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sixxels · 10 days ago

Text

babydoll

frat!gojo x shy!fem reader !!

part 1 ! part 2 ! part 3 !

wc: 7.8k

disclaimer !! slight sukuna x reader, slow burn, fluff, angst/comfort, yearning satoru, whipped satoru, satoru is just so enamoured with reader omg. follows the ‘was i just a bet?’ premise!! eventual smut (most likely). reader is implied to wear very cutesy kinds of clothings and enjoys very girly and feminine things !!

the problem was that satoru gojo hadn’t stopped thinking about you since that stupid coffee date.

it wasn’t supposed to feel like this. he’d done this kind of thing before—charming girls, making them laugh, maybe spending the night if he was bored enough. but this? this wasn’t just flirting. it wasn’t a mission or a chase.

you were different.

and that terrified the hell out of him.

he sat on the balcony of the frat house the next night, legs kicked up on the railing, the bass from the party downstairs shaking the floorboards beneath his feet. a half-drunk beer dangled from his hand, and his phone sat untouched beside him—though he’d checked it three times in the past five minutes, half-hoping you’d text.

you hadn’t.

you weren’t the type to double text.

and for once, he kind of wished you were.

“you’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” suguru’s voice cut through the thick night air, lazy and smug.

gojo didn’t even glance over. “jesus, what are you? psychic?”

“nah,” suguru stepped outside, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, long black hair tied back messily. his black gauges caught the light as he leaned against the railing. “just watching you stare at your phone like a sad puppy.”

gojo sighed. “i’m not m—”

“moody?” suguru cut in. “bro, you’ve been pouting since you got back from that coffee date.”

gojo stayed quiet.

“so?” suguru asked, glancing sideways. “did you make any progress?”

gojo took a swig of his beer. “we talked. she laughed at my jokes, she's really, and i mean really cute. it was… nice.”

“that’s it?” suguru blinked. “you’ve got, like, four weeks left. you gonna kiss her or just make googly eyes until june?”

“it’s may 6th,” gojo muttered.

“and you’re behind schedule.”

gojo gave him a look. “you really think this is about the bet anymore?”

suguru raised an eyebrow, pausing. “…so you caught feelings?”

gojo scoffed, but the way he stared out into the night said more than his words did.

“fuck,” he murmured. “i think? man fuck this i've never done this kind of shit before!”

suguru let out a low whistle, dragging his tongue over his teeth. “you? satoru gojo? falling for some shy girl you haven’t even made out with yet? damn. the apocalypse really is coming.”

“shut up.”

“no, seriously,” suguru said. “you’re acting like you’ve never talked to a girl before. this is a whole new level of whipped.”

gojo set his beer down and ran a hand through his hair, messing it up more than it already was.

“she’s just… not like the others. she’s quiet, but when she talks, it’s like she actually means what she says. and she looked at me like she was really listening, like she cared. and she didn’t try to show off or flirt or get something from me. she was just… her.”

“adorable little coffee girl,” suguru teased, tilting his head. “you’re really falling hard.”

“yeah,” gojo admitted. “i think i am.”

suguru let the silence hang for a moment before pushing off the railing.

“well, that’s sweet and all,” he said casually, “but the bet still stands.”

gojo blinked. “what?”

“come on,” suguru grinned. “you said you could bang her by the end of may. that’s $2000 on the line. i’m not just gonna let you back out because you caught a case of the butterflies.”

gojo frowned. “you’re seriously holding me to that?”

“you’re the one who upped the stakes,” suguru reminded him. “you wanted to prove you could do it. don’t tell me you’re chickening out now.”

“it’s not about chickening out,” gojo said. “it just… it doesn’t feel right anymore.”

suguru shrugged, sliding his hands into his pockets. “then figure it out. either go all in or call it. but don’t string her along if you’re not sure what you want.”

gojo looked down at the ground below, jaw clenched.

“she’s not the kind of girl you mess with,” he said quietly. “she deserves better than that.”

suguru gave him a long look. “then maybe stop being the kind of guy who does.”

that night, gojo lay sprawled across his bed, one arm behind his head, your text thread glowing softly in the dark.

n/n 💗 : thank you for the coffee today :)

n/n 💗: i had fun !!

he stared at it for a long moment, heart thudding heavier than it should have.

he started typing.

gojo: me too ;)

gojo: wanna hang again soon? no coffee this time, i’ll try to impress you with my tragic lack of cooking skills 🤝

send.

he stared at the screen feeling slightly anxious. a reply came a minute later.

n/n 💗 : for sure :)

he smiled. god, you were even cute over text.

gojo : awesomeeee i can't wait! i'll pick you up outside the girl dormitories after your classes tomorrow!

he set the phone on his chest and stared up at the ceiling.

he hadn’t figured it out yet, what to do about the bet, how to tell you, how to stop feeling like the world’s most shittiest person for even agreeing to it in the first place.

but one thing was clear.

this wasn’t about the money anymore.

and if he wasn’t careful, you were going to be the one thing in his life he couldn’t charm, lie, or joke his way out of.

the sun was beginning to set when gojo pulled up to the dorms, low rays turning the pavement gold. he wore a gray hoodie over his alpha phi tee, sleeves rolled to his elbows, sunglasses pushed up into his white hair. he’d parked a little early, pretending it was just to get a good spot, but really—it was nerves. again.

and then you appeared.

you walked out of the dorm building like you’d fallen out of a dream: soft cardigan slipping off one shoulder, a pleated plaid skirt swishing gently as you moved, lace-trimmed socks just peeking out over black mary janes. you clutched your phone and blinked up when you spotted him, lips parting slightly in surprise.

god, you were pretty. almost too pretty.

you took in the sight of his very black, very expensive looking car, walking up to him shyly.

he leaned over and popped open the door. “hop in, angel.”

you slid in, offering a shy smile. “hello.”

“hey yourself,” he grinned, starting the engine.

you looked around his car, clearing your throat slightly. "you've got a really nice car, satoru."

he smirked, one of his favourite things in life was his car, so having you of all people complimenting it made him feel giddy.

"it's a Mclaren 570S spider, my baby."

you smiled at his obvious love for his car and looked at him through fluttered eyes. "it's very cool, gojo."

if he was a dog, his tail would be wagging insanely right now.

the drive to his frat was quick, and your eyes widened at how grand the front enterance looked.

"hope you like ramen, because that's all we got right now sweets."

his frat house wasn’t clean, but it had character. guys yelling over fifa downstairs, a wall of polaroids lining the staircase, beer cans stacked like a sad sculpture on the kitchen counter. you hesitated at the door of his room until he gestured for you to come in, flipping the light switch and kicking a basketball out of the way.

“welcome to my humble kingdom.”

you stepped inside, eyes wide as you took in the mess of it all—expensive sneakers piled haphazardly in the corner, basketball trophies scattered across his dresser, and posters of old anime's and old rock bands on the wall. somehow, it smelled faintly of expensive cologne and dryer sheets.

he scratched the back of his neck. “it’s, uh… not exactly pinterest material.”

“it’s very you,” you said with a giggle.

he blinked. “is that a good thing or?”

you turned to him, giving him a small, almost shy smile. “yeah. it's cool."

he looked at you then—really looked—and that tiny, pink, fluttering thing in his chest came back full force.

you wandered over to his desk while he started fiddling with the stovetop burner on the little kitchenette shoved into the corner of his room.

“so,” he said, voice casual. “i was thinking—gourmet instant ramen. maybe some fancy egg on top if we’re feeling wild.”

“so…” you said after a few minutes, propped on the edge of his bed while he stirred noodles, “what’s it like being frat president?”

he snorted. “exhausting, kinda. it’s basically babysitting drunk toddlers with big egos.”

you laughed and swung your legs back and forth over the edge of his bed. "i thought it was just about throwing parties.”

“eh, that too.” he leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you. “but i have to keep the house from falling apart, break up fights, stop choso from lighting the grill with a flamethrower again…”

you blinked. “again?”

he smiled sheepishly. “yeah, we lost a picnic table last semester.” you giggled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

then your smile faded just slightly.

“you okay?” satoru asked quietly, voice low as he stirred the ramen.

you nodded, but there was a pause that lingered too long, your eyes fixed on your lap. your fingers fidgeted in your lap.

“just… i used to date someone, who loved parties.” you murmured. “he was in beta tau.”

gojo’s movements stilled. beta tau was basically alpha phis rival frat. the quiet slosh of water and noodles was the only sound in the small kitchen now.

you didn’t look up when you said his name. “sukuna.”

a cold weight dropped into his stomach. his hand tightened around the ladle, knuckles going pale.

of course it was sukuna.

that smug, inked-up bastard with a mouth full of sharp teeth and a cruel grin to match. he strutted around campus like he owned it, dripping in designer clothes and superiority. gojo had always hated the way girls fell into his lap like it was gravity—like his name alone was enough to make people forget how rotten he was underneath. he wasn’t charming. he was dangerous, and not in the fun way.

and you… sweet perfect you... you were the last person he wanted to imagine tangled up in sukunas antics.

“he wasn’t very kind to me,” you continued, voice barely more than a whisper. “he’d always say the right things in public, always knew how to look like the perfect boyfriend. but when it was just us… he made me feel small. like a doll on a shelf.”

satoru slowly turned around to face you.

you still wouldn’t look at him, like you were ashamed, and for some reason, that hurt more than anything.

“did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice sharp with something unfamiliar—something cold and furious.

your eyes lifted, wide and startled.

“no. not-not like that. he never laid a hand on me. he just…” you exhaled shakily. “he liked having a girlfriend that looked good standing next to him. didn’t care what i wanted. what i liked. he wanted a prize. not a girlfriend.”

the silence that followed was heavy. satoru felt it in his teeth, in the pounding of his heart.

you looked up through your lashes, nervous.

gojo didn’t speak for a moment.

he couldn’t.

his thoughts were racing, hot and restless. the image of sukuna’s smug face flashed behind his eyes—tattoos curling around his temples like they meant something, all swagger and sharp edges. he remembered seeing him once, dragging some girl by the wrist through a party like she was furniture. wait... was that you?

his chest ached.

“he’s a fucking cunt,” gojo finally muttered, voice low and bitter. “a spoiled, narcissistic freak who doesn’t know how to care about anything that doesn’t worship the ground he walks on.”

you blinked at him. your expression was unreadable, unsure.

he rubbed the back of his neck, frustrated. “i just, i hate that he made you feel that way. like you weren’t… enough. you’re more than enough.”

a quiet beat passed.

your eyes were widened as you muttered out a quiet, “thank you."

he turned back to the stove, jaw clenched tight. his grip on the ladle loosened as he focused on the task again, but something simmered under his skin hotter than the water in the pot.

when the ramen was finally done, he ladled it gently into two mismatched bowls. he didn’t speak, didn’t push, didn’t dare reach for you, like touching you would break you.

he set yours down in front of you carefully.

and when you reached out, just the slightest brush of your fingers over his wrist, it was like the spark of something that had always been there, just waiting.

he swallowed.

he thought he’d known what this was. a bet. a game. something stupid between frat boys with too much ego.

but now, sitting across from you with your lips curled softly around the rim of a spoon and the warmth of your touch still ghosting over his skin, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

and he wasn’t sure he could survive the fallout when this all came crashing down.

you ended up staying for ramen, then a movie on his laptop, curled under one of his big blankets with your knees tucked under you. he let you pick the film, a cozy romcom he secretly kind of liked. and halfway through, your shoulder brushed his.

you didn’t pull away.

his heart beat out of rhythm.

he should’ve told you then, he knew he was too far gone to not tell you how this all started.

he could’ve said it was stupid—just a bet, just a frat-boy dare. that it was about the money until it wasn’t. that it wasn’t fair to you, and he knew that, and he was sorry.

but you were looking at him like he wasn’t the president of a frat house. like he was someone safe.

and so instead, he said nothing.

hours later, after walking you back and watching you disappear behind your dorm’s glass doors, gojo found himself back on the balcony. it was after midnight, the sky deep and dark above the rooftops, clouds moving slow like they had nowhere to be.

the door creaked behind him.

suguru.

he stepped out with two cans in one hand, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair tied low. “figured you’d be here.”

“figured you’d be asleep.”

suguru handed him a can. “couldn’t. my roommate’s snoring like a dying chainsaw.”

they sat in silence for a while. gojo sipped. the wind moved through the trees.

“so?” suguru asked finally. “you tap out yet?”

gojo’s head tipped back against the railing.

“no,” he muttered, replying reluctantly. “i’m still in.”

suguru’s eyebrows raised. “really? after all that poetic shit you were spewing the other night?”

“i know.”

“dude. she’s sweet. and i know you’re catching feelings.”

gojo’s voice was quiet. “i don’t know how to stop.”

“so why not just end it?” suguru asked, genuinely confused now. “i mean, yeah, i wanna win my $2k, but if she’s getting under your skin like this—”

“because if i quit the bet, it’s like admitting she was a target from the start.”

suguru was silent.

gojo exhaled, voice low. “and she doesn’t deserve that. she deserves to believe this started from something better than a fucking dare.”

“but it didn’t.”

“i know,” gojo snapped. “but it became something better.”

suguru took a slow sip of his beer.

“you’re in deep, man.”

“tell me something i don’t know.”

“okay,” suguru said lazily, “you’re also kind of a dumbass.”

gojo smiled humorlessly. “yeah.”

they sat a little longer, listening to the wind rattle the flags on the roof.

finally, suguru muttered, “just don’t hurt her.”

gojo looked out into the dark.

“that’s the one thing i’m trying not to do.”

the next morning came too quickly.

the sunlight was already pouring through the slats of gojo’s blinds when he finally gave up on pretending to sleep. the golden light did nothing to warm the chill lodged deep in his chest. he lay on his back, one arm flung over his eyes, the other resting on the rise and fall of his chest, which felt too shallow, too sharp. like his lungs had forgotten how to breathe without aching.

you haunted his thoughts.

he saw you when he closed his eyes—sitting on the edge of his bed in that oversized hoodie, hands cradling the ramen bowl he’d made like it was something precious. your knees tucked close, your fingers trembling just slightly when you lifted your chopsticks. he’d noticed. of course he had. noticed everything. how you hesitated before speaking, how you smiled with your mouth but not always with your eyes. how the word “sukuna” tasted like poison on your tongue, and how your whole body had tensed when you said his name.

it made something ugly twist in gojo’s stomach.

sukuna.

he hated even thinking the name now, though once upon a time they’d shared the same parties, the same reckless orbit of greek life. sukuna was one of those guys you couldn’t ignore—loud, magnetic, built like a devil with charm sharp enough to cut. everyone had stories about him. girls, mostly. none of them good.

gojo remembered one story in particular—barely even a memory now, just a flash of a scene. a party. loud music, dim lights. sukuna dragging a girl by the wrist through the crowd like she was some piece of luggage he couldn’t be bothered to carry. she’d looked shaken. small. he hadn’t gotten a good look at her face.

but now he couldn’t stop wondering—what if that girl had been you?

gojo sat up abruptly in bed, chest tight, the sheets a tangled mess around his legs. he raked a hand through his silver-white hair, breathing hard.

the worst part wasn’t that he hadn’t done anything that night. it was that he hadn’t noticed. not really. not in a way that mattered. back then, things like that just blurred into the background noise of frat parties. girls crying in bathrooms. couples fighting in corners. someone stumbling out with mascara running down her cheeks.

god. how many red flags had he ignored?

a knock sounded at his door.

he ignored it.

a beat passed, and then the door creaked open anyway. suguru never waited for permission, especially not when gojo was spiraling.

“jesus,” suguru muttered as he stepped in, two to-go cups of shitty black coffee in hand. “you look like a demon crawled into your mouth and died.”

gojo didn’t even blink. “you’re one to talk. you’ve worn that same hoodie all week.”

“five days,” suguru corrected. “and it’s called sustainable fashion.”

he crossed the room and dropped one of the cups on the nightstand before flopping down at the edge of gojo’s bed. the mattress dipped with his weight, but gojo still didn’t move. he was hunched over now, elbows on his knees, hands dangling between them, eyes locked on the floor like it had done something to offend him.

“you wanna talk about it?” suguru asked, taking a long sip of his coffee. “or are we just gonna sit here marinating in existential dread?”

gojo let out a slow breath.

“she told me about her ex, sukuna.”

suguru raised an eyebrow. “oh?”

“last night. while we were watching that dumb movie. she just… opened up. said he made her feel like a prop. like he only wanted her because she looked good on his arm. and when he didn’t need her, he’d just," gojo’s jaw clenched. “he’d drop her. ignore her. talk over her. like she was a fucking purse he forgot he was holding.”

suguru whistled low. “that tracks.”

gojo’s voice dropped, hoarse. “i didn’t know it was her.”

suguru frowned. “what do you mean?”

“i remembered this one party. he was dragging a girl out by the wrist, just yanking her through the crowd like she was nothing. i didn’t say anything. didn’t even think twice. but now—what if that was her? what if i saw that happening and i just… let it?”

he ran a hand down his face, the guilt pressing heavier now.

suguru didn’t answer for a long moment. then, slowly, he sat up straighter.

“satoru,” he said quietly. “you didn’t know.”

“that’s not an excuse.”

“no,” suguru agreed. “but it’s the truth.”

gojo shook his head. “i should’ve seen it. i should’ve noticed. i should’ve cared.”

“you care now.”

“i lied to her.”

suguru fell silent.

gojo stood up suddenly, the coffee still untouched on the nightstand. he began pacing, his bare feet whispering across the hardwood floor.

“she was so honest with me, man. sat there in my bed and told me about the worst parts of herself—about how she felt like she was broken after him. and i just sat there, playing the good guy, letting her think i was different. letting her believe in me. when the whole reason i even talked to her was because of a fucking bet.”

the word hit like a punch.

suguru leaned back on his hands, watching his friend come apart.

“you still haven’t told her.”

gojo let out a bitter laugh. “how the hell do i tell her that, suguru? ‘hey, remember when i bumped into you at the café? yeah, turns out i only asked you out because you were part of a game i was trying to win’? that won’t hurt her. that’ll ruin her.”

suguru didn’t argue.

gojo stopped pacing, facing the window now, watching students pass by on the sidewalk outside. people laughing, sipping iced coffees, dragging skateboards behind them. the world kept turning, oblivious to the storm in his chest.

“i think i’m in love with her.”

it came out quietly. like a confession. like a truth he hadn’t been ready to say until this exact moment.

suguru blinked. “you think?”

gojo smiled humorlessly. “i know.”

silence settled between them. suguru finally stood, grabbing the untouched coffee and offering it out to gojo like a peace offering.

“you’re in deep, huh?”

gojo took the cup without meeting his eyes. “drowning.”

meanwhile, in your dorm room, you sat curled up on your twin bed, your legs tucked under a fleece throw blanket, your favorite oversized mug cupped in both hands. the tea inside had gone cold a while ago, but you hadn’t noticed. you were staring at gojos contact reminiscing about what he had said to you before letting you go off to your dorm.

'thanks for trusting me with that. you’re not broken. you’re still here. that matters more than anything. sleep well, angel.'

you’d been thinking about that for almost ten minutes, trying not to cry.

the word angel shouldn’t have made your heart skip. but it did.

you didn’t know what this was, what you and gojo were becoming, but for the first time in months, maybe years, you felt like you could breathe. like someone actually saw you, the real you, not just the version that looked good in pictures or sounded impressive on paper.

and that terrified you.

because you’d believed sukuna, too. once.

you’d fallen for his smile, his confidence, the way he made you feel like you were the center of the universe, until you weren’t. until you were just another trophy. another girl to brag about. another reason for people to envy him.

you still remembered the way he’d spoken to you in public—possessive, controlling, sometimes mocking—and how quickly he could flip the script when you tried to call him out.

'you’re being too sensitive. don’t embarrass me like that. you should be grateful i even brought you.'

it had taken so long to untangle yourself from him. and longer still to stop blaming yourself for the way he’d treated you.

but last night, when gojo looked at you, really looked at you, it didn’t feel like pity or lust or even casual interest. it felt like something quiet. steady. real.

you didn’t know what to do with that.

your phone buzzed.

gojo: you awake?

you smiled before you could stop yourself, thumbing a reply with hesitant fingers.

n/n 💗 : barely. why?

gojo: sweet! i owe you another ramen night. but this time i’ll actually let you pick the movie.

your heart did a little backflip. you pulled the blanket tighter around you, cheeks warm.

n/n 💗 only if you promise not to fall asleep halfway through.

gojo: i can’t promise that. but i can promise snacks ! 😁

you laughed, the sound breaking the stillness of your room like sunlight through fog.

maybe this was real.

maybe, just maybe, gojo was exactly who he seemed.

and maybe that scared you even more than sukuna ever did.

the night went by fast, it always did with satoru. like the one previous you had spent it eating snacks and watching movies on his bed huddled infront of a laptop. now, most don't find watching random romcoms in a frat guys room very appealing, but to you it felt safe, like a home away from home.

he was your home away from home.

now, you were walking with satoru around campus as you had planned over text about an hour ago.

the midday sun hung lazily over campus, casting a hazy golden warmth across the walkways and tree-lined paths. students moved around like streams of color—some laughing in groups, others rushing to class, earbuds in, eyes down. but in the middle of it all, it felt like just the two of you.

you walked quietly beside gojo, your small hand brushing the edge of his hoodie now and then when your steps got too close. he didn’t mind. he never did. if anything, he leaned into it, like it soothed something in him just to be near you. he adjusted his stride to match yours without thinking, even though his legs were long enough to cross campus in five minutes flat.

but he didn’t want fast. he wanted this. you.

you were heading to your bio class, and he had no reason to be anywhere near the science building. but he still showed up at the café ten minutes before your lecture started, hands in his pockets, grinning like it was the best part of his day. because it was.

and god, you were so pretty when you looked surprised to see him. like you didn’t expect someone like him to show up for someone like you.

but that was the thing. he’d never met anyone like you.

“you really don’t have to walk me every time,” you murmured, eyes low, voice soft and unsure. like you didn’t want to seem like a burden.

and it killed him. how you always shrank yourself, always made yourself smaller—as if your presence was anything less than his favorite fucking thing.

“yeah, but then who’s gonna make sure you don’t trip over your own shadow?” he teased gently.

you let out a quiet laugh, tucking your hair behind your ear. your fingers were delicate, your smile bashful, and gojo felt the urge to say something completely insane like marry me.

he didn’t, obviously. but it lived in his throat.

he watched you with the kind of attention he never gave anything else. memorized the curve of your cheek, the soft press of your lips when you were thinking, the way you glanced at him like you were still trying to believe he was real. and when you looked away, flustered by your own laugh, he swore the sun hit you different.

you were always cute. painfully cute. but in that moment? he was dizzy with it.

“besides,” he added, smirking, “how else am i supposed to get my daily dose of cuteness?”

your steps slowed. “what?”

“you heard me,” he said, bumping your shoulder. “you’re good for my blood pressure or whatever.”

you shook your head, blushing so hard you could barely walk straight. and he could’ve died right there. from the way you smiled at your shoes, from how shy you looked just standing next to him. like he wasn’t completely, pathetically obsessed with you already.

he wanted to tell you you were beautiful.

not just hot, not the kind of thing he said to girls at parties, not anything casual. but soft. lovely. untouchable. yours is the kind of face you write songs about. you look like you belong in someone’s arms at sunset.

he wanted to tell you he dreamed about you.

he wanted to tell you he was in love with you, probably more than he should be.

but all he said was, “i think we should watch the kissing booth next time you come over.”

you smiled, small and bashful again, and it tugged something deep in his chest. something real.

and as you walked in companionable silence, gojo glanced down at you. at your long lashes, the curve of your mouth, the way you hugged your books to your chest like a shield. you were so soft. so careful. like you were afraid of taking up space.

but he saw everything.

he saw the way you tried to be brave, even when you were scared. he saw how you still smiled, still tried, even when the world had been cruel to you.

he wanted to wrap you up and protect you from everything. from the past, from shitty exes, from the version of himself that used to not care about anyone or anything.

you made him care.

and that terrified him. because there was still something he hadn’t told you.

“can i ask you something?” he said suddenly, voice quieter now.

“of course, satoru."

he swallowed. “would you… hate me if i wasn’t exactly who you thought i was?”

your wide eyes met his. soft. concerned. not an ounce of judgment.

“hmm? what do y' mean?”

he stopped walking. the sun filtered through the leaves above, casting shadows across your face like a painting.

“what if i told you i’ve made mistakes?” he said. “like, bad ones. the kind that make you want to erase yourself and start over.”

your fingers clutched your book tighter, but you didn’t flinch.

“i think we all have those kinds of mistakes,” you said gently. “but that doesn’t make you a bad person. just human.”

and gojo, god he felt like the ground had disappeared under him.

because you meant it. even without knowing the truth. even with your soft voice and your shy little glances and the way you stood so close, so trusting. you believed in him. still.

he never wanted to break that look in your eyes.

“i never want to hurt you,” he whispered.

you reached out, fingers trembling a little as they curled around his wrist. so delicate. so warm.

“if it’s something from before…” you said, barely above a whisper. “you can tell me. i won’t run away.”

you probably meant it, too. even though your heart was fragile, even though your past left you aching in ways you didn’t talk about, you were still reaching for him.

and that… god, that broke him. he stared at your hand. you were so small. so good. too good for him. and yet… here you were.

he should’ve told you right then. ripped it off like a band-aid.

but all he could think about was how beautiful you looked when you trusted him. how sweet your voice sounded when you called him satoru. how much it would hurt when that melted into betrayal.

so instead, he smiled.

“you’re dangerous when you talk like that,” he said, voice light again. “i’m two seconds from spilling my soul.”

you tilted your head, unconvinced. “satoru…”

he grinned. “i promise i’ll tell you. just not today.”

you hesitated, then nodded slowly. “okay. but i’m holding you to it.”

his chest twisted.

you shouldn’t be so kind to him.

but you were.

and it made him want to be worthy of you.

“deal,” he said. and as you started walking again, he let his hand brush yours. not quite holding it. but close.

close enough that maybe, just maybe you could still forgive him when the truth finally came out.

because he already knew:

he loved you.

he loved you more than anything else in this fucked up world.

and he’d do anything to keep that look in your eyes a little longer.

it started with suguru flopping onto the leather couch in the alpha phi common room, yawning like he hadn’t just come from class.

“so,” he said, cracking open a cold can of something carbonated and probably stolen from the communal fridge. “are you ever gonna introduce her to the rest of us, or are you just gonna keep hiding your little girlfriend away like a dragon hoarding treasure?”

gojo didn’t even look up from his phone. he was already typing out his good morning text to you.

“first of all,” he said, thumbs moving fast, “she’s not my girlfriend.”

“right,” suguru drawled. “you just text her twenty-four seven, walk her to class, and cancel beer pong night so you can rewatch spirited away on your couch with her.”

“it’s a good movie,” gojo muttered.

“you hate that movie.”

“i like it now.”

suguru snorted, propping his feet up on the table. “you’re gone, man.”

gojo leaned back in his seat, a lopsided grin creeping over his face despite himself. he didn’t bother denying it. what was the point?

movie nights had started casually. he’d invited you over under the pretense of “redeeming your taste in cinema.” you’d blushed and giggled, tugging your sleeves over your hands and asking, “does that mean you’re gonna make me watch transformers?”

“don’t tempt me,” he’d said, already queuing it up.

but instead, you’d picked soft, strange little films—quiet ones with too many close-ups and too little dialogue. and something about sitting on the worn-out alpha phi couch with you, shoulders just barely touching, watching the flicker of light dance over your face as you whispered, “this part always makes me cry,” had rewired his brain entirely.

you’d grown braver, little by little.

the first night, you’d sat on the far end of the bed, legs curled beneath you, body coiled tight like you expected to be mocked or judged at any moment. gojo had kept the mood light, cracking jokes, tossing popcorn at your head, playing the fool.

but by the third night, you’d fallen asleep with your cheek on his shoulder.

and he hadn’t moved. not for an hour. not even when his arm went numb. not even when suguru walked in, saw you, and mouthed simp before tiptoeing out.

by the fourth night, you were wearing one of his hoodies.

and by the fifth, you were stealing all his blankets and kicking him when he tried to take them back.

it was getting bad. it was getting real.

so when suguru pushed again, raising a brow over the rim of his can and saying, “i’m serious, you should bring her to the party this weekend. the guys are starting to think you made her up,” gojo didn’t roll his eyes this time.

gojo narrowed his eyes. “what do you think of her? isn't she in your ethics?"

“quiet. polite. smart. a little skittish.”

he meant it kindly, but gojo’s jaw tensed anyway. “she’s been through some shit.”

“i figured.”

“sukuna.”

suguru winced. “fuck.”

“yeah.”

there was a beat of silence. then suguru said, “you like her.”

gojo didn’t answer. he didn’t have to.

“bring her,” suguru said, softer now. “if you’re serious. let her see that not all frat guys are trash.”

gojo looked down at his phone again, at your name on the screen, at the little pink heart next to it. then he nodded, almost to himself.

“yeah,” he said. “okay.”

you met up on thursday afternoon, by the west quad fountain where the sun always hit just right and the flower beds looked like something out of a disney movie. gojo was already there when you arrived, leaning against the stone ledge, phone in hand.

“i was starting to think you stood me up,” he teased as you approached.

you tucked your chin down shyly, smiling. “you’re five minutes early.”

“and you’re three minutes late.”

you rolled your eyes, and he grinned. god, you were cute. the cute jeans you wore today captured your curved hips perfectly, and your lip gloss shimmered when the light caught it. your hair was tied back loosely with a ribbon that matched your cute sweater.

he wanted to bottle you up. keep you. never let anything hurt you again.

“so,” he said, hands in his hoodie pockets, “my frat’s throwing a party this weekend.”

you froze, just slightly.

“you… want me to come?” you asked.

he tilted his head. “only if you want to. no pressure. i just... my friends wanna meet you.”

you looked down at your shoes, worrying your bottom lip. he noticed. of course he did.

“you don’t have to wear anything crazy,” he added quickly. “it’s chill. no themes. just music and drinks and—”

“i want to,” you said quietly.

he blinked. “yeah?”

you nodded. “i just… don’t have anything to wear.”

you didn’t say it like a joke. you said it like a confession.

gojo softened. “wanna show me what you’ve got? we can pick something together.”

you hesitated, then nodded.

“okay.”

your dorm was adorable. pink. soft.

he took it all in the second he stepped inside. the plush pillows shaped like hearts, the lace curtains, the fuzzy white rug by your bed. shelves lined with figurines, pastel notebooks stacked in a corner, fairy lights framing your mirror.

it smelled like strawberries and vanilla and something floral he couldn’t name.

“holy shit,” he breathed. “this is the cutest room i've ever seen."

you laughed, cheeks warming. “sorry. it’s a lot, huh?”

“no,” he said, spinning in a slow circle. “it’s so you.”

he meant it. he loved it. he loved you.

you opened your closet and began sifting through hangers, pulling out a couple of outfits and holding them up for inspection.

“i don’t really wanna wear something… like this,” you said, voice softer now as you held up a tight, low-cut mini dress. “i used to wear stuff like this to sukuna’s parties. because he liked it.”

gojo’s jaw clenched.

“he used to pick what i wore,” you continued, almost like you were talking to yourself. “he said it made me look ‘fuckable.’”

gojo stepped forward, gentle but firm.

“you don’t ever have to wear something like that again,” he said. “not for me. not for anyone.”

you looked up at him, eyes glassy.

“wear what makes you feel good,” he added. “what makes you feel safe.”

you nodded slowly, turning back to your closet.

in the end, you chose what made you feel the most comfortable.

“i'll just wear this,” you said. "feels normal."

gojo beamed.

“then it’s perfect.”

you didn’t know it yet, but he’d already cleared it with suguru. made sure the music wouldn’t be too loud, that the crowd wouldn’t be too rowdy, that you’d have somewhere to sit if you got overwhelmed. he was thinking ten steps ahead.

because he didn’t want this to be like sukuna’s parties.

he wanted this one to be yours.

you heard the party before you saw it, music pulsing through the ground, the kind of bass-heavy beat that made your ribs vibrate and your bones feel hollow. the frat house loomed ahead like a palace of chaos: lights flashing from the second-story windows, silhouettes flitting past the curtains, laughter and shouting spilling out through the open door.

you paused just outside, nerves buzzing like static under your skin.

“whoa,” you breathed, fingers tightening around the sleeve of gojo’s hoodie. “it’s… a lot.”

he looked down at you with that soft, easy smile, his hand coming to rest between your shoulder blades. “it is a lot,” he agreed. “want to run? we can say we got kidnapped by squirrels.”

you laughed despite yourself, the sound shaky but genuine. “tempting.”

his palm made slow, reassuring circles against your back. “we’ll take it slow, yeah? you’re with me.”

you nodded, and with that, gojo led you up the steps.

the moment the two of you crossed the threshold, the temperature changed. warmth and sweat and alcohol thick in the air. bodies pressed together, shoulder to shoulder, a sea of red solo cups and hazy eyes. someone yelled gojo’s name, and the room shifted.

it was like time stopped for half a second.

then the crowd surged, boys calling out, heads turning, eyes locking on the tall, white-haired frat boy walking in with someone clinging gently to his sleeve. someone who wasn’t tall or loud or a blonde girl in a skin-tight mini dress. someone who didn’t fit the mold of “gojo satoru’s usual.”

someone who was you.

“no fucking way,” one guy barked, elbowing his friend. “is that—?”

“holy shit, gojo’s got a girlfriend?”

“what happened to the dumb cheerleader from gamma?”

the murmurs spread like wildfire. you felt them, even if you couldn’t catch every word. the stares burned hot, and suddenly your skin felt too tight.

but gojo just grinned like he didn’t notice, or didn’t care.

he dipped down, lips brushing your ear. “ignore them. they’ve never seen a real girl before.”

you flushed, gripping his arm tighter.

the house was bigger inside than it looked, sprawling with rooms that all bled into one another. the main floor was packed, but gojo expertly steered you through the chaos, guiding you toward a quieter alcove near the stairs. you could tell he was trying to give you a second to breathe.

“there he is!” a voice called, and suguru appeared from the crowd, hair tied back, black gauges catching the light. he was nursing a beer and wearing that same smirk he always had in class, cool, unbothered, like nothing could ever surprise him.

but when his eyes landed on you, they lit up with something close to recognition.

“hey,” he said, stepping forward. “ethics class, right?”

you blinked, this was the guy you used to have abit of a crush on before gojo... “yeah... geto?”

he nodded, and you relaxed just a little. suguru was quiet in class, but he always had a pen behind his ear and never made you feel stupid when you got nervous speaking up.

“i knew gojo was full of shit when he said he was just ‘casually seeing someone,’” suguru said, glancing at his friend with a teasing grin. “but damn, you’re even cuter in person.”

your cheeks flamed. gojo rolled his eyes and slung an arm around your shoulder, tugging you close like he could shield you from the world.

you and gojo never really established what you were, but now you at least knew he was telling people you two were 'seeing eachother.'

“back off,” he said with a mock growl. “she’s fragile. like a baby deer.”

“she’s not fragile,” suguru said mildly, giving you a wink. “but she does look like adorably clueless.”

you laughed at that, and suguru grinned, satisfied.

a few more of gojo’s frat brothers filtered over. nanami, with his blond hair and sharp eyes; toji, towering and terrifying until he said something about how “adorable” your shoes were; even shoko, the only girl in the group, who gave you a once-over and muttered, “thank god. i was starting to think gojo only liked girls who talked in hashtags.”

they were loud and teasing, but none of them made you feel the way sukuna’s crowd used to.

sukuna’s parties had been darker somehow. colder. always something bitter in the air. you remembered standing in corners alone while he disappeared, remembered the way he used to show you off like a new toy. like you were there to prove a point. he used to demand you wear short skirts, high heels, tops that made you feel naked. he’d touch your thigh too hard when you sat, whisper in your ear things that made you gross small.

you’d show up already tense, already braced.

but this? this was different.

you looked up at gojo now, laughing at something suguru said, and your chest ached.

he’d asked what you wanted to wear. had told you you looked beautiful even when you were wrapped in a cardigan. he’d helped you tie the ribbon in your hair and kissed your forehead like it was sacred.

you were still nervous, still out of your element—but you weren’t scared.

gojo nudged you gently. “want a drink? something mild?”

you nodded, and he guided you toward the kitchen, never letting his hand leave yours.

he poured you a soda himself, skipping the sketchy jungle juice, and brought you a paper straw because you’d mentioned once that plastic ones made your teeth feel weird. then he leaned against the counter, watching you sip like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“you’re killin’ me, y’know,” he said casually.

you blinked. “what?”

“look at you.” his voice dropped, all affection. “walking in here like a dream in that little dress. making everyone fall in love with you. it’s rude, honestly.”

you ducked your head, overwhelmed. “stop…”

“can’t,” he said, and then leaned down, brushing his nose against your temple. “i’ve got it bad.”

you smiled into your drink, feeling warmth bloom in your chest.

the kitchen door swung open and more people spilled in, so gojo guided you out again, weaving through the house toward the back room. it was quieter there—a pool table, a few couches, ambient music humming from a speaker.

you sat together, close but not quite touching.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice lower now, meant only for you.

you nodded. “yeah. just… this is different.”

“different bad or different good?”

you looked at him. “good.”

he let out a breath like he’d been holding it all night. “you’re doing amazing, by the way.”

you smiled. “you always say that.”

“’cause it’s always true.”

the next few minutes passed in easy conversation. someone from gojo’s econ class came by and said something dumb, and you laughed, hiding your smile in his shoulder. he lit up like you’d just given him a trophy.

people drifted in and out of the room, some lingering to meet “gojo’s girl,” others sneaking glances like they were watching a myth unfold. he let them look. he kept his arm around you.

when you reached for your phone to check the time, he caught your hand and held it, threading his fingers through yours without hesitation.

“you wanna leave soon?” he asked softly.

you bit your lip. “can we stay a little longer? i’m… actually having fun.”

his smile cracked wide, full of boyish delight. “you got it.”

and in that moment, as he tugged you a little closer, as the music pulsed and the voices rose and fell, you realized something that made your heart squeeze.

you felt safe.

not because the party wasn’t wild. not because the stares had stopped. not because your dress was longer or your shoes more comfortable.

you felt safe because he was here.

because gojo satoru, life of the party, was looking at you like you were the only person in the room.

and somehow, that made all the difference.

297 notes · View notes

scoupsakakitty · 4 months ago

Text

A/N: Since it’s my Birthday today, I thought I’d surprise you guys with something small I wrote for you. I hope you like it! 🌹

A Rose for Every Regret | idol!S.coups x Reader | fluff

It had been a long day at work. Y/N stepped out of the elevator and dragged herself down the hallway, the weight of her bag feeling heavier than usual. Her birthday wasn’t supposed to feel like this. She had hoped for something… better. But birthdays didn’t seem special anymore, especially after the breakup with Seungcheol, or as everyone else knew him, S.Coups.

He was always too busy, too distracted, too caught up in his own world to notice the little things that mattered to her. So, when they ended things six months ago, she swore she wouldn’t let herself get pulled back into that kind of hurt.

Unlocking her apartment door, Y/N paused. Something felt… different.

She stepped inside, immediately greeted by a sight she couldn’t have expected in a thousand years. Roses. Dozens of roses in vases, arranged perfectly on every available surface in her small living room. The air was thick with their sweet, floral scent.

Her eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest.

“What the…” she whispered, dropping her bag to the floor.

There was no note, no explanation. But there didn’t need to be. She knew exactly who had done this.

Reaching for her phone, she typed a quick message, her fingers shaking slightly:

Y/N:

Cheol, what the hell? We’re not even together anymore. And how did you even get into my apartment?

It didn’t take long for his reply to come through.

S.Coups:

You never changed your door code.

Her jaw dropped.

Y/N:

Are you serious? That doesn’t give you the right to break in and do… whatever this is!

S.Coups:

I wanted to make your birthday special.

She stared at the message, feeling a complicated mix of emotions anger, confusion, and a small flicker of something she didn’t want to name.

Rolling her eyes, she tossed her phone onto the couch and tried to focus on cleaning up. But every time she looked at the roses, her chest tightened.————————————————————————————-Hours passed, and the sun dipped below the horizon. She had just settled down with a glass of wine, trying to ignore the flowers staring at her from every corner of the room, when the sound of her door opening made her freeze.

Her head snapped toward the entrance.

“Cheol?!” she exclaimed, her voice sharp.

He stepped inside casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He was dressed in his practice clothes sweatpants, a hoodie, and a baseball cap pulled low over his messy hair. In his hands were several gift bags and a small cake box.

“What are you doing here?!” she demanded, standing up so quickly she nearly knocked over her wine glass.

He smiled sheepishly. “Happy birthday, Y/N.”

Her heart betrayed her, skipping a beat at the sight of him. He looked tired, but his eyes held that same warmth she’d fallen in love with years ago.

She folded her arms, trying to steady herself. “You can’t just walk into my apartment like this! Seriously, Cheol, what’s wrong with you?”

He set the bags and cake down on the coffee table and straightened up. “I couldn’t stay away. Not today.”

She let out a short, sarcastic laugh. “Oh, really? You had no problem staying away last year when we were still together. Remember? You were ‘too busy’ to even call me on my birthday.”

His expression faltered, guilt flashing across his face. “I know I messed up, Y/N. I’ve messed up a lot. That’s why I’m here. I needed to see you, to say I’m sorry.”

Her arms stayed crossed, her gaze hard. “And you thought breaking into my apartment was the best way to do that?”

“I didn’t break in,” he argued lightly, scratching the back of his neck. “You really should change your code, though.”

“Cheol!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry! But I just… I needed to see you.”

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Why now? Why today?”

“Because I couldn’t let another birthday go by without making it right,” he said, his voice soft. “I’ve been such an idiot, Y/N. I know that. I was so caught up in work, in everything else, that I forgot what was most important. You.”

She looked away, his words hitting her harder than she wanted to admit. “Cheol, we’ve been over this. It’s too late. We’re not together anymore.”

“I know,” he said, stepping closer. “And it’s my fault. But I can’t stop thinking about you. Every day, every night, I miss you. I miss us.”

Her heart ached, but she kept her face neutral. “That’s not fair, Cheol. You don’t get to just walk back in and say this now.”

“I know it’s not fair,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “But I’m begging you, Y/N. Give me one more chance. I’ll do better. I’ll be better. I’ll show you every day how much you mean to me.”

She met his gaze, her defenses crumbling just a little. “You didn’t even have time for me before. Why should I believe you now?”

“I’ll make time,” he promised, stepping even closer. “I’ll prove it to you. Starting now.”

He reached into one of the gift bags and pulled out a small, carefully wrapped box. “This is for you.”

Reluctantly, she took the box and opened it. Inside was a delicate bracelet with a tiny rose charm, simple but beautiful.

“It’s not much,” he said, watching her reaction. “But I wanted you to have something that reminded you of how much I love you.”

Her breath caught. “Cheol…”

“I know I hurt you,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “And I know it’ll take time to fix things. But please, let me try. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Tears welled up in her eyes despite her best efforts to hold them back. She hated how much she still loved him, how much she wanted to believe him.

“You really hurt me, Cheol,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

“I know,” he said, stepping closer and gently taking her hand. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me.”

For a long moment, she just looked at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt or insincerity. But all she saw was love raw, desperate, and unshakable.

Finally, she sighed, a small, watery smile breaking through. “You’re such a pain, you know that?”

His face lit up with hope. “Is that a yes?”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile grew. “It’s a maybe.”

He grinned, pulling her into a tight hug. “I’ll take it.”

As his arms wrapped around her, she felt a warmth she hadn’t felt in months. Maybe he really had changed. Maybe this time, things would be different.

————————————————————————————-

And as they sat together, sharing cake and laughter, surrounded by the soft glow of candlelight and the scent of roses, she realized that she was ready to try again.

After all, love was worth the risk. And with Cheol, it felt like coming home.

478 notes · View notes

urcoolgf · 1 month ago

Text

LET HIM SEE

pairing. boyfriend’s bsf¡rafe && reader

content. 18+. cheating (not on reader). smut. unprotected sex. getting caught. angst(?). rafe lowkey being manipulative. language.

summary. part two of ‘off limits?’ where you try to break it off with rafe, but you && rafe end up getting caught by barry… oops.ᐟ p.s. i couldn’t find any pics for this, so you get nothing—use your imagination

it wasn’t the last time—not even close.

rafe cameron was a drug, and you quickly became an addict.

it was a routine at this point—you’d sneak out when barry was sleeping, rafe would come over, fuck you outside the trailer in the darkness, or in his truck. sometimes he’d sneak you over to his place, that way you could be as loud as he wanted you to be.

the only problem—you were actually talking. when you were done, and rafe cleaned you up, you’d lay in his bed and talk, or sit in the backseat and talk. you knew more about him than you knew about barry—than you knew about anyone. he was shockingly easy to talk to, and it was dangerous. it was bad enough when you were just cheating to have sex, but now you were cheating… and getting attached?

it had to end.

you had texted rafe to come over to the trailer—told barry was out ‘handling business’ as always… rafe thought he was getting lucky—a little afternoon’s delight—little did he know.

you sat on the old couch, knees to your chest, waiting. your nail resting between your teeth—you were nervous. rafe wasn’t the type to go down without a fight, so you didn’t know how messy this was about to get… literally.

the sound of his truck tires crunching against the gravel made you jump. his footsteps echoed through your ears. a knock on the metal door startled you—even though you knew it was coming.

“come in,” you squeaked out. you were trying not to sound nervous, but it was impossible.

“hey, baby,” rafe’s voice was quiet, but you could already see the desire darkening his eyes. he made his way over to you, sitting himself right next to you on the couch. his hands moved to grab your hips—attempting to place you on his lap before you stopped him.

“rafe– stop. we gotta talk,” you tried to sound firm, certain—but you weren’t, and you couldn’t fake it.

"okay…,” he replied uncertainly, hesitantly—like he didn’t like where this was going. he slowly released his grasp on you, shifting to lean back against the couch, arms crossed in front of his chest. you cleared your throat, but it was no use—your voice still cracked as the words left your mouth.

“we– we can’t do this anymore,” you voice barely above a whisper, you turned to look up at him. it scared you—how close you were getting to him—you would rather be clueless with barry than be with rafe and know everything.

you always thought you wanted to be best friends with whoever you were dating, but the attachment that was growing didn’t make you feel safe—it made you feel exposed.

“the fuck are you talkin’ about?,” his gaze turned dark—not with lust or desire, with control. you could see the way his jaw tightened, and his posture stiffened.

“this,” you motioned between the two of you, “can’t happen anymore.”

rafe scoffed, but it was more like a laugh—like he couldn’t believe what you were saying, like it was some kind of joke. he shook his head, processing what you just said to him.

“i’m serious,” you replied blankly, your voice finally more stern.

“what’s the matter, princess? finally got a guilty conscience? ya didn’t seem to care too much about your little boyfriend when you were screamin’ my name literally last night,” he was amused at this point, mocking and taunting you like he knew you wouldn’t be able to stand your ground for much longer.

“it wasn’t supposed to go this far… shouldn’t have even happened in the first place,” your voice was shy again, like he had scared you back into your senses.

“don’t play all innocent now… act like you weren’t the one sneakin’ out, weren’t the one textin’ me. you want me jus’ as bas as i want you, doll,” his words struck you right across the face—they were harsh, but they weren’t wrong.

"was a mistake,” you barely got to words out, your eyes glossed over. you forced yourself to keep looking at him, even though all you wanted to do was hide.

“no, baby. it was a lot of things—mistake? not one of ‘em,” he let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head again with that knowing smirk plastered on his face. you hated him—hated that he was right, hated that he was actually changing your mind, hated that you really didn’t hate him at all.

“let me ask you somethin’… if it was so wrong why didn’t ya break up with barry? hm?,” he asked. his expression told you that he knew he had you—had you right where he wanted you—trapped because he was right. you should have broken up with barry. should have left him after the first time rafe kissed you.

you didn’t know how to respond. you just sat there—staring at him while a single tear fell down your cheek—a sense of hurt tainting your face.

"don’t bother answerin’, i know you liked it—liked the sneakin’ around, liked being someone’s dirty little secret. y’know you act all innocent, but you’re just as sick as me,” his eyes narrowed. his arms were still crossed, guarding his chest the same way you were trying to guard your heart.

it wasn’t working.

the look on your face should have broken rafe’s heart. it should have made him ache. well… it did—just not in the way it should have. he was turned on beyond belief right now, seeing the rogue tears trailing down your cheeks, the way your lips were puffy, and your eyes were glossy. he had always wanted to ruin you, and now he had… in more ways than one.

he knew you’d never be able to leave him, and it made blood rush to his dick.

he knew how sick that was—how twisted he was—but that’s just what you did to him. you made him obsessive.

rafe’s hand moved to your cheek, wiping away the tears as if he wasn’t the one who caused them. he caressed your face with a gentleness that felt foreign.

“shhh, it’s okay baby… so pretty when you cry,” he cooed. you didn’t even fight him, didn’t push him away like you should have. you melted into his touch, resting your head in his palm like it was your safe haven.

—

“so fuckin’ pretty when you cry, holy shit,” he grunted, punctuating his words with rough thrusts. you couldn’t do anything—not that you even wanted to—you hated yourself. the tears streaming down your reddened skin were a mixture of pleasure and pain. you were frustrated, you were overstimulated, and you were begging for more.

"wan’ more, doll? yeah, i know ya do,” he was breathless above you, pounding you into the sheets until all you could do was whimper around his dick.

“fuck! ray,” his name was leaving your lips like a broken record, like you knew nothing else. it felt so dirty—letting him take you like this on the bed you shared with your boyfriend, but you didn’t care. you couldn’t care, not when he was hitting that spot that only he could. he was all over you, claiming you like he had something to prove after your conversation minutes earlier. his hands squeezing and gripping any part of you he wanted.

“crazy to think you ever thought you could leave me—like that little boyfriend of yours could ever make you feel the way i do,” his tone was low, possessive, almost amused.

“say it– say he can’t make you feel the way i do. tell me who you belong to, y/n,” he was demanding you—the feeling of his dick working you open made your back arch off the bed.

“shit– rafe… please!,” you pleaded with him—not just for more, but for mercy. you already felt like a shitty person, and he was not making it easy on you.

“nuh uh, princess. tell me.”

“you! fuck– i belong– ‘m yours rafe. only yours,” your words were broken by your moans, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“that’s my girl. so perfect f’r me,” he grunted with a satisfied smirk on his face. the way he was moving above you was hypnotic. you watched his abs contract and relax as he pumped into you. but, when he moved his finger to your clit, you lost it—throwing your head back impossibly further into the sheets.

you were so lost in the feeling of rafe that you didn’t hear barry’s bike ripping through the gravel around the trailer.

“the hell is goin’ on here?!,” barry shouted, the sound of the door closing harshly behind him rang through your ears. you jumped at the sudden voice, trying to move out from under rafe, but he wouldn’t let you.

rafe didn’t care. he didn’t even stop, if anything he went harder. he grasped your wrists in his hand, moving them above your head, forcing you to stay where you were.

he leaned down to whisper into your ear, “don’t act clueless now, princess… let him see– let him see how i’ve ruined you. all you could do was moan—at his words, at the feeling of his warm breath against your ear, at the way he was so deep in you.

rafe looked down at the ‘B’ necklace still decorating your chest—you had fixed it after the first night to not raise suspicion with barry. rafe basically growled before ripping it off—once again— throwing it behind him to where barry stood in shock, hitting him right in the chest before falling to the floor.

“you’re fuckin’ sick! get the fuck out!,” barry shouted, trying to lunge at rafe, but he wasn’t letting anyone or anything get him off of you. he used the hand that wasn’t on your clit to push barry away with a strength he didn’t even know he had.

“let her finish first man, she’s close,” he said, a smug smirk on his lips. you weren’t even here anymore, totally gone in the feeling of rafe inside you and the sensation he was giving your clit. you were moaning even louder now, and all barry could do was watch, jaw slacked.

barry just walked out, unable to even process what was happening. he paced outside the trailer, your noises still audible. once you came around rafe’s cock—and he shot his release into you—he just picked you up bridal style, and carried you out the trailer toward his truck.

“i’ll be back f’r her stuff,” is all rafe said as he passed barry calmly, holding his ‘best friend’s’ naked girlfriend in his arms.

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g1rld1ary · 1 month ago

Note

Ohhh, Hotch's Daughter x Spencer is my FAVOURITE. Anything forbidden, etc. My vision is that they're on a case in Readers' hometown, and they meet up and maybe some smut? Almost getting caught in the act type stuff? Some awkward Spencer 😬

wc: 2093

cw: making out and tits out, almost getting caught

me: thank u sm for this request gorg! i didn't do full smut coz i just Could Not but i hope u enjoy!! sorry this has taken so long it has been a crazy crazy month in gia land! i love this world so requests r still more than welcome! in my head this takes place quite a bit after the first two parts; a lot has taken place in the interim

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

It was weird enough being back in your hometown for the holidays after moving interstate for college, then your big girl job. Being back at your mother’s always gave you a weird feeling of detachment, being in a place that used to be home but didn’t carry the same weight anymore.

What was weirder, though, was the text you got from Aaron as you sat on the tree swing outside, reading.

Are you with your Mom? We have a case near you right now. Dinner when we finish?

You laughed at his proper spelling and grammar, texting back to tell him you would love to. The coincidence was uncanny, but you weren’t in any position to complain about seeing him.

Your mother was shockingly excited, going so far as to insist that you invite the whole team over for dinner on the night they closed the case. It certainly wasn’t the reaction you were expecting given the whole secret baby thing she’d done for two decades, but you thought it was sweet that she was enthusiastic about your relationship with your dad.

That was why you were at your local police precinct, alerted by your father that the case was wrapping up and would be finished by the evening.

“Miss me?” You walked through the door into the meeting room the BAU had obviously been delegated to. The team all looked up in surprise, except your dad.

“Baby Hotch, what are you doing here?” Morgan grinned, standing to give you a quick hug.

“I grew up here,” You replied, returning Rossi’s wave of greeting. “But here, here? I come with invitations. My mom insists that you all come for dinner tonight, as soon as you’ve wrapped up the case… and maybe had some showers. Not to be rude, but it is not smelling like heaven in here.” You were glad the team got your joke, what with half of them being covered in bruises or blood. You didn’t know what had gone down in the case, and you didn’t think you wanted to.

You stuck around as the team wrapped up the administrative parts of the case, exhaustion clear on their faces. Still, the promise of a home-cooked meal (and a glimpse into Hotch’s past and your private life) kept them going, spirits not too shabby.

“Alright, shall we say meet at your mom’s place in an hour and a half? That way, everyone has time to get cleaned up and you have time to go hide anything embarrassing in your childhood bedroom because you know they’ll all charm their way in,” Hotch said with a tiny glint of humour in his eye, the look he tended to save for his children. You nodded dutifully, jokingly saluting as you fished your mom’s car keys from the depths of your coat pocket.

The BAU all peeled off into the SUVs, ready for a hot shower and a change of clothes. You were just unlocking the doors to your own vehicle when the precinct doors opened and out stepped a very familiar face.

“Doctor Reid,” You said, voice full of mocking, “What a complete surprise!”

“You know, I was stuck taking witness interviews today so I’m not in any desperate need for a shower…” He matched your faux innocence, letting himself into the passenger seat.

Safely inside a car with tinted windows, you leant over the centre console to press your lips to his.

“Hi, Spencie,” You giggled, putting the car into drive. Reid pulled a face at the nickname, but let his hand fall to rest on your thigh regardless.

“You’re incorrigible.” He squeezed your leg lightly.

Your mom was busy in the kitchen when you both arrived, trying to knock each other off the path up to your front door like children.

“Hey, Mom. This is Doctor Reid from Dad’s team. He’s gonna hang out until the rest of the team gets here.”

“Spencer,” Reid corrected, waving from beside you. “Thank you so much for inviting us over, ma’am. The team is very fond of your daughter.”

“I see,” Your mom replied, shooting you a look that said he’s cute. Knowing Reid, he absolutely caught it. “It’s nice to meet you too, Spencer. Dinner won’t be for a while, you two go hang out.”

“Are you sure we can’t help out?” Reid asked at the same time you exclaimed, “We’re not thirteen!”

“Thirteen?” Reid asked with a laugh as you led him up the stairs to your childhood bedroom.

“Shut up,” You groaned, “It just sounded like she was gonna tell us to go play Monopoly, or she was excited for me to have my first kiss.” Spencer shook his head, laughing again at your ridiculousness. He liked your mom already.

“So, you don’t want to kiss me?” He asked with frankly highly effective puppy eyes, moving closer to loop his arms around your waist.

You only got a peck from the genius before he’d caught a glance of the bedroom behind you, spinning you quickly so he could snoop inside.

You stood in the centre of the room, sinking into the pink fluffy rug, as Spencer darted about the room, taking in every fragment of your life before college.

“Is this a tape deck?” He asked, immediately flipping through your collection of cassettes.

“Yeah, my parents refused to buy me a CD player, so it was my darkest secret in high school that I was still listening to cassettes. I’ve got a good collection, though. Now, can you please help me hide anything too embarrassing from Morgan?” Reid popped in a tape, Duran Duran’s Rio album, and got to work, but not without commenting on how embarrassing it was that you were into Duran Duran as a teen.

“Debate team?” He asked, pointing at the certificates pinned to your wall. You stared at them for a moment with squinted eyes, scrutinising.

“Leave them. At least I was good at debating. Take down the math olympiad participation prize next to it, that’s the line, I think.”

“I did math olympiads!”

“Exactly.” Spencer rolled his eyes playfully but took down the certificate nonetheless, putting it in the storage tub you’d allocated to anything you didn’t want seen.

You went about in peace for a while, you cleaning and Spencer snooping amongst your things.

“Is this actually you?” He broke the silence, holding up a small photo book.

“Oh my god,” You moaned, covering your face with your hands. The photos were from your senior year of college, when you and your friends spent spring break down by the beach. The photos were absolutely mortifying, capturing you drunk, messy, and in far too few clothes. You weren’t even that many years into the workforce, and you already couldn’t believe you were ever wearing those itty-bitty bikinis out in public. “I haven’t looked at tequila the same way since.”

“You look really great, you should wear that again sometime,” Spencer said, a light blush on his cheeks.

“Alright, perv,” You laughed, taking the photo book from his hands, “That’s definitely going in the box.” You bent over to put the album away when Spencer’s hands landed warm on your hips, spinning you around and pulling you flush against him.

“I’m serious,” He murmured, lips brushing against yours, “You’re so beautiful.”

Before you could reply, Spencer was kissing up and down your neck, a contented sigh escaping from your lips.

You led him blindly to your childhood single bed, falling onto it as the back of your knees hit the bed frame. You pulled Spencer up to your lips in a desperate kiss, running your fingers through his hair as he worked on getting his buttoned shirt undone.

He pulled away so you could get your own shirt off, his eye catching on one of your stuffed animals sitting snugly next to your pillow.

“Who’s this guy?” He asked with a small laugh, and you huffed.

“For your information, that’s Mister Stripes.” You succeeded in unfastening your bra, “And hello? More important things to be focusing on? We have to be quick.”

Spencer immediately turned his attention back to you, hands going straight to palm your tits, drawing a gentle sigh from you. You attacked his neck with kisses, sucking on his pulse point to hear the pretty moans he made.

You’d just popped the button of his slacks when you heard boisterous laughter from the kitchen, voices that were definitely not your mother’s. Spencer’s eyes snapped up from where his tongue was on your nipple, both of you freezing in your tracks. If the BAU were already in your house, it was only a matter of moments before they would find their way into your bedroom. You really did not want them finding you and Spencer getting hot and heavy… especially as none of them knew you were even close.

Spencer launched across the room over to your old wardrobe, pulling his shirt over his shoulders and doing the buttons with record speed. You heard your name being called from the bottom of the stairs.

“You up there?” Hotch called, and your eyes widened more than you thought possible.

“Uh, yeah! I’ll be down in a sec! Spencer too,” You added after a moment, hoping it would seem less suspicious if you were upfront about his presence.

“No way, I need to see her childhood bedroom.” You heard Morgan say, accompanied by heavy footsteps getting closer.

“Fuck!” You hissed, giving up on the possibility of getting your bra back on with your fingers anxiously shaking, kicking it furiously under your bed and pulling a sweater over your head to lessen the damage.

You brushed through your hair with your fingers as the door creaked open and the rest of the BAU let themselves in.

“Hey, Dad,” You greeted him with a smile you hoped was confident, giving him a quick hug.

“Hey, Honey. And Reid.”

“Doctor Reid got here a little early, I was just showing him around my room,” You cut in before he could say anything.

“She was a champion debater,” Spencer added with his signature awkward smile, pointing over to the certificates by the door. That got everyone’s attention onto the various memorabilia and memories scattered around your room and off of you.

You and Spencer made eye contact, identical sighs of relief making you giggle.

“Hey, Pretty Boy,” Morgan said as you were explaining a framed photo to the rest of the group, “Better do up that last button before Hotch notices the hickey on your neck.” Spencer almost jumped out of his skin, hands flying to cover up the mark. He did just that, trying to casually pass by your mirror and ensure his shirt covered everything indecent.

Your mother called you all down to eat minutes later, which saved you both from the persisting anxiety of having been almost caught. Spencer was seated far from you, but you both spent the meal stealing looks and small smiles.

Dinner with the BAU was everything you thought it would be: loud, chaotic and full of love. You enjoyed hearing stories of your Dad at work, it helped piece together the puzzle of someone you’d spent so long wishing to get to know.

As the night drew to a close, you found yourself dreading the team having to leave, feeling at home amongst the banter and teasing.

When it did officially become too late and even Hotch was refusing drink refills, you and your mom followed the team to the front door, making everyone promise to return for another meal the next time they were in the state. Hotch even suggested that you should do something as a three: him, you and your mom, which made you beam.

On the way out the door, Spencer gave your hand a squeeze. Soft, simple, something otherwise unnoticeable. But he couldn’t kiss you, couldn’t tell you to call him later or update him on the book you were reading. So he gave your hand a gentle squeeze to tell you he’d be thinking of you on the plane ride home.

#giasfics˚ ༘�� ⋆｡˚ ❀#fluff #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #dr spencer reid #bau team #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #matthew gray gubler #love #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds imagine #dr reid #criminal minds fanfiction

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willowsnook · 3 months ago

Text

an experiment pt. 3

lando norris x reporter!reader

a/n: 😈

pt. 1, pt. 2

tags: @sarx164 @wildflowerrsszz, @jaematthews15, @opastries81 @armystay89 @hadesnumber1daughter @dying-inside-but-its-classy @chlmtfilms @freyathehuntress @ashley-k @charlesgirl16 @widow-cevans @cmleitora @rawr-123s-stuff @majapapaya4 @fullmugwolffish

-----------------------------------------------

Y/N: ABSOLUTELY NOT LN: non-refundable, sorry. See you tomorrow

You threw your phone across the room, furious. Hadn’t he done enough? You had your resignation letter typed out, for god’s sake. Begrudgingly, you moved across the room to find your phone, calling your best friend.

“What’s up?” David asked.

“Lando Norris is coming to Austin to see me,” you said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Wait, why?” David questioned. You could hear his confusion over the phone.

“I don’t know, he posted that thing on Insta and then texted me that he bought a flight,” you complained.

David snorted, "He posted that thing and then immediately bought a flight? Sounds like someone's feeling guilty," David said with a hint of amusement in his voice.

You groaned, flopping back onto your bed. "I don't care if he feels guilty. I don't want to see him."

"You sure about that?" David asked skeptically. "Because it seems like you two have some unresolved tension."

"The only tension we have is me wanting to strangle him," you muttered.

David laughed. "Right, because that's totally normal behavior between two people who hate each other."

You rolled your eyes, even though he couldn't see you. "What am I supposed to do? He's just going to show up here."

"Well, you could always not be there when he arrives," David suggested. "Or you could hear him out. Maybe he genuinely wants to apologize.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” you complained to him and you heard him laugh in response.

“I’m always on your side, but let’s just say that Carlos isn’t the only one betting on when you two will get together.”

Instead of answering you hung up, not interested in hearing what he had to say anymore. You groaned before pulling yourself off your bed to begin cleaning. Deep cleaning your apartment always cleared your head and it killed two birds with one stone considering that Lando was coming the next day.

Lando didn’t answer any of your texts the rest of the night and you started to convince yourself that he wasn’t coming which had you relieved. That was shortlived when you heard someone knocking on your door the next day as you were eating lunch.

“You’re kidding,” you said, shocked as you opened your door to see him standing there, exhaustion written all over your face.

“I don’t have the energy to fight with you right now,” he mumbled, pushing past you with his small suitcase.

“I didn’t invite you to come,” you shot back, following him angrily. He set his stuff down near the kitchen island before turning back to you.

“My guilt was eating me alive so I had to come,” he said plainy.

You rolled your eyes, “I would have saved you the trip if you just would have called.”

He gave you a pointed look, you both knew you wouldn’t have answered.

“Can I please take a nap before I read the apology speech I prepared?” He asked and you fought hard against the laugh threatening to escape. It didn’t go unnoticed by Lando who smiled triumphantly.

“Fine,” you agreed, showing him to the guest room. “Why do you have your suitcase?”

“I didn’t book a hotel,” he replied nonchalantly.

“Then where are you going to stay?” He didn’t answer and you furrowed your eyebrows. “No. No way. Do you not remember that I don’t like people staying over?”

“I remember every single thing about that night. In detail,” he shot back and your face flamed red. “We won’t be in the same room so it should be fine by your rules.”

You stormed out of the guest room and slammed the door. You paced back and forth in your living room, trying to process the fact that Lando Norris was currently napping in your guest room. This was not how you expected your day to go. After about an hour, you heard the door open and Lando emerged, looking slightly more rested but still jet-lagged.

"Feel better?" you asked, unable to keep the sarcasm out of your voice.

He nodded, running a hand through his messy hair. "Look, can we talk?"

You crossed your arms, leaning against the wall. "Isn't that why you flew halfway across the world?”

"I had no idea what was happening y/n, you have to believe me,” he said honestly. “I got rid of social media mid season because of the amount of hate I was getting. I’m so sorry this happened.”

“The things that have been said about me Lando…” you trailed off, resolve cracking. “How could I want to keep doing this?”

Lando's face fell as he saw the pain in your eyes. He took a tentative step towards you, his voice soft. "Y/n, I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen. What they've been saying, it's not okay. Not at all."

You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "It's not just what they're saying. It's... everything. The threats, the harassment. They found my personal information, Lando. I don't feel safe anymore."

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration and guilt evident on his face. “You’re too good for us to lose you. That article you wrote? It was brutal, but it was honest. And that's what makes you great at your job.”

You didn’t say anything but didn’t stop Lando as he stepped even closer to you, his hands coming to cup your face.

“I need you there,” he admitted. “I need you to keep me on my toes, to keep me accountable. Don’t let them win.”

A tear escaped your eye and Lando brushed it away with his thumb, staring intensely at you. You laid your head against his chest, taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to you again.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you replied softly. Pulling away, you tried to collect yourself before turning back to him. “How long are you here for?”

“Couple of days,” he said sheepishly.

“You know I’m not going to sleep with you again just because you’re here,” you said and he rolled his eyes.

“I’ll try not to be offended that you thought that was what I wanted,” he replied.

“Whatever,” you said, heading towards your room.

“Pain in my ass,” you heard him mutter under his breath as you left.

The next day was actually enjoyable, as much as you didn’t want to admit it. You and Lando got brunch before walking around the city, you showing him the touristy sights.

As you walked along the river, you couldn't help but sneak glances at Lando. He seemed more relaxed here, away from the pressures of the F1 world. You had to admit, when he wasn't being an insufferable prat, he was actually quite charming.

"What?" Lando asked, catching you staring.

You quickly looked away. "Nothing. Just surprised you haven't complained about the heat yet."

He chuckled. "I'm not that delicate, you know. Besides, the company makes it bearable."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't hide your small smile. "Careful, Norris. That almost sounded like a compliment."

"Don't let it go to your head," he teased back. “What are we doing tonight?”

“Maybe just a movie back at the apartment,” you said. “Thanks to your apology speech, I actually will have to go back to work tomorrow.”

He grinned at you. “Glad to hear that.”

“Yeah my first piece back will be ‘Why Oscar Piastri is my pick to win the 2025 championship.’”

You squealed as he moved into you, tickling into your sides.

That night, you and Lando were curled up on opposite ends of your couch, watching a movie. You kept sneaking glances at him, noticing how relaxed he looked in your space. It was a far cry from the tense interactions you usually had at the track.

As the credits rolled, Lando turned to you with a soft smile. "This was nice. I'm glad I came."

You nodded, feeling a warmth in your chest you weren't quite ready to examine. "It was. Thank you for coming, Lando. I know I gave you a hard time, but... it means a lot that you cared enough to fly out here."

He reached over, gently squeezing your hand. "Of course I care, y/n. Despite our... complicated history, I've always respected you. And I hate that you were hurt because of me, even indirectly."

“I appreciate it,” you whispered. He stared at you a little longer, his eyes flickering down to your lips before he spoke again.

“Sequel?” He asked and you smiled, nodding your head.

As the next movie started, he didn’t move back to his spot, instead staying very close to you. As you felt yourself drifting off, you snuggled into his side, much to his amusement. The last thing you remember was him placing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, gently rousing you from your slumber. As consciousness slowly crept in, you became aware of a warm presence beside you, a steady heartbeat beneath your ear. Your eyes fluttered open, and the events of the previous night came rushing back.

You were still on the couch, curled up against Lando's side, his arm draped protectively around you. Sometime during the night, he had pulled a blanket over both of you, cocooning you in warmth. The TV screen was black, the movie long since ended.

Panic seized your chest as the full weight of the situation hit you. You had spent the night with Lando. Not just in a physical sense, but in the most intimate way possible - wrapped in each other's arms, vulnerable in sleep. This was exactly what you had always feared, the reason you never let anyone stay over.

Slipping out of his arms, you tried to calm yourself down as you headed back into your room. Your mind was racing as you showered, your feelings for Lando bubbling to the surface even though you pushed them down.

Lando was sitting up and scrolling through his phone when you came back into the living room. He looked up at you, face instantly scrunching as he saw you.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“Nothing, what time is your flight?” You asked, without any emotion. Lando moved off the couch towards you, grabbing your arm as you turned away from him.

“Y/n, what’s wrong? Is this because of last night?” He asked and you flinched, giving him the answer he needed.

“You need to go Lando, thank you for coming, but it’s time for you to go.”

“Wow,” he said in disbelief. “I’ll go when you can look me in the eye and tell me that all you still feel for me is hatred.”

“Lando please,” you said, begging.

“Why are you pushing me away?” He asked, frustration evident in his voice.

You took a deep breath, finally meeting his gaze. "Because it can't work, Lando. We can't work."

His eyes flashed with hurt and anger. "Why not? Give me one good reason."

"We live in different countries, for starters," you said, your voice strained. "Our careers are completely incompatible. I'm supposed to report on you objectively, and you're supposed to trust that I won't use anything personal against you in my articles."

"That's bullshit and you know it," Lando snapped. "Look at Fernando and Melissa. We could make it work if we wanted to."

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around yourself. "It's not just that. We're too different, Lando. We argue constantly. Half the time I want to strangle you."

"And the other half?" he challenged.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said.

“It does to me,” he shot back.

“What would happen if we were together Lando?” you asked tirelessly. “If your fans hated me for writing about you, how would they treat me for dating you? I’ve seen how they treated your exes.”

Lando was quiet for a moment, anger steaming off of him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he finally said, coldly. “I guess I’m not worth it.”

You started to call after him but he was already gone.

—--------------------------------------------

Lando’s season started off incredibly, winning the first three races all by over 5 seconds minimum. You would think that he would be ecstatic, his boyish energy returning to interviews and PR videos but that was not the case. He was pissed. Anyone that tried to talk to him was met with short answers and anytime McLaren made him do anything, he looked like he was being held at gunpoint.

He wanted to get over you but he couldn’t. He’d never had anyone challenge him the way you did and he could still feel you sleeping in his arms that night from a couple of months ago. His friends were walking on eggshells around him and Carlos was about to lose it.

“Please just call her,” Carlos begged, sitting next to Lando at dinner in Monaco. They had a couple weeks in between races and what was supposed to be an enjoyable break, was turning into a nightmare for Carlos due to Lando’s moodiness.

“She doesn’t want anything to do with me, she made that quite clear,” Lando replied.

“She’s just scared Lando, she’s literally been checking up on you,” he told his friend. A look of interest flashed across Lando’s face so Carlos kept going. “Oscar said she asked how you were doing just last week.”

“I don’t believe you,” Lando finally said and Carlos groaned, resting his head into his hands.

You were miserable. The past few months since pushing Lando away had been some of the hardest of your life. You threw yourself into work, covering IndyCar and trying to ignore the ache in your chest every time you saw news about Lando's incredible start to the F1 season.

But no matter how much you tried to distract yourself, thoughts of him kept creeping in. The way he looked at you that morning on your couch, hurt and confusion in his eyes as you pushed him away. The feeling of falling asleep in his arms, more content than you'd been in years.

You knew you had valid reasons for ending things before they really began. The complications of your careers, the distance, the intensity of F1 fandom. But the longer you went without talking to him, the more those reasons felt like excuses born out of fear.

OP: Hey, you asked about Lando last week. Thought you might want to know he's in a pretty bad mood lately. Carlos is at his wit's end.

You frowned, guilt gnawing at you. Was Lando's mood because of you? No, that was ridiculous. He was probably just stressed about the season, despite his early successes.

Y/N: Thanks for letting me know. I'm sure he'll snap out of it soon.

OP: c’mon y/n, I know you’re just as miserable as he is.

You cursed your friend David who you knew told Oscar about how depressing your life had become. As you sat in your apartment that night your mind wandered back to that last conversation.

Why did you push him away? Because you didn’t want to get hurt?

The truth was, you were terrified. Terrified of letting someone in, of being vulnerable, of potentially getting your heart broken. But as you reflected on the past few months without Lando, you realized you were already heartbroken.

With shaking hands, you picked up your phone and dialed a number you had been avoiding.

"Hello?" Lando's voice was hesitant, guarded.

"Hey," you said softly. "It's me."

There was a long pause. "Y/n? Is everything okay?"

You took a deep breath. "No, actually. Everything's not okay. I... I miss you, Lando. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry for pushing you away."

Another pause. And then nothing. He hung up.

pt. 4

#lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris

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ghosttotheparty · 2 years ago

Text

saw this prompt @newgrangespirals @steddieas-shegoes; needed to write it but also i kind of derailed it bc my brain has a mind of its own and its focus is steddie so i apologize also on ao3

He’s met with silence.

Eddie supposes Murray Bauman must only ever be met with silence after speaking; he doesn’t seem the type of man to hold an easy, casual conversation. Especially now.

Even Argyle is silent, his fork stalled on its way to his mouth as he looks from Murray to Jonathan, whose face is red, then Nancy, who’s equally flushed.

Eddie looks at the table, his vision blurring. His hands are shaking.

“Murray,” Joyce says in a lethally calm voice. Eddie had forgotten she was here. “Go.”

“What do you mean, go?” Murray says, his voice quieter like he’s starting to sense what he’s just done. “We’re in—“

“Murray,” Joyce snaps. Eddie flinches. His fingers are knotting with the hem of the tablecloth, his food uneaten on his plate. “Go. I will deal with you later.”

There’s a moment of quiet before Murray’s chair scrapes across the uneven tile floor, and his footsteps retreat. And then there’s silence again. Tense, tense silence.

“Steve,” Nancy says quietly, and Eddie looks up at her, glaring even though she hasn’t done anything to him. Jonathan looks at her too, anxious. Joyce sips her water, her hand shaking, and Hopper has his head down, his face hidden in his hands.

“I’m good,” Steve says shortly, and Eddie looks at him, his stomach flipping. Steve is smiling a little, but it’s an awful smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes. He pushes his plate away with a breath like he feels just as sick as Eddie does, and he nods, but he doesn’t look like he’s really here. “I’m…”

“Steve, it— it wasn’t—“

“You told him my name,” Steve snaps, looking at her across the table, his eyes wide. Nancy looks like she’s going to start crying, and Eddie finds that he really doesn’t care if she does. “And you still…”

He laughs. Dryly, humourlessly. Eddie feels like he might throw up.

Steve closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose the way he does when he feels a migraine coming on, and he laughs again.

“Steve—“ Jonathan tries to say, but Steve just holds his hands up, shaking his head.

“I’m just…”

He pushes his plate farther away, moving his chair back with a loud scrape, and then he’s leaving too, going upstairs. Eddie watches him go, watches Robin get up to follow him before she deflates, seeing the way Steve gestures for her to stay, to leave him alone. Robin’s hands are shaking, and Eddie can practically feel the anger radiating from her.

The silence is back after a door slams upstairs.

Joyce sets her glass down loudly, and she puts her hands flat on the table next to her plate, taking a deep, shaky breath. Hopper says her name softly, but she holds a hand up, shushing him.

“I have never…” she starts slowly, her voice shaking with anger. “I have never been more disappointed in my life.”

“Mom—”

“Jonathan,” Joyce snaps, fixing a look on him, and he falls quiet. “…I did not raise you to be the other man. And Nancy, I…” She puts her hands on the table again, taking a measured breath before she looks at Nancy. “I am not your mother, but I think I am well within my rights to say I’m disappointed in you, too.”

“Ms Byers—”

“I don’t want to hear a word out of either of you,” Joyce says calmly before she touches her face, rubbing her chin anxiously as she stares at her plate in front of her. Nobody is eating anymore. Eddie still feels sick, but he also feels like he’s blended into the wall, like everybody’s forgotten that he’s here at all. He looks at the table, at the fraying tablecloth that’s clutched in his fingers.

“Unbelievable,” Joyce mutters to herself. “I can’t…” She doesn’t finish the sentence. Nancy takes a shuddering breath. She might be crying.

“Eddie, dude.”

Eddie looks up, his eyes meeting Argyle’s. He’s looking over at Eddie anxiously, his head tilted a little bit, and as they look at each other, the others look at Eddie too. And suddenly he isn’t in the wall, but he’s the centrepiece of the table, the showstopper, the freak.

It’s like they all remember what Murray said at the same time.

“Eddie,” Joyce says, her voice softer than it was a moment ago. Kinder. Eddie looks at her. “Honey, if… if it is true. None of us have any problem with it.”

If it is true.

They all know it is. Eddie can tell just by looking at them that they all know.

He feels so… small. Like he’s fifteen again. Like he’s new in high school, like he’s walking down the hallway and feeling all the stares, the eyes and eyes and eyes looking, watching, analysing, judging. Even though Joyce’s gaze is kind, and Hopper gives him a slight nod when their eyes meet.

Eddie’s chest feels so tight he can’t breathe, each breath shallow and weak, and he’s kind of lightheaded, and he feels fucking nauseous.

“I, uhm.” He clears his throat, his stomach churning, and he untangled his fingers from the tablecloth, taking a sharp breath. “Excuse me,” he says quickly, breathlessly, moving his chair back so fast it tips on the uneven tiles. He feels like he might pass out as he goes upstairs, hearing Argyle say something quietly behind him.

Upstairs feels even quiet than downstairs. Like every room could have an echo.

Eddie finds a room that’s empty except for some cardboard boxes, and he shuts the door behind himself before he goes to the opposite side of the room, closing his eyes as he presses his forehead to the wall. It’s cold.

He’s breathing too fast, and his head feels light, like if his eyes were open his vision would be dark. He wraps his arms around himself tightly, squeezing as he exhales until he wheezes, until there’s nothing in his lungs, and then he inhales as slowly as he can. In, in, in, until he can’t anymore. He holds it. Exhales. Does it all over again.

Until he can breathe without suffocating.

He turns to rest his back on the wall, and he slides down to the floor, closing his eyes and pulling his knees to his chest, exhaling shakily.

He’s never felt like this before.

He feels so… lonely.

He feels almost cold, even though sunlight is streaming through the window, beams of golden light glowing across the floor.

He cries. Even though he tries not to. He can’t help it, and the tears are absorbed by the sleeves of his hoodie.

Steve’s hoodie. Eddie hates that he’s wearing it, even though Steve brought it just for him. Even though Steve specifically made sure he brought a black one, even though it smells like Steve. Eddie hates that Murray noticed that it’s Steve’s.

He stays there for a while. Until the sunlight dims.

He only lifts his head when the door breaks open, and Steve’s voice says, “Eddie?”

Eddie stands quickly, wiping his face and sniffling as Steve finds him and shuts the door behind himself.

“Hey,” Eddie says, his voice wavering. “You okay?”

Steve nods. He doesn’t look like he’s been crying, but his eyes are shining blankly. And Eddie aches.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t really have to. Steve blinks at him, hesitating.

“I kind of already knew,” he says like it’s a question. “I just…” He exhales, swallowing, and Eddie knows he’s talking about Nancy and Jonathan. It. “I, like, convinced myself I didn’t care? That it— it didn’t matter?”

Eddie listens, leaning against the wall, watching Steve push his hair back anxiously.

“I mean— the world was ending, who gives a shit if— if I get cheated on? It’s so fucking stupid.” He doesn’t seem to realize he’s even talking to Eddie. He’s just talking. Saying what he didn’t say downstairs. “But I’m so… Jesus. Hearing it out loud, like— like Murray was fucking proud, like it was funny, I’m just… I don’t know.”

Steve deflates, leaning against the door, looking at Eddie, and his eyes are shining.

“Embarrassed?”

“You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about, Steve,” Eddie says softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“...I trusted them,” Steve says quietly, weakly.

“You trusted them,” Eddie repeats. “What they did is their fault, Steve, you didn’t do anything wrong. Trusting them wasn’t wrong,” he adds adamantly, watching the way Steve’s eyes shine. “You thought they were— they were trustworthy. You didn’t know they’d do something like that.”

Steve sniffs, looking at the floor. His cheeks are flushed, and Eddie hates himself for thinking he looks beautiful.

“You have every right to feel hurt,” Eddie says gently. Steve looks at him. He swallows. “And to feel angry.”

“What about you?” Steve asks quietly after a moment. Eddie blinks.

“What about me?”

Steve looks at him. His eyes flick back and forth between Eddie’s for a moment, intent and searching before he speaks. His voice is so soft. Kind.

“He just outed you in front of all of us,” he says quietly. “You’re not angry?”

Eddie blinks again.

Steve looks at him so kindly. Eddie likes being looked at like this. Like Steve is listening to him even though he isn’t speaking. And Eddie realizes that Steve just knows, that he doesn’t question it. That he knows how Eddie is feeling, but is waiting for him to say it himself.

Eddie’s lip quivers, and he feels like a child again.

“I…” He hesitates, taking a breath as a wave of nausea washes over him again. Steve just looks at him. “I’ve never come out to anyone,” he says weakly. He doesn’t recognize his own voice. “I’ve never gotten the chance to. My— My dad found some zines in my room when I was fourteen, and I didn’t… I didn’t have to say anything.” His voice is shaking. He’s never told anyone about this, not even Jeff. “The only time I ever heard that man say anything about God was when he was trying to beat the queer out of me,” he says, laughing the way Steve laughed downstairs. Humorless. Almost hysterical. “And he— he called Wayne to tell him everything because he…”

Eddie trails off, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.

“I told myself no one would ever know when Wayne took me in, but I swear it was like overnight, the whole town knew,” he chokes. “Because of— of my hair, or my clothes, or— or because people associate queerness with evil and— and Satanism, I don’t fucking know, but everyone knew and I…”

He covers his face, his face hot with embarrassment as a sob escapes him, and it feels so stupid to be so upset right now, but Steve just waits patiently, listening and looking at him.

“People keep taking it,” Eddie chokes, his face wet with tears now, looking at Steve desperately. “It’s mine, and people keep taking it from me.”

Steve nods.

And then he’s coming close and wrapping his arms around Eddie, and Eddie is crying into his shoulder, his hands clutching at Steve’s shirt the way they clutched at the tablecloth earlier, his fingers gripping the fabric so tightly his knuckles ache. He’s shaking. But Steve’s hands feel steady as they run over his back, and Eddie wants to die.

Because Murray told them to have sex. And Steve is still here, holding Eddie while he cries, even though he knows Eddie is gay, even though Murray told the whole table that Eddie likes Steve, that it’s so painfully obvious that he likes Steve. That he’s pining, yearning.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his face into Steve’s neck, his shoulders shaking as he sobs, and Steve moves a hand to hold the back of his head, his fingers pressing into Eddie’s curls to cradle his skull. And it’s almost fucking tender, and Eddie doesn’t know how he got here. Or where he’s going to go.

Steve is murmuring to him. Quiet I got yous and It’s okays, his voice breathy and soft in Eddie’s ear. Eddie melts against him, and Steve holds him tightly, swaying with him, rubbing his back and scratching his fingertips over his scalp carefully the way he does when Eddie has nightmares.

Eddie whines into his neck, choking on his breath, and Steve’s arm tightens around his waist like he’s preparing to catch Eddie if he falls.

“I know,” he whispers softly. “It’s not fair.”

Eddie shakes his head.

It’s not fair.

It’s fucking bullshit.

The whole world thinks it knows him better than he knows himself. Even if they’re fucking right. It’s not fair. He’s never gotten to speak for himself, never gotten to really introduce himself.

He aches when he finally stops crying, his fingers relaxing but still holding Steve’s shirt loosely, and his hands are sore. Steve runs his hand through Eddie’s hair. He waits, holding Eddie close even though he isn’t crying anymore, touching him gently, kindly, as Eddie catches his breath.

“You know what I’m angriest at?” Eddie asks softly after a few moments, his voice weak and breaking from his crying. Steve touches his head again.

“What?” Steve whispers.

“...He’s fucking right.”

Steve is quiet. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut as they burn again.

And then Steve is shifting, holding the back of Eddie’s head, and Eddie blinks his eyes open to look at him. Steve looks into his eyes intently, and it’s almost too much, but Eddie can’t look away, his hands tightening on Steve’s shirt.

“About everything?” he whispers softly. Tentatively.

Eddie looks back and forth between his eyes, and he nods.

He feels sick again. He can’t breathe.

Steve’s hand moves to Eddie’s face, and he’s so fucking warm. His thumb brushes over Eddie’s cheek so lightly Eddie can barely feel it. And Steve’s face relaxes, like he’s deflating, as he touches Eddie’s face, as his other hand presses into the small of his back.

“I really fucking hate him,” Steve breathes. His eyes flicker across Eddie’s face, and they linger on Eddie’s mouth. Eddie whispers his name. Steve hesitates, stammering silently for a moment before, “Can you say it?”

Eddie steps back a little, and their hands fall even though they’re still close enough for Eddie to see the green in his eyes.

“...Say what?” he asks hesitantly. Steve looks at him, his eyes shining, and he looks so desperate suddenly.

“Everything,” he says breathlessly. “I wanna hear it from you.”

Eddie’s eyes fill with tears, but Steve looks like he’s begging, and Eddie is weak.

“I’m gay,” he says softly, whispering like he’s worried someone outside might hear. “And I…” He takes a breath. Steve’s eyes look back and forth between Eddie’s like he’s looking for it. “I have, like… a huge fucking crush on you.”

Steve’s eyes drop to Eddie’s mouth like he’s watching his lips form the words. Eddie is trembling. Steve suddenly feels like he’s across the room, like he’s far away even though they’re standing so close.

“I might fucking be in love with you, Steve, I…”

He chokes on his breath, and Steve is touching him again, reaching for his face and wiping away his tears carefully, stepping closer. Eddie’s hands find his waist, and he grips his shirt again.

Steve says his name.

It always sounds so nice in his mouth.

“You don’t– You don’t have to,” Eddie says, trying to tear himself away, closing his eyes as Steve holds his face and wipes his tears. “I know, it’s…”

“Eddie,” Steve whispers, his hands tightening on Eddie’s cheeks, and he’s so close now, their noses almost brushing. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

Eddie’s eyes widen. He leans back to see Steve clearly, and Steve looks so nervous that Eddie aches.

“Really?” Eddie asks weakly.

“I…” Steve pauses, brushing his thumbs over Eddie’s cheeks and licking his lips, hesitating. “I might be fucking in love with you too,” he whispers.

Eddie closes his eyes, exhaling as Steve strokes his cheeks again. He gasps for breath when Steve’s forehead touches his, his hands tightening on Steve’s shirt before he slides his hands over his waist gently. He can feel the heat of his skin through the fabric.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” Steve asks again, his breath soft on Eddie’s face.

“Yeah,” he chokes.

Steve’s palms press to Eddie’s cheeks, and Eddie’s hands clutch at Steve’s waist desperately when Steve’s nose nudges his, when their lips brush. He feels like he’s dying.

But Steve kisses him so softly, so sweetly. Holding his face tenderly in his hands and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips before pulling away to look at him, to check, even though Eddie is holding him against himself, even though Eddie’s chin lifts like he’s subconsciously searching for his mouth again.

Eddie’s eyes flutter open, and Steve is smiling at him. It’s such a soft smile, and Eddie forgets everything that’s happened today. Except Steve’s lips on his.

“Please,” he breathes. Begs. Pleads.

Steve kisses him again. One of his hands slides to hold the back of his head again, his fingers threading into Eddie’s curls, and his other shifts down to Eddie’s neck, his fingertips slipping under the hoodie as his thumb brushes over Eddie’s throat so lightly it tickles a little bit. Eddie’s hands press to Steve’s waist and slide to press into the small of his back, and he’s probably wrinkling the fabric of his shirt, but neither of them cares as they tilt their heads, as their lips part.

They pull away to look at each other after a few moments, close enough that they’re sharing breaths as they both breathe hard, as Steve’s fingertips scratch over Eddie’s scalp lightly and Eddie’s eyelids flutter for a second. And then Steve is tilting his head and leaning down to kiss Eddie’s neck, his fingers twisting in his hair to hold him in place, and Eddie is dying, letting out a whimper as his eyes close and his hands reach for Steve’s arms. His fingertips dig into the soft flesh of his upper arms, squeezing as Steve presses a slow kiss under his ear. His mouth is so warm.

Steve kisses him when he lifts his head, and Eddie kisses him back desperately, reaching to wrap his arms around his neck, whining when Steve’s hands find his waist and pull.

Then Steve pushes, reaching up to hold the back of Eddie’s head, and Eddie stumbles back, his fingers tangling in Steve’s hair and tugging when his back hits the wall. Steve’s hand blocks his head from the wall, and Eddie smiles against his mouth, gasping when Steve’s tongue slips across his lip.

“Steve,” he gasps, lightheaded as Steve sucks on his lower lip, as one of his hands slides under the hoodie to touch his skin. His palms are a little rough with calluses, scratching the sensitive scar tissue on Eddie’s waist lightly, and Eddie groans.

Steve pulls away with a gasp, looking at Eddie desperately, frantically, his other hand holding his face. His cheeks are flushed pink, and his lips are shining, and his hair is a mess, and Eddie wantshimwantshimwantshim—

“Do you wanna leave?” Steve asks, his voice rough, and Eddie looks at his mouth, still panting. “I… I don’t wanna see any of them, I just…” He’s breathless too. His hand runs over Eddie’s scarring again almost mindlessly as his thumb brushes his cheek. “Do you wanna go?”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes.

Steve smiles softly, his eyes shining at him, and he leans in to kiss him one more time, caressing his cheek. (Caressing. Jesus.) Eddie hums, savouring it before they part with a quiet, slick noise that seems to echo in the empty room.

Eddie feels lightheaded again, but he’s smiling like he’s sleepy as Steve shifts his hands to press his chin up, smiling at how pliant Eddie is. Eddie laughs under his breath, his hands holding Steve’s shoulders.

“I’m so fucking… relieved right now,” Eddie whispers, his head falling to rest on the wall behind him. Steve kisses him again before he pulls him close, hugging him tightly.

Eddie buries his face in Steve’s neck, wrapping his arms around him tightly, wanting to jump up and wrap his legs around his waist, to cling to him like a koala, wanting to climb inside him, to be as close as fucking possible. Steve exhales roughly, pushing a hand into Eddie’s hair.

Steve holds his hand as they leave, ignoring the others that are gathered in the living room, even though they’re clearly waiting for the two of them. Eddie lets the door slam shut behind them. Steve drives. Eddie reaches over and puts a hand on his thigh, squeezing gently as he looks out the windows and watches the world go by.

He’s kind of anxious about this, whatever it is. Anxious that he isn’t what Steve thinks he is, what Steve hopes he is, anxious that he isn’t enough for him.

But he’ll try his best, he knows he will. He’ll bring Steve fucking flowers, he’ll write him fucking poems if it makes him smile. He’ll ravish him the way he deserves, touch him the way he likes, tell him every chance he gets how fucking beautiful he is. He’ll kiss him good morning and learn how to make his coffee just right. He’ll memorize the pattern of his moles and name constellations on his skin.

He’ll remind him every single day, as long as Steve lets him have him, what he deserves.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie prompt #steddie one shot #steve harrington one shot #eddie munson one shot #stranger things #stranger things one shot

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kurogxrix · 1 month ago

Text

Hurts Me

Bucky Barnes x ex-avenger!reader

IN WHICH Bucky wakes up after a night at the bar with Sam, lonely with a distant dream of you, the girl he’s been in love with for years, in his bed. But was it all a dream?

WC: 2.9k

Warnings: ANGST, alcohol, mentions of drugging (nothing happens), suggestive.

A/N: wrote this in a rush trying to juggle between work and my writer’s block so don’t mind the fucked up timeline.

You’ve always played hard to get. At least that’s what Bucky’s always seemed to believe. A part of him wanted to acknowledge that maybe you actually didn’t want him, but he’d save that thought for the very least. He could almost remember the first time he’d try to court you, to his own words at least.

He had already retired from the whole Winter Soldier thing, busy crossing out names from his list like his therapist had suggested him to. Recovery was hard, especially when you live with the belief that you don’t deserve forgiveness and that the pain stems from your own wrongdoings. He couldn’t forget what he’d done under the control of hydra, he couldn’t even allow himself a proper night of sleep before the nightmares took over his mind.

In the path towards normalcy, Bucky could remember Sam’s meddling in his personal life. Trying to set him up with that cute waitress in town because it seemed like she’d already fallen for his charm. Besides that, it didn’t work out, and Bucky didn’t quite understand why Sam felt like a romantic relationship was required for Bucky to feel a sense of normalcy. He’d never rushed it, never felt the need to get married and father a couple children like the other men his age (both physically and chronologically, but being late could never scare the Winter Soldier).

He didn’t think much of it, never sought it, never craved it. That was all until he saw you…at least again. You with that pretty smile he’d seen before, those same lips he’d wished he’d tasted before. God, seeing you then, had altered the entirety of his beliefs.

Bucky remembered you clearly. The countless missions together. The late nights in the Avengers tower, with the friends you considered family all around laughing like you didn’t know any better. The slight touches, longing looks and hidden smiles. God, he can still remember falling in love with you like it was yesterday. You were all so happy, even though he was drowning in the type of guilt that you’re never quite sure you can swim back out of. You were always there, you’d promise you’d be. You guys had always been complicated, but you wouldn’t exchange it for anything in the world.

Then The fight happened. You’d lost so much in the endgame against Thanos, and in the process you’d both lost each other too. You didn’t see him since, and truthfully, you’d never really tried to. Bucky could still remember the last time he’d seen you, at Tony’s funeral dressed in all black. It didn’t defer from the usual, but that smile on your face wasn’t there, and you’d cowered and hid until you vanished with no trace. No goodbye, nothing.

Bucky didn’t realize how much your absences hurt until he’d caught himself checking his phone late at night when the midnight terrors wouldn’t let him sleep, trying to see if you’d at least responded to the abundant amount of calls he’d sent. You weren’t there anymore, he’d looked everywhere for you, and you didn’t even bother telling him. You didn’t want him to know and you probably didn’t even care. And it hurt Bucky to know because he cared, and falling in love with you hadn’t been an option, but he would have never called it a curse.

Sitting on the floor of his apartment, back against his sofa, Bucky’s eyes lay strained on the window by the kitchen sink. Despite the bright city lights, he could see the bright lights shining clearly all the way up in the sky, and in the deepest crevices in the heart many doubted he had, Bucky could only wish you both were staring at the same stars tonight.

“I don't really think it’s a good idea, I haven't danced since the 30’s.” Bucky grumbled, nursing a hefty glass of whiskey in his right hand. The other laid flat against the smooth surface of the bar, neon lights and loud music blasting from all corners of the club. Sam stood beside him, trying to tend a hand to his stubborn ex-soldier friend that was too busy sulking and nursing his typical alcohol of choice.

“C'mon man, it’s nearly been a whole ass year! You’ve gotta move on some day." Sam complained, rolling his eyes as the super soldier dismissed him with a wave of his hand. Bucky took another sip of his drink, blue eyes scouting the array of bottles behind the bartender. She was a pretty woman, brown hair framing her face with that cute heart shaped hair-clip by the side of her ear. Any man would have wanted to take her home with the outfit that she was wearing, but Bucky felt a tinge of disappointment when he realized that he wasn’t part of these men.

It’d kill him to be hung up on you forever, especially after you’d left with no excuses and no apologies. Though forever was in a hell of a long time, for now, Bucky was more than happy to keep on drinking until he’d have to pull Sam off the dance floor. Talking about his companion, it wasn’t hard for Bucky to spot him dancing amidst the mass of sweaty bodies. Bucky rolled his eyes playfully at his friend, whom he had a hand across the hip of some pretty blonde woman he’d probably never stop hearing the end of by tomorrow morning.

A weird, unsolicited feeling struck Bucky’s chest at the sight of the blondie so careless and free in the arms of the guy he considered his best friend. He wished he could have that, something so passionate that could make him feel the way he prayed for every night before the nightmares took over. He could’ve, really, he could have any woman in this club with just a simple flick of his wrist, and yet Bucky knew that he’d never feel fulfilled with anyone else but you.

You’d ruined him, and honestly Bucky didn’t know if he wanted it any other way.

He couldn’t quite remember when the night had gotten blurry, but not from the alcohol, no, that didn’t do any good on his system besides the warm feeling of alcohol trickling down his throat. No, he couldn’t quite put his hand on what made the other people in the room disappear but him and this stranger, luring him onto the dance floor like a siren on a missions

Suddenly, the idea of dancing didn’t sound so bad, and maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to retrace those steps he’d put to work back in the 30’s. The night was young, the sky was a starry mess, and as the night advanced and his hands got bolder, the apartment keys in his back pocket called for him like a sin.

Waking up the next morning, Bucky couldn’t quite remember how the night had ended besides the blurry face that held his arm during the whole walk out. The quick text he’d sent Sam was also blurry, but a quick check to his phone could change that.

There was this weird feeling clinging to him since the second his eyes had pried open, and a strange weight to his chest that felt unfamiliar. Like blurry puzzle pieces of the previous night that he couldn’t quite put his hands on, scrambled and lost. It wasn’t like he had been drunk, alcohol could do little to him because of his accelerated system, and he definitely couldn’t have been drugged either, it’d take a hefty dose to intoxicate the heavily scarred ex-soldier.

Bucky knew one thing admises all, and it was that his mind had been completely overtaken by pictures and memories of you. Memories he couldn’t remember making when you’d still been part of his life, seemingly so real of you both hitting it off at the bar last night. And maybe it was his troubled mind playing nasty tricks on you, but the image of you sitting on a bar stool, clad in that little tight black dress that fit you oh so right wasn’t exactly unsolicited.

Bucky could still feel the remnants of his clammy hands, like he’d actually lived the thoughts. But no, it couldn’t be right. There was no way his mind would ever blur any night he’d spent with you, it was likely that he was just hallucinating. And yet, that wound you'd gotten during the fight against Thanos had scarred, and was sitting there perfectly on your neck like a trophy, one that screamed ‘I survived, and I'm still here in front of you’. Your eyes were just as lively as the last time he’d seen you in the tower, like the memories he’d always replay in his mind late at night.

That was it, Bucky was just so hung up on you that his imagination had made up a scenario of you in his head to keep him company during this lonely night. Different images of you were running wild in his head before he even had the chance to properly open his eyes, skipping scenes like a badly cut movie.

At some point the bar had disappeared and suddenly he was in a car. It wasn’t his, and with the way you had been drinking at the bar, he doubted it was yours either. Maybe he’d also imagined the way you’d sat so far away from him in the spacious range rover, the guilt practically radiating off of you. He could still picture reaching out for you, trying to mend the bridges that had collapsed along the way, pushing the two of you further away by the second. He’d probably hallucinated the rapid beating of his heart when he’d finally gotten you in his arms, after years of pushing and pulling, catching that stray tear rolling down your eye with his thumb as you begged him for forgiveness. Like he’d always prayed for.

He regrets imagining you telling him why you’d left without as much as a goodbye, telling him how much you’d missed him, craving him like something you just couldn’t allow yourself to have. Bucky wanted this moment to be real so bad, and yet as he wakes to find a strange weight in his arms, he dreads the worst.

No, Bucky wasn’t that type of guy. Wasn't the type of touch to bring home a woman when he’s grieving another, imagining her face while he’s sweet talking another, trying to picture her as someone that she was not.

No, he wasn’t like that. So why could he feel the warm breathing of someone else above his naked torso. Naked. God, he was naked.

‘No!’ his mind yelled at him as he sat up straight, disturbing the figure sleeping comfortably on his chest and making the covers slip off him and the mystery woman in the process. A sliver of skin caught his eyes, and Bucky forced himself to turn his gaze towards the ceiling like some prude.

His breathing stopped for a second, trying to stabilize himself to focus on anything but the woman still laying half on him. Regret already coursing down the deepest crevices of his body, shaking him for the vice he’d sworn he’d left back for the younger Bucky. He didn’t do casual anymore, and certainly not from random women he’d picked up at the club with little recollection.

But amidst everything else, Bucky felt most guilty for picturing you in his blurry memories rather than the random in his bed. He’d always vouch that he was a gentleman, and nothing about his current situation yelled gentleman to him. He’d been raised better, and if his mother was still here to see him today, lord forbid what she’d do to him.

“Bucky?” a soft spoken, half-still asleep voice spoke his name, cutting him off his self deprecation episode. Bucky paused, his body tensing further at the sound of the voice.

That voice…

Her voice…

Still, Bucky refused to glance down at the woman leaning on his muscled chest, afraid that his mind was playing tricks on him. He couldn’t afford the disappointment, and he doubted it would do any of them any good anyway. Yet, he couldn’t ignore the way the slightly calloused palm of a hand placed itself upon his chest, trying to anchor themselves up to meet his strayed gaze.

“Don’t tell me you’re already regretting last night..?” that voice again, he couldn’t quite bear the weight of it. But when had his conscience ever given him a rest, and when had anything ever been fair to him. Certainly not you, you hadn’t. But why was he praying to meet your gaze when he'd finally tilt his head down to meet this strange woman’s gaze, why did he feel like this every time he thought of you.

Deep in his thoughts, Bucky dismissed the feeling of a palm stretching across his jaw, cupping the side of his face like he meant a whole lot to her. Finally, he allowed himself to be handled as the woman pulled his face down, tilting his face with the smoothest movement of her wrist like she’d always meant to. And he didn’t mean to, but the noise that left Bucky’s throat at the sight of the figure before him was embarrassing.

She was beautiful, the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid his eyes on. Naked in all of her glory, her skin felt like heaven against his own. Hair tousled and tangled from the sleep (or lack of) beside the necklace she’d forgotten to remove before falling asleep. It was reflecting the sunlight peeking through his blinds directly into his face, but Bucky couldn’t stop staring at the way it looked beside that scar on her neck.

You’d never looked so beautiful then in his bed, besides him where you belonged.

That smile was plastered on your face, the same one you’d always give him before everything went to shit, and for a second, everything felt normal. Bucky’s never felt more in place than with you in his arms, the nakedness of the situation was just a bonus.

Naked, he was naked in bed with you. not some random woman, and suddenly it clicked that the pictures he’d ‘made-up’ in his head were real. The feeling of your hands on his biceps as you tried to stabilize yourself in the cab was real, the apology you’d spoken to him was real and suddenly in his trance, his mind had sparked a couple of new memories, ones where there was less talking and a whole lot more touching.

Bucky had little time enjoying the more lewd images of you before you snapped him out of his trance, this time instead to leave his arms and dive right back under the warm covers. The cold feeling you left behind as you left his arms was unsolicited, and in that instant, Bucky knew that he’d kill to have you in his arms forever. You didn’t seem to mind, the covers would do the job just as well if Bucky was too busy reminiscing last night to keep you warm.

It brought a smile to his face, seeing you so comfortable under his covers, in his bed, a few centimeters shy of his arms where he could have you in an instant. And before he even had the chance to ask about anything, you got ahead and did the job for him. Reaching out to pull him right where you wanted him.

In the safety of his arms, you allowed yourself the comfort to dig your head further in Bucky’s plush pillow. His hand filled in the void in the curve of your waist, and covered your skin in shivers as he dipped further down your back. With his head tightly tucked above yours, you knew his mind still troubled him. He was still Bucky after all, but you wouldn’t change it for anything. And the hurt you’d left behind along with Bucky was to be addressed, and you’d spend the rest of your life repenting.

“Don’t worry about it, you can ask me anything you want after we wake up again. Then you can tell for yourself if I'm real or not.” you mumbled like you could read his mind, but it wasn’t hard to tell what he was thinking when you could feel Bucky’s gaze on you, trying to decipher if you were really there or if he’d reached a new level of lucid dreaming where he could feel you.

You didn’t bother to wait for an answer before succumbing to the slumber, and he didn’t bother saying anything as he watched you. He’d gladly wait until you awaken again for answers, but for now he couldn’t fall asleep again. Not when he was holding the love of his life, months after she’d wordlessly disappeared, just there naked in his bed. And lord, forbid he could sleep when all he could replay were those images of last night in his head.

He doubted you guys would get any sleep in that night.

IM BAAAACK :)) (for now)

#bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x ex!avenger!reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes friends to lovers

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animeniacss · 11 months ago

Note

hiiii are you taking requests? 🥹 i was wondering if you could write a fluffy second chance romance trope with mingyu x reader? 🫶🏻

I am so sorry this took a million years longer than I wanted! But it's all done and I hope you enjoy!! <3

Synopsis: Mingyu's job as an idol is very demanding, but you guys want to make it work.

Tags: Idol!Mingyu, Canon, Second Chances, Fluff, A bit of angst, Flashbacks

Length: approx. 3.2k words

Mingyu x Reader - The Good Easily Outweights the Bad

You were sitting on the couch, a book in your hand and a coffee on the end table. Your TV has been playing a shuffled mix of different songs, the ambiance changing from power ballads to Western indie pop, to whatever was the top-charting idol song in the past few weeks. You didn’t mind, though. It was a type of chaos you never minded, a type of chaos you preferred.

One that at times, you even missed.

A familiar rumbling of thunder came up on the television screen and you didn’t even need to look up from your book to feel your lips quirk up into a sad smile. When you did, however, it was just in time for the familiar piano sounds to click into view. A familiar chant was called into the screen, and the song began.

You set your book down, eyes focused solely on the song. MAESTRO by Seventeen was playing, their most recent comeback and it was one that frequently kept coming up in your song rotation. Mostly because you put it there.

Well, you and Kim Mingyu himself, that is.

“Have you seen it? Have you seen it?!” Mingyu was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he stood in front of your TV. You smiled up at him from the couch, lounged in your sweats and a large tee shirt - it was his - as he typed in the name of their newest video to the search bar.

“You told me to wait for you to come over, Gyu,” you said behind a giggle. Mingyu turned to you, laughing shyly as he remembered the request. Once the video was up, he walked to the couch, immediately plopping at your side and tugging you under his arm, resting his hand around your waist. Your eyes flickered up to him as the video began, amusement and fondness in your features as you turned back to the video.

Mingyu always liked playing his music when the two of you were together. Not because he was vain or expected praise, if anything it was the opposite. You would compliment his scenes and he’d blush; lopsided smile and all as he told you to ‘knock it off’. However, you never did, and he never protests under real stress. So, you assumed he played the videos because he liked being teased. And you liked to tease. It was good like that.

Mingyu hasn’t been to your apartment in a little over two weeks.

Not because you didn’t want him to be. You always wanted him to be. But it wasn’t possible, not the way it used to be. Mingyu’s job as an idol was demanding, especially with all of his success these past few years. From a brand ambassador who traveled the world, to a variety show participant, to a pop idol, Mingyu’s time was spread thin in his career. That meant little, if any, of that time was for you. And that killed you.

As the song came to an end, another was right on the horizon. It stayed like that for a good three or four songs, and you did not have the heart to change it. You made it louder. Maybe it was because it brought back good memories, of times when the two of you were still able to cuddle on the couch and watch music videos or TV until he had to go for the night. Or even better, until the two of you fell asleep on the couch and woke up in the middle of the night still cuddled up the way you had been.

You got up as the song changed once again, making your way into the kitchen. End tables and shelves were still littered with photos of the two of you, of you two with both his members and your friends. You knew after a month of not being involved with MIngyu anymore, you really should put them away. Not throw them out, but store them somewhere. But looking at them made you feel a bit of comfort, and you didn’t have enough time or money to go out knick-knack shopping for replacements. So there, the memories sat.

You opened the fridge, pulling out a tupperware of leftovers from the previous night. You popped open the plastic, the smell of leftover fried rice making your belly rumble and your mind race.

“Gyu, I’m starving, babe.” You whined, laying your head on the table. Mingyu chuckled from the counter, turning to look at the pan he was currently frying up rice in.

“I said we should order something in because it’s so late.” he reminded.

“But I haven’t seen you, and I missed your cooking.”

“And that is why I am currently in your kitchen, cooking.” He nodded. You sighed. “Ahh, don’t worry.” You heard footsteps crossing the little kitchen, and when you looked up from the table, Mingyu leaned down to plant a kiss on the top of your head. “It’ll be done in five minutes.”

“Alright, then I’ll set the table.” you said, getting up and heading over to your cabinets and grabbing two plates. You poked your head over at Mingyu as he returned to the cooking, smiling. “It smells good.”

Mingyu chuckled, almost shy at the compliment. “Thank you~.” he said.

Your fried rice wasn’t anything like his, but it was still good, and you popped it in the microwave to reheat. As you rested your hips on the counter, you scanned the empty apartment. It was usually empty, since you were the only one who lived there. But with Mingyu, it felt less empty. Not just because he was a towering gym rat who looked a bit beefier every time you saw him, but because his laugh echoed from the living room to the bedroom when he watched TV while you tried to sleep, or his shriek at the sight of a spider echoed from the balcony and most likely all the way back to HYBE.

Ready to Love started playing on the TV, and your eyes cast up to see the beginnings of the music video.

The beep of the microwave reclaimed your attention momentarily as you took out the food, grabbing a utensil and returning to the couch, nestling beside the book you left bent right down the middle as to not lose your place in it. The meal was quiet, minus the music playing on the TV. Most of them have been this past month when it was just you home for dinner. You popped the leftovers into your mouth, pursing your lips together.

“I have our first music show performance for maestro tomorrow.” Mingyu said, sliding his shoes on. “Why am I nervous?”

“You’re always nervous.” you chuckled, resting on the wall. “But you’ll do fine. I’ll be sure to vote, okay?” Mingyu turned to you and smiled.

“I’ll do my best if I know you’re watching.” He said. You nodded. “I’ll try to come by again soon, okay?”

“Don’t push yourself…” you said softly, and Mingyu’s smile dropped. Maybe it was because yours did as well, you could feel it in your face. He stepped closer, brushing some hair out of your face.

“I’ll try to come by again soon, okay?” he asked. “Our schedules are really packed but I will.”

“I know.” you said. Mingyu smiled, leaning down to offer a quick kiss. “I”ll text you when I get back home, and then go right back to sleep!” he pouted. “I don’t want to hear any of this nonsense that you were up all night gaming!”

“I won’t!”

“Wonwoo lives in my apartment, I will hear him.” he said. You laughed behind a hand, and Mingyu’s grin widened.

“Okay, okay. Goodnight, Gyu.” you said, watching as he grabbed the last of his things and headed out the door, offering one more glance and smile as he headed out the door.

His schedule really did pack up after that, from music shows to runways to modeling shoots. Everyone wanted a piece of Kim Mingyu, it seemed. Everyone including you. But you told yourself never to be selfish when it came to his career, it was in his life long before you. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Closing the tupperware, you returned to the kitchen and discarded it. Washing it would be a tomorrow you problem. You felt tired all of a sudden. You pressed your back onto the couch, finally clicking off the TV and really dropping the apartment into silence. Your book fell to the floor, but you left it, eyes cast up to the ceiling. Your felt your chest tighten, knowing tomorrow would be another day that Mingyu would be anywhere except here with you. You tried not to let it hurt, but God you just couldn’t help it.

“Think of something positive, something good.” You mumbled to yourself in the dim lighting of your apartment. You closed your eyes, rolling through the endless cavern of positive memories.

“It’s nice out tonight.” you said, leaning over the railing of your balcony and admiring the view. Mingyu had a few consecutive days off, and immediately rushed to spend them with you. You turned to him as he sipped a beer, resting comfortably on one of your outdoor chairs. He looked up at you and smiled.

“It is.” he said. After a second, he pulled out his phone, reaching up to angle it towards the sky. You stepped out of the way, allowing him uninterrupted access to the sky and stars above.

“Is this for Instagram?” you asked curiously. Mingyu laughed, his shoulder shaking a bit.

“Maybe.” he said. A few more taps on his phone, and without looking up, he moved his hand in your direction. You watched him motion for you to take a few steps towards him. “I want one of you.”

“What?” you asked. “You can’t post that.” Despite your protest, you were already shifting yourself.

“I won’t.” he assured. You tilted your head, but Mingyu only grinned. “Smile.”

“Gyu-.”

“I’ll be in Europe for a while…I want something to look at when I miss you.”

You felt your heart swell, a smile forming on your face as Mingyu snapped the picture. He turned it around to examine the results, nodding. “Perfect..”

When you took your next breath, it was shaky. Not the best memory to recall it seemed. They had just gone on their Europe trip, making appearances in both Paris for UNESCO and London for Glastonbury. Both of which were big opportunities, wonderful opportunities that Mingyu talked about endlessly with you when he and the other members found out. However, with rehearsals and travel preparations, your limited time with Mingyu decreased even more.

And then you had to do it.

“A break?” Mingyu asked. “Wh-why?”

“I just think it’s best.” you said softly. “You have a lot going on and I don’t want to tie you down.” You leaned back in your chair, sighing. “Just while your schedule is full. I want you to focus on that, and when-.” you paused. “If things calm down, then-.”

“When has that ever happened successfully?” Mingyu asked. There was no malice in his words, not even all that much hurt. He just genuinely sounded like he wanted to know when ‘a break’ has worked, as if knowing it has worked will make a difference in if it will this time.

“Gyu…” you sighed. “I just want you to do your job without anything tying you down…”

Mingyu didn’t put up much of a fight after that, finally agreeing that, for now, his focus should be on his upcoming intense schedules. He slipped on his shoes, turned to you with a smile and kiss goodbye as usual, and left the apartment. Neither of you have spoken since.

You felt your throat close up, wiping your eyes. Mingyu would be home from that schedule, if he wasn’t already. Usually, he’d fly directly to your apartment and cling to you for hours, maybe even all night.

“I missed you so much!”

“I missed you too, Gyu! Tell me everything!!”

That wouldn’t happen this time.

Just as you regained yourself, closing your eyes to try and get some sleep, there was a knock at your door. Your head snapped over, breath stilling. A second passed, and there was another knock, followed by a deep familiar voice calling out your name.

“M-mingyu?!” You called, sitting up. You swung your legs over the side of the couch, getting up and padding over to the door. In one swift motion the door was unlocked and flung open, Mingyu standing there out of breath. “What are you doing? Did…did you run here?”

“I had to.” he said. “I… we got back yesterday, I would have come then if I didn’t crash on the couch as soon as I got home and-.”

“Gyu, wait.” You said, reaching out to take his hand. “C-come in…come in…” Mingyu sighed, walking in and closing the door behind him. “You look so out of breath. Do you want water?”

“Ah, yes. Please…” he said. You spun to head into the kitchen, motioning him into the living room as he trudged in, plopping himself down. “Yeesh! I forgot how far your apartment is from me.” A chuckle escaped your lips as you grabbed a water bottle, walking over to the couch and passing it to him. “Thanks…” he cracked it open and took a long sip.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, not intending for it to come out as harsh at it did. Mingyu looked up at you, and that was when you saw a plastic bag at his side. Your features softened almost immediately at the familiar convenient store logo. His lips quirked up into a smile.

“It’s only been a few weeks. You know I bring our favorite convenient store meal every time I come back from a long trip.” He leaned over, opening the bag and pulling out chips, ice creams, rice balls, and ramen. You opened your mouth to speak, but Mingyu was already a step ahead. “I know what you said before I left…” he said. “I tried to stay away, or at least call and ask if I could come by. But…it just didn’t feel right to not come here right away.” he looked at you.

“Oh…”

He motioned the ramen cups to you. “I won’t stay long. But at least humor me and eat some, hm?”

With only a bit of leftover fried rice in your system, you were weak to refuse. Taking the cups, you returned to the kitchen one final time, Mingyu following behind the store the ice cream for later.

The kitchen was quiet as the two of you sat at the table, waiting for your ramen cups to cook. Mingyu drummed his finger along the table.

“I saw the photos.” you said quickly. “And the performances. You guys were amazing.”

MIngyu looked almost shocked. “You actually watched them?”

“Of course,” you chuckled. “I told you I would.”

“Yeah, but that was before…” Mingyu trailed off. You sighed, looking down at your hands.

“I know.” you said. “But I still promised.” Mingyu chuckled a bit. Another long silence, and you sighed.

“Mingyu, I’m sorry.” you said. His eyes shot up as the words tumbled out of your mouth a bit faster than you had intended, if you had intended at all. But they were out now. “I…was so stupid.”

“Stupid? No, come on now.” he said. “Don’t say that.”

“No, I was.” you said. “You make every effort to keep me in your life, even when you’re busy and I toss it all away for no reason.” you sighed. “The minute I said that we needed a break I wanted to take it back but I didn’t know if I could at that point.”

Mingyu was silent for a second, opening his ramen cup. The steam rose and hit his cheeks, and he smiled. Grabbing his chopsticks, he stirred, leaning back in his chair to talk. “I talked to Jeonghan and Shua about it while we were away.” he said. “And I had time to think about it myself, too.”

“Oh?” You frowned. Jeonghan and Joshua were his best friends, not yours. You knew if it was appropriate, they’d side with him in a heartbeat. And it was definitely appropriate. “What did they say?”

“Well.” he took a bite of his food and chewed, processing his thoughts before he said. “They told me that it made sense why you felt that way. And that neither of us are in the wrong, but both of us were stressed with my schedules.” He shrugged. “So, I told myself I’d give you space when I came back.” he smiled. “Wait until my schedules calmed a bit and then go from there.”

“So-.” you motioned to the ramen and snacks in the fridge. “Why didn’t you?”

He chuckled, a bit of pink on his cheeks as he replied: “I just missed you too much.”

You felt yoru breath catch in your throat at hose words, inhaling a deep breath. “I missed you too. Even though it’s only been a few weeks.” Mingyu chuckled.

“I know.” he said. “We’ve been apart longer, but for some reason these few weeks felt unbearable.” he set his chopsticks down, licking his lips. “Maybe because I’m usually so used to knowing that you’d be here when I got back.” You chuckled. “I was worried you’d slam the door in my face.”

“Oh, come on, what do you take me for?” you pouted, and Mingyu threw his head back to laugh.

“I know.” he assured. A deep breath. “I’d…like to try again, though.” he said. “I don’t want to be on a break.” he said. “If you really feel strongly about it…I won’t dare push you.” he shook his head. “But, regardless, I hope that until we figure everything out, I can still come by from time to time.”

“Ah, Gyu…” you sighed, finally reaching out to mix your own ramen. “I want to try again too.” His eyes sparkled a bit from across the table as he took another bite into his mouth. “Like I said, the minute I suggested it…I wanted to take it back. I’m sorry…”

Mingyu got up, ramen up and all, pulling him chair to your side and sitting beside you. When you looked up, he leaned forward and kissed your forehead.

“Just don’t let your ramen get cold, and I’ll forgive you.” he teased. “Or at the very least, give it to me.” You chuckled, resting against his shoulder.

“...So, tell me everything that happened in Europe.” you said, putting a bite of food in your mouth. “I heard your pants ripped.” He groaned.

“Do we have to start with that?” he asked, and you covered your mouth to laugh.

“I got these for you!!” Mingyu outstretched a convenient store bag in your direction. When you looked down, you saw ramen, chips, and ice cream inside. He had just gotten home from the Be the Sun tour the day before, and since you couldn’t meet him at the dorms or the airport, he promised to come to you once he was fully unpacked. “I thought we could snack and I’ll tell you all about the tour!”

You smiled, reaching out and taking the bag, setting it aside before pulling Mingyu into a tight hug. He immediately returned it, hands squeezing around your waist as he nestled into your hair. “I missed you so much.” he said.

“I missed you too, Gyu.” you said. Pulling back, you looked up at him. “Tell me everything!”

If you want to make a request you can read any little rules/notes in my request blog

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mountttmase · 3 months ago

Text

Just For Us

Note - happy valentines pookies 🩷 I’ve been sitting on this one for a while so I hope you like it 😘 thank you to @saltyheartnightmare for always providing me with ideas and letting me run with them 😂 feedback would be appreciated xoxo

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 6k

Warnings - fluff and angst

Another week over you told yourself as you shut your laptop down. Sighing as your eyes fell to the window that overlooked the garden next to you but it was pitch back outside and all you could see was your own reflection staring back at you. A tired and grumpy version of you that you were starting to not recognise.

You hadn't heard anything going on in the house, the time just ticking past 5pm and you knew you were still all alone in here. The thought of walking out of your home office into a dark and empty home upset you more than it should have, but then again everything was upsetting you at the moment.

Mason had promised he’d be here, letting you know that training would be over around 3pm and he’d make sure to get home at a reasonable time so you could spend your first valentines living under the same roof together, but once again he was nowhere to be seen.

You got why he was always in late, he was almost done with his recovery and had been staying later most evenings in order to get himself into a good place but you missed him and with everything else going on in your life right now all you wanted to was to be wrapped up in the arms of the man you loved.

You hadn't lived with Mason long, moving in at the end of November so you were approaching the three month mark but you felt like everything had taken a downturn for you since then. It was nothing to do with Mason himself, he was a dream most of the time and was looking after you just like he’d promised but it was everything you’d left home that was bringing you down.

Manchester was so far from everything you knew, having grown up in London you never envisaged living so far away when you had everything you needed right there but there was one thing your favourite city didn’t have anymore, and that was the boy you were in love with.

It wasn’t often you thought back to how you first met Mason, but since it was valentines day and you were in your feels a bit you let your mind wander back to that cold but sunny morning. It was your favourite type of weather on your favourite day of the year, pumpkin picking with your best friend, and as you reached for the last wheelbarrow your hand brushed against someone else’s as they did the same.

‘Oh shit, sorry. You take it, I can wait’ you heard, turning to your right to see quite possibly the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen and the sight of him filled you with nerves.

‘Oh n-no please you have it’ you stuttered, your face warming as your heart threatened to beat out of your chest but you could see the tops of his cheeks turning pink too and you thought he looked adorable.

‘It’s fine’ he laughed, motioning for you to take it but you knew you’d mess up somehow now if you had to try and get it out in front of him and you weren’t up for embarrassing yourself whilst he watched on.

‘No please, I’m not even sure I know how to use this thing properly and I’ll just end up taking someone’s legs out’ you joked and as you both shared a giggle, a worker came with a new batch of clean ones.

‘Here let me grab you one, these look smaller’ he nodded as he walked over to get one for you and you used the time he was facing away from you to give him a once over. You most definitely liked what you saw and as he turned back to face you, you wondered if he’d caught you staring at his bum. You gave him a warm smile though as he placed it in front of you but you were trying to stall as you still felt awkward pushing it in front of him.

‘Thank you…’

‘I’m Mason’ he smiled, nodding his head shyly before he gave you a look as if to silently ask what your name was and you had to swallow a nervous lump before you told him.

‘Y/n’

‘Well y/n, if you see me running away from you please don’t take any offence, I’m just protecting my ankles’ he joked and you covered your mouth with your hand as you laughed at his silly joke.

‘I’ll keep that in mind’

‘Mase? You coming’ you heard, looking over to a woman with two kids in tow and you felt yourself deflate. Of course he wasn’t single, look at him, and as he called over that he wouldn’t be a second you kept your eyes on the floor.

‘Sorry I best get going, I don’t wanna upset the nieces’ he laughed and your eyes flashed up to meet his. Relief ripping through you at the knowledge that was presumably his sister. ‘See you out there?’

‘I hope so’ you whispered. Your answer taking him by surprise a bit as his blush deepened but you just just picked up your wheelbarrow and went in search of your bestie so you could crack on with your day.

It was like you couldn’t get away from each other, him joining the line behind you for food, your eyes constantly catching as you browsed the little pumpkins in the wooden crates and once you’d made it out into the main field it felt like he was following you. Always in the same section and your friend had seemingly picked up on the way you kept looking at each other and would steer your wheelbarrow in his direction.

It was fun watching him play with the two little girls, posing for pictures with them and helping them pick out ones for them to carve and he looked as though he was having as much fun as them. Not caring how goofy or silly he looked, he just wanted to make them smile and from the constant giggles it was clearly working.

‘You need a hand with that one?’ You suddenly heard from behind you. Mason's voice shocking you slightly but as he brushed up next to you and you could tell he was looking at the same pumpkin you were.

‘Do you think it’s too big?’ You asked and you knew it was a stupid question. It was one of the biggest ones in the whole field but it was perfect and you just needed one person to tell you it was okay to have.

‘Nah, you need to measure pumpkins with your heart’ he told sincerely. ‘If you want it, I’d say get it’

‘You know what, you’re right. I’m having it’

‘Here let me’ he offered. Picking it up effortlessly and placing it in your wheelbarrow for you before dusting himself off as he was now covered in dirt be he didn’t seem to mind.

He stayed with you for a bit as you spoke. His sister had taken the girls to the loo so he had a few minutes spare and he started off by asking if you’d taken anyone’s legs out yet. Seeming dissatisfied when you told him no but there was always time and you were lucky enough to see that heartbreaking smile of his again as he laughed before he caught sight of the girls coming back.

‘You’re really good with them’ you told him honestly and you could see him getting shy again as he laughed nervously.

‘I don’t live round this way anymore so I like to make it count when I’m here’ he told you and you wondered how far away he was now. You knew you wouldn’t get to ask or find out though, your bestie was standing like a lemon a few steps away as she pretended to look at the pumpkins and with his family coming back over you presumed you’d be torn apart again but before he returned to them he faced you a little more ‘Listen, at the risk of sounding like a crazy person, I took a picture of you earlier and I was wondering if I could send it you?’

‘You what?’ You laughed, watching his cheeks redden more than you’d ever seen to the point the bridge of his nose was also glowing.

‘Sorry, I saw you posing for some your friend was taking and I just thought you looked nice and wondered if you’d want a more candid one’ he mumbled shyly. ‘Shit, sorry I shouldn’t have said anything. I can’t delete it if you-‘

‘I guess I should give you my number then’ you whispered with a smile, holding your hand out for him to place his phone in and the look of relief that washed over his face made you chuckle.

As soon as you handed it back he had to go but you knew it was coming so you bid him a quick goodbye and not even five minutes later you felt your phone buzz in your pocket

It was a fairly brazen comment from you, but it seemed to do the trick and the pair of you were messaging for the rest of the day and well into the night. All tucked up in bed later as you giggled into your pillow and when you got onto the topic of where he lived now, since he’d mentioned not being here anymore, things took a bit of a turn.

You’d had no idea he was a footballer, you had never met one in your life and had no idea what it even all meant but he told you he didn’t want you to think of him as any different than you had done earlier. He was still the same guy, he just has a slightly strange job compared to the average person.

He was right though, coming across to you as just like any normal guy and as the weeks passed you could feel yourself starting to slip under his spell. It was never your intention to speak to someone who lived so far away and you knew that seeing him again would be difficult, even if he wanted to see you anyway, but you couldn’t help your feelings towards him no matter how much you told yourself nothing would amount to anything.

You didn’t expect him to go in fully and dress up exactly like him but when he showed you his onesie on face time his enthusiasm excited you. You’d never had a boy to do a couples costume with before and you weren’t even sure he that’s what he wanted when he was asking for costume ideas but you’d decided to shoot your shot and thankfully it had paid off.

He was staying with a friend but just as he promised, he came to get you from your house. You thought it might be awkward, the pair of you only seeing each other in person once but as soon as you saw him again it was like no time had passed. Him knocking on your door fully dressed up and you giggled as he gave you a kiss on the cheek after a big hug.

You didn’t live too far away thankfully and after 20 minutes or so in the car with him, he was pulling up to his friends house. It was unlike anything you’d seen and you tried not to let it show that you were that impressed so you just took his hand and let him lead you through. You felt awkward instantly though as you looked around as it was full of gorgeous girls in barely there outfits whilst you stood there in a big pink t-shirt and your hair in bunches. Mason picked up on you straight away though and pulled you closer to him by your waist.

‘You good?’

‘You could have told me it was that type of party’ you laughed, hiding your face in his neck but he just squeezed you and bumped the side of your head with his nose so you’d look at him.

‘What do you mean?’ He smiled, rubbing your back a little bit as he was confused and you were finding it hard to be mad at him.

‘Mason, there are girls here who look like they’ve just stepped off a runway and I look like… well this’

‘You look perfect’ he whispered, kissing your forehead gently. Your cheeks warming instantly as even though he was being pretty touchy this was the first proper bit of intimacy you’d had from him. ‘I’m not looking at what anyone else is wearing anyway’ he reassured you and you felt your face heat even more at how lovely he was being.

His hand very rarely left yours and if it did it was just so he could hold your waist or wrap his arm around you and considering it was his friends party filled with people he didn’t see too often you were surprised at how much he didn’t want to mingle. That every conversation you joined you wouldn’t stay in long as he’d ask you something and soon enough you’d be in your own world again and when you asked him why he just smiled brightly.

‘I know those boring bastards, but I don’t know you yet. Not as much as I’d like to anyway’ he teased as his eyes flickered all over you and you felt your knees go weak as he bit his lip.

He was the perfect gentleman, getting all your drinks for you and letting you know he’d look after you. Mason himself wasn’t drinking as he wasn’t allowed but you noticed all his friends were and you figured it was just because he’d promised to take you home and was making sure he could. Mason seemed like the type to have a great time without drink though however you were thankful you’d had a few to loosen you up a bit.

As the night came to an end, you both knew you didn’t want to part but as you still lived with your overbearing parents it made things difficult. It had taken you enough time to convince them to let you come here tonight so staying out all night was completely out of the question and when the house began to empty out you knew it was time.

‘I think I need the loo before we go’ you told Mason, and his sad smile told you all you needed to know.

‘I’ll show you where it is’ he smiled, taking you by the hand upstairs and when he pulled open a random door and flicked the light on you were met with a bright and airy guest bedroom. ‘Just through here. Everyone’s been using the main one so this should be cleaner’ he laughed and you popped a quick kiss on his cheek as you passed by.

Once you were out you waited for him whilst he popped in there. Having a look at yourself in the mirror to make sure you looked somewhat acceptable and he was out quicker than you thought he’d be so he caught you checking yourself out.

He was quick to come over and wrap his arms around you from behind whilst taking his phone out of his pocket to hand to you. Instructing that he wanted you to take a few photos of the pair of you together to commemorate your first Halloween but soon enough you stopped taking any pictures and he was just holding you.

‘Come on’ he huffed. Removing his arms from around your waist and you could tell he was deflated just from the sound of his voice.

‘What’s wrong?’ You asked as you turned to him and the playful pout on his face made you feel a little bit guilty.

‘I’ve been dreading this part all night’ he chuckled, pulling you into his chest now so he could hug you properly and when he tucked his head into your neck you couldn’t stop your smile. ‘Sulley doesn’t want to say goodbye to his Boo’

‘Oh Mase’

‘Stay with me tonight’ he whispered, pulling back to look at you pleadingly and you almost gave in then and there. ‘Please, boo’

‘Mase.. I can’t’ you breathed, shaking your head ever so slightly. ‘I’m sorry-‘

‘No I’m sorry, I’m being way too forward. It’s just I’m not here long and I want to spend as much time with you as I can’

‘I want that too’

‘But?’

‘My mum will kill me’ you laughed, realising how ridiculous you sounded but Mason seemed to understand and quickly popped a kiss on your cheek. ‘Maybe I could come up to Manchester soon and visit?’ You asked, shock taking over his face at what you were suggesting and you were certain yours looked the same as you hadn’t even thought about the words before they’d come out of your mouth.

‘Yeah? You’d want to’

‘Yeah of course. I’ve never been before’ you told him and the smile he sent you made your heart race. ‘I just think it might be a bit too soon for you know … all that. I’ve never-‘

‘No you’re right’ he laughed as he cut you off. ‘Sorry I’ve just been getting a bit ahead of myself I think. I don’t know if I’ve made it that obvious but I really like you’ he told you as his cheeks flushed and you knew yours were doing the exact same.

‘Really? I had no idea’ you teased but you knew you needed to be honest with him too. ‘I like you too’

It was the longest three seconds of your life. Watching his eyes flicker down to your lips as he moved closer to you and you were powerless to stop anything. Tilting your face up to meet his and before you knew it his lips were on yours.

This wasn’t like any kiss first you’d ever had before. It was slow and sexy and you both hummed into each other's mouths as his tongue brushed against yours playfully. Your heart racing in your chest as he ever so carefully moved his lips against yours and you knew you’d never be the same again after this.

‘Come on, I’ll get you home’ he whispered against your lips after you’d parted but you felt deflated instantly. You didn’t want to leave him now, not after the best first kiss you’d ever had but you knew it was the right thing to do.

‘Are you sure it’s okay? You know-‘

‘I can wait. You’re worth it’ he confirmed quietly and you didn’t realise how much you needed to hear those words. ‘I mean I got to kiss you, that's more than enough for me. I’m just being greedy really’ he winked and your heart felt lighter as you both giggled.

‘You’re right, you need to be cut off’ you joked but when he lent down to kiss you again you let him.

y/n

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y/n Happy spooky season 🧡

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masonmount wow whoever took that first one has got a great eye 👀

y/n thank you my sulley 🩵💜

Going to Manchester to see him was the beginning of the end for you. You loved it up there and you loved your time with Mason just as much to the point you’d just sob the whole way home each time you had to leave him and you knew he was always just as down as you were about it. Each time it getting harder and harder to say goodbye so when next Halloween came and Mason wanted to celebrate your first anniversary together you jumped at the chance to spend some quality time with him.

Moving to Manchester after just a year of dating was a risk, and you both definitely knew it, but when Mason brought up wanting you to move in with him at your anniversary dinner you wanted to jump at the chance. You knew in your heart you were going to be with Mason for a really long time and the thought of starting your lives together up there really excited you. Your mum took it pretty hard but she knew you’d have to leave home eventually but neither of you could have guessed it would have been so far away.

You mostly worked from home in London anyway, only needing to visit the office twice a month so after a quick chat with your manager about different options, she told you keeping you was more important and that working in Manchester would be no different than London so she was happy for you to make the move.

Mason seemed to be the most excited. Letting you pick out any spare room you wanted to turn into your office and you picked the one at the back that overlooked the garden. The main reason being that in the summer you knew you’d be able to watch him training out of the window, but you told him it was because it was near the kitchen and downstairs loo so you didn’t have that far to walk.

It was lonely sometimes, spending all day at home on your own and when work was finally done not having anyone to talk to. At home at least your mum would be there so you could talk about your days as you fought over what to cook, but the house being empty did nothing to cure the ache of loneliness that would settle in your tummy until Mason was with you.

You hadn't been here long enough to make friends of your own and the ones you’d left behind did nothing to help you feel less lonely. Carrying on like you didn’t even exist and going to all your favourite places without you as well as new places you’d always wanted to try. You tried not to take it to heart too much as you didn’t want them to stop living their lives but you thought it was funny how as soon as you were gone they suddenly had time for all the things you wanted to do when they never had before.

Not wanting to be a grump for too much longer you quickly glanced at your phone when you were finally ready to get up. No text or update from him to let you know he was going to be home later than planned and usually it wouldn't have mattered but you thought with it being Valentine's Day he would have made a touch more effort as you were meant to be having dinner together. Your tummy hurt as your sadness migrated into every fiber of your being and you knew it wouldn’t be disappearing anytime soon.

All the lights were off when you eventually made your way out of your office. Traipsing through the silent house to the front so you could look out onto the drive, however it only upset you more to see that his car wasn’t there and suddenly you weren’t hungry anymore. Wanting nothing more than to get into bed so you could sleep this awful mood away, but there was something that stopped you as soon as you made it upstairs.

You noticed the warm glow coming from the bathroom as soon as you reached the landing. The door was ever so slightly cracked open and you knew you hadn't left it like that so the light confused you. In the end you took a few cautious steps over so you could peek around the gap and the sight before you made your heart flutter.

There was Mason, hunched over the bath as he swirled his hand around the soapy water that was topped with rose petals. The scent of your favourite bubble bath filling the air as he checked the water temperature before he was standing back up and reaching for a lighter so he could continue to light the candles he’d set up in a row on the window. Watching and waiting until he’d grabbed a fresh towel to place on the warmer until you couldn’t help but open the door a little more and step inside.

You felt instant regret as soon as you did. This was clearly meant to be a surprise for you and you’d just marched in on him but the smile he gave you after the initial shock of seeing you made your eyes sting and as your face began to crumple, he was over to you in a flash.

‘What’s wrong, boo?’ He asked softly. Hands holding the tops of your arms as you tried to wipe your eyes but it was pointless as more tears came falling seconds after.

‘I didn’t know you were h-home’ you hiccuped, sounding completely ridiculous as you broke down into sobs, but just like always he took you as you came and listened intently. ‘I t-thought you’d be late a-again’

‘Well I’m a lot later than I wanted to be’ he told you softly. ‘I only got in about five minutes ago’

‘Where’s y-your car?’

‘I got a fucking flat tire, didn’t I’ he laughed but you could tell he was pissed off underneath. ‘Had to leave it at training cause I couldn’t get anyone out to fix it and then Luke dropped me home’ he explained before his face softened again and his voice came out in just a whisper. ‘Baby, tell me what’s wrong’

‘Sorry’ you blubbed. Covering your face with your hands again so you could hide yourself and thankfully he knew not to try and make you look at him. Simply wrapping his arms around your shaking body so he could pull you into his and when you felt his lips on your forehead shushing you gently you nearly lost it again.

He always knew what you needed, and right now all you needed was a big cry whilst he held you and whispered that everything would be okay until you found enough courage to take your hands away from your face and wrap them around his body.

‘You think I can’t tell that something’s been going on with you?’ He whispered, pulling back to look at you but when he realised you weren’t budging he just rested his cheek on the top of your head with a sigh. ‘I notice everything, boo’

‘I’m sorry’ you croaked, not even too sure what you were apologising for but it just felt like the right thing to say for hiding your emotions from him.

‘Don’t say that’ he told you as he squeezed you a bit tighter but you still weren’t ready to look at him. Holding him back just as tight as he rubbed your back and you could feel the love from him pour into you. ‘You gonna tell me what’s up?’

‘I don’t know, I just feel a bit down’ you mumbled, shrugging your shoulders as you wondered what you should say to him but you realised there was no point giving him half truths. ‘I've just been a bit homesick I think, it gets lonely in this house when you’re not here and I know you’ve been working really hard to get back into the team but I thought you’d forgotten about me tonight’

‘I’m sorry’ he breathed. ‘I know I haven’t been around as much lately and I know that hasn't helped with how you’re feeling. That’s why I wanted to get home early so I could do something nice for you and I couldn't even get that right’ he laughed. ‘And I know you miss your family, I miss mine too so I know how you feel and I know I’ve been a bit wrapped up in myself but I promise I’ll make it up to you. Starting tonight, yeah?’

‘What’s all this?’ You asked, finally pulling away as you could look at him and the sympathetic look on his face almost set you off again, but Mason was quick to kiss your forehead and look at you softly again.

‘Well I thought you deserved a bit of relaxation while I cooked for us’ he confirmed. ‘Happy valentines, boo’

‘Happy valentine’s, Masey’ you smiled, reaching up to give him a soft and sweet kiss. ‘What are you making?’

‘I’m not sure yet’ he laughed. ‘Any requests?’

‘Well I was hoping you would stay with me in here, I’ve missed you’ you told him shyly. ‘We can always order food’

‘Yeah? Okay let’s do that’ he nodded shyly. ‘C’mere, let’s get you in’

Mason helped to undress you so you were ready for your bath. Kissing your skin gently as he carefully removed each piece of clothing and helped you into the perfectly warm water as you felt all your troubles melt away into the bubbles.

He happily sat on the floor next to you as you chatted away and you finally opened up to him about how your friends had been acting with you lately as well as everything else you’d already mentioned. He sympathised with you as he sometimes felt that way himself and apologised for neglecting you for the last few weeks.

‘Come get in with me?’ You asked after 15 minutes or so, watching his eyebrows raise in shock as his cheeks turned pink but now you’d said it all you could think about was relaxing your body into his.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah why not’ you laughed. ‘I wanna feel close to you’ you pouted and you could see his blush deepening from a mile off. Watching him gently standing up so he could whip his clothes off and you shuffled down the tub a bit so he could slide in behind you.

You didn’t ask for it, but as he began to massage your shoulders you could have melted into the water. You didn’t realise how uptight and tense you were until his fingers began to work away at your knots and it felt so good a shiver ran up your spine. The warm water of your bath felt like a safe blanket lapping against you and you didn’t know what you’d done to deserve this type of treatment.

‘That okay?’ He murmured into the side of your head but it was like you could barely string a sentence together and your whole body felt like it was floating.

‘That’s perfect’ you mumbled, feeling more relaxed and loved than you had in weeks and you knew he was laughing at you as you felt his chest rumble against your back.

‘I’m not very good at this, but I’ve picked up a few tricks from having them done so often’ he laughed but soon enough his hands were traveling down your arms and holding you around your waist so he could hold you close and talk to you without any distractions. ‘So listen I need you to pack a bag tonight’ he mumbled in your ear and you turned your head to look up at him questioningly.

‘Are you kicking me out?’

‘No’ he laughed. ‘But I bet after that you could do with a proper massage, right? Well I’ve booked us into a spa for the weekend with a slightly delayed valentines dinner tomorrow night. It’s in London though so we’ll have a bit of an early start if that’s okay’’

‘I thought we weren’t making a fuss’ you whispered, your face breaking out into a smile so wide your cheeks hurt but he was looking back at you so lovingly it was like you could feel him coursing through your veins.

‘I know, but you deserve it’ he affirmed. Kissing your forehead softly as he stroked his thumbs over your skin ‘Then Sunday we’ve got lunch with your parents. I organised it the other day so I think that’s worked out pretty well’ he winked, feeling tears well in your eyes again for the millionth time that night but this time it was for a whole different reason.

‘What? Really’

‘Yes’ he nodded. ‘I knew you must have been missing them and since we’ll be down there I thought we could make the most of it’

‘Thank you’ you gulped. Reaching up to kiss him properly and it was like you were having your first kiss all over again, carefully kissing each other like you had all the time in the world.

When you were both ready to get out, Mason jumped out first to grab your towel from the heater before walking you back over to your shared bedroom to get changed. A huge bunch of red roses on the bed waiting for you and you had to tell yourself to hold it together as you’d you’d done tonight was cry.

Mason grabbed you a pair of shorts and one of his favourite comfy tops that you loved to wear for you to change into and while he was putting in your food order, you grabbed an overnight bag and began to pack.

‘Where are we going for dinner tomorrow night, Mase?’ You questioned as you fingered through some of your nicer things on your rack but you didn’t want to be overdressed if it was somewhere more casual.

‘It’s a surprise’

‘But I need to know what to pack’ you pouted, hoping you’d be able to get a little more from him than that but he seemingly didn’t want to give too much away.

‘Something nice’ he shrugged, locking his phone before standing up to join you and you placed your hands on his chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

‘Those new pjs you got me for Christmas are nice, maybe I’ll just wear those’ you teased, hoping you could taunt him into telling you and from the way he rolled his eyes you knew it was working.

‘Okay fine’ he laughed. ‘You should pack that black dress, you know the one you’ve been saving for a certain restaurant’

‘You didn’t’ you breathed, not knowing if he was just messing with you or if he’d actually got the pair of you into the restaurant you’d always wanted to try but from the nod of his head you knew he was making your dream come true. ‘Mase’

‘I know you were meant to go there with your girlfriends and I know I was meant to get you a table and never did cause I’m a rubbish boyfriend and I forgot’ he laughed, bumping his nose against yours as you both giggled before his face got serious ‘but I know they’ve been trying all the places you wanted without you so I thought we could keep this one just for us’

‘Thank you’ you pouted, reaching up to kiss him gently and he deepened it straight away. You hadn’t kissed each other like this in days and you could have quite easily taken it further but it was Mason who pulled away first much to your dismay.

‘Easy there, boo. We’ve got food on the way and there’s nowhere near enough time for me to do what I want with you’ he told you lowly, his voice thick and warm like honey and it made your insides quiver. ‘I’ll make it worth your while if you wait’

‘You always do’ you winked and you noticed how he blushed at your words.

‘Come on boo, we’ll go set the table yeah? Eat like proper humans for a change’ he laughed as he took your hand and you laughed along with him as he led you out of your room. Your mood a lot lighter than it was just over an hour ago and you couldn’t wait to finally spend your first Valentine’s Day under the same roof with the boy you loved most in the world.

y/n

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y/n quick trip home for some well needed downtime and a visit to somewhere I’ve always wanted to go with my valentine ♥️

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masonmount anything for my girl ♥️

y/n love you sm 🥰 🤭

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livwritesstuff · 1 year ago

Text

Steve’s oldest daughter Moe is unusually quiet on the drive home from her college apartment in New York City.

She was supposed to be doing this drive with her younger sister Robbie (who had bullied Steve and Eddie into letting her bring a car with her to college), but then Robbie and her friends had actually managed to squirrel away enough money for an impromptu trip to D.C. for their spring break, and Moe had still wanted to visit home even without a ride.

Steve had made a whole show acting all put out over having to make the four hour drive between her school in NYC and their house in the Massachusetts suburbs (twice, he’ll add — he’s been on the road for six hours so far with a couple more to go) but, truthfully, there isn’t much he wouldn’t do to spend time with his kids, especially since the older two have firmly graduated to young-adult status, and he easily could have put her on a train.

“So what’s goin’ on with you, Moe?” he finally asks when the quiet stretches a little to far.

Moe shrugs, and then she says, “I was wondering something.”

“Go for it.”

“You and Dad, like…you were older when you started dating, right?”

Steve pauses for a moment, allowing himself to consider what might qualify as older to his twenty-one-year-old daughter.

“I guess it depends on what you mean by older,” he settles on telling her.

“I mean, you weren’t in high school anymore, even though you knew each other in high school.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods, “I was halfway through grad school, so twenty-six, I think, and you know Dad’s not even a year older than me.”

Moe nods in return, and then she asks, “And you were friends before anything else happened? Like, for a while?”

“Uh-huh,” Steve replies, “Dad, and Aunt Nancy, and Aunt Robin were my best friends. Still are, obviously, just…different over time.”

“But, like, how–” Moe stops, and Steve can tell without needing to look away from the road to check the way her eyebrows are furrowed, the way they’re crinkled in the middle just like they always are on the rare occasions Moe can’t find the words she needs. She lets out a short exhale, “How did you know that it changed?” Before Steve can answer, Moe shakes her head, “How did you know that what you were feeling wasn’t, like, friend things anymore? Or, like, that it was more than just friend things.”

“Uh,” Steve pauses, running a hand through his hair, “Honestly, Nancy kind of told me.”

Moe’s head turns in his direction.

“Aunt Nancy told you?” she asks, “Pop…that’s so lame.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happened.”

“Why?”

Steve thinks about it for a second. It’s funny, he doesn’t actually put too much thought into that time in his life – the seven years that had lapsed between becoming friends with Eddie in the aftermath of everything with the Upside Down and when they’d finally gotten together. That was nearly thirty years ago, after all, and Steve hasn’t ever really been the type to dwell on the past. He takes a moment to dwell on it now and remembers how long it had taken him to notice the dull ache behind his ribs and the anxious somersault his stomach had done every time Eddie so much as looked his way.

“I mean – yeah, you’re right. It’s…it’s not easy when you’re close with someone for a long time and then the way you feel about them changes, because, you know, it’s not – I mean, it’s not like it changes overnight. It’s gradual, so…yeah, it’s not easy.”

“Yeah,” she quietly agrees.

“Nance, just – well, you know Nance. She just clocked it before I did, and I guess she didn’t have the patience to wait it out. Once I knew though, it was, like, super fucking obvious. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t known before.”

Moe’s laugh is nervous in a way Steve isn’t sure he’s ever heard before, and if there’s a friend of Moe’s she might be feeling differently for, he thinks he might have an idea which one. Moe is a hell of a lot smarter than him though, and this conversation is telling enough that she won’t need things spelled out for her in the way he had with Eddie thirty years ago.

“It was hard,” he continues, because he has a feeling Moe might need to hear more even if she isn’t asking for anything specific, “I – I mean, I actually liked dating when I was your age, believe it or not. I thought it was fun, or whatever, and it wasn’t really a thing that made me nervous, you know? With your dad, though…shit, I was terrified, because it’s a different kind of risk than just shooting your shot with someone you run into and hit it off with.”

Moe nods.

“I think the reason it’s so freaky is because falling for someone you’re friends with is never just a crush. I knew there was something big there. I know you guys hate when Dad and I are all sappy, but he was never just some guy I was dating. He was it for me from the very beginning.”

Moe mumbles something under her breath that Steve doesn’t quite catch.

“What was that?”

“I don’t hate it,” she says, her voice still pretty low, and Steve knows that must have been difficult for her to admit so he doesn’t comment on it (though he will be telling Eddie as soon as he possibly can – obviously).

“Well, I’m just saying,” he replies, “I wasn’t feeling that way for nothing, and things turned out pretty good in the end. If someone was in a similar situation, I’d tell them…” he pauses, and then laughs as he says, “I’d tell them to not wait seven years to get a good thing started.”

“Alright,” she replies, “I’ll…yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.”

#idk what this is #ur a real one if you know who moe is talking about lol #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson

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ash5monster01 · 1 year ago

Text

Learning to Love

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x FemReader!PlusSize

Warnings: 18+, langauge, angst, fluff, mentions of bullying, body image issues, fat shaming, fake relationship, eventual smut, minor enemies to lovers trope.

Summary: It's not uncommon for you to be shamed for your size, it is however uncommon to be told that no one would ever date you because of it. Rafe on the other hand is used to being called a jerk, that is until he is accused of seeing people for only what's on the surface. It's purely coicidental you two meet right after these accusations are thrown your way. So even though you two don't know each other, and probably never would've looked the others way before this, now you're both going to prove a point. It's simple really, prove others wrong and don't fall in love. Easier said than done.

word count: 3k

→ Part 1

Masterlist

You're used to crude comments, truly. Living in the Outer Banks has proven nothing other than the fact that kooks will always be cruel, even if it's towards other kooks. As long as you're in a bathing suit, something is going to be said. Which is proven true as you lie on the beach, book in hand, and sunglasses hung low on your nose. It's your only day off and you were going to enjoy it. Soak up the sun as much as you can because summer would fade away before you knew it. You had only chosen the two piece bathing suit to get more of a tan, maybe a little extra sun. It's only twenty pages into your book you hear two boys snickering not far from your own set up.

"Look a beached whale, should we call the authorities?" your ears burn red only slightly, after all you were used to it. Honestly you could care less anymore.

"God, she has to know that's gross" the other responds after his bellowing laughs have calmed down. They truly can't be that stupid they don't realize how loud they're talking right?

"No decent looking, hell self respecting man would ever date a girl like that" this punches the air out of your lungs. You knew your body type wasn’t considered attractive. This was common knowledge, but to hear someone say you couldn’t possibly ever date an attractive man is something else entirely.

“I know I wouldn’t” the boys laugh again, hands clapping together as they stare you down like you were the most disgusting thing on this beach.

You’re not upset about what they were saying. You survived highschool after all. Your school had already been divided by kooks and pogues, add in the big girl and that’s a recipe for disaster. You’ve heard the most vile and mean things a person could say. Somehow you came out of it with still a little self respect, hell even some confidence, because if you were anything at all it was strong. You had dated here and there, never had anything stick though. Maybe that’s why this comment resonated so hard with you. No matter how decent a person you meet maybe you’re bound to end up ugly and alone because an attractive man belongs with an attractive girl.

Rafe has had to attend hundreds of useless business meetings since his Dad died. He had wanted this. When he was nineteen and trying to prove to his Dad that he was worth it, but now he was gone. He had no one to impress anymore and at twenty three he carried the burden of being the CEO of an entire company with his last name on it. So that’s how he finds himself inside of dark clubs at noon, sharing a scotch with guys willing to play dirty to get what they want. He often wonders why he had wanted this life so badly. Everything he had believed in for so long was now gone. His Dad, the treasure, and now even kooks and pogues. Ever since his sister had found that treasue social classes had been practically eliminated or at least weren't acknowledged like they were before. All of this had now left Rafe without a sense of self and he desperatley needed something to change.

"Man, why can't they hire pretty waitresses to look at anymore?" Levi, a coworker slurred as he watched their waitress walk away. Rafe noticed her shoulders stiffen because she had heard what he had said. He hated he felt guilty over it.

"It's a bar, not a strip club" Matt, another coworker teased and Rafe rolled his eyes. Four years ago these guys could've been his best friends, and he would've teased the waitress right along with them. Now things were different, he was different.

"I happen to think she's cute" Rafe told them before finishing the last sip of his scotch. He knew when he got back to the office people would give disapproving looks but he didn't know what to do with himself anymore. It was like he was just floating and letting the tide drag him along wherever it wanted to.

"Yeah right" Matt snorted out a laugh and Rafe gave him a confused look as Levi started to laugh along with him.

"Seriously Rafe, you’re way out of her league" Levi told him, his shoulder bumping with his own.

"No I'm not and there is no such thing as leagues" Rafe told them with a pointed look but the boys just continued to laugh anyway.

"Yes there is and the only one's in Rafe Cameron's league are tall hot blondes with legs for miles and tan skin smooth enough slide on" Matt said and Rafe felt his stomach clench as they spoke. Had he unintentionaly maintained a type, only taken someone for their looks? Flashes of ex girlfriends went through his mind and he had realized after all this time he had only taken women for surface things.

“That can’t be true” Rafe shook his head and the boys just chuckled.

“Admit dude, you’re an asshole and you like pretty little things. Nothing wrong with that” Levi said as he slapped his back, taking another sip of his own scotch. Rafe however realized there was everything wrong with that. Yeah he’s been a jerk his whole life but had he ever actually dated a girl he liked? Someone with substance?

“Hell would freeze over the day Rafe Cameron dated someone other than a supermodel” Matt pointed with the scotch in his hand and Rafe just shook his head, eyes scanning over the small crowd that littered the bar. For the first time he was seeing people he never would’ve noticed before.

He wondered if this was a side effect of his life before. Privileged kook, popularity, a need to impress everyone around him. Had women become a part of all of that too? A side effect of a need to please, to be the best. Had he been wasting years of actually meeting someone with a personality due to his natural self destructive ways? God he hoped not. Then again he couldn’t recall ever really liking the girls he dated, he usually just tuned them out and used them when he needed to make an appearance with a date. He had never actually dated someone for fun. Worst of all he hated that everyone knew this of him. That he dated for appearance instead of happiness. He wanted to change that.

You could only take so much of the harassment coming from the two boys on the beach, so after three hours you declared you’d had enough sun and started to pack your things. When the cover up slipped over your head you didn’t miss the applause coming from them. Rolling your eyes you grabbed your bag and started the hike up the beach. You needed a drink.

Rafe hadn’t been able to shake the thoughts over the girls he dated. After a very long recollection of every girl he had ever brought around he couldn’t think of one he actually enjoyed spending time with. With this in mind he dismissed Matt and Levi back to the office, claiming he’d find a way back on his own. He needed more time to think about this, and a stiff drink to go along with it. So that’s how he found himself now sitting directly at the bar and not inside the dark booth. The whiskey in his hand suggested he wasn’t making it back to the office anytime soon.

Normally he wouldn’t remove his focus from the drink in his hands but when a bag is slapped on the counter top beside him he finds himself lifting his head. The girl claiming the seat beside him is dressed in stark contrast to his own attire. He’s still in his work suit, tie loosened around his neck, but the girl beside him has clearly just come from the beach. Her hair is wild and wrapped in a bun a top her head. A red bikini strap peaks out the collar of the white coverup. Her breasts had left wet spots slightly see through to the red fabric of her top, like she had left the beach in a rush.

“Hit me with the usual Randy” she calls to the bar keep and Rafe can’t tear his eyes away from her. She’s bigger, sure, but the dip of her hips and small pouted lips have Rafe every bit of intrigued. He can’t help the thought of her being a girl he might’ve never noticed before escape him. He wanted to notice her now.

“Rough day?” Randy smirks at her when he’s back, a tall glass with a dark liquid set in front of her. She takes a sip before responding.

“Every day is a rough day” she mutters and Randy just chuckles before walking off to serve other customers. It’s only when your eyes lock with his own Rafe realizes he has been staring this entire time. “Let me guess, you got something to say just like everyone else today”

“I, what?” Rafe doesn’t expect the coldness from you and how strong willed you are with it too. You aren’t scared of him, he isn’t used to that.

“Listen I’ve had my fill of assholes today so if you don’t have anything nice to say, keep it to yourself” you told him before turning back forward and taking a large gulp from the drink in your hand.

“Got someone bothering you?” Rafe asked finding his cool. He finally got himself to tear his eyes away from you, eyes scanning over the liquor bottles behind the bar. You turn to look at him, eyes drawn together in confusion.

“Not one specific person, everyone for some reason thinks they have the right to comment on my appearance” your words get him to turn back at you. Normally men don’t make you nervous but when you watch him eye you up and down you can’t help the way your heart accelerates.

“I happen to think you look just fine” the scoff that falls from your lips shocks him.

“I’m not looking for your pity, I happened to over hear today that no decent self respecting man would date me so let’s not lie to each other” you tell him and Rafe now feels the air knocked from his lungs. He can’t believe anyone would say that to you. Let alone to your face.

“If it makes you feel better I was told today that I only date woman for surface things” now you were the one drawing your eyebrows together in confusion, looking to the mystery of a man beside you.

“Surface things?” you question the stranger and he chuckles, his rings clinking on his whiskey glass.

“Appearances, apparently I’ve never looked deeper” this has you chuckling right along with him, lifting your own drink to your lips.

“Look at us then, two sides of the same coin. Makes you wonder if there really is anyone out there actually happy with who they ended up with” you say mostly to yourself, knowing this perfect stranger on a normal day would never look your way but you also would never find yourself thinking you had a chance with him.

“I think there is, at least the people who weren’t chewed up and spit out by the world” the optimism is what shocks you the most when he speaks. A hope for something better down in there.

“I wish I was one of those people” you find yourself saying and the boy turns to look at you again, eyes scanning over each of your features.

“Maybe we should prove them wrong” now you’re laughing, looking bewildered towards the boy beside you.

“And how do you suppose we do that?” you ask and he smirks, clearly having some sort of plan.

“We date. I prove to my coworkers that I date someone for more than just their looks and you prove to all those assholes that you can date a guy as good looking as me” he gestures to himself, as if his body is some of God’s best work. You scoff at his clear cheekiness but actually find yourself considering.

“I don’t even know your name” you laugh, trying to remind yourself that this ideal is completely absurd.

“Rafe Cameron, nice to meet you” his hand reaches across the bar, you take notice of how long his fingers are. With the shake of your head you find yourself putting your hand in his own.

“It’s not that simple” you tell him and he just smiles, dimples forming around his pressed together lips.

“Isn’t it though?” he says, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes and you sigh, finally removing your hand from his own.

“Date? As in fake date?” you ask and he nods, his head tipping to the side.

“Exactly, an agreement of sorts. We both benefit from each other, everything to gain and nothing to lose” he tells you like he’s already worked out every way this could end.

“We just met” you inform him and he shrugs, implying this wasn’t an issue.

“I’ve seen people date over less” he tells you and you sigh, holding your hand out to him. He looks are your empty palm confused and you quickly roll your eyes.

“You can’t take me out ion a date without my number dream boy” you tell him and he smirks while grabbing his phone out of his pocket and placing it in your hand. He watched as you meticulously open his contacts and punch in your number. You’ve named your contact ‘baby ❤️’ but he doesn’t get your real name until you type it into other names.

“Y/N? I like that” he smiles at you and you chuckle, clicking on the profile photo to take a selfie.

“We’re already off to a bad start if you want to stop liking people for just their surface things” he likes how quick witted you are and you don’t allow him a response as you lean into his personal space. “Can’t be a real girlfriend if I don’t have a profile picture in your phone”

You smile so easily and he instantly notices how beautiful it is. He’s not looking at the camera anymore but leaning in and taking in the sweet scent of your perfume mixed with the sunscreen and salty skin. You were like a walking beach and he loved that more than anything. That is how he finds his lips pressing softly against your cheek as the camera shutter clicks on his phone. Your body has chills that you have to brush off quickly as you look at the entirely real looking photo on his screen.

“If I didn’t like what was on the surface you would never be my fake girlfriend” he finally says as he takes his phone back before you could text yourself his number.

“I don’t like how easy this is for you. Are you sure I’m your first fake girlfriend?” you ask and he laughs, eyes falling on your face again.

“The first and the only” and you decide that coming into an agreement like this with a stranger shouldn’t be this simple.

“Then we need to lay some ground rules” this has him raising his eyebrows as you grab a napkin from the bar. He watches as you leaned over, searching for a pen behind the bar. Unashamedly he took the opportunity to inspect your ass, admiring the curve and thanking the see through fabric for revealing the cheeky bikini bottoms that laid over your large curves. He had never openly allowed himself to be attracted to a bigger girl. but now he was briefly wondering what it would be like to be suffocated by one.

“So, what’s these rules?” he smirked at you once you were sat back upright in your seat. He watched as you popped the cap off the pen with your teeth and leaving it in your mouth.

“Don’t worry pretty boy, I’ll keep them simple” you tell him, dropping the cap from you lips into the bar. He felt himself flush slightly at the nickname, watching as your neat and loopy handwriting moved across the napkin.

1. Must actively text/call/interact for a week before first “official” date.

2. PDA must be limited

3. Don’t catch feelings, no matter what

4. Attend whatever event your fake significant other asks of you

5. Most of all, don’t tell anyone, ever, that this is fake

“PDA must be limited?” you roll your eyes at the fact this was the only rule he questioned but you sign at the bottom of the napkin anyway.

“I don’t want to waste all of romantic gestures on something that isn’t real” you explain to him and he nods, sliding the napkin in front of him.

“I have a lot of work dinners I would like you to attend” he says as he signs the napkin.

“I’ll try my best” you tell him and now he’s furrowing his eyebrows at you.

“It’s your rule” he points at the napkin, more confused with you than when you first walked in here. “What could you possibly be busy with?”

“Work” you tell him and he still looks confused which you find adorable. Now rule number three only applies to you.

“Every night?” he questions and you chuckle as you return the pen to the other side of the bar.

“Usually, comes with the territory” and you laugh as he continues to try and process what you’re saying.

“What territory?” he asks and you smile, finishing the drink in front of you.

“My bar” and you gesture to the building around you. Rafe suddenly realizes why you know the names of the workers and why they know your usual drink order.

“You own this place?” and you nod, sliding off your seat and grabbing your bag. You also grab the napkin, now signed by you both.

“Don’t forget rule number one handsome” you tell him before heading towards the exit, determined to have a good rest of your day off. Rafe can only watch as you walk away, baffled any of what just happened actually occurred.

“Randy, I’m gonna need a refill”

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