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pathologicalreid · 14 days ago

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christmas (baby please come home) | s.r.

in which Spencer isn't home to put his kids to bed on Christmas Eve, but they wake up to a surprise on Christmas morning

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: spencer's first post prison christmas, frankensteined the plot of "surface tension", the same family as "here with me", crying, christmas word count: 3.19k a/n: merry christmas!! this is kinda like my gift to you, mostly since it's been sitting in my brain for forever!!!!!!! i love u all! also happy first day of hanukkah if you celebrate <33

“But Daddy’s not home,” your daughter whimpered as she shuffled under her covers, she looked up at you with wide, curious eyes.

You carefully smoothed out the top of her floral comforter, “I know, baby,” you whispered, reaching up to pinch her cheek affectionately. You’d let them stay up late to watch the Santa tracker, but eventually, Finn fell asleep on you, and Livvy’s yawns were enough to convince you that it was bedtime. “You still have to go to sleep. Santa will come whether Daddy’s home or not, and we’ll just do the gifts from Mommy and Daddy when he gets back.”

At three years old, Olivia was beginning to understand Spencer being gone the same way Eleanor did; she knew his absence was entirely out of her control, and that didn’t sit well with your middle child. You knew you had gotten incredibly lucky when Spencer had been home for Finn’s birthday and Livvy’s had fallen during his sabbatical, but you also knew that you were due for a missed holiday, you just wished it could’ve been Thanksgiving or New Year’s.

You kissed her forehead before leaving, making sure to leave the door open a crack so the monsters wouldn’t get her before you went to Nell’s room. “Hey, honey,” you whispered, closing your eldest’s door behind you before going to sit on the edge of her bed. She had her own Christmas tree set up in the corner of the room, the artificial purple tree providing the glow that her nightlight normally would. “Are you ready for bed?”

Nell was lying on top of her covers, staring at her still ceiling fan as she ignored your question. While Livvy was just starting to understand what it meant when Spencer was gone, Nell understood it best, and she had for years now. She’d understood when Spencer was in prison, and she understood that he was missing Christmas now.

Slowly, you laid down next to your daughter, propping your head up on the bed and smoothing her hair back. “It’s still Christmas,” you tried to reassure her, but part of you knew that it was a thankless effort, there was nothing you could tell her that would fix her father’s absence. “We can call Dad in the morning while we open presents,” you offered, hoping she’d appreciate you coming halfway. “If he’s not busy, maybe we can video chat, and you can show him everything Santa brought you.”

“It’s not the same,” she told you, furrowing her brows and turning away from you on the bed.

Sighing, you pressed a kiss to the back of her head, “I know, Nellie. I know it’s not fair that he doesn’t get to be here for Christmas, but Daddy will come back.” There was a sense of urgency in your voice; you were afraid that if your five-year-old lost the joy in Christmas, you’d somehow failed her as a mother. “He’ll be home for your birthday, I promise,” you whispered.

“You can’t promise,” she reminded you, knowing that you and Spencer were generally very specific about your promises, leaning toward the ‘I promise I’ll try’ variety.

You hummed in response, “I’d pinky promise you that. Dad will be home for your birthday.” You held up your pinky finger, waiting for her to roll over and reciprocate.

Eleanor rolled over, holding up her pinky finger while brown eyes watched you apprehensively, “Okay,” she breathed, hooking your fingers together and kissing them.

As soon as Spencer told you about the bureau’s contingency to him returning to the BAU, you’d done the math. Eleanor’s sixth birthday would fall near the beginning of his next sabbatical, so you didn’t hesitate to make this promise. “It’s time for bed, my girl,” you whispered, smiling at her softly as she pulled the sleeves of her Christmas pajamas over her hands. “Santa can’t come if you’re not asleep,” you reminded her, sitting up on the bed and getting up, tucking her purple comforter under her chin before you made your final stop of the night.

You’d brought Finn to his room before getting the girls settled, but now that you knew they were alright, you came back to his room. The white noise machine was going, and he was fast asleep in his crib. His pacifier, which you were trying to wean him off of, had fallen from his mouth and onto the sheets, so you set it to the side. To you, the second Christmas was always more exciting than the first, now that he was fourteen months old, he had the dexterity to help open presents.

Ruffling his hair, you kissed him goodnight, just like you’d done with the girls, and you left his room, closing the door so that no one would disturb the light-sleeping baby.

There was a late night ahead of you, but first, you settled yourself onto the couch in the living room and pulled out your phone. Upon opening your messages with Spencer, you couldn’t help but be disappointed to find that there was nothing unread. You thought about sending him a text telling him that you all miss him but eventually decided against it. You didn’t want to make him feel guilty. At least, no more guilty than he likely already did.

You turned on the TV, quietly playing a Christmas movie as you began the festivities. All of the gifts had been expertly hidden in the master bedroom, split between being shoved under your bed and in your closet, but a new playhouse for the girls had been dropped off earlier. It was too big for your room, so your parents had stored it in their basement in the interim.

That would be a struggle to bring in from the garage, so you decided to start small, pulling all of the kids’ stockings from their hooks and laying them out on the floor before going upstairs to get the stuffers.

With the movie playing, you filled the stockings with treats and little toys. A few times you imagined your phone buzzing, but each time there was nothing on the screen. The loneliness started to set in as you rehung the stockings, making sure the kids’ names faced forward above the fireplace.

This wasn’t your first Christmas alone, Spencer had been in Idaho for Olivia’s first Christmas, but neither of the girls remembered it.

They’d remember this one, you thought to yourself, walking back up the stairs to grab a load of boxes. Thankfully, they were already wrapped, but you did have to avoid getting ribbon in your mouth as you carried the armful of gifts down the stairs.

Masterfully, you adjusted them beneath the tree, trying to visualize where they’d all end up in the end as you heard something distantly, but you brushed it off as someone leaving your neighbor’s holiday party. You stood up, wiping your hands on your pajamas as you evaluated your handiwork, shrugging before you turned around for the next load, “Oh,” you breathed, watching the handle on the door from the garage turn.

The door opened slowly, revealing your husband on the other side, his black peacoat draped over his arm and purple scarf looped around his neck. He hooked his car keys on the key hook before he noticed you, brown eyes finding your pajama-clad figure. His lopsided smile was all-knowing as always, he knew he had surprised you. In fact, it had been his goal.

You remained exactly where you were, watching him from the den as he put his shoes away and hung up his outerwear. It was almost as if you’d convinced yourself he was a mirage, and any sudden movements would cause his visage to dissipate. “Hey,” Spencer said, cocking his head at you as if he were confused why you hadn’t come any closer to him. He peeked around you to look at the tree, “Did the kids get to bed okay?”

Instead of answering him, your body naturally responded to what seemed like the miraculous appearance of your husband by producing tears. At first, they just welled along your lash line, but as they started to fall, you buried your face in your hands.

Spencer was there, not only in the house but also taking the initiative to approach you, he wrapped his arms around your torso, taking your tearful form under his care, “Is everything alright?” He asked, slowly dragging his hand up and down your spine, humming as you reciprocated his embrace and pressed your face into his shirt, drying your eyes and taking in the moment.

“Everything is wonderful,” you responded, your voice muffled by his shirt. He smelled like stale dark roast and the jet, but you were too relieved by his arrival to truly mind.

Tightening his grip briefly, he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, “Right, well. You’re crying, so I had to make sure,” he murmured, swaying gently to the music coming from the film.

You loosed a breath of relief, “I can’t believe you’re here. The kids were miserable at bedtime, Nell wouldn’t even talk to me until I told her you’ll be home for her birthday,” you informed him, keeping your arms wrapped firmly around him while you tipped your head back to see him.

Spencer nodded in understanding, reaching up a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, “We made the arrest at eight and wrapped up around nine. Somehow, Emily convinced the pilot to leave in the middle of the night, and we were on the jet by ten. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve spent holidays in worse places, but I’d rather be here with you than in Milwaukee.”

“I will kiss Emily Prentiss on the mouth,” you told him candidly.

He raised his brows curiously, “Mhm, and what about me?”

Grinning, you pushed up on your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his, an amalgamation of a welcome home and a Merry Christmas kiss, but you pulled away before you could get carried away. “Merry Christmas, Spencer Reid, we have work to do,” you told him, taking on a mock seriousness as you nodded your head toward the Christmas tree, which only had a fraction of your kids’ gifts beneath it.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” Spencer reciprocated, pressing one more kiss to your lips, “Let’s get started.”

Spinning out of his grip, you found you had much more pep in your step with his arrival, beaming as the two of you went through the house as quietly as possible, gathering the gifts for the kids without rousing any suspicion. Even grabbing the playhouse from the garage didn’t seem like as much of a task with him around.

You adjusted the stockings as it neared two in the morning, Spencer returned from upstairs with the last few gifts, having changed his clothes into pajamas that neatly matched yours—a family set that was a gift from your Penelope. “They look great,” Spencer assured you, pushing his glasses up on his nose as he stood back, admiring your handiwork.

Walking backward until your back was against your chest, you tilted your head to the side, appraising the mountain of gifts beneath the tree, “Do you think we went overboard this year?” Between the gifts from Santa and the gifts from the two of you, the heap was rather intimidating.

“No,” Spencer answered, “bigger kids, bigger gifts.” He put his arms around your waist, resting his chin on top of your head, “besides, they’re good kids.”

You hummed in response, leaning into him ever so slightly. Part of you felt like Spencer was still experiencing guilt surrounding the three months he spent away from you and the kids while he was in prison. No amount of time at home or therapy would ever absolve him of that guilt, but it never hurt to try, “Hey,” you whispered up to him, “I got you something.”

He frowned down at you, “I thought we said no gifts this year?”

Scoffing, you walked over to the home office, “We say that every year and neither of us ever stick to it, so go get whatever it is you got for me.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, but even so, he made his way upstairs to where you knew a gift was hiding in his bedside table. Upon his return, he faltered at the large box you’d placed on the coffee table and held up the small box in his hands; you beamed at him as he eyed the behemoth of a present.

He handed you the smaller box, instinctively, you admired the wrapping before starting to open it, recognizing the jewelry box before you had even discarded your wrapping paper. “Oh, Spence,” you said, looking at the necklace in the box, a dainty chain with five small gemstones on it. His birthstone and yours, followed by Nell’s amethyst, Livvy’s sapphire, and Finn’s tourmaline all strung next to each other, “it’s perfect,” you told him, lightly touching the gems with your fingertips. You’d mentioned wishing you had an everyday necklace a few weeks ago while getting ready, and he must’ve been listening more attentively than you’d thought.

Finally, you had him open his gift, and he was entirely speechless as he opened the cardboard flaps. His mouth gaped as he lifted one of the books in his hand, the title and edition identical to one that had been previously ruined in your house. “Fuck,” he cursed, looking from you to the books and back again.

You shrugged, “It’s not all of them, but a pretty good amount of them. Some of those editions are proving difficult to recover, but I’ve—” You’re cut off, startled by Spencer pressing his lips to yours. “I’m still looking for some,” you said breathlessly once he pulled away.

Spencer seemed unsure of what to do with himself; you’d managed to find replacements for three-fourths of the books that had previously been burned by an accidental fire set earlier this year. The only time your marriage had ever been on the rocks was when Diana lived with you, but even then, you’d been planning this surprise. “You are…” Spencer started, uncharacteristically at a loss for words, “This is incredible,” he told you, shaking his head in disbelief, setting the book down in the box and nearly tackling you in a hug.

Laughing, you buried your face in his shoulder to muffle the sound, “I love you,” you murmured to him, his body now next to yours on the couch.

“I love you too,” he said, looking at you with glassy eyes. “Wow,” he said, sniffling, “I need to get you something else. A necklace isn’t enough,” he told you, likely already thinking of options for addendums.

You shook your head, “Trust me when I tell you that your being here is worth all of the rare books in the world to me,” you reassured him, running your fingers through his hair. Humming, you adjusted your head on the pillow, “Are you gonna fall asleep like this?”

He nodded, “If you keep playing with my hair like that. How long do you think we have until they wake up?” He asked, keeping his eyes closed while you peeked over him to check the time.

Last year, Finn had woken up the whole house on Christmas Day at four in the morning, and seeing as it was nearing three, you wondered if it was worth sleeping at all. You continued combing through Spencer’s hair, “Do you want to go upstairs?”

“This is a really great couch,” he mumbled, already falling asleep on the couch, leading you to grab the blanket that was thrown over the back and haphazardly drape it over the two of you.

Unfortunately, it felt like you’d gotten no sleep at all when you heard the first stirring upstairs, “Mommy,” Olivia called out, which would likely wake up Finn and Nell.

You got up from the couch, waking up Spencer in the process. Your poor husband, who was probably already running on little sleep, got up and folded the blanket you had been using, returning it to its home while you went upstairs to get the kids.

Livvy’s eyes went wide when she saw you come from downstairs, “Did Santa come?” She asked you, nearly bouncing with excitement.

As you expected, the door to Eleanor’s room swung open, revealing your sleep-deprived five-year-old in her rumpled pajamas, “Yes, Santa brought gifts for everyone,” you answered, ruffling her hair before going into Finn’s room, hoping to wake him gently before the voices did a less delicate job. “Hi buddy,” you whispered, looking back to see the girls gathered at the door, completely unaware that their dad was waiting for them downstairs. “Merry Christmas,” you said softly, his scrunched face not processing what you were saying, but happy to see you, nonetheless.

You picked him up from the crib and herded the girls to the stairs, letting them lead the way down while you carried the baby. Right behind them, you watched the realization dawn on their faces as soon as they caught sight of Spencer, “Daddy!” Nell shouted, leading her little sister as they ran to him.

Laughing lightly, you let a squirming Finn down, running to Spencer in the same way the girls just had. From a distance, you watched as all three of your kids entirely bypassed the gifts under the tree and on the mantle and went straight to what was more important—their father was home for Christmas.

Spencer crouched down to get Finn, and at the same time, Livvy jumped in excitement, leaving Spencer falling backward and sitting on the ground while the kids formed a less-than-graceful dog pile on the floor. You took that as your cue to join in on the festivities, kneeling on the floor next to the familial pile, uncontrollable giggles emanated from everyone involved.

You wrangled the two littles in your arms, giving each of them dozens of kisses and receiving more laughter in return as Eleanor settled down. Your eldest took her moment of alone time and laid her head on Spencer’s chest, the grin on her face overtook the rest of her face, “Best Christmas ever,” she whispered before rolling off of him, Spencer instinctively lifting his hand so she doesn’t hit her head on the leg of the coffee table.

Nellie sat up giving you a toothy grin, sticking her tongue through where she was missing a front tooth. Everyone took notice of Olivia pointing at the tree, her mouth shaped like an “o” in awe, “Can we open that one?” She asked, pointing to the largest present in the stack—which, of course, had her name on it.

“Stockings first,” Spencer said, leading to a pout from your middle child, but it was quickly wiped away when he kissed the crown of her head. Your husband got up first, taking Finn from where he was tucked into your side, and set him on his hip, “Okay, who wants their stocking?”

Everyone’s hand went up—including yours.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #written by margot #spencer reid dilf agenda

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riaki · 1 year ago

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ur highschool bully gojo was chefs kiss 💋 what do u think about them going to the same college and taking the same classes?? and the reader sitting next/talking to some other guy and satoru gets jealous?? arwahhhshdhshshs so many possibilities, i hope u continue writing it!!

hi nonnie !! thank you so much :) this is ur official part 2 ! i was struggling to think up some possibilities but this helped a lot :oo | read part 1 here ! -> cw: swearing, jealousy, i let it get fic length oops

(former) highschoolbully!gojo on the brain again… like. when you end up seeing him again however many months later, and you can tell that he’s changed. it’s not like its immediately obvious to anyone who doesn’t really know him like you (used to); but he’s a little softer-spoken and his smiles seem nine times more genuine. it’s not a hundred percent; the kind that really lights up his face instead of just barely falling short of his stark blue eyes, but it's something.

of course, you have nothing to base it off of, because when you do inevitably see him again it's the very definition of meet ugly.

college is a new frontier, but its also a clean slate. its your first time going into something so new without your old bestfriend at your side, but some faint flickering thought reminds you that it might be better that way. but the universe is against you from the very first day, when youre gettin yourself some coffee from the same chain you did the morning of that fateful presentation so many moons ago. you're too busy thinking to yourself what kind of strange parting ritual it is to relive your trauma to notice the lanky, white-haired boy who hits his head on the chiming bell over the doorway. people are giggling around you n sighing dreamily but youre too deep in the music pumping through your headphones to notice and your eyes are glued to the class schedule on your phone, trying to ensure you dont get lost on the first day when—

you blink and your ass is flat on the dirty floor of the coffee shop, and the first thing you register is that your stomach is soaked and burning. you'd spilled your coffee. it takes you a moment to realize, but when you do you're pissed. so you quickly get to your feet, trying to reign in what little of your ego you have left to give the offender who bumped into you a piece of your mind as you look up, then..

how unlucky do you have to be?

just like that, satoru's slid himself back into your life, after ramming through its locked gates. you forget that he always forgets the point of keys, both when it comes to his apartment (which you still have the spare key of in case of emergencies), and the door to your heart. to rub salt in the wound, the only thing that's stained with your coffee order are his shoes, which look like they cost three weeks of your old job salary, but it's all over your shirt. of course it is. because why not? make it look like you tripped and fell into a patch of mud on your way to the lecture hall and tack on an unwelcome reunion with your ex-bestfriend.

to you, it's like the cloud of gloom from your highschool youth has resettled over your head like a swarm of gnats on a dreary, hot summer day. the stars always seem to skew and misalign themselves for you. but for satoru, the stars have handed him one of those huge swirly lollipops that you only ever see being paraded about by toddlers. he recovers almost instantly, trading the burn on his feet and the way it sours your expression like he's just squirted pure citric acid into your throat for a pleasant burn of his own on his cheeks. but it's whatever. girls seem to like it when he blushes, for some reason. he won't question it, if it works on the only one he cares about.

he holds his hand out, ready to help you out like the good samaritan he's become— and it's like a real burn to his heart this time when you ignore it and stand up on your own, refusing to look up and meet his pleading gaze. might as well have taken an iron stoker right out of the fire and jabbed him with it. but he's gojo satoru! he won't be defeated by this one mere, maybe very significant reunion. he's got stamina.

so he offers to buy you a new drink, feels his heart sink when you shake your head (can't even spare a little 'no' in his direction), and talks enough for the both of you when you leave the dingy little store make your way down to campus and the lecture building. you clearly don't want to see him, but he ignores that in exchange to notice the way you shiver every so often. the previously searing-hot coffee that stains your shirt turns cold fast, and moisture n wind don't mix well. he wishes he could offer you some of his own warm coffee, no doubt sickeningly sweet, but he has some sensitivity now, apparently. so, in a brash moment, he decides to take his blazer off and drape it over your shoulders instead.

when you cross the threshold between city and campus, you expect him to yank it off your back and be on his merry way. but he keeps walking next to you, so you walk a little faster, and you absolutely loathe the cheeky little grin that curves the corners of his lips up to show a glint of teeth when he effortlessly keeps up. you curse his long legs when you find yourself winded, but at least you can lose him when you get there.

or, that's what you think. once again, your constellations break themselves to rebuild anew for satoru. you're about to call him a stalker when he follows you all the way to your classroom with that smirk that's growing exponentially until— oh, no.

your phone that's been on the schedule up until now desperately scrolls to the roster— and there it is. he's in your class. needless to say, not another word goes between you as you stomp in and take a seat. luckily for you, you've already corresponded with your roommate's brother (who's annoyingly cute, satoru notices) and agreed to sit next to each other. satoru takes the seat right above you and never stops kicking his freakishly long legs against the wood the entire time.

so yeah, it's obvious he's not a saint; he still has that undoable ego and he's cocky as fuck (as you have the misfortune of finding out when he quickly bullies your professor), but there's a certain familiarity in that no matter how ugly it might appear to others. and if you asked (which he really, really hopes you will someday), he doesn't hang around douchebags who use kids' foreheads for ashtrays and treat girls like they're candy from a glittery pez dispenser. and at least he's switched harassment targets. even though he has an overwhelming sense of superiority over others and never has his lips together for more than five seconds, and even though he has this hellish habit of clicking his pen whenever he's not talking (or when someone else is), it seems like he's changed.

and over time, you gradually find yourself warming up to him. the spunkiness that used to get on your nerves ceaselessly becomes an object of endearment, and you don't really mind the way he never seems to stop moving anymore. it's a nice sort of distraction in the lifeless still of the lecture hall, albeit the pen clicking still drives you near insanity. you notice he always does it obnoxiously and quickly when you're talking to your roommate's brother, but you ignore it.

and for satoru? he hates that he can kinda sorta really tell that you're the only one who can read him like he's a damn book, cus you slowly start to soften up in the nostalgia of his presence like cold playdough between warm fingers that tell you he may have finally caught you again after letting you slip the first time. and he notices it. this time, he's determined not to let you be the one that got away again. but youre really giving him a shit time outta it with the way you constantly entertain the guy who always has his breath in your face.

yeah, he's got a cute face that's sunkissed by freckles. yeah, his hair looks like he models for shampoo companies. and fuck, he has a nice voice. but what of it? satoru's the one with the mesmerizing blue irises and the cloudy white hair your professor wishes he had instead of sad little wisps of old age. still, as chilly days turn into frigid weeks, he gets the perfect backseat angle of the growing relationship between the two of you. the boy's kinda dumb so you copy off of satoru’s work when you need to (he has to hide the 1-0 scoreboard between him and the guy on a sticky note from you when you take his notes), but said guy’s always buying you stuff and lending you erasers and laughing when you flick the shavings at the annoying girl who never stops whispering in the front of the room.

satoru tries to act unbothered, and he almost convinces everyone. including himself. but the angry, burning knot in his chest that's entirely different from coffee stains suggests something more. that should be him at your side. him, making balls of paper with rude scribbles and silly doodles to throw at the people he knows you don't like. him, surprising you with little gifts and the cheap trinkets he knows you adore so much instead of all the luxury things he could afford. there's no way this punk could possibly measure up to him, right? but at least you and satoru are well on your way to becoming friends again. not as close as you used to be, but it's something. substantial. and he's learned to be patient in the time you've been gone.

but he'd be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't tired of it. he’s endlessly plagued with thoughts of increasing intensity— first, it starts out with just you. only you. the way he likes it. the way he likes your face, and your pretty eyes and your gorgeous lips and your soft hair and your figure and the complimenting clothes you wear. but it takes a turn; thoughts turn into dreams that turn into fantasies and he's lying when he says he doesn't enjoy them when he accidentally lets it slip during a group study session— and it’s all fine— but then, that guy appears. the brat who seems to sit a centimeter closer to you with each coming day. not only does he haunt satoru in real life, he’s tormenting his dreams, too. tainting the image of beautiful you.

needless to say, satoru starts to wake up with his hands gripping his damp pillow like he's choking it, acutely aware of the sweat sliding down his neck and over his chest as he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the dorm's air conditioner run and thinking of what it'd be like for dreams (the ones where he replaces the boy) to become reality.

it's a buildup. and soon, he reaches the apex; it's like a rollercoaster, that stomach-twisting moment when you reach the top of the rail that points to the steep descent downward. but this time, he hopes it's a thrill he gets instead of the usual falling fright; the one he got when he realized he’d slipped between your fingers in highschool.

and satoru finally comes to a grinding halt at the top of the ride one breezy fall day when he decides he wants you back in his life after you smile brightly at him and wave goodbye for the day. he’s tired of you having one foot in and one foot out of his heart; he wants, needs more. he always has, he realizes.

so he’s thinking about you and how to approach the feelings he’s realized during those long lectures, and one morning he comes up with some semblance of a plan when he’s high on the sugar from the fruit tea you bought him that morning. and he hopes that, by the end of it, he'll leave your apartment with your hand in his currently empty one, chilled with the remnants of cold condensation from the bottle.

soon enough, satoru finds himself extinguishing his nerves and raising a tense fist to knock on the door with nothing but the clothes on his back and a flimsy plan to ask you out on a midterm study sesh and maybe even a date, but he stops when he realizes it’s slightly ajar. a brief thought of what look might be on your face when he surprises you crosses his mind, so he lets himself in quietly, because he knows every single floorboard that creaks like the back of his palm from his childhood. he’s hit with a wave of warmth and an achingly familiar scent that twists at his heart, and your apartment is cozy and safe and it screams you and he thinks he catches sight of his jacket slung across the back of the couch in your living room, but he’s not sure so he takes a step forward and—

he’s greeted with the sight of that stupid guy with the nice hair and the freckles, and it makes his heart drop. but even worse, he’s kissing you and his arms are winding around your waist but you’re kissing him back with a slight hesitation that’s blinded to satoru by his shock and the fingers he thought would end up in his own tonight card through the boy’s hair and your lips glisten with the strawberry-kiwi flavored gloss he watched the boy give you a few days back and his world is turning red and he feels like his throat is constricting and he can’t breathe—

and he doesn’t even realize you’ve parted lips and you’re calling his name through the newfound tightness of his chest and the painful ringing in his ears thats even louder than any silence of a lecture hall, or the void that should’ve been filled with your voice during the time you were apart. but now satoru realizes he’d take that any fucking chance to have that again because it’s so much better than what he’s stuck with now. having you, but not really having you, because you’re there but you’re someone else’s and you’re not his and he isn’t yours. the best thing he could ever hope for was for you to own an article of his clothing and a piece of his shattered heart, broken into a million fragments. some cruel voice in his buzzing head reminds him to change the scoreboard to 0-100.

and he could buy you cheap hot coffee or earn your smiles from scrunched up paper balls or even hear your laugh with crude jokes, but there’s no point when he realizes he can’t buy you with caffeine or earn you with hitting the back of people’s heads with his bio notes or have you and your laugh all to himself anymore.

it’s almost pathetic, the way satoru’s voice cracks and changes. the look of unadulterated concern on the face of the boy who stole your lips just adds fuel to the fire.

“gojo? what are you doing here— hey, are you okay? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

he noticed you’d stopped calling him satoru a few weeks back. he should’ve seen it coming.

“huh? oh, yeah. i’m good. i think you’re the one hallucinating.”

he’d never told a bigger lie in his life.

satoru had left after excusing himself for intruding. how very unlike him to be so polite, you think.

so in the end, he leaves your apartment with something in his hand, after all. but it's not your own— just his blazer that you’d given back to him before he stepped out the door, taunting him with the faint scent of coffee and lingering perfume. his hope was foolish, so it seems. it’s too bad, he thinks. if it were him, he would’ve sandwiched you against your counter while he kissed. but it wasn’t. apparently, it was your turn for your stars to align at the price of his.

and so, gojo satoru, the boy force-turned man with a chipped ego and a completely broken heart, loses you again.

bonus bonus.. part 2….

#here u go. yes!! u!!!!!! sorry it got long #thank you guys for the reception on the last part literally checking tumblr religiously the rbs and comments made me feel like floating #yea hes a hopeless loser srry i dont make the rules #ABND I TRIED TO HOLD HERRR but there was nothing i could do to stop her from cutting her beautiful blue hair off 🐐🐐#gojo satoru #gojo angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #gojo jjk #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk angst #did not proofread b i hope it’s good 🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️#actually i j realized the coffee campus intro part is similar to another fic i’ve read sorry if u noticed that it was on my subconscious 😞#billet-doux

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1d1195 · 2 months ago

Text

Hummingbirds

~5.2k words

From me: Based on a song of the same name--you'll see the lyrics in a moment. You'll need to suspend your belief a bit. I'm not sure everything makes perfect sense, but. Some of this story takes place through emailing and I didn't have a good method for this. So bold will be Harry's emails. Pink writing will be hers.

Warnings: angst, fluff, anger honestly just fluffy. second chance love

Summary: Harry has been angry for a really really long time. Only one person ever made him confront his anger.

“Eli, baby, we have to go!”

Harry could hear her from outside. He smirked, sipping his tea while he waited for Buddy to do his business. The air was crisp just like October should be. Decorative spider webs lined the front porch and the flower bushes in front of it. He was utterly pleased with his life. So completely happy.

“Mommy! I can’t find my dinosaur sneakers!”

“I don’t know how to spell it,” Evie frowned. “I’m going to fail!”

“Just do your best and practice, my love. I believe in you,” she assured as she zipped her backpack up at the doorway and stuffed her feet into the slip-on sneakers by the door. They make me feel old, she told Harry. They’re the perfect shoes for a busy Mum, he assured her. And I think y’look hot wearing them.

“Eli, honey!” She called back. “They’re here by the front door!”

Harry couldn’t stop smiling. “How lucky am I, Buddy?” He asked shaking the leash slightly. The dog turned to him and then tugged him around the yard looking for the right spot; totally unaware or unaffected that Harry had the best life there was to live.

“I-M-P-E-R-U-T-I-V-E.”

“Close, baby girl,” she smiled encouragingly. “It’s an A, not U.”

She looked miserable as she stepped off the porch. Evie approached Harry while his wife bent to help Eli with his sneakers. “I’m going to fail, Daddy.”

He chuckled at the little nine-year-old. Crouched to her height twirling the leash tight around one hand. He straightened her little hair bow on the side of her head, pinning her hair back to one side. He kissed her forehead. “Mummy said y’were close. Y’did a great job. Y’jus’ have t’remember there’s an A,” he reminded her and then pinched her cheek gently. “Like the grade you’re going t’get, right?” He winked at her.

Evie’s sweet eyes lit up with new hope. She turned to the pretty woman at the door holding Eli’s hand to usher him quickly out of the house now that his shoes were securely on his feet. “Mommy! Did you hear what Daddy said to help me remember?”

She grinned so beautifully; it melted him. The center of his chest felt deliriously warm. It felt equivalent to being snuggled under a blanket with her, warm and close while it snowed outside their house. The kids drinking hot chocolate at the coffee table and a movie playing in the background.

It was unbelievable she was all his. “What did Daddy say, Evie?” Eli held onto her hand tight while he jumped from the second to last step of the porch while Evie explained the A she was going to get. “Well, I guess you inherited your smarts from Daddy, hmm?” Which was unequivocally a joke. She was a hundred times smarter than him. Or at least it felt that way. But he loved her so much for never making him feel less than. She was good at that. It was impossible to feel less than in her presence.

She was good at everything. Her job, being a wife, but perhaps his favorite thing, she was a tremendous mother. Something he knew she would be good at, but not to the extent he witnessed on a daily basis. Eli hurried to Harry and Buddy petting the dog’s head and giggling when he licked his face. Harry kissed the top of his head and gave his little body a squeeze. “What smarts?” Harry asked.

She rolled her eyes as she finally approached her family. “You’re plenty smart, baby,” she shook her head with a gentle smile. The two kids that looked like the perfect combination of them went to her car and climbed into their respective seats. Harry wrapped his free arm around her back and pulled her to his side. He kissed her temple, nosing along her hairline.

“Not as smart as m’beautiful wife,” he reminded her. She laughed.

“I love you.” She tilted her head up for a kiss which Harry never let her wait for.

“I love you,” he grinned into the kiss.

“Ew!” Eli called.

“Mommy, let’s go!” Evie was eager to get to school and ace her spelling test.

“Bye Daddy!” Eli shouted. She gave his cheek a final peck and she headed across the yard to take their kids to school. “See you at my soccer game!”

“Hey kitten?” He called.

“Yeah?” She asked over her shoulder.

“M’a lucky man t’have you,” he reminded her.

She shook her head, laughed. “Me too, baby. Luckiest girl in the world to have you.”

The second her door closed behind her a swarm of hummingbirds fluttered so loudly into the yard. Seemingly out of nowhere. The noise of their wings was unbelievable. A dull roar. It was hundreds of the little birds, and she paid no mind to them as she started her car. Buddy didn’t care about the intrusion either. Even the kids were indifferent. “Are y’seeing this?” He called out to her. He blinked curiously when she didn’t respond. “What’s with all the—”

I had a dream last night / we were married in that house you always talked about / you were rushing to get the kids to school / packing their lunches, reviewing their spelling words / it was hummingbirds

Harry’s heart was beating like he had just finished a workout. His skin felt clammy. The sheets were wrapped too tightly around his legs. He groaned as his alarm vibrated to the same hum of the birds in his dream. The music playing alongside the vibration made him grumpy. “What the fuck?” He whispered and smacked the song off. He wished he could go right back. Did Evie pass her test? Did Eli score a goal?

Did she still love him the way he dreamed about?

Dr. Hendren listened to Harry’s dream but very much already knew the ending. It was the same as all his dreams with the house and the girl that he had been hearing for ten years.

“Harry,” the doctor said gently as he watched Harry on his screen. “Do you know what hummingbirds symbolize?”

“No,” Harry was grumpy. He always was after a dream that was so real so lifelike. It wasn’t fair. He just wanted her back. Wanted to see her. Wanted to know.

“Healing.” Dr. Hendren was quiet while Harry processed that. He worked his jaw, swallowing, and flexing it as he tried to get the words to come out. His body felt tense. Like he was trapped inside a box that was too small. That didn’t seem right. He didn’t feel like he was healed. He was still frustrated most of the time. Work was a minor distraction, and the loneliness was crippling at times. The only reprieve was dreaming of that pretty girl he knew so many years ago.

Why did it have to be her? She didn’t deserve Harry and his bad attitude. She already suffered through it for two years at a time when life should have been fun, lovely, sweet. They were kids and Harry was an ass. He never even said he loved her back then.

“Don’t you think,” Dr. Hendren continued quietly, and Harry knew what he was going to say. “You’ve been quiet long enough about what you want?” He shrugged. “Harry,” he tutted.

“I wasn’t a good boyfriend.”

“You were a kid.”

“She deserved more.”

“Then tell her. Worst case scenario, she doesn’t want to talk to you and you’ll have some closure and you can stop dreaming about it.”

Harry remained silent, looking around his empty apartment. He took a deep breath and nodded. “Alright. I’ll reach out to her.”

“Harry,” Dr. Hendren said quietly. “Have you thought about the best-case scenario?”

He shook his head. Thatkind of hope could kill him. But he knew why the dreams were so powerful these days. Why they were so steady and quick.

Woke up bleeding from my mouth / I bit my tongue right through / well I broke the habit / I guess that I’d had it not saying the things I need to

The following morning, he searched his inbox from an email he hadn’t used in ten years and found the address he never thought he’d email again after he broke up with her way back when.

But Harry wasn’t twenty anymore. He was trying to move on. Trying to fix things that should have been fixed a long time ago. He sat on the couch, typed out seven different versions of the message and clicked send before he could overthink it any longer. He slapped the computer shut and rubbed his hands on his pants. He took a sip of the tea he made hoping to calm himself and told himself that it was okay if she didn’t answer.

Hey. Long time. Not sure if you use this email. I know it’s been a long while. Hope you’re well. ... I’ve been thinking of you. And truthfully, I had a pretty realistic dream that you were in the other night. Nothing weird. Just my old self and back then and... I don’t know. ... How are you?

If she was working, she might just be getting settled. Or maybe out with a friend. Running errands. He refrained from imagining a little family that was waiting on her for dinner but reminded himself anyway that there were a million reasons she—

His phone lit up on the table beside the computer and his heart skipped a beat.

Harry Styles. As I live and breathe :) I’m well! How are you?

That little smiley face made his heart ache with adoration for her. He could picture her pretty face smiling. But she answered.

Good. Yeah. I… I’ve been going to therapy regularly. Finally had to and... my doctor and I have discussed a lot of things. You were one of them. I just... wanted to chat with you. I’m sorry, this is so out of the blue and weird.

No! Not at all, Harry. I’m glad you reached out. It’s really nice to hear from you. Therapy? That’s amazing! Do you like it?

I’m a work in progress.

Aren’t we all? :)

He smiled feeling relieved. Even just reading words on a screen made him feel at ease. He could practically hear her sweet, encouraging voice.

What are you up to? Do you live in state still?

Yes! I actually just moved down the road from the college. I’m a guidance counselor at the local high school.

That’s lovely. I’m not surprised you accomplished your goals. Your students are lucky to have you. Are you doing okay? It has to be draining.

A lot of the time yeah. But it’s rewarding as hell. You know I love kids, and I love being able to help.

Harry wondered if it was possible to love her more than he ever had before.

There’s a shadow on my shoulder / always whispers in my ear / that I’m so angry all of the time / I should be alone another year / I didn’t say it how you needed it / must have written it down a thousand times / all the things I would scream at the top of my lungs / if I wasn’t so busy saying I’m fine.

Harry had a habit of not saying what he was feeling. He bottled so much of it up and hid it from the rest of the world. Even people he loved. When he was dating her back in college, he kept a lot hidden and exploded when she asked him simple questions about himself. Trying to understand him and why he was angry all the time. Her willingness to look past it, try and help, and just continue to be kind to him made him angry too. It was constant, draining. It was like he couldn’t help himself.

There was a tiny voice in his head that told him he was too angry for her. She deserved someone lovely and sweet. Someone who would talk to her and tell her things. Be the person she deserved. Because despite everything, Harry loved love. It was nearly impossible for him to show it back then. But he did. He wanted to love her the way she needed.

But he was so busy being angry and bottling his emotions he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t love her the right way.

It was so unfair to her and looking back on it made him feel like a proper ass.

So, he was grateful for the email communication. He couldn’t imagine having this conversation with her about all this in person. They chatted for days. Catching up on things, reminiscing. Their email chain was up to 100 something messages. Some messages were long. Harry chatted about his family and she about hers. There were updates on work. On friends they still spoke to and no longer did. The conversation continued over the course of a little under a week.

But the most shocking details came from her.

I mentioned I moved... my ex-fiancé broke off our engagement. Don’t feel too bad for me, it’s actually a relief in hindsight. Something I’ve been trying to figure through. It’s why I know that anything you feel you did wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought it was. There’s far worse relationship enders than a little bit of anger.

Jesus, I’m so sorry, kitten.

Well, isn’t that a sweet name for sore eyes :) Don’t be sorry. It’s good. I have this cute apartment to myself and it’s for the best it happened now before there were too many variables to consider...like kids or a house or something, you know? I’m definitely sad. But he wasn’t the one for me at the end of the day.

Sorry for dumping all that on you. It’s not really fair given our past. I think a lot of my friends disagree with my choice on this to let him go so it’s nice to just tell someone non-judgmental.

Harry felt angry the way he used to. The way that made him want to scream and he felt the desperate need to message Dr. Hendren because he felt out of his depth. All he said was sorry. How could she feel he was non-judgmental. He was judgmental. He was judging the fuck out of the piece of shit that broke her heart and made her sad.

But he was no better.

The man is an idiot to lose you. I know from experience.

:) I have to head to bed, there’s a big pep rally tomorrow at school so I have to have my brain ready for chaos. Sleep well Harry.

Good night, kitten.

He reread those messages over and over and right before he was going to fall asleep, his phone lit up with one more message.

You’re not an idiot by the way. He might be, but you, Harry Styles are not.

So of course, he dreamed of Evie, Eli, and the sweet girl at the other end of his emails that night.

And hummingbirds.

Thousands of hummingbirds.

Most of their messages were short.

I’ve been going to therapy for three years now.

That’s wonderful, Harry. Really. Do you like it?

Yeah...it’s hard.

:( Yeah... It really is. Do you like your therapist?

Yeah. I’ve had him the whole time.

Yeah? That’s good. I’m... proud of you. I don’t want to be weird about it, but I know you were angry. Really angry. It wasn’t good. You didn’t deserve that. I’m glad you have someone to help you work through it.

...You were so nice to me. When you shouldn’t have been. I didn’t treat you right.

You were wonderful, Harry. We were practically kids. If our relationship had any faults, it was because we were too young. I don’t regret a second of time being with you.

His heart skipped a beat. He felt that frustration from back when they were young, and she was so understanding but it didn’t make him grumpy or feel inadequate. All he felt was a sense of belonging. Something he probably would have felt back then if he could have gotten out of his own way. She was willing to look past it then as she was now.

You’re much too forgiving. He wrote. Because old habits die hard.

You weren’t fine, Harry. You didn’t know. We didn’t know what we were dealing with at that age.

Harry hadn’t a clue what he was dealing with. Did he even know now?

Can... can I give you something?

Give me something?

Yes. I... I can bring it to your apartment or to school or we can meet, I just... I’ve been trying to let it go but I think... I think my dream was reminding me that... there’s more to you. More I need to do for you.

Sure, if you think it will give you closure.

God, Harry wanted anything but closure.

Just to clarify: I don’t think you owe me anything.

I kept a lot hidden from you. I held back and it wasn’t fair. All you wanted was to love me and I wouldn’t let you.

It’s a vulnerable thing, Harry. To be loved. You didn’t do anything wrong. We were just young.

But... you knew I wasn’t fine, and you tried and... I just wasn’t fair to you.

You were fine, Harry. I promise. Bring me whatever it is that you need to give me to make you believe you did what you could with what you had.

Her apartment had a wreath on the door. It was beautiful with an array of burnt orange and red flowers and green vines. The perfect fall wreath. Beside the door were three pumpkins of different sizes. If he didn’t have her address, he almost thought he would know it was her place. He looked at the mat in front of the door that said welcome, and he wondered if there was any other place where someone actually meant it.

Swallowing, he took a deep breath and knocked. After a minute, the door was out of the way.

At 18, Harry thought she was beautiful. The most beautiful girl he had ever met. During the time they dated, he thought she got more beautiful every second. Apparently, he was right because the woman before him somehow got exponentially more beautiful. Her smile was so inviting, so warm. Like he was seeing an old friend. “Hey Harry,” her voice was sweet. Not an ounce of distrust, frustration, nothing. Their breakup was ten years ago. Not a degree of anger was left.

Harry wasn’t angry either. Not anymore. But if she had broken up with him and he hadn’t done all this work to better himself, he would have been. He didn’t know how she could be so sweet after all she went through.

“Hi,” he swallowed. “I don’t want t’keep you. S’really nice t’see you,” his dream didn’t do her justice. Sure, she was beautiful especially with their imaginary kids. Simply stunning. But this was more. This was the beautiful angel he loved so much even when she wasn’t his to love.

“You’re not keeping me; do you want to come in?” She shifted to open the door wider. “I can make some tea. Or we can order pizza?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I jus’ want t’give y’this,” he handed her the shoe box.

She opened the lid. “Well, you know I won’t say no to shoes,” she smirked.

As much as he wanted to laugh at her joke, he felt like he made a mistake. The box was out of his hands. Not because of what was in there but because of the fear of rejection and being so vulnerable. Feelings of inadequacy were currently circulating through his bloodstream. “Um... s’not—”

“What is this?” She asked, tilting her head. He swallowed, pinched his lower lip between his fingers and took a deep breath.

“S’letters.”

“Letters?”

“I wrote t’you.”

“Me?”

He took a deep breath. “M’sure y’know m’not good at saying what m’feeling.”

She replaced the lid, leaning against the frame. “I feel like I’m a little lost here, Harry.”

He nodded, shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t fidget or reach back out to take it from her. His mouth felt dry. He wished he had taken her offer for a glass of water now. “I know y’said y’thought we were fine. But m’not happy with how I treated you. Y’were an angel. The perfect girlfriend and I treated y’unfairly a lot. I guess I’ve really held onto that and some of those letters are old but when I hit low points I thought ‘bout what y’said back then. How I wasn’t on m’own. I was allowed t’be angry. But I had t’let people in. All that. I wrote t’you a lot over the years. M’therapist said it was actually one of the smartest things I’ve done on m’own,” he chuckled. “I want you t’read them. When y’have time. I guess. I don’t know,” he cleared his throat. “This is really scary,” he admitted.

“Okay,” she nodded encouragingly and reached out to his forearm. She squeezed it reassuringly. It was only a touch on his arm, and he felt so good feeling it. He knew it was her training kicking in. Like a broken, beaten student at her office door. “I can do that,” she assured him. “Do you want me to text you about each one? Or just a summary of all of them? Or do you want me to not say anything?”

He looked at his feet. “Fuck...” he whispered to himself. “I don’t know.”

“Okay,” she took a deep breath. “Thank you,” she smiled. “I’ll start reading tonight and I’ll decide in the moment. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want.”

He nodded, looked at his feet. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“S’a lot.”

“I enjoy reading, Harry,” she grinned and moved her hand to his upper arm and soothingly rubbed up and down. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Of course he did. There was no one else he really did. He nodded, feeling nauseous but still lighter. “I’m gonna go now,” he swallowed.

“I’ll email you,” she assured him with a smile and headed inside.

Like it grows old real fast / how much you can love and not get it back / were we too attached? / It’s a shame how often goodbyes last / I thought we were better than that / I thought I was stronger at last.

The knock on the door was hurried, eager. Insistent on being heard.

At first, he felt frozen in the kitchen cleaning up the dinner he made himself and placing the dirty dishes in the sink. Maybe he imagined the knock. Maybe he was just dreaming again. Plus, she said she would email right? This wasn’t something to feel nervous about.

But the flutter of knocking continued. He hurried from his frozen position as the rapid taps hit the wood. He knew. His gut telling him exactly who was on the other side of that door. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed before pulling it out of the way.

“You bought me the house?!” She shrieked.

Harry dipped his head to avoid her eyes. “Yes.”

“Harry Styles, what the fuck?!”

He felt sick. “You hate it?”

Her eyes were red, glossy. Not what he expected at all. But why wasn’t it? This wasn’t normal. After a breakup of her own where she was sure she was going to marry the guy. Harry appeared out of nowhere. Telling her that he had a dream about her, and he hadn’t stopped thinking about her.

She covered her mouth and shook her head. “Harry,” she croaked.

“I’m—"

“You can’t buy me a house! We’re not even... Harry. This is insane! You have to see that!”

He shrugged. “I guess... but... I don’t know, kitten. I think about you all the time. I see this house in my sleep. I see our life in m’dreams every night.”

She was wearing only socks. Like she didn’t even have time to put on shoes. She held the paper in her hand wrinkled like she had read it hundreds of times already even though he had only given it to her the night before and he just knew which one was in her hands. She cleared her throat and read the date from ten years ago before she read the remainder of the letter.

To the resident(s) of 1278 Chestnut Street

My name is Harry Styles, and I am a college student in town. My girlfriend and I walk by your lovely home every day when we head to our favorite coffee shop after class. We love your home. Or I should say, my girlfriend LOVES your home. She claims it’s her dream home. The porch, the yard, the location... everything. She even loves your driveway. Every bit of your house is part of this fantastic dream she has of the life she wants in the future.

I don’t know if I’ll be with her forever. I am... working on myself. I’m not very good at all this relationship stuff. Especially when it comes to her. Quite frankly, I think she deserves way better than me. But on the off chance I am lucky enough to keep her in my life for as long as I would like, I want to make her dreams come true. She deserves that. She deserves every single one of her dreams to come true. She is the kind of girl that deserves every good thing that can possibly be provided for her.

If you ever find yourself selling, would you please consider emailing me first? Of course, if you have family that you plan on giving your home to, I understand. I can’t even promise I’ll be able to afford it, but I’ll want to know. If only to pass on the message to her somewhere down the line. She deserves the chance to have all her dreams come true.

I’m not sure where you are in life or if you have ever been in a relationship like this one. This girl is so special. She’s an angel. The kind of love that even a movie couldn’t show, or a book couldn’t write. I’m lucky to have her right now and I don’t know why she’s with me. I don’t know why I’m even sending this crazy letter other than I know I have to try. Even if she’s smart enough to leave me, I want her to know her dream home is available. Somewhere down the road. Even if we’re not on the same road anymore. That’s what she deserves.

I’m sorry to bother you like this. I hope you can understand what love can do to a guy in college with a girlfriend who is LEAGUES above him. Thank you for taking time to read this and I hope you continue to enjoy your lovely home.

Sincerely,

Harry

Her voice shook as she read it. “You sent that when we were in college.” He nodded, swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at the packet stapled together. “They emailed you,” she whispered. He nodded again.

“Dear Harry. We got your letter. When the time comes. We’ll be moving closer to our children. They’ve never expressed interest in our house the way you have. My wife and I met in college and believe me, I know a little something about finding the girl of your dreams. It’s nice you’re working on yourself. You deserve the life that fits this house too. We hope it’s with the girl that is leagues above you (although, we imagine she’d think differently). We’ll be in touch. The Andersons.”

Harry watched her flip the page as she made eye contact with him briefly before returning her gaze to the paper in front of her.

“Dear Harry. We hope life is treating you well. That you’re working on yourself, and your girlfriend is still around. If she’s not, we hope you’re not being too hard on yourself. We wanted to let you know we’ll soon be moving to a retirement community close to our son. We want to have you (and your girlfriend) over for dinner if you’re available. Let us know.”

Harry knew what was coming but he was still terrified. Why was she here? Barefoot. Reading the letters to him. What did she think.

“Dear Harry. It was so nice to meet you in person. Here is the contract we discussed. See you soon.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “Kitten,” he whispered.

“Dear Harry. We hope you get her back. Enjoy your home. Never stop giving out your love. The Andersons.”

She was teary, swallowing hard. Her hands were shaking as she held the papers in front of her. “You bought me a house.”

He nodded. There was a pause. “M’sorry I took so long.”

She dropped the papers and launched herself into his arms. He stumbled back at the impact. Her arms around his neck, her feet barely touching the floor as she tucked her face into his shoulder. “Harry,” she whimpered. Harry sighed, wrapped his arms tightly around her, one at her waist, the other hand cupping the back of her head.

“I’ve loved you for so long,” his voice felt raw. Like he was the one that was crying and shaking. Not her.

She sniffled and nodded. “I know,” because she did. She read every single letter. Watched the date change but one thing never did and that was the love she felt in each letter.

“M’so tired, kitten,” he croaked.

“Of what, baby?” She cupped his face. The emotion on his face was tender and nothing like she remembered from ten years prior. Her thumb soothingly rubbed his cheek.

“Life without you,” he closed his eyes tight. “This house is yours I want nothing more than for you t’have it, but I want it t’be ours.”

She sniffled, ducked her head briefly as she glanced around. “You decorated it for Halloween,” she whispered.

“You would have done better.”

She snorted. “Harry...”

“If this is the house that makes you happy then I want it jus’ as much, kitten. But you’re my home. You always have been.”

“I don’t know what to say Harry,” she whimpered.

“Say yes.”

“Harry...” she whispered.

“Please, I’m so tired of loving and loving and never feeling that way. I know s’how I made y’feel in college and y’jus’ dealt with it. Y’jus’ wanted love and I didn’t give y’what y’needed. But m’ready now. M’so ready t’do whatever y’need t’love you the way y’deserve. The way y’always deserved.”

Not for the first time in his life, Harry prayed that if this was a dream, he would never wake up.

He never thought he would hold her again. Never thought she would be in the house she always wanted. Or that she would know he was sorry for how he was back when he was an angry kid.

Perhaps most importantly, he never thought he would feel her lips on his ever again.

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I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #second chance romance!Harry #hummingbirds

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mortalityplays · 10 months ago

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You need more free art.

I quit my job yesterday. Well, actually I quit my job eight weeks ago, but they finally released me yesterday for good behaviour. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do - but I do it for the wrong reasons. Working for major charities, you learn very fast that 'I want to make the world a better place' is a phrase you use to ask people for money, not to give them things. I was an ass-backwards fit for that world.

You need more free art. I need more free art. Everyone has felt the shift in our media landscape over the last ten years, away from access and towards nickel-and-diming the human experience. That lack of access is making life and culture worse for all of us, across the board. Paywalled news sites leave us less informed, attacks on the Internet Archive leave us less capable of research. Algorithmic social feeds and streaming walled gardens trap us inside smaller and smaller demographic bubbles, where we are increasingly only likely to encounter ideas that have been curated for us by marketing departments. Hasty efforts to resist AI commodification have only led to more artists locking their work away and calling for even more onerous systems of copyright law. This is not good for us.

We all need more free art.

So what am I going to do about it?

This is a question I have been asking myself for years. It's easy to sit here feeilng frustrated and thinking 'boy I hope SOMEONE does SOMETHING'. It's harder to take action in a world where I still have rent to pay. But hard doesn't mean impossible. Sometimes hard just means time-consuming, frustrating and slow. And sometimes it's worth doing something time-consuming, frustrating and slow because...I want to make the world a better place.

I'm going to do this:

1. From April 1st, I am relaunching as a freelance writer and editor.

This is the one that will (hopefully) help to pay the bills. I am a very good and experienced editor. I've worked on hollywood movies, I'm a member of the Chartered Institute of Editors and Proofreaders, I have clients who have been coming to me exclusively for more than 10 years.

Alongside bigger contract jobs, I am going to refocus on offering my services to small-press creators at a reduced rate. That means you, graphic novelists. That means you, itch and amazon writers. I want to help you develop your work, the same way I help large organisations. You can learn more about what an editor even does and what kind of pricing you can expect here.

2. I'm also going to start giving shit away. Like, constantly.

Next week I'm going to launch a new free shop. If you're unfamiliar, a free shop, giveaway shop, swap shop, etc. is an anarchist tradition of setting up a storefront where anyone can take what they like for no cost. Offline, this often means second-hand clothes, tools, furniture, food etc. Online, I am going to be giving away digital art. Copyright-free, no strings attached. It will (eventually) feature everything from print-res posters to zines, poems, tattoo flash, t-shirt designs and anything else we come up with.

Yes, I said 'we' - while this is a curated collection, it will feature work from a variety of credited and anonymous artists and activists, all of whom have agreed to give their work away to the public domain. Some of it will be practical, some of it will be political, but a lot of it will be decorative or personal. This is, in part, a response to recent difficulty I had finding somewhere that would print a one-off joke poster for a friend that featured the word 'faggot'. Enough. No middlemen - no explaining ourselves. Just print our shit and enjoy it.

I'm very, very excited about this project. I'll have more to say about it closer to the launch, but you can expect it to go live on March 27th.

2.2 I forgot to mention the ACTUAL LAUNCH GIVEAWAY

To celebrate my launch, I am going to be giving away a ton of physical prints. When I went looking for my old stock to see if it was worth setting a new (paid) storefront up, I realised I had way more old work in storage than I thought. This will be announced in its own right on Monday, but this is why I've been hinting you should go follow my Patreon.

On April 1st, I will pick 8 random patrons (from across all tiers including non-paying followers!) and mail them a bundle of assorted prints and postcards. The prize pool includes A3 and A4 posters, packs of A6 postcards, and printed minicomics that I've previously sold for up to £12 each.

You don't have to be a paying subscriber to enter - this is strictly no-purchase necessary. It is purely and entirely a celebration of the concept of GIVING ART AWAY FOR FREE.

3. PORN, YOU PERVERTS

Because I still have to pay to stay alive, I am going to be subsidising all this free art with the introduction of Fuck You Fridays. Starting from March 29th, I will drop a new 18+ short story on the last Friday of every month, over on itch.io (yes I know my page is desolate right now, don't worry I'll get there).

The first edition, Go Fuck Yourself, is about, well - telling your boss where to stick it. Julia has had it with her millionaire man-child manager, and is just about ready to let him know what she really thinks. It's a short and steamy 5k words, with a gorgeous cover illustration by @taylor-titmouse, and you can pick it up for $3 starting from March 29th.

4. ANOTHER BIG SURPRISE

I'm keeping this one under wraps for now, but April 1st will also play host to one more (FREE) launch. If you've been following me for a long time, you might remember the other significance of this date (no not April Fool's day, though that is certainly thematically relevant to this entire effort). That's all I'll say right now. Watch this space.

tl;dr: I'm sick of paywalls and career ladders. I'm literally putting my money where my mouth is. More free art for everyone and I'm not kidding around!!!

#announcement #please reblog let's make this HAPPEN

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cheriecoke · 15 days ago

Text

˚₊‧꒰ა ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY — levi ackerman

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎. your car breaks down before you can make it home for christmas. it leaves you with no choice but to call your ex-boyfriend.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈. fluff, sfw, gn!reader, exes, christmas, light angst, second chance romance, soft!levi, modern au — 3.3k words

𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈. dropping the annual levi christmas fic. happy birthday to my beloved, he is such a special character to me and has gotten me thru some rough times :( forever grateful u exist levi ackerman. this was going to go in a completely different direction in my head but... alas the words lead me and i must follow. hope you enjoy!

Of all the things to happen on Christmas Eve, car trouble ranked among the worst. Which, naturally, meant that’s exactly what happened to you.

Something not too far from a blizzard had come in overnight, coating the roads in a thick, hazardous blanket. It looked beautiful, sure, but you were two hours away from where you needed to be on Christmas, and you figured — how bad could it be?

The answer was bad.

You’d skidded, blown out a tire (they were old, due for a change), and found your hood popped open with an odd smoke, stranded only 30 minutes south of where you’d come from. Your family was expecting you home by the evening, there to see everyone for Christmas Eve dinner.

At this rate, you’d be lucky if you made it for Christmas at all.

After cursing yourself profusely for not just taking an extra day off and leaving yesterday, you started scrolling through your phone, looking for assistance.

The towing company answered the line in a sharp tone, already dismissive of your worries. It was idiots like you that kept them working Christmas Eve, and their annoyance was evident.

“What can I do for you?” a man, testy and older, answered.

You explained the situation, and received a less than understanding response.

“Sorry, miss, but we’ll be two hours out. There’s been a few other incidents, and we’re short-staffed. We can give you another call when we free up.”

“But I need to be somewhere tonight. There must be something you can do?”

“Sorry,” he said again, but it was clear he wasn’t very sorry at all. “If I were you, I’d start making calls… See if there’s anyone brave enough to come pick you up in this weather.”

He hung up on you.

You groaned, throwing your hands up in the air. It was unlikely that anyone would want to be your savior tonight. Your family was still 70 miles away, and everyone else you knew had other plans for Christmas Eve.

But.

You knew this stretch of road well, were more familiar with it than most streets along here. It was a country highway that wrapped around the smaller town before leading you onto the interstate, one direction to your hometown, the other to the city you lived in.

Of course, it was here that your car had decided to break down, just ten minutes away from your ex-boyfriend’s house — a man you knew would be home, and certainly wouldn’t be afraid of the weather.

In fact, he was the only one that wasn’t a tedious drive away, that could save you from the unfortunate situation you’d found yourself in.

You squeezed your eyes tight, trying not to cry.

Calling Levi seemed your only choice — as pathetic of a choice as that was. You weren’t even sure he’d still have your number, or if he’d answer. But, your hands were becoming numb, the temperatures were dropping with the sun, and you weren’t sure how long you could stay out here without getting frostbite.

Still, on the second ring, you faltered, licking your lips.

Maybe this was a bad idea. It’d been three years, after all. For all you knew, he could’ve had a new partner, could’ve been engaged. He could’ve moved across the country without any warning — you had no idea.

Your hand started to fall away from your cheek, phone dropping with it. But the familiar tone stopped you, interrupting the third ring.

“Hello?”

You exhaled, unprepared for the wave of emotions that washed over you from that simple word. Levi sounded exactly like you’d remembered, his voice even, almost monotone, nothing in it betraying his emotions.

Still, it made your stomach twist. You couldn’t help but recall a time when that word had held a hint of affection in it.

“Levi,” you said, pushing away that line of thought to keep your voice steady. “You answered.”

He was, apparently, just as surprised as you were. There was a long pause on the other end, before he resumed talking.

“I almost didn’t,” Levi admitted, releasing a breath of air that had to have come through his nose. “I didn’t want to. But, I couldn’t think of a good reason you’d call me on Christmas Eve unless—”

“I’m so sorry,” you cut him off, apologizing. You pinched the bridge of your nose, shivering in the cold. “I wouldn’t be calling if I weren’t desperate. but my car broke down — I was driving back to my parents’ house, and the tow company can’t come yet…” you rushed through the story, sparing too many details. “But it’s freezing, and you were the closest person I could think to call.”

He went silent once again.

That was when you started to realize how crazy you’d been to call him. The last conversation you’d had was around this time of year, both of you stiffly walking through all the reasons you were worse for each other than you were better.

This was a horrible idea.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, shaking your head. Tears of embarrassment flooded your waterline. You weren’t sure they’d ever stopped. “This was stupid. Fuck. Forget it. I’ll—”

“Where are you?”

“What?”

“Where are you?” Levi repeated, insistent. “I only answered because I figured it was an emergency. Looks like I was right. So where are you?”

Your heart flipped at the notion that, even if it was a small part of him, he still cared.

After fifteen more minutes of shivering in your freezing car, you ended up back at Levi’s house. The same house he’d lived in for ten years, and probably would live in until he died.

Levi wasn’t a homebody — in fact, he liked to spend more time outside of the house than he probably spent in it. He traveled a lot, sometimes for work, sometimes for fun. But it was a home that had belonged to his mother, until she passed away when he was freshly eighteen.

Even if he hated living in this suburban town, you didn’t think he could stomach to part with the home he’d been raised in. One of the only things he had left of his mom.

It was almost heartbreaking, that you knew such intimate details about a person that had faded out of your life.

Levi’s house looked about the same, but Levi… Well, he looked incredible. As far as breakups went, he must have gotten the better end of it.

His black hair was lightly dusted with snow when he helped you out of his car, red cheeks a bright contrast against his pale skin. Time may have dulled your memory of him, but you could have sworn his eyes had gotten even more blue in the time you’d been apart.

God, he was gorgeous. How had you ever been with someone like him?

“Would you like any tea?” Levi asked, taking you to the kitchen. Not like you’d forgotten how to get there. You’d spent enough time in his house to know the layout, right down to the foundation.

“Sure,” you said, still shivering, even with the heat blasting in the house. “Thank you, Levi. Not just for the tea, but for helping me. I won’t stay long, I promise.”

Levi was rummaging through his cabinet, and looked over his shoulder, back at you. Something rest on the edge of his tongue, but he said nothing, busying himself once more.

The kitchen was the same as you’d remembered. None of the furniture had changed, but he’d added new appliances, changed out some of the cookware. Poinsettias were in the middle of the table, the only festive thing in the room.

You stared at them, and frowned, the tension between the two of you palpable. While you’d met each other once again like you’d never been parted, there still an underlying current of mistrust and uncertainty. A feeling that was expected to linger.

The break-up between you hadn’t been nasty, but you hadn’t parted on the best of terms, either. You and Levi had always argued… a lot. Half the time, it didn’t mean anything, but you couldn’t stop yourself from spitting something mean when you got angry.

It was your similarities that drove you apart, not your differences. You were both so neat, you fought over where things were meant to go. You were both independent, you grew frustrated with sharing space and compromises.

You were both stubborn, and never admitted to being wrong, even when it caused a rift between you and split you apart for good.

Of course, the worst issue was your tendency to bottle up your feelings, rather than talk through them. A problem that Levi shared — meaning that every little thing between you was brushed under the rug, only to trip you up later.

Levi brought the steaming mug over, pushing it to you across the table. You took a small sip of it, blinking at him over the edge of ceramic.

“My favorite tea?” you asked, recognizing the taste of it immediately. “You remembered.”

“I wasn’t sure if you still liked it, but I’ve kept it around anyway,” Levi said, and, as if realizing what he’d admitted, continued, “It grew on me. I drink it now.”

You smiled. It was small and sad, mourning all the things you’d lost, but the sentiment warmed you all the same. You remembered Levi loved earl grey in the mornings, and chamomile before bed. In the fall, he preferred rooibos, the color and flavor reminded him of the autumn leaves.

Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he didn’t like any of those things, anymore.

“I’m glad you like it now,” you said, humming. “You never did, before.”

It sounded like a jab, even if you didn’t mean it as one. Levi stiffened, only slightly, before he released the tension and snorted, tightening his grip around the mug.

You glanced at his hands, slender and pale, veins purple under his skin. Hands that had once roamed all over your body, slipped inside you, pulling you apart from the seams.

That wasn’t a path you wanted to go down. You blinked, pushing away that line of thought as your stomach flipped, and prayed he hadn’t noticed your staring.

“Anyway,” Levi coughed, clearing his throat.

You nearly shrunk from embarrassment, certain that he had discerned your thoughts, but Levi wasn’t looking at you at all. His eyes were fixed on the clock across the room, watching the hand rotate around the frame.

“You were visiting your family. How have they been?”

Safe conversation, easy conversation. The kind that you could have had with any stranger, even if Levi knew all your family by name, knew your Christmas traditions. You repeated old history anyway, like you were meeting him for the first time, sharing weekend plans with an acquaintance before going your separate ways.

The two of you chatted for a while, sipping on your teas, all the while, avoiding the topic of his holiday plans — if only to sidestep the discomfort that came with hearing he had none. Not that that was shameful, of course. Plenty of people did nothing for the holidays, didn’t want to.

But, Levi had always come home with you for Christmas, for five years. Everyone loved him. Although you’d been nervous, at first, Levi fit right in, made himself comfortable with those that you cherished. He was polite, even though his sarcasm often bled through. But, that only made him funnier, in the eyes of everyone you held dear. They’d always given him two sets of gifts — for Christmas and his birthday — excited to watch him open them.

Levi had always been so stoic when he responded with a stiff thank you, but you could see how touched he was, how pleased to be integrating himself so easily into your life.

He’d made your holidays better than they’d ever been.

Now, he spent them alone.

You couldn’t help but feel like your breakup had taken something special away from him, something he should’ve gotten to keep, even whilst you were separated. Maybe you could invite him home with you, just so your cousins could play one more round of cards with him and lose.

Melancholia flowered in your chest, and you, then, yearned for those moments, the ones you’d kept so dear.

How had everything gone so wrong?

Your conversation stalled. You looked at each other, unsure what to say next.

Shifting anxiously in your seat, you stood, as if for the first time realizing that you were in Levi Ackerman’s house, and you shouldn’t have been. That you were having cordial conversation with a man you swore to never speak to again, and it was like falling back into a routine, it was normal.

And that was the worst thing about it — you knew why’d you’d broken up, but right now, you could hardly recall a good reason.

“I’m sorry,” you said for the millionth time that evening, eyes flashing towards the clock. It had only been thirty minutes, but the snow was getting worse and your tea was cold. “I should call my parents and let them know I won’t be home tonight. Hopefully the roads will be—”

“Wait.” Levi reached out, grabbing your hand before you could stand and make your exit.

Your eyes flashed down to where you touched, at the same time his did, before you uncomfortably broke away. Levi blinked, then chewed the inside of his cheek, his mouth still drawn into that unexpressive, thin line.

“What?” you asked, after too many seconds of silence.

Levi inhaled, then dropped his head, jaw working as he looked away. “I’ve done a lot of thinking, over the past two years.”

Your breath caught in your chest. “About?”

You already knew the answer.

“When we—” He licked his lips, eyes narrowing at the microwave, before they met your own. “Decided to end it.”

Decided to end it. What a harsh way of putting it, but you supposed it was true. A final round in the passionate romance you’d had. A break-up seemed too simple for what you’d been, when it had ripped your heart out of your chest.

“Oh,” you said, swallowing.

“I know you might not want to have this conversation,” he said, nodding to himself. “But I need to say what I should’ve a long time ago. That I’m sorry.” Levi’s eyes were on you then, a more intense shade than you’d ever seen before. You froze, feeling unable to move, locked in the storminess of his gaze. “So many things were my fault. All the times I was dismissive, the times I was angry. All the times I didn’t communicate when I should’ve.” He released a breath, and despite his bravado, you realized he was just as nervous as you were. “I didn’t know how to love you like you wanted, and I’m sorry that I did such a bad job of it.”

You blinked, watching him shift in his chair. “Levi…” you said slowly, softly, the word agonizing as it left his lips.

“I know that doesn’t make it right, but I need you to know. I am sorry. You deserved better.”

That, alone, brought you close to tears, that he seemed to be taking the blame for all the things that went wrong. Putting it on himself, when it was both of you, incapable of working together. “Levi, I’m sorry too,” you blinked back your tears, setting aside your pride. You’d already lost enough dignity, what was a little more? “You loved me just fine. Maybe I just couldn’t appreciate what I had. I never tried hard enough to make it work.”

“That isn’t true.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No,” Levi huffed, “it’s—” But then he stopped, gathering himself, catching the fall, right back into the same old routine. You looked down at your hands, embarrassed. “We weren’t bad for each other. Nothing we ever did was bad for each other.” It sounded like a question, even if it wasn’t.

“It must have been,” you said, in a small voice. “Otherwise…”

Otherwise, you’d still be together.

Levi smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His hands clenched and unclenched on the table. “I should’ve called you, when you left. I shouldn’t have let you walk away.”

“But you did.”

“I did,” he breathed. “And I regret it every day of my life.”

You looked up at him, eyes shining at the realization. He still wanted you, maybe even still loved you.

And as much as you cared for him, as much as your heart still bloomed in your chest at the sight of him, you weren’t sure how you felt about that.

“Levi—” you began, hoping to dispel the conversation. But he didn’t let it get that far, voice cracking at the start of his sentence.

“I mean it. I think about it all the time. About you. You were my friend as much as you were my partner, and I wanted you forever. I miss you. I—” Levi cut himself off, there, at the growing look of fear on your face, the knowledge that he was going to let something slip he shouldn’t.

It tugged at your heartstrings all the same, and you looked away, wrapping yourself up in your arms.

Silence fell across the room, the only sound the howling wind outside, a flurry of snow crashing against the window. Levi waited, patiently, for you to be the one to break the silence — and you summoned up all your courage, all your honesty, for a response.

“I would be lying, if I said I didn’t think about it too… What it would be like to try again.”

Levi looked up, blue eyes narrow, but sharp with anticipation. “You—”

“I miss you too, Levi.” It felt like carving your heart out of your chest and handing it to him on a platter. “But it couldn’t be like it was before. Where we talked to each other about everything except for what really mattered. We can’t.” you swallowed, shaking your head. “I can’t do that again.”

“I know.” Levi licked his lips. “Is that something… You would want?”

Was it? Was Levi truly what you wanted, or were you not thinking clearly, only remembering the good times amongst all the bad. Were you just yearning for an idealization of love, a feeling that you’d been missing since splitting with Levi? Was it him you really wanted, or just someone to call your own?

But you knew the answer. It was obvious.

“Yes,” you answered, so quiet you weren’t sure he could hear it. “I would… I do want that. Maybe that’s why I didn’t hesitate to call you tonight.”

Levi didn’t smile, but his eyes brightened, the storminess fading away so they looked like the sky. The cloud of grey above him melted away, and he seemed even younger than he had before, caught in the promises of adoration, akin to a boy in a schoolyard.

“You can spend Christmas with me. Your birthday,” you said, hesitantly, not knowing if you’d even make it home, if you’d be stuck here. If that kind of invitation was not yours to give. “If that’s something you’d want.”

“It is,” Levi answered softly, without questioning it, gripping your hand across the table. “I would’t want to spend it any other way.”

You smiled at each other, then, caught up in the glow of Christmas lights and the snow outside, a shaky vow holding between you. Maybe things wouldn’t change — maybe they would go back to how it’d been before, neither of you ever saying what you really meant. Maybe you’d hurt each other worse than you ever had before.

But you loved him — you loved each other. And that could be enough.

thank you for reading! ❤︎ reblogs and comments are appreciated!!! i might write a pt 2 if there is enough interest, but i wanted to finish this before christmas ◡̈

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eupheme · 4 months ago

Note

Your best friend Wade who always jokingly flirts with you the way he flirts with everyone - and you hate it because you have a real genuine crush on him and the flirting doesn’t mean anything… does it? It has to take a mutual friend to be like “oh my god he’s in love with you and doesn’t know how to tell you, so that’s why he’s always joking about boners” (please and thank u ilu 😌)

omg avo this kicked my ass, the amount of pining for Wade as he (jokingly, you think) flirts with you would be off the charts 🥲💖 I wrote a little drabble with how that might go, I love you and your ideas - thanks so much for sending this to me!!!

— cause every time we touch (i get this feeling)

best friend!wade wilson x mutant!reader

<1k | flirting, dirty jokes, heaps of pining

Blow job. Leg Spreader. Slippery Nipple. Liquid Viagra. Sex on the Pool Table. Pink Silk Panties.

Each time Wade comes into Sister Margaret’s - which is four or five times a week - he asks for dirtier and more obscure drinks.

"Wishful thinking", he tells you, each time.

Even with the roll of your eyes, you have to admit that it keeps you on your toes. That you look forward to seeing your best friend so often - tamping down the jolt in your belly, night after night.

Reminding yourself that yes, he got you this job, but he's not here to see you.

That this always was his spot.

It had been an easy sell. Used to working overnight shifts - security, back then. After the disaster with Weasel, they had been desperate for a replacement. Wade had come to you immediately, dropping to his knees as you opened the door.

Winning you over with a "you could literally get paid to hang out with me. How is this not a win-win-win? How is this not your dream job?"

And here, you didn't have to hide what or who you were. Reading feelings and intent were a bonus, when a handshake could tell you everything you needed to know. Their feelings spilled as easily as they were written, when you were negotiating contracts.

It also helped in-house. A human lie detector. Able to break up fights, settle arguments. A party trick, when things got slow. The regulars trying to get things past you - tales based in truth spun tall, seeing when you'd catch them.

Wade never plays, but you think that's because you know him so well.

And what seems like a sell, quickly evolves into more. Warping, as days pass. Spending more time with a crush sounds tempting, on paper.

The reality is something else.

Yes, there is a seat saved for him at the bar. Literally saved - his name scrawled across the vinyl, and you still haven't been able to scrub it out. Stopping by at all hours to chit chat.

Teasing you - how he's "so glad he doesn't have to stalk you at your old job anymore". An over-the-top sigh about being relieved that you're safe now - in your new job, surrounded by mercs.

Begging for the best job. Puppy-dog eyes. Fake coupons for favors that would make a sinner blush. Crossing his heart that you could have anything, and he means anything you wanted, if he could only get "that thing involving the murder clowns".

It's enough to make you hope.

Later, at home - in the early hours as you're pulled under. Replaying his comments. The filthy jokes and the shameless flirting - wondering if that's all they were.

Wondering if he'd be waiting for you tomorrow, perched on his stool.

But there's the downfall.

You see him - but you also see him with everyone else.

The charming smiles. Head thrown back in a laugh as he works the room. A friend to all, and as you watch him - perched on the knee of a goddess of mercenary as he yaps away, you can't help the swift current of jealousy.

Of foolishness.

It's enough that you're almost regretting agreeing.

Your mood is sullen, as you wipe down glasses. Trying to ignore the ache when you see him flirt. That realization that the something special you thought he had with you, might just be a part of his personality.

And when Dopinder shuffles from the back with more ice for the chiller behind the bar, it only takes one look at you before he's sighing.

"Not again. Please, I am begging you. I cannot take more of your yearning.”

Your lips quirk. Hadn't realized you'd become that obvious. He'd become your go-to, in the long hours you spend together behind the bar. Pinkie-promising not to say a word - but you always thought you'd had a decent handle on your expressions.

"We don't have to talk about it." Your hands raise, placating, "Just let me yearn in peace. I'll get over it."

"You know that almost half of what DP makes a month is funneled back in here, right?" He gives you a long look, "Before you, I saw him once a week. I had to beg him to come get his paycheck."

Doubt still lingers.

"Doesn't mean anything," You shrug - eyes dropping, as you help him restock.

"You do not think Mr. Pool worships the ground you walk on?"

The intensity of his question has you side-eying him, "I mean... I don't think he sees me that way. He acts the same with me as he does with everyone."

“Sure.” He huffs, leaning against the bartop, just as Wade plunks down in the seat in front of you.

“God, I haven’t been over here in like-,” Wade checks a fake watch, “Fifteen minutes? Feels like longer. Felt like a fucking hour.”

Pivoting back and forth on the stool as he adds, “Is it possible for people to get separation anxiety? Or is that just dogs? Is this how Dogpool feels when I’m gone?”

You just manage to catch the last bit, as Dopinder slips away.

“Exactly the same.”

Tonight, Wade is the first person that sits down in front of you for the game.

A frown, as you peel off your gloves - your barrier, to the outside world.

His own already bare - sliding back-and-forth over his suit-clad thighs. You'd mistake it for nerves, if you weren't so sure Wade had never been nervous in his life.

"What's your story, Wilson?" You ask, "Hope you brought something good."

"Oh, it's a whopper. A real fucking doozy. Apparently, you're not gonna believe it. " His laugh is a little too loud, and your eyes narrow, "But let's give it a whirl, okay?"

There's a flicker, behind the bar. A sideways look towards the bar, where Dopinder's hands cover his face. You don't need to touch him to read the guilt written across his features - the way he almost flinches, under your glare.

You're going to fucking kill him.

The sound of your name brings you back.

“Ready to play?”

Wade's hands rest face-up on the table - an offering. For once in his life he almost looks serious, and it’s enough to bring you back.

A breath - before you align your own. Letting them drop down, skin mapping against skin for the first time.

It floods through you.

The lick of heat that almost feels like a caress. A deep yearn that causes your own heart to twinge, layering with the feeling of need. Desire. Want.

It's familiar. It mirrors something deep inside, something that’s become as much a part of you as flesh and bone.

Oh.

A laugh slips from you, breaking the beat of silence. Relief tinged with disbelief - your smile stretching wide.

“Yeah?” You breathe, softening.

“Yeah.” He laughs, “Thought I was being obvious. But you are pound-cake dense, apparently.”

Hands flipping over, to entwine between yours. Letting that feeling inside him linger, settling warm and comforting over your bare skin.

“But I like that about you.” Another huff of a laugh, “Like all of you, really. Always have.”

It makes your heart ache. In a way that finally feels full, feels right - instead of the near-agony you’ve been bearing for weeks.

Only you could be such an idiot.

thanks for reading! 💖

#wade wilson x reader #wade wilson x you #deadpool x reader #deadpool x you #requests #avocado-writings #eupheme answers

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moonchild033 · 2 months ago

Text

5H Placements and It's Related Notes 🫶🩷🫣

(These observations are based on the whole sign system, sidereal charts and all obs are subject to change with other aspects in the chart, so don't conclude anything with a single placement, take whatever that resonates and leave the rest,hope you enjoy giving it a read, take it lightly!) ❤

This post includes the topics:

Planets in 5H, 5H placements who should be careful with gambling and addictions, 5H Planets and Children (Part 1) and BONUS POINTS

(I'm glad to make a post after a long time but I swear I felt extremely tired and half slept through it lol, so if u notice any English mistakes, look past it lmfao 🤣🤣🫠)

Let's start with planets in 5H:

5H SUN - Late pregnancy can be seen, either by their own decision or medical condition. Even if the sun is exalted, 5H suns are prone to argue and have difference of opinions with their father and the same could happen to them with their children, kids might be rebellious. Can be advantageous in terms of landing govt jobs. If u r in medical field, this placement can bring fame. They won't hesitate to do anything that makes them happy, they're adamant and stringent in pursuing the things they like, even in love, they might like the chase but also feel like their ego is hurt if the love is not reciprocal.🧡🧡🧡

5H MOON - They can be constantly thinking abt real estate, buying lands, generally constant thinking abt future.They have this urge to succeed in arts, fine arts and literary industry. Can be interested in agriculture, in this generation, they can be the ppl who like to have indoor plants or do terrace gardening as hobby.🩵🩵🩵

5H MARS - The multi-talented, independent, cool person in ur neighborhood. They have the enthusiasm to learn new things everyday, they hate to say 'idk', instead they put much efforts to learn various things.They don't get demotivated after failures or give up, the tendency to fight it all until the end can be seen. The downside is that in a love relationship, they might take hasty decisions on both entering and leaving a relationship.♥️♥️♥️

5H MERCURY - Jack of all trades, the difference between mars and mercury here is that mars puts hardwork to learn many things but mercury playfully masters educational knowledge and extracurricular. That one internet kid explaining physics equations and painting like a pro at 7yrs old🥲 They actually enjoy doing it, likes to feel intelligent for the love of the knowledge and not for fame or ego boosting. As kids, they could've been the ones showing magic tricks to other kids at school 😭😆 They're great at performing magic tricks as mercury is a playfully cunning planet.💚💚💚

5H SATURN - They might feel competitive with relatives, that feeling to become the best in their family will always be there. They would want to provide a luxurious life for their kids but feel bad or blame themselves if they couldn't do that. They are introverted and have hard time involving in leisurely enjoyments, so they can be seen as a boring or a very serious personality among their friends. They focus only on their own family and constrict their other circles, whether it be interacting with neighbors, friends, colleagues etc, they could be the type to go to office and come back straight home everyday religiously. A point to remember is to not expect too much from children and be satisfied with your old age life with them w/o having any expectation, whether it be materialistic or emotional needs, depending on yourself is the key.💙💙💙

5H VENUS - Lovely person, period. They are the people who always seem to be happy and try to make others happy too. Women with this placement have the girl's girl type of friendships where the girls are truly by their side. Can be known for their perfume like a signature or use a generous amount of fragrances like their life depends on it. The downside is to be careful in love relationships, this can give multiple relationships if Jupiter or 7H lord is not aspecting it. They could change hairstyles, dressing sense frequently, even updating the next model of their mobile phone even when it's perfectly working. Even if they're not rich or couldn't afford the rich stuff they like, they would still buy things that atleast appears rich, the end note is that they like to display their refined taste. Their hidden secret could be that in one point of time, they could've had an obsessive crush on a person with huge age gap or in a taboo type of relationship.🩷🩷🩷

5H RAHU - That one person who never listens, they question each and everything earning angry response from their parents or authoritative ppl but they really don't understand why other ppl are getting upset bcoz they will be lyk, 'What happened? I just wanted to know why🫠' but others might feel lyk they just like to oppose every little thing deliberately w/o much reason. If you have this placement and feel like you've to keep your relationship a secret, then it's definitely a bad relationship for you, it might be a forbidden fruit. We all would've done few things that we hide from our parents but this placement can enlarge that list, their parents just don't know abt a lot of hidden things they might do, this doesn't mean they're doing some criminal activity, this just means that their household can be traditional or strict and they could do some outrageous things that won't sit well with their parents.They might question religious practices, traditions and God, if this rahu gets lots of aspects from others, this could also develop into a God complex personality.🤎🤎🤎

5H KETU - The recurring but less spoken part abt this placement is the fate of easily getting caught for their mistakes, they would feel lyk their friends are doing much more errors but they're escaping, but this person gets caught red handed. Hence refrain from saying lies, gossiping or deliberately committing any mistake bcoz ur name will come up in speakers while those with u would get away with it🔊 😭🥲 Don't think my friends are here, we're doing it together, if something goes wrong, you would become the one carrying the blame, so be cautious and do a favor to exclude yourself from circles who drive you in wrong ways, doesn't matter even if it's just a minor thing. Even though you are generally a reserved person, problematic men would come to you in the disguise of matching your taste, they could look like they're matching your taste but like a serpent, after their skin sheds, they would become a different person who can damage ur very idea of luv (this is not to scare u, this is a friendly reminder to be cautious of chameleon like ppl when entering relationships). There's another point to remember, u would find it difficult to differentiate between good and bad ppl, so even if a good person approaches, you would lose them or upset them tremendously due to ur suspicious nature, you could question them a lot, asking for constant reassurance to the point of frustration. The good side of this placement is being talented in occult sciences and deep thinking ability, the tendency to pick up a thing and learn abt it from the roots. They would be blessed by ancestral God, praying in their ancestral temple often will be beneficial.🩶🩶🩶

5H JUPITER - 9th aspect of Jupiter falls on ascendant, hence they would be religious, have optimistic outlook on life, even though they're lucky, they themselves wouldn't trust in it, they r the type of ppl who think their own hardwork will get them to great heights. Even if this 5H Jupiter is debilitated, since he aspects and strengthens the ascendant, all ill effects can be overcome by this person, they have an unwavering strong personality to do so. They've taken this birth to enjoy the fruits of their past lifetime, so simply refraining from damaging distractions would keep them lucky in all endeavours.💛💛💛

(I know that I wrote very less for some planets above and more for others but it's just how my brain worked in the moment, I'll reblog and let u know if I add more or write extra about the less written placements in another post 🥺🩷)

5H placements who shouldn't be involved in gambling/sharemarket or any games that revolves around the concept of luck/guesses and be careful with any type of addictions or relationship with wrong ppl:

Saturn, mars, rahu, ketu, waning moon in 5H

5H sun (only) if in conj. with the above mentioned planets.

5H lord is Saturn or Mars and it is exalted.

5H lord conjunct with a debilitated planet or itself being debilitated.

5H- Pregnancy and Children🥹🩷:

5H SUN - Your children might want to get out of your embrace pretty soon, they want to fly high, go out and explore this world when you're not ready to let them go from ur grip. They could argue with you about how they want to be more expressive and enjoy everything life has to offer, u want the same for them but the sun being your natural soul significator, it feels like you're letting go a part of ur soul. Your child could be a natural leader, a sunshine in disguise. You can conceive late, you could enjoy lots of lovemaking sessions but the number of children can be less, mostly one or two, if two, the elder child will assert their dominance to the younger one, doesn't mean they would rule over them but they'll definitely show that they're the elder one and demand respect, but on the other hand, they're protective of their younger sibling too.❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

5H MOON - If u r a woman having this placement, learn to say NO and discuss about pregnancies, whether you want another baby or not. Eventhough this is a nice placement, later it can sometimes manifest into being treated as a baby making machine with or without being realized, so be ready to question yourself whether YOU want it. These mommies can be very affectionate and want more babies but learn to consciously differentiate between whether you love the act or you really want to raise babies as 5H being house of romance and lovemaking too, don't mix both in an emotional entanglement. Waxing moon will give smooth and normal delivery, waning moon can give some difficulties but probability of normal delivery can be high. You can have a loving relationship with your children, they can be homebodies too, the children can prefer the cozy home environment where you create a loving atmosphere. You can have more number of children, possibly many females or the first one being a girl baby.🥹🫶💙

5H VENUS - Your children could be a pain in the ass if you aren't well settled but this placement it is highly unlikely that you don't accumulate wealth over time. With this, you yourself will be bling-bling, you would double that for your child. This can manifest into you matching outfits, handbags, coolers and hairbands with your kid. During pregnancy itself, you could buy a lot of things beforehand for the arrival of the kid (which is common) but the things you buy might be overboard. These ppl are also prone to feeling inferior about how your body changes after childbirth, can do mommy makeover. You could expect lots of gift giving love language from your partner during pregnancy, on the downside, refrain using pregnancy or the child as a point to demand any luxuries from spouse. As venus aspects 11H, you could especially buy a car after first child. Possibility of female children is more.😍🥰🥰

5H MERCURY - Your children could be the type to recite about how their day was as soon as they come to you from school, as this would be the type of atmosphere you would've created. You would've established a safe and open communication space for your children where they feel comfortable with sharing. One thing you should remember is, when ur child says something to u alone and lets u know that they don't want u to tell it to the other parent, either you don't tell or share it with ur partner w/o ur child's knowledge according to whatever ur parenting technique is, but the point is to NOT betray ur child's trust when they TELL something bcoz u would be a person who has an amazing communication with ur partner too, u might be lyk besties gossiping together, this could make the child feel like you're not on their team or u and ur partner exclude them (which can be hilarious but it's a CHILD). U can have an equal number of male and female children but the gender of the first baby can be guessed here based on the aspects 5H receives.😃🤗✨

5H MARS - Your children will try to take care of u in their own way but don't do the parenting mistake of ordering them around, definitely not gonna work out here, it's either their way or highway. Number of children might be less, one or two male progeny can be present. More possibilities of delivery being medically assisted, even if it's not c-section, some medical assistance could be given to help. Your child can mirror you a lot, if you get frustrated and throw your phone, they might do the same bcoz they actively pick up patterns and copy them enthusiastically (all kids do that to an extent but with this placement, ur kid can be alert in taking in the environment shaping their behaviour). As a child, ur kid can be competitive but can be very anxious too, the nervous energy will be high if mercury is making aspect or conjunct, teach them calming exercises and encourage. You could be the mom who's fit even after a delivery, santoor mummy. On the downside, remember to not fight with your partner excessively infront of kid as 5H mars is a love-hate relationship, just every aspect of romance including the act and arguments everything is explosive, it can result in your kid disrespecting your partner.🫶😸💖

(I'll write the remaining planets in this list in the new post or add it here and reblog, I just got too tired, periods suck I swear 🫠😭🤗🩵)

EDIT: Find the remaining planets here! 🥳❤️‍🔥

BONUS POINTS FOR TODAY:

5H Placements who have the ability to guess what's gonna happen in the near future and protect themselves & their loved ones from unfavorable events are---

5H stellium, many planets in 5H lord's nakshatra, 5H lord exalted, 5H ketu 🥳🥰 (Fire ascendants to an extent if their 5H lord is not debilitated)❤️‍🔥

Even though Jupiter is male planet, if it's in 5H, the person has higher chances of having more number of female children but incase of aspects, if Jupiter aspects your 5H, higher chances of male children is present. This is an exception when it comes to 5H being putra sthan and possible gender of babies guessed based on the gender of the planet present there.🥳✨♥️

NOTE: I'll make another post for ppl who have empty 5H, on how to interpret 5H themes based on their 5H lord placement and aspects, this post is focused on having planets in 5H 🩷🫣

That's all for now sweeties, hope u liked it! 🩷🩵

Let's Learn and Grow Together 🥰

With Love-Yashi ❤️‍🔥🫣

Masterlist 💖

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evilvillain123456789 · 1 year ago

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Hello, it's me, your teenaged sisters new adult boyfriend. I hope you don't mind, but I spent the night here. And I got up in the middle of the night to eat food and saw you had barbacoa in there so I microwaved it loud as fuck. I microwaved it so hard that the grease in there popped so loud it sounded like gunshots and scared the fuck out of the cats to the point they peeled out and left scratchmarks all up on the hardwood, climbed up the curtains and knocked the bars down, smacked against the mounted flatscreen and knocked it down off the wall which scared them more to the point they both shit while running andthen did a U turn and stepped in it and got scared because of it and jumped up onto the table and knocked all the shit you got up there offf it. And when that was done I took the little tray of barbacoa out of the now dirty nasty grease splattered microwaved and took a bite but it was gristle so I gagged and picked at it w my fork and threw away all the pieces of it with gristle in them so your 12 dollar pound got reduced to about an 12 dollar ¼ of a pound serving. So yeah I had me a plate of it but it was bland so I used up all your fucking worchestershire sauce. I was standing at your open fridge with a steamy ass plate of meat in there and was all up on your fridges side drawer using up all your fucking worchestershire like a fuck ton like over half of what you had left and a little bit of A1 but it was old almost empty and crusty around the rim so I gagged into your fridge but didnt clean the rim up. Then put the empty crusty bottle back. Well by then the grease congealed back into tallow by then so it made me gag when I turned to look at it and threw it away. I want to go home. Do you mind moving your car? You parked behind me.

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catiuskaa · 11 months ago

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missed me, missed me, now you gotta...

SUMMARY: minho wasn’t grumpy, nor he was jealous. but he hasn’t been the same ever since he fell in love with you.

REQUESTED! by a sweet annonie right here. pookie, your idea was lovely to write! lil grumpy minho, im melting… it’s a bit short, but I hope you like it! <3

CW: use of (crack) text messages to convey the plot, starring: han quokka as cupid + reader’s bsf, clingy minho as king of my heart, and ngl, type 1 diabetes fluff ahead. keep insulin shots close just in case! lol

WC: 1.1k

A/N: i love how i’m slowly turning into a minho blog/page lmaoo, only minho: the man, the myth, the legend!

[🪻☆🌫️☆🪻]

The same ringtone buzzed again during rehearsals. Its ding had sounded so many times already that it had started to get repetitive really quickly.

Minho frowned as he looked in the mirror, retouching his rolled sleeves just once more for what he secretly knew it had been more than twenty times. In the span of ten minutes. Maybe even less.

But Minho wasn’t ‘grumpy’.

He so wasn’t.

His day had been normal so far. He had no reason to be grumpy. Not one what-so-ever.

He had woken up in between your arms, and even if he had ‘complained’ about it, he loved being the little spoon. And also, his cats jumped on the bed and, just for once, none of them landed on his face.

There had been just one thing.

…

Well. Technically more than one.

You had rushed outside this morning. You claimed you didn’t have time to have breakfast with him, because you were late for something he didn’t really get. Because of that, you hadn’t come over to the JYP building with him. He had to drive over alone. And you hadn’t pecked him goodbye at the entrance like always.

But he. Wasn’t. Grumpy.

Not. At. All.

> sunggie: girl, did you hide his cats or smth?

< minho’s owner: lol, wdym dude?

> sunggie: he looks like he’s going to kill me.

> sunggie: And he loves me! Wtf??

“Jisung-ah.”

Han shrieked in his place in the sofa, his phone almost falling off his hands. He quickly turned it off, hoping that the grumpy dancer hadn’t seen the old or new messages.

“Who were you texting?” Minho frowned, deeper this time.

“Oh.” Jisung chuckled. “Just checking in on noona.”

“My girlfriend?” The way Minho enunciated the title felt a bit possesive. Jisung eyed at him weirdly for a second. Even he felt weird himself.

Jisung nodded sheepishly, turning his phone back on but quickly opening a random app.

“Yeah. I owed her a call back.” He shrugged, nonchalantly accepting that he had opened Subway Surfers, and started to play.

As the catchy music came from Han’s phone, Minho shook his head.

Not grumpy.

Not at all.

But the thought that you had been texting Han and didn’t text him —instead of him— did funny things in his chest.

Now, keep in mind that Minho would never describe himself as a jealous man.

He trusted you with his cats, of course he trusted you regarding your relationship. But he had barely got a hold of you all day. And Han had. By call and text. Like he was doing now.

Not grumpy.

Sure.

< minho’s owner: you dead yet?

Jisung groaned.

> sunggie: no! you made me lose my score!

> sunggie: and I don’t have any keys! ㅠㅠ

< minho’s owner: sucks to suck, lol

< minho’s owner: but what’s wrong with my future husband? did you do something?

> sunggie: he’s moody since he came in this morning.

> sunggie: you weren’t here tho. smth wrong between ya?

< minho’s owner: no…? just had to run to work early…

And then, something in Jisung’s paboracha brain connected. Probably because of how he had named your contact in his phone.

> sunggie: omg

< minho’s owner: what?

> sunggie: that corny dumbass

> sunggie: he’s so stupid

< minho’s owner: bitch what is it???

> sunggie: he’s moody bc u didn’t come in with him today!

You hesitated. Could that be it?

< minho’s owner: really? u think so?

> sunggie: bitch I know so!

> sunggie: imma go get boba for the boys, get your ass here and come w/ me

Jisung’s brain started to work at cupid’s speed.

< minho’s owner: omw. be there in 5’

“Guys, I’m gonna go get boba. Do any of you want something?”

The rest of the gang blabbered something while some kept going over the steps of the choreography and the others rested on the couch, doozing off or on their phones. Han quickly noted down everyone’s orders, not before being squinted down by Minho. He held back a shiver.

“Clingy prick…” Jisung mumbled, leaving quickly.

He walked out of the JYP building, waiving and half bowing to the staff members and other artists in the building.

< minho’s owner: just parked! ^^

Jisung entered the boba place next to the building, smiling at the cashier as he read down the orders on his note app, and stood aside, waiting for the drinks.

“Hey!” You smiled widely at him, taking off your scarf, merely leaving it hanging on your shoulders. He clapped your hand, playfully slapping your back.

“Working hard?” Jisung snickered, pointing at the bag on your other hand.

You side-eyed at him, giggling softly.

“Took some snacks before heading off.” You shrugged. “We can sneak these in, right?”

Jisung scratched the back of his neck. “We’ll… come up with something.”

You both struggled carrying the drinks, teasing each other and betting who’d make a mess first. But all giggles came to an end when the security guard stared at you.

“Name and business?” He asked in a low huff.

Your body stiffened.

“She’s my sister,” Han chimed back. You were in fact far from being his sister, but that didn’t matter when the guard seemed to nod. “She’s just helping me carry the drinks inside.”

“And the bag? What’s inside?”

You cleared your throat, smiling. “Clothes for him to change once he finishes training.” You lied.

Thank God for his imagination. And for his stupid idea of shoving your scarf and his hoodie into the bag of snacks.

“Ok. You may come in.” The guard smiled politely.

Only after the both of you had gotten into the elevator you allowed yourselves to let out a sight full of relief. You two then smirked, high-fiving.

“Thank you, bro.” You teased in a snicker.

He cackled. “You’re welcome, sis.”

You both laughed and joked until you reached the training room.

“The person you dream of is back!” Han cackled.

“Noona!” Felix grinned happily.

“Yeah, that’s me!” You cackled at Jisung’s faked frown.

You smiled and greeted everyone as you entered, leaving a certain bunny boy for last.

You sat next to him on the couch, and without missing a beat, he took your legs and layed them on his lap.

You took a sip of his drink, and he stared at you, almost with a squint.

“You’ve made me jealous of fucking Han Jisung.” He stated matter-o-factly, making you practically choke on the tapioka pearls.

You coughed. “What?”

“You texted him all evening. And me? Not even a good luck kiss this morning.”

“Aw, are you grumpy, kitten?” You grinned teasingly, speaking only towards him in a soft tone to his ear. You pecked his cheek.

He needed more of those.

Grumpy, huh?

“Yes. Very.” He mumbled, hiding his blushed and pleased grin in the crook of your neck. “Need more kisses.”

“Well, you know how it goes.” You mumbled in a snicker. He hummed at you, waiting for you to explain.

You kissed his forehead softly, his hands stroking your thighs.

“Missed me, missed me, now you gotta kiss me.”

~Kats, who can write this in one sit, but can’t figure out how chemistry works (yes have exams, why did I choose this for myself, help)

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gasstationlady · 10 months ago

Text

the start of something beautiful | a lando norris social media au

pairing: lando norris x private!reader (fc: tyla)

lando is spotted with an unknown woman, and everyone thinks she’s another fling. however, later revealed as naomi campbell’s daughter, lando's fans slowly start to love her despite her tendency to be private.

notes: btw, i’m so sorry i’ve been mia for a while! honestly, i have a ton of drafts i’ve written over the time i didn’t post, but i lowkey hate all of them lmao. anyways, hope you enjoy this fluff :)

disclaimer: swearing. photos not mine. OLD PIC OF JAZ AND ROSS (yes it’s a warning bc i’m still mourning that relationship, and ik i’m not the only one). there are a few mistakes in the tweets that i was too lazy to fix lol. also, i hope the flow doesn’t feel too rushed!

masterlist

yourusername

liked by landonorris, yourbestie and 138 others

yourusername 🌸

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yourbestie 👀

↳ yourusername 🙈

yourbestie framing these pics brb 😍😍

f1gossip

2,993 likes

f1gossip We received these photos of Lando and a girl today! It looks like the same girl he has been spotted with for the past 3 months, but it’s still unclear who it is. ☕️

View all 202 comments

user three months of them being pictured AND YET NONE CLEARLY CAPTURE HER FACE. that’s some bs

↳ user no deadass bc you guys had one job 🙄

user lmaoooo i know the delulu fans are crying that she’s still here

user Are we sure it's the same girl? Lmfao even if it is, he's probably going to get tired of her soon!

user god i hope people learn and treat her better than how they treated luisinha

landonorris

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 759,301 others

landonorris First time trying wakeboarding 🤙

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user happy lando >>>

user Where’s your girlfriend

user not the red bull life vest lmfaoo

user lando rlly said here’s some shirtless pics to distract u

↳ user frrr but like it’s not working 😭

f1gossip

12,321 likes

f1gossip Naomi Campbell and daughter, Y/N Campbell, making an appearance at today’s GP! It's presumed that Y/N is dating Mclaren driver, Lando Norris. Our sources in the paddock mentions that the two visited the Mercedes, Ferrari, and Mclaren garages before the race. 👀

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user i'm literally in love w her she's soo beautiful 😍

user this actually makes sense that they knew each other since naomi has been connected to f1 for a while now

user I would be unstoppable if I looked like her.

user she looks so kind 🥺🥺

user oh the things i would do to reincarnate as a wealthy person’s child

user i was there and got to meet her and i’d just like to say that i’d go to war for her

landoupdates

7,626 likes

landoupdates Max, Lando, and Y/N (seen in second photo, far right) with fans at an after party! We received these pictures a few minutes ago, and the fan included “Y/N mostly stood behind as Max and Lando were asked for photos but she was so so kind !! Although you can tell she likes to keep to herself, she told me she thought my dress was cute and even got Lando’s attention for me so I could ask for a picture 😭 Also, he kept holding her hand !!!”

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user her face card is insane.

user now that we know she's naomi's daughter, i can't believe we didn't see it before LOL

user “he kept holding her hand” 😭😭😭😭😭

user I have never wanted someone to go off private so bad 😩

user honestly she’s my new fav wag

user it’s the way everyone loves her rn lmaoooo

user LANDO CAN YOU FIGHT

f1gossip

11,234 likes

f1gossip Lando, Ginge, and Ethan possibly alluding to Lando’s new relationship with Y/N in the recent Quadrant video 👀👀

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user not them clowning him 😭

user i mean we all know by now that they’re together but this was the cherry on top

user melting over how he couldn’t stop smiling 🥹

user the fact that he kept this clip in 😩😩

user I AM ONCE AGAIN ASKING “LANDO CAN YOU FIGHT”

user I get it 😭 I also wouldn’t be able to hide that I’m dating Y/N

user perfect example of private but not a secret, in love with them 🥹🥹

landoupdates

5,389 likes

landoupdates A few photos of Lando and Y/N at the paddock today ☺️

See all 195 comments

user literally my fav couple

user when is he gonna make it officially on insta

↳ user My thoughts exactly!! 😭😭 I know not everything has to be posted, but I’m just excited to see him officially announce it.

user my girl y/n looked so fucking good today

user i just want him to post her solely because i want more y/n pics

↳ user LOL you’re so real for that

landonorris

liked by yourusername, angryginge13, georgerussell63 and 1,221,334 others

landonorris We so good ❤️

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user THE HAND PLACEMENT

user not tagging her is criminal 😭😭

↳ user girl what’s the point when she’s on private

user When will it be my turn 😩

user LANDO??? OMFG

user TURN IT UP IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE 😁😁😁🔊🔊

user omggg i can’t, they’re goals

user Y/N IS SO CUTE

user i luv my parents

#f1 instagram au #f1 social media au #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris instagram au #f1 smau #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #lando norris au #formula 1 x reader

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luveline · 11 months ago

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I love love LOVE the writing you've done for Spencer Reid!!! I'm practically living off of it at this point. I was thinking since we All love Spencer wearing glasses, what if the roles were reversed and HE was the one getting flustered after seeing reader in glasses for the first time?

thank u!!

“Where is she?”

Spencer doesn’t have to look to guess what ‘she’ Morgan is wondering after. “She texted. She woke up late.”

“Late? Is that BAU approved?” Morgan asks.

“I think her phone is broken.”

Emily shakes a hair tie down her hand. Morgan holds her compact mirror open for her. “She’s not the only one running late. I swear the night gets shorter every time I fall sleep.” She wrinkles her nose, collecting her hair into one hand behind her head, wrapping her tie around in an impressive, painful looking ponytail. Morgan passes her a comb. She neatens up her bangs.

Spencer’s head finally lifts at the sound of your hasty entrance and following apologies, “I’m sorry, shit, oh, sorry. I’m really sorry, Anderson, I’ll make it up to you,” you say, hidden behind Anderson’s tall stature.

“That’s okay, L/N. Hey, what’s with the glasses?”

Spencer squints, willing Anderson to move out of the way. “It’s a long story,” you say, shuffling past Anderson to hurry to the front of the bullpen. Spencer locks onto your face,. His hands fall into his lap.

You’re wearing clear-rimmed glasses with metal legs that slip down your nose the closer you get, your makeup lighter than usual, and your clothes a repeat of what you wore yesterday, though he’s probably the only person who’d notice. He barely gives your rumpled blouse a second glance, too distracted by your hand, your fingers as you push the glasses up the bridge of your nose. “Is Hotch in yet?” you ask hopefully.

“He’s been here since five,” Morgan tells you, double-taking when he spots your new accessory. “Oh my god, you’re adorable.”

You raise a hand between you both to hide your face from his view.

Spencer gets out of his chair. “I was really hoping he’d be late too,” you say, turning to Spencer with a gentle pout. “It’s like wishing to win the lottery, I guess.”

Holy shit. He’s breaking a sweat. There’s heat gathering at the base of his neck, worse when you push the glasses up again, your eyes shiny and wide-pupiled behind them. “You’re wearing glasses,” Spencer says.

“Oh, I know, I kept that secret, huh? My left contact got all dried up and I figured I didn’t have time to mess around, so you’re forced to suffer me like this.” You put your hand bashfully under your chin, a cherub posing. “I look like an old lady.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do, I look aged.” You put your bag on the floor by his chair and brush your hands down your clothes. “Spencer, it’s hopeless. I look like I slept in it. Maybe my glasses are atrocious enough to distract everyone.”

“They’re not atrocious, you look beautiful.”

He immediately breaks eye contact to stare at your shoulder. Why did I say that? he thinks. Why do I talk so much? Heat fills his cheeks in a matter of seconds, but he holds his breath rather than let it out, totally frozen.

Emily’s laughing as you step forward, hand out to touch his arm. You tilt your head to one side and Jesus, he wasn’t lying, you make his heart stop just looking at you. “You think so?” you ask softly.

You aren’t laughing. Spencer nods, a tight up and down.

Your lips press together in a shy smile.

“They’re both as bad as each other!” Emily whisper-shouts.

“What’s the matter, Reid, cat got your tongue?” Morgan asks.

You push your glasses up your nose again, still smiling to yourself, so Spencer doesn’t mind his humiliation. You don’t call yourself atrocious again. If anything, you glow.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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cheolism-archive · 9 months ago

Text

BREAK AND RETURN

✰ — brother's-bandmate!minghao x f!reader ✷ — summary: last week minghao did what he thought was best and put an end to your fling. he sees you again before band practice and can't help but give in to his desires. ✰ — wc is approx. 5k ✷ — genre: 90s au, smut, fwb/fucking your brother's friend ✰ — warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it! yk it!), pet names (good girl, angel, etc), jealousy, possessiveness, and lust. backshots, off-screen masturbation, fingering and pussy-licking. lmk if anything else should be added :) ✷ — rating: 18+ ✰ — note: this is a part of @beomcoups's "now that's 90's" svt collab! thank u very much for letting me join the collab! i had fun chatting n interacting with new people ^-^ i hope everyone enjoys the fic!! thank you very much to @wooahaeproductions for reading this over and reassuring me <3 tagging @idyllic-ghost and @onlyhuis bc i think you both wanted tagged but i can't remember, so sorry!!!

here’s the thing: minghao isn’t stupid.

he knows better. he truly does. he isn’t some idiot stuck at a claw machine at an arcade, doesn’t keep feeding it his money while never getting any closer to winning a prize. minghao knows when to quit something, when to step away.

that’s why he broke things off with you, after all. he had thought it would be easy. the two of you weren’t in a real relationship. you weren’t like tom cruise and nichole kidman – the two of you were just fucking. no strings attached.

but of course there were strings attached. you’re the kid sister to his friend and bandmate, josh; at first minghao thought he would be fine keeping it a secret. he didn’t need to take you out on dates and show you off like you were the best thing since bon jovi. the two of you were content in each other’s arms, naked chest against naked chest, legs intertwined as you dozed off.

minghao, however, wasn’t stupid.

he knew there were strings attached to the both of you. he knew that it was a bad idea, fucking his bandmate’s little sister. every time he kissed your warm mouth, he knew he was betraying josh’s trust. it wasn’t fair of him to to that to josh, and it wasn’t fair of him to put you, josh’s sister, in a position to lie to your own brother.

so minghao took initiative and broke off the relationship.

he wasn’t stupid, and he knew the first time he would see you after breaking up with you would be hard. he knew it would be. it’s hard for real couples, for couples that hold hands as they walk down the street and talk about what to name the cat they’re going to adopt. he had imagined it would be hard, to some degree, to see you. the two of you might have steered away from such topics as rings and shared apartments and other things that left the fantasy of forever in your minds, but he knew you. he knew how you sighed after he kissed the space under your ear, he knew how you looked fresh from the shower with your face shining from the heat of the water. he knew how you looked when you concentrated on painting your toes, how you looked when you begged him to see clueless at the theater because josh thought it would be stupid and you didn’t know who else to ask.

he knew you, and perhaps that was worse than dating you.

he knew you, and you knew him, and minghao isn’t stupid but he didn’t know that seeing you again would hurt so much.

you look beautiful. you always do, according to minghao. you’re sitting on that old couch josh and him spent an hour trying to shove into the garage for their band practices. you’re wearing ridiculous clothes, baggy comfy pants and the ugly oversized sweater with the worn collar and checkers and stripes on it. you’re talking to soonyoung, hands waving excitedly as the two of you laugh. your beauty bubbles out with every breath of laughter, seems to radiate in your chest like a little star, and minghao knows that even if winona ryder was in the room with them he would still choose you as the most beautiful.

you catch sight of minghao. you shoot him a grin, large and inviting, as if he hadn’t made you cry last week. you give him a little wave. “hi, minghao!”

and then you turn back to soonyoung, your knee pressed against his.

it’s so ridiculous; he’s ridiculous. minghao feels his stomach twist, as if someone was wringing it like a wash cloth after doing dirty dishes. you’re beautiful and radiant, and you spoke two words to minghao before turning to soonyoung, as if minghao wasn’t anyone particularly special.

he can’t help but stare at you. you lift a hand, and, in a move he recognizes as you flirting because you’ve done it to him when you want him to fuck you, you tuck your hair back behind your ear. you are wearing small pearl stud earrings and immediately minghao recognizes them as the ones he bought for you a year and a half ago, right before the two of you started fucking.

you tuck your hair back behind your ear and soonyoung watches, his mouth parted a little, and minghao feels like he needs to punch something.

“funny, isn’t it?” josh says, appearing at minghao’s side. josh runs his tongue over his lip ring, pulling at the sleeves of his plaid jacket. “it looks like soonyoung’s got a crush on my kid sister.”

“yeah,” minghao says, throat tight. he watches as soonyoung edges slightly closer, his thigh now pressed firmly against yours. you don’t move away. minghao wants you to move away, or better yet, slap soonyoung.

minghao isn’t a violent person, either. he isn’t violent, nor is he jealous. but once he also had thought he was above the lure of lust, was above giving into the craving of needing your body against his, dick stuffed in your pussy and his mouth dominating yours.

maybe you just had some sort of power over him that no one else did. maybe it’s like that movie practical magic, and you’ve placed a spell on him, bewitching him.

“i think he’s going to ask her out soon,” josh carries on, as if he’s ignorant to the way minghao is one step from having a crisis. “i saw the drive-in is going to be playing jurassic park. i remember when it first came out and how much she loved seeing it at the theater. it’ll be a good chance for soonyoung to ask her on a date.”

minghao scoffs. “you know he’s scared of that movie. whenever we bring out the vhs he runs.”

josh shrugs. “if he likes her as much as i think he does, i think soonyoung will be fine.”

“and you’re okay with it?” minghao turns to josh, putting his back to you and soonyoung. “you’re totally okay with soonyoung dating your sister?”

josh shrugged, twisting his mouth a little in thought. “well. i think – i think he really likes her, you know? he’s not just gonna fuck her and leave her hanging around until he wants her again.”

minghao’s mouth sours, and he bites back a venomous remark. that’s what his relationship with you was like, wasn’t it? he has no place to try and insert himself between you and soonyoung’s blossoming relationship.

“you know how soonyoung is, though,” minghao says, despite himself. he folds his arms in front of him, drumming his fingers against his bare skin. he sees the little flower tattoo on his ring finger, the one he got after you spent an evening at his apartment drawing flowers into your lisa frank notebook with glitter pens. “he’s flighty. he’s never stayed with a chick longer than a month. what if he breaks her heart?”

josh hums. “i can’t keep her locked away in the house forever, hao. she’s grown. she can make her own decisions. and if that is soonyoung, the same soonyoung who refuses to drive without everyone wearing seatbelts and insists on someone holding his hand as he gets a tattoo, then i’m fine with that.”

minghao huffs. he walks away from josh, knowing that josh is right. you are grown and can make your own decisions. for a year and a half, that was minghao. you chose to go to his apartment, chose to get on your knees and offer your mouth. you chose to lay by his side, fingers gently tracing the vine tattoo that climbed up his left arm as minghao murmured about the future. for a year and a half you chose minghao, until he took that choice away from you.

and now you were sitting at soonyoung’s side on an old, musty couch, laughing at some stupid joke.

minghao grabbed his bass off of its stand, bringing the strap up around his neck. his fingers find the strings naturally, absentmindedly plucking out the beginning of u2’s “one”. on the body of his bass, down towards the bridge, is a strawberry shortcake sticker that you had gingerly pressed onto his instrument.

josh joins minghao, calling back to soonyoung. jihoon and vernon come through the door leading to the kitchen, each of them holding a jolt cola.

“finally,” minghao sighs, glaring at the two other men. “come on. practice started ten minutes ago.”

soonyoung stands from the couch, still talking to you. you’re looking up at him with a smile, eyes sparkling.

“kwon soonyoung!” minghao snaps. he stops playing the bass, narrowing his eyes at soonyoung. “come on! just because you have all day doesn’t mean the rest of us do. why don’t you fucking respect the rest of us and stop flirting and get the fuck over here.”

josh sucks in a breath next to minghao but doesn’t say anything. soonyoung gives you a small wave, and then he’s jogging over. he glances at minghao, murmuring a small apology.

minghao doesn’t care. he’s watching you. you lean forward, elbows on your knees, tilting your head and eyes on minghao. your sweater – that overly large, horrible sweater – is loose at the collar, and as you lean forward the hole widens and gapes and falls, giving minghao a view of the valley between your tits and the top of your black silk bra, and all that skin above it.

and he remembers. minghao remembers what it was like to press his mouth to your skin, to hold your tits in his hands and feel their weight and warmth. he remembers being between your warm thighs, remembers how soft your body was and how he always seemed to sink into it.

you stand. “well, i’ll leave you guys alone so you can practice.”

minghao watches as you leave, the hem of your sweater covering your ass. he remembers you walking from his bed wearing an overly large nirvana shirt, how the hem tapped against your ass as you walked away and to the kitchen.

and here’s the thing: minghao isn’t stupid.

he broke things off with you. he isn’t with you anymore, doesn’t have the privilege of getting horny and jealous of you. he doesn’t get to act on his frustrations when he sees you taunting him, when he sees you getting your petty revenge for breaking up with you. you’re stirring something up with soonyoung, and he doesn’t get to veto that, doesn’t get to act as if he has any say in your life.

after all, he’s the one that made sure he wouldn’t. he’s the one that made sure to draw the line between the two of you.

practice starts, and minghao is somewhere else entirely. he gets the order of the songs mixed up, starts playing basket case before live forever. he loses all of his picks and has to borrow from vernon, and his mind keeps slipping back to you.

an hour passes like that, with minghao not really there. he’s between your thighs, face pressed against your pussy; he’s in your arms, heels digging into his back as you urge him to go deeper. he’s everywhere but there, everywhere with you.

eventually minghao loses another pick, and josh sighs from the front. he goes over to the speaker and dials it off, frowning at everyone. “i’m thinking we should take a break. we’re not doing our best, and everyone seems really scattered right now. let’s break for supper and come back and really put work in.”

the others nod, turning off their instruments or, in jihoon’s case, setting down his drumsticks. “we need to get focused,” jihoon agrees, serious. “we’re not going to keep maintaining gigs if we’re fucking around like this. we need to be serious about what we’re doing. we need to be bringing our everything to every practice. none of this bullshit.”

josh nods, setting his guitar back in its case. his case, just like minghao’s, is decorated with stickers you’ve slapped on. besides strawberry shortcake there’s lisa frank, rugrats, pokemon. there’s squiggly lines and smiley faces and flowers, all the signs pointing to you.

“honestly,” joshua says, voice grave, “if, by some fucking miracle, the black rose calls back and says they want us to perform for them, i’ll have to turn them down.”

soonyoung protests, brow furrowed. “come on! this is just one practice we’ve fucked up. it’s not like we’re always fucking around. let’s just take a break, clear our heads, and come back at it. this isn’t something that needs to be repeated or stressed over.”

“i’m thinking about a triple decker pizza,” vernon says, prompted by no one. josh rolls his eyes, grinning, and the band begins to split into groups for food.

“where you wanna go?” soonyoung asks minghao. he’s blinking innocently at minghao, completely ignorant of the absolute sin going through his mind. he doesn’t know that minghao thought about punching him only an hour ago, doesn’t know he’s been fantasizing about the way your thighs felt under his fingertips while fumbling his fingers over the bass strings.

“i think i’ll just run home and grab something,” minghao lies, setting his guitar on its stand. soonyoung pouts, nodding.

minghao lingers behind the others, lying to josh about misplacing his keys and promising to lock the house behind him. you were doing your homework, josh said, and he didn’t want you to be disturbed.

minghao waits until soonyoung, whom always seems to be the last one to leave, pulls out of the driveway with vernon jamming out in the passenger seat beside him, and then he’s moving.

he knows the way up to your bedroom as if it was his own. he goes up the carpeted stairs, past the various pictures of you in flouncy dresses and huge bows as babies, past the awkward family photo with you and josh pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, wearing matching sweater vests. he flips on the mickey mouse lightswitch at the top of the staircase, and then he’s opening your bedroom door.

your room is your sanctuary. the bedroom walls are painted a soft lilac from your childhood, covered in posters from spice girls to nirvana and aerosmith. there’s beanie babies hanging over your mirror, a troll doll on your dresser. your room is littered with comics and cd cases, all of your cds stacked in small piles around the stereo. you’ve got backstreet boys playing from your stereo, and minghao doesn’t even have it in him to make a comment about it.

meanwhile, you –

you are on your bed. you’re still wearing that sweater, but that’s all. your blankets are on the floor, pillow stuffed underneath your hips. your entire lower half is bare, one leg extended out and the other bent. the room has the faint, barely-there smell of cunt, and it’s more intoxicating than any drug.

you meet minghao’s eyes sheepishly, hands smoothing down your thighs. “missed you,” is all you say, fingers slowly dragging across your thighs and towards your center.

minghao is across the room in record time, pulling off his bomber jacket and throwing it to the ground. “we don’t have a lot of time,” he says, hands pulling up the hem of his shirt to zip down his pants. “the others just went to eat.”

“then you better hurry,” you say, eyes sparkling. you don’t make any comments about him stumbling back into your bed after breaking everything off. instead you spread out your legs, your hands making quick work of your sweater and bra, and minghao falls onto your bed.

“i’ve prepared,” you say as he settles between your thighs. he can’t help but run his hands over your skin, treasuring the feel of your skin beneath his. this was his favorite place on earth, he realizes; between your thighs, skin to skin.

“you’ve prepared?” he echos, raising a brow. you nod, biting down on your lip. “been waiting for me, is that it?”

“you or soonyoung,” you say, grinning at him.

minghao scowls at you, pinching your skin between his fingertips. “shut up,” he commands you. “don’t wanna hear you say his name ever again.”

you laugh at him, reaching out. you lace your fingers around his neck, bringing his face down to yours. you press a quick, close-lipped kiss to his mouth. “sorry,” you say, voice still light and giggly. “couldn’t help it.”

minghao growls, and then he’s lacing his hands in your hair and smashing his mouth back to yours. he pries open your mouth with his tongue, delving in and reclaiming that familiar space. he can’t believe he’s gone over a week without kissing you – it’s a sin, he’s sure, to not kiss you and have you whimpering underneath his touch. it’s a greater sin to not kiss you than it is to be kissing his friend’s little sister, surely.

he sucks at your bottom lip, moving his hands down your thighs. they’re sticky on the inside, no doubt from when you prepared yourself earlier. when he moves his hand deeper between your thighs it’s wetter, warmer, stickier, and he thinks that this is a heaven of it’s own. you sigh against his mouth, and then he’s ducking his head and moving his body, mouth slipping from yours and skimming down over your chin and along your throat.

you whine, and he can’t help but chuckle against your skin. he suckles at your throat. you open beneath him so wonderfully, it’s a wonder he was ever able to separate from you at all.

minghao moves down your body, kissing each and every spot he missed. the top of the valley between your tits, the skin of your shoulder. he mouths at your nipples, slipping his hand up between your legs so his fingers brush at your pussy lips.

you shiver beneath him. he laps at one of your nipples with his tongue, fingers dipping and sliding your cunt. he doesn’t apply any real pressure, just content with teasing you and hearing those whines and moans he missed.

“hao,” you groan out, fingers moving to his hair. you tangle your fingers in his locks, pulling softly. “hao –”

he shushes you, and then his fingers are slipping into your cunt. you moan out, head tipping back. he slips two into your hole, biting down at his lip as your pussy contracts around him, trying to suck his fingers in further, desperate for his touch.

your cunt is hot around his fingers. it’s not as tight as it would have been if you hadn’t prepared, and it’s easy for him to slide his two fingers down to the base, brushing his fingertips against your core.

“fuck,” he sighs, pressing his face against your stomach. he breathes in, inhaling your scent. you’re so wonderful. you smell wonderful, feel wonderful. he wants to devour you; he can’t imagine why he ever left you.

he slides his fingers from your cunt, drawing a high whine from your lips. minghao clicks his tongue at you, and then he’s pushing three fingers in. you shudder, cunt clenching so tight around his digits that he can’t move.

“easy, baby,” he mumbles, his free hand going to your leg. minghao pulls your leg over his shoulder, nose pressing against your thigh. he can feel your skin against his eyelash as his breathes you in here, too. “gotta be easy and good for me.”

you let out a long breath, eyes sliding shut. your cunt loosens around his fingers, and as a reward minghao moves down further between your legs. he presses his face to your cunt, the smell of your pussy surrounding him.

he knows he should hurry. he knows his band will be back soon. but that doesn’t stop minghao from running his tongue along your clit, doesn’t stop him from tasting this part of you. he missed it so much – missed your cunt, how it smelled and felt and tasted.

your thighs clench around his head, but he continues. minghao scissors his fingers in you, not focused on stretching you but instead making you feel good. he laps at your lit in broad strokes, and then he’s sucking at your little bean, a loud squeal escaping your lips.

“quiet!” he hisses, though he feels his lips twitching up at the corner. he does it again and again between licks of his tongue, feeling your body shake beneath his and little sounds of ecstasy escape your lips.

“hao!” you whine out, fingers digging slightly into his scalp. “gotta – gotta hurry, josh –”

you couldn’t manage a full sentence, high moans and squeals escaping your mouth and interrupting your words. but minghao understood all the same, and he was pressing one last kiss to your pussy before he withdrew.

he wiped his hand off on the sheets, and then he was pushing his pants and boxers down to his knees. he fisted his shirt with one hand, raising it and keep it away from your soaking cunt as he moved close.

you plant your feet on the bed, tilting your hips up for him. you’re so good, he thinks. you’re perfect. and you’re his.

minghao pressed the head of his cock against your cunt, watching as your entire body seemed to freeze in anticipation. you were so ready for him, so eager. you were biting down at your lip, eyes large and watching, and minghao couldn’t even pretend he wasn’t feeling the same way.

he crowded down over you, releasing his shirt and moving his hand to cup your face. minghao rolled his tongue into your mouth, the noises of your wet mouths meeting making his cock throb with anger.

he fucked into your cunt, a deep groan escaping you. your pussy was tight, despite preparation, but warm and wet and minghao slowly slid deeper and deeper. your body took his cock easily, as it always had, and he knew that the two of you were meant for each other.

“hao,” you moan out, lashes fluttering. you speak against his mouth, breath hot. “feels good, hao. want it. missed you so much, hao.”

“i know, baby,” he mumbles, hand sinking into your hair. he slides until his cock is buried as far as it can go within you, your pussy clamping down on his cock. he wanted to move, wanted to immediately begin fucking you. instead he held back, hand twisting in your hair. “i missed you too.”

you bite at your lip, and then you’re tightening your legs around his waist. minghao takes this as permission, and he begins drawing his hips back. the slide of his dick against your walls feels so good, feels perfect, all slick warmth that makes his toes curl and eyes flutter.

he can’t believe he left you. he can’t believe he ended this. he’s so fucking stupid –

minghao fucks back into your cunt, and it feels like coming home. he begins setting a slow, deep rhythm that makes you arch up around him, mouth wide and eyes pinched shut. he just looks at you, takes in the shape of your mouth and your lashes, just looks and adores you.

his hand moves from your hair to your ear, and he traces the shell of your ear as he grinds into you. he follows the curve, adoring. he thumbs at your earlobe, just touching you, when he touches that pearl earring.

and minghao thinks back. he thinks back to how you had tucked your hair behind your ear for soonyoung, how you had acted all cute and coy for him. how you had taunted minghao.

his hips slow to a stop, and you whine for him. for a moment he just focuses on your earrings, staring.

“you’re such a bad girl,” he growls out, and then he’s slamming back into your pussy, the sound of skin hitting skin loud. you cry out, startled, and then he’s setting a punishing, brutal pace.

“you’re so bad,” he hisses, hand moving down to your throat. he doesn’t choke you, just places his hand against your throat. “teasing me like that with soonyoung. so fucking bad. wanted me to get jealous, didn’t you?”

you whimper, eyes rolling back as he fucks you. each thrust into your cunt is wet and loud, and he fucks you knowing that you’ll feel the ache hours later.

“wanted me jealous of kwon soonyoung,” minghao murmurs, and he’s ducking his head to bite at your neck. you cry out, cunt tightening around his dick. he bites and licks and sucks, marking your neck as his.

because you are his. he was a fool to think otherwise. you’re his and he’s yours, and he’ll show kwon soonyoung.

minghao pulls out – you whine – and he flips you around. minghao moves to his knees, pulling you up and back so you’re on all fours. he enters you with a rough thrust, and then he’s resuming his hard pace, chasing out each sting of skin slapping skin, seeking that pain-pleasure.

“you’re mine,” he says, hands tight around your hips. he watches your ass jiggle with each thrust, some animalistic urge to take coming over him. “you’re mine, angel. fucking mine and no one else’s. got it?”

you nod against your pillows, arching your back and pushing back to him. you fuck back onto him, meeting each thrust, and minghao can’t help but feel satisfied.

as if you’d ever do this for kwon soonyoung. as if you’d ever let him fuck you like this, as if you’d ever give yourself over to kwon soonyoung as eagerly as you do minghao.

“you gotta cum,” minghao commands, slapping at your ass. you cry out, fingers twisting in the sheets. “gotta cum around my cock, baby. milk me.”

he reaches down, grabbing his shirt and pushing it up out of the way. his fingers slip into your cunt, fluttering around where the two of you are connected to grind down on the gummy area surrounding your clit. you whine, and only a couple of thrusts later you’re tightening around his dick.

“that’s it,” minghao says, biting down on his lip. “gush around my dick, angel. come on, cum for me.”

your moans rise in pitch as you cum, and he fucks you through it. he fucks into your pussy as it quivers, fluttering around his dick. once you’re finished, whining from oversensitivity, minghao pulls out of your pussy – your warm, tight, delightful pussy – and fucks into his hand until he’s shooting out warm stripes of cum, painting your back white. he feels fuckin amazing, adrenaline and lust and something he can’t quite name rushing through his veins.

he pants, watching as his cum taints your skin. you’re so beautiful like this, stained with him. he says as much, rubbing his hand over your ass and back.

a car honks from the street. minghao curses, and then he’s flinging himself off of the bed. he grabs his bomber jacket, hesitates, and then quickly wipes himself down.

“i’ll wash it,” you promise, and he ducks down to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your mouth.

“good girl,” he murmurs, moving to press a kiss to your temple. “such a good girl for me.”

he darts for the bathroom after leaving your bedroom, flicking on the goofy lightswitch. he looks in the mirror. he looks – well, he looks like he just spent the last half hour fucking someone.

but not just anyone, he thinks, grabbing his shirt and flapping it to try and get some fresh air against his skin. he spent the last half hour fucking you.

vernon looks at him weirdly as he hands minghao a few slices of pizza. “been busy?”

minghao shrugs, pressing his hair back from his face. “went jogging a bit to try and clear my mind of all it’s shit. need to bring everything to practice.”

vernon looks like he doesn’t believe minghao, but vernon, also, doesn’t care. so minghao watches as his friend grabs a soda from the fridge. “cool,” is all he says, and then vernon begins slurping at his drink.

soonyoung enters the room with his own pizza, setting it on the counter. “i made sure to get some you like,” he says to minghao.

minghao feels, slightly, like he should feel guilty towards soonyoung. soonyoung, after all, has a crush on you. and minghao just fucked soonyoung’s crush.

then again, minghao thinks, it’s soonyoung’s fault for getting a crush on you when you spend every other day getting your brains fucked out by minghao.

joshua enters his house with a large grin, holding a plastic cup in one hand. “you’ll never fucking guess who called.”

“president clinton,” soonyoung says, raising a slice of pepperoni pizza to his mouth. “wait. better yet. monica lewinsky.”

“no,” josh says, “cut it out. i’m talking about the fucking black rose club! they called! and they want us for next thursday!”

“well,” minghao says, a grin taking over his face. “it isn’t a friday or saturday performance, so the club won’t be too busy.”

“but it gets our name out there,” josh agreed, clapping vernon on the back. he looks so sincerely happy, lip ring glinting in the artificial light of the kitchen. “we’re getting on the map.”

minghao raises vernon’s soda in salute towards josh before drinking it and handing it back to vernon. “things are looking up,” minghao says.

minghao isn’t stupid. he knows they’ll need to work their asses off for the next week in preparation of playing at the club. he knows this is only one step on the mountain of success, only one step towards their goal line. he knows he’ll need to talk to you, sincerely. he knows he’ll need to apologize, knows he needs to explain everything.

yes; minghao isn’t stupid.

but, he thinks, watching as you come down the stairs, fresh from a shower, he is awfully lucky.

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