#i just really wish i was as good as i used to be | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

osarina · 2 days ago

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ᡣ𐭩 I WISH I WAS YOUR GIRL

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: you don't know why dazai has suddenly become so standoffish with you the last week—there's something that everyone isn't telling you, but you can't even bring yourself to make that your biggest concern. you're just so at your limits with the back and forth with him that you can't concentrate on anything else. mishima is hosting a ball is this evening and you think that this is it: if things are going to happen between the two of you, it'll be tonight or it'll be never. you can't wait forever on someone who's just going to string you along the rest of his life. you won't.

(wordcount: 6.3k; fem!reader, sfw but a bit of tension, angsty)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: hihihihiiiiiii guys ^.^ happy friday. we've gotta angsty fic for tonight. i fear this one does not end happily but TRUST the universe does <33 but angst is necessary to move the plot forward. the price you pay for a happy ending is an angsty path there. specially dedicated to my beloved sophie who hates angst <33 happy birthday luvr

You are severely unhappy.

You finished getting dressed almost an hour ago, but you still haven’t left your room. You’re sitting at your vanity staring at yourself—you’ve changed your jewelry three times already, and you’re about to change it a fourth. It’s not that you’re not satisfied with how you look, it’s more that you’re just frustrated and fidgety.

More than that, you’re upset. Dazai hasn’t spoken to you in a week, and you don’t even know why. It has something to do with the incident that happened a week ago with the child called Kyusaku, but you’re not sure what because you don’t know what was real and what was concocted by the child’s ability after you were affected by it.

As much as Dazai likes to pretend to be aloof and unbothered, he’s easily worked up by small things, and he’s been upset with you before, but never like this. He’ll usually sulk where he knows you’ll see him and wait for you to ask him what’s wrong so he can use the opportunity to guilt you into watching a shitty movie or going out to buy him snacks.

But this? Radio silence. He came up to your apartment once when you weren’t here to do his laundry and was gone before you got back. You don’t even know where he’s been staying, because you went looking for him at the shipping container and he wasn’t there. You don’t know what happened. You guys were good, more than good—you really thought that maybe the two of you were making progress past this awkward more than friends, not lovers stage, but now it’s back to square one. Worse than square one, because at least at square one, he was still talking to you.

A low whistle comes from the entrance to your room and you raise your eyebrows as you look up in the mirror, catching sight of Chuuya leaning against the doorframe, head tilted to the side as he observes you. He’s already dressed up—out of his normal outfit and in a sleek black suit instead, he looks different without his hat, but you don’t even have it in you to make a teasing comment about it. You can’t help the disappointment that clogs your throat at the sight of him: you’d still been holding out hope that Dazai would show up.

“I forgot how nice you cleaned up,” Chuuya murmurs. “It’s been a minute since we attended an event together.”

You turn in your seat to face him, eyes roving over his form once before you say, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without your hat. I almost thought you might be balding beneath it.”

Chuuya instantly rolls his eyes as he pushes himself off the door frame to make his way over to you. You give him a simpering smile as you look up at him, but you can tell it doesn’t reach your eyes from the way he frowns at you. He reaches out to straighten the necklace you’re wearing and then holds a gloved hand out to help you up, ever the gentlemen.

Even though it’s unnecessary, you still take it and sigh as you rise to your feet, smoothing out your dress once you’re upright. You look up at him and ask, “I take it you’re the one escorting me tonight.”

“Don’t sound too pleased,” Chuuya replies dryly, holding out his arm for you. You sigh as you hold his bicep loosely, making your way to the elevator. “He still hasn’t talked to you?”

“Not once,” you answer bitterly. “I thought for sure he would get over whatever his problem is to be my escort tonight, but I guess not. I don’t even know what happened, Chuuya. I feel like people just aren’t telling me something.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, your gaze is cutting to the side to observe Chuuya’s reaction. He grimaces instantly and averts his gaze, and you take in a deep breath, realizing you hit it right on the nail. What the hell are they hiding from you? You know now isn’t the time to get into it, but you make a note in the back of your head to do some snooping as to what really happened during the incident last week.

“Interesting,” you say, just to let Chuuya know that he needs to work on his poker face. He catches the implication and sends you a scowl, but you only raise your eyebrows at him with a small smile, waiting for the elevator to come up to your apartment. “He’s not coming tonight at all then?”

“No, he’s coming,” Chuuya corrects absently and the smile on your face freezes.

“Is that so?” you ask tightly. “Who is he attending with then?”

Chuuya gives you a long, knowing look as the elevator gets to your floor, holding it open and waiting for you to step in before joining you. You’re tense as you wait for his answer, and you know he’s getting back for the balding comment with how long he’s taking to give you it.

“No one,” he finally says, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Chuuya barks out a laugh. “Jesus, you’re so embarrassing—get yourself together. Who the fuck would actually be his date? No one wants to get within ten feet of him.”

You give Chuuya a withering look and then reply primly, “I would.”

“The entire Mafia knows that,” Chuuya says dryly, making your face hot. “You make me sick.”

“Likewise,” you scoff and pointedly look away from him. After a few seconds pass, you ask, “Are you sure he’s not bringing anyone?”

Chuuya groans. “What would it even change if he does?” he asks, which does not settle your nerves at all. “You’re just going to work yourself up thinking about it.”

“It changes whether or not I’m going to have Akutagawa Ryuunosuke on standby to eliminate a potential threat to Dazai’s life,” you say with a sweet smile. “Assassins come in many forms, but most frequently in dates at big events. We shouldn’t take that risk with our most valuable executive, naturally.”

Chuuya’s jaw drops as he fully turns to look at you. “Sometimes, I wonder why you like that fucked up bastard so much, and it’s only very rarely that I’m reminded that you’re just as evil as he is.”

“I’m kidding,” you complain, waving him off. Although, now that the thought is in your head, it’s becoming increasingly more appealing. “I think.”

The elevator doors slide back open and Chuuya holds his arm out for you again. You take it, lifting your hand to wave at Hinata, an older man who's been working with the Port Mafia since longer than you’ve been alive. He ran with Hirotsu in the Black Lizards before he was hurt on a mission and put on desk duty—you stole him from Mori when you came back from Kyoto. On paper, he’s just your doorman, but he’s helped you a lot with mission planning the past year and a half; you honestly contribute half of your success to his experience.

“Good luck tonight, hime, Nakahara-san,” Hinata says as the two of you make your way out of the building.

You let out an exaggerated sigh and toss your head to the side to look back at him with a smile. “Hinata-san, you should come and be my date instead of this bum.”

“Why am I always catching strays from you?” Chuuya scowls, but you ignore him as you flutter your eyelashes at Hinata, who only laughs at you.

“I’m far too old for that to work on me, hime,” Hinata replies. “I’ll have the scout reports from Sapporo ready by the time you get back tonight.”

“My hero,” you sing. “Thank you.”

You wave at him one last time before leaving the building with Chuuya. As soon as you’re out of sight, your smile drops and Chuuya gives you a concerned look, stopping before the two of you can get in the car so he can turn to look at you head on.

“Do you think he’ll show up with someone to spite me?” you ask quietly.

You know Dazai—he doesn’t like feeling wounded, so when he does, he lashes out tenfold. He gets cruel and vicious, and because he’s Dazai, he knows exactly what to do to make people hurt more than he does. You don’t know what you did to upset him, but it has you on edge now because it will hurt if he shows up with someone else, knowing that you were waiting for him back at your apartment.

Chuuya says your name quietly, and because it’s not an immediate ‘no’, you know that he knows that Dazai might very well stoop that low to hurt you. You swallow thickly and look away—it’s fine. You’ll act unbothered, you have an appearance to keep up and that’s more important than anything. And anyway, it’ll hurt him even more when he doesn’t get the reaction he wants from you.

“Hey, look,” Chuuya says, forcing your attention back on him. “Dazai’s being a fucking dick, alright? But what else is new? You look beautiful—make him regret that you’re not coming in on his arm, yeah?”

You smile softly and look away before saying, “It’s unnerving when you’re sweet.”

You don’t have to look at Chuuya to know he’s rolling his eyes at you. You hear him open the car door for you and sigh as you look back over to him.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s go.”

———

As always, your entrance is something to marvel over. It never fails to be the highlight of the night, and it’s only more of a spectacle when you enter on the arm of Nakahara Chuuya.

Lingering looks in your direction, wary stares in his—you’re grateful that he came to escort you, because if you’d come alone, you would’ve swarmed with suitors as soon as you got down the steps. Chuuya is not quite as much of a deterrent as Dazai would’ve been, if only because Chuuya won’t actually kill someone in the middle of Mishima’s ball and nobody can ever be sure of what Dazai is capable of, but his presence and reputation will keep unwanted annoyances away for most of the night at least.

By the end of the night, they’ll get more desperate for a conversation, and only Dazai and Mori himself are capable of keeping them away from you at that point, unless Chuuya steps up his game, of course, but he has as much of an appearance to keep up as you do. You’re not looking forward to it—your eyes keep darting up to the ticking clock, knowing each passing second draws closer to suffering.

You didn’t even want to come tonight. You weren’t going to come, you’d gone to quite the lengths trying to fake being sick, and you thought you succeeded until Mori messaged you this morning telling you that you could either come to the event or go deal with Shikibu Murasaki’s little stunt in Sapporo that has your biggest weapon supplier backing out on your next shipment. Since he knew very well you didn’t want to deal with that, the only option was to come to the ball—someone must’ve ratted you out to him, but you don’t know who. You almost think it must’ve been Chuuya, because Dazai hasn’t spoken to you in over a week.

You still haven’t seen him, which you suppose is a good thing because if he was going to shove in your face that he came here with someone else, then he would’ve done it by now. You aren’t even sure if he’s here; you’ve tried to keep an eye out for him, positioning yourself in a way that your gaze can always stray to the edges of the room in hopes of catching sight of him, but you haven’t seen him at all in the three hours that you’ve been here.

You’re standing with Chuuya and two of Mishima’s daughters now. Noriko keeps trying to shift closer to you, lashes fluttering and lips curled up into a soft smile. Usually, you would entertain the girl—she’s pretty, and at the very least, makes for entertaining conversation, which is more than you can say for the rest of the Sun and Steel upper echelon, but you’re so occupied with Dazai that she can hardly hold your attention for more than a few seconds.

“I haven’t seen him at all tonight,” you say quietly when Mishima himself comes over to your small group, a stern expression on his face as he beckons his daughters over before giving both you and Chuuya an apologetic look. “Have you?”

“No,” Chuuya says, taking a sip of his champagne as he leans against the wall. “I know he said he was coming though.”

Your expression twists in annoyance as you take in a deep breath. Your glass is empty, and usually, there are people circling to keep them full—your old mentor always used to warn you not to fall for the trap. The hosts of events always like to liquor up the attendees; drunker you are, the looser your lips, and you’re usually quite careful to keep it to one drink and never finish your second.

Tonight, you are on your fifth. Dangerous work, because you’re still going to have to entertain people when they inevitably start coming up to you—which is any minute now, you can feel the lingering stares and you can see how people are creeping closer. But you’re just so bothered by everything with Dazai that every time you finish a glass, you’re seeking out the next to try to numb your nerves.

“You know something,” you accuse quietly, giving Chuuya a cold side-eye. He stiffens, but neither confirms nor denies, which is a confirmation in itself. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“I can’t,” Chuuya says tightly, and you raise your eyebrows because you expected him to say ‘it’s not for me to say’ like he usually does when he feels like you should hear something from someone else. He can’t, does that mean… “I just…”

“You can’t because you’ve been ordered not to,” you realize, face shifting in confusion. “Mori ordered you not to. What happened during the incident last week, Chuuya?”

The expression that crosses Chuuya’s face is haunted, and it makes your mouth dry, because what the hell happened and why is no one telling you the truth? You don’t even get the chance to badger him about it, because Noriko and Michiko are coming back over, both of them looking incredibly displeased by whatever their father said.

“He’s so annoying,” Noriko complains, immediately clinging to your arm and resting her head against your bicep dramatically. “You two are so lucky that you don’t have parents to helicopter you like he does.”

You and Chuuya immediately exchange a look at her words, and even Michiko cringes a little, but you otherwise don’t react beyond just trying to not roll your eyes. These girls are so out of touch with reality that it’s almost concerning, but they, more than anyone else at this event, have loose lips that you like to take advantage of.

“No,” you sigh lightly, “I only have Mori. Somehow, I feel that’s worse.”

Noriko giggles like you’ve said the funniest thing in the world, and you miss Dazai desperately. At least him being here would have Mishima’s daughters acting a little more subdued, would maybe even chase them off. You don’t like how they act around him because you know it used to bother him, but you’re not gonna complain when you could be benefiting from it if he wasn’t being an ass.

She starts to say something else, but before she can, Chuuya’s eyes shoot open as he looks at something behind you. You instantly straighten, turning your head to follow his gaze and your breath catches when it lands on just who you thought would draw that reaction from Chuuya.

Dazai.

He’s finally made his appearance, and you can’t draw your eyes away from him. He never gets dressed up for these events like you and Chuuya do, so he’s still wearing that same black three-piece suit he wears every day, just without the dark trench coat he usually wears over it. He’s leaning against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest and a cold expression on his face as he stares in your direction. He doesn’t meet your gaze, but he does stare at where Noriko is clinging to your arm, lip twitching in irritation; Noriko seems to notice too from the way she lets go of your arm and tries to casually shift away from you, an annoyed look on her face as she does.

You hear her let out a noise of disgust, side-eyeing in Dazai’s direction, and you raise your eyebrows at her pointedly. You know that it was directed toward Dazai’s sudden appearance, but you’re not about to sit here and let that slide, so you turn a cool look onto her in response. Noriko instantly looks down to the ground, an ashamed look crossing her face—not for the disparaging attitude toward Dazai, but for being obvious enough for you to notice it.

You feel a bit more tense now as you force your attention off of Dazai back to Chuuya, who exchanges a short look with you before pointedly glancing over to where one of Mishima’s newer executives, Ibuse Masuji is whispering with one of his colleagues, looking in your direction a bit too frequently for comfort. He’s going to come over and ask you for a dance soon, probably around the same time Michiko starts tugging Chuuya in the direction of the hardwood floor at the center of the room—Noriko won’t ask you now that Dazai is here.

Wonderful, you think to yourself bitterly. You don’t really want to deal with Ibuse tonight, but you suppose you’ll probably get better information from him than Noriko. Noriko likes to ramble about more general gossip—who’s sleeping with who, who’s mad at who, and all of that is useful to an extent when you need to figure out what’s going on with Sun and Steel internal politics, but Ibuse has loose lips about more meaningful matters, and you’ve heard some nerve-wracking rumors about the Red Chamber recently.

The things you do for the Port Mafia.

You straighten your necklace, gaze lifting to Chuuya again as you withhold a sigh. You can see Ibuse starting to make his way across the event hall in your direction, and Chuuya gives you a pitying smile that instantly freezes as his eyes pin to something behind you again. You also freeze, because you know it could only mean one thing.

Dazai is coming over.

You raise your eyebrows at him pointedly, wanting to know whether or not Dazai’s approach is a good or bad one—if he’s coming over to finally address you, or if he��s coming over so he can more blatantly ignore you. Each one is equally possible, and the way Chuuya grimaces and shrugs only makes your anxiety spike more.

But you get your answer as soon as he arrives.

You inhale sharply when you feel Dazai’s fingers brush over your hip as he comes to stand directly behind you. You can feel his chest brushing your back, his presence warm and looming directly behind you. With his sudden arrival, the conversation happening between Noriko and Michiko comes to an abrupt halt, and you can see Ibuse freeze mid-step from where he was drawing closer to you. The two girls avert their gaze to the ground, not acknowledging Dazai, and it irritates you, they’ve never hidden how unnerved Dazai makes them, and though you don’t think it bothers him anymore, you know very well it used to.

Your throat spasms when Dazai’s hand settles more firmly on your hip, and you turn your head slightly to the side to look up at him, breath catching when you find that his gaze is already lidded and focused on you, visible eye far too dark and tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Dance with me,” Dazai murmurs, only for you to hear.

“You want to dance?” you ask, a bit incredulously, trying not to be hyper-focused on how he’s touching you. You don’t know what has gotten into him, but it has your heart racing. “Dazai, what-”

“Dance with me.”

It’s not a request, you realize, taking in a sharp breath as his gaze becomes more intense. You can feel curious eyes on you from around the room; it’s to be expected, it’s you and Dazai. Of everyone here, the two of you always have the most eyes on you at all times, but it’s different now.

Dazai usually keeps to himself during events, he wanders up and down the length of the room, keeping to the edges to observe what’s happening unless he’s looking for information from someone. He really stays true to his moniker, a black wraith haunting the shadows and keeping everyone on edge. You can’t remember the last time he willingly stepped out of them to interact with people, much less engage in things like dancing.

“Okay,” you agree quietly, not even bothering to look back at your previous companions as Dazai’s hand slides from your hip to your lower back, guiding you to the hardwood floor where several other couples are already swaying along to the music being played by the quintet in the corner of the room. “What’s gotten into you?”

Dazai doesn’t answer your question, looking down at you from the corner of his eye for a moment before looking back ahead. He doesn’t have to search for a spot on the dance floor—as soon as people realize that’s where he’s headed, they’re quick to leave a wide berth for the two of you, no one wanting to get too close to the most infamous Port Mafia executive.

Your heart races as he leads you to the center of the hardwood floor. Though you can feel dozens of eyes pinned on the two of you, all you can focus on is him. You can hardly breathe when he turns to face you, one hand resting on your hip while he holds the other out for you to take. You swallow thickly as you place your hand into his. He entwines your fingers with his instead of the traditional palm-to-palm, and he pulls you toward him so that your chests are brushing. You’re so close to him that you catch the faint and familiar scent of smoke and iron and it makes you dizzy.

Distantly, you know that this probably isn’t smart. If people think that you and Dazai are together, it will only be harder for you to get information from them. They’ll be wary around you in fear of him, and you’re not even sure if your ability will be enough to counteract the anxiety he triggers in people. You shouldn’t be risking that just for a dance, but…

But you can never think straight when he’s around, even less when his skin is warm against yours, and the way he’s looking at you… His dark eye is heavy with so many emotions, too many for you to even place a single one—you’ve always been good at reading people, but never him, and now, more than ever, you wish you could. You want to know what he’s thinking. You want to know what he’s feeling. You want to know him, because as much as you claim you do, you know that he masks himself from you. You want to ask him again—what’s gotten into you? Why have you been avoiding me? But you think it’ll scare him off, so instead, you ask:

“When did you learn to dance? Today?”

He’s better than you thought he would be. He effortlessly spins you across the dancefloor. Each step is quick and precise—you’ve had training in this type of dancing, but you still struggle a little to keep up with him. Though, you think it’s less because of your own skill, and more because of who exactly your partner is.

“What makes you think I haven’t known how?” Dazai drawls, voice low and languid, dark eye glittering with amusement. His grip on your hand tightens just a little as he pulls you into a half-spin. He presses when you don’t immediately respond, “Hm?”

“Because you’re you,” you finally answer with a fleeting smile. “So? When did you learn?”

“Tonight,” he tells you. “I’ve been watching them.”

“Hah,” you say—of course he’s this good just through observation. Ever the mirror. “You better not embarrass me.”

“Like this?” he asks with a smile that puts you on edge, and you give him a dirty look when he purposely takes a wrong step, forcing you to overstep in order to not land on his foot. You’re careful to make it look casual—a wider turn rather than a misstep—but with the number of eyes currently on the two of you, you know very well that people probably caught it. His apology comes in the form of an airy, “Whoops,” that you know he doesn’t mean.

His lips curl up into a smug smile, and your breath catches when you feel his hand slide from your hip to your low back so he can pull your body flush to his for the next turn. Your throat spasms as you tilt your head back to look up at him, and again, there’s that unreadable look in his eye as his eyes rove over your face.

“Why?” you finally brave yourself to ask, voice quiet and too breathy for your liking. You don’t specify what the why is, and that’s intentional, this way he can pick what he wants to answer and won’t feel as cornered by the question.

His visible eye narrows for a moment, and then something akin to reluctance spreads across his face, and then resignation. You wonder if he’ll answer, hardly even able to breathe as you wait for him to speak. But after a few tense moments, disappointment hits you hard, because a teasing smile spreads across his lips and you know he’s going to evade the question.

Still, your heart races when Dazai dips you down, lowering his face so that his lips brush your ear as he says, “You looked like you were bracing yourself for a bullet with Ibuse getting ready to come over. Figured I’d rescue you.”

Though the music continues, Dazai doesn’t lift you from the dip. He does pull his face back so that he can look you in the eye. He’s so close to you that you can feel his warm breath fanning across your lips and it leaves you dizzy. The look in his eye now—you almost want to dare to believe you know what it is—it’s too close to the same emotion you feel whenever the two of you are curled up on the couch watching a movie. It’s too similar to longing, yearning, the desperate need for more, the desire to be yours just as badly as you want to be his, but you don’t want to get your hopes up when you know he can crush them in an instant.

His gaze drops down to your lips and then drags back up to your face, and you know he won’t kiss you, not in front of all of the eyes currently pinned on the two of you. Not in front of Mori. It’s nice to imagine though.

“Is that really why?” you breathe out, eyes searching his for an answer.

Something new crosses his face—it’s sharp and it’s angry, something that promises violence, not toward you, but toward the one who provoked it. His gaze cuts to the side briefly in the direction of where Ibuse Masuji is still standing frozen in the middle of the event hall, staring at the two of you, and then he looks back down at you, lips tilted up into a wry smile.

“Partially,” he says, but doesn’t give you the chance to question any further, finally pulling you up from the dip to fall in line with the last steps of the dance.

He turns you so that your back is pressed to his chest, palm cupping the back of your hand, fingers interlaced. His free hand slides around to your abdomen, holding your body flush to his. The music slows as the song comes to an end, but Dazai doesn’t release you. You turn your head to the side and tilt your head back to look up at him, inhaling when you find that he’s already looking at you, dark hair hanging in his lidded eye as he watches you.

“Are you… coming home tonight?” you finally ask, voice soft and hesitant.

“I’ll think about it,” he says, but his eye is glittering playfully, so you know that he’ll be home waiting for you by the time you get done at the event. He always manages to leave early—no one has the nerve to try to stop him. He dips his head a bit lower, lips ghosting your ear as he says, “You should thank me, you won’t have to worry about anyone else bothering you tonight.”

He finally lets go of you, your arms fall limp to your side and your breath is a bit too shaky for comfort. He tosses a wink in your direction before shoving his hands in his pockets and making his way back toward the outskirts of the room.

And he’s right—for the rest of the night, not a single person dared to approach you.

———

Even though you’re fairly certain Dazai will be there waiting for you, you still hold your breath as the elevator doors slide open to your apartment. Your feet are aching, you hardly got a chance to sit once during the night and you’re ready to curl up on the couch and watch a movie.

As you step into your apartment, you can’t help the way your heart drops when you don’t immediately see him, and you especially can’t help the relief that spreads through you when you realize he’s lounging on the couch, out of sight from the angle you entered at. At once, you can breathe again—you’ve missed him the past week, more than you ever could’ve imagined.

“Hi,” you say quietly, coming to stand at the foot of the couch.

Dazai shed his black waistcoat, his shirt is untucked and his tie is loose around his neck, head resting on the far armrest as he looks up at you with a lazy grin that lights your nerves on fire.

“Hi,” he echoes. “I picked a movie.”

“A good one I hope,” you tell him with a small smile. “Let me go get changed.”

You turn on your heel to make your way up the steps to your bedroom, but before you can get to the staircase, Dazai speaks up again, “Can you even reach the clip?”

You hesitate as you glance at him over your shoulder. You technically can, but… “No,” you reply, and then lie, “Chuuya helped me get it on.”

Dazai’s lips flatten, but he does push himself to his feet to follow you up the stairs. You spare a glance behind you, catching the hard expression on his face as he stares at your back. You raise your eyebrows at him and it instantly washes away, replaced with a teasing smile as he raises his right back at you. You squint at him, but shake your head as you reach the top of the stairs, stepping into your room.

When Dazai steps in after you, you swear the temperature in the room rises.

You turn to look at him, and he tilts his head to the side idly, dark eye dancing with amusement as he slowly approaches you. He looks a mess with how his shirt is untucked and his tie is loosely hanging around his neck, hair tousled from laying back on the couch—he looks a mess, and you’ve never wanted him more.

You’re sick of the back and forth with him—it’s been a year and a half of it and you’re tired—you want to be his, you want him to be yours. Every time you think Dazai might finally make the first move, he ends up taking fifty steps backward for whatever reason. You don’t want to push it because you have a feeling it will only make him even more standoffish. Tonight has been more progress than you’ve made in a while—if you and him are going to happen, it’ll be now or it’ll never happen. Your pride won’t allow you to chase and pine for any longer.

He comes to stand directly in front of you and you think he wants you to turn around, but just when you’re about to, he gives you a sharp smile that instantly has you on edge, and then he lowers himself to his knees in front of you. Your lips part in shock, heart beat stuttering in your chest.

“We should get these off first, right?” he hums, reaching down for the clasp of your heel, knowing damn well the effect he’s having on you from the smug expression on his face. Although you can’t help but notice that his eye is darker than usual, pupil blown wide as he undos the clasp and slides your heel off.

“Right,” you agree breathily, lashes fluttering when you feel the pads of his fingers press against your ankle as he places your foot back down on the ground before shifting to do the same for the other one.

This time, his throat bobs nervously and his fingers fumble over the clasp. When he finally gets the clasp off, he looks up at you through his lashes as he slides your heel off, but he doesn’t rise to his feet right away once he sets your foot down. Your fingers twitch at your side to reach out and brush them against his face, but you refrain, if only barely.

After what feels like an eternity, Dazai finally rises to his feet, and he’s standing all too close to you. You can feel the heat of his body, you have to tilt your head up to look at him and when you do, you can feel his breath against your lips.

“Turn,” he murmurs.

You swallow thickly as you do as he asks, and your breath audibly catches when you feel his fingers brush the nape of your neck as he shifts your hair out of the way. You expect him to tease you, but you realize his breathing is almost as unsteady as yours is, you can feel each puff against the back of your neck and it has your hair on end. Your lashes flutter as Dazai slowly unzips your dress, the cool air of your room stark in contrast to the line of fire left behind with each brush of his fingers against your spine.

When he gets the zipper all the way down, he doesn’t move away, hands settling on your hips as he hovers behind you. You think your heart might race right out of your chest, head foggy and unsteady on your feet.

For a few long moments, neither of you speak.

And then, you make a terrible mistake.

“Why have you been avoiding me the past week?” you ask quietly, desperate for some sort of answer as to what happened between the two of you that made him go cold on you like this. His grip on your hips tightens, and you instantly want to eat your words. “Dazai?”

He doesn’t even deign you with a response.

Your heart is lodged in your throat when you feel his hands drop from your hips and his presence leaving from behind you. You’re cold, your body is, your heart is, and now you really are unsteady without his hands to ground you. You whip around to face him, knees wobbly as you call after him again, but you don’t chase after him—not this time. Bitterly, you think you’ve spent the last year and a half chasing after him and all you ever get in return is him running away.

You watch him disappear down the steps, frozen in place because how did one question ruin everything. For the first time in weeks, you thought you were actually making progress with him and just like that, it’s back to square one. You feel like you don’t breathe until you hear the elevator arrive on your floor, signalling that he’s left.

“Shit,” you breathe out shakily, sitting back on your bed and burying your face in your hands. You can feel all of the champagne you drank earlier in the night threatening to come up and your head feels light. You fumble for your phone, clicking on a familiar contact and gasping his name as soon as he answers the call, “Chuuya?”

“Yo,” you hear him ask, concerned. “You good? Aren’t you with-”

“Can you come over?” you push out before he has the chance to say his name. “I just-I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep waiting. I can’t-”

“I’m coming,” Chuuya tells you when your words cut out into a sob. God, you can’t remember the last time you cried like this. Your whole body aches as you pull your knees to your chest and rock yourself back and forth trying to calm yourself down. “I’ll be there in five. I’m coming.”

You told yourself before that it was tonight or never, and you’re done waiting for him. No matter how badly it hurts to force yourself to move on—you’re done.

You have to be, for your own sake.

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

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hwaslayer · 2 days ago

Text

wildfire (cs) | fourteen.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 5.5k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, mostly focused on namjoon again in his stressed with no rest era, oc tells her friends about everything, jiung x oc fighting, crying :(, oc has a pretty good talk with namjoon, things are just shifting/changing

—a/n: the next fic coming up after wildfire has been posted here! also if you haven't taken my poll, pls do so! hehe <33 i appreciate u

You lay back against the arm of the couch with your blanket sprawled on top, typing away the last bits of info into your presentation. You're a slide away from creating your acknowledgements slide and wrapping up the entire rotation update. You had gotten an email from both San and Namjoon stating that your rotation in San's lab was ending due to a change in your timeline and that you needed to present your rotation update to the both of them, along with the dean, in the following week. It scared you at first— and it still does now— but it's starting to make more sense as to why San did what he did. Namjoon sent you a side email asking if you could meet today because he wanted to discuss what was going on. He kept it vague. Short.

Maybe he was holding off until the meeting.

It's obvious who started all of this. It's not hard to tell.

But, you agreed to meet after TAing for Yunho— letting Namjoon know you'd be there as soon as class was over. He agreed to the time and sent you a reassuring message towards the end, telling you all would be well and that he'd help you figure things out no matter what.

It was reassuring, but it doesn't mean you weren't scared.

Anxious.

Nervous.

Doesn't mean any if this it hurt any less. Doesn't mean you weren't angry, upset, sad. You still needed to feel it out, especially being alone and going through this without anyone else to talk to about it.

You had Eunchae, Jurin and Felix. But, you wished you had Jiung to talk to. You wished you didn't feel hurt about him, too.

—FLASHBACK

"So, you two are seeing each other?" Jurin asks while she sits in front of you and holds onto your knee to give it a gentle rub. Eunchae sits next to you with her arm over your shoulder, also giving you a gentle caress, squeeze. Felix sits next to Jurin and he's got a look of concern, but sadness. You had finally opened up about everything between you and San; from how things started, the conferences, staying at his house, being with him—

To not.

Jiung keeps himself posted near your window because he doesn't really wanna hear more about it but he needs to— to understand the full story. Part of him also feels guilty for what he did hearing your cries and how awfully torn up you are over Professor Choi.

San.

He's gotta get used to you calling him San like that.

"Were." You shake your head and press the tissue against your nose to pat it dry. "It's done with now."

"But, why? Couldn't you guys just play it off?"

"I'm sure he wanted to be safe, though." Felix adds softly. "I think I kinda see where he's coming from." He looks at you. "I don't think he meant to hurt you, but he's probably trying to protect you and keep everything safe in the meantime. Once this blows over—"

"I doubt we'd get back together."

"Don't say that. You never know, Y/N. I agree with Lix. He's probably just trying to do what's best for now even if it hurts him to. I'm sure he cares a lot about you. I mean heck, he almost fucked up Hae-jin in front of everyone." You sigh and look down at your hands, the feeling of sadness and emptiness all consuming.

"He does." Eunchae adds to Jurin's reassurance. "I don't know why Professor Lee and Professor Jeong think it's their business, though. Haven't they done enough damage?"

"Awful. People literally can't mind their business, especially when it has nothing to do with them."

"I get the power dynamics but Professor Choi doesn't seem like the type. So, honestly, it's not like anyone was getting hurt in the process." Jiung silently fiddles with his hoodie string as Felix goes on.

"And people clearly don't know you if they assume you're the one throwing yourself on him." Jurin adds.

"Damn. Two people can't just be together?" Felix shakes his head. "Anyway, you got us, and this will pass. I'm sure Professor Kim will do everything to help and figure things out, too." You dig your face into your hands, trying to wipe away the remaining tears before you nod and smile at Lix in appreciation for his support, too.

Still, you can't help but notice how Jiung has remained quiet this entire time— barely able to maintain eye contact with you.

"Should we go to dinner? Get some food in you?" Eunchae gives you a small smile and giggle. You nod and stand with them, quickly checking your appearance in the mirror while the three start making their way out of your door.

"Can we talk for a second?"

"About?"

"I just have to tell you something. Probably shouldn't wait until after dinner."

"Um, okay?" You look at him, hands crossed over your chest in a vulnerable manner, doe-eyes peeking up at him as he lets out a hefty sigh. "What's on your mind?"

"Y/N, I'm sorry. I just wanna say I'm sorry and I hope you understand where I'm coming from. But—" He lets out another sigh before shaking his head, almost as if he were shaking his feelings off. Trying to tell himself he needs to say it. "I-I went to Professor Kim and told him about you and Professor Choi. I told him I thought you were being taken advantage of and that I was worried."

"What?" You can barely get out. "W-why would you do that?"

"I was really just worried and I wasn't sure how else to get to you. I-I thought Professor Kim would be able to help—"

"Jiung." You call his name and step back, not wanting to be in close proximity to him. You knew he was worried about you, but you didn't think he'd go off and talk to Namjoon about it right away. "Why would you do that? Why couldn't we just keep talking about it— why did you have to go and blow this up even more?!"

"I'm sorry, can you blame me?!—"

"You didn't have to go behind my fucking back and tell Professor Kim! I already told you it wasn't like that and you still told him it was?! What the actual hell, Jiung?"

"I was just worried about you! I was being your fucking bestfriend, trying to make sure you weren't hurt or anything."

"And then you made things worse. Are you happy?" You scoff. "Those assumptions could have really fucked up Professor Choi."

"What about you, Y/N? Why do you keep disregarding yourself?! Is that even healthy—"

"Healthy?! I'm telling you the truth!" You scoff. "And you don't know shit about me and him, so quit acting like you do." You throw your hands up in defeat because he'll never get it. "Forget it, okay? You'll never understand and I don't need you to."

"Hey, what's going on?" Felix pops his head in, confused at the ruckus going on behind doors. Truthfully, he heard everything just as he was approaching the door to check up on you, and he's not sure how to feel. It's hard. He feels like he's in the middle because he sees Jiung, he sees you.

"You guys can go off to dinner together, but I'll probably just stay behind."

"But, Y/N—" Jiung adds in defeat.

"Why don't you and the girls go? We'll catch up later." Felix tugs him by the sleeve and gives him a look. "Give her some space." He mutters lowly just as he gets in close distance.

—END

Your alarm blares on the coffee table, a harsh reminder that you haven't really slept much. It was time to wrap up and get ready for Yunho's class— something you weren't entirely ready to tackle today either.

But, you get up anyway.

You sigh and put on your brave face.

You throw on a simple sweater, jeans and your Sambas— dabbing a bit of mascara, brow gel and lip gloss to fix yourself up a tiny bit for the day. You were tired of feeling sad and dressing the part; the least you could do was finally get some fresh air and look decent enough for the world while coming out of your slump. You grab your things and pack up your bag, heading out of the door with your keys in hand.

Kinda sucks you won't be returning to San's lab.

Kinda sucks you won't be returning to San.

You let out a sigh and quietly walk over to the classroom in peace, keeping your head down for a majority of the time.

Avoiding eye contact, avoiding anything having to do with the outside world in meantime.

"Hey!" Yunho says in his usual fashion. You give him a small smile, although you're not really sure why he's joining class yet again today. He had been joining your class in particular recently, and you knew why.

He just wanted to get under your skin.

"Hi." You respond, getting your laptop together. Yunho continues to watch you from where you're standing, noting the sadness that envelopes your entire body. The way you're avoiding him. The way it's so blatantly obvious that you know that he knows.

That Iseul is the reason why you're sad.

You don't say anything otherwise; keeping your head down and away from Yunho even while the class walks in. You continue to carry on with the last journal club of the class before giving everyone time to work on their final proposals before it's due at the end of the evening. A few people linger at the end of class to speak with you and Yunho to get your guidance on the last remaining bits of their proposals before they thank you for all your help and head out for the day.

You still haven't said a word to Yunho, and he can't help but ask:

"Is something wrong?" Yunho asks nonchalantly after class, looking at your figure even though you are avoiding eye contact with him while packing up your things.

"No."

"You don't have to lie to me."

"I don't know why you're asking if something is wrong when you know what it is already. Don't you?" You look at him plainly from the side before gathering the rest of your things.

"Whatever's been happening between you and San is between you and San—"

"So, was it you who told Professor Kim? Or was it Professor Lee?" You cut him off. Yunho stares at you, and he doesn't respond. Of course he won't, of course he won't throw Iseul under the bus even though you know she was behind it.

"It was for the best."

"Quite frankly, I don't think you can speak on what's best for me or him. Especially him." You look at Yunho directly in the eye. "Are you both that determined to bring San down? Is that what this?" He furrows his brows.

"Reel it in, Y/N." He says, sternly. "Do you not understand how damaging this could be for both you and him? If anything, it was done to protect you both."

"What makes you think we weren't capable of doing so?" Yunho lets out a pathetic chuckle before he steps forward and leans towards your ear, a small smirk on his lips.

"I think snuggling up on campus and sneaking into his office is enough of a reason." He pulls back, licking his lips before dipping his hands into his pocket.

"And I think you need to learn how to mind your own business and let San handle his own." You scoff. "In any case, Yunho." You look him in the eye. "You and Iseul already ruined him from the beginning and you can't come to terms with it." You tilt your head to the side. "You both were never deserving of San, and that is sad. No wonder you two are miserable and are still keeping tabs on him." Yunho's mouth slightly drops, but he doesn't respond to your statement. "I'll help out with finals if needed. Otherwise, please consider my TA assignment with you done."

You almost run into Iseul as you stomp out of the classroom, leaving her to knit her brows at you in response.

"Nice talk." Iseul pops in, her husband biting his cheek.

"We should have never gotten involved with that, Iseul." He says lowly as he gathers his things together.

"Oh, so just let them—"

"That's exactly it, just let them be." He cuts her off and looks at her. "It didn't have to be us. We could've just let them be and let anyone else do the talking. Let them learn on their own." His jaw ticks.

"We did the right thing." She crosses her arms.

"Still doesn't change the fact that you're taking the opportunity to destroy San and running with it. It didn't have to be us." He repeats, slinging his bag onto his shoulder.

"Yunho." She says. "You're not actually taking Y/N seriously, are you? She's delusional if she thinks all of this is okay and would've slipped."

"Don't call her delusional, Iseul. You have no say in their relationship or what they're about. You had no right. They knew what they were getting into. You just lead them into the trap for your own benefit." Yunho scoffs. "You wanted to see this unfold, didn't you? You wanted this to unfold in a specific way."

"What is going on, Yunho?"

"We're not meddling in this anymore. If you're not ready to stop, count me out of it. I'm not doing this, I'm not picking at their business anymore." He grabs his things and takes the lead out of the room. Iseul scoffs and shakes her head, slowly trailing behind him.

As for you, you feel cold. You feel isolated. You feel empty. You walk out and find a hidden table behind the building and set yourself down to get yourself together. You let out a couple of breaths to ease your feelings, promising yourself you wouldn't cry over this anymore.

But, it hurts to hold it in.

It hurts.

You feel the dullness, the heavy ache, in the center of your chest, and it hurts.

You have to move on.

"Fuck." You sigh, hand over your chest to give it a few gentle rubs before you're back on your feet and checking the time. You need to see Professor Kim just like your promised.

Of course, as you're on your way to Professor Kim's office, you find San passing by with Yeosang and Jongho. His eyes land on you and you immediately break first, feeling the tears ready to well up in your eyes. He sees the way your head drops and how you turn away— he can't help but slightly turn over his shoulder to keep his eyes on you.

To lock eyes with you once more.

To feel.

But, it doesn't happen. And it fucks San up more than he expects because he doesn't know even know what Jongho and Yeosang are talking about anymore after that brief interception.

"Yo, you good?" Jongho taps his chest with a small chuckle, bringing San back to reality.

"Yeah. Sorry." He tries to play it off quickly but Jongho quickly turns over his shoulder to see you walking in the opposite direction.

"All good." He returns to San and gives his shoulder a small squeeze. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about." San gives him a toothless smile. "Anyway, did you guys figure out where we're going before we make laps around campus?" Yeosang and Jongho share a quick look before they follow behind San and pick the conversation back up to prevent any of San's sadness from creeping up.

Meanwhile, you continue your way to Professor Kim's office, wiping away the stragglers that manage to escape your eyes and streak your cheeks. You weren't gonna let this get to you, so you quickly try to brush it off and get yourself together especially when you walk down the hallway and into Professor Kim's office. He's in his chair, typing away on his computer— glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.

"Hey Y/N, come sit and make yourself comfortable." He smiles at you and you return the gesture, sitting down on the chair posted in front of his desk.

"Thanks for meeting with me today, Professor Kim."

"No, thank you." He chuckles and finally shifts his full attention towards you. "How are you today?"

"Uh, could be better but not complaining."

"Yeah? How was class with Professor Jeong?"

"Hm, okay." You hum before shifting in your seat nervously.

"Just okay?" You nod. "Well, as long as there aren't any complaints or anything you wanna tell me." Namjoon knows you probably aren't having a great time in Yunho's class right now and he doesn't blame you.

"No." You force a smile. "Anyway, I see that I have to do my rotation presentation next week?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry, Y/N. You do understand why this is all happening, right?" You slowly nod. "I know you and San have been seeing each other, and I know he ended things the other day. I'm really sorry, but I just need to protect you both. Word is getting around fast and the dean isn't having it. I can't have him fire San, I can't have him kick you out of the grad program. Please just understand why things have to be this way. I just need it to settle."

"I do." You respond weakly before looking down at your hands. "I'm sorry for causing so much trouble, Professor Kim. I didn't mean— we didn't mean for this to blow up. I-I know we shouldn't have been so sloppy and reckless, and I'm sorry—"

"Hey, hey." He shakes his head with a sympathetic look. "No need to be sorry. I promise all is fine, and that's why I'm here to help and protect you both." You look at him with a sad nod, and you aren't sure why that's the tipping point for you but you suddenly start to break down in front of Professor Kim. He feels his heart breaks because he knows there wasn't any power play in this; he knows San as a person, and he's familiar with you as a student and the work you do. There was no way either of you used any power or position for your advantage. He knew this had been a genuine, real relationship— it's just truly unfortunate it had to unfold this way.

If word hadn't gotten around, maybe Namjoon wouldn't care at all.

But, he has to now, and that's what makes everything hard about his role.

"I promise everything is going to be okay." He says softly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—" Namjoon shakes his heas, watching the way you cry into your hands.

"Y/N, it's okay. You can let it out if you need to." He passes you the tissue box. "Can I ask you something? And be honest. I've already figured out your plan for school so you don't have to hold back." Namjoon says. "Do you care about him?" You nod as you continue to cry, the ache in your chest making it hard for you to breathe.

You miss San.

"But, it doesn't matter because he ended it. It's over with."

"He only did so because of my guidance, and I'm sorry about that. I told him this too, but it's not something I wanted to do. Trust me. As his friend, it's the first time I've seen him genuinely and truly happy. It's all I wanted after the things he's gone through. But, I just can't risk it right now. San is beginning to reach new heights with his career and getting more real estate to do things he's been wanting to do with Jongho. You're also just getting into the groove of things. I don't want either of your hard work to get snatched away over something like this."

"No, I know Professor Kim. I do understand and I'm grateful. It just sucks. I don't know how else we would've gotten away with it, I guess." You sniff. "Maybe it had to happen."

"Look, I told him this, too. But, I can't police every detail and tell you who you can and can't date. If San is someone you care about, then so be it, but the only thing I ask of you is to keep it off campus. I cannot have you two interacting on campus or else he's out. Not by my choice, but the committee."

"I don't want anything to happen to him."

"I know, and he said the same thing about you. He cares just as much, so don't think that he doesn't." You dab your face with the napkin and nod.

"Jiung confessed and told me he came to you about it." Namjoon nods.

"I think he was just worried as your friend. Rightfully so. But, I think he also shouldn't have jumped to those conclusions right away."

"I told him that."

"If I hadn't known San so well, I probably would've believed Jiung." He sighs. "It's alright, he didn't know and he was worried. Are you two okay?"

"Not really, but I think we just need time. I'm trying to see his side of things, but I also didn't think he'd do that so it caught me off guard."

"I see. Well. Give yourself some time and grace, okay? I'm sorry it had to be this way for now." You give him a tiny, toothless smile. Eyes still shiny and watery from the crying you've just done.

I'm sorry it had to be this way for now.

It repeats in your head over and over again because why does it feel like this is just how it's gonna be? Despite Namjoon reassuring you, despite San's explanation. Why does it just feel like a fleeting moment? A chapter in your book— a part that was never really supposed to last.

"Thank you." He gives you a smile.

"So, shifting to the program. I was thinking I could pull you into my lab and we can figure out things as time goes on? Explore other options if there's anything else you'd wanna explore." You nod. "You know there's other paths we can look into, or if you're totally fine with where you're at in my lab, then we can just stick with that plan."

"That sounds good. Thank you, Professor Kim."

"Unfortunately, like I mentioned, I can't have you interacting with Professor Choi. I'll have to make sure you don't take any of his classes or end up in any collaboration projects with him." You nod.

"Okay. I understand."

"You'll have to halt all your work in his lab immediately. You can grab your things when you feel ready to, but I'll have you in my lab starting next week. I know it'll be a bit crazy with your rotation presentation, but I promise to make it a smooth transition."

"Okay." You purse your lips. "I'm almost finished with my rotation presentation."

"That's great!"

"It'll just be us three?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry. It's not the usual format but I need the dean to see all the good work you do."

"Thank you. I appreciate your support."

"Do you have any questions so far? Any other concerns?" You think for a second before shaking your head.

"No."

"I'll send you some onboarding info and give you the contacts to some key people in my lab to help you get started. We can figure out your project and goals in a little more depth next week. Let's aim for a Monday morning meeting? 9am?"

"Good with me."

"Thanks, Y/N. And please trust me when I say all is gonna be well."

"Thank you."

"See you next week? Be sure to keep an eye out for my emails." You nod as you stand and tuck your bag closely to you.

"I will." You give him another smile before heading out of the door. Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose and plops back down onto his chair, picking up his direct line to ring the dean's office phone. It rings for a few minutes before the dean is answering on the other end.

"Namjoon."

"Hey. Can we meet today to talk about what's been going on? I can be over in the next 15 minutes."

"I'm free, but I have a hard cut off in 45 minutes."

"That's plenty of time. I'll be there soon."

"See you." Joon hangs up and gathers his things, loosening his tie to get himself together for this meeting. He doesn't necessarily wanna do this, nor does he think he's ready for whatever the dean could unleash on him.

On you, on San.

But, he has a job to do and he'll make damn sure he gets his point across. He'll make damn sure he controls this well, and he'll make sure nothing happens to the both of you.

When he gets into the building and heads straight for the dean's office, he's greeted by the front desk and his executive assistant. The dean's assistant knocks on his door and pops her head in to give him a heads up about Namjoon's visit. It isn't long before she's gesturing for him to come into his office, stepping out and slowly shutting the door behind her once Namjoon's settled in the seat in front of him.

"Namjoon."

"Dean Louie." Namjoon clears his throat. "Can we discuss what's been going on? I've got a chance to review this more in depth."

"Great. So, tell me. What's with the anonymous tip? Is there truth behind San and his student's relationship?"

"No." The dean looks at him with his head cocked to the side. "Not at all."

"Namjoon. This isn't the time to play games."

"Who said I was?" Joon asks. "This is purely a rumor and there is nothing going on between the two of them. To keep things safe, I'll make sure they don't cross paths and interact on campus, and I'll make sure to work closely with her and keep her under my wing." Namjoon says.

"A rumor? That blew up around campus? What about Iseul and Yunho? Iseul told me about the happy hour event with San. All of this seems too good to be true, and if you're covering for them—" Namjoon cuts him off.

"Since when did Iseul and Yunho have their best interest in San? All I know is that they've always been the driving issue, not San." Namjoon looks at the dean confused. "I don't mean to be disrespectful, but a rumor is a rumor and I've gotten to the bottom of it. I talked to the both of them and they denied it through and through. The only reason why San got caught up in the whole happy hour business was because a postdoc was crossing the line and being really disrespectful to her. Any one of us would've done it had we caught it right away like San did." Namjoon continues to furrow his brows. "Now, please. I'd appreciate if we can move on." The dean sits back and lets out a hefty sigh.

"Go on."

"As stated in my email, she will do her rotation presentation in front of myself, you and San. After that, she will be removed from his lab and will be placed in mine. We'll have weekly check-ins, and I'll work with her to move her classes around and realign her priorities so that she and San don't cross paths in this program again."

"And what about this real estate in the building? I'm not going to give it over if this is what San plans to do—"

"I'm sorry, but this shouldn't define San and his work." Namjoon pauses. "He's not, alright? I already confirmed it was a rumor and there is nothing going on. No reason for you to pull back on that real estate deal especially when Jongho had nothing to do with this either and San has already explained his side and agreed to comply regardless. She'll be out of his lab." The dean gives Namjoon a stern look.

"You better make damn sure this doesn't happen again, Namjoon. No rumors, no slip ups. And you make sure those three stop causing trouble on campus. Iseul, Yunho and San. I don't care who did what and who is blaming who, I need this to stop. Now. We can't have childish, petty issues running amuck on this campus."

"You have my word."

"If I hear San and Y/N in the same sentence again, I can't promise it will be the same outcome."

"With all due respect, I need you to understand that whatever they do, whatever happens off campus, doesn't concern me and shouldn't concern you either. I cannot police their behavior and make them act a certain way off grounds. They are both grown, mature adults that can make decisions on their own, and you know that's unfair and very unrealistic." The dean doesn't say much. He mutters a few things under his breath before he's returning his attention to Namjoon.

"Not a damn word about them ever again, Namjoon. I mean it." The dean warns him again before settling into his seat and returning his attention to his desktop computer. Namjoon does a quick, silent bow before walking out, sighing loudly to himself as he's finally gotten that over with.

Still doesn't make it any easier knowing he had his friend make a very difficult decision that he did not wanna do.

He hopes in time, this could blow over and San could be happy again. Despite this hurdle, he's betting on it. On you and him.

Maybe when you come back together, circumstances will be different enough that it won't make the relationship seem as bad as it does right now.

"Shit." Namjoon clicks his teeth when he finally gets out of the building and breathes in the fresh air. He is exhausted, but his day isn't about to be over, no. On his way back to his office, he finds Yunho speaking to a few colleagues in the courtyard. He must have gotten out of a meeting and was walking his visitors out.

And Namjoon doesn't give a fuck. That visit is ending now.

"Professor Kim! It's an honor to see you in the flesh!" Namjoon smiles at his guests before returning the favor.

"Hi there." Namjoon does a curt bow. "Hope you've enjoyed your visit."

"Completely. We had a great collaboration meeting with Professor Jeong here, and he gave us a tour around."

"That's great, yeah." Namjoon smiles before looking at Yunho. "Can we talk in my office?" Namjoon says near Yunho's ear. "Now?"

"Sure." Yunho bids his last farewell before excusing himself and following Namjoon straight to his office. No words being spoken or shared. Namjoon shuts the door and sighs, looking at Yunho with his hand on his hip. "What's going on, Joon?"

"I'm just trying to understand why you and Iseul are trying so hard to ruin that man's reputation. The dean told me Iseul went over there to give him more of her little intel on San."

"I don't know what she said or did—"

"You still knew about it, didn't you?" Namjoon looks at him. "You knew this whole time Iseul was trying to raise hell about this and you let her."

"How is this not wrong?"

"No one said it wasn't wrong, Yunho!" Namjoon raises his tone. "There were just better ways to go about it than throwing San's name out there the way you two did. Just throwing him out there to the wolves without even knowing the full story. That's the problem!"

"I'm sorry, it doesn't seem like it now, but we were looking out for him and everyone else potentially involved."

"Except me. If you knew better, you both would've let me handle this accordingly. This doesn't just affect him, Yunho. It affects you both. It affects me. It affects Y/N, Jongho, everyone. Because you both didn't know how to be discreet about your plans to bring San down."

"It was never like that!"

"Then, what was it like? Tell me. As his colleague, as someone who acted purely for their own benefit, what was it like? As San's ex-bestfriend, what was it like?" Yunho doesn't respond. "This isn't high school, Yunho. I'm sorry, but the both of you need to grow up."

"We just tried to do the right thing and I don't take any of it back. If you fail to see that, then that's on you—"

"Oh, so approaching the dean to give him more talk in his ear with your so-called evidence before coming to me is doing the right thing?" Namjoon looks at him. "What was the goal here? What did this plan look like to you and Iseul?” He shakes his head. “No, actually, I don't wanna hear it, she already came into my office to talk my ear off about this. That should've been enough to let me handle it." Namjoon furrows his brows at him.

"We just thought we were helping everyone—"

"Helping? Yourself or Iseul?" Namjoon shakes his head. "You know what, this is done. The damage is done. So, thank you and Iseul for your generous help." Yunho sighs. "Now that you've done all the talking, it's my turn." Joon steps closer to him. "As long as I'm around, I'll continue to keep the peace in this department, and that means I don't want you and Iseul meddling in San's personal matters ever again." Namjoon's jaw ticks as he and Yunho stare at each other in the brief pause that falls between them. "I don't want you meddling in Y/N's personal matters, I don't want you two doing anything on this campus besides running your labs and minding your own goddamn business. Do you understand me?" Namjoon places his hands on his hips while he and Yunho maintain eye contact. Yunho swallows thickly before nodding, digging his hands in his pockets.

"Yes sir."

"The next time you and Iseul wanna act like I don't know how to do my job, I promise I'll be good with reminding you."

—read 14.5 here

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme @wyrated

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cvntroach5000 · 3 days ago

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Lads with Command Evol reader

pairings: LaDs men x reader (separate)

no use of y/n, reader is gender neutral

content warning: mind control, brief descriptions of sexual activity (Xavier, Sylus, Caleb) 🔞

Xavier 💫

He mostly likes your Evol

Because he can think of a million ways to utilise it for something kinky

But at the same time, he can become pretty pouty if you use it on him to stop him when he's either horny or jealous

You can coax him out of his little fit easily enough, but it doesn't make him any less prone to get pissed the next time you do it to him

Your Evol is meant to be used for good! Like edging him during sex! Not stopping him from beating up a child for saying they want to marry you when they grow up. That kid needs to learn a lesson, okay

Zayne ❄️

He doesn't really have a problem with it, but he's not necessarily fond of it

Simply because you have a tendency to abuse it to force him to take breaks

And although the breaks feel nice, he's too much of a workaholic to properly appreciate them

He does find it convenient though when you use it to make problematic patients sit still

Granted, he wouldn't actually make you do that for him at a hospital

But when trying to rescue an injured stray animal, he's grateful for your Evol's utility

Rafayel 🪸

He doesn't really care much about your Evol

But he's developed a habit where he'll use it as an excuse

"I only did it cause you made me with your Evol!"

"I literally didn't even activate it"

At some point you shift between using it and not using it on him just to fuck with him

You're not proud of abusing your Evol like that, but someone has to put this guy in his place from time to time, and that someone can only be you

Sylus 🥀

Oh he's into this shit

He finds the ability to be very versatile and loves crafting strategies around it

Seeing the creative ways you utilise it is a pleasure, he loves seeing you destroy your enemies with your power and wit

After your bedroom antics develop into more freaky territory, using your Evol during sex also becomes an option

Now, Sylus will do whatever you ask, Evol or not, but something about not being able to resist even if he wanted to gets him really hot and bothered

Helplessness isn't something he's accustomed to, but the vulnerability of it during intimacy is pretty addictive

Caleb 🍎

He has a bit of mixed feelings about your Evol

On one hand, he likes how profficient you are with it and he thinks that kind of power is hot

On the other, it makes you far more slippery than he'd prefer

His Gravity Evol is very convenient, but that means fuckall if you just order him to let you go with your Command Evol

He can deal with you firing back at him when he tries to tease you, but you resisting him when he's just trying to protect you is incredibly frustrating

He does become much more amicable to the idea of your power after you use it to edge him and order him around during sex though

To be fair, it wasn't your intention to do so, it kinda slipped out when you told him not to cum yet and it went completely downhill from there

Caleb kinda wishes your Evol would work only during sex but oh well

#caleb 🫱🏼‍🫲🏻 xavier: it made me nut hard so i like it now #roach on the typewriter #command evol reader series #love and deepspace #lads sylus #lads caleb #lads rafayel #lads xavier #lads zayne #lads sylus x reader #lads caleb x you #lads rafayel x reader #lads xavier x reader #lads zayne x reader #lads x reader #lads fanfic #lads headcanons #lads smut

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euphoria-looney · 1 day ago

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Astro!

Yan!Batfam x Neglected!Reader Squid Games!AU

m. list|next

"And goodness knows, The Wicked's Lives are lonely. Goodness knows, The Wicked die alone. It just shows, when you're wicked, You're left only, on your own." 'No One Mourns The Wicked' by Wicked the Musical

Divider creds: (?) and @dollywons

As a kid, all I longed for was someone to play a game with me that didn’t require some form of technology to keep both of us entertained.

Well, be careful what you wish for, because I have reached an all-time low, willing to kill people with children's games to earn money.

How much longer will I spend in this twisted game before getting killed? Maybe this is better whether I win or lose, I still gain freedom.

One choice is just the better option.

That’d be losing winning.

Sure I would feel immense guilt, but I’d be free from debt… and then what? No longer needing to slave anyway from the amount of money I receive.

What then?

Could therapy even help? They’d probably send me off to a mental ward.

Who's going to believe I won millions from playing some children’s games?

I looked around and saw the old man again from earlier, sitting alone in a space, I approached him, and he accepted to play with me.

“When I was little, this was one of my favorite games as a child.” The old man told us while we were walking into an open area.

“Really? I’ll be honest, I’ve never played this game before.”

As we finally found a point to play the game, we conversed.

—

“Did we do this to make a pact?”

He held out his hand, his pinkie and thumb sticking out, I laughed, wrapping my pinkie around his, pressing our thumbs together.

“Sir, no my gganbu- I think that’s what they called a really close friend right?”

—

Eventually we went all for nothing, this was the funniest game I ever played… I almost forgot the fact that I was going to die at the end.

“Ah, guess you won, betting all my marbles for your single one. Didn’t see that one coming.” I chuckled sadly.

He held my hand and placed the last marble in my palm.

“Take it, it’s yours anyway.” I looked up at him in shock, I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.

“We are gganbu aren’t we? Remember we swore on it. And Gganbu always shares everything no matter what. You made this all possible.” My shoulder shook, as I could only stare at my shoes, my eyes felt like facets at the point.

And then I felt these same hands embrace me, and I felt like a child all over again.

“What a great way to go.”

He pulled away, making me face him.

“Thank you. I had a good time.”

I hugged him once again, my tears overflowing on his shoulders.

He let go and I walked out of the gates.

Sniffles were all I could do before I heard the voice behind me.

“I remember my name now. My name is Il-nam. Oh Il-nam.”

I kept walking then flinched when I heard a ‘bang’ go off.

Surrounded by all these dead bodies, and these empty emotions, I pushed forward.

[Player 1, Eliminated]

—

Despite everything, I’m still having these selfish thoughts of staying alive.

We had just played ‘glass bridge’ leaving three of us here, dressed in suits, and eventually I was talking with Penelope, she’s the one that helped me out of the restraint we were in after we left for the first time.

“Hey, [name], just in case either of us can actually make it out of this hellhole, promise that we will take care of each other's loved ones, okay?”

“Don’t say that, we’ll be okay.”

But she took more damage than any of us once the glass had shattered and was losing blood fast.

“Stay where you are, I’ll go get someone.”

I left and went to the guard or whatever they were, to beg, plead, for a doctor, maybe one that could’ve been on standby, but instead they walked past me with a coffin.

I could only stare at my once best friend standing over her bed.

I ran over there and held her body up, shaking her for some sign of hope.

“No, Penelope, please, no…”

—

Approaching the end game, we ate a feast, so fresh and nicely made, I felt the need to puke.

We place in the field shapes surrounding us, to resemble a squid, this was, Squid Game.

The rain soaking both of us, gray skies, and a single guard on the side.

Astro’s shirt still soaked in blood, his suit back on. He spoke before the game began, a knife in hand.

“I ended her suffering. You know she would have died anyway.”

The tears that once stained my face had been washed off by the rain, and now I could only feel disdain for the man I once knew in front of me.

“That’s bullshit, stop lying. She could’ve survived, they could have treated her.”

He retorted.

“I know what you’re like, you’re the reason I had to kill her. I knew you two would stop all this, so she didn’t die there. Even though we’ve gone so far, just to quit?”

It seemed so similar to the time back at the manor.

—

“Damian had a lot happen to him as a child, are you going to blame him for this?” Dick sighed Damian behind him with no remorse for the fact I had slashes on my arm, not deep but painful. And though they wouldn’t leave scars, would that really matter?

He held a weapon against me while all I had was a stack of books now discarded and torn on the ground.

“[name]. You’re older than him, he’s still a child. You are the reason for this, it could’ve been avoided if you didn’t egg things on. Don’t blame Damian for your faults.” Egg him on? All I did was try and avoid him.

It wasn’t fair.

—

Now, if it wasn’t high before, my blood pressure had to be spiking. For that petty reason? Simply because he didn’t want all of this going to waste?

“Was that it? You killed someone because this might end?” My voice trembled.

“Yeah! You and that girl would have been the majority you needed to get out! Going home without anything! I couldn’t live with that!”

“And you think that means anything?! What?! one more life on top of the others you’ve stolen isn’t enough, and won’t be enough until you receive something?! You’d rather have one more dead than for all three of us to leave and somehow find another way to bring something, anything home?!” I shouted back at him.

I took my knife out of my pocket.

“It's over…”

“I won’t let you leave here with the money.”

3RD POV

While the VIP’s finally stood up to watch this entertaining last game.

Two people who have developed over time physically and mentally, once friends, were squabbling, fighting with very small amounts of energy, but a passion to win.

Both stabbed the other when eventually, player 456 was able to get the other on the ground and punched him over and over again.

The Waynes couldn’t help but be relieved this was it, they’d never let her go again, they would make up for everything starting with making sure she would be okay.

“Found the location heading there soon!” They heard Cassandra on the other line.

Late, but they would make it.

—

[name]’s POV

I held my knife, before stabbing it into the field, next to his face, before limping over to the goal point, it felt miles anyway, the guard had his gun loaded and aimed at Astro.

There before me was the practical finish line.

I can’t… No, I refuse to if anything, playing this game has fucked me other the head, but I refuse for one second to let this game be the last thing I ever see Astro at.

“I wanna end here.” I face the guard walking back to them.

“Clause Three of the agreement. The players are able to end the game when the majority agrees, so if we both give up, you have to end it right?” I stumbled over.

The guard spoke on the walkie-talkie while I gazed back at Astro.

“Astro.”

“Back when we went to the same school, we’d hang out together and study before leaving chasing after our purpose that called out for us. Nothing's calling anymore.” After all this time, he still is.

I smiled at him, that once gummy smile I adorned, one that I hated so much.

“Let’s go”

I extended my hand to him.

“Let’s go together.”

He slowly lifted his hand.

“[name], I’m sorry.”

And before I could react, he took that hand and grabbed the knife that I put right next to him, and impaled himself in the neck with it.

Blood gushed out and he choked out blood.

I quickly went to his side, stabilizing his head.

“Astro! Astro!”

“[name]..”

“No, no, don’t speak! Hang on!” I was panicking, this can’t be the end of us.

“M-my mother, please take care of my mom. And…”

“I love you.” That made me freeze my erratic movements, I was sure he could’ve seen my eyes widen.

“Loved you since meeting you.” With that, he closed his eyes and I could only call out his name, and held onto his body, it was getting colder fast.

[Player 218, Eliminated. Congratulations, Player456]

—

3rd POV

“Believe in Jesus or go to Hell!” A guy holding two signs chanted outside in the rain, strangers walking past each other, a white limo rolled up on the side of the street, dumping a bruised and exhausted body on the sidewalk, the same guy chanting untied the girl.

“Believe in Jesus.”

The girl was in the bank depositing 4.56 billion dollars before withdrawing some out. Her hair a mess, eyes sullen and eye bags that dragged down her face, she seemed exhausted. Walking back to the store she once worked at, a sign stated ‘SOLD’ and next to it a reef, “Rest in Peace, Conny Claire, Died too soon, old shop owner that meant so much to many people.” Flowers that surround the message.

The girl that came there for a snack could only sink to the ground in shock, hands rising to cover her face, body shaking and quivering.

Walking down a store alleyway, Astro’s mom approached the girl.

“How have you been, here take some food for the road after losing…” She sighed, and patted the girl's back, walking back to her shop.

“Have you heard from… Nevermind.”

The girl opened her run down apartment where she once lived and went to see all the old photos in the yearbook of classes she had with Astro and in all of the group ones featuring her, her classmates, and Astro she noticed how in each one he was looking at her, with those fond eyes.

She could only fall onto her bed, her tired state crept on her before she fell asleep.

Some time later, the girl kept her promise to Penelope and helped out her family, then left them with Astro’s mom, leaving a wealthy sum of money, they became a family… somewhat of a replacement for the other's loved one, and the girl left paying off whatever debt any of them had.

The girl was sitting alone at the pond, drinking some alcohol. Before an old woman approached her, a flower basket in hand, it seemed she needed to sell them immediately before they wilted away. The girl reached into her pocket, handing her some money before the old woman went off.

Picking up the nicely wrapped flower, a card appeared, making the girl stumble at picking up the card before reading it.

Approaching a hospital, card in hand.

It was the old man.

“What is this… Who are you?”

“Pour some water for me. Please, [name].”

And there she sat, anger rising in her, but she couldn’t do anything against the man who made the games.

She sat listening to the man talk, about the homeless guy below them, about how everything he said about himself was true, how he missed the old days, him and his friend used to have the time of their lives, and how no matter if you're homeless or rich both lives are no fun. Then a clock struck.

She looked at the machine to see that his heart was no longer beating, instead a flat line appeared. Getting up, she closed his eyes.

That’s when she finally started her life again. She got it together.

So, at the first place, her life changed at the same bus stop, well across from it, the skies were clear and the sun was glaring into the area. It had been a regular day for her, working at her own company and all.

Maybe that’s why when she unlocked her car and stared right in front of her at that same place, she was shocked to see her father, Bruce Wayne, and his family.

That’s it for this part of Astro! Did you like it?

Also, unlike Squid Game, soon after [name] left, everyone that participated in Squid Games got arrested, which made it on the news, but was looked past after a few months, [name] made gravestones for Penelope and Astro.

Ofc the Batfam got the credit and got even more famous for uncovering this incident, which is also why they hadn’t ‘visited’ [name] and now are just getting to it.

Not the update you expected, but I hope you like it.

Any comments, advice and corrections are appreciated!!!

-ILoveeeMoney

Taglist time! ❤

Also, I love the idea and from fic from both @jellyfishmoon97 and @not-weirdoshrek and a new addition that I'm super happy I bumped into @alilobsessive.

@holysoulsweets @sh4rk-k1d @sillysealsies @loomspuddle @cantfindmelol @alwaysholymilkshake @leitor-sonolento @randomlyappearingartist @beyondblissxoxo @sirairi @yhin-gg @frankie-moon3 @welpthisisboring @yokesmam @bat1212 @enchantingarcadecreation @twismare @delias-stuff @ladylupuscrow @ferchu0406 @c4xcocoa @cruzerforce4256 @anonymoushehehehe @godoreo22 @blerp-22 @facelessisnthere @sirenetheblogger @themightybee4067 @boredselkie @tiffyisme3760 @random4137 @midnightgrimoire @mybones537 @chaoticmoontimetravel @jsprien213 @crazycaoticsimp @elfollaburras3000 @czarinera @tiffyisme3760 @exactlynumberonekryptonite @gwyneveire @k-anaru @a-lurking-fae @nxdxsworld @ryuushou

I think that's everyone who wanted to be tagged, I hope I didn't spell anyone's name wrong and tag the wrong person.

#platonic batfam #platonic yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #batfam x neglected reader #batfam #neglected reader

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credulousmooncake · 2 days ago

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do you believe in fate? destiny? what in arabic they call "maktub"? it literally means 'it is written'. i didn't believe in magical things to be real, but i do now. i really do now. it's been so bittersweet but i believe that the universe conspired to let me find you and love you. you watched me leave, I'm sorry. i swear it'll get better. i care, and i always will. i didn't want to leave, but i didn't want you to feel as alone as me. i didn't want your fantastical ideas of love to be scrubbed away with my realistic possibilities of in how many different ways it could go wrong. i wish to be a dreamer like you, how everything will fit into place as if the universe conspired for it. i believe in our love, but staying wouldn't have helped either of us. i won't say this to you lightly, I've been self absorbed and dragging you along my rollercoaster. i was afraid of the rollercoaster and ran away at the sight of it until i realised I'm the rollercoaster. i don't want to be. i want to be better. i want to be the boulevard of sweet-smelling flowers that reminds you of every time you've been truly happy, where you walk across and it feels like a warm hug from someone familiar. i don't want to be the autumn gloom, i want to be the summer sun. i want my head to stop believing that everything i touch is tainted with sadness. i need to stop fantasising that being alone is good or justify it to be healthy. i want to embrace the fact that I'm shitless scared to be alone, i can't stand it. I'm pervaded with jealousy at the thought of losing something real and someone else having it. I need to acknowledge it all. I didn't want you to accept as i am when even i don't know who i am. it would be wrong. I need to love limitless again, with my head and heart both synchronising enough to let me love rightly. I'll find you when I get there, and I can just hope that you'll, even in the slightest of the possibilities, be welcoming of it and we try again.

Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

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star2fishmeg · 12 hours ago

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Which hughes do you think would be into the weirdest kink?

[18+]

I think most people have got something deep down, personally, whether they know it or not (doesn't have to be extreme either). So, I wouldn't say weirdest bc I don't want anyone feeling kink shamed, so we'll say the kink they keep the most quiet (under cut):

Quinn | He's a quiet guy in general, but he has thoughts of e-stim running through his mind a lot. He's used it before for recovery treatment, but he can't help but imagine how you'd squirm and whine if he stuck the patches to your most sensitive areas, gradually increasing the voltage to coax an orgasm out of you. Quinn's openly been the number one appreciator of your tits, never failing to hear you moan out and tangle your fingers in his hair, pushing his head into you. He excels in making sure they get the attention they deserve but too often while sucking them pink he's imagined you lactating on to his tongue. He's a curious guy, enjoys learning, and there's only one way he'll find out how you taste. But the one he keeps quiet the most, is rubbing one out as he cucks you. The condition is that he gets a little say in who, he's a possessive guy, and loves you dearly and what his lover wants, his lover gets so if you were to ever bring up the subject of helping someone out or inviting someone to join, he'd be more than happy to watch you wail out amused moans, getting the temporary satisfaction you desire. After all, he'd just make sure to fuck you better to erase all trace of the other person, it's not like you'd pick anyone over him anyway.

Jack | Gives the vibes that he's had a few roleplay fantasies. It's less about the scenario - he doesn't mind if he's slamming his cock into a maid or being sucked dry by a nurse - and more about the little outfits you'd wear, those skimpy ones that don't hide much, those little skirts that let your panties peek out, tops that can easily but pulled on to free your tits. As long as the allusion's there, he's getting harder by the second. Speaking of fantasies, best know that when he's chewing on that hockey glove of his, it's because he's thinking about fucking you with his gear. He can't explain it, but the thought of you tainting his gear with your cum, your scent and coaching you through adapting to the size has him aching and palming his dick. Whether it's the finger of his glove and rubbing your clit over his stick and wiping you clean with his jersey, there's something about the possession of it he can't get out of his head. His last, most unspoken kink is how deep down, degradation gives him some of the best orgasms of his life. He loves to be praised and thrives off you cry about how good he makes you feel, but calling him pathetic and saying that he could do better really gets his adrenaline going and cock hardening. Degrading him gives him something to prove, which means he'll work twice as hard to get you there.

Luke | He's not got a lot to hide, he'll either admit it or wait for you to bring it up and agree. Luke? Secrets? Barely. Yet, he's oddly quiet when it comes to receiving breast play. He loves your tits, loves his mouth smothering them, but something he's been wondering is what it would feel like if you sucked his, groped him, flicked your tongue over and pinches his nipples until his body was tingling down to his core. His cock twitches whenever you touch his chest anyway, it's sensitive and you have a touch that makes his breath hitch so maybe one day you'll have your lips wrapped around his peak, sucking and swirling until they're swollen pink, fingers rolling his nipples as you're sliding along his cock. Being a hockey player comes with long roadies, sometimes too long for him to cope and there are definitely nights where he sits in his hotel room, fisting his cock and imagining it's your hand which is where he wishes he could confess his thoughts of filming to you. He knows is a concept built on trust and comfort, but his stomach flips at the thought of watching a video of himself disappearing inside of your pussy, your voice blaring through his headphones whining and moaning out his name on a loop as he gives his cock broad strokes just as you do it. He thinks he'd feel more at home listening to your orgasm, watching himself rub his tip through your folds and cum inside you.

#≡starfishmeg #luke hughes #quinn hughes #jack hughes #luke hughes smut #quinn hughes smut #jack hughes smut #thank you to the gc too for your input <33

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lexiputellas · 2 days ago

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Broken Vows - the before

mdni

part1 - part2

Mimi’s birthday party is in full swing, and her house is packed. You spent the entire afternoon helping her set up—decorating, stocking the fridge, making sure there was enough food to soak up the absurd amount of alcohol she bought.

Mimi’s your best friend in Spain. From the moment you met at a company party, you clicked. It was surprising, really—she works on the marketing side, mostly handling sports brands, while you’re in the financial and legal department. You don’t exactly cross paths much at work, but that never mattered. She’s your person here.

Moving from the US was an adjustment. Social dynamics are different—people are louder, more affectionate, more direct. But the corporate world? That’s the same everywhere. Ruthless, demanding, over-consuming, and with a lot of pressure.

Right now, though, the only pressure you’re dealing with is the weight of someone’s eyes on you. Or at least, you wish. Because your own eyes? They’re locked onto her.

She’s by the door leading to the outside, deep in conversation with a few people. Her blonde hair, her hazel eyes, the way she’s holding her glass, the shape of her fingers around it.

Fuck. You think you’re wet just from looking.

And then—

“Mierda, are you even listening?” Mimi is poking at your side, pulling you out of your daze.

You blink. “What?”

“Tequila shots. Come on.”

No, Mimi. I want to keep looking at your gorgeous friend.

Mimi tugs at your wrist. “Let’s go, let’s go.”

You sigh, annoyed. “Okay, okay.”

The kitchen is a mess of people, but you’re focused on lining up the shots, pouring the tequila with practiced ease. You reach for the salt when—

Someone crashes into your back.

The bottle tips. Liquid spills everywhere.

“Fuck, fuck,” you mutter, watching the wasted tequila swirl into the sink.

“Lo siento, lo siento,” comes a voice behind you.

A voice that is low, smooth, entirely too sexy for your current state.

You turn. And of course, it’s her.

Up close, she’s even prettier—somehow. Unfairly. Your brain short-circuits for a second, and it’s embarrassing how long you just stare at her, blatantly drinking her in.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

Then she touches your arm.

Okay, brain, I said stop, not die.

“¿Estás bien?” she asks.

You are absolutely not fine.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” you manage. “These things happen.”

She looks over her shoulder, then back at you. “Let me help you clean it up.”

Before you can respond, she adds, “Mimi went outside for the shots, by the way.”

“Oh, how nice of her,” you deadpan.

She laughs. “She’s already wasted.”

“I know, right?” you sigh.

She pauses, then tilts her head at you. “Do you want to take a shot?”

You arch a brow. “Only if you take one with me.”

“Of course. I did ruin the first round, after all.”

“You did,” you say, shrugging dramatically.

She grins as she hands you a shot glass, sprinkles salt onto your skin, and does the same for herself.

“Uno, dos, tres.”

The tequila burns down your throat, sharp and fiery.

“Fuck, that’s strong,” you groan.

She smirks. “Oh, so you’re a lightweight?”

You glare. “Excuse me? If college taught me anything, it was how to drink.”

She raises a brow, challenging. “Let’s see if you can keep up, then.”

Oh, it’s on.

“Is that a challenge?” You pause. “Sorry, I didn’t even ask your name.”

“Alexia.”

And that’s how it starts. Shot after shot, conversation flowing as smoothly as the alcohol. You learn she plays for Barcelona—like, actually plays, and she’s apparently really fucking good at it. But beyond that, she’s magnetic, electric. She’s funny, she’s sharp, and—god, you’re in so much trouble.

Somewhere between her teasing you about your drinking skills and you pretending to be deeply offended, you lose track of time. You’re not sure how long you’ve been standing here, but suddenly, you’re acutely aware of how close she is, of how her fingers keep brushing against yours when she gestures.

And then, in the middle of whatever she’s saying, you blurt, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

Her head tilts slightly. “Okay…”

You turn and walk away, heart pounding.

Was that smooth? Does she know she’s supposed to follow? It should be implied, right? Right?

Shit. Maybe not.

You close the bathroom door behind you, press your palms against the counter. Exhale.

And then—

A knock.

The door opens just enough for her to peek inside. “Do you need anything? Are you okay?”

Your stomach flips.

You meet her eyes, and it’s not even a question.

“You,” you say.

She blinks. “Me?”

You step closer, your voice steady. “Yes. I need you.”

Something in her expression shifts—like something unspoken just snapped.

“Oh.”

She steps inside and locks the door behind her.

Then she’s right there, crowding you against the sink, so close you can feel the heat rolling off her skin.

You grab her by the collar of her jacket and kiss her. Hard.

She groans against your lips, hands flying to your waist, gripping, tugging. The counter digs into your back, but you don’t care—she’s everywhere, touching, tasting, pressing.

Her hands slip under your skirt, fingers skimming the lace of your underwear.

You gasp against her mouth. “Fuck.”

She smirks. “You look so fucking hot in this outfit.”

You grin breathlessly. “Yeah? It looks even better when it’s off me.”

That’s all the encouragement she needs.

Your blouse falls open, her hands sliding under the fabric, palms skimming over your lace bralette. Her mouth is on your neck now, biting, teasing.

You lift yourself instinctively, gripping the edge of the counter as she drags the your lace underwear down, slow and deliberate. The fabric grazes your thighs, pooling at your ankles, but you barely register it because all you can focus on is her.

She straightens, gaze locked onto yours, eyes darker now, heavy-lidded with intent. Her lips part slightly, her breath warm against your cheek as she lifts her hand.

Two fingers, glistening under the dim bathroom light, hover just before your lips.

“Suck.”

Your stomach tightens at the command, heat pulsing through your veins. You part your lips and take her in, closing your mouth around her fingers, letting your tongue drag over them, wet and slow. She inhales sharply, and when you glance up at her through your lashes, you see it—that flicker of hunger flashing across her face.

You hollow your cheeks slightly, suck a little harder, and her jaw clenches. Her free hand lands on your hip, fingers digging in. You swear you feel the way her pulse stutters.

Then, with agonizing slowness, she pulls her fingers from your mouth. A thin string of saliva stretches between them before breaking.

Her gaze never leaves yours as she trails those fingers down—over your collarbone, teasing a path between the curve of your breasts, down your stomach. Each movement is unhurried, torturous, a deliberate contrast to the racing of your pulse.

And then heat surges through your body as she finally touches you, fingers slipping between your legs, parting you with effortless confidence. A sharp gasp leaves your lips as she strokes once—slow, teasing, barely enough.

You clutch at her jacket, pulling her closer, needing more, but she just smirks against your skin, pressing her mouth to your jaw as her fingers slip deeper, finding exactly where you need her.

••••••••••

After that night at Mimi’s party, things with Alexia—now Ale, because somewhere along the way, she became Ale to you— just… happened. There was no grand conversation, no defining moment where you sat down and mapped out whatever it was between you two.

But she messaged you every single day.

Sometimes it was a picture of her at training, drenched in sweat, hair a mess, grinning at the camera. Long day.

You’d reply with a picture of your laptop, spreadsheets open, coffee half-drunk beside it. Tell me about it.

Sometimes it was a selfie of her wrapped in a blanket, looking soft, too pretty for someone who spent her day terrifying defenders. Can’t sleep.

And sometimes, it was nothing at all—just her name lighting up your phone, a text that didn’t need an excuse because, somehow, you’d become a part of each other’s routine.

Whenever she was in Barcelona, you saw each other. Sometimes you’d go to her house, sometimes she’d come to yours. You told yourself it was casual, that it was just easy.

But the truth? You were so fucking lost in her.

It was in the way she talked, the way she looked at you, the way she made you feel safe without even trying. The way you hated having people over, but somehow, when it was her, you found yourself checking the clock, waiting for the sound of her knocking at your door.

So yeah, maybe it wasn’t casual.

Tonight, you're at the stadium, watching Barcelona play. And it’s packed—like, shoulder-to-shoulder, can-barely-move packed. You know it’s an important game because Ale told you it was. And you’re trying to learn, really. Trying to understand the formations, the plays, the rivalry.

But mostly, you’re just watching her.

You’re wearing her number. Eleven. You know she has it tattooed on her hand, the same hand that rests on your thigh when she drives, the same hand that runs through your hair when she’s half-asleep, the same hand that—

Focus.

She’s ridiculous on the field. Unshakable. Like she was made for this. You’ve seen her play before, but there’s something different about being here, feeling the crowd shake the stadium, hearing her name chanted like she’s royalty.

Barcelona wins, of course. She told you they would. And you’re learning to always believe her.

Your phone vibrates.

Ale: I know we said dinner, but what do you think about meeting some of my teammates?

Okay. Do not freak out. It’s casual. You guys are casual. You already know some of them. This is fine.

You: Yeah, sure. Want me to meet you there?

Her response is instant.

Ale: No, I have my car. Come to the parking area. They already know your name.

…They already know your name?

Your brain short-circuits for a second, but your fingers still type: Okay.

The restaurant is charming—small, outdoors, the kind of place that feels like a well-kept secret. When you arrive, Ale’s hand finds yours without hesitation, like it belongs there. Like it’s meant to be there.

She leads you to the table, where her teammates and their plus-ones are already chatting.

“Hola, chicas,” she greets.

“Ala, the captain arrives!” someone calls, and there’s an easy chorus of cheers.

She says hi to everyone, casual, smooth, and then—

“This is my girlfriend.”

…Who?

Your brain stalls. Did she—did she just—?

No conversation, no warning, no Hey, by the way, let’s put a label on this. Just this is my girlfriend, like it’s a fact. Like it’s always been a fact.

She doesn’t even look at you, just keeps smiling like she didn’t just send your heart into cardiac arrest.

Her teammates are nice. The food is great. The conversation is fun. But your brain is stuck on girlfriend.

On the way back to her place, she drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh, fingers tapping lazily. She’s always touching you—light brushes, casual squeezes, like she doesn’t even think about it.

You break the silence, your voice deceptively calm. “So… you have a girlfriend now, huh?”

She smirks, eyes flicking toward you before returning to the road. “Mhm,” she hums, squeezing your thigh like she’s testing the waters. “And she’s wearing my jersey, sitting in my car, coming to my house… So, I’d say she’s pretty into me too.”

Oh, she’s good. Too good.

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “Interesting. Because I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

Alexia chuckles, low and smug. “No? You didn’t?” She taps her fingers against your thigh, tracing slow, lazy circles. “Must’ve slipped my mind, then.”

Your heart does something stupid in your chest, and you hate how easily she gets to you. She’s not even trying. Just sitting there, looking unfairly good, driving like she didn’t just casually change the entire dynamic of your relationship with a single sentence.

“You’re very smooth, Ale.”

She grins, full and shameless. “I know.”

At her apartment, she closes the door behind you, lingers against it for a second, just looking at you.

Then she steps forward, slow, deliberate. Hands find your waist. Fingers press, grounding.

Her voice is quieter now, lower. “Do you want to be?”

You swallow. “Be what?”

She tilts her head. Fingers press just a little firmer. “My girlfriend.”

And fuck, that’s it.

You don’t answer with words. You don’t need to. Instead, you grab the collar of her shirt and pull her in, kissing her like she just scored the winning goal. Like you’re already hers.

She groans into your mouth, hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer, closer, until you don’t know where you end and she begins.

You’re not sure how it happens, but suddenly, your back meets the wall, and she’s pressing into you, her thigh between yours, her lips teasing, pulling back just enough to make you chase her.

You pull back slightly, just enough to meet her gaze, to make sure she hears you—feels it. “Yes.”

She blinks. “Yes?”

You nod, fingers curling around her hair. “Yes, I want to be your girlfriend.”

Something shifts in her expression, something softer, something real. Her hands tighten on your waist, her forehead pressing against yours as she exhales, almost like she was holding her breath. “Good,” she murmurs, a smile playing at her lips. “Because I was already yours.”

Then her hands slip under your shirt, warm and sure, and you stop thinking altogether.

#barcelona x reader #x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso x reader

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sexlapis · 2 days ago

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A thud jolts Toji out of his sleep.

It was a quiet noise, barely audible to the average person.

But he heard it loud and clear.

He sits up immediately, blood already bubbling hot and pumping through his body. He reaches behind his pillow and pulls out his gun, then proceeds to slowly climb out of his cheap bed, wincing internally at every creak and squeak it makes.

Toji curses his past self for being so stingy.

This must be the day then. The day when somebody finally put a hit out on him and now some rando is out to finish the job and get their prize.

Toji wouldn’t make it that easy for them.

He didn’t make it this far, survive the brutalities of the Zenin’s, the loss of the love of his life and then, essentially, his child too, to be killed by some sucker who doesn’t even have the balls to face him properly.

Not a fucking chance.

Toji creeps out of his bedroom, inching towards the kitchen where the sound came from. It isn’t a long journey - it’s a small, shitty apartment he lives in and the rooms are barely even separated from one another.

As he gets closer, he hears it; shuffling sounds, like someone is looking through his things, through his cupboards and cabinets along with the occasional clank of a tin.

Is this just a thief? Maybe a homeless person? A cat?

He wasn’t going to wait and find out.

Quelling down the small itch of fear, he flings the door open. Gun raises, hairs standing up right. Ready to fight. Ready to kill.

There, rummaging through the cupboard is…you.

Definitely not a thief. Definitely not a hit man. Certainly not a curse user or a bounty hunter.

You stand there, frozen. Your eyes bulge out of your skull at the sight of the gun a few feet away from you. And at the tall, domineering man who holds it as easily as holding cutlery.

“Who the fuck are you?” Toji spits.

Your mouth falls open and no words come out.

You seem to be frozen in fear. For good reason.

The man in front of you is a tank - big, no doubt physically strong and could easily put you down without having to use the gun in his hand. And judging by the scar on his lips, you’d guess he is well versed in the world of fighting and brawling.

You’re screwed.

The guns clicks.

“I said, who the fuck are you?”

“I-I, I’m-“” You cut yourself off with quick, uneven breaths, “-please-“”

Toji looks you up and down, gun still raised and pointed right at you.

Then he realises he knows who you are.

You’re that person he sees everytime he goes out. He wishes he could be more specific, but it’s impossible because he really has no idea who on earth you are.

Sometimes you’re walking hurriedly down the street, eyes on the ground. Other times he catches sight of you in the alleyway, sitting on the grimey ground, asleep. One time, he even noticed you shoplifting from the shop of the nice old lady who gives him free hard candy, which he thought was a shitty thing to do, but it’s not like he can talk. He’s not the police.

Still. Toji knows you. Well, knows of you.

Other than your survivalist behaviours he knows not a damn thing about you, not even your name. Not your age. Nothing.

You’re elusive, hidden in plain sight, in the flashes of his peripheral vision, and right now, Toji has never been more confused in his whole life.

“What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?”

Still, you stare at him like a deer.

It’s getting harder for him to believe you’re a threat.

You gulp, hands raised in surrender. Your body trembles.

“I…I was…I was hungry.” You croak out. Your eyes quiver, going glassy. “I’m sorry.”

Toji blinks at you. He observes your old, worn clothes, your unwashed hair, the dark rings that paint your eyes, the tears that now streak down your face. The lines and dents in your face that are only carved by a life of hardship and pain. Then he sighs. He lowers his gun.

You’re no killer. You’re not a threat. You’re just hungry.

Whatever anger, fear, apprehension or hostility Toji felt towards you fades away with each slow breath of relief he exhales.

Now, as he looks at you in your ragged clothes and your wide, scared eyes all he feels for you is pity.

It wasn’t uncommon to see people like you in Toji’s line of work - the outcasts of society, the people who exist along the edges of civilisation, the ones who need just one more pill, the girls selling their bodies on the street to so-called upstanding men, the former soldiers who are payed for their service with a missing leg and a seat on the side of the street - people like you who walk along the cliff of society just waiting to be pushed off.

He sighs.

Toji could just tell you to fuck off, to get out and never come bask, to threaten you for real so you don’t do anything this stupid again.

Instead, he walks to his fridge.

You yelp at the movement, heart drumming in your chest. Your eyes squeeze shut. You wait for the impact of a smack, a punch, a bullet, a kick, anything, preparing for how you will get yourself out of this situation you walked right into.

You hear the fridge open and close. You can hear him walk towards you. Then he’s in front of you. His body heats wavers over you.

“Here.”

Your eyes flutter open.

He holds a package of tinfoil to you. It smells nice. Really nice. Saliva pools on your tongue.

You blink up at him, eyes wet and vision blurry.

Toji peers down at you. He looks bored.

Toji tuts. “Are you gonna take it or what?”

You alternate between glancing at the foil-wrapped food and at him, blinking wildly. It seems like you’re sizing him up a little. Trying to see whether this is some kind of trick, if he wants something from you in return.

Finally, which twitching hands, you clasp the food in your hands.

For a moment you both hold onto it. Toji’s big hands look almost comical next to yours.

He lets go. Toji almost thinks you’re going to drop it considering your weak grip, but you don’t.

You look at the foil-covered food for a second. You can’t believe this stranger who you only see in passing just…gave you food after breaking into his house. Now that you think of it, you should’ve been more careful, you aren’t usually so reckless. But you were so damn hungry, and you got caught shoplifting (though, you were let off with just a warning - they felt bad). So, you were desperate. And considering how things turned out, you got lucky. It could’ve turned out much worse for you if it was some other guy who wasn’t…whoever this guy is.

Toji goes back to looking through his fridge like you’re not even there. He’s probably looking to see if you took anything. You didn’t.

“Thank…Thank you.” You stammer out. Your teeth chatter.

Toji cuts his eye at you.

“Don’t break into people’s apartments. You’ll get shot one day.”

Your breath hitches. You give him a static nod.

Walking backwards, you look at the package in your hands again. The smile you give him is a genuine one, softening your tired eyes. You turn your back on him, running towards the open window in the kitchen and jumping out.

Then you’re gone.

“Fuck.” Tojj curses. “This neighbourhood is fucking crazy.”

masterlist

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vmlnrzmp4 · 2 days ago

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itoshi sae — how broken swings bring us back together.

the two swings which would function properly at the playground were now down to one.

sae met you by the swing. all little and innocent sitting there, unable to sway by yourself, but you enjoyed it nonetheless, when he and his little brother approach.

two little boys walked to you, the older one holding a football in his one arm, the other one holding his shy younger brother's hand.

sae's expressions stay mature as he asks you to move as his younger brother wishes to swing. understanding the situation, you smiled warmly and got down from the swing, stepping aside to let the younger boy take your place.

you looked at the football curiously, making sae smirk as he says that he's going to be the best stricker in the world.

"and me after niichan!" the younger boy chimed.

"rin," sae calls sternly, "don't butt in when elders are talking."

"rin," you parrot his name, "y/n," you introduce yourself, "and...?" you looked at sae with curious doe eyes, making a tint of pink appear on his face as he looks away.

"and sae."

years pass like the wind. one day, you're young and curious. the other, you are a beautiful 11 year old, receiving many chocolates at valentines day, all from one boy who sadly didn't happen to be sae.

the boy proposed you on the spot. right there in the school hallway, catching you off guard. but you politely told the boy you needed two days to think it over, but he remained persistent.

that's when sae intervened, with a firm tone, he told the boy to stop being so pushy and that you had already said no. the boy corrected sae, saying that you hadn’t officially rejected him yet. and that you had yet to figure it out in two days.

grumbling, sae took your hand and walked you away with him.

the two of you found yourselves back at the park. you were sitting on the swing, and sae stood behind you, giving you gentle pushes that made you sway back and forth.

sae broke the silence, asking if you were really going to say yes to the boy who had proposed to you. you replied that you might, since he had given you so many chocolates.

sae’s stopped pushing, bringing the swing to a halt. you turned to him, asking him what's wrong.

“don’t go out with him,” he says.

“why not?”

sae simply replied that even he could buy you chocolates if you wanted.

“so please, let me be your boyfriend.”

time passed. you and sae were now 13. and as sad as the moment was of sae's departure, he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, catching you off guard. it was the most intimate he has been after holding hands. and sae too, had a blush on his face with a boyish smile as he waves everyone who accompanied him goodbye.

it was a new chapter in both of your lives.

and oh how it ended...

years later, the two of you found yourselves facing each other, standing a few feet apart. the cold wind blew as it started snowing.

“we should stop seeing each other,” sae said nonchalantly yet firmly.

and you simply smiled, understanding his words. rin had already called you and told you about what had happened, so you didn’t question sae. you bid each other a goodbye, accepting and thinking that this really is the end.

but when now both you and sae were 25, you found yourself by the swings again at night, sitting on it just as you had done years before. but both broken this time. and there he stood in front of you, his expressions the same as when he had left. but it hinted something softer.

"hey," after a long time, it was him who broke the silence first.

"hey," you parrot, your voice almost a whisper.

an awkward pause follows, and sae scratches the back of his neck.

you shake your head, a small smile on your lips, "how have you been?"

sae looks at you, offering a nod, "i'm good...how about you?"

"i'm good too," you say, your smile widening despite what lingered beneath.

"stop it," sae says suddenly, causing you to tilt your head in confusion.

"stop...what?" you ask, your brow furrowing.

"stop smiling. i know it's not a real one," he says, frustrated.

you look down for a moment. and when you look back up, his heart breaks. your once curious innocent eyes were now teary. all because of him, "do you want me to cry then?"

"yes. cry. be sad," sae says, stepping closer. he gently cups your face with one hand, brushing away the tear with his thumb.

you place your hand over sae's, "why?" you ask softly. why. why did it had to be this way?

sae's leans closer to you, "i don't know." he wraps his arms around you, "forgive me," whispers an apology.

you rest your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat that spoke sincerity, hinting his words to be genuine.

the warmth of his hug and the softness of his voice spoke enough as you nod, and you could only whisper back, "i forgive you."

taglist: @anuverse @luciddre @kongkhoi @illyriakrasniqi2007 @passw-0-rd @x3nafix @levihanmyotp @vellichorira @sapph1r3x @tamashithe2nd @p1z-d0n7jud6em3 [open]

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matchatarot · 9 hours ago

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Hello Bunny! There’s a lot of beautiful things about you, but here’s the ones your person adore the most. You can adapt the reading to a friendship or a romantic interest, just take what resonates! To pick a pile don’t overthink it and choose the one that draws you in the most while thinking about the reading intent’s. Love, Matcha ♡

☆ masterlist

Pile 1 ₊˚.༄

You’re such a sweetie. Your person sees that you’re someone that has been through a lot. You’ve lost a lot and had to go through life changing emotional challenges that gravely impacted your mental health. The thing they love the most about you is how you’ve alchemized that energy and transformed into a loving and compassionate being. You still find emotional fulfillment out of life, you’ve kept the ability to give and receive love even through it all. They are completely enamoured by you and they want you to know that they will always be there to help you. They love when you ask them for help if you need it or they wish you did. They might have a little bit of a savior complex when it comes to you. They think that you can be hesitant when it comes to relationships, that you’re wary of people’s intention and that you wouldn’t just spend time with anybody. They love that you’ve decided to let them in your life despite this. If you guys are in some sort of union, either romantic or friendly, they feel extremely proud that you chose them, it gives them an ego boost honestly. They adore that you’re someone that follows your intuition, you might have anxiety but you still make the effort to rationalize your anxious thoughts when possible and manifest. Your faith is one of their favorite things about you. They also obviously love how beautiful you are! They think you’re so pretty and that you have pretty privilege, because they don’t understand how anyone could get mad at someone with a face like this, at least stay mad for long. Honestly, they really see you as adorable, they want to take care of you. Since you’ve been through so much they wish they could give you enough love to kind of make up for it. They also like how you’re someone that can admit your flaws and your errors. They love the sound of your voice and the words you use, they think you have a good vocabulary. Their favorite thing about you is that you bring light into their world, they see your soul as so pure. They think you’re so angelic, that your presence is a blessing.

Queen of Cups

Pile 2 ⊹˚˖ ☆

You’re so cool. You’re a go-getter, you’re not scared to take action. Their favorite thing about you is how determined, grounded and strong you are. You take care of yourself and your life. They love how you’re responsible, you’re someone they trust. They love how you’re not scared to philosophize, to think and discuss about difficult topics. Their favorite thing about you is how smart you are and how you teach them things. They really love how you always want to do better and bigger. You’re no bullshit when it comes to challenges. They love your ability to stay true to your decisions. Sorry if it’s cringe, but they think you’re not like the other girls or any gender. They think you’re better than the rest. They love how you give nymph vibes. Most people that chose this pile probably asked for a romantic relationship because they’re clearly attracted to you… If it’s not that type of relationship disregard that but I see that they want you. If you’ve been having sex they love it and it’s one of their favourite part of their relationship with you. They get a lot of pleasure from it and they love that you seem to love it too. They love the way you look naked. If you’ve been seeing other people they’re super jealous. If you were asking for a friendship, they’re also jealous of your other friendships. They want to always be the one having fun with you! You’re the person they have the most fun with! If they ever did anything that hurt you they’re so sorry, when you fight they want to go back to your right after. Maybe you guys sometimes fight and then make up and they love when you’re willing to forgive them and have a discussion. You’re not scared of being the bigger person, but you don’t judge them too much. They feel like they can be themselves with you. They really see you guys being in each other’s life for the long-term, they hope for it. They admire you, your looks and your mind.

Queen of Pentacles

Pile 3 ‧₊˚ ♡

They’ve never met anyone else like you. Their favorite thing about you is that you’ve offered them a new way to see life. They love how you’re free-spirited and spiritual. They love how you’re a leader. You lead by example. You guide people around you, they feel like you bring them clarity. Their favorite thing about you is how you offer love and compassion. They love how you are a peaceful person. You’re only in a competition with yourself, but even then you practice detachment. You’re patient and you have a strong mindset. They love how you manifest the things you want in your life with this powerful attitude. They want you all for themselves. They love when you want to see them and when you claim them as your person. If sometimes it’s time to stop hanging out and you say things like “no please stay!”, they really love that. They love partying and having fun with you. They think you’re the life of the party and that you’re good at bringing people together. They love how you don’t care about what people say about you. You let them talk. You might had to cut off family members, your person thinks you don’t care what your family think about your lifestyle and they admire that. You inspire them because you have a lot of general knowledge. You’re the type to know a lot of fun facts. They like the way you tell stories and how many stories you have to tell. They’re scared of losing you. They might have nightmares about you guys fighting and it stresses them out. They feel youthful and free with you. When they’re with you, they feel like it’s the universe giving them an other chance. Perhaps they had a lot of endings before you. If it’s about a romantic interest and you’ve never had sexual encounters they’re ready for that step. They’re in general ready for the next step in your relationship. They want to be able to try out a lot of new things with you. They think that if they stay with you they’ll feel young forever.

High Priestess

decks used for this reading: l’oracle du chemin spirituel by Valérie Defour & Valérie Saussez, modern witch tarot deck by Lisa Steele, amor et psyche oracle by Georges Barbier, les vampires oracle by Lucy Cavendish, mystical wisdom by Gaye Guthrie, oracle of heaven and hell by Travis McHenry

#daily tarot #pick a card #pick a pile #tarot #tarot cards #tarot deck #tarot reading #tarotcommunity #pick a picture #spirituality #relationship #free tarot #pac tarot #tarot witch #tarotblr

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teenidlegirl · 1 day ago

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⠀✸⠀⠀𝓑𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 𝓞𝐅 𝓣𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝓜𝐄𝐒𝐒⠀⠀┈⠀﹙⠀𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟏⠀﹚⠀ა ︎ ﾞ .

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀summary.⠀you’re nine months pregnant and your baby could arrive at any moment. you and miguel are excited until he’s called back for a dangerous mission, left to deal with the hardest decision ever, leaving you and the baby.

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀content.⠀angst, some fluff, pregnancy, heartbreak, arguments, emotional distress, firearms, mentions of violence, mentions of death, military shenanigans, sorta hurt/comfort

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter⠀ ❜

time has passed and you’re 9 months pregnant and your due date is three weeks away. while feeling utterly exhausted, you and miguel are excited for your daughter to come and start your life as a family. everything is prepared when the time comes. hospital bag filled with everything you need, nursery set up looking pretty for your baby girl, the entire apartment is baby-proof which was miguel’s doing. until you find another apartment or a house, which miguel has been house-hunting for months now, your apartment will be your home for your little family. you two couldn’t be more excited for this.

you, especially, are excited to pop out this baby because damn you are tired as hell. you told miguel no more babies after your first because pregnancy is exhausting. well, at least no more babies for a long time since who knows if you and miguel wish to have more in the future. he can’t blame you after seeing the exhaustion on your face during these last few months. but for right now, this baby is all you need and you can’t wait to meet her.

“i just realized we don’t have a name yet.”

you and miguel sit outside the patio of your apartment, sunbathing while enjoying a bowl of fruit. you wear a simple periwinkle babydoll dress with daisies, your large baby bump sticks out adorably in it. the bowl of fruit rests on top of your belly as a table, a tiny plastic bowl of course, easier to eat from. your legs rests comfortably on miguel’s lap as his large, calloused hands caressed them.

“oh, you’re right. we haven’t thought about one.” his brows furrowed slightly, thinking as miguel takes a few grapes from the bowl.

“all this time, three weeks until she’s born and we still haven’t thought of a name for her.” you giggle, munching on a few of your favorite fruits.

miguel huffs, grinning. “great parents, huh?”

you think as you feed him a strawberry. “any ideas?”

he ponders for a moment of possible names but nothing comes to mind. “not really, ¿tú?”

no ideas popped in your mind. “nope.”

“what about your name?”

you wipe off that smirk on his stupid handsome face by feeding him another strawberry.

“we’re not following that damn hispanic tradition of naming your first kid after you.”

miguel chuckles at your bluntness. “just an idea.”

“my sister wasn’t named after my mom because she hates her name and didn’t want to do that to my sister so we’re gonna do the same thing.”

“you hate your name?” one of his thick brows arched.

“well… no. i didn’t say that! there’s one person in this family with my name and that’s me.”

that elicits another chuckle from him. “i’m just messing with you, bebé. but i love your name.” he leans forward and leaves a soft kiss on your forehead.

you roll your eyes, shyly smiling. “thanks.”

while munching on fresh fruit, no name ideas popped in either of your heads.

“ugh! why is it so difficult to come up with a name?�� you slouch in your seat grumpily.

“we still have time, we’ll figure out something.” miguel reassures you, rubbing your swollen belly. “don’t stress about it, okay? it’s not good for both of you. it’ll come to us one day.”

a sigh escapes your lips. “hopefully.”

another kiss on your forehead. “for now it’ll be princesa.” his hand caresses your swollen tummy which results a kick from your baby. “she likes it.”

you hum happily, leaning against him. “i love it when you call her that, it melts my heart.”

his arm wraps around your shoulders, embracing you comfortably as his other hand grabs the bowl from on top of your belly and holds it. “i’m glad to know. she is mi princesa y tú mi reina.”

you lift your head up and look at him with a loving smile. “té quiero, mi osito.”

miguel’s heart flutters every time you call him that. you consider him your big teddy bear and he loves it. resting the fruit bowl beside him on the sofa, his hand gingerly cups your face as he leans closer and captures your lips in a gentle, loving kiss. your hand does the same and cup his cheek. the kiss is interrupted by a faint kick in your tummy.

you pull away with a giggle, caressing his cheek. “every time we kiss, she always kicks.”

“maybe she’s happy that her parents are in love.” a silly grin plastered on his face.

“they are and her parents love her.”

you and miguel go in for another kiss, resulting in another faint kick. you agree with miguel, your baby girl is happy that her parents love each other. you want nothing more than your daughter to grow up with loving parents and who love each other, to demonstrate a loving relationship.

later in the evening, you and miguel just finished having dinner. tonight was ravioli, a craving of yours which miguel had no problem making. he loves cooking for you, one of his many acts of service. you also love his cooking, he could be a chef as a side job. you told miguel once that he should have his own cooking show. he laughed and said that you should be the one with a cooking show, he adores your cooking. maybe a couple cooking show.

you rest on the couch watching a movie while miguel cleans up the kitchen. the man won’t let you touch or lift anything, just like throughout your entire pregnancy but is even more insistent about it since you could pop at any moment. in the beginning you were against it but not so much anymore considering your basketball sized tummy. besides, you get to watch your boyfriend maneuver around. admiring those bulging muscles ripple as he moves. biceps, shoulders, back, thighs. all so scrumptious.

once the dishes were washed and stored away, miguel makes a quick visit to the bathroom but not before leaving a kiss on your forehead then finally making his way over there. after doing his business and while washing his hands, he feels his phone vibrating in his back pocket. quickly drying his hands with a towel, miguel reached behind with a hand, grabs his phone and sees who’s calling.

‘IRONHEAD’

flash is calling him and that’s not a good sign. there are only two reason why he would call him: either for a mission or get-together with the team. miguel really hopes it is the second option even though he isn’t in the mood to go out, not with you about to give birth soon and he told the guys that.

exhaling deeply, miguel presses the green button and brings up the phone to his ear. it was a very long, hectic conversation. frustrated groans, mumbling, and swear words thrown around. it was so long that you eventually got worried since he has never taken that long in the bathroom. miguel knew you would eventually make your way over here. finally, he hangs up and heads back to the living room with not so good news hanging heavily on his shoulders.

you’re about to get up until miguel enters the room. the relief smile on your face falters when you notice his anxious expression. thick brows furrowed and eyes filled with apprehension.

“what’s wrong?” now your brows furrowed.

another long, deep breath of anxiety escapes his lips. “we need to talk about something…”

suddenly, your heart starts beating fast with anxiety. oh that isn’t good and honestly you’re scared. the moment miguel sits down next to you, the tension settles in. thick, heavy, and unsettling. both of you are nervous wrecks but miguel is more anxious since he’s about to tell you the worse news imaginable. he can already envision the tears of anger and frustration that will soon come in a few seconds.

“flash called me…” miguel starts off, his hand seeking yours and gently holds it. god, he feels like dying of anxiety. too afraid to speak the truth but mainly your reaction and where this conversation goes. “there’s a mission that i can’t back out.”

your brows furrowed a bit more. a mission, okay. the man is in the military, it’s bound for missions to come up. however, they can vary and the apprehension on miguel’s face say this isn’t an ordinary mission.

a shaky breath escapes his lips as miguel prepares to spill the unfortunate news of all.

“it’s in south america and… i don’t know long it’s gonna take and i have to fly out tomorrow.”

you feel your heart drop so suddenly. a plague of anxiety invades your veins completely, coursing through your body so viciously.

“t-tomorrow? what do you mean tomorrow?” you panic. “you can’t leave, not right now.”

“i know, baby, i know.” miguel squeezed your hand reassuringly, his heart breaking at your panic state. “i don’t want to leave either but i can’t back out on this, i have no choice—”

“you do have a choice!” you stand up abruptly, as much as you can due to your heavy tummy. “you don’t have to leave, miguel! you can’t leave!”

his heart continues breaking. “mi reina, siéntate por favor.” miguel tries to reach out for your hand to calm you down but you back away from his attempt.

“no, miguel! you can’t leave! she’s almost here and you’re leaving?! i need you here! she needs you here!”

he knew it would reach to this breaking point. you panicking, crying, and begging to him to stay. each cry is a stab to his heart. miguel hates seeing you cry, especially when he is the reason for it.

miguel stands up, a remorseful look in his eyes. desperate to reach out and pull you back into his arms. “mi reina, i know. i want nothing more than to stay here with you and be here for you and our daughter. i don’t wanna leave you two, it’s the last thing i want and i fucking hate leaving you. i told flash no many times, that i refuse to go. he understood, he and the guys don’t want to do this either but command left us with no choice and said the mission won’t be successful without me.”

all you do is keep shaking your head no, refusing to believe this is happening. the love of your life, the father of your child is leaving you for god knows how long before the birth of your daughter. suddenly, it feels like your world is crumbling. everything is crashing down like a paper plane. one minute you were enjoying fresh fruit and sunbathing while discussing possible baby names, then your boyfriend has to leave you and your baby for a mission in another fucking country for an unknown amount of time. how the fuck did things change so drastically?

“no, you can’t.” you keep shaking your head in denial as tears spill uncontrollably. “you can’t leave. she’s almost here, miguel. she’s almost here and i can’t do this alone, please don’t do this.”

miguel’s heart continues breaking immensely at the sight of your tears. it triggers his own tears to fall. “lo siento, mi reina. lo siento mucho.” he attempts to reach out for your hand and you don’t fight back, bringing you closer to him into his hold.

“miguel, por favor.” you look up at him with pleading, glossy eyes. “please don’t leave me… not again…”

fuck, that shatters his heart completely.

he left you once, broke your heart, broke your trust, and he forever hated himself for that. now miguel has to do the one thing he swore to leave do again, only this time he had no choice. now he hates being in the military. he has to leave you and it fucking hurts, especially to leave you when your baby will arrive soon. miguel doesn’t want to miss the birth of his daughter. he needs to be there for her, for you.

why did it have to be now?

at this moment, he hated being in the military.

“lo siento mucho, mi reina.” his calloused hands gently cup your face and wipe your never-ending tears. “i don’t wanna leave you and our baby. not again, mi reina. i’m so so sorry…”

your apartment is filled with the sounds of your sobs. both of you are crying at this moment. you completely break down and miguel doesn’t hesitate to pull you to his chest and embrace you tightly, feeling your trembling figure in his arms. afraid to let you go, doesn’t ever want to let you go.

the rest of the night was a sobbing catastrophe. the four walls of your apartment concealed with your heartbroken sobs and pleads.

what if he doesn’t come back?

what if he’s killed in combat?

what if, instead of celebrating the birth of your daughter, you are mourning the death of your boyfriend?

the excitement of becoming a family now ruined.

the day you and miguel have been dreading has come. the day he leaves for south america. since you’ve been crying all night, you feel utterly exhausted besides feeling depressed. you sat there in bed all miserable watching miguel pack up and get ready for his departure. every time your eyes meet, miguel had a guilty, remorseful expression. it pained him to see how miserable you looked. those tearful eyes silently begging him to stay, stop packing, dive back into bed with you, and stay with you forever. miguel hated this just as much as you do.

despite how much he hates to leave you, there is only one person miguel trusts to take care of you while he’s gone. he contacted his mother and ask her to stay here with you until he returns. the woman did not hesitate to agree and make her way over. you didn’t bother to argue, too busy being miserable. but truth be told, you actually don’t mind conchata staying here and helping out. you would love to spend more time with her, you know she’d do anything for you and the baby. she’s pretty much your mother-in-law. you agree with the plan. however, you still wish for miguel to stay.

through teary tears, you watch miguel return from the bathroom clad in all black attire. even feeling miserable, he still manages to take your breath away. he approaches the nightstand, opens the drawer, and takes out his pistol that he keeps here ever since he’s been staying at your place. protection purposes of course. miguel won’t take any risks, especially when it comes you and the baby. no harm has come yet the man is accustomed to securing and protecting. after checking the clip of ammo and putting the safety on, miguel shoves the pistol in the back of his pants and covers it with his shirt. his eyes meet yours once again but this time you look away, concealing the tears already spilling. his heart aches every time, so much guilt plaguing his body.

eventually, conchata arrives to see the heartbreaking sight in front of her. her son prepared to leave for another dangerous mission and her future daughter-in-law silently crying. you and miguel are in the living room by the time she gets there. she greets her eldest with a hug and kiss before approaching you.

“oh mija…” she gently pulls you into a tight, comforting embrace which you accept immediately and softly sob into her shoulder.

miguel observed solemnly, heartbroken for you and dreading his departure. he really doesn’t want to go, not to leave you crying and begging for him. he didn’t want this yet he was left with no choice. the ringing from his phone snaps him out of those depressing thoughts. a text message from flash saying he and the guys are here waiting in the car outside.

it’s time to leave, unfortunately.

breaking your embrace, conchata gives your arms a comforting rub with a soft reassuring smile before walking over to say goodbye to her son. miguel embraces his mother, exhaling deeply.

“té amo mucho, mijo. lo prometo. cuídate mucho, mijo, por favor.” she glances up at him. “make sure to come back to your family.”

you and your daughter. his beautiful family.

miguel silently promises to not allow his mother to lose another son, to not leave you a widow and single mother, to not leave his daughter without a father.

he will come back, he’ll make sure of it.

“lo prometo, mamá. té amo.” he plants a kiss on her scalp and embraces her one last time before he moves on to you, conchata stepping aside and turning around to give you both privacy.

instinctively, your head starts shaking as tears swell in your eyes for the nth time. “please don’t go…” you grip onto his shirt as if you’re terrified to let him go.

his heart continues to shatter. “lo siento, mi reina.” miguel’s strong arms wrap around you and hold you close to him, as much as your swollen belly allows you which is lightly pressed against his abs. “i promise to come back to you and our baby. i swear it, mi amor. i will come back to you both.”

his sincere words make you break down uncontrollably. you know miguel will do everything he can to come back home to you and the baby. you know he doesn’t want to leave as much as you do. you sob into his chest as his arms tighten around you, holding your trembling form. one last hug before he disappears for who knows how long. one last time to be with each other before parting ways.

miguel leans down, you reach up and capture each other’s lips for one final kiss. a kiss that you wish it could last forever. calloused hands gingerly cup your face. you grip onto his wrists tightly, afraid to let him go. savoring this one final kiss, savoring the taste of each other before drifting away. miguel gives you one last kiss then kneels in front of your swollen tummy and adorns it with loving kisses. your fingers gently brush through those soft brown curls one last time.

“i promise to come back to you, mi princesa.” he whispers against your belly, earning a faint kick which makes you both smile sadly. rising to his full height towering you, he cups your cheek. “i’ll come back to you, mi reina. té quiero tanto.”

“té quiero.” you desperately reach out to tug on his dog tags and bring him down for another final kiss which is sadly interrupted by miguel’s phone ringing, making him groan in frustration.

miguel whispers you a final ‘i love you’ before parting ways and grabbing his black duffle bag from the kitchen counter. you start sobbing more as you watch him preparing to leave. conchata turns around and approached you with open arms. sighing heavily, miguel turns around to look at you both one last time with a remorseful expression before opening the door and walking out, closing it behind him. you broke down once again as you watch the love of your life leave for the second time. conchata brings you into her arms and embraces you deeply as you sob. the four walls of your little apartment conceal the heartbroken sound of your sobs and wails.

your life is changed once again by a unfortunate incident. however, this time hurt much more.

that same guilty, agitated expression never faltered as miguel geared up and sit in his seat of the helicopter. his clothes covered with tactical gear. bulletproof vest, tactical helmet with night vision goggles attached, another pair of goggles that are ballistic meant for eye protection, his pistol as a secondary weapon stored the holster strapped on his right thigh, and additional equipment. a rifle in his hands while waiting for takeoff.

the rest of the squad are strapped in. flash next to miguel, ben and kaine seated across from them. as the engine starts, flash notices miguel’s somber expression which causes him to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. miguel flinched at the contact but immediately recognizes his teammate.

“you’ll make it back to her, both of them.” the blonde gives his teammate’s shoulder a light pat.

miguel sighs heavily, lowering his head with a head shake. “i feel fucking terrible leaving her. leaving at the worst fucking time imaginable.”

the blonde frowns remorsefully. “i know man, i gave command shit but of course they don’t give a fuck. lets just hope this shit isn’t a long one and you’ll be back in time before your kid comes.”

the brunette simply nods. miguel really hopes he’ll be back in time before the baby is born so he can be there for you when the day comes. sitting by your side, holding your hand in his as you welcome your daughter into the world. a dream he wants to come true. he’ll do anything to make it come true.

“appreciate it, ironhead.”

flash pats his shoulder a once again. “always, man.”

the helicopter finally takes off and the men’s journey to south america begins. throughout the flight, miguel only thinks about you. never once you left his mind. he knows you’re struggling with his departure but his mother is there to care for you. he knows you’re safe and being taken care of. but the guilt still lingers in his heart. he would rather be at home with you than stuck on this damn helicopter. however, miguel will do whatever he can to come home to you.

he won’t disappear forever this time.

𝓣𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @lovehadlovelost @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @asterrrrose @glossygreene @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff @chaeriescola @espressopatronum454 @trocaderoisyummy @totallygyomeiswife @mcmiracles @celestialgarden23 @tatatida @whdhjfjvjvjfjdhsj @nocturne-light @xenop0p @juneonhoth @ghostsdoll @marshmallowsforever @ibelyss @imissubaee @demonic-bird @fandomtrash5092 ( if you’re not tagged, age/age-range is require since this fic is 18+, context for reasons why )

#⠀꒰⠀𝜗𝜚 ֺ 𓂂⠀꒱⠀﹕⠀ℬ𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦 𝒪𝑓 𝒯ℎ𝑖𝑠 ℳ𝑒𝑠𝑠⠀.ᐟ⠀#miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #military!miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #across the spiderverse

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beans-core · 1 day ago

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Pardon my yap

But omg YESSS. Mortal Moms of the Prophecy Seven: Support Group. Impromptu therapy* sessions are encouraged and welcomed! *(disclaimer: no legit therapy-ing offered, just sympathies and advice.) AA confidentiality rules apply— “what you see here, what you hear here, when you leave here, let it stay here.” Rulebreaking is not tolerated, under threat of Godly Wrath (read: aphrodite). When shit-talking any gods, please refer to the nickname sheet. Use the fake name provided so others can still understand you while also making sure the god in question doesn’t hear and smite you.

Annabeth’s stepmom, Mrs Chase, is always invited, but she only has the time to show up every now and then, usually on weekends. The club helps her when she needs time to decompress without being alone, rant about her kids (all of them) to people who understand, and be reminded that her life isn’t as dull and monotonous as it feels sometimes— talking about how their children are demigods whose lives are based in Greek mythology helps with the last one.

Sometimes, because her only visitor is Hermes, the club will make a field trip to May Castellan’s house. One person talks to her to keep her busy while the others clean up the house and cook her a hearty meal. She doesn’t often mistake them for Luke because they’re adult women, but when it happens, they play along. She’s an honorary member whether she knows it or not.

It’s mostly just gossip and wine-time. An hour or two to unwind with no distractions or responsibilities, just chill. There’s a splash of book club too, added by (and for) Sally where they read awful books, dissect what makes them shitty, and point and laugh. Eventually, they all end up contributing an activity. For Esperanza, they have nights where she teaches useful basic machinery lessons and the occasional getting drunk and trying to build Ikea furniture without instructions. Mrs Chase is a good cook, but also freakishly good at baking, so sometimes they all work together to bake excessively fancy dishes/desserts and eat it all with drinks. they accidentally get really into making sourdough and now have what is the equivalent of a class pet jar of sourdough starter (they named it Rye-an).

Aphrodite attends once to check it out after hearing about it while snooping on her OTP: Percy mentions it in passing to Annabeth when she asks how Sally’s been doing. Aphrodite pops in with a flourish, they decide that despite not being a mortal, she can be a member if she wishes. She stays the whole time, and even though it’s tense and stilted in her presence, she loves it. So at the end of the meeting, she announces that instead of an honorary member, she’d rather be their patron god; she’s willing to sponsor and bless the gathering in the name of Aphrodite and Girls Supporting Girls if they make a small shrine to do a food offering every time they meet up. The club agrees (sweatdropping because what are they supposed to do, deny a god?), and that’s that. (During baking days, Aphrodite’s offering is part of what they made.) Aphrodite also says she’ll keep the club's existence lowkey— from Athena as well because that’d be “just so awkward, not to mention I already called dibs”. Her sponsorship/protection doubles as her being the executor of Ominous And Unescapable Consequences for anyone who airs out business told in club confidence. Gossip is great, but not when you backstab your girlies for it.

I think we deserve an alternative book where Esperanza is alive. Then she and Sally could start a club for mothers of Greek demigods + extra demigods they adopted

#went nuts over the Mom Club idea #so sorry about that #sally jackson #esperanza valdez #mrs chase #may castellan #aphrodite pjo #pjo aphrodite #the seven pjo #the seven hoo #pjo hoo #pjo #hoo #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #yap yapping

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wbbpls · 17 hours ago

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Platonic Plus One? (Chapter 4)

Paige POV

Pacing back and forth in their room, Paige is trying to wrap her head around how they ended up here. Azzi is taking a shower, so she texted KK, explaining the recent events.

KK: man...are you even gonna survive this week

P boogers: IM FREAKIN TF OUT MAN

KK: nah bro you got this just act like y’all normally do

y’all already seem like you’re dating anyway

P boogers: why did i even text you

KK: bc you a simp in love

Paige throws her phone and flops onto the bed. She must have done something wrong in a past life to deserve this punishment. Maybe it's because she argued with that ref too much last week.

Azzi walks out in just a towel and water dripping off her skin and holy shit. It was definitely the ref coming back to torture her.

“Hey P, what drawer did you put my PJs in?”

“Top right.” Paige sighs and covers her eyes with her arm.

“You sure you’re okay with this, Paige? I really don’t want you to be uncomfortable or anything.” Azzi fidgets with the end of her towel. Why does everything she does need to be so cute?

“No, Az, it’s fine, really. I just don’t wanna mess nothing up. Like maybe we need a timeline? Your parents on gonna be on my ass on why we didn’t tell them.”

“Easy, you asked me out like 2 months ago, and we were just say we figured they knew,” Azzi says so nonchalantly as if she’s had this ready her whole life.

“Woah, pause. Maybe you asked me out!”

“Who would actually believe that, Paige?”

“Okay, first, rude. Secondly, this was your whole idea to fake date, so you shoulda been the one to ask me out.”

“Okay, fine, I asked you out. No one would believe you made the first move anyway.”

“Bro relaaaaaax. I can make a move!” Says the girl who has never tried to make a move on her best friend she’s been in love with for years.

“Sure you can, P. Rizz em up.”

“Whatever, dude.”

“Also, stop calling me dude. It’s weird to call your girlfriend dude or bro.”

“But I call like everyone that it’s not weird!”

Azzi glared at Paige hard. “If I was your girlfriend and you kept calling me dude, you’d be sleeping on the couch.”

Paige put her hands up in defense, “Damn okay. What you wanna be called then?”

“Just like the normal gooey in love stuff like baby. Keep it normal.”

“Aight, Princess, as you wish.”

“See, you’re already being such a good girlfriend! My lil simp.” Paige throws a pillow at Azzi as they laugh. They both get ready for bed before Paige finally finds the courage to ask a question she’s been dying to know.

“So, uh, like what did you do for our first date?”

Azzi didn’t seem caught off guard, just thoughtful. “Hmm, I’d probably bring you to a drive-in theater because you’re weirdly in love with your car and talk too much during movies. Plus you love anything that isn't healthy, so endless popcorn and candy for my girl, of course.”

Paige’s heart just stopped. My girl. They haven’t even had to really pretend they’re dating yet, and her heart is already stopping. “Insults aside, that actually sounds pretty fun. We should do that when we get back.”

“You asking me on a date already, Bueckers?” Azzi smirks as she slips into bed.

Paige follows after her, rolling her eyes. “You wish.” They sit in a comfortable silence after turning off the lights. “Uh, you know people might think it's weird if there's no PDA. Like, as friends, we are pretty touchy, so I feel like some of your family might expect us to be a little more affectionate.”

“Hmm, good point. What are you comfortable with?”

Nothing and everything. “Down for whatever, Az. Like I said, we touch all the time already.”

“Hm, okay. So you’re fine holding my hand all the time?” Azzi slips her fingers into Paige’s hands.

“Already do.”

“Okay,” Azzi smirks in a way Paige knows means trouble. She has to be scheming. Azzi will take any opportunity to mess with Paige. Everyone else sees a confident and put together basketball player, but Azzi sees every side of Paige. Azzi moves her hands around Paige’s waist, looking down at her. “How about all the hugging?”

Did this room suddenly get really warm? Thankfully, the lights are off, maybe hiding Paige’s red cheeks.

“I uh m-mean we, yeah we hug a lot.” They’re so close at this point that Azzi can probably feel Paige’s rapid heartbeat.

“How about kissing?” Azzi says softly as she leaned in towards Paige, moving her hands to grasp the hair on the back of her neck. Paige is paralyzed, staring up at Azzi’s eyes. Paige tightens her grip on Azzi’s waist under her sleep shirt. No sounds can be heard but their soft breathing.

Azzi’s smirk grows, knowing she has all the power over Paige. “Careful, Bueckers, you might fall in love with me.” Too late.

Paige’s eyes flicker down to Azzi’s lips, and now Azzi was the one to freeze. They’re so close, and all Paige needs to do is inch forward the slightest bit. She’s imagined kissing Azzi a million times. Imagined what it would feel like and what she would taste like.

Azzi audibly gulps when Paige looks back into her eyes. Paige has never seen Azzi like this before, but she likes it.

Before either of them thinks it through, they close the gap. They were already so close, it's hard to tell who made the final move. It was soft and hesitant at first. They began to relax into each other, and their lips move fluidly against each other. Azzi sighs into the kiss and moves her hand to Paige’s cheek.

Something about the movement brought Paige back to reality, reminding her that this was her best friend. That she can’t fall deeper in love with her. That this is all fake. Paige gently removes her lips, but Azzi looks down at her with hooded eyes. It feels too real. Paige hears Kk in her mind telling her to protect herself. Paige could feel the walls building around her, needing to remove the moment's intensity. Needing to bring them back to their usual teasing.

“Seems like you might be the one who falls in love with me, Fudd.” Paige smirks as best as she can to lighten the moment.

Azzi still tries to catch her breath as she removes herself slightly from Paige. “Oh yeah? Sounds like yet another challenge you’ll lose to.”

Paige could finally release a full breath without Azzi on top of her. “That tends to be what you say right before you lose to me.”

“Alright, Madison, simmer the confidence now. We need to be up early tomorrow, so save some of that for tomorrow.”

Right, tomorrow. A day filled with lingering touches, kisses, and affection. A day that Paige can totally handle. Well, maybe.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Azzi’s alarm goes off, signaling them to start their day. Azzi shoves herself into Paige, trying to hide from the intrusive noise. Paige only knows this because she hasn’t slept. How was she supposed to casually fall asleep after kissing the love of her life?

How the fuck did she get herself in this mess? Oh right, she never learned how to say no to Azzi. The girl who smiles at her, and the world slows down. The problem with this whole plan won’t be needing to fake it. The issue will be needing to fake being just friends afterward.

“Mhmm, Paigey, turn it off.”

“Sorry, Az, but we gotta make it in time for breakfast. Mrs. Miller is kinda intense with this whole schedule.”

“You’re telling me.” Azzi smiles up at Paige and then shifts to slide off the bed and get ready for the day as if nothing out of the ordinary ever happened.

“Is the breakfast casual?”

“Yeah, wear a bathing suit underneath it because it looks like we are spending the morning at the pool.”

“Sweet, we can play mermaids!” And avoid thinking about Azzi in a bathing suit.

Azzi looks pointedly at Paige and laughs, “Just get ready, you guppy.”

“Here’s some orange juice and Fruit Loops as requested,” Azzi says lightheartedly with an eye roll.

“Fuck yeah, thanks Az.” Paige immediately attacks her cereal as if she’s never eaten before. In her defense, all the food last night was stupidly fancy, so can you blame a girl for being desperate?

“Baby, slow down. You’re going to aspirate on a Fruit Loop, and that's not a cute look.” Baby. Now, that might be what kills her.

Paige smiles up at her with a colorful mouth full of cereal. “Sorry, I’m just really hungry.”

Tim jumps in, “Bueckers, you always eat like that when sugar is involved.”

“Don’t cap! I just really like my cereal, damn...”

Azzi seems to be looking at Paige, processing something until it clicks and rubs Paige’s back affectionately. “Shit, Paige, I’m sorry I didn’t even think about the food last night not being your vibe.”

“Nah, I’m good forreal. These Fruit Loops are bomb.” As Paige finishes her sentence, Azzi’s aunt and grandmother walk up to say good morning. Azzi never moves her hand, but she does seem to have the slightest shift in her demeanor as her shoulders stiffen.

“Morning, Grandma! How’d you sleep?”

“Oh, just fine! Thank you for asking, sweetheart. How about you, ladies?”

Before Azzi could answer, Jon scoffed, “I’m sure no sleep was had in that room if you know what I mean.”

Paige chokes on a Fruit Loop in shock. Azzi glares at her brother and rubs Paige’s back as she coughs it out. “You okay, baby?” Jon and Jose snicker in their corner, enjoying how red they made Paige. Grandma Fudd’s face flickers in confusion at the term of endearment for a moment.

“Can’t believe I almost died because of a Fruit Loop.”

Azzi’s aunt smiles lovingly at them. “You two are just so cute together! I ship it.”

Jose is the one to step in this time. “Aunt Chrissy, where did you even learn to say that?”

“Oh, to ship them? I am cool and hip, you know.”

“Well, your old grandma isn’t, so someone fill me in.”

“When you ship two people, it means you love them as a couple.” Paige could see the wheels turning in the older woman’s head. She’s bracing herself for the awkwardness that might come next.

“Oh dear, I think I missed something. Are you two in a relationship?”

Azzi grabs Paige’s hand and smiles, “Yeah, grandma Paige is my girlfriend.” God, she wished that she could hear that on repeat.

Jose mumbles, “Took them long enough.”

Azzi whips her head towards her brothers, “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dude, you guys have been in love for like ever.” Azzi’s face is one of pure shock, and Paige is pretty sure even a sunburn couldn't make her this red.

To make matters worse, Grandma Fudd steps back in, “I must say I have to agree with your brother. I thought maybe there was something there, but Katie just kept telling me you girls are just close.”

Azzi sighs and puts her face in her hands. “Okay, can we stop analyzing our relationship and just eat breakfast, please?”

“Yes, yes, sorry, sweetie. It just all makes so much more sense why you never dated any boys. Oh, and poor Jonathan!”

“Oh, who cares! We want to hear all about how this all finally came to fruition!” Wow, Aunt Chrissy really does ship us.

“Azzi Fudd over here asked me on a date!” Paige smiles triumphantly, enjoying the side eye from Azzi. ”She made me a Tru Fru bouquet and brought me to a drive-in movie where she asked me to be her girlfriend.”

Azzi laughs at the mention of a Tru Fru bouquet. “Yeah, well someone had to have the balls to make the move.” Okay, ouch.

“Aight, chill, dude. I was nervous.” Azzi glares at Paige and shoves her knee when she calls her dude.

“Sorry, baby, you right.”

“Simp,” Jose mumbled under his breath while Azzi looked way too proud at the power she held in this moment.

“Bro, why does everyone keep callin me a simp today?”

Katie chimed in with a shrug, “You’ve been a simp since day one, Paige. It’s just more fun to say it now that it's official.” Azzi snickers and high-fived her brothers.

The rest of the breakfast continued easily. Paige always felt the most at home with Azzi and her family. They had been done eating for a while, and Paige put her arm around Azzi’s chair. Honestly, Paige does that all the time, so it’s nothing new. What’s new is how much Azzi leaned into Paige and her hand placement on Paige’s upper thigh.

People keep talking, and Paige genuinely tries to listen, but she can’t focus on anything but Azzi’s hand. Paige shifts uncomfortably, trying to deal with her inappropriate thoughts, which leads Azzi to move her hand up slightly higher when she turns just enough to look up at Paige. When Paige looks down, her breath hitches at how close their faces are, and she sees Azzi’s eyes flicker down to her lips before coughing and returning to the normal conversation. How can she be so nonchalant? Since when has Azzi been a world-renowned fake girlfriend actor?

Mrs. Miller enters the breakfast room with a mimosa on her way outside. Now Paige’s brain has shifted to finding where she got that mimosa. She’ll need some liquid courage to deal with the touching for an entire day. “Good morning, Fudd family! Please take your time and join us out by the pool.”

Paige stands up rather abruptly at the invitation. If she doesn’t have some space soon, she might pass out. “Uh, sorry, I love swimming.”

Everyone laughs at Paige endearingly, and Azzi moves to stand, catching Paige’s hand like it’s second nature and making their way outside.

Once they settle, Azzi removes her sundress, exposing her pink bikini, abs, and that damn belly button piercing. That piercing might be semi-responsible for Paige’s sexual awakening. In high school, it was easier to push feelings off and make excuses for their touchiness. But when Azzi showed her the new piercing, the way Paige’s body reacted was definitely not one for a best friend. Now, all these years later, it’s still that damn piercing catching her off guard like she got it yesterday.

Azzi grabs sunscreen, successfully removing Paige from her daydream. “Alright Bueckers, get over here so that pretty face of yours doesn’t burn.” Azzi straddles the tanning chair in front of Paige, without a care in the world that it’s just a tiny bikini bottom covering her. “Hmm, looks like you’re already getting red, Paigey. Let’s get this on fast.”

Well fuck.

#pazzi #pazzi fics #paige x azzi

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sibsteria · 2 days ago

Note

hi! just saw your 2025 rec list and that you write for spencer! i beg for a spence best friends/coworkers to lovers short lil sm sm (oneshot) if you're okay w that! also idk if you have a smosh/spencer series in the works but if you ever write one i can confirm I'll be your biggest fan love your fics can't wait to read more :)

@people-arelovers

Must be love on the brain...

Spencer Agnew x fem!Reader

Masterlist

a/n yes! absolutely, hello, hi, here I am- writing most of this in line for Pitbull tickets, dale (also combining two requests here, and I will absolutely be doing a series at some point fyi!)

Warnings/Content: alcohol, light angst, embarrassment, hinted pining, kissing, not proofread

Summary: A work's night out leads to drunken confessions...

''You don't have to drink to have a good time, y'know?'' Shayne shrugs at Spencer, his decision wary on joining the small group as he wasn't quite feeling up to a rager.

''There's not really a point in going to a bar if I don't drink, I'll just be surrounded by drunk people and feeling left out.'' He chuckles, he probably won't come anyway, his gaming chair is calling his name pretty loudly.

''Y/n is coming.'' Shayne throws it out there, he knew of Spencer's pining feelings towards the girl, a last ditch effort to get him to think about coming.

''Yeah, and I'll be boring and not drinking and- it's stupid.'' He runs a hand through his hair, thinking about you, how much he does in fact, love being around you.

''You know she doesn't care about that stuff?'' Shayne could almost feel himself rolling his eyes at his friend, how stubborn.

''Yeah...'' That's just one reason why he liked you so much, why you were his best friend.

Meanwhile, you were sat at your desk, having a similar conversation.

''I honestly don't think he's going to come.'' You smile, popping a piece of homemade hard candy Garrett had made.

''He might?'' Tommy smirks at you, he knew how you felt about the curly haired man.

''When has he ever, ever, come to a bar with us?'' You giggle at Tommy, shaking your head.

''There's a first time for everything.'' He brings up his hands, one forming an '0' and the other forming an 'I' before he puts them tog-

''Tommy! No!'' You whisper yell, you never know who could be around.

''Oh, come on, you want it. Live a little, Y/n, sweep that little nerd off his feet.'' He raises his eyebrows as if to say 'think about it'.

''Someone as funny and pretty and as cool as him wouldn't even think twice about me, we are just friends.'' You sigh at your own reality, how you wish it wasn't true, but beggars can't be choosers and at least you get to see his face nearly every day.

''You are so stupid.'' He saw the way he looked at you, as if you had hung the stars just for him, why are you always so stubborn? At least you and Spencer have that in common.

''Shut up!'' You squint at him, grumbling before you turn to your computer, time to get some work done before you can go home and shower.

You were sat at your vanity mirror, painstakingly applying some makeup so you look some variation of decent- the bags under your eyes telling a story of fatigue.

Your phone beeps out a message.

Message from: Spimgler

< Hey, sitting this one out, have a great time- miss you! >

Of course, but you couldn't blame him, a night in bed sounds a lot better than unwanted mingling with strangers right now but Tommy would have your head if you didn't come.

You down a glass of wine for your nerves whilst getting ready, you hate getting hit on and it’s not uncommon.

“Told you he wouldn’t come.” You grin at Tommy, you being right once again, although you wish you weren’t- maybe if he was here you wouldn’t feel so out of your depth.

“Yeah, whatever.” Tommy hands you a drink, he had been there a little while before you arrived.

The drunker you let yourself get, the more your mind wouldn’t let up on thoughts of Spencer. The smell of his shampoo as he leans into on one of the couches, the softness of his touch as hugs you when it all gets a bit too much to handle, the teasing smiles he shot at you like bullets when he tries to make you laugh. You get more and more sour as the night progresses, shooting down each potent bomb of liquor and strongly poured drinks.

As expected, just as you had unfortunately lost your group, you were approached by a man. But long gone was the slightly sober discomfort and combative attitude you would have once wore, a drunken mess of social embarrassment lies in its place.

“You know, my friend Spencer is so pretty-“ You hiccup, leaning with your elbow on the bar and cheek in your hand.

“Um, I asked if you wanted to dance with me?” The guy raises an eyebrow at you.

“I want to dance with Spencer! God, I miss him so damn much, I love him…I’m- I love him a lot-“ You frown, sniffling a little, why wasn’t he here right now.

“Okay…” He looks around the room, wondering if you were here all alone.

“Need to see him so bad, can you call Spencer?” You yawn, giggling as you imagine his adorable little voice.

“Not-not really, I don’t know this dude-“ He’s urgently scanning around now, he swore he had seen you with some people- a lanky brunette, a shorter blonde guy, a blonder girl, two dark haired ladies who were screaming at the table together where he first saw you-

“He’s so smart, y’know? So pretty and God, I wish he knew it. He’s funny…too funny for me- I love Spence-“ The man you were currently borderline harassing came into quick thanks as the lanky brunette neared you, clearly recognising you and starts to laugh at your words.

“Okay, okay. C’mon Y/n, stop professing your love for Spencer to strangers.” Tommy mouths a ‘sorry’ at the guy and he just half smiles, awkwardly- it was his choice to approach the plastered girl at the bar, anyways.

“Spencer…” You whine, dragged away by Tommy, your cheeks are flushed and you can’t even walk straight.

“Want me to call him, to come get you?” Although you harboured strong, strong feelings for the man- he knew he was also your best friend and could handle you in this state, and would also drop anything to help you. And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to meddle and progress things along- a hope you would possibly spill your guts to him. It was no secret that Spencer returned your feelings, except to you.

“Yes!” You scream in excitement, he walks you outside for some fresh air, you slump down on the pavement. Tommy calls Spencer from your phone, he’s more likely to pause whatever game he is playing to answer your call.

“Y/n, hey, you oka-“ His voice holds a happy tone as he answered.

“It’s Tommy, hey look, could you- stop lying down on the dirty street!” He yelps at you as you don’t feel like sitting upright anymore, “-could you come and pick her up? She’s a bit of a mess and honestly past the point of enjoying herself, just want her home safe.

“Be there in ten.” Is all he says before buttoning the phone down, Tommy sighing in relief- he just didn’t want you to end your hurt- you were actually pretty funny right now all things considered.

“Y/n, honey, he’s on his way.” He sits next to you, placing an arm around your shoulder, comforting you.

“Who?” You look at his completely quizzical.

“Spencer-“

“Spencer’s coming?!” You smile, dreamily, squealing a little, oh yeah, this was going to be a perfect disaster.

It had been just under ten minutes as he pulls up a metre or so away from the two of them, getting out of his car and heading straight for his best friend.

“Thank you, thank you! She needs a whole lotta’ rest.” Tommy stands up and tried to bring you up with him but you whine out, not wanting to move just yet. “I am so sorry for what you may be about to go through.” Although he’s smiling, indicating he is not sorry at all.

“Have a good night.” Spencer nods curtly, locking his car just in case before sitting next to you.

“When is Spencer getting here?” You mumble into your arms, head in your knees.

“Peekaboo.” An airy tone to his voice as your head shoots up.

“Oh- Spence!” You shriek, wrapping your arms around him tightly, though you had done it many times before- he still couldn’t help his heart as it beat a little faster.

“H-hey, beautiful, you doing okay?” You giggle as he talks to you, beautiful, he says.

“You’re the beautiful one, stupid.” You lay your head on his shoulder

“Oh, yeah?” He’s caught a little off guard.

“Mhm, pretty, pretty…” You sigh as you nuzzle into him, jesus, how much did you drink.

“I’m pretty to you?” He automatically goes for the teasing avenue, combatting how he feels with a joke.

“Obviously, I wouldn’t be in love with you if you weren’t.” You scoff as if it’s common knowledge, his mouth gapes open, he’s…what?

“What?” He repeats his thoughts.

“What?” You yawn, still happy as a baby on his shoulder.

“You just said- you’re in love with me?” He asks it as a question, you probably just mean a friendly ‘I love you’.

“Yeah…but you don’t like me back though, so it’s silly of me. You’re just so pretty and amazing and- I’ve loved you since I first met you…” You look as if you’re falling asleep, Spencer’s head is a flurry full of confusion- he feels like he should be hyperventilating right now.

“I…” This was definitely a talk for sober Y/n, no matter how much he wanted to tell her he loved her right now.

“It’s okay…I’m used to it.” It’s like you can’t quite recognise this is reality and not a nightly dream of yours.

“I’ll drive you home? Or-“

“Can we have a sleep over?” You blink up at him, wondering why you are seeing three Spencers.

“Sure…” He bites his lip, you were extremely cute like this, usually you would be so stubborn and nonchalant and cool.

The drive back is surprisingly uneventful, you practically passed out in the passenger seat, head against the window after he had told you you cant hug him whilst he drives.

“Your car smells good…smells like you.” You smiled at nothing, a patter of rain beginning to hits the windows, lulling you into serenity. Jesus, you can’t keep saying that shit whilst he’s driving, now all he wants to do is look at you and listen to the adoring words. Was how he smelled comforting to you?

He had managed to get you through his front door easier than expected, you were willing to follow his every word.

He gave you some privacy as you haphazardly dressed yourself up in a backup pair of pyjamas you had left at his house, he hears a few bangs and nearly opens the door to check on you but ultimately decides maybe that’s not the best idea- he wants to respect your privacy as always.

“Spence!” You shout, laying on his bed already, you were so ready to sleep.

“You ready to go to sleep? You got a brutal hangover waiting for you tomorrow.” He grins at you as your pout into the air.

“Ugh.”

“I’ll let you settle down.” He whispers, attempting to walk away. You slept in the same bed more than once before, whenever you had slept over but…he just knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep next to you tonight- repeating what you had said to him over and over again, overthinking and-

“Can you stay a little? ‘Till I fall asleep?” How can he say no as your sweet, tired voice tweets up at him.

“Till you fall asleep.” He confirms, his heard stammering as he moves to sit next to you, back against the headboard as you lay, you inch towards him touching his arm with you nose and he wants to explode. He can feel the air you breathe through your nose, hitting his arm as you slowly fell into slumber, a subtle smile on your face.

What was going to happen tomorrow?

Your head throbs as you stir, already feeling the nausea set in, your tongue sticking to your mouth due to how dehydrated you were. You smell something that you recognise, something that’s not your house…oh, fuck.

Memories from last night violently hammer at your head, or was that just the hangover? You fucked up so hard, you told him you love him? What were you thinking, clearly you weren’t at all.

Your eyes blink open, his bedside table catching your attention. There stood a big glass of water, some painkillers and…a note?

Good morning,

If you are reading this, take these pills before you leave the room, I can hear your headache from here.

-S

Was he going to be angry? Upset? Uncomfortable? Oh, god, you have ruined your whole relationship with him.

You do as he had said, slamming the pain relief in your mouth before washing the pills down with two thirds of the glass.

Maybe you could sneak out, facing your bad, bad drunk decisions seemed like a nightmare.

You creep to the pile of your stuff in the corner of the room, slowly changing into your clothes, not putting your shoes on yet just in case.

You pry open the door, peeking at the space outside, no sign of Spencer.

You quietly move towards the front door, you had gotten away with it- a loud creak sounds from a floorboard beneath you- nearly, you had nearly gotten away with it?

“Y/n?” He follows the sound to its source. “Are you…leaving?” He can’t blame you for wanting to.

“Um, sorry. It’s just-“

“Yeah, I know, you didn’t mean it- it’s okay.” Forever the respectful man he was, he never lashes out, never got angry- he just…pretended he was okay.

“Mean what?” You want to know what he thought, if you had embarrassed yourself as much as you thought.

“Look, last night, you were drunk and it’s fine- you were just being the best friend you are- you don’t need to feel sorry about it.”

“Spence….” You put down your shoes and your bag.

“You said you were in love with me, but you didn’t mean it like that, it’s okay.” The look in his eyes told you he was not okay, was he…upset?

“I-“

“Just- I’ll drive you home, okay?” He half smiles, trying to look normal, the room goes silent as you decide it’s all or nothing.

“I meant it…by the way.” You hold your breath, if you had read the situation wrong you basically just doubled down on the burning crash that was your friendship.

“You- what?” He stops putting his shoes on, looking up at you.

“I…I am, in love with you…” Your chest heaves a little faster as the tension in the room was becoming too much.

“You…are?” Shit, you had misread it.

“Okay, no, it’s fine- just drive me home, forget what I said-“

“I love you. Too, I love you too.” He can’t meet your eyes yet, everything was up in the air, a pressure on your chest.

“No, I- I love you. Like, I want to be the person you see every morning, the person you wake up to. I am so in love with you it hurts, you are gorgeous and smart and funny and-“

“Stop.” Your breath hitches, was this it now?

“Y/n…I think you are the most beautiful person I have ever had the chance to know, to be best friends with and to…fall in love with. You are the first thought I have in the morning and the last one I have before I fall asleep. All I do is think of you, what is she doing? Is she happy? I bet she looks pretty right now, like all the time. Since you spilled coffee all over Damien on your first day- both of your awkward apologies and the both of you being too kind to be angry at the situation. You…I need you.” He’s standing in front of you now, looking down at you with those deep-set eyes, it was also a perk you him that you were shorter than him- a rarity. You can’t speak as you relay everything he said, all you want to do is kiss him, and he is thinking the same.

You tentatively step closer, his head leans down, aching slow and unsure, your hands come up to cup his cheek and steady yourself on his shoulder as you lean up. Your lips meet and it’s one of the sweetest things you’ve tasted, that could just be the Kickstart, but he kisses you with such care and emotion- you have never been kissed like this. Or maybe you have but it’s never felt like this- like it was meant to happen, like you were made for him. His hands delicately find their home resting on your hips, your mouths moving together- kissing him deeper.

Neither of you seem to want to stop but eventually it gets difficult to breath through just your noses.

“So…”

He smiles at you, he had a feeling his life was just about to become beautiful.

a/n update! guess who won the ticketmaster war is seeing pitbull ft shaggy in concert? me, dale xo

#smosh spencer fanfiction #smosh spencer x reader #spencer agnew imagines #spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew #smosh #smosh spencer imagine #smosh x reader #smosh fanfiction #spencer agnew imagine #spencer agnew fanfiction

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