attention to us.”

“I don’t want you to be cold, though.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Minho didn’t look convinced. “Why don’t we get in the hot tub? You still have your bathing suit on, right?”

“Are we allowed to?”

He shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

You followed Minho over to one of the many hot tubs on the property. It was tucked away behind the now-deserted tiki bar and also totally empty. Minho turned on the jets and ventured down into the water, holding his hand out for you to get in behind him.

You let out a sigh as you sank into the bubbling water, closing your eyes and resting your head against the pool’s edge.

“Better?”

“So much better.”

You looked over to see him smile. “Good.”

You hadn’t realized how cold you were until you were warm. The chill had seeped through your bathing suit too. You could feel it ebbing out of the fabric as well as your muscles the longer you sat in the water.

Minho settled next to you and put his hand on your thigh. It was comforting even though his hand was still cold.

“This is nice,” he said.

“It is nice,” you agreed. “I like being able to do just nothing with you.”

“We don’t get a lot of time to do that, do we?”

“No, not really.”

“Guess that just means we have to enjoy it while we have it.”

You sat up to look at him, wondering if he meant something more than what was implied when he said that. He met your gaze and gave you a questioning look.

“What?” You shook your head and sank further into the bubbles. You were reading way too much into everything. You needed to get a grip.

“What’s wrong?” Minho repeated. “Talk to me.”

“I’m scared to,” you finally admitted.

It wasn’t much, but you were finally being honest with Minho instead of skirting around his questions like you usually did. You could tell your answer hurt him but you were afraid that you’d hurt yourself even more if you told him everything. You had a feeling the conversation was going there anyway, though, and there was little you could do to stop it.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I don’t know... what we are?” You cringed as you said it. “And I don’t want to ruin things by asking, you know, because I like what we have going on and I don’t want it to go away but I also don’t want to get my hopes up by thinking we’re something that we’re not but sometimes you do things that make me think you want something more than... whatever it is we’re already doing but- mph!”

You were cut off with a kiss, like something out of a movie. It was brief, but enough to disrupt your train of thought. You stared at him incredulously, trying to read his expression.

His face was even but his eyes were warm. You wished you knew what he was thinking. Moonlight and the flickering flames of torches in the distance were just enough to illuminate his features. The quirk of his cupid’s bow, the flutter of his long eyelashes...

“What was that for?” you inquired, even though you knew what it was for.

“You were spiraling.”

You sighed, dropping your head into your hands. “I can’t help it.”

“I know,” Minho said softly. “For what it’s worth though, I feel the same way.”

You lifted your head to look at him again, your vision slightly blurred by the water dripping down your face from your wet hands. “What?”

He hesitated. “I feel... what you said. I feel the same way.”

“I don’t even know what I said,” you laughed.

“Me either, but I got the general vibe of it and I’m in agreement.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I... I thought I was making it kind of obvious that I wanted something serious with you.”

“You never said anything outright, though!”

“Because I didn’t know what you wanted,” he explained. “You never said anything either.”

“Well, you’re the man!”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Oh, we’re going there? The feminism just evaporates from your body the moment you’re faced with confrontation?”

“See, you get it.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m telling you now, okay? I want you. In all the ways you’re willing to let me have you.”

You swallowed hard, eyes burning. You didn’t want to start crying and you didn’t want Minho to see you crying so you kissed him again, with more urgency this time. You couldn’t think, hell, you couldn’t breathe, until he pulled away, leaving you wishing and hoping for more.

When your lips met for the third time, he pulled you under with him, just long enough to shock your senses. You gasped for air when you surfaced, pushing your wet hair out of your eyes.

“You’re not supposed to do that!” you scolded, sputtering as you shoved him.

He stumbled backward onto the bench, falling seated again and pulling you on top of him.

“You believe that bullshit?” he scoffed.

“It’s not bullshit! It’s not good for you to put your head under the water in a hot tub!”

“I know people say that but why?”

“I... I don’t know why,” you admitted, “but I know you’re not supposed to.”

��See, you don’t even know!” You gave him a look. “Will you accept an ‘I’m sorry’ kiss?”

“That depends, are you actually sorry?”

He didn’t bother answering. Instead, he kissed you anyway, cradling the back of your head as he slipped his tongue past your lips. He tasted like s’mores and whiskey and chlorine, a combination so strange you couldn’t wrap your head around it.

One of his arms dropped to your waist, wrapping around your body and pulling you closer until your chests were pressed together. You could feel him through his swim trunks, growing harder by the second. You were tempted to take him right there, but you were in public and having sex in a hot tub couldn’t be good either, right? That sounded like an infection waiting to happen.

“Upstairs?” Minho asked breathlessly, lips only centimeters from yours. Not for the first time you wondered if he could read your mind.

You nodded. “Yeah, upstairs.”

You dripped your way back to his room, shivering despite the thick towel wrapped around your shoulders.

“Wanna hop in the shower?” Minho asked between kisses as he fumbled with the straps of your bikini.

“Yeah, don’t want to get your bed all wet,” you replied.

“That would happen whether or not we had just been in the pool,” he joked.

“Hilarious.”

“Jesus, you’re freezing,” he hissed. “Let’s get these off of you, they’re so cold.”

“Is that the only reason you want them off?”

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

You knew Minho was expecting to have sex in the shower but you kind of wanted to fuck on the bed so you sucked his dick while he washed your hair and then took turns rinsing off before moving to his bed. You put your hair up in a towel to avoid the aforementioned wetness and wrapped yourself up in one of the hotel’s robes even though you knew it’d be coming right off.

To your surprise, Minho left your robe on. He just undid the tie around your waist and let it fall open before shouldering himself between your legs. It was kind of like putting a towel down. He was killing two birds with one stone that way: protecting the sheets and keeping you warm.

It didn’t take long for you to cum in his mouth. Minho knew your body like the back of his hand by now. It had taken him a fraction of the time it took your past lovers to learn what made you tick and he used all of that knowledge to his advantage.

He kept going after you came the first time, eager to pull another from you, but you pulled him up by the hair to get his attention before he could get too into it.

“Too much?” he asked.

“Want you to fuck me,” you urged.

Thankfully, he was receptive to this and moved up so that he could position himself on top of you. He notched himself at your entrance and kissed you as he pushed himself inside, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue before pulling away and wiping his face on your shoulder.

“Ew!” you cried and tried to push him away.

Minho looked offended. “What do you mean, ‘ew’? It’s you.”

“That doesn’t mean I want me all over what I’m wearing!”

“Since when?” he joked. “Seems like it’s always all over what you’re wearing when you’re around me.”

“Can we please talk about something else?” you begged, suddenly embarrassed and grossed out at the same time.

Minho laughed and pecked you on the cheek. “What would you rather talk about? The weather?”

You tightened around him as punishment, making him swear and bury his face in your neck. “Fucking hell, you succubus.”

You smiled politely and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer. “Don’t people usually say that if she can talk at all, you’re doing it wrong?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “I was just taking it easy on you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, this was for your benefit,” he continued. “Didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“How gracious of you.”

He clenched his jaw as he started fucking you faster, muttering sarcastically, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was boring you.”

Ironically, you couldn’t respond right away, too caught up in the feeling of how deep he was inside of you to get any words out.

“I forgive you,” you choked out finally.

Your hands fell to his biceps, desperate for something to hold on to. You dug your nails into his skin, making him hiss through his teeth.

“Harder,” he urged. You squeezed harder and he gasped. “Fuck yes, keep doing that.”

“Like this?”

“Just like that, baby. That’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

#instead of you stray kids #instead of you skz #iou stray kids #iou skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee know x female reader #lee know x bi!reader #lee know series #stray kids series #stray kids x female reader

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cameronspecial · 10 months ago

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What if Drew meets the actress!reader' parents and older brother at a family dinner, he would be graciously greeted by their kindness of her family, especially her mother who seems to have a little crush on him. Her father will tell all the funny anecdotes of his childhood and her brother who teases them about marriage of them 😏😅 It's rather embarrassing for her but it's a good night for Drew

Plz can u doing that !?

The Embarrassing Meet

Pairing: Drew Starkey x Actress!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

Masterlist

Y/N has brought home boyfriends since she got famous. Other Actors. Authors. Musicians. Even sons of famous people. However, she hasn’t been as nervous about bringing them home as she was about bringing Drew home. She is incredibly in love with him and family meetings always seem to chase her boyfriends away. Not only are they embarrassing for her, but they also make her boyfriends realize that her home life is not as glamorous as they want it to be. Drew holds the passenger’s side door open for her. She smiles at him, dropping it once she sees her family at the open front door already. “Oh my goodness, look how handsome he is. And he is tall too. He could get all the stuff on the high shelves for us and we could have tall grandchildren, Jeremy,” her mother gushes. The older Y/L/N woman comes running to hug the new arrivals. Drew is more than happy to receive it while Y/N crosses her arms at her mom. “We literally just got here, Mom. Do you have to lay it on so thick?” she asks. Drew smiles at Emily, “It’s okay, Y/N/N. I’m honestly flattered that I’m already making a good impression and I would love to grab anything you need, Mrs. Y/L/N.” Emily’s face warms up and she hits Drew’s bicep playfully. “Please, call me Emily. We have a shelf that needs hanging if you are okay with being put to work,” her mom offers. “I would be more than glad to help out with that.”

———

Drew and Jeremy stand in front of the wall. The shorter of the two reaches up high with his hands to approximate how high they want the shelf. Y/N sits on the sofa with her mother while her brother makes dinner, watching the two men do the work. Her father tries to lift the heavy shelf they are going to put up, but he freezes and holds his hand to his lower back. Drew holds a hand out to the older man and takes the slab of wood from him. “I’ve got it, Jeremy. I see the nice woodwork you have on the other shelves. Is that what this shelf is for?” Drew questions, using the pencil to mark where he needs to put the screws. Jeremy beams and picks up one of his pieces. He shows drew the wooden duck, “Yes. I’ve been doing it since I was in high school. My best subject was wood shop. I made this duck for Y/N/N when she was little. She would refuse to take a bath unless it was beside her. If it wasn’t near the tub near bath time, then she would run around the house naked looking for it.” “Ugh, Dad! Do you have to tell that story? It’s so awkward,” Y/N complains, burying her head in a pillow. Drew chuckles and takes the duck into his hand, “What are you talking about? I think it’s an adorable story. Might have to make you another duck if it that’s how you react without one. Plus, I would love to spend more time with your dad while he teaches me.” Drew’s laughter increases as he catches the pillow that is whipped at his head.

———

Jeremy and Emily stay at the front door to wave the couple off whilst Gideon follows his sister and Drew to the car. He leans against the open car window to formally say goodbye. “Okay, so I expect a wedding invitation within a year. You got me, Starkey? You are too good for this family to let go of,” Gideon orders with a finger pointed at the male in the driver’s seat. Drew glances at Y/N with a grin before looking at Gideon, “I got you. I would be crazy to let your sister go.” Gideon slaps the car door in satisfaction. “Good. I knew I liked you for a reason. Okay, bye you two. Drive safe.” He straightens up with a wave and steps back so Drew can drive off. Y/N sinks lower into the seat at the sound of her family very loudly wishing them goodbye one more time from outside of her car. “I hated that so much. I didn’t know I had so many embarrassing childhood stories.” Drew chortles, “What are you talking about? I loved it. I think I made a great impression with my future in-laws. I can’t wait to see them again.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey oneshot #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey fic #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x you

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archangeldyke-all · 1 year ago

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So uhm ….how..how about sev with a corruption kink and .. 👉🏻👈🏻 a really really sweet girl who … gets reeled in by sev‘s magnetic personality and ends up just … u know … getting corrupted 👉🏻👈🏻

i'm completely chill and normal about this ask. (i'm lying) (i'm clawing at my walls and ripping my hair out)

men and minors dni

sevika never thought she'd be into inexperienced girls.

she didn't think she'd be patient enough for it. when sevika wants to fuck someone, she wants to fuck them. she doesn't wanna teach them how to fuck, she doesn't wanna wait to fuck, she just wants to fuck and move on.

but then she meets you.

she thinks you're the cutest fucking thing in the world.

you're sweet. you're the only person sevika knows who will always toss her a smile, even when she's scowling at everyone who comes in her line of vision. it gives her butterflies.

you're kind. when sevika's upset-- most people avoid her. you don't, though. you see right through the angry glare she wears to cover up her hurt. and you ask. you ask her if she's okay, if she wants to talk, if she'd like some company. and you actually listen to her answers.

the first few times she says no-- confused by the question and trying to figure out your angle.

but after a while she realizes you don't have an angle. you're just kind, eyes genuine as you look at her, a sympathetic little furrow between your brows. so she starts being honest. no, she's not okay, no she doesn't want to talk about it, but yes. she'd like your company.

and after the first few times of that, of the two of you just sitting in companionable silence, as you occasionally tell her a funny anecdote, doodling on a napkin beside her, she starts talking too.

you're funny. you make her laugh when she least expects it, little quiet quips only meant for her to hear that make her snort and smack her hand over her mouth in embarrassment. you've got this subtle snark that not everyone picks up on-- but sevika always notices and giggles when you're a bit sassy.

and it's all these reasons-- you're kind heart and sweet nature and sense of humor-- that sevika falls in love with you.

but it's your innocence that makes her fall in lust.

you're innocent. so, so innocent. as your friendship grows and you start opening up to sevika, she's shocked to find out that you (you, the girl she's been having wet dreams about every other night) are a virgin. that you've never even had a girlfriend-- that your last kiss was in the second grade when a slimy little boy held your favorite stuffie hostage until you pressed your lips against his.

she doesn't get it. she has a million fucking questions about it.

she finally snaps one evening, drunk and deadly curious.

"so then the guy tells me they're not sellin' chicken eggs anymore and i'm like what's wrong with chi--?"

"do you masturbate?" sevika blurts. you choke on your words.

"s-sorry!?" you ask with a laugh. sevika cringes and shrugs.

"well... do you?" she asks. you blink.

"i'm a virgin sevika, not a prude."

"so... yes?" she guesses. you laugh.

"yes." you say. something in sevika's stomach flutters. "don't you?" you ask. she nods.

"do you... think about sex when you do it?" she asks. you blink at her.

"well... yeah..." you say.

"am i making you uncomfortable?" she asks, suddenly worried. you giggle.

"i'd tell you to fuck off if you were. i just don't understand where all the questions are coming from." you say.

"i--" sevika cuts herself off. what's she supposed to say? i can't stop thinking about all the ways i could ruin you? that's what she wants to say, but she thinks that might be a bit strong. "i guess i just don't get how you haven't found someone yet."

you furrow your brow.

"well, it's not like women are fuckin' throwing themselves at me, sevika." you say.

"that's not--"

"i'm not an idiot, you know, i know what sex is. just 'cause not all of us aren't fuckin' walking sex magnets doesn't mean--"

"that's not what i meant!" sevika screeches out. her eyes are wide and panicked.

"well, what did you mean?"

"i meant that you're hot as fuck and i'm trying to figure out if you're a virgin 'cause you wanna be or if i'd have a shot at fuckin' you!"

it's quiet for a minute as you absorb sevika's words.

she massages her temples with her hand, mumbling to herself under her breath. you catch a few words. what the fuck is wrong with you? and this is why i don't drink clear liquor.

"you'd have a shot." you choke out eventually. sevika's head snaps up to look at you. "i-i mean--"

"what?" she cuts you off again. you shrug.

"if you wanted. but, you know, i can't-- we'd have to--"

"take it slow, yeah--"

"and i don't think i can do the whole casual th--"

"i'm in love with you." she says. a second passes, and then sevika's brain catches up to her. she smacks her head on the table with a groan. "what the fuck is wrong with me?"

"are you serious!?" you choke out. sevika huffs.

"yes. but i really didn't mean to say it. please pretend i didn't. or if it's too weird for you now--"

you burst into laughter.

sevika's known she wants to corrupt you, but she's vastly underestimated how much she'd get off on it.

like, she thinks she's more turned on than you are-- and you're always soaking wet around sevika.

even in the beginning, when she's trying her very best to keep it romantic and polite (kisses on your cheek every chance she can, a hand around your waist or shoulders almost always, sweet goodnight kisses at your door) the sweet way you flutter your eyelashes at her as you blink your eyes in surprise, the way you shyly smile at her-- it makes her cunt throb.

she spends every moment she can looking at you. half of the time it's in sweet admiration or amusement, the other half she's daydreaming about fucking you, her eyes wandering up and down your figure.

she lets you control the pace-- but she doesn't hesitate once you give her a go ahead.

so, after your third date --homemade pizza and a movie on sevika's couch-- when you shyly smiles up at her and ask if, maybe, she'd like to stay a little longer? she just has to scoop you up in her arms and carry you back to the couch, pressing her mouth to yours.

you were fumbling against her lips, gasping in surprise and trying to keep up with her pace-- but she intentionally kept you guessing-- absolutely adoring the gentle, inexperienced press of your mouth against hers and the little moans pleasure escaping your lips.

she won't pull away from your mouth, won't let you breathe for more than a moment before diving back in-- so you push her down to your neck, moaning when she starts nibbling and kissing the skin of your throat. she growls against you.

"fuck, can i give you a hickey?" she grunts, before returning to her gentle kisses and nips. you shudder.

"yes please." you whimper.

she groans as she bites into the flesh of your throat.

you whine.

sevika's got one hand on your jaw, one gently scratching up and down your back. you grip her arms, redirecting them so one hand can fondle your ass while the other can play with your tits.

sevika moans against your neck and bites you so hard you're certain she draws blood. she doesn't-- but it was a close thing.

(it's only years later that she shyly admits to you that she bit you so hard 'cause she was cumming in her pants.)

you become obsessed with her kisses. any moment you can, you're tugging her in for a kiss.

she loves it. loves teasing you about how needy you are. loves the way you'll pout-- she always kisses it away.

(also, she calls you needy, like she's not the one tracing circles into whatever patch of your skin she can reach and staring at your lips with a cocky smirk while you talk.)

you start losing track of your dates with sevika. you guys were already close friends-- seeing each other multiple times a week-- and now that you're in a relationship (which sevika loves reminding you of because she loves the half embarrassed half proud little smile it gets out of you) but now you're spending most of your free time together.

sometimes you go out, sometimes you stay in, sometimes you just go buy groceries together or meet at each other's apartments to take a nap.

but all that being said, it's about one month into your relationship when sevika first sees you naked.

you've seen sevika naked plenty of times before. she's not shy about her body, and she loves the way your eyes get all wide and glossy, the way your lips part, and your thighs clench when she's, 'just airdrying babe, it's better for your skin or something,' after her shower for thirty minutes.

so it's really satisfying when the roles are finally reversed, and sevika's left speechless as you straddle her lap, still clothed in her boxers.

it's satisfying until sevika's eyebrows furrow and she bites her lip.

your stomach drops.

you're just like anybody else-- you have your fair share of insecurities about your body. and this is the first time anyone besides your doctor or yourself has seen you naked. you give it a second, but when she doesn't move or speak, you start to panic.

"sevika?" you squeak out. her eyes snap up to look at you. she gulps.

"fuck." she gasps.

"uhh...?"

"i'm gonna say it again, shit!" she bites her lip.

"say wha--"

"i'minlovewithyou." she says all at once. you freeze. "you're so beautiful fuck i- i wanna tear you apart but-- fuck, no-- i mean i do but-- i'm in love with you. i wanna-- you've fuckin' ruined me! and now i wanna ruin you, you know?" she babbles. you giggle.

"i knew you had a kink for the whole virgin thing!" you say, pointing an accusing finger at her.

sevika clams up, her shoulders coming up to her ears and her face cringing. "i--"

you kiss her to silence her. she slowly relaxes, her hands coming up to grip your hips.

she guides your hips down, slowly grinding your wet pussy in circles against her thigh.

you pull away with a gasp, looking down at sevika's pretty blushing face, and you giggle. "i think it's cute, baby." you whisper against her lips. she huffs.

"it's not about the vi-virgin thing. it's about you. fuck. you're so good. and i wanna make you feel so good. and it's s-s-so fuckin' hot that you let me. and i-i..."

"you love me?" you guess. she nods.

you laugh, then press a gentle, sincere kiss to her lips.

"i love you too, sevika." you whisper.

she cums, her arms wrapping around, digging her fingers into your back and tugging you to her chest. "b-baby, shit!" she gasps against your throat. you giggle, and press kisses against her head as she shakes beneath you.

you're so horny afterwards that you beg her to make you cum. she flips you onto the bed, hovering over you, pressing kisses to your face, your breasts, your stomach.

"anything, baby, you want my mouth or--?"

"mouth!" you squeak. she chuckles.

"perfect fuckin' choice." she praises, before ripping your legs apart and pinning them to the bed.

she hovers above your pussy, her mouth six inches away from you, the hot puffs of her breath making your cunt clench.

"sevika--"

"just a second." she whispers, eyes glued to your cunt. you whine and shift your hips.

"sevika!"

"fuckin' hold on a second, baby, i'm tyrin' to take a mental pictu--mpph!" you pres her face down against your cunt, cutting her off.

she tries to glare up at you, but the second she gets a taste of you, her eyes are rolling in the back of her head and she moaning louder than you are.

she doesn't let go of her grip on your thighs-- she keeps you pinned as she alternates between sucking your clit and ducking down to lap at your leaking entrance, occasionally pushing against it and slipping the tip of her tongue in.

you're squealing, scrabbling at her hair and twitching in her hold-- stuttering out half words that get cut off by moans.

she chuckles against you and pulls away, her mouth and chin covered in spit and arousal, a grin on her lips. one of her hands trails up your thigh for her thumb to begin rubbing circles on your clit.

"tell me how you masturbate." she demands. you shiver.

"fuck--"

"do you use fingers? or do you just play with this pretty clit?" she purrs. you gasp.

"i-i-- both i guess?"

"mmm. how many fingers?"

"one m-maybe two if i'm really--"

"do you want one of mine?" she asks. you groan and nod, tugging on her scalp.

"please please please please--"

"fuck, but you're so tight, honey. you know i got big fingers. you think you can take it?" she asks, her lips brushing against your clit as her thumb travels down to trace your labia.

"for fuck's sake sevika--" you start. she giggles below you before shooting up, her hand still pressed against her cunt, but her lips now smashed against yours.

she pecks little kisses on your lips as she runs her pointer finger through your folds, gathering your dripping arousal and her spit, and then she thrusts her tongue into your mouth just as she eases her finger into you.

you moan. she really does have big fingers, and a much better angle than you're ever able to reach. she chuckles against your lips.

"you okay?" she asks as she slowly eases her finger back out. you nod against her.

you're sensitive-- it's so foreign feeling someone else inside you, so pleasurable, but so strange-- it doesn't take much for you to start shaking and clenching around her finger. she keeps a slow, steady pace, and you gasp. "oh fuck-- i'm gonna!"

sevika whimpers against you, ducking down to press a kiss to your nipple before squatting between your legs and sucking your clit into her mouth.

you both cum. sevika cums at the way your tight cunt clenches around her finger, and you cum and from gentle circles she's rubbing into your g-spot.

she's obsessed with fingering you.

anywhere, anytime, sevika will snatch your wrist and drag you into the nearest empty room, before shoving her hand down your pants and massaging your cunt, sinking one or two fingers inside when you're wet enough.

"s-s-sorry baby," she whimpers against you as you claw at her biceps, muffling your moans into her shoulder. "i'll make it fast-- you just look way too fuckin' good tonight." she grunts as she sinks a finger into your cunt.

she fucks you slow and gentle against the bathroom stall, both of you giggling when someone rattles the locked door.

"shhhit you feel so good, honey." she grunts. she's always all needy and whiny right up until you cum. then: she just lets her mouth run, saying all the nasty things she's thinking out loud to you.

you clench around her finger, clawing at her shoulder. "shit baby, i'm gonna--"

"fuck, baby i love this pussy. so fuckin' tight for me an' 's all mine. god i can't wait 'til you can take my cock. stuff you nice and full, stretch you out, get you squirtin' on my dick--"

you come with a loud moan.

(outside the bathroom, you hear a scandalized gasp. you both laugh as you quickly straighten up, sevika tucking you under her arm and sneaking you out of the cafe.)

it takes a while for you to get used to her big fingers but with how often she's touching you, it's not too long before you can comfortably take two, then three.

she takes it as slow as she can the first time she fucks you with the strap. she picks out her smallest, keeps the lube on the bed, tucks a pillow under your hips.

it still stings. not enough that you don't want it, not enough to outweigh the pleasure of sevika's thumb on your clit, but still enough for you to bite your lip and whimper, clawing at her abs as she inches inside of you.

"fuck, 's big!" you whimper.

sevika cums. obviously.

she tries to keep her hips steady, but the second the words leave your mouth she's thrusting the two or three remaining inches of her strap inside of you and collapsing on top of you.

the whines and whimpers you let out below her only make her cum harder.

the moment she catches her breath, she starts grinding small, apologetic circles against you where her cock is still buried to the hilt inside you.

"shit, shit, shit, take my cock baby, just like that. fuck." she whispers. you shudder beneath her, and she starts rocking her hips a little harder. "does it feel good, honey? do you like my dick?" she asks. you claw your nails into her back.

"sevika, sevika, shit, feels so good, fuck you're so deep--"

"i love you." she says, pulling away to gaze down at your body, fucking into you with fast little strokes. "look how well your tight little cunt is takin' me. 's so pretty, droolin' all over me. you've just been waitin' for the right cock, huh, baby? knew nobody'd be able to fuck you 's good as me, right?"

you're too busy moaning to answer any of her questions, but she doesn't seem to mind. she can tell by the way you're twitching beneath her that you're close.

"gonna cum?" she asks. you nod. "good girl." she grunts.

that's all it takes for you to cum, gasping and pulling sevika against your body as you shiver and moan through the most intense orgasm of your life.

sevika holds you through it, kissing your face and praising you gently. "so fuckin' good baby."

when you catch your breath and open your eyes again, you look up directly into the face of a cockily smirking sevika. you chuckle.

"pleased with yourself?"

"very." sevika says, grinning.

"'m not a virgin anymore. 's your mission accomplished?" you tease.

she bites her lip and looks down at you.

"i got a couple new missions in mind." she whispers. you laugh.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

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